I delivered the first bouquet quickly, then headed toward Apple Creek—a town fifteen minutes south of Mayfair—distracting myself with a mental list of possible movies I could watch when I finished. Pride and Prejudice was always an option, the BBC version, of course. That moment when Mr. Darcy walked out of the lake never failed to make me sigh. Or I could go with something a little older, like The Philadelphia Story or The Shop around the Corner. Definitely not Brief Encounter. I smiled as I thought about Nate Gallagher’s e-mail. I could always pop in Cinderella.
The early evening sun sank lower in the blue sky. The faint scent of burning leaves swirled through the open window of my car as I drove past the sign for Apple Creek. I turned up Orchard Lane, parked in front of the library, and brought in one arrangement at a time to the librarian, a broad-shouldered woman with a long face.
“Oh, these are lovely!” she said, leading me through the library into a back room with four large round tables. She placed one arrangement in the center of each table. “Do you like to read?”
“Yes, I do.” In fact, Rachel believed I read too much. “It’s part of the problem,” she liked to say. I, on the other hand, saw absolutely nothing wrong with getting lost in a great story.
“Then you should join us! It’s a wonderful evening. We talk about our favorite books from the year and put the ones we want to read this next year on the calendar. There are several women your age. We’re a fun bunch.”
“It sounds fun, but I already have plans tonight.” I could practically hear Rachel sighing in my ear. “A date with the television and your cat does not count as plans, Amelia.”
“Well that’s too bad,” the librarian said. “Maybe next time.”
“Yes, next time.”
She thanked me for the beautiful flowers. I thanked her for the business, then headed outside, toward my car, eager to start my date with the television. I could change into my pajamas and pop some popcorn. Maybe even start a fire. The delectable thought put a hop in my step. I was about to open my car door when something nabbed my attention.
It was Bridget, my brother’s girlfriend. In Apple Creek. Strolling up the street. Arm in arm with a man who was not William.
I ducked behind my car, heart pounding inside my chest, and peeked over the roof, positive I’d seen wrong. But there was no mistaking it. Unless Bridget had an identical twin sister, that was definitely her. And unless William dyed his hair brown and grew a few inches, the tall, lanky man whose waist she had her arm around was not my brother. A heavy knot of dread sank through my stomach as the man opened a door to a bar-and-grill eatery and Bridget stepped inside.
I was a pretty nonconfrontational person. But at the moment, I wanted to push up my sleeves and march in after her. In fact, I crouched there for a while imagining the scene. Brave Amelia storming inside the restaurant, giving this woman who was toying with my brother’s heart a serious piece of my mind. The knot of dread pulled tighter. Had she already rejected William’s proposal and moved on to another man? Or worse, had she accepted his proposal while carrying on a clandestine affair? The thought made me sick and at a loss for what to do. Because as much as I wanted to, I wasn’t brave enough to go inside that restaurant.
I needed Rachel’s advice in a desperate way.
I climbed into my car, wishing I could call her. Her last e-mail stated that she didn’t have a cell phone yet. Even if she had one now, I didn’t know her phone number. I squished up my face, trying to figure out her time zone. Seventeen hours ahead. She checked her e-mail in the evening, after her work was finished, which meant hopefully I’d get a phone call by morning. I opened up the e-mail app on my phone and shot her a quick note with trembling fingers.
Subject: SOS, RESPONSE NEEDED ASAP
I need your advice. Is there any way you can call me? Do you get reception where you are? I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night my time. Please tell me you have a phone.
—A
When I arrived home, I checked my e-mail on the off chance Rachel had already responded. No such luck. But there was another e-mail sitting in my inbox, sent earlier in the day.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Mon, Sep 14, 2015 12:06 p.m.
Subject: Re: Brief Encounter
Dear Amelia,
As much as I would love to make you feel better, I have to refuse. I cannot let your insurance bill go up astronomically on account of a small scratch on my bumper. That would most definitely not make you feel better. So in consideration of your future happiness and financial stability, I can’t give you the information you’re asking for. No means no, Amelia. You’re just going to have to accept it.
In response to your postscript question. Yes, I have seen the movie. Several times, in fact. I’m impressed you know it. Not many people watch the old movies anymore. My sister thinks the film is terribly romantic. I think her idea of romance is a little warped. Two married people in post–WWII England falling into a doomed love affair? I can definitely see your point. Perhaps I should have come up with a different subject line.
Now, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There’s a classic movie I can get behind. And before you ask. No, I have no problem forfeiting my man card with that particular admission. It’s a great flick. Audrey Hepburn is adorable.
Best,