Honey on Your Mind (8 page)

I finished the last of my wine and set the empty glass on the bar. “Done.”

“Lobby at eight?” she said.

“Lobby at eight.”

We were about to walk away when the bartender approached us and set a full glass of wine in front of me. “Excuse me, ma’am, but the ladies at the other end of the bar would like to buy you a drink.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

I looked toward the end of the bar and saw two heavyset women with short, poufy hair smiling and waving at me.

“Do you know them?” Paige asked.

I frowned. “I don’t think so.”
Do I know anyone in Chicago?

“Well apparently they know you. Listen, would you mind if I headed up to my room? I’m beat.”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t stay out too late, OK? We have to be at our best tomorrow.”

I saluted. “Got it.”

I picked up the wine glass and jostled through the crowd toward the other end of the bar. As I approached, the shorter of the two women stood up.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

I had no idea how to respond, so I just said, “Is it really me?”

“Yes, are you Waverly from
Love, Wendy
?”

Ah!

I smiled. “Yes, that’s me. So you’ve seen the show?”

She nodded. “Oh
yes
, we never miss it! I’m Marge, and this is Evelyn.” She held out her hand, and as I shook it, I couldn’t help but notice her square, pink, acrylic fingernails. Then I shook Evelyn’s hand. She wore her frizzy hair in a banana clip, and her square, pink, acrylic fingernails were even brighter than Marge’s. The kindness in their faces struck me more than their appearance, however, and I immediately liked them both.

“I’m Waverly Bryson. It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re just tickled to meet
you
,” Evelyn said. “We live in a small town called Chippewa Falls, way up in northern Wisconsin, so being in Chicago is exciting enough for us. But running into a
real celebrity
? This is just too exciting.”

I laughed and put my hand on my chest. “A celebrity? Me?”
Ha.

“Oh yes,” Marge said, completely serious. “I recognized you right away. I turned straight to Evelyn here and said, ‘Gosh darn, Evelyn, if that isn’t the girl who does that fun new
Honey on Your Mind
segment for
Love, Wendy
.’”

Evelyn nodded. “We’re both tickled to death to meet you. I
loved
the segment where you asked people what desserts were on their mind. But I couldn’t believe no one said apple pie. Why didn’t anyone say apple pie? That’s so
un-American
!” She looked confused, as though I’d just told her Sarah Palin’s grasp of English grammar could use a little work.

I pointed at her. “Now
that
is an excellent answer. It’s too bad I didn’t run into you on the street that day. You would have made a great interview subject.”

She crossed her hands over her heart. “Me in New York City? Oh my, I don’t think I could handle that.” She looked at Marge. “Could you imagine? Me in New York City?”

“I loved the segment where you asked people what regrets were on their mind,” Marge said to me. “It was just so…
honest
.”
She turned to Evelyn. “Didn’t you just about cry when that woman said she regretted not telling her dad how much she loved him before he died?”

Evelyn nodded. “I cried. Then I called my dad. Right there from the couch.”

Marge laughed. “So did I!” She put her hand on my arm and squeezed, then became very serious again. “You’ve got something really special on that show, Waverly.”

I felt myself blush and had no idea what to say. I often thought of my segment as pure entertainment fluff, but these women were sincere…
fans
. And I was sincerely touched by their enthusiasm.

Maybe I
do
have something special
, I thought.

Thankfully, Marge broke the silence. “What’s it like working with Wendy Davenport? Is she as beautiful in real life? We think she’s just wonderful.”

I took a sip of my drink and nodded. I knew that if I said anything I was really thinking I’d completely burst their bubble
and
sound like a bitch, so I decided to change the subject. “She’s great. So what brings you ladies to Chicago?”

“Oh, we’re here for the big scrapbooking convention,” Marge said.

“The big scrapbooking convention?”

Evelyn nodded. “You don’t know it?”

I shook my head.
Huh
?

“No way. For real? But it’s such a big show,” Marge said. She looked incredulous.

I took another sip of my wine. “What is scrapbooking? Is that like putting together a photo album?”

They looked at each other as though I’d asked them who the president was.

Marge patted my arm and smiled. “My dear, comparing a scrapbook to a photo album is like comparing pastrami hash to corned beef hash. Can you imagine?”

Huh?

I feigned understanding because it was clear we were never going to be in the same book, much less on the same page. “Oh wow, I had no idea. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

Evelyn laughed. “No offense taken, my dear. We wouldn’t expect you New Yorkers to have the same hobbies that we do in the Midwest. You’re all so fancy.”

Me? A New Yorker? Am I a New Yorker now?

I started thinking about how much my life had changed—and all in a matter of weeks. New career, new city, new life.

It had all happened so fast.

“Waverly?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?

Evelyn smiled. “So what about you? What brings you to Chicago?”

“Oh, I’m here for a meeting tomorrow morning with a buyer for a line of products tied into
Honey on Your Mind
.” As soon as I said the words, I realized how late it was getting. If I was going to be sharp for the meeting, I really needed to get to bed.

Marge’s eyes opened wide. “You have a line of products tied into
Honey on Your Mind
?”

I nodded. “It’s called Waverly’s Honey Shop. It’s just online right now, but I’m working on expanding into regular stores. The meeting tomorrow is with Jordan Brooke.”

Evelyn clapped her hands together. “Jordan Brooke? I love that store! I shop there all the time. I want to buy something from Waverly’s Honey Shop.”

“Me too,” Marge said. “Our friends back in Chippewa Falls are going to be so jealous we met you. Do you have a card?”

I fished around in my purse and handed them each a card. Then I gestured toward the elevators. “I hate to drink and run, but I need my beauty rest if I’m going to be fresh for that meeting tomorrow morning. Would you mind if I said good night?”
Beauty rest? Did I really just say that?

“Only if you take a picture with us first!” Marge pulled out a camera from her enormous purse, and I proceeded to pose for a few pictures.

For their scrapbooks, of course. Not their photo albums.

They hugged me good-bye and wished me well.

Then I hit the hay, Midwestern-style.

• • •

Lobby at eight
meant
wake-up call at seven
, which came much too early for me, even with the time difference in my favor. I bolted upright and grabbed the receiver to stop the piercing ringing.

“Thanks,” I said groggily to the automated voice, not sure why I was talking to a recording.

I hung up the phone and collapsed back on the pillow, wishing I hadn’t had that extra glass of wine. It had been fun to meet real “fans” in Evelyn and Marge, but I needed to be sharp for the meeting, and I was feeling quite dull at the moment.

A steaming hot shower and two cups of coffee later, I felt much better as the elevator doors opened to the lobby. I exited and looked around for Paige. She was sitting in a plush chair near the bar area, scrolling through her phone.

“Hi, Paige, did you sleep OK?”

She shrugged as I approached, still looking at her phone. “Not great. Listen, I have some bad news.”

“Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

She tossed her phone in her purse. “The buyer just canceled on us.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“Not joking. Something came up, and she had to fly to Indianapolis last night.”

I sat down in a chair next to her. “Last night? And they just told you now?”

She nodded. “Her assistant just e-mailed me.”

“So we came all the way here for nothing?”

“Not necessarily. The buyer’s scheduled to return this afternoon, so they’re asking to move the meeting to four o’clock.”

“Four o’clock?”

“Yep.”

Frick
.

Jake was flying into New York at seven.

Paige looked hopefully at me. “Can you stay? If we get on the seven o’clock flight, we’ll be back in New York a little after ten.”

“Do I have a choice?”

She smiled. “It’s your company, but if I were you, I’d stay.”

I knew she was right. But still,
ugh
.

I nodded. “OK, let’s do it.”

• • •

Several hours later, we were in a cab on the way to the meeting when Paige’s phone rang. As she fished it out of her purse, I gazed out the window and admired the beauty of the crisp fall Chicago
afternoon. The leaves were changing colors and swirling in the air all around us.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Amber, we’re on our way to your office right now. What’s up?”

Pause.

“Oh no, really?”

I snapped my neck around.
Oh no,
what
?

Paige nodded. “I see.”

I see
what
?

“Uh-huh, I understand.”

“You understand
what
?” I whispered to Paige. She swatted me away.

“Let me check with Waverly.” Paige covered the phone with her hand and looked at me. “The buyer isn’t getting back from Indianapolis until late tonight now. She wants to meet us for brunch tomorrow.”

“And her assistant is just telling us this
now
?”

Paige whispered, “I get the feeling she’s not about to be promoted anytime soon,” and pointed to the phone. “So what do you want to do? I know this is screwing up your weekend with Jake. I’m so sorry.”

I slouched in my seat. “I can’t believe this.” Jake was having dinner with Shane and Kristina in Manhattan, but he was expecting to meet me at my apartment at eleven. I already felt terrible for making him wait a few hours.

“I know, and I’m really sorry, Waverly, but unfortunately this is how the business works. We’re selling a product, which means we’re at the mercy of the buyers, and they know it.”

I sighed. “OK, fine.”

“Fine?”

I nodded.

“You sure?”

I nodded again. “Yeah, it’s OK. Let’s meet her tomorrow. I have a ton more work e-mails to deal with today anyway.” Maybe I could even take a nap before dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a nap.

She smiled and squeezed my knee as she put the phone back to her ear. “Amber, are you still there? OK yes, brunch tomorrow will work.”

I leaned toward the cab driver as Paige coordinated our plans for the next day with Amber. “Can you take us back to the hotel, please?”

• • •

“This is like
Groundhog Day
.” I took a sip of my wine and set it on the bar. Paige and I were back at the crowded hotel a couple hours later, having a drink, and trying to stay positive.

She laughed. “At least the hotel didn’t give away our rooms. It would
not
be fun wandering around Chicago looking for a place to stay on a Friday night. Can you imagine if we ended up at a scary Motel 6 in the middle of nowhere?”

I pointed at her and nodded. “True. I wonder if those scrapbooking ladies will find me again.”

“You mean your
fans
?”

I laughed. “I admit it was a bit surreal, but they were super nice, despite the fact that they don’t seem to realize it’s not the eighties anymore.”

“Yeah, it must be a trip to have total strangers recognize you like that.”

“It was. It was like they felt they really knew me, even though they’d never even met me. It was strange. Can you imagine how
real
celebrities must feel?”

She sipped her drink. “It seems like a lot of people are watching
Love, Wendy,
so you’re probably going to have to get used to it.”

“I don’t know if I could ever get used to it, to be honest.”

“So things are cool with Jake?” I’d noticed that Paige asked me about him quite a bit, which always made me feel a little bad for her. It was obvious she really wanted to be in a relationship, so I didn’t want to talk too much about how great mine was.

“Yeah, but I feel awful that he’s in New York right now and I’m still here. He knows it’s not my fault, but I could tell he was disappointed.” At least I’d been able to reach him with my latest change in plans before he boarded his flight. “He’s going to stay with friends tonight, and he and I will meet up tomorrow for dinner. It’s not ideal, but at least I’ll still get to see him.”

“He sounds like a good one, Waverly.”

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“I think I’m done with trying to find the right guy for me. Dating is just too painful.” She took another sip of her drink and sighed.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey now, don’t think that way. You sound exactly like me, before I met Jake.”

“I do?”

“Just ask your cousin. Remember those crazy dating stories I told you when we first met?”

She nodded.

“Those are just a few of like…a billion. I was
convinced
I’d be alone forever. So trust me, there are good guys out there. If
I
could find one, anyone can.”

She sighed again. “I’m just sick of it, you know? Every time I get my hopes up, I’m inevitably disappointed, or I get hurt, or both. Here I am in my midthirties, and I’m still dealing with awkward first dates. I just never thought I’d still be alone at this age.”

I looked at her and remembered how many times I’d said something similar, if not those exact words, to Andie and McKenna. With so many people in the world, why was finding just
one
to love who will love you back so hard?