“You aren’t going to call Lucie?” Josie demanded, sipping coffee from the disposable cup as they headed toward the subway station the following morning. “You’re going to make her call you?”
Aren knew Josie couldn’t possibly understand the dilemma he was in; well, then again, maybe she did. He had his pride, which was something his sister should understand. After all, it was pride that kept her from contacting Jack, even though Aren strongly suspected his sister was still in love with her former fiancé. She had been stingy with information as to what exactly had gone wrong. Although he was fairly certain it had something to do with the wedding, a disagreement, probably something silly, that had quickly escalated. Apparently it had grown to the point that they were convinced, one or the other, that marriage wasn’t such a good idea after all. Following that, it made sense to assume they decided continuing their relationship wouldn’t work either. Nerves stretched to the limit over a wedding and now Josie was alone and unhappy. Well, Aren and his sister made a great team, supporting each other in their misery.
His own relationship with Lucie was complicated and getting more so by the minute. It’d all seemed so perfect, innocent even, back on New Year’s Eve. Now, with him working for the Gazette and Lucie part owner of the restaurant he’d reviewed, the possibility of him developing this relationship became that much more difficult.
“She’ll be a fool if she doesn’t contact you.”
Aren and his sister had always been close. Every morning they walked to the subway together. He’d found an apartment close to Josie’s and they met for coffee, carrying it with them as they headed toward their respective jobs.
“Maybe she wouldn’t be such a fool.” Aren had spent a sleepless night mulling over the impossibility of his situation. For one thing, he’d had a complete change of heart when it came to Heavenly Delights. Three hundred patrons hadn’t been wrong. Dinner was a delight and the desserts afterward had been heavenly. His opinion had made a complete turnaround from his previous visit. This time it had earned its name. He’d told the managing editor he intended to write another review, and he would. Furthermore, his change of heart had nothing to do with his feelings toward the chef.
“By the way, is there any chance you can get tickets for Angels at Christmas?” Josie asked.
Naturally his sister would ask about the hottest musical on Broadway. Tickets had been sold out months in advance. And with Christmas approaching they were impossible to find. “Yeah, right.”
“Well, you just might. The newspaper has connections, doesn’t it? It’s just a matter of knowing the right people.”
Aren snickered. As a recent hiree, he had little chance of getting tickets. He’d let Josie dream away. Aren enjoyed his sister’s company, but if he took anyone to see a musical it would be Lucie; that is, if she wanted to see him again.
Following his divorce Aren hadn’t leaped back into the dating world and noticed that Josie hadn’t either, although she was quick to egg him on. Deep down Aren supposed his sister needed to see him willing to risk his heart again before she felt comfortable doing so herself. Brother and sister made a terrific dysfunctional team.
“Let me know what you find out,” Josie murmured as she headed down to her train. “And if you do manage to get those tickets, ask Lucie.”
Aren frowned. “I thought you wanted to go?”
“I will someday. I was just thinking it was an invitation Lucie wouldn’t be able to turn down. I’ve heard that Angels at Christmas is an incredible musical.”
“Don’t hold your breath, okay?” He hated giving his thoughts away, and Lucie had definitely been heavy on his mind.
She gave him a cheery wave and was off.
Aren went to another track to catch his train and then walked the few blocks to the newspaper building. He dropped his backpack off at his desk and headed directly to Sandy’s office.
The managing editor sat at her computer and glanced up when he knocked against the door frame. Looking at him above the glasses perched on the end of her nose, Sandy lifted her hands from the keyboard and swiveled her chair around. “You had dinner at Heavenly Delights?”
He nodded, stuffing the tips of his fingers in his jean pockets.
“And?”
“It was terrific.”
She arched her brows as though pleasantly surprised. “So you had a change of heart.”
He admitted as much. “I can’t account for what happened the first time around. My sister was with me and her meal seemed to be just fine. Mine was a disaster.”
“But not this time?”
“No, the sole was fabulous in every way.” And in ways he hadn’t expected that had nothing to do with the menu items.
“Good. Write your piece and we’ll publish it in this evening’s edition. That should make those supporters of the restaurant happy.” As she spoke, his editor turned back to face her computer screen.
“Sandy,” Aren said, remaining standing in the doorway to her office.
She looked his way, frowning with impatience. “Now what?”
“I can’t write the review.”
“Why not?” she demanded shortly, clearly irritated with him.
“I met the chef and I know her.”
“Did that influence your opinion?”
“No.”
“Then write the review.”
“I’d like nothing better. However …”
She removed her glasses and glared up at him. “What’s your problem, Fairchild?”
“I want to date the chef,” he blurted out.
Sandy frowned and turned back to her computer again. “So date her. She doesn’t need to know you’re Eaton Well.”
Aren was stunned. Not knowing what to expect from his admission, his mind started to spin with happy anticipation.
“Are you still here?” Sandy blurted out.
“Thanks, Sandy, really, I mean it. This is great news.” Aren’s heart was lighter than it’d been in months.
On his way in to talk to Sandy, he’d wondered what she’d say about him wanting to date Lucie. Now it felt as if the weight of ten dump trucks had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sandy glanced his way again. “Why are you still here?”
“No … no reason … I’m on my way to my desk to write the finest restaurant review you’ve ever published.”
“Then get to it,” she muttered gruffly.
No sooner had he sat down at his computer than his cellphone buzzed. Distracted, Aren looked at it, didn’t recognize the number, and let whoever was on the other end of the line talk to his voice mail. He was about halfway through his review, which literally seemed to be writing itself, when Norm Lockett stopped by his cubicle. Norm did the reviews for Broadway shows.
“Norm,” Aren called out, stopping him. “Can I ask a favor?”
“What do you need, kid?”
Aren stood. Norm was thirty years his senior and well liked by everyone. “Is there a possibility of getting tickets for Angels at Christmas?” It wouldn’t do any harm to ask.
Norm grinned and slapped him across the back. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Norm, I appreciate it.” Then, because he thought it might help, Aren added, “I don’t suppose you heard Doris Roberts is coming in to replace the lead in Angels at Christmas?”
“I did.”
The story had hit a few days earlier. Betty White had come down with a nasty cold and needed a break.
“I could write a short piece about Doris taking over the role,” Aren offered.
“No need,” Norm said and slapped him across the back a second time. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”
“Thanks,” Aren said. “That would be great.”
He returned to his cubicle and was absorbed in his writing when Norm returned. “This is your lucky day.”
“You got tickets?”
“Two for next Thursday night.”
Aren didn’t care what night it was. “Thanks. You’re the best.” Aren was so pleased to get the tickets that he hadn’t even bothered to check his own schedule. Once he did, he discovered he had another restaurant review arranged for the same night. Dinner and a show. He could hardly believe his luck. Heaven was looking favorably down on him this fine December day. It would be even better if Lucie contacted him. If not, then he’d take his sister.
Norm returned to his cubicle and Aren went back to writing the review for Heavenly Delights. The words flowed effortlessly and he was humming right along when he paused mid-word. A thought struck him. The call he’d sent to voice mail earlier might have been Lucie.
Grabbing his cell, he played back the message. Sure enough, just as he’d suspected.
“Hello, Aren, this is Lucie. Mom said she explained why I didn’t meet you last January. I’m sorry you were left waiting. I’m hoping that you’d be willing to give me another chance. If you are, then give me a call, and if not … well, I understand.” Her voice dipped with dread or disappointment, Aren didn’t know which.
He couldn’t push the button fast enough to call her back.
She answered with, “This is Lucie.”
“Aren,” he supplied, but before he could get another word out, Lucie started jabbering away.
“Oh, Aren, you got my call. Obviously you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be phoning me. I sound completely redundant, don’t I? It’s just that I’m so very pleased to hear from you.” She paused as if embarrassed at how fast she’d spoken. “I’ll shut up and let you talk now.”
Aren smiled and a warm happiness settled over him. “You can keep talking as long as you like. I like the sound of your voice.”
“You do?”
“It’s providential that we should meet after all these months, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes … and providential is the perfect word, but then you work with words, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Mom said you were writing for the paper. I’d looked for your name—”
“I’m not exactly their ace reporter.”
“No, but you’re a wonderful writer … at least I think you must be, even if I haven’t read anything you’ve written.”
Actually, she had read one of his most significant pieces—his review of her restaurant. But Aren couldn’t tell her that, his contract at the paper stated as much and the managing editor had taken pains to remind him. Even if he was able, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to end a promising relationship when it was just getting started.
Using this opportunity to change the subject he said, “I called because I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner and a show next week. I have two tickets to Angels at Christmas next Thursday.”
“Angels at Christmas! I heard it was impossible to get tickets for that musical.”
“I have two.”
“But, oh dear, I … don’t think I can. I’m cooking at the restaurant in the evenings.”
Of course she was. Aren couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that one key element. “Naturally you’d be working; I was so excited about the tickets I completely forgot.”
“Thursday night you say?” The question was followed by a short hesitation. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what night it is because I’m taking it off. We have a really wonderful sous-chef who can cover for me. I attended culinary school with Catherine—she’s really good. My mother’s been after me to take a break and this is important. Not to the world in general important, but important to me. Oh heaven, I’m doing it again. I probably don’t make any sense whatsoever, do I?”
“Amazingly, you do.” Aren’s grin was so wide it hurt his face. “I’ll see you next week then.”
“Okay. Will you call me with the time or should I phone you?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Wonderful. Thank you for calling me back, Aren.”
He should be the one thanking her. They said their farewells and Aren felt like he could climb a mountain. Returning to the task at hand, he waited a few minutes and then reached for his phone to contact his sister.
Josie answered almost immediately. She worked on Wall Street for a large brokerage firm.
“I have good news, good news, and bad news.”
“Do tell.”
“I heard from Lucie.” He could have tried to play it cool, but his sister knew him far too well. She’d read through his blasé attitude in one second flat. Fooling Josie would be near impossible; consequently he didn’t even try.
“She called already?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”
“Yup. That’s the good news and the bad news.”
“Explain yourself, little brother.”
“I’m taking her to dinner and a show.”
“Wow, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet. Which show?”
“That’s the bad news.”
A short hesitation followed. “Don’t tell me … you have tickets to Angels at Christmas?”
“I do.”
“Aww, man.”
“Don’t hate me,” Aren teased. “I have other good news, too, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“You might as well kick me harder. I suppose they’re orchestra seats.” She laughed and Aren knew she was happy that Lucie had agreed to go with him.
“As far as I’m concerned they could be in the nosebleed section and I wouldn’t care. My third bit of good news is that I talked to my boss and Sandy said it would be fine for me to write the review for Heavenly Delights, and retract my previous one.”
“Well, duh, of course you should.”
“I feared it might be considered a conflict of interest, but Sandy basically said not to worry about it as long as I don’t reveal my identity.”
“Good … but does Lucie or her mother know you’re the one who wrote the initial review, panning the restaurant?”
“No.”
“No? Aren, this could come back to bite you.”
“I’ll tell her when the time is right. I don’t want to hide it from her but my contract states that I can’t let anyone know my identity outside of family. Besides, Lucie and I just reconnected.”
“And you don’t want to upset the proverbial apple cart.”
“Something like that,” he admitted. In his mind he had the perfect excuse.
“Oh, Aren, promise me you won’t keep it a secret for long.”
“Josie, I’m under contract. I could lose my job if I tell her I’m writing as Eaton Well.”
“There are ways you can do it without saying it directly, you know.”
“Maybe,” he countered. “But it’s too soon.”
“Okay, I agree with you there, but I’m afraid this is going to hang over your head like a giant water balloon, threatening to burst at any moment.”
“I’ll find the right time,” he promised. “But not until I can figure out a way to do it without actually telling her and until we’ve had a chance to get to know each other better. Agreed?”
“Okay, but don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“I won’t.” This would be tricky, but he’d look for a way, and for a time when it was right.