“I don’t really know yet. I’ve been reading websites that explain how to start the search. They say things like, ‘Ask your adoptive parents about the adoption agency or lawyer they went through.’ I wish I could. Mom went so quickly that I never had a chance to bring up the subject. And until recently, I never even thought about finding my biological parents. But after losing my mom to cancer, I really need to know what might be in store for me, medically speaking. Not only for me, but for any children I might have.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Did your mom have a file or anything where she might have kept that information?”
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose. “Good point. I haven’t been through everything yet. She saved every piece of paper that came her way. There are boxes and boxes to go through. I’ll look for an adoption file next.”
He’d never had a woman friend before, but he enjoyed Charlotte’s company. He felt strangely brotherly toward her—a novelty since, like her, he’d been raised as an only child.
Charlotte wasn’t anywhere close to the type of woman he dated. And even if there had been a slight hint of sexual attraction between them, he certainly wouldn’t get involved with a neighbor. How awkward would it be when they stopped seeing each other?
Luckily Charlotte wasn’t the type to make assumptions... Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. Charlotte needed cheering up and he needed a plus one. “What are you doing Saturday?”
Her eyes narrowed. “This Saturday? Like tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Are you free?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“It depends on why you’re asking me if I’m free on Saturday.” She folded her hands on her lap, waiting for him to explain.
“I need a date for my cousin’s wedding.” He held up a hand. “Not really a date. A plus one.”
“You’re asking me with one day’s notice?” She cocked her head and waited for him to continue.
He let out a breath. “A few weeks ago, when I sent back the RSVP, I told Emily—my cousin—that I’d be bringing a date. You remember I was dating Brenda, right?”
Charlotte coughed to cover her laugh. “Oh, yeah, I remember Brenda.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me.”
She hesitated. “Well, she was just a little too much for me.”
“Too much?”
“She wasn’t real, personality-wise. She was one person with you and quite another when you weren’t around.”
He thought about it for a second. “Go on.”
“Did she ever tell you to stay away from me?”
“Stay away from you?” He scratched his head. “No. Why would she do that?”
“That’s what she said to me. She made it very clear that I was not supposed to have anything to do with you. Although I’m not surprised that she never brought it up with you.”
This time he was the one cocking his head. “She told you to stay away from me?”
Charlotte nodded. “I don’t think she understood that our relationship is friendly, neighborly. She saw me as a threat.”
He chuckled. “Do me a favor. Next time you meet someone I’m dating, please let me know stuff like that. I would have dropped her sooner if I’d known she had such a jealous streak. That trait, along with the dominant domestic gene, are a deadly combination.”
They laughed together, trading stories of past dating disasters. He was glad to see Charlotte smile.
“So will you go to my cousin’s wedding with me?” he asked. “Anyone else I bring will expect a second date.”
She winked at him. “I guess this means I’m off the hook for any other time you need a plus one.”
“No, no! I didn’t mean—” He glimpsed the twinkle in her eye that was rarely seen. “You’re teasing.”
“Of course I am.” She sipped her drink. “I’d love to go. I barely leave the house since I work at home. This will be good for me.”
He was glad she saw it that way. “Great! We’ll have fun. I’ll make sure of it.” He checked the time on his cell phone and got up from the rocker. “I better go make that conference call. I’ll email you the wedding details.” He picked up his coffee cup.
“Sounds good.” She rose, as well. “I’m going to go dig out Mom’s old files that I haven’t been through yet and then figure out what to wear on our nondate.”
He smiled. As he turned and went down the steps, he saw her sketch pad propped against the porch railing. The ocean was churning and the sky was dark, as if a storm was brewing. He turned back and asked Charlotte, “Is this yours?” At her nod, he said, “It’s so different—darker—from what you’ve done in the past.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “No matter how much I try, I just can’t seem to make myself use color in any of my art these days. I’m drawn to charcoal, as if my world is black and white.”
He considered her statement a moment and said in a terrible British accent, “I take that as a challenge, my lady.” He swept off a pretend hat and bowed in the middle of the street, as if he were a prince and she his princess-to-be. “Until tomorrow...”
She smiled, giving him hope that someday soon she would be the happy person he knew she could be.
He gave her a little wave and a wink. “See you later,” he called, and he took his porch steps two at a time.
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED bright with sunshine, but Allie’s mood didn’t match the weather. Morning had come too quickly after her late night, and she craved a few more hours of sleep. But no, her mother was adamant Allie have her hair done with the other girls. She wasn’t in the wedding party, thanks to some fast-talking when her sister-in-law-to-be brought it up. Allie was merely a reader at the ceremony. Regardless, her mother had insisted on her presence at several wedding-party functions.
Allie had attended the rehearsal last night like a good little girl, followed by a catered dinner at the Chinese Tea House on the Bellevue House grounds. Thanks to the bride’s parents, who were members of the preservation society, Emily and Scott would have their wedding reception at Bellevue House, one of Newport’s glamorous, historic mansions, recently donated and restored for members’ functions. And getting married at St. Mary’s Church, the same church as John and Jackie Kennedy, wasn’t too shabby, Allie supposed.
If you were into weddings, that is.
After the rehearsal dinner, Allie spent hours working on her presentation for the client who could rescue her advertising agency. She had a meeting scheduled for Monday, and there was too much preparation necessary to do it all on Sunday. Now she wasn’t quite done, but she’d gotten far enough along to be able to enjoy her brother’s big day.
After a group breakfast with the females in the wedding party, Allie was getting her hair washed and “done” at Crystal’s Salon and Spa. Allie wasn’t sure what the “spa” part of the title meant. There didn’t seem to be anything to the shop but a large room for washing and styling hair, a back room to mix coloring chemicals and a dryer that was presumably tumbling towels.
“I don’t want anything too extreme,” she told her stylist, Shari. The young woman had a blue streak in her hair and a prominent tattoo