The Correspondent, page 5
part #1 of Emerson Pass Contemporaries, Book Four Series
I sighed, trying to come up with how to best explain my mother to a woman like Sally Clifton. “She’s mostly a victim of really poor taste in men—letting them move in and be part of her daughter’s life at the drop of a hat.” A bitter laugh escaped from my stomach. “I’ve had a lot of ‘uncles.’” I made air quotes. “She never asked me to call them Dad or refer to them as my stepdad. Only Uncle this and that.” I swallowed, embarrassed. Sally was a good listener, never taking her eyes from me as I spoke.
“It sounds like you’ve both had a hard time,” Sally said. “Not that I’m speaking up for her or anything. However, sometimes when we’re empty, we try to fill up on all the wrong things.”
She knew what I was talking about from personal experience. I could sense it. Had she had a difficult childhood?
“My mother didn’t have boyfriends,” Sally said as if answering my silent question. “She was too busy being unhappily married to my cheating father. They successfully made each other and me miserable for decades.” She said this with no bitterness in her voice. How could that be, I wondered? “I escaped them and never looked back. Much as you have.” She tilted her head toward Garrett. “He saved me, if you want to know the truth. I know we’re not supposed to want to be saved by a man these days, but gender has nothing to do with it. Sometimes it’s the woman who saves the man. Or two people who save each other.”
We were interrupted by Huck approaching.
“Hi, honey,” Sally said, holding out her hands.
He took them briefly, and the tension in his face lessened. “Hey, Mom. Are you having a nice time?”
“I’m getting to know Stormi here. Where have you been hiding her?”
“She’s a work colleague, Mom,” he said tersely. “No one’s hiding anyone.”
“It’s a turn of phrase, honey.” Sally brushed her hands down the sleeves of his blue shirt. Such a loving gesture, I thought. He didn’t know how lucky he was. I could give him an earful.
“Did you need something?” I asked politely.
“No, I wanted to let you know you can skip out of here if you’re done. No reason to hang around. You can take another nap, for example.”
“Good idea,” I said, brightly. He could poke at me all he wanted. Nothing would break my good mood. I was about to be done with him forever.
“We’ll see you at dinner,” Huck said.
“You’ll escort Stormi to dinner.” Sally fixed a steely stare on her son.
“Yes, I’ll come by and get you. Walk you over.” Huck sounded sheepish. I’d never heard him that way before. Sally Clifton was on my good list. This mother in her pink suit had certain expectations about manners, especially when it came to her son. Wouldn’t it have been nice to have one who taught good manners? I’d had to fill all that in for myself.
“That would be nice, thanks,” I said.
“Walk her to her room now, too, please,” Sally said.
Huck met my eyes briefly before nodding. “Sure. You want to go up now?”
“That would be fine,” I said. “I’ve got enough photos of the event.”
“How many?” Huck asked.
This was the kind of thing that really bugged me about my boss. “Enough,” I said.
“How much is enough?” Huck asked as we walked toward the entrance of the ballroom.
“Five million.”
“No need to be sarcastic.” He stopped at the doorway to let me pass into the lobby.
“Why do you have to micromanage me? You know I deliver.”
We were at the elevator bank by then, and he punched the button to take us up. “Why do you have so many problems with authority?”
Never mind, I thought. Let it go. You’re almost done.
I lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug and pulled out my phone, scrolling through photos until we reached our floor, and then strode out of the elevator without saying goodbye.
I spent the hour before dinner uploading the photos from the book event onto my laptop and choosing which ones would be good for the newspaper, adding a few I thought Garrett could use on his website or newsletter. When I was done, I took a bath, enjoying the expensive soaps and endless hot water until it was time to dress for dinner.
Just last week I’d purchased a few new dresses from the sales rack to wear at the gallery. I’d even found several pairs of sandals that would go better with nice dresses than my combat boots. Crystal wanted the gallery to have an elegant, high-end atmosphere. I took that to mean I should, too.
On a whim this morning, I’d tossed one of the new dresses and a new pair of black pumps into my suitcase. The dress was made of a rayon that didn’t wrinkle, making it perfect for travel. I put it on now and smoothed it over my slim hips before slipping my feet into the pumps. Running a comb through my short bob, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dress was conservative for me, in a green material that matched my almond-shaped green eyes. Other than a few freckles on my nose, my creamy skin was clear. I didn’t miss the hormonal breakouts from my teenage years. I rubbed some blush into my cheeks and added mascara and eye shadow. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I appraised my face, wondering what people thought when they looked at me. Did they think I was pretty or plain? My eyes were heavy-lidded, which, according to my mother, made me look permanently stoned. Fortunately, friends were always telling me how pretty they were, and I was starting to hear their voices rather than my mother’s. Progress.
I put on a little lipstick. I had nice full lips. One of my mother’s boyfriends had said they looked like someone had socked me in the mouth. Whatever. My mother or any of her boyfriends were not here. In fact, I’d blocked her from my life, and it had gotten better ever since.
A knock on the door distracted me from my appearance. I hurried to open it, knowing Huck hated to be kept waiting. He was one of the most impatient men I’d ever known.
I swung open the door and there he was, looking more attractive than I’d ever seen him. And let’s face it, that’s saying something. His dark waves of hair had been tamed with gel and his face freshly shaven. He wore a gorgeous plum suit jacket. Most men wouldn’t be able to pull it off but he looked fantastic, especially paired with a white button-down shirt and dark denim jeans. I caught the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with bourbon. He smelled like a Manhattan cocktail, I decided. Over the years I’d served a lot of those. If pressed, I had to admit he smelled good enough to eat. Not that anyone was asking.
“Look at you, on time and dressed like you’re going to church,” Huck said.
“Church?” I asked, offended. What did that even mean? I slipped a finger through one of the loops in the tie around the waist. “This is a new dress, and I like it.” So screw you, I thought. Would it hurt him to say something nice?
“Don’t get me wrong. You look good. I’ve never seen you dressed like that. You surprised me. That’s all.” His dark eyes swept over my body in a way that made me feel as if he didn’t see the dress at all. “Very flattering.”
I flushed hot with irritation. Or was it attraction? No, not that. God help me.
“I thought I better wear a dress. Your mother and those pink suits.”
He actually laughed. “She has about a dozen of them in various shades of pink peonies.”
Pink peonies. Only a writer would be that detailed with his description of all the types of pink in his mother’s color palette.
“She gave me this coat for Christmas.” He tugged at the collar of his jacket. “She likes purple, too.”
“It looks nice on you. Most guys couldn’t pull it off.”
“A compliment, Collins?”
“You gave me one first,” I said, glaring at him.
He barked out a command. “I need to change my shoes. These are killing my feet already. And Mom texted that everyone’s running late. Come on into my room and I’ll pour us a pre-function drink.”
“I can wait here until it’s time to go.” I didn’t like the idea of being alone in his hotel room with him. Which was silly, as we worked together every day. But the idea of being that close to where he’d just bathed and dressed made me way too stimulated. I’d die if he knew how attractive I found him.
“Just come have a drink with me, Collins. I won’t bite you.”
I hesitated for another second before deciding it wasn’t worth the fight. Even I could give in once in a blue moon. “Yeah, okay.”
He stood back to let me pass. The rooms we were staying in had a petite sitting area and desk but couldn’t have been more than three hundred square feet. Feeling awkward and nervous, I headed toward the desk chair and sat.
I took a better look at him. Upon further inspection, he seemed ruffled and upset. I’d last seen him just a few hours ago. Had something happened to agitate him? Or was he simply annoyed that he had to take me to the dinner?
His suitcase was open on top of the luggage container. The cover on his bed was slightly rumpled, telling me he’d been sprawled out on top, probably watching the news. Two empty airplane-sized bottles of bourbon were lined up neatly next to each other on the side table.
Huck followed my gaze. “These celebratory dinners are better attended soused.”
The chair squeaked as I moved positions. “What’s so bad about these dinners?” My heel slipped out of the heel of my black pump. I let it catch at my toes and dangle there. Sexy? Maybe? Did I want him to think so? Never mind, I thought. The drinks had gone to my head.
He grabbed a pair of black leather wing tips from the side pocket of his suitcase and sat on the end of his bed. I sneaked a quick peek at his suitcase. His clothes were folded in perfect squares and held in place with the bag’s interior belts. Who actually used those things? We’d been in a car, not a plane. It wasn’t as though anything would have been shaken around.
“Let me count the ways,” he said. “Lionel, my dad’s agent, will be there. He’s obnoxious and never stops name dropping or ordering more wine on my dad’s tab. I cannot stand him.” He elongated the sentence. Was that how he talked about me to others? “My mother will be all excited and have too much wine and start telling stories of the early days before Dad was published and how she’d waitressed to keep them afloat, and my dad will look at her like they’re in a romance novel and get all weepy and start in on how he couldn’t have done it without her.”
“That sounds nice,” I said under my breath, mesmerized by this happy family description.
He ignored me. “My sister Josie came in for the party, so she’ll be all sulky or ecstatic about a boy, depending. Trapper and Brandi had to cancel at the last minute.”
“Wait. Why?” I’d been counting on sweet Brandi and Tiffany to keep me company.
“The baby has a cold. But Breck and Tiffany will be there. Don’t worry, you’ll still have a friend.” He stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes as if he were angry with them.
“And me, obviously. The life of any party,” I said, and smiled, hoping to lessen the tension between us.
“Is that what you are?” He looked at me for a moment before leaning over his thighs to tie his shoes. Instead of straightening after tying them, he remained bent over, his arms hanging at his sides. A deep breath rippled the back of his shirt.
What was wrong with him? “Um, is everything all right?” I untangled my legs and scooted toward the edge of the chair.
To my utter horror, he lifted his face and there were tears in his eyes. “I just got a call. A buddy of mine from back then—from my time over there—took his life. I got the call about an hour ago.”
I stepped out of my shoes and dropped to my knees in front of him, forgetting our feud or my self-consciousness for a moment. This was a man in pain, and my instinct was to show compassion. “I’m sorry. You must be in shock.”
“He has two kids and a wife.”
The pain in his glittering eyes stabbed me in the chest. “Was he military?” I asked. Back home a lot of the boys I grew up with had joined the military. Poor kids didn’t always have a lot of choices, and the military offered the chance at a promising future. If one was willing to risk their life in some foreign land.
He stared at the carpet just to the right of me and spoke without inflection. “No, Brad was a cameraman. For BNB.”
BNB was one of the big cable news stations. I didn’t watch the news much, but even I knew that one.
My stomach clenched. I sat back on my heels. “That’s terrible. Those poor kids.”
“And Mae. His wife. Afghanistan, the gift that keeps on giving. And what was it for? The Taliban…well, we know what happened when we left, don’t we? What no one seems to get over here is that those were real people with families and dreams. Over here, it’s easy to forget what others are going through. But not me. I remember. So did Brad.”
“And you came home and no one gets it. What it was like and what you experienced. They were all just living their lives, right?”
His eyes narrowed, but the rest of his face seemed to loosen, as if my words had unscrewed the muscles. “That’s right. So I had a few drinks and was hoping to drift away like a speck of dust and still I don’t feel better.”
“Do you want me to call Breck? He’d be good to talk to, wouldn’t he? I could go to dinner with Tiffany. We could make an excuse for you two.” I had no idea what excuse I would give, but I was scrambling to think of a solution for the distraught man before me.
“I texted him, but he didn’t answer. He’s probably having sex with Tiffany. Same with the other two. Damn breeders.”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, this caused me to giggle. I tried to stomp it out, but it rose up anyway. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny.”
“It’s all right.” His mouth formed into a smile that didn’t translate to the rest of his face. “Do you have any bourbon in your refrigerator? I drank all mine. Those bottles are very small.”
I’d had a lot of experience with drunk people during my years of bartending and waitressing. He wasn’t totally pickled, but another drink might send him over the edge. His mother and father would be sad if he weren’t at that dinner. Had he even eaten today? We’d driven straight here. I’d had some nuts and dried fruit in my bag that I’d used as lunch. Girls on a budget always had snacks in their bags.
“How about we head over to the restaurant?” I suggested. “You can have a drink there. After some food, maybe?”
“How sensible of you.”
“You don’t really want to miss the dinner, do you? It’s probably a great family memory waiting to happen.”
“Yeah, and I shouldn’t be rip-roaring drunk for it. Is that what you’re saying?”
I smiled. “Something like that.”
He stared at me for a moment. “You have a pretty mouth. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Usually they’re mentioning what’s coming out of my mouth rather than what it looks like.”
He threw back his head and laughed. A happy thump pounded in my chest. I’d heard him laugh like that a few times, but only when in the company of Breck or Trapper. This time I’d made him laugh, and I liked the feeling a little too much. No matter. I’d shove that thought aside for now. We had a dinner to go to.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s get some food in you. I’m wearing my new shoes and everything.”
“Those are good shoes,” he said flatly. “You’ve got the legs for them.”
Well, now, that was interesting. If I was counting correctly, he’d given me three compliments in a row. That was three more than he’d ever given me in the past.
5
Huck
I offered Stormi my arm as we stepped out of the hotel to cross the street. It was the least I could do. She’d been really cool just now. I was already kicking myself for letting her see me like that. But God help me, the phone call from Brad’s assistant had me on my knees. I hadn’t expected it to be Brad. Maybe some of the others, but not him. He’d always been so optimistic. I’d assumed his outward demeanor meant he was fine. Processing his death would take some time. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to sort through the death of a friend from my war years.
“You going to be all right?” Stormi asked. “For the next few hours, anyway?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“It must seem weird to be going to a celebratory party when you feel like curling up into a ball at the foot of your bed,” Stormi said.
“You say that like you know from your own experience.” I placed my hand on the small of her back as I escorted her inside the restaurant.
“Trust me, I do. I wish I didn’t.” A shadow crossed over her face. “More than once.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I met her gaze for a moment before we were greeted by the host and shown the way to the back room. The restaurant was the quintessential steak house with dark paneling and heavily padded booths. Most of the tables were occupied. Servers dressed in black hustled around the room, delivering trays of drinks and steaming dishes. Piano music was piped in through invisible speakers.
What was it about Stormi that seemed different today? I wondered as we entered the private space where a long table had been set for our dinner. Before this, Stormi and I had not spent much time together outside of the newspaper office. Was I seeing a new side to her? Is that why my dislike of her seemed to be waning? Or was I merely vulnerable and she’d said all the right things? Whatever it was, we seemed to be connecting on a deeper level than I was accustomed to interacting with anyone these days. I didn’t know what that meant. Probably nothing. Other than to emphasize how totally isolated I’d made myself over the last few years. One can be in the company of others and still feel utterly alone.
Everyone was already there by the time we arrived. My dad was at the head of the table with Lionel on one side and my mother on the other. Josie was at the other end of the table talking with Tiffany. As we passed by to say hello first to my parents, I heard something about tulle and roses and figured they were talking about Breck and Tiffany’s upcoming nuptials. Breck was in the corner drinking a soda and talking to Lionel’s wife. As usual, he looked relaxed and ready to take a nap at any moment. We teased him often about his cot in his veterinarian’s office, where he took a nap almost every lunch hour.
