Lover's Lane (35 page)

He took her hand. “Thanks for tonight, Carly. I needed to see you again. I’m not going to deny that I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” She leaned over the armrest to touch his face, and he took it as a sign that she wanted more. He slipped his arm around her, drew her close, and kissed her long and deep, kissed her until they were both breathless and clinging to each other for support.

She moaned against his lips when his hand cupped her breast.

Frustrated by the console between the bucket seats, Jake groaned aloud and ended the kiss, leaned back and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh.

“Either you go inside now, or I’m taking you over to my condo. It’s two minutes away.” His deep voice sounded thick with desire.

More than tempted to tell him to start the car, she reached for him again, framed his face between her palms and kissed him good-bye with a kiss that was chaste but full of longing.

“I’ll see you in Twilight,” she promised.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Carly found Anna waiting, although she tried to convince her that she’d only stayed up to watch the news. She invited Carly to join her where they could see the lights of the city from the lush white couches near the bank of windows. The sliding doors were open to the cool night, the scent of the salt air, and the sounds of the city.

A siren sounded as a fire truck pulled out of the station a block away. The shrill whine faded into the distance. Anna turned off the television.

“Do you love him, Carly?”

“I do, Anna. No question. He’s asked me to marry him.”

“What do you want?”

What do I want?
“I want to be sure. More than that, I want Jake to be sure. He had a bad experience the first time he married. I don’t want him marrying me out of some mixed-up sense of obligation to Rick or to me.”

Anna shifted and tightened the sash on her silk robe. “The expression I’ve seen in his eyes when he looks at you isn’t that of a man who’s with you out of obligation.” She paused as if debating what she was about to say. “Do you mind if I give you a piece of advice, Carly?”

“Not at all, though I can’t guarantee I’ll take it.”

“Life is short. If he’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, don’t wait. There were things that happened to me in my childhood that were . . . bleak, things I thought would cloud my whole life. But I found out that it’s all right to be happy, Carly. Don’t ever forget that sometimes you have to grab all the happiness you can with both hands.”

“Thank you, Anna. And thank you for letting me spend this time here in your beautiful home. I know you love Christopher, just as I know now what I must have put you through when I disappeared. All I can say is that I’m sincerely sorry.”

“So am I, Carly, but the past is behind us now.”

They sat in easy silence, content with the night, the company, and perhaps for the first time in a long, long while, their lives.

Anna’s voice broke the stillness again. “Did Jake ever tell you what was in the envelope that he gave me that day at your house?”

“No, and I never asked. Besides, as you just said, the past is behind us. Both of us. Now we both have the future to look forward to with Christopher.”

48

ANNA SPENT MOST OF LATE SUMMER MOVING FROM ONE AIR-CONDITIONED environment to the other, thankful to be living at the beach where the temperature usually became bearable in the evenings. After dark, she liked to turn off the air, open the bank of windows and enjoy her balcony.

The penthouse echoed with emptiness now that Carly and Christopher were gone. The week they had spent with her had been one of the best times she’d had in years. So much so that when they drove away in the old rattletrap station wagon, she had to fight crying like a baby.

Now, two weeks later, she was adding her own touch to a floral arrangement that had just been delivered when the call buzzer rang and she answered it, thinking it was probably the floral delivery boy again.

It turned out to be the UPS courier.

When the sturdy young woman who made all the deliveries had no trouble hefting the unwieldy package into the foyer, Anna promised her an extra tip if she would pry open the huge, elongated yet slender box with Carly’s return address neatly printed on the outside.

The moment the painting was unwrapped, both Anna and the courier stepped back to take it in.

The courier crossed her arms and shook her head. “That frame doesn’t match anything you’ve got.”

Anna ignored the plain white wooden frame. That could be replaced. She only had eyes for the artwork itself. The longer she studied the painting, the more it moved her.

She recognized the bluff at Twilight Cove and the panoramic view beyond, but it was the older woman seated on the bench and the child holding her hands as he stared adoringly into her face that constantly drew her eye.

The figures appeared quite ghostly, executed in a white overlay that was somehow transparent and otherworldly, yet at the same time, substantial and full of life. The scene depicted life in the early eighteen-hundreds at a time when the Californios lived like royalty.

She was not much given to flights of fancy and would never have chosen a painting peopled with ethereal figures such as these, and yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of the work.

“Ma’am?” The courier was growing impatient.

Anna walked around behind the painting. A label on the back listed the date, Carly’s name, and the simple title,
Familia
.

She appreciated the stranger in her foyer seeing her sudden rush of tears.

“That’s a portrait of me,” she said when she found her voice at last. Anna pointed to the child in the painting. “And that’s my grandson.”

Finally she pointed to the young woman seated on the ground near the wide roots of the tree.

“And that,” she said softly, “is my daughter.”

A few days ago, Carly had shipped Anna’s painting to Long Beach, wondering if Anna would find it suitable—until a huge bouquet of roses arrived this morning along with a card that read, “Words cannot express my thanks. Love, Grandma Anna.”

Now Carly was delivering another completed piece, one she wanted to present in person. She glanced in the rearview mirror and then adjusted the air conditioning. It was still hard to believe that Anna had bought them a new car.

Carly had refused the offer when she was in Long Beach, but at the beginning of their first week back in Twilight, the dealer from San Luis Obispo had left the keys on her porch and the new black Volvo wagon parked in front of the house.

She called Anna and insisted she would make the car payments, only to be told that the car was already paid for. Besides, Anna had added, it was really for Christopher. She wanted him riding around in a safe, dependable car. Carly finally gave up and graciously accepted.

As the car easily wound up the hillside along Lover’s Lane toward Jake’s drive, Carly turned up the radio and sang along with Trisha Yearwood, hoping to drown out her mounting anticipation.

She hadn’t seen Jake in more than passing since she and Chris returned. Twilight was overrun with tourists. The Diner was crowded most of the time and Geoff had begged her to work for him on Sunday afternoons, so she agreed.

Jake had taken her and Christopher out for tacos once, but the conversation had been strained. Jake was still waiting for an answer from the owners of the house as well as from her.

She kept busy, taking on extra work hours at the diner, but with August half over, she wasn’t sure if or when Jake would be leaving to return to Long Beach, and the more she thought about his being so far away, the worse she felt.

When she pulled into the drive, she was disappointed that his car wasn’t there. She parked anyway, anxiety mounting as she lifted the painting wrapped in brown paper out of the car and walked up to the front door.

Jake had painted the porch floor a high gloss eggshell. Two tall rockers sat side by side facing the view.

She rang the bell twice, but no one answered. She tried the knob and found it unlocked so she opened it, called out hello a few times and walked in.

She hadn’t been there in weeks, so when she looked around the living room, she was amazed at the transformation. The hardwood oak floors gleamed golden beneath streams of sunlight. Two white love seats flanked the fireplace. Between them Jake had placed a distressed plank coffee table, and in front of the window there was a deep, overstuffed chair with a small reading table piled high with books beside a kerosene lamp.

When she saw it, a chill ran down her spine.

Letting her gaze roam over the rest of the room, she noticed that the space above the fireplace mantel was empty.

She glanced at her watch before she set the painting down on the floor in front of the empty fireplace and wished she had time to wait for him, but Selma needed her at the diner in forty minutes.

With a last look around, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Frustrated by not finding Carly at home, Jake walked through his front door and tossed his keys on the coffee table. Then he spotted the package wrapped in brown paper tied with twine resting in front of the fireplace. He guessed by its shape and size that it had to be a painting from Carly and wondered why she hadn’t waited until she could give it to him in person.

A wave of disappointment swept him as he picked it up, carried it to the dining table and carefully unwrapped it, afraid that it was meant as a gesture of consolation, that she’d finally created a sunset painting for him as a fitting ending to their relationship.

The frame was dark oak, done in simple Craftsman style to match the house. First he carefully studied the sunset sky, vibrant with streaks of color from bright gold to deep indigo before he carried the painting over to the mantel and stepped back to take in the whole piece.

At first he was surprised that she hadn’t chosen the setting of the bluff in town. Instead, she’d captured the exact view of the sunsets that he enjoyed from his front porch. She had also included the house in the painting, the rolling hillside and deep arroyos surrounding it.

Rendered in her near-transparent technique, a Model A Ford from the 1920s was parked in front of the house. There were two tall rockers on the porch, a lamp with a glass chimney burning bright on a table in the window. He’d just bought an identical lamp last week, and he knew for certain that there was no way Carly could have known about it.

Every detail of the painting was perfect. He was deeply moved by the care she’d taken to depict the house exactly the way it must have looked when first built.

It was a wonderful painting, a very personal one with such special meaning that it almost hurt to see it. If indeed she was turning down his proposal, he doubted he could ever hang the painting at all, for it would stir up too many memories.

He didn’t know what to think as he continued to stare between the house and the Model A, and then he finally let his gaze sweep the entire canvas.

What he saw next nearly brought him to his knees.

A couple clothed in 1920’s style stood together on the hillside, staring out to sea. The woman’s head rested on the man’s shoulder. Their arms were draped around each others’ waists in a tender pose that spoke of time-forged affection.

Beyond them, highlighted by the sunset, a boy and a spotted dog chased a ball across the grassy hillside.

Jake stared intently at the painting just to be certain he wasn’t seeing what he wanted to see, but the three ghostly figures were really there.

The house echoed with the sound of his hurried footsteps as he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.

There was a line for lunch at Plaza Diner.

Tourists wearing all manner of shorts, tank tops, swim-suit cover-ups, and straw hats milled around in front, waiting for a table. Others were crammed inside the front door, taking advantage of the air conditioning.

Carly was balancing a tray with four orders of hamburger combos and two small salads, heading across the room to a booth by the window when she noticed a tall man in a dark gray felt hat, sunglasses and a rumpled khaki trench coat with the collar turned up. He had just stepped through the front door into the crowded waiting area.

She looked away as she balanced the tray on the edge of the table and started handing out plates of food, but something compelled her to glance over her shoulder and take a second look at the man. His back was to her now, and he appeared to be talking to a stocky woman beside him.

Carly thought it odd that he hadn’t removed his sunglasses once he stepped inside, but she figured he was up from L.A., and there was no telling what people from down there were into.

Once all the meals had been delivered, and she was certain the family at the table was satisfied for the moment, she started to inquire at the next booth down the line if anyone needed anything else, when Selma walked up to her.

“Who’s the weirdo in line?” she asked Carly.

“How would I know? Do you think we should have Joe call the police and have them check him out?”

The guy was really starting to creep her out. He had a spiral notebook in his hand and he appeared to be scribbling notes as he moved through the tight knot of customers waiting to be seated.

“I’m just going to go over and ask him right out who he is and what he’s doing. He reminds me of somebody.”

“Me too,” Carly admitted.

“I’m thinking the guy looks like Tom Selleck on the old
Magnum P.I.
reruns, but his outfit is more like
Columbo
.”

“Who?”

“You’re too young. Never mind.” Selma started across the room and Carly tried to concentrate on the customers at her tables. When she glanced over at Selma again, she noticed her boss had her arms crossed beneath her ample breasts. She was rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she spoke to the tall man standing directly in front of her. He was, indeed, jotting something down on a small tablet.

It wasn’t until he turned Carly’s way that she realized with a jolt it was Jake and that Selma was laughing.

Before Carly could move, he shoved the notebook into one of the baggy pockets of his trench coat and came striding toward her.

“What are you doing?” She glanced around and noticed that a lot more customers were staring at him now. He made a tall, imposing figure in the long coat, hat, and glasses, especially on such a warm day.

“I’m working a case.”

“What are you talking about? What case?”

“I’m looking for a beautiful blonde. Twenty-six, goes by the name Carly Nolan. She’s got a six-year-old boy and she’s quite an accomplished artist. She just left one of her paintings up at my house, and I’d like to talk to her about it.”

Carly realized the customers at the table beside her were all listening intently, so she lowered her voice, hoping he’d do the same.

“Jake, take off that ridiculous outfit.”

“Can’t. I’m on the job. Private Investigator Montgomery. Tracking down the woman he loves.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, then opened her eyes and reached for his sunglasses, slipped them off and handed them to him.

He dropped them into the gaping pocket of his overcoat.

“So, do you know where I can find her?”

“That depends on what you want her for.” She folded her arms and bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing.

“Watch it, there are kids at this table,” he said softly.

By now Selma had walked over to stand beside Jake. Some of the people waiting by the door had eased closer, too. The whole restaurant had gone silent, the clatter of utensils, the hum of conversation, the ringing of Joe’s order bell, had all faded away.

“I need to find out if I got the message straight,” he told Carly.

“The message?”

“I think that she was trying to give me a message in her painting. I think that it means she’ll marry me.”

“I think you’re right.”

He took off his hat and coat and handed them over to Selma, who was now beaming at them. Joe had walked out of the kitchen and was standing there watching the exchange in his grease-spattered white apron with a spatula in his hand.

“And how would you know for certain unless you
are
Carly Nolan?” He put both hands at the small of her back and pulled her close.

Carly glanced around, her cheeks blazing. Everyone in the room was intent upon their conversation.

“Jake, not here,” she whispered.

She had no idea he’d been untying her apron until he pulled it off and handed that to Selma, too. Then he picked her up, kissed her long and slow and sweet right in front of a diner full of people before he turned to Selma again.

“Can you call in someone to cover her shift?”

“Jake, put me down.” Carly made a half-hearted attempt to get out of his arms.

He ignored her.

“I’ve got a girl on standby,” Selma assured him over Carly’s protest.

“Great. Thanks, Selma.” He gave Selma a quick kiss on the cheek and then with Carly in his arms, headed for the front door.

The pudgy woman in powder-blue shorts and a matching oversized T-shirt grabbed hold of his sleeve. Jake turned with Carly still in his arms.

“Hey, aren’t you that private investigator who was on the television news a while back? I’d like to talk to you about finding my husband. He’s behind on his child support and—”