Let Me Hold You. Melanie Schuster

with comfortable chairs, a flat-screen TV, a coffee bar and vending machines. Everything exceeded expectations for an automotive facility; there was nothing that wasn’t up-to-date and state-of-the-art in the building.

      Even her staff was top-of-the-line. He met the mechanics, a tall redhead named Rachel, a middle-aged man named Lorenzo and a young woman who looked like a runway model without the makeup and ridiculous heels. Her name was Tasha and she was as business-minded as she was gorgeous.

      He was also properly introduced to Tollie, who gave him an open, inquisitive smile that showed curiosity but no flirtation, which was a refreshing change of pace for him.

      By the time he’d met all the men and women who worked in the different areas, from body work to interiors to specialty painting, he was sure that if anyone could reassemble his dream car, it was the Custom Classics team of experts. He said as much to Alana as they walked back to her office.

      “I’m actually feeling much better now. I’ve been in an incredible funk since it happened. It was just out of the blue, completely unexpected. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I got the call about Black Beauty it was like hearing that someone had died. It was a tragedy, even though that’s a really extreme word for a car wreck. I thanked God that nobody was killed or seriously injured, but it was still like the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m embarrassed to be telling you all this stuff, but the truth is the light,” he said quietly.

      Alana invited him to sit down on the sofa and she sat next to him, putting her hand over his. Her next words surprised him.

      “You really loved your grandfather, didn’t you? And that car was a part of him, a symbol of everything he meant to you. Tell me about him.”

      Roland’s eyes lit up as he began regaling Alana with stories about the man who was such a huge part of his life. Talking to her was an incredibly cathartic experience, primarily because she was an active and attentive listener. But it was also because this was what he’d wanted, a chance to really be with her, get to know her. It would have been better if he hadn’t been rambling on like a loser dude in a chick flick, emoting all over the place about a damned car, of all things. It was time to regroup and quick.

      “Thanks for listening to me, Alana, I appreciate it. And I really appreciate you and your crew handling my car. Let me take you to dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

      Alana didn’t hesitate in giving him an answer, although it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I’d love to, Roland, but this is take-out night. Adrienne is still staying with me and I don’t know if you’ve had much experience with pregnant women, but her mouth is set for barbecue and it wouldn’t be safe for me to thwart her hormonal taste buds.”

      “Some other time, then,” he said with a decidedly cool tone of voice. Okay, so she was shutting him down again. He rose and was about to leave when she surprised him again.

      “If you don’t mind hanging out with me and Adrienne, how about coming over to my place for dinner? You can take me out for an expensive meal some other time,” she added teasingly.

      Pow, just like that, there she was—the funny, outgoing woman he hadn’t seen since the wedding. She walked him to the door and she gave him directions to her house.

      Roland left Custom Classics feeling much better than when he’d arrived. Black Beauty was in good hands and he was finally making a move in the right direction with Alana. Things were looking up.

      * * *

      A few hours later, Adrienne was finishing setting three places on the dining room table when the doorbell rang. She smiled and went to answer it. It had to be Roland, since she’d sent Alana out on an errand. It was Roland, looking good and smelling very nice. He was bearing gifts, too: a bouquet of flowers and two bottles of wine, one alcohol-free just for her.

      “How nice! Please come in and have a seat. Alana will be right back. Let me take those for you,” she said as she held out her hands for his gifts. “You can put your jacket in the closet right there,” she added.

      After stowing his jacket, Roland looked around Alana’s living room. It was elegant and stylish, looking like something that came out of a fancy magazine.

      The colors were what really caught his attention; Alana or whoever had decorated the room had a very artistic eye. Most of the colors in the room came from the paintings that were cleverly arranged on the walls. There was a fireplace wall with a glass mantel that also displayed photographs and he went over to examine them.

      He recognized them as family pictures, showing Alana’s sisters and her parents over the years. He was smiling at a picture of a much younger Alana combing Ava’s hair when he noticed a striking shot of Alana and a man who was obviously in love with her. They were in love with each other, judging by the glowing smiles on their faces and the unmistakable look of love in their eyes.

      “That’s Alana and Samson, her husband,” Adrienne said softly. She’d come back into the room as quietly as a cat. Her soft voice might have startled him, had he not been studying the portrait so carefully. “She always said the day she met him was the best day of her life.” She paused a moment and looked at the picture before adding, “The worst day of her life was the day he died.”

      Roland finally understood what people meant when they said they felt like they’d been hit by a sledgehammer. It was like all the wind had been knocked out of his body for a few seconds. He was trying to think of something to say, but words failed him. What was the proper protocol when someone gave you information like that? Luckily, Adrienne kept talking.

      “He was her college sweetheart. They ran off and got married in front of a justice of the peace the day after she graduated. Mama and Daddy were so mad,” she laughed. “But they were very happy together. They did everything together, even their business. Custom Classics was Sam’s dream and she worked with him to make it come true. For a long time I didn’t think she’d get over the pain of losing him.”

      Clearing his throat, Roland tried to level the conversational playing field. “Sorry to hear about her loss. I can see that she’s a very strong lady,” he mumbled.

      “Strong, but not invincible. Everyone needs someone in their life, that special someone who loves them and cares for them, someone who holds them tight at the end of a long day. Sissie is one of the strongest women I know, but it’s not everything...” Adrienne’s voice trailed off and she raised both her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

      After a moment of silence, Roland asked, “Where did she get all these paintings? She must really like art.”

      “She loves it. And to answer your question, Alana painted all of these. She’s a very talented artist, as you can see. She majored in art. Aren’t they beautiful?”

      “That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he mumbled as he began to examine a nearby landscape more carefully. Now that he understood that the art was Alana’s creation, the decor of the room made even more sense.