Eternally Yours (6 page)

With all of this alternating cajoling and jabbing, he was as controlling as Ron, though in a less obvious way. Well, she wouldn’t let either of them compromise her dreams. Maybe she could get a loan to renovate her studio. Today was Saturday, but she had a good mind to apply for a building permit Monday morning as soon as the town offices opened.

Turning away from the door, she swept back through the hall. This time if he looked up as he drove off, he wouldn’t catch her watching, the way he had the day before. She didn’t care enough to watch him go.

When she reached the kitchen, the sight of the floor hit her like a slap in the face. Why on earth had she started another project? If
he
hadn’t come over, the stupid idea never would have occurred to her.

She sank into one of the dinette chairs and leaned back, closing her eyes. Her one consolation was the thought that she’d probably never see Mark Vereker again. After the way he’d tried to manipulate her, she didn’t care if she broke her promise to call him about the secret room.

When she opened her eyes, a glimpse of something white over in the dining room caught her attention. On the table beside the book Mark had given her, his manuscript lay, forgotten in his hurry to leave.

“Oh, no.” She jumped up and ran to the front door.

Naturally he had left.

Her shoulders slumped. She shook her head to herself, then retraced her way to the rear of the house.

Back in the dining room, she glared at the fat envelope. So much for not seeing him again. She wasn’t about to lift a finger to return this manuscript, but she had an idea he might feel differently about getting it back.

Chapter 4

By the time Lara got up on Monday morning her anger had cooled, and she’d regained some of her sense. She still felt determined to build her studio the way she wanted to, but she wasn’t eager to take out a big loan to do it. Her mortgage payments already kept her strapped for cash. In fact, she doubted a bank would even approve additional credit for her.

As she got dressed, she wondered if she could earn the extra money somehow--maybe get a summer job, like Di had with the clothes shop. But how much could a job like that earn her? It would probably take a lifetime of summer retail work to save up the sort of money she needed.

The phone rang, and she picked up the cordless receiver from her nightstand and pressed the button. “Hello.”

“Hi, honey,” her mother said at the other end of the line. Her voice sounded slightly edgy.

“Hi, Mom. What’s wrong? You sound funny.”

“Nothing much, but I’ve run out of my sinus prescription, and my head’s killing me. Your father’s working today, so I can’t get to the drugstore. Is there any chance you could go for me?”

Her mother belonged to a rare breed of suburban women who didn’t own a car. Growing up in the city she’d never needed one and, after marrying and moving to the suburbs, she’d gotten her license but rarely drove. Lara couldn’t imagine always being dependent on other people to take care of errands like this for you, but her mother claimed she was too nervous to deal with the stresses of traffic.

“Sure, Mom,” she said. “I have some other errands to run in town, anyway. I’ll pick it up and stop by your place in an hour or so.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll make something for lunch.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

After they hung up, Lara took her purse and fetched her checkbook from her desk so she could pay her property taxes. She’d been putting off the huge bill until the last minute, and now she would have to stop at Town Hall in person in order to pay before the deadline. Of course, the taxes were virtually going to wipe out her checking account.

She frowned. Maybe she would have to get a summer job just to make ends meet.
Forget trying to renovate the house.
The thought depressed her. Sometimes she felt like she
needed
a decent studio just to keep herself sane.

Twenty minutes later she was waiting for a receipt at the appropriate window in Town Hall when she noticed something on the felt board behind the clerk. This office also handled building-permit applications. Applying for hers seemed precipitous since she had no money for the renovations, but a stubborn streak in her swore she was going to get it. She had to. Maybe she’d play the lottery or appear on a game show and win the top prize. Maybe she’d borrow part of the cost from her parents. In any case, she’d find a way.

“Can I have an application for a building permit, too?” she asked the clerk.

“Sure,” the woman said. She went to a file cabinet and came back with several sheets of paper, along with a clipboard and pen. “You can sit over in the waiting area to fill these out. Then return them to me.”

Lara sat down and trudged her way through the mercilessly long form. Near the end of the application she came to an oddly worded question she didn’t understand. She went back to ask the clerk, but now another woman stood at the window chatting away with her, obviously a personal friend.

After a few interminable moments, the clerk looked past her friend’s shoulder to Lara. “Are you ready to turn that in?”

“Actually, I have a question.” With the other woman beside her practically breathing down her neck, Lara pointed out the section she didn’t understand.

“Oh, you don’t have to answer that,” the clerk told her. “That’s for office use. It looks like you’re finished. Let me check for you.”

Lara handed her the forms. While she waited for the clerk to look them over, she could feel the other woman’s gaze on her. Uncomfortable, she avoided looking in that direction.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the woman finally asked her.

Lara turned to face her. Tall, slim and attractive, she had stylishly short red hair and wore a sleek, dark-green business suit with a short skirt. Her catlike green eyes looked vaguely familiar. “Yes, I think so...but I’m not sure where we could have met.”

“She’s Lara Peale,” the clerk interrupted. “She was married to Liz Sulley’s cousin, Ron. You know Liz--my old high-school friend.”

Surprised, Lara looked back at the clerk, who didn’t appear familiar at all. Sometimes the town of Falls Borough could be too small for comfort.

“You’re right, Paula,” said the redhead and turned toward Lara again. “Paula and I went to a New Year’s party at Liz’s a couple of years ago, and you and your husband were there. Do you remember us? I was wearing a long black dress.”

“Oh, y-yes,” she said, recalling the party but not her or the clerk specifically. “You’re right. That’s it.”

“So you’re divorced now? That’s too bad.”

“It happens,” she said, not eager to discuss her personal life with a stranger.

“I see you got the house in the divorce,” the clerk noted, still looking at the permit application. “I remember Ron had a big old Victorian. Lucky you. But why would you want to build an addition on that big place?”

“I have a room I want to expand,” she said through clenched teeth. She got her checkbook back out of her purse. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry. How much do I owe you?”

“Just the twenty-five dollar application fee for now. You’ll be billed for the rest if they approve your request.”

“Is everything else in order?” Lara asked as she scribbled out a check.

“Ye-es...” she said, still reading the forms. “There is one thing, though. Maybe you should talk to the historical society about--

“Thanks, but I already have.” By this time all she wanted was to get away from the two busybodies. “Well, my phone number is on the application, so if there are any questions, I’m sure they’ll call me. Thanks for your help.”

Before either woman could ask another question or make another unwanted suggestion, she slid the check under the glass and turned to go. Catching the redhead’s eye, she said, “Nice seeing you, er...I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“Karen.”

“Right--Karen. Take care.”

She walked away quickly. As she turned out of the office door, she heard the redhead say just within earshot, “What a bitch.”

Lara snorted and shook her head to herself. The woman was probing her for information about her divorce--the most painful experience she’d ever gone through--and yet
she
was the one who was a bitch!

During her walk down the block to the drugstore she thought up half-a-dozen clever comebacks she wished she had shot back at the redhead. If she met one more encroaching stranger this week, she was really going to give him or her an earful!

* * * *

        When Mark got up that morning and saw sunlight streaming through his window, he decided to walk into town to the office-supply shop. Since he’d left his manuscript at Lara’s the other day, he needed to print out a new copy, but he’d run out of paper. Going back to pick up the old one had crossed his mind, only to be dismissed. He and Lara continually rubbed each other the wrong way. Since he still had his computer files, he’d worked from them over the weekend.

He went downstairs to the main floor of his apartment, a place he loved because the building had been converted from an old schoolhouse. While he made coffee and fixed himself a bowl of cereal, his final words to Lara replayed in his mind. In hindsight, he saw that he shouldn’t have brought up her ex-husband’s family. Alluding to her divorce had been a cheap shot. He’d gotten carried away, annoyed by her attitude about the secret room and further agitated when she’d used the phrase “I can’t promise anything.” Karen had said the same thing on more than one occasion when he’d tried to pinpoint where he stood with her. Shortly after the final time, she’d broken up with him. She’d said she needed time to get over her divorce before she could handle another relationship.

A week later she was back with her ex.

As he sat down to eat, he wondered if he’d been extra hard on Lara because she too was a divorcee--and an attractive one. She didn’t look like Karen or have her personality, but the few traits they had in common made him wary of her.

Damn it
, he thought, poking at his cereal without much appetite. He wished he could help her see her home for what it was, but she would never listen to him. The best he could do was try to put her and her house out of his mind and hope she didn’t go through with her plans. She’d mentioned that she was depending on the grant for money. With any luck, she’d never come up with the funds to ruin her place entirely.

During his walk into town, Lara kept coming back to his mind. The inconsistencies in her personality bugged him. Her lack of appreciation for her home didn’t seem to fit in with her chosen profession. He hadn’t actually seen her paintings, but her well used “studio” showed how much time she spent on her art. How could she have no talent or taste? Or was his attraction to her making him look for a way to believe there was more to her then there was? He really should have asked to see some of her paintings.

He reached the office-supply shop and picked up a package of paper then dallied for a while. As he browsed the aisles, the thought began to nag at him that he should use the manuscript he’d left at Lara’s as an excuse to visit her again. If she had any sense of aesthetics at all, she had to be capable of seeing reason about her house. Maybe her problem with it boiled down to disliking the Victorian style--but if so, then why didn’t she move somewhere else? And he still couldn’t explain her indifference about the secret room.

His questions continued to bother him, and by the time he paid for the paper he’d resolved to see her again. The only thing he didn’t know was when he’d feel up to facing her. He started for home, debating how soon he could stop by without being too much of a pest.

“Mark!” a familiar feminine voice called from behind him before he’d gone half a block.

Karen
. Without looking, he knew it was her. For an instant he considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but that would have been childish--and probably useless.

Slowly, he turned around and saw her hurrying toward him. She looked clumsy mincing in her high heels and mini suit. The contrast of Lara’s casual dress and graceful movements flashed in his mind. She seemed so much more down-to-earth than his ex. They really couldn’t be much alike.

“Hi!” Puffing from the exertion, Karen smiled up at him. “I’m so glad I ran into you.”

“Hello,” he said, wondering why she wanted to talk to him. They hadn’t had any contact in weeks, and he felt oddly detached from her, as if she’d become a stranger. Maybe he was finally coming to realize that he’d never truly known her in the first place.

“I was just visiting my friend Paula at Town Hall, and an interesting thing happened. By any chance, have you met a Lara Peale in connection with the historical society?”

He stared at her, startled to have Lara’s name brought up when he’d just been thinking about her. His surprise quickly evolved into annoyance that Karen hadn’t even asked how he’d been doing. She’d dumped him less than two months ago, but she acted as though they were on perfectly friendly terms. “Yeah. Why--how do you know her?”

“Well, I met her briefly at a party a couple of years ago, but that’s beside the point. She was in Paula’s office just now, and she mentioned having talked to the historical society about her house.” She pushed back her short-cropped, dyed-red hair, though every strand fell back into the exact same position. “Frankly, Paula and I thought she was lying to us. I had to check with you.”

Had Lara complained about him--but what did it matter anyway? His impatience with Karen outweighed his curiosity. “Why do you care, if you hardly know the woman?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You seem defensive. How well do
you
 know her?”

He frowned. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she was jealous--but that was ridiculous. “I’ve barely met her. As she apparently told you, she has business with the society. She applied for a grant for some work she’s doing on her house.”

“I see. That must be why she was applying for a building permit.”

Lara had applied for her permit?
Again, he was stunned. Where had she gotten the money for the addition? He tried to hang onto the tiny bubble of hope he had for her house, telling himself that maybe she’d come up with another plan.