Prologue

Mentally hearing words from an unseen source when I write fiction is not unusual. My characters develop voices of their own and sometimes take over the dialog beyond what I had intended.

It’s not unusual in my fiction writing, but I was writing a blog about a devastating real-life event.

. Anger had my fingers trembling as I blogged about the breakup of a relationship I thought was leading to the altar. 

"I'm sorry, you just aren't my soulmate." Todd wrote in his breakup text. 

What kind of stupid breakup excuse was that? Soulmates. Baloney. It was a lame and cowardly excuse.

She, the ethereal entity invaded my thoughts.

You don’t believe in soulmates? 

I tried to ignore her words trickling into my consciousness as I hammered the computer keys, tears no longer falling as they had the past few weeks. I finally accepted the end; at least, I thought I had until I started the blog post. No longer heartbroken, I was now filled with anger. 

She kept breaking into my thoughts blocking words I was trying to write. The mental voice I sensed was relentless. 

I wanted nothing to do with her. She was demanding. She wanted to tell her story. I wanted to write what I had to say, uninterrupted by a storyteller who had gone beyond this life. Her life was over. Why was she determined to force her aura onto my awareness? 

I temporarily gave up writing to escape her but frequently during my day, her persistent ethereal voice distracted me from my daily routine tempting me to come back to writing.

I didn't like it. Even now I do not understand why I am letting her tell her story through me. Perhaps it is to escape her demands and the hope she will leave me alone. 

Perhaps it is my curious mind wanting to hear more about soulmates and past lives/

This is her story. I write it as I hear her words flowing rapidly in my mind.

Chapter Seven

 

Chapter Seven

 Irene

Entering the quaint cafe, a traditional French Bistro, I was unnerved to see a recent familiar face at a table. It was the uniformed driver that had been holding a sign with my name at Heathrow. I stiffened and forced my body to relax as we followed the maître de to a table by the window.

"What's going on?" Phil leaned across the table.

"Don't look now, please. Do you remember me telling you about the uniformed driver waiting for me at Heathrow?" Smiling as if everything was normal, I picked up the menu.

"He's here?" Phil lowered his head, looking at his menu.

"Yes." I did everything I could to keep from looking at the man sitting two tables from us. Hoping he did not see my recognition or my sudden nervousness.

The server came back to our table, blocking my view of the driver. I ordered an espresso and an éclair. Phil selected a Pie d'Anglos wrap and a bottle of Asda Beaujolais. I thought about my nerves at the moment and canceled the espresso, opting for a decaf. 

Phil reached across the table, patted my hand. Excusing himself, he stood, and as far as I could tell, walked past the man I had recognized without looking down at him. I turned, looking out the window, and was completely taken aback when I saw Karin and the Gordons getting out of a taxi.

Phil returned as the drinks and food were being placed on the table.

"I have another surprise for you," I smiled, turning back to the window.

"Uh Uh. What now?" He opened his white linen napkin, shook it slightly, and placed it on his lap. 

"Three of the people who had been on my tour in London just arrived." I stirred the decaf. 

"Did you have a problem with them?" He asked, doing the wine and smell taste as the server poured a bit of wine into the glass.

I realized Phil had no contact with them in London. He had left the Hotel before I joined the group. I stopped myself from telling him I knew Karin from SIP.   Still unsure about him or the whole scenario, I needed desperately to contact Mike.

"My turn to head for the loo," I smiled at him, took another sip of the decaf, stood, and headed for the Restroom area without looking at the so-called driver. It was hard to ignore him.

Inside the lady's room, I text Mike that I needed to speak with him ASAP. I used the facility, went to the sink, washed my hands, and was drying them when my cell phone rang. Going back into the stall, I pushed the talk button.

"Mike?"

"You a problem, Irene?"

"I might have."   I quickly told him about the chauffeur from London, Karin, and even the Gordon, though there was no reason I could think of to suspect them.

"I'll get back to you."   Click. He hung up.

Leaving the restroom, I saw the mysterious driver exiting the Bistro just as Karin and the Gordons came through the entrance. Did I see Karin flash a familiar look at the driver? My suspicion, my nerves, and my intuition were grappling creating a fear that was beginning to become stronger than I wanted. 

I was in Paris with people I did not trust. I knew if I was to carry on as planned, I needed to attend the scheduled art class the next morning. 

As I approached the table, Karin came quickly to me. Embracing me like an old friend, she whispered. "Irene, be careful."  Then she called Megan and Jeff, the Gordons. "Look who I found."

Megan also hugged me. "Darling, we all thought you went back to the U.S. for a family matter."

"It was taken care of so I decided to take the Art Class as planned." 

I looked at Phil and was unsure what to do. Introduce him, pretend I didn't know him, or what?

He took over quickly. 

"I met Ms. Devlin in London and was surprised to find her here in Paris. We are having a bite to eat. Would you care to join us? I'm Alex Michaels."

Oh my lord! Alex Michaels? Where did that come from and why? I wondered.

"Thank you, Mr. Michaels," Jeff extended his hand. I'm Jeff Gordon. This is my wife Megan. We met Mrs. Devlin in London. We were on tour together."

Expecting Mike to call me at any moment, I excused myself, telling them I had to check on my stolen luggage and see if the Desk Clerk found a room for me.

"You don't have a room?" Karin asked. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Devlin had canceled her room when she thought she was going home. She forgot to rebook it."   Phil, or Alex, whatever, was a fast thinker. "I have a double room, Irene. You can share it with me."   Karin offered.

It was tempting, very tempting. "Thank you, Karin. Let me check at the desk."

Phil bid them goodnight. Following me to the lobby, he said, "Sorry about the name switch."

I reached the desk before he could continue if he planned to continue and explain.

"Madam, your luggage has not been found however a room has been canceled a few minutes ago. A housekeeper is preparing it for you. I need your credit card and passport, s'il vous plaît."

"I'll escort you to your room."   Phil offered.

Taking the key card from the clerk, I turned to him. "Phil, or whoever you are, I prefer to go to my room alone. Goodnight."

"Irene wait. I have something to tell you."

I turned slowly. "Mr. Grant or Michaels, or whatever your name is, I have had enough surprises for one day. I do not care to have another." I hurried to the elevator muttering, "I'm tired. I have no luggage. I just want to go to bed."

 

Phil

My mission in London was completed without a problem. I delivered the information to a contact from Zurich. Where it went from there, I had no idea. Sometimes information went from country to country and back to the States. Subterfuge was paramount. Confuse the opposition. 

Learning that Irene was continuing with her original orders going to Paris and since I had a few days before I needed to return to SIP for a new assignment, I decided to zip over to Paris and keep an eye on her. I wanted to do it for Derek. At least, that's what I told myself.

Flights from Heathrow to Paris were being delayed due to violent rainstorms. I took the Chunnel Euro star high-speed train traveling under the English Channel to France. I knew I would arrive before Irene and be waiting for her at the Hotel Verneuil. My contact at SIP was kind enough to give me that information. He knew I had been assigned to keep an eye on her. He felt she might still be in danger and since I was doing it on my own time, it was not a problem to supply me with where she was staying. Beyond that, he was not able to tell me details of her assignment.

Sitting at a table in a Bistro off the lobby, I could see the entrance. When I saw her hurrying to the front desk with the doorman following, in what appeared to be an adamant conversation, I knew something was amiss. She stood behind a young couple being served by the desk clerk. Watching her tap her foot told me something was very much wrong. I signaled a server to bring my check for the Brandy, signed it, and approached Irene.

Her surprise at seeing me registered confusion on her face. She quickly replaced what might have been some concern with a normal facade. She had been well trained. Derek would be proud of her.

My alarm came when she told me the flight attendant opened the taxi door for her. I knew he sometimes used the name, Eric. I didn't know if that was his real name or an alias. I knew he was one of our part-time operatives. How he managed to be a flight attendant on our flight from New York and now be in Paris was suspect. Our physical encounter on the plane was staged. Eric told me a suspicious passenger was sitting near the row where Irene and I were. He concocted the accidental knockdown to give him a chance to be placed in a seat next to the person of interest. What happened after he went down and was placed in the seat is beyond me. Now, I was wondering if he was part of SIP or if I was duped. I was glad Irene agreed to go to the cafe with me.

 

Chapter Six

 

Chapter Six

Irene, Paris

Swallowing the lump forming in my throat as the taxi neared the outskirts of Paris, I tried to stop the memories of our honeymoon. It had been the most romantic time of my life. Not just the sex, that was pretty great, but holding hands everywhere we went, unexpected kisses in a cafe, and the moonlight walks along with the Left Bank. It was romantically wonderful.

The driver was quiet during the 45-minute drive, letting me delve into my memories. I wished he would say something. I didn’t want to have other memories of days spent alone while Derek was taking care of business. Of course, I thought it was the export/import business. Since learning of his real job, I wondered how many times our trips abroad were for SIP. Another reoccurring unwelcome thought was wondering if he had married me because of my recall ability, plus traveling with a new bride was a good cover.

There were several occasions when we were out somewhere he asked me if I recognized anyone in the area. When I asked why he wanted to know, he smiled sweetly and said, “I just like seeing you use your powers.”

‘Use your powers’. When we were in Tokyo, he asked me several times if I recognized anyone. I thought it was odd. I never put two and two together. I told him a young man sitting two tables away from us in the Sushi Bar had been in our hotel lobby that morning, and also was at the nightclub we had been to the night before. 

Derek became agitated, suddenly on edge. He quickly called for our check, put more than necessary money on the table, and hurried me out. The one thing I thought was strange at that time was he always paid our expenses with a credit card. Never cash. We left Tokyo later that evening, two days before we had planned to leave.

As the cab approached downtown Paris and my hotel, more thoughts of odd behavior clamored for my attention. In Rio, he disappeared for three days, on company business he told me. He cautioned me to stay close to the hotel and not venture out on my own.“Take a tour, get to know other Americans in the hotel, and have dinner with them”.

I thought he was being considerate and didn’t want me to be alone while he was gone. Now, my thoughts were different. Had Derek been using me? Was I being used now? Was SIP using me as a diversion, as Derek might have before his death?

I didn’t get a chance to think anymore or use my intuition. We arrived at the hotel.  The doorman seemed to be in a heated argument with a man who was waving his hands wildly. Each time the doorman tried to approach the taxi to open the door for me, his opponent blocked him. The driver had already gone to the trunk to get my luggage. Another man came and opened my door. When I looked up, I saw it was Eric, the flight attendant. I hesitated and then quickly remembered I was to show no surprise that would make an adversary know I was aware of their unwelcome presence.

“Welcome to Paris, Mrs. Devlin.” Eric scanned the area around us as he took my hand to help me out of the car. “I hope you enjoy your art class and have some time to see this lovely city.” He hesitated before adding, “Again.”

He quickly walked away with the gentleman who had been arguing with the doorman. 

“I’m so sorry madam,” the doorman bowed politely and moved to my side.

I assured him it was okay and started to walk into the hotel lobby.

“Madam has no luggage?" He questioned.

I turned toward the driver standing at the car trunk who shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of, I don’t know what happened, then quickly got into the driver’s seat and sped away. Hurrying into the lobby, the doorman followed with a mixture of French and English apologies.

At the front desk, I waited patiently for the people ahead of me to check in. When they left, I told the desk clerk that I needed to report a theft of my luggage. I handed him my I.D. and passport.

He looked at them carefully, typed some words into the computer, glanced around the lobby, and then looked at me. “I’m sorry madam. We do not have a reservation for you. It was canceled two days ago.”

You know that antenna that goes up when I’m suspicious? It was not only up, but waving and rattling. Forcing myself to be calm, I gave him my most pleasing smile. I informed him it was a mistake and I would like a room for several days. “I also want to report my missing luggage.”

There was another shrug from the clerk. “I am sorry, madam, there are no rooms. We are expecting a rather large tourist group to arrive at any moment and all the rooms are filled. It is most unfortunate.”

“Irene! Is there a problem?" It was Phil Grant.

“Caution, caution, caution!” I told myself over and over again as I turned and shook my head.

“Just a slight one, but I think this nice clerk will find a room for me somewhere in the vicinity.” I turned and smiled at the clerk. “However, my luggage is missing and I would be happy if you would call the gendarmes so I can report it.”

Phil moved closer to me, speaking softly. “Do you think that is wise Irene? You will be bringing attention to being here.”

I stepped back from the desk, as did Phil. “I see no reason why I can’t report my suitcase stolen. I have no problem with attracting attention to myself. I’m here to enroll in an art class, which I’ve been planning to do for over a year.” My words were far more clipped than I wanted them to be, but then I hoped I made a point.

He reached for my arm. “I have a suite upstairs. Perhaps we can go there, order some room service. I am sure you are hungry, and I’ll help you find a bed and breakfast.

“Mr. Grant, I have no intention of going anywhere with you at this time.”  I yanked my arm away from him. “And for your information, one of the men involved in stealing my suitcase was the young man you accosted on the airplane. Now if you will excuse me, I need to wait for the Gendarmes and find a hotel, on my own. Thank you very much.” My words and my tone belied the fright I was beginning to feel. I didn’t know whom to trust, and I knew I had to get somewhere alone to put in an SOS to Mike at SIP

“Madam. The Gendarmes will be here shortly. The concierge is trying to find a room for you. You would be more comfortable waiting in the cafe, n’est-ce pas? 

“May I treat you to a glass of wine and perhaps a sandwich?" Phil didn't wait for an answer. Taking my hand, he guided me to a small Bistro cafe. I could see I wasn’t about to lose him. I was still unsure if he was a friend or foe. Better to stay with him until I could get to another hotel. At least in the cafe, I could go to the ladies’ room and text Mike. 

 Chapter Seven

 

It has all the #Hallmark Christmas movie situations. 

City girl goes back home after being laid off.

Old boyfriend is there for the Holidays;

A Christmas street festival;

Recent city boyfriend shows up;

Ahh but, a slightly different ending.

#Hallmark movies rarely have a third party in the romantic situation.

I am back in my hometown having lunch in mom's Christmas decorated kitchen with Claire, my best friend, and confidant since Middle School. I am revealing details about the sudden break up with Jamie, my boyfriend in New York, losing my job when the advertising agency downsized, and coming home for the holidays or maybe for good. I haven’t decided.

We are sipping coffee and devouring mom's fresh out of the oven pecan pie."

"I don't know why I broke up with Jamie. It was a momentary reaction when we argued about going on vacation. It was an unthinking, angry blurt. Before I could apologize and take it back, he hung up and would not answer when I called him."

Expecting sympathy from her, I watch as she adds another heaping spoon of mom’s fluffy whipped cream to her pie. Looking up at me, she says, "Come on Kara, the best way to get over him is to get back out there and have fun." Savoring a bite of the pie, she adds, “Bruce and I are going to Vic's tonight to meet some of the old gang. Come with us."

Before I can say no, she shushes me by mentioning Greg might be there.

Greg, my boyfriend in high school and half of college. I instantly remember the night he proposed, and I said no. Not because I didn't love him, but I had career plans. New York-bound after college and a career in advertising. He planned to move out west, Idaho, or the Dakotas where there was open land to start a ranch or farm or something. He hated city life, I longed for it. He quit college and made the move within days after I turned him down.

"Claire to Kara. Are you here or somewhere else?"

"Sorry. Got into my head for a moment."

"Honey, you're home. Come with us tonight. It will be some of the old gang and a few you haven't met."

"Not tonight," Claire, I’m helping mom finish Christmas baking and decorating."

Claire frowns, pretending to be mad, then a big smile. "If you change your mind, we are meeting at Vic's at about 8. Hope you'll come." A quick hug and she’s out the door leaving a swoosh of cold air behind.

"Is Claire gone? I heard the door close." Mom hustles into the kitchen, glances at me then at the decorated tree in the living room area. "It's one of the best trees ever. "

"Nodding, I get up, stack the plates and coffee mugs into the dishwasher asking when we are going to start baking.

"Tomorrow." She brushes the table crumbs into her hand. "I'm going out tonight with Andy."

Mom and Andy were friends and recently became more than friends. They are both divorced, have known each other for years, and I often encourage mom to marry him.

"Sweetie, why don't you do something tonight? Go out, have fun. It’s the holidays, time for celebrating.”

Shrugging, I give her a quick hug and say I'll think about it. Which I am doing now while having some of mom's leftover spicy pasta salad. The TV is droning on a corner counter as I eat, sip wine, toy with a cold slice of garlic bread, and remember Greg.

He was the typical all-American guy in high school. He played sports, had many friends, got a football scholarship to a small state college where I majored in Communications. He proposed to me in the middle of our Junior year, during the holidays. He quit school and left a few days later.

Now I wonder if turning him down was another one of my unthinking reactions? It must have been. I was devastated when he left, truly heartbroken. I didn't date anyone the rest of college, I just hung out with friends and Claire.

Jumping out of my thoughts of Greg, I am seriously thinking about going back to New York. I love advertising, especially creating commercial videos, and I love the city,

When I left NY, packing up my things was easy. I shared a small furnished apartment with two other gals that I know would welcome me back if they haven't already found someone to rent my room.

About nine mom calls saying she is staying at Andy's. I am thankful she stays at his house and not ours. It would be uncomfortable knowing they were sleeping together in the next room.

I am a job and or career hunting on the Internet when the doorbell rings. I'm not expecting anyone. Then there’s a knock on the door.

"Oh please, don't let it be anything about mom." I silently pray fearing she might have been in an accident. Glancing out the peephole, it is hard to tell who it is other than someone tall.

"Kara! It's Greg. Is it too late to say hi?"

My nervous fear of who might be at the door becomes anxiety when it is Greg. Nervously opening it, I look up into his grinning face and am taken aback by his engaging hug.

"Hope it's not too late to say hey." He releases me. We are staring at each other for a few moments before I motion for him to come in.

"You look great, Kara. I know I should have called first, but I don't have your new number, and I forgot your mom's."

I am still standing by the door trying to think of what to say.

"If it's too late, I can go." He holds up a bottle of wine.

"No, it's not. Come in." Guiding him to the living room, I point to a chair, "I'll get glasses." I am stammering. 

"And a corkscrew." 

In the kitchen, I breathe deeply before slipping glasses from an overhead cabinet. Seeing him unnerved me. I wasn't expecting him, at least not at my door. 

“You still like Pinot Noir?”

Nodding my reply, annoyed with myself for being so nervous, I hand him the wine opener. 

"I didn't mean to surprise you, Kara." Pausing a moment unscrewing the bottle. "It seemed like a good idea when Claire suggested it. I'm sorry."

"I'm fine." I lie."I wasn’t expecting anyone this late. The doorbell ringing startled me and with mom out, I was concerned."

Handing the glass to me, he sits on the couch and grins. “To memories,” he toasts, pausing a moment, “the good memories.”

I smile, raise my glass, remain quiet, glad the shaking has stopped.

"Claire says you may not go back to NY."

"I guess she also told you I lost my job, broke up with my boyfriend, and have no idea what I'm going to do now." I sound bitter. Damn, another unthinking outburst. I am bitter, but it's not his fault.

"Greg, I'm sorry...I’m still adjusting to so much happening. I didn’t mean to be flippant." 

He doesn't let me continue. "It's okay. It's tough when so many negative things happen at once. I know. I've had them happen to me."

"Greg, I am sorry. How are you? Are you home for the holidays?"

Slipping into casual conversation, he thoughtfully tells me ranching didn't work for him. He went back to school, got a Psychology degree, opened a counseling practice in Boise, married, divorced, has no kids, and is not seeing anyone. Fifteen years of his life, just like that. The bottle of wine is empty as he talks. I offer coffee, he accepts, we go to the kitchen. Warm memories surface as I feel him close behind me.

"You sure it's not too late for coffee?" I can tell he isn't in a hurry to leave. I'm not in a hurry for him to leave. It is like old times, only this time two friends not two lovers. 

Elbows propped on the granite-topped island, he tells me about Boise; I give him a brief review of New York as I fill two mugs, 

“You still drink it straight?”

Nodding, wrapping his hands around the steaming mug, he surprises me.

"I almost looked you up when Deb and I stopped for a few days on our honeymoon trip to Europe. She wanted to shop. I thought I could meet you for coffee or a drink. Then I thought maybe it wasn't such a good idea." 

"How long were you married?" 

"Seven years. She was disappointed that ranching wasn't for me, and she didn't want to leave her father's ranch, among other things."

A long pause as I refill his mug nearly spilling it as I watch him get up and saunter around the living room area looking at the pictures on the wall. Is it the broad shoulders? I put down the coffee pot. Continuing to stare at him, I notice the tight butt, his broad shoulders. I quickly reach for the coffee mugs when he takes a picture from the wall and brings it to me.

"This is us. The night before graduation, right?"

I blush, remembering it was more than the night before graduation. It was the first time we made love.

The way he looks at me, I know he is remembering too. Abruptly he turns, hangs the picture back on the wall, takes his time straightening it, not turning he says softly, "I think I better go. It's pretty late."

I feel the tension building. Finally turning, he smiles, a smile I remember so well when it used to make my heart dance.

"It was good seeing you again, Kara. Maybe I'll run into you before I go back to Boise. You look great."

That's it! Before I have a chance to come around the island and walk him to the door, he is gone. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed that he didn’t suggest we get together or relieved.

///////////////////////////

In the bedroom, I search for my phone. It's in the bathroom where I'd left it earlier when I showered. I turn it over to check messages. There are two, both from Jamie. 

I met Jamie two years ago when he came to our advertising firm to hire us to do an ad campaign for his online clothes store, 'The Complete Business Woman'.

We did not hit it off in the beginning when I was assigned his account. It was my first solo account. I was ecstatic to finally go from copywriter to assistant producer, to producer. I would handle all the details from creating the ad, programming the script, selecting a video company, and the director. Jamie was not happy when he learned it was my first account. I shouldn't have mentioned it to him. Another one of my unthinking blurts.

Stomping into Hal Arnold, the agency manager’s office, he demanded his account be assigned to someone with more experience. Hal assured him I was well experienced, had fashion sense and style, and perfectly handled his account. He resisted until he was told I was the only one available on short notice since he wanted a pre-holiday campaign and other ad reps were already tied up.

We clashed on just about everything from ad theme to script, to which video company to use, and director to hire. I knew exactly who I wanted to direct, Josh Campbell. I'd worked with him on other shoots when I was an assistant producer. He is a forceful energy who never wastes time, and not bad to look at or be around.

On the set, he was all about work and getting the job done right. Those who worked with him were the best in the industry. Quiet and shy when not directing, I often found a reason to talk with him about work, hoping to get to know him better. I liked the way he treated everyone on the set from lighting guys to camera techs. He was firm and well respected.

Sometimes we shared coffee breaks and talked about doing more videos together. He had a way of making me feel special and that he liked how we worked together. Once I thought he was going to ask me out. He mentioned going to a gallery opening. Just when I thought he was going to invite me, a prop dropped on the set. He was off to get it fixed. When the break was over, we went back to being work associates.

Getting him to direct Jamie's account was an asset. He convinced Jamie I was well qualified. We took him to lunch to go over the ad theme and script. I learned later that when I left the table to take a call, he assured Jamie I was good, and he highly recommended me.

Our video theme was the end of Fall and into holiday styles. His line of clothes was good at any time of the year. I had to convince him it needed holiday accessories and colors.

It was when we were choosing the accessories for various outfits that we mellowed into an easier-going relationship. He became a completely different person. His brown eyes softening, and h displayed a captivating smile when we found the perfect necklace or bracelet for an outfit.

“Josh was right,” he said one day touching my shoulder, “you have good fashion sense and style.” Pausing a moment he added, “I also think he is interested in you as more than a coworker.”

I may have blushed. Hoping it might be true and disappointed when it didn't seem to be, I gave up the idea of being more than an accounts manager to Josh.

In time, Jamie and I began to relax more with each other. Before we finished his account, our eyes locked into one of those 'boy meets girl and connect’ stares. My heart fluttered. His might have too. I sensed intense energy between us. I had no hesitancy when he suggested we go to dinner.

Being together working on the video and going out a few nights a week led to romance, commitment, and talk of a future together. That was until my outburst, our break-up, and his refusal to get back to me when I tried to apologize.

Now he is calling, texting, and emailing wanting me to come back to NY. I sense he is hinting at getting back together. I am wavering, unsure, and then there is Greg. Am I feeling something or just remembering a feeling. 

///////////////////////

Tossing another outfit on the piling heap on my bed, I am sure I lost what was supposed to be my sense of style. Nothing looks good on me. I am frustrated and nervous about going to dinner with Greg. We met accidentally on Main street yesterday. He invited me to dinner, Without hesitation, I said yes. That warm, romantic feeling scurrying from my toes to earlobes. 

Taking deep breaths, calming myself, or trying to, I'm thinking it's stupid to be nervous. It is just two old friends going to dinner. After the holidays, he goes back to Boise, I'll know by then if I am going back to New York.

I grab black wool pants I'd tossed on the bed, pull a scooped neck red jersey off a hanger, and slip on a short black blazer. Now for shoes.

Was that the doorbell? He's a half-hour early. Greg was never early, more than likely late. Grabbing a pair of black dress boots, I dash to the stairs and take a deep breath. I am caught totally by surprise when I turn to the living area to greet Greg and Jamie is talking to mom.

“Surprise!” Embracing me he holds me a bit tighter and longer than a greeting hug, whispering in my ear, “I've missed you.”

“You didn't tell me Jamie was coming.”

“I didn't know, Mom. I'm as surprised as you are.”

There's a knock at the door, then it opens and Greg comes in like he did when we were a couple. He's holding a bouquet. Stopping abruptly as he walks towards us, a surprise and questioning look in his eyes, he presents the flowers to Mom. “These are for you, Mrs. M.”

Thanking him, she suddenly reaches around his neck, hugging him “Welcome home, Greg. We've missed you.”

Noticing my statue-like stance and probably gaping mouth, she points to Jamie.

"Greg, this is Kara's coworker friend from NY, Jamie...I'm sorry Jamie, I don't know your last name."

"Clayton," Jamie nods to Greg, holds out his hand, "Kara was in charge of my commercial account."

"Greg McLish. Kara and I go way back to high school."

Awkward can't describe the stiff tension. I suddenly come out of my stupor. "We were school friends." I want to smack myself, hide somewhere, get out of the uncomfortable situation. Both men are hiding the truth of their relationships with me.

"Kara and I are going to dinner to catch up on what's happened these past 15 years."

"I flew in to surprise her for the holidays." Jamie pauses, "I thought we'd go over some details for my next campaign."

"Kara, I thought you weren't going back to NY." Mom blurts. I know where my unthinking comments come from.

"You aren't coming back?"

Jamie and Greg, along with mom are waiting for my answer.

"I haven't decided for sure, Mom. I'm still thinking about it." How am I going to get out of this mess? How did I get into this mess?

"Why don't you and Greg run along," Mom nods toward the door. "I can fix something for Jamie and me. “You will stay?" She turns to him, "I insist. Now you two go, catch up on your lives before Greg goes back to Boise." She is attempting to ease the situation.

"Are you sure Mrs. M?” Jamie asks. "Tell you what, why don't I take you to dinner. I'm sure you have a favorite restaurant."

Of course, it happens, it's inevitable, the powers that be are not with me tonight. Greg insists we all go to dinner together, refusing to take no for an answer.

I cringe, sit on the couch to slip on my boots as mom gets our coats. I can tell what she is thinking. How did Kara let this happen?

/////////////////////

"I am guessing he is more than a co-worker from New York." Greg breaks the uncomfortable silence in the car. He is driving. Mom is with Jamie in his rental. She asked him to drive saying she may need to leave early. She knows it is not a good idea for all of us to ride in one car.

"Kara," Greg glances at me. "I saw the way he looks at you. Besides, why would a co-worker fly all the way here at Christmas just to discuss future ads?"

I'm hesitating, unsure of how to respond. Do I tell Greg about my relationship with Jamie, my former relationship? Do I tell him he is the boyfriend I broke up with?

“Hey, you can tell me. We're old friends, remember?”

“We broke up a couple of weeks ago.” I finally decide what to say.

Greg stops at a light, turns towards me. “If you broke up, why is he here?”

I silently point to the light. It is green.

He turns back to the street. “I get it. He wants to get back together.

A momentary pause. “Is he staying with you?” Another pause. “Sorry. That's none of my business.”

“No. He isn't staying with me. I didn't know he was coming. He just showed up before you got there.”

Greg stops the car in front of 'Bonne Nourriture', a French-style popular restaurant on the north side of town. The valet opens my door. Before I can get out, Greg takes my hand. “Kara. I hope it works out for you.” He lets go of my hand and opens his door. “Whatever it is you want.”

I let the valet help me out. Mom is standing by my car door. I glance at Jamie's rental. He is handing a key to another valet. Greg holds his arm out to mom. They start towards the beveled double doors. Jamie puts his hand on my back guiding me behind them and says.

“Greg's the guy you almost married isn't he?"

Inside massive flower arrangements, dimly lit chandeliers, and several roaring fireplaces combine to produce romance. Jamie helps me take off my coat, lightly brushing my neck with his finger. It sends shivers down my back.

Greg is talking with the hostess. The reservation is for two not four. Glancing around the room, I see only couples at small white linen-covered tables.

Turning to us, Greg says it will be a few moments for our table. Is I see two servers undoing two tables back near the kitchen, pushing them together, and resetting them.

“It's a lovely place, isn't it, Kara? Your dad and I came here once for an Anniversary dinner.”

“It reminds me of La Grenouille in New York. Kara. Remember when we had dinner there last Valentine's Day?” Jamie touches my shoulder. 

I nod. Of course, I remember. It was one of the most beautifully romantic restaurants I ever saw or could even imagine.

“Remember the owner telling us he named it after his wife, his little frog? Turning to mom and Greg, he explains 'La Grenouille' means frog. “Kara and I thought it was a very sweet sentiment.”

Thankfully we are guided to the table, Greg grimaces. “Sorry, it is so close to the kitchen. It's the only space available.”

“Hey.” Jamie touches Greg's shoulder. “Would it be better if we split up? Mrs.M and I can sit at another table.”

“Call me Marie,” Mom tells him as Greg insists we sit together.

“A wine list, please,” Greg tells the server. “Jamie, would you like to choose?”

“I usually like to wait until I order to choose wine.” Mom picks up the menu.

“How about pre-dinner cocktails? Marie, are you a Manhattan drinker like Kara?” Jamie winks at me.

“I thought you were a Scotch Old Fashioned gal.” 

 I smile at Greg. He turned me onto Scotch Old Fashioned drinks when we spent a week on a Caribbean cruise during college Spring Break. 

Waiting for our cocktails, we are quietly looking at the menus. Finally, we order. I pick up the breadbasket, take a roll, pass the basket to mom as the server fills our crystal water goblets.

"So, are you going to be here for Christmas?" Greg asks Jamie.

"Not sure."

"No family back in New York?"

"No, my parents are in Europe for three months."

"Greg, will you be staying or going back to Boise?" Mom spreads butter on a piece of roll.

“I plan to be here through the New Year.” Greg looks from Mom to me. “Remember the New Year's Eve party we went to before I left for Boise?”

I shake my head. Why? Why did I shake my head? I remember it so well. It was the night I didn't accept his proposal.

I am becoming annoyed. They are playing a game. No longer avoiding talking about their relationships with me, they are now sparring, a 'do you remember jab' here and there. Thankfully our food arrives. I will get through this.

Mom knows what is happening. She changes the subject. “I heard on this evening's news a snowstorm is heading this way. Should hit this weekend.”

“That's not good. It could spoil the pre-Christmas weekend festival.” Greg says.

“I haven't been to a Christmas festival since I left my hometown and went to New York.”

Mom looks at Jamie. “Where are you from?”

And small talk ensues as we go from Christmas Festival to the news of the week. A difference of political opinions changes that subject to Jamie mentioning he would like to talk with me tomorrow about producing his Spring fashion video.

I hear music coming from a room adjacent to the dining area. A combo is starting to play and some of the couples at other tables go there.

Looking at Jamie, mom says.“I hate to break this up, but I feel I need to go home.”

“No problem.” Jamie folds his napkin, places it on the table.

Before he stands, Greg says, “I'll be happy to take you, Mrs. M. Okay if I have one dance with Kara before we go....for old time's sake?”

Jamie and Greg stand as I get up, hesitant at first until Greg reaches for my hand. On the dance floor, he holds me loosely. “Deb called earlier today.”

"Deb?”

“My ex-wife. She wants to know when I'm coming home.”

“Home?”

"Back to Boise. To her dad's ranch where we lived. I think she wants to try again.”

“Do you?”

“No. I don't but...”

“But what?” I'm not sure what I want to hear as his answer.

He pulls me closer, his cheek against mine, his arms tightening.

“It depends.” He whispers hoarsely.

“Depends on what?” I murmur.

“On what happens here.” Pulling me tighter against him, I feel his heart beating as mine joins the rhythm. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Kara”.

He suddenly releases me, quickly turns and I watch him walk back to the table, help mom out of her chair, and nods to Jamie.

I’m speechless on the dance floor. Not sure how I’m feeling, just aware that long-hidden thoughts and feelings are surfacing.

“Would you like to dance or just stand here swaying to the music?” Jamie is smiling. Not waiting for me to get out of my stupor, he wraps his arms around my waist and begins slowly moving me from side to side. It's like it was in New York, we fit perfectly together, at least on the dance floor.

////////////////////////

Claire wakes me with bagels and a steaming take-out cup of black coffee. Groggily I stare at her sitting yoga-style on the bottom of my bed.

“Wake up. I’ve got to hear about last night.” She hands me a napkin wrapped sesame seed bagel oozing with melted butter. “I called Greg this morning. He was groggier than you but mumbled you all went to dinner together. I didn’t know your NY ex-was here.”

I lay the napkin-wrapped bagel on the night table, blow on the coffee, sip, blow again. It’s hotter than hell.

“Kara! Details!”

“Give me a minute.” I dash to the bathroom. Before going back to Claire, I wash my hands, splash water on my face, and rinse my mouth. I crawl back into bed, stack every pillow I can find behind my back, and inhale the coffee steam.

“You’re stalling. I want step by step, moment by moment details. Your mom didn’t say much when she let me in other than the restaurant is lovely.”

I tell her how Jamie surprised me. The awkwardness when Greg insisted we all go to dinner. I even mention my annoyance at their sparring with 'remember this, remember that’. I grab the bagel, take a big bite to give myself time to put my thoughts together.

“And..go on.”

I swallow and start to take another bite. She grabs the bagel from me.

“Details, Kara.”

I’m still unsure what I think about what happened. I tell her about dancing with Greg and how Jamie wrapped his arms around me on the dance floor.”

“Oh good heavens. First, you have no boyfriend and now you have two.”

“Exes, Claire. Ex-boyfriends.”

“So Greg tells you he still loves you, and Jamie came all this way because he does too. What are you going to do?”

I close my eyes, shake my head, so unsure. Words to an old song on one of my Grandma’s records seep into my mind. “Torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool…” I can’t remember the next lines.

“You look like you are in agony.” Claire stands. “Go shower, get dressed. We can do some Christmas shopping. You can make up your mind later. I’ll go downstairs and chat with your mom. Maybe she can give me better details.”

///////////

Light rain is falling as we slip on the icy sidewalk. Downtown is only minutes away. The stores are beautifully decorated, most for Christmas and some for Hanukkah. Salvation Army volunteers are outside some of the shops. It is a time for giving. I’m wrapped in a big bear hug by a Santa outside Bella’s Boutique. I recognize Pete Sloane, he’s been Santa since I was in high school.

“Home for the holidays?” He asks.

“Maybe for good,” Claire tells him as he hugs her.

“Good to see you both. Merry Christmas.” He goes back to ringing his bell and smiling at everyone passing by.

Inside Bella’s, I find the perfect beige cashmere sweater for mom. Claire holds up a pair of sparkling earrings. We finish shopping and go to Vic’s for lunch. It’s a cafe serving breakfast and lunch during the day and a bar at night.

Once we are sitting, I reach in my purse for my phone. It’s not there. I left it at home. Why do I feel lost without my phone? I’m not addicted to it, am I? I ask Claire to use hers to see if mom needs me to pick up anything.

While she is searching her purse, I look over at the bar just as Jamie spins on the stool, breaks into a big smile, and comes to our table.

“I called you a couple of times earlier.”

“I forgot my phone.”

I introduce him to Claire. She invites him to join us. He goes back to the bar and returns with his meal and coffee. Sitting, he looks at Claire. “Any chance you can talk Kara into coming back to NY?”

“I don’t think I want her to. I’ve missed her and glad she is home.”

Peggy Brandt, our server, puts our Cobb salads on the table.”Vic says it’s on the house and welcome home.”

“Is he in the kitchen?”

She nods. Isn’t he always?”

“I’m going to run back and thank him and get one of his big fatherly hugs.”

He welcomes me with his usual bear hug. He and my dad were close friends.

“You look great, Sweetheart. Are you home for the holidays?”

“I am thinking of staying.”

“I hope you do. He turns back to the burners. "I gotta get back to cooking. You come any time, Kara. You are always welcome.”

I give him another hug and scoot back to Claire and Jamie.

Jamie has finished his burger and is drinking coffee. He and Claire are laughing as if they heard a joke.

“What’s so funny?” I slip back into the chair.

“Jamie was telling me about the time you two got locked out of the video studio and when you tried going in the back door all the alarms went off.”

Squinting at Jamie, I tell him I didn’t think it was funny. Looking over at Claire, I can see she is enjoying Jamie’s company. He is likable, charming, and makes friends easily.

Her phone rings as he starts to tell her about the time we got lost on a hike in Vermont. She picks up the phone, looks at who is calling, and signals she is answering it. She goes outside.

"I like her." Jamie orders more coffee.

"She's great." I eat the last of my salad. For some reason, I'm feeling uncomfortable.

"Kara, can we go somewhere from here? We need to talk."

Claire is back, hands me the phone. “Kara, this is for you. I think you need to take it.”

“Is it Mom?”

Shaking her head she tells me it's Greg and he needs to talk to me.

I take the phone, see Jamie frown, Claire shrugs her shoulders, and I go outside. Greg is standing there, the phone to his ear.

“What.” I click off the phone, slip it into my pocket. “What is so urgent it couldn't wait?” I'm annoyed. I don't know why I'm annoyed.

“My mom asked me to see if you can help her put up her booth for the festival. She says I'm no help decorating and she can't get here until tonight. Her sister had an emergency in Hanover and she is there.”

“That couldn't wait until I finished lunch?”

“The festival starts tomorrow. There are only a couple of hours left to do it, and I just got it put together. Decorating is not one of my talents. Kara, we need you.”

“Let me get my coat and tell Claire what's going on. Maybe she can help.”

“Sorry kiddo, I've got a meeting with a potential buyer at 3:00.” She tells me. Claire is a real estate broker.

“Can I help?” Jamie asks.

I hesitate, he smiles. “I'm not bad with a stapler and hanging wreaths.”

I'm thinking it is not a good idea but can't turn him down. With only a couple of hours to work, I can use the help. I am hoping I won't regret it.

It's hard to do anything when it is so cold. I can't wear my gloves to decorate. The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees since Claire and I left to shop. I can feel the storm mom mentioned is on its way.

Greg greets Jamie with a nod. I am uncomfortable with both of them silently stapling, hanging, and hammering items as I point where I think they should be. I'm glad I let Jamie help but wish there is some way I can ease the tension between him and Greg.

The mistletoe is the last decoration to hang. I hand it to Greg and point to the overhang of the booth.

Looking at Jamie, he smiles, holds it over my head, and I move away. Shrugging his shoulders, he hangs it in the middle where I had pointed. Anyone coming to the booth tomorrow to look at and maybe buy the baked goods will be under it.

Finally, he shakes Jamie's hand, hugs me, and thanks us for the help. Before we walk away, he pulls me to him. Ignoring Jamie, he says, “I'll pick you up about 8:00 for our 'catch up with old times' dinner we didn't have last night.”

I pull away.

“Are you good with that?” He asks.

I nod, smile, and walk away. Beside me, Jamie puts his arm around me, pulling me closer.

Another game between them has begun

///////

Mom has turned the porch light on. Nighttime is slipping in as fast as the storm clouds. Chilling cold is wrapping around us. Jamie's nearness helps a bit, but I can't wait to get into the warmth of the house.

We are standing at the door. Jamie is waiting. I know he expects me to invite him in. I don't because I have to shower and get ready for Greg. Just as I am thanking him for walking me home, mom opens the door.

“Thank goodness you are home, Kara. Hi, Jamie.” Without blinking an eye she pulls us into the house.

“There are storm warnings all over the news. I was getting alarmed, especially since I knew you didn't have your phone with you.”

“Jamie, can you stay for dinner?”

“Mom, I'm going out for dinner.”

“Oh. You and Jamie?”

“No mom, with Greg.”

Awkwardness ensues until Jamie thanks her for the invitation and declines saying he has to get to the hotel and get in touch with the company manager. “My employees are getting anxious about when I'm coming back to NY.”

“Have you decided?”

“No, but I have to pretty soon. The company can't run just on the phone and computer.” Taking my hand, he asks me to meet him for breakfast at Vic's. I agree and tell him goodnight.

He starts toward the door. “Oh, by the way, Josh texted me today wanting to know how to get in touch with you. He said you didn't answer his calls or texts today."

“Josh?” Mom asks.

“He's someone I work with on commercial videos. I should say ‘worked’ with.”

"I'll call him, Jamie. Thanks for letting me know." He touches my cheek lightly and quickly walks out the door. A snap of cold air tinged with snowflakes slips into the room. 

My phone battery has run out. I snap on the charger and plug it in before my shower. I’m trying not to think of anything or anyone as the hot water warms me. I don’t want to go back out into the cold. I shiver thinking about it.

Wrapping myself in a towel and adding a warm robe, I tackle drying my hair. Mom opens the door slightly. I jump and drop the blow dryer when she taps me on the shoulder.

“Greg is downstairs.”

“Oh no. Mom I don’t want to go out in this cold.”

“Not to worry. I have lasagna in the oven, garlic bread thawing, there are salad fixings, and I have some nice red wine. He can join us.”

Before I reply, she closes the door.

Relieved we aren’t going out, I finger fluff my hair, dab on a bit of blush and mascara before slipping into an old pair of wool slacks I find in my closet. I top it with a bulky knit sweater and realize it is a sweater Greg gave me one year for Christmas.

Grabbing my phone, I glance at the screen. One call jumps out at me from all the others, Josh Campbell.

Greg and mom are in the kitchen. He is opening the wine as she takes the lasagna from the oven and slides in the garlic bread.

“Dinner is nearly ready,” Mom says and adds, “I’m going to freshen up.”

Greg puts the wine bottle on the island, stares at me a moment, glides over, and kisses me lightly on the cheek. “You look great, Kara. But then you always do.”

“Thanks.” I get wine glasses from a cupboard and hand them to him. Mom comes back, asks me to get the bread as she carries the lasagna and salad to the dining room table. Greg brings the glasses and wine.

We talk about the weather, the possibility of the festival being canceled, and wonder if the roads will close. Greg asks if I’ve made up my mind about staying in Homewood. I shake my head as an image of Josh flashes through my mind. I am anxious to listen to his voice message.

After dinner mom insists Greg and I go into the living room while she cleans the kitchen. We both offer to help. She is firm about doing it herself.

The rest of the evening drags on as we discuss mundane topics. I am getting anxious for it to be over. That’s when it becomes obvious to me. I am suddenly aware that turning down his proposal because I wanted to go to New York was not the only reason. It was that I wasn’t in love with him enough to consider spending the rest of my life with him.

“I’m heading up to bed.” Mom leans over and kisses me on top of my head. “It was good to see you again Greg, hope you will come by on Christmas Day.”

He stands, hugs her, then turns to me. “I’m going to be going. I think I’d better get back to mom’s before the roads are closed.”

I can tell he knows it too, there is no spark, no bells, and whistles, or flashing lights, only memories of what had been. At the door, he takes my hands, gives them a squeeze, another light kiss on the cheek, and says. “It was good seeing you again, Kara. I hope whatever you decide to do works for you.”

“Thanks, Greg. Be sure to come by Christmas Day and bring your mom if she’s free.”

The wind gushes and the pelting snow flies in when I open the door. He leaves quickly. I shut it, hurry to the kitchen, and get my phone. I hear Josh’s message.

“Kara, I heard about the company downsizing. I’m sorry it meant losing your job. I’m wondering if you would consider working full time for me.” There’s a pause. I think he has hung up. “I think you are good at what you do. We work well together," another pause then, "I like being with you, and I heard Jamie is seeing someone else." He ended the message with, “I hope you call me back with a yes."

I listen to it several times before checking calls that came in while I was downtown. Three from Greg; two from Jamie, and another from Jamie after he went back to the hotel.

“Kara, I am heading to the airport before all flights are canceled. Call me when you get this.”

I speed-dial him.

"Kara, you got my message. I'm about to board the plane."

“I heard the weather might close down flights.” I pause a moment and continue firmly. “ Jamie, I want to know why you came here. What was the real reason?"

"I wanted to talk you into coming back to New York. You are the only one I want working on my ads. I have a brand new line coming out for the Spring season, and, Kara...." I wait for him to continue. "I'm seeing someone. I wanted to tell you in person, not on the phone. She was one of the models in our video."

"I'm happy for you, Jamie.”

“Every time I thought I could tell you, something came up and we were never alone, except for that first night when Greg took your mom home. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to tell you.”

Now I am unsure what to say.

“I was hoping to take you to dinner tonight and tell you, but Greg beat me to it.”

“Jamie, it’s okay. I hope you have a safe flight.”

Putting down the phone, I am feeling relieved. I don’t have to decide between Greg and Jamie. My only decision now is should I call Josh tonight or tomorrow?

Picking up the phone, I speed dial Josh’s number. I hope mom and Claire are okay with me going back to New York after Christmas. How can I turn down doing what I love, in a city I love, and well, then there's Josh? 

The End

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