Make-Believe Wedding Page 2

  Her brow furrowed. “Who are you talking about?” She’d never heard him speak that way before. She hoped he wasn’t ill.

  “You remember me talkin’ about my time at the Chron?”

  “Of course.”

  He sighed. “I just wish things had happened differently. Wallace Holden was my best friend, did you know that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I knew you were friends …”

  “And I never had another friend like him. Not after things went bad … never mind, I’m bein’ sentimental, is all. Nothin’ for you to worry about, Sugar Pie.”

  “Okay.” But she did worry – she couldn’t help it. Usually Granddad was so gruff and matter-of-fact. He wasn’t introspective or nostalgic – it wasn’t his way. “But you are all right, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled. “I’m fine, just fine. I’ll let you get back to takin’ over the world. Just make sure you come by and see me sometime soon, okay?”

  She agreed to see him on the weekend, then hung up, her thoughts spinning. She’d have to talk to Dad about this, find out if there was anything else going on. Granddad had spoken of Wallace Holden before, but never so fondly – usually his name was followed by a string of cusswords.

  Molly spun around in her chair, hands linked behind her head – and found Amanda staring at her from her glass-walled office. She gestured for Molly to come in while fiddling with her headset.

  Amanda was thirty-six and felt entitled to boss her thirty-two-year-old sister around – at least that’s how it always felt to Molly. Even when they were kids playing school, Amanda was always the teacher or the principal and Molly the student. If they played family, Amanda was the mother and Molly the baby. Now as adults, Amanda was still telling her what to do – though as the Times’ news editor, she really was Molly’s boss.

  Molly stood and hurried into her sister’s office. Surely Amanda wouldn’t push back on the article – it was one of the best she’d ever written. She had to see that. A surge of pride welled up, giving her goose pimples, and she smiled warmly at her sister. Amanda indicated a seat, and she sat slowly, then leaned forward over Amanda’s desk.

  Amanda finished her call and smiled tightly. “Nice piece.”

  Molly grinned. “I thought you’d like it.”

  Amanda linked her fingers together and set them on the desk, her hazel eyes boring into Molly’s blues. “I just skimmed it, but I can see it’s good. Still, I can’t run it – not tomorrow.”

  Molly’s nostrils flared. “Why not?”

  “You know why not – you missed the deadline. Deadlines exist for a reason, Molly. You know that better than anyone.”

  “We had that ridiculous fire drill …”

  “It wasn’t a drill – there was a gas leak. It could’ve been a very dangerous situation, but thankfully it’s now contained.”

  Amanda constantly amazed Molly. At work she was all business. Molly sometimes wondered where she’d got it from, then remembered how their grandfather and now her father ran the paper. But why did she always have to make Molly feel like she was eight years old again and she’d taken her favorite dolly? She straightened up and did her best to feel her age. “I understand that, but whatever it was, it interrupted me in the final stages of the article. I would’ve made the deadline …”

  Amanda sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It fell perfectly in place around her face, accenting her high cheekbones. “Molly, I’m sorry, but I can’t make an exception for you. Layout needed everything from me ten minutes ago. Everyone else got their pieces to me in time, even with the interruption. If I start showing you leniency, it’ll upset everyone else in the office, or I’ll have to give everyone the same flexibility. Then layout suffers, the printers suffer, everyone suffers … do you understand?”

  Molly nodded, her stomach in knots. All that work for nothing.

  “We’ll run it the next day,” Amanda added, with a softer tone and a half smile.

  Molly frowned. “Of course … unless someone else breaks the story first.”

  Amanda nodded, already turning her attention to her computer screen “You should take the rest of the day off.”

  “What? No, I’m fine. I’ve got that other thing …”

  “It’s not a request. You’ve been working too hard. Take the afternoon off. Go out, have some fun. It’s all part of our innovation initiative. Apparently people are more innovative when they get time off to rest.”

  “Okay.” Molly wandered back to her desk, feeling deflated.

  Vicky peered over the gray fabric cubicle partition. “How’d it go?”

  “I missed the deadline.”

  “Oh suck. I’m sorry – I know how hard you worked on it.”

  “Thanks. And guess what? Amanda’s sending me home for the rest of the day. Hey, you should come too. We can play hooky together.”

  “It’s a deal. Just give me an hour or so, and I’ll meet you back here. I’ve got a few leads I have to chase up first.” Vicky smiled.

  “Perfect, that will give me a chance to wrap things up as well.”

  2

  Hands full of plastic grocery bags, Tim pushed open the front door to his house with a grunt. The handles were beginning to cut off the circulation to his fingers. He kicked the door shut behind him, walked to the kitchen and set the bags on the counter. His ears still rang from the rowdy laughter and conversation of the station. His house, in contrast, squatted in suburban silence. The warm spring sun had dipped behind the copse of evergreens that huddled behind his house and their cool shade crept across his kitchen floor.

  He pulled a can of Coke from one of the shopping bags, cracked it open, took a sip and leaned back against the counter. His hair, still wet from the shower at the station, dripped a line of cold water down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his T-shirt. He shivered and took another sip.

  He glanced out the window at the trees, then around the empty house. He’d bought it as an investment – part of his plan for the future, back when he thought he had it all worked out. He’d always believed he’d fall in love, settle down and have a family, but it had never happened. Now he was thirty and living all alone in a two-story four-bedroom house in Marietta.

  He’d had a couple of roommates for a while, but that hadn’t worked out, and the thought of trying to find another one made his stomach twist in knots. No, he’d live alone for now. Maybe sell the place and find an apartment closer to the station, something more suited to a bachelor.

  He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. Perhaps because his parents always had such a happy marriage – he’d never been cynical about the institution the way a lot of his friends were. But he’d never found the right person. He dated, less now than he had in the past, but each relationship had ended over some reason he couldn’t remember any longer.

  He put the groceries away and carried his Coke outside to sit on the back deck, a small square affair that jutted out behind the house. The furniture was just an old glass-top table and six worn black chairs, but the view was priceless. He loved the small thicket that ran behind the line of houses on his street. Often he’d see deer in his backyard – they’d dart into the woods when he opened the door.

  He sat in a chair, leaned back and took another sip. Dark shadows lengthened across the yard and a squirrel chattered in a nearby tree.

  “Hey.” He glanced up to see his neighbor Callum seated on his own porch no more than twenty feet away. He raised a glass of tea to Tim.

  Tim nodded back. “How’re you doing?”

  Callum stood and wandered over to where Tim sat. They’d become fast friends and had never bothered to put a fence between their properties. Both were bachelors who enjoyed a quiet life and neither had much patience for neighborhood associations – they’d bonded over their mutual hatred for the “Neighborhood Police,” as they called the association president and secretary.

  Tim pulled out a chair for Callum, and he took it, setting his glass of tea on the table. “I’m good.
A bit sore today.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right – you had that martial arts training day yesterday.” Tim chuckled. “You’re getting too old for it, huh?”

  Callum frowned. “No, it was just more intense than I’m used to. These days I do a lot of sitting in cars surveilling people and get a lot less action than I did in Afghanistan.” Callum, a former Navy SEAL, worked as a private investigator and bodyguard all over Georgia and sometimes even out of state. Tim found his career appealing, but not appealing enough to give up his own as a fireman, though Callum had tried to tempt him more than once.

  Tim chuckled. “Whatever you say, old man.”

  “You’re one to talk. We’re the same age.”

  “I’ll have you know, I carried a woman down eight flights of stairs over my shoulder today.” He grinned and raised his Coke can in salute.

  Callum’s eyebrows arched as he picked up his glass and clinked it against Tim’s can. “Hey, now that’s something worth toasting.” He laughed. “Was that purely for fun or was she actually hurt?”

  Tim chuckled. “Purely for fun.”

  Callum’s eyes widened and he guffawed. “Oh man, I would’ve loved to see that.”

  “Yeah, she wasn’t too happy with me.” He scratched his chin and grinned. “But she wouldn’t evacuate, so …”

  “You have the best job, dude. No wonder you won’t join me – though I could definitely make it worth your while if you’d consider it …” Callum shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. I’ve got more work than I can handle and I really should hire someone. Trouble is, I don’t want to work with just anyone – it’s got to be someone suited to the job, who I like …”

  Tim chuckled. “So that narrows down the field, since you don’t really like anyone …”

  “I resemble that remark.” Callum winked as he took another gulp of tea.

  “What did you work on today?” asked Tim, stifling a yawn with his fist.

  “A wife wanting to know if her husband is cheating. I swear, cheating spouses are half my income.” Callum shifted in his seat to face Tim. “You know what? We should go out.”

  “Out? I’m tired – it was a long day.” Almost two days, actually – thirty hours straight.

  “Yeah, but you’re always tired. So am I. If we wait until we feel like it, we’ll never go anywhere. And it’s time both of us had a little fun.”

  Tim chewed the inside of his cheek. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, normally I’d say let’s go rock-climbing or skeet shooting or something. But the house is feeling a bit empty today for some reason …”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” added Tim with a wistful glance over his shoulder.

  “So let’s go somewhere different — where there are people. Socialize. That kind of thing.”

  Tim frowned and rubbed his face. “Really?”

  “Yeah. How are we ever going to meet anyone sitting side by side on our back porches? How long has it been since you dated?”

  “I don’t know …”

  “At least a year.”

  “Aw, it can’t have been that long.” Tim knew it was.

  “Right. And even when you did date, you never stuck with it longer than a month. Are you aiming for lifelong celibacy? Because I’m pretty sure there’s a monastery out past Conyers you could join.”

  Tim cocked his head to one side. “You’re freaking hilarious, dude.”

  “I mean it. You’re absolutely hopeless.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I bet if you met a woman today and asked her out, within a month you’d forget her name.”

  Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You have no faith in me whatsoever. I’m not that much of a jerk.”

  “No, you’re not a jerk. You just have commitment issues.”

  Tim cocked an eyebrow. “Fine. Care to put money on it?”

  Callum chuckled. “I’m totally in – easiest money I’ll ever make.”

  “Fine. Let’s say fifty bucks.”

  Callum threw back his head and laughed. “That’s no incentive! Make it real and I’ll hold you to it. More like five hundred.”

  “Five hundred dollars?”

  “What’s wrong? Don’t think you can go the distance?”

  Tim combed his fingers through his hair. This was ridiculous. His family had money, but he lived on his salary. He’d never touched his trust fund as a matter of principle – he wanted to show his parents he could make it on his own. So he was careful about the money he spent, and five hundred dollars could pay a lot of bills. Still, something about Callum’s cocky smile provoked him. “All right. I’m in. Five hundred says I stay in a relationship with the next woman I meet, and am interested enough in to ask out, for more than one month.”

  Callum offered his hand. “Done.”

  Tim shook it and laughed, but his stomach twisted with nerves. “Shoot. Now I just have to meet someone. How hard can it be, right?”

  “Come on – we can head downtown and find a bar or something.”

  “No nightclubs,” added Tim, “That’s where I draw the line.”

  “Not a dance music kinda guy, huh?” teased Callum, punching Tim in the arm.

  Tim almost fell off his chair, then turned around and punched Callum right back.

  “Hey, ouch!” cried Callum, jumping to his feet. “You’re getting better at that.”

  Tim grinned. “I’ve been blowing off steam at the boxing gym, and we installed a heavy bag at the station.”

  Callum rubbed his shoulder gingerly. “Well, it’s paying off. Now I’ll have to put one up at home to keep up with you.”

  “You can try,” chuckled Tim, dancing out of the way as Callum lunged for him again.

  When they’d finally had enough roughhousing and were puffing hard, their hands on their hips, Tim frowned. “I really don’t feel like dealing with a bar. How about something a bit more active?”

  Callum nodded. “There’s a bowling alley in North Druid Hills – they have two-dollar tacos.”

  Tim chuckled again. “Perfect.”

  Molly watched Vicky step off the elevator, grimacing and lifting one foot higher than the other as she went. “What are you doing?” she giggled.

  “I got gum on my shoe.” Vicky shook her foot and took another step, her eyes wide with horror – no doubt thinking about where the gum had been. Vicky was a bit of a germaphobe, though she always denied it. She wiped it clean on the edge of the landing, grimacing all the while.

  Molly bit her lip and unlocked their apartment door. They shared a place in midtown Atlanta. It was small but comfortable, and they were happy together … most of the time. “I had a bad day too. You were out running down those leads on the robbery, so I didn’t get a chance to tell you …”

  “What happened?”

  “You know that article I was writing – where I missed the deadline because of that gas leak? Well, we were scooped by the Chron. Again. I didn’t think they’d run it today, I was waiting for it to come out tomorrow — hoping it wouldn’t, but fairly sure it would. You know how they’re all digital now? Well, they published it online half an hour ago, just before you got back to the office. How can I compete with that? So Amanda won’t print it, because it’s officially old news.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mol. I know how hard you worked on it.”

  “Thanks,” grunted Molly, still feeling sorry for herself over the whole debacle. She pushed the apartment door open with her shoulder – and covered her mouth with a gasp. Fluffy white feathers floated down slowly from the ceiling. They covered the carpet, the couch, the coffee table, the kitchen counter and even balanced on the fan blades overhead.

  A large golden Lab rushed them, her tail wagging furiously. Molly caught her with both hands, her heart in her throat. “Daisy! What have you done?”

  Vicky pushed past her through the doorway, her eyes wide. “My goose-down comforter!”

  Molly grimaced. The comforter had most likely suffered th
e same fate as the beanbag, her second-favorite pair of pumps, and the throw she’d made the mistake of draping over the end of her bed. Daisy had devoured them all. “Naughty dog!” she scolded, holding her by the collar.

  Vicky hurried to her bedroom door, covering her mouth as she surveyed the damage.

  “How bad is it?” asked Molly. She didn’t really want to know. It was one thing for Daisy to chew up her things, but she hated it when her pooch destroyed her roommate’s stuff.

  Vicky’s hands slid up over her eyes, then down, pulling the skin until she looked as though her face was melting. “Total destruction,” she whispered.

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Vick. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  Her friend nodded. “Thank you. Don’t worry – I’ll be fine. I think I just need to sit down for a minute and maybe have a drink. I feel a little light-headed.”

  “Of course. I’ll get you something.” Molly looked at Daisy, whose tail twitched beneath her rump against the carpet, belying her big-eyed attempt to look sorry. “You stay here! You’ve been a bad dog.”

  Daisy’s head dropped to rest on top of her paws, her tail still.

  Vicky slumped onto the couch with a sigh. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s still just a puppy. We knew when you bought her she was likely to be a menace, given her breeding. It’s my own fault for buying such a nice comforter … oh well, I’m sure a polyester one will be just as good.”

  Molly pulled a bottle of Coke from the fridge and set it on the counter while she searched for two clean glasses. “No, it definitely won’t. I’ll get you another goose-down one.”

  Vicky leaned back on the couch and rested her arm across her forehead. “Did you ever think you’d be thirty-five and still living with me and a delinquent dog?” she sighed.

  Molly brought her a glass of Coke with ice and set her own on the coffee table. She sat in the armchair across from Vicky and crossed her legs. “What do you mean? I’m only thirty-two – thirty-five is a long way off.”