Begin Again: Short stories from the heart (8 page)

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he snapped, glaring at her.

“You thought”—she laughed again—“Derek was serious?” The murderous look on Chase’s face said he did. “I told you he was an actor. He was auditioning for me. That’s all. Didn’t you listen to the whole message where he tells me it’s his latest script?”

“No.”

Natalie’s mood changed suddenly as she remembered the reason for her visit. “I thought you weren’t calling me because you didn’t want to see me anymore.” She shrugged. “You know, done with the job and the woman all at the same time.”

Chase moved toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth.” His blue gaze covered her. “I thought I’d been played for a fool. I love you, Natalie and I’ve missed you.
Your laughter, your smile… your sassy mouth.”

She smiled and moved her lips lightly over his. “I love you, even if you’re too handsome and too charming for your own good.” Their lips melted together.
“Oh, and too rich.
Don’t forget too rich.”

Chase laughed low in his throat. “You make me sound like an affliction.” He drew away slightly, his voice suddenly serious. “I’m just me, Natalie. If the money were all gone tomorrow, I’d still be rich as long as I had you by my side. “

“That’s sounds like a proposal.” She threw her arms around his neck, urging him closer as she brought her mouth to his.

“And that sounds like an acceptance,” he murmured, lowering his head to meet her kiss.

“Yes,” she sighed. “It certainly does.”

“And Nicole says he’s ridden on elephants in Africa and surfed in Bali.”

“
Mmm
...that’s nice,” Maggie said, removing the tissue paper from another Christmas ornament.
Our First Christmas, 1983,
stared back at her in the shape of a twinkling star.

“And he’s
skied
the Alps.”

“Really?”
Maggie re-wrapped the ornament and stuck it in the bottom of the box. Jeff had been like that star, all glittery on the outside and hollow on the inside. Too bad she hadn’t found out sooner. No, then she wouldn’t have Danielle.

“Mom!
Did you hear anything I said?” Danielle slid down the soft cushions of her chair to land seated, cross-legged on the floor next to her mother.

“I am listening, honey,” Maggie said, lining up her collection of snowmen.
Paper
mache
beside ceramics, ceramics beside wood.
“You were telling me about one of your friend’s fathers who likes to ski.”

“No, Mom. See, I knew you weren’t listening,” Danielle said, rolling her eyes like a typical twelve year old.

“Okay.” Maggie put down a miniature version of Frosty and said, “I’m listening now.”

“Well, I was trying to tell you about Nicole’s dad, Mr. Webster.”

“Is his first
name
Daniel?” Maggie joked, trying to divert the direction of the conversation. She had a funny feeling she knew where it was headed.

“Mom.
Stop.”

“Okay. No more jokes. Tell me about Mr. Webster.” There had been a ‘Mr. Webster’ every year since the third grade when Danielle realized her father wasn’t coming back home. Maggie cringed at the thought of her matchmaker daughter in action. When Danielle set her mind to it, no place was safe. Not school, church, or the grocery store. Every square inch of their small town served as a meeting place for a potential ‘Mr. Right.’

“Well,” Danielle said, flinging her blondish-brown hair from her shoulders, “his name is Matthew Webster and he’s a photographer.” Danielle grinned. “He’s really cute.
Just your type.”

Maggie stared at her daughter.
“My type?
What do you mean he’s my type?” What on earth did her preteen daughter know about her preference in men?

“He’s tall, dark brown hair, blue eyes. You’d think he was really good looking. But he’s also super nice. Coaches the boy’s basketball team and he
doesn’t
even have a boy. And he’s offering a beginner’s photography class for anyone in our grade who wants to go, which I do by the way. If they don’t have a camera or can’t afford the film, he said he’ll take care of it. Mr. Webster doesn’t want anyone to not be able to participate because of money.”
Another grin.
“See, stuff like that. I know you like that kind of thing.”

Maggie was impressed that this man, a newcomer to their sleepy town, would even be interested in helping the children let alone shelling out his own money to do it.

“What happened to Nicole’s mother?” Curiosity won out over indifference. Had she died? Or had they become just another statistic, like
herself
and Jeff?

“Her mom died when she was four.
Car accident.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“They don’t have any other family either.”

“How sad.”

“Nicole says she wishes I were her sister.”

Maggie chose to ignore that last comment.

“So why isn’t Mr. Webster traveling all over the world anymore? And why did he ever decide to settle in our little town?” He was probably bored out of his mind. Jeff had always hated this town. When the opportunity for bright lights and a big name in the city came along he bailed out fast, informing Maggie that a wife and child didn’t fit into his plans anymore.

“He loves this place. He came to our class to talk about his work a few weeks ago. Mr. Webster told us there’s so much beauty around us we could live a lifetime and not see it all. He said we should go outside and walk in the woods, or look at a tree or a stream and see and feel the colors and shapes.”

“But why
Pendleville
?”
Maggie asked.

“Because he said Pennsylvania was like an artist’s palette with color and texture all wrapped in one.” Danielle held out her hand and began counting off on her fingers.
“Spring, green and yellow, summer, blue and pink, fall, orange and red, winter, white and black.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I never thought of it that way, but it’s kind of neat, isn’t it?”

Maggie nodded. What kind of man could hold the attention of a twelve year old long enough to impart a lesson that was welcomed? And remembered? Maggie had to admit, the persona of Matthew Webster intrigued her.

“And he also said it was time to put down some roots. Get
himself
and Nicole settled in a place they could call home. They came here two years ago on a camping trip and fell in love with the town. It took a while for Mr. Webster to finish his assignments but now they’re here to stay. So, Mom, doesn’t he sound neat? When do you want to meet him?” Danielle smiled at her mother, reminding her of a puppy trying desperately to please its master.

“Why is it so very important that I meet this man? Or any man for that matter?” She had a comfortable, secure, if not slightly boring life. Just the way she liked it.

Danielle rolled her eyes again.
“For company.”

“I already have the best company in the world,” Maggie said, leaning over and squeezing Danielle’s hand.

“I mean adult company. Man
company
.” Danielle looked at her mother and her expression became very serious. “It’s time, you know.”

“Time?”
Maggie repeated, not believing her daughter was giving her the same lecture she’d heard from her own mother two weeks ago.

“Yeah, you know. Like go out on a date.”

“I’ve been very busy lately.”

“Mom, you’ve had exactly seven dates in the last three years and two of them were ones Grandma and I set up for you.”

“Don’t remind me of your scheming ways or your grandmother’s. I’m still mad about the way you two tricked me into going on those dates.”
Henry
Mosler
, the plumber, and Eugene Gleason, the hardware store owner.
They had been about as exciting as a socket wrench. It would have been fine if she had wanted to become a plumber’s apprentice or learn the difference between a washer and a sinker, which she didn’t. But as a potential new man in her life, no thank you.

“I always thought they were kind of geeky but Grandma said they came from good families.”

It was Maggie’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Grandma and her family lineage.
Does Mr. Webster come from a good family, too?”

Danielle shrugged. “I don’t think he has much of a family at all, except Nicole.” She looked her mother straight in the eye and whispered, “But we could change all that, Mom.”

Maggie sighed and shook her head. Her daughter just never gave up.

“Nicole can’t wait to meet you. I told her all about you. Well, just the good stuff. I didn’t tell her about the ratty old sweats you wear around the house or how your voice is off-key when you sing. She’ll find that out soon enough and by then she and Mr. Webster will both love you and it won’t matter.”

Maggie shook her head again. “No.”

Danielle folded her arms over her small chest and stuck out her lower lip.
“Why not?
It’s not like you’re ugly or anything. Lots of my friends think you’re really pretty. For a mom,” she added.

“Yeah, for a mom and an old one at that.”

Danielle tilted her head and studied her mother. “Thirty-six isn’t that old.”

Maggie arched a brow. “Last week you thought
thirty
was ancient. What changed your mind?”

“Well, Mr. Webster is thirty-nine and he looks really good. So, Nicole and I decided you were both still young enough to get married and who knows, maybe even give us a little brother.”

“Danielle!”

“Okay, so maybe it is a little early to be discussing kids.”

“A little.”

“Okay, I just want to ask you one more question and then I’ll drop it.”

Here it comes.

Danielle fiddled with her hair and cleared her throat twice. “If you met Mr. Webster and he turned out to be all of the things I said he was, would you give him a chance?”

Maggie groaned. “You never give up do you?”

“Just tell me, Mom, would you give him a chance?”

“Okay, okay,” Maggie said, raising her hands. “Listen to me and try to understand. I love my work. The craft business we have gives me an opportunity to express myself through wood, tiles, ceramic, silks. You name it, I create it. And make a darn good living at it, too. There’s no man handing me an allowance or paying my bills. Then there’s you and Grandma. You’ve both been my world for more years than I can remember.
Just the three of us.
If I were to even think of a relationship with a man he would have to be all the things you mentioned and more.”

It was the truth. She could never settle for a mediocre relationship again and thought it pointless to date for the sake of dating. In the early days after her divorce, men called her regularly for dinner, the movies,
a
ball game. Maggie had turned them all down, opting to stay home and cuddle up with a good book. After a while, the calls dwindled until they became almost nonexistent. It was just as well. The men had all been mediocre and Maggie would bet her next paycheck Matthew Webster would fit into that category, too.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Webster is
totally awesome
.”

***

Three days later, Maggie and Danielle plowed down the snow-laden country road to the McKinley Tree Farm.

“Mrs. McKinley has the best hot chocolate and peppermint sticks. I look forward to those as much as picking out our tree,” Danielle said.

“I know, so do I.” Maggie rounded a curve and spotted the huge black-and-white McKinley Tree Farm sign. “The
McKinleys
have been doing this since I was a little girl.”

“Wow,
Mom, that
is
a long time.” Danielle laughed.
“Almost pre-historic.”

Maggie laughed too and pulled the SUV into the field designated for parking. Snow fell in huge wet flakes, covering the ground with a fresh blanket of white. Since their discussion three days ago, Danielle hadn’t mentioned Matthew Webster’s name. Perhaps she’d thought about their talk and reconsidered her matchmaking plan. Danielle didn’t usually give up that easily but Maggie was not about to pry and open up the subject of Matthew Webster again.

Danielle ran several feet ahead, kicking up huge clumps of snow as she forged her own path. “Come on, Mom,” she said, motioning with a gloved hand. “Let’s go over by the Douglas firs.”

Maggie followed, tramping along the path Danielle had created. Snow clung to the trees, glistening like diamonds. The
setting was an
artist’s palette with color and texture
all wrapped in one. Winter is black and white
. The words ran through her brain before she realized what they were.
Matthew Webster’s words.
Pushing them aside, she forged ahead, her gaze focused on Danielle’s purple stocking cap.