“No, we won that bid.”
“Did you argue with Kate?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Linda sat down in her brother’s chair. “Okay, so you had your first blowout with Kate. Big deal. Couples fight. Especially when they spend as much time together as the two of you do.”
“We didn’t have a fight. And I’m not talking to you about this. Did you contact the tile place I asked you to?”
“Yes.”
“Are they able to deliver on the timetable we need?”
“I convinced them it’s possible.”
“Good.” Brock walked over to the trailer’s window. “The crew will have to work overtime if we’re going to get this project completed before the end of the month, in time to start the next one. We should still come in close to budget. And the profit we’ll make from the next job will more than make up for anything we lose by paying overtime.”
“We’ll pull it off, Brock. We always do. We’re getting a lot of press right now, and that’s moving the units, even the ones that aren’t completed yet. The bank is happy. Our investors are happy. You’re the only one who looks miserable today. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I fucked up.”
Linda swiveled in Brock’s chair, one hand on top of his desk. “What happened?”
Brock shook his head. He and his twin sister were close. But they weren’t so close that she knew how he and Kate had actually gotten together. There are some secrets a man shouldn’t tell anyone. The game Brock had played with Kate after he found her letter to Santa Claus was one. A smart man takes that shit to the grave.
“Earth to Brock. Are you still with me?” his sister asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Brock, do you remember when you were twelve and you wet the bed? You were mortified and didn’t want Mom and Dad to know. So you came to me, and I helped you clean it up. I never told anybody.”
“First of all, I was six. And I think I threatened your life if you ever said a word about it.”
“Are you sure? I thought you were older.”
Brock glared at his sister.
She waved her hand and continued, “It doesn’t matter how old you were. What matters is that I have never told anyone. You can trust me. If something is bothering you, tell me. It’s not good to keep things all bottled up.”
“It’s Kate.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Brock continued to frown. “I just said something I shouldn’t have.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “Did you tell her you want to see other people? If so, you’re an idiot. We all like her.”
“No, it was nothing like that.” Brock rubbed one of his temples, hating that his sister knew him so well. “I told her I love her.”
“And?”
“And she told me she wasn’t ready to hear that.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it. She was gone when I woke up this morning. She left me a note saying she had errands to run. I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer.”
“That’s not good. What are you going to do?”
Brock rocked back on his heels. “What can I do? Hallmark doesn’t make cards that say, ‘Sorry I said I love you.’ ”
His sister came around the desk and hugged him. “It’s kind of cute seeing you like this. I’m so used to lecturing you on how not to break someone else’s heart. She’ll come around, Brock. Just give her time.”
He hugged his sister back, then shooed her out of his office so he could return some business calls he’d been putting off. He felt slightly better after talking to his sister. Nothing had changed; Kate simply needed more time.
He had waited his whole life for her.
He could wait a while longer.
Chapter Four
Kate was back at her mother’s house, sorting through boxes of papers her mother had stored in the attic. It was difficult to decide what to keep and what to throw away. Her mother had saved some of Kate’s schoolwork from as far back as kindergarten. Before finding the stashes, Kate would’ve said her mother had not been a particularly sentimental woman. Yet she had kept every card Kate had ever given her, even the ones from when her signature had been nothing more than a scribble.
Do I just throw all of this away?
Do I keep it all to show to my children someday, and leave it here so they can to take one look at them and then dispose of them? I may never have children. I may not be living here six months from now. And then what will I do with all of this crap?
In the corner of the attic, tucked beneath several dusty boxes, Kate found a plastic bin of photos. She and her mother had moved to Rhode Island when Kate was young, but not so young that she couldn’t remember many of the people in the pictures.
There were aunts and uncles, cousins Kate had almost forgotten she had. She found one picture of her mother and father posing with Kate when she was still in diapers. There were no pictures of her father after that. Kate’s own memories of him were few and consisted mostly of him arguing with her mother. She couldn’t remember a time when her parents had lived together.
Since her mother had been unwilling to speak freely of her father, and Kate had never pushed the issue, Kate knew little more about him than that he had signed his name on her birth certificate. Her mother rarely spoke of him or his family, except as a cautionary tale of what she didn’t want for Kate.
Kate sat back on her heels beside the bin. She thought about Brock and his family. She couldn’t imagine them owning a box of photos of people they never spoke to. Brock’s mother was openly affectionate with her children and very close with her siblings. Brock’s father had a large extended family he also kept in touch with. Watching Brock with his family, Kate envied their intimacy.
Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Kate corrected herself. Envy had negative connotations that didn’t apply to her feelings toward Brock’s family. She wanted what they had. She craved their closeness and the loyal way in which they treated one another.
Could she have all that with Brock? Could life be that good?
She remembered a college friend once handing her a crystal ball. She had asked Kate to look into it. The possibility that she might actually see her future had frozen Kate. She’d looked down at the ball helplessly, afraid she wasn’t special enough to be able to see anything, and afraid she’d feel crazy if she actually did see something. So instead of actually opening herself up to the experiment, she’d given herself a headache. Her friend had spouted some mumbo jumbo about fear blocking her psychic potential. Kate had laughed it off at the time. But she’d always had trouble trusting—even herself. A working crystal ball would come in handy now.
As Kate looked through the bin she found a scrapbook she’d made with her mother when they had first moved to Misty Falls and into the large Victorian home in which she lived now. There were pictures of a young Kate unpacking her luggage in a very pink bedroom, sitting on the front steps of the house in a beautiful lavender dress and matching shoes, and practicing piano in the living room dressed in a similar outfit. Kate’s heart went out to the girl who had tried to be brave for her mother, but whose eyes looked sad and scared even in photos where she was smiling. She had forgotten how difficult that first year had been.
A few pages later, there were photos of Kate and Brock watching his father construct a playhouse in Kate’s backyard. Kate was still dressed like she’d just come from a tea party, and Brock looked like he hadn’t bathed in a week. Although Brock’s father had been hired to make some renovations on the main home, he had offered to build the playhouse for them as his way of saying welcome to the town. What Kate remembered most about Brock’s father was how he had designed the miniature home exactly to Kate’s specifications. In a life that had felt out of Kate’s control, the playhouse in her backyard had been Kate’s haven—something designed by her and built just for her.
; Brock’s father may have built it, but he had left the job of painting and decorating it to the kids. Kate wished she had photos of that. She remembered her babysitter being furious with her when she and Brock had engaged in a paint-flinging war. The babysitter knew Kate’s mother wouldn’t have approved, so she scrubbed Kate clean before her mother returned from work.
There were also no photos of Kate in jeans, or running wild with Brock as she had most of that summer. Her mother had filled the album with images of Kate visiting museums, playing violin at a recital, and receiving an award at school.
Anyone looking at the scrapbook would have thought Kate had had a perfect childhood. But she remembered being lonely—especially after that summer. When Brock’s father had finished his work on their home, Brock moved on to work with him on other projects, leaving Kate behind.
She had often hoped that Brock would sneak over to be with her, but he never did. Kate had attended private schools, and her afternoons had been filled with lessons. She hadn’t had many friends at her school or in Misty Falls. By the time they had reached high school, Brock had been a football player never seen in public without some adoring girlfriend at his side. And me? I was Untouchable Kate. Such a joke to the local kids that I pretended they didn’t exist.
I stopped seeing them.
Even Brock.
And stopped wishing for anything but the life my mother had wished for me. Kate replaced the lid on the bin of photos. Ignore what you can’t face. That’s what my mother believed. And I followed in her footsteps. It’s what allowed me to turn a blind eye to blatant evidence that my husband was cheating on me, until it became so obvious I had no choice but to leave.
Now I’m avoiding Brock’s calls because I don’t know what to say. I didn’t come home because I want to recapture the past. I see that now. I came here hoping I could find a way to free myself from it. How to stop being who others want me to be and find myself.
Rising slowly, Kate walked back downstairs. She went into her kitchen and opened the drawer where she kept the phone she had used to communicate with Mr. Elf. She hadn’t opened it since telling him she had chosen Brock. She hadn’t wanted to know if he’d written to her since.
As she held the prepaid phone in her hand, she thought of how she’d found it on her doorstep. She half smiled at the memory of what Mr. Elf had told her to do and how much she had enjoyed doing it. While she’d been following his naughty instructions, Kate had been defying the strict way in which she’d been raised. She’d done what she’d wanted without regard for whether it was right or wrong. Without worry of what others would think of her. She’d felt free during her time with Mr. Elf, until he’d begun to involve Brock too much. Good, honest Brock. What would he think of me if he knew what I did with Mr. Elf? That our relationship started as part of a game I was playing with another man?
Why can’t I tell Brock I love him? Because I feel guilty about the way we got together? If so, I can fix that. Kate opened a cabinet door and held the phone over the trash can. Good-bye, Mr. Elf. Thank you for giving me the push I needed to stop hiding in my house and worrying what everyone thought of me. Thank you for teaching me that sex can be fun, and partners are optional. I may never know who you are, but I won’t keep feeling guilty about having known you. I wouldn’t have Brock if it weren’t for you. You’re not a temptation, Mr. Elf; you’re a confession I need to make. One I hope Brock will understand.
Once that hurdle is removed—I’ll be free.
Free to tell Brock “I love you.”
Because I do.
Kate smiled.
I do love you, Brock. There are so many things I don’t know, but I know that.
Kate dropped the phone into the trash bin and closed the cabinet door. She put on her coat, gathered her keys, and headed out the door. She drove to Brock’s office trailer at his construction site, hoping to catch him before he left for the day. She was knocking on the door of the trailer when his sister came sprinting toward her.
“Kate.”
“Linda, is he here?”
“You just missed him. Call him, he’s probably not that far. He said he was heading home to shower and then over to your place.”
Kate hesitated. On the way over, she had tried to figure out exactly how to explain Mr. Elf to Brock, but she hadn’t yet found the right words. Writing her thoughts out on paper had always helped her express herself better. If Brock was waiting for her back at her house, she needed to figure this out now, before she got back home. She needed him to understand that being with Mr. Elf had opened her up in a way that had made it possible to be with him. What kind of declaration of love involves gratitude to another man? “Linda, do you think it would be okay if I used his office for a few minutes? I just need to write something down.”
“Sure.” Seeing the concerned look in her eyes, Kate knew Brock had already talked to her. “Anything you need. He keeps everything locked up, but I have a key. There are pens inside the top drawer.” Ushering Kate inside, Linda unlocked Brock’s desk. “Sit in his chair. I always do. I’ll stay and file a few things while you write out what you need to. Just tell me when you’re done, and I’ll lock everything up again.”
“Thank you,” Kate said and gingerly sat in Brock’s chair. It was a humble desk for a man who ran a business the size of his. That was one of the many things she admired about him: Brock didn’t put on a show. He was exactly what he appeared to be.
In search of writing instruments, Kate opened the top drawer of his desk. She took out a blank writing pad and a pen. She was just about to close the drawer when she caught a glimpse of something that looked oddly familiar. She pulled the drawer out farther.
There, among pens and pencils, was a cell phone that looked exactly like the one she had thrown in the trash earlier that day. She told herself it meant nothing. Cell phones, even simple models like the one before her, were common.
Kate glanced over to make sure Linda wasn’t watching her. Brock’s sister was busy filing papers, just as she’d said she’d be. Kate turned the phone on.
She felt a little crazy, and more than a little paranoid, when she opened the messages. There was no way this phone could be what she feared it was. The room around her spun as she read its last texts.
Good-bye, Mr. Elf.
Good-bye, Kate.
Kate tossed the phone back in the drawer and slammed it shut.
Linda called out from across the room, “Are you done already?”
Brock has Mr. Elf’s phone? Why? How could he have it, unless—? Furious and still in shock, Kate stood and said coldly, “I’m done, all right. So done.”
Without explaining herself to Linda, Kate walked out of the trailer and back to her car. She sent Brock a text saying she didn’t want to see him that night.
He didn’t respond, which was fine because he was the last person she wanted to see. If Brock was Mr. Elf, that meant everything they had was a lie.
Nothing more than another game.
***
Standing in the middle of his room, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, Brock cursed as he reread the text Kate had just sent him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
If any of his friends had called him for advice on a problem like this one, he would have told them to give the woman space. Dating was a game of chess, where a man had to choose his next move carefully. Contacting a woman after she told you she didn’t want to see you gave her all the power, and often served as a deathblow to the relationship. He’d seen his friends do it a hundred times.
Play by the rules if you want to win. At least that was what he’d believed before he fell in love with Kate. It was different with her. He didn’t want to play games with her. Well, not head games. He tried to ignore the hard-on he got just thinking about some of the role playing they had tried together in the bedroom. Stop that, he chastised his traitorous dick. This is serious.
He paced his bedroom impatiently. He wanted to give her time, but not enough time to move on to another ma
n. Things were a hell of a lot easier when women were chasing me.
He gave in and called her. He couldn’t play cool with this one. Her phone went straight to voice mail, and he cursed for a good five minutes before he threw his phone across the room.
Chapter Five
That bastard.
Kate drove back home, flopping back and forth between wanting to hunt Brock down to tell him off and wanting to hide away from the world and cry. She thought she’d found a good guy, but turns out he was just like her ex: a lying bastard.
I told myself to take time off from men. I knew I wasn’t ready. But what did I do instead? I jumped right into bed with the first guy who paid attention to me.
Instead of stopping at her house, Kate pulled into Angie’s driveway. She paused when she noticed that Mike’s car was in the garage, but she decided she didn’t care if she looked crazy in front of him. She needed a friend, and Angie was the only one she had.
Angie answered the front door with one of the twins straddled on her hip. She took one look at the expression on Kate’s face and called her husband to take the baby. Mike rushed over, still dressed in the charcoal dress pants and ivory shirt he’d worn to work. He was already holding one of his sons; Angie handed him the other. “Mike, I need a few minutes with Kate. Can you feed the boys? There are bottles in the fridge.”
Mike nodded. “Sure. Kate, are you okay?”
Kate hated that her eyes were shiny with tears. “Yes, I just have to ask Angie something. It’ll only take a minute.”
Once they were alone and settled on the couch in the living room, Kate gave up trying to look brave and started to sob. Angie handed her a tissue box and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What happened, Kate? I saw you this morning and everything was fine. Did someone die?”
Kate shook her head and blew her nose. “No.”
“Did you find something while cleaning out your mom’s stuff? I know that makes you sad, but I’ve never seen you like this.”