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“Gee, thanks.”
“That wasn’t meant as an insult,” he said quickly. “I value friendship, probably more than any romantic stuff I’ve ever been involved in. So if I see you as my friend, then take that as the compliment it is.”
“Got it. Are you considering Allie as another friend?” She already knew the answer.
“Maybe.”
“Hah!” She was enjoying making him squirm.
“Okay, I’m attracted to her. A lot.” He stopped at a red light and looked at Charlotte. “I don’t get it. She looks almost identical to you, so why am I attracted to her and not you?”
“Again, gee, thanks.” Then she laughed because she really was teasing. “Good thing I’m not attracted to you, either, friend.” And that was the honest truth. She sobered and asked the question she’d wanted to ask for a while now. “Why are you so afraid of getting into a relationship, Jack?”
“With you?” His tone was teasing, but his resistance to answering honestly was blatant.
“No. And I don’t mean to pry. It just seems like you have a successful job, a newly renovated house. You’re what, early thirties?”
“Thirty-two.”
“So what’s keeping you from settling down? Not necessarily married, but in a committed relationship?”
“Simple. It’s an allergy.”
Charlotte laughed. “Allergy?”
“I’m allergic to relationships. I inherited it from my father.”
“He never settled down, either?”
“Just the opposite,” Jack told her. “He settled down over and over and over again.”
“And that’s what caused your allergy to commitment?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I think that’s ridiculous. We’ll have to work on that. Give me your cell phone.”
He pulled it from his pants pocket and gave it to her. “What are you doing?”
She took out her own phone, too. “I’m programming Allie’s phone number into your phone so you have no excuse for not calling her. In fact, I think you should call her as soon as we get home so you can make it clear that you and I are no more than friends.”
* * *
IT WAS WELL after midnight when Allie finally collapsed, fully clothed, on her hotel bed.
“What a day,” she said aloud to the ceiling, wiggling her bare toes to bring back the circulation.
She heard a noise that sounded like her cell phone vibrating from under the pile of things she had brought in from her car. She hauled herself up off the bed, hoping it wasn’t someone asking her to do something. Her energy was depleted.
She finally dug her phone from the bottom of a reusable tote bag where she’d put her shoes, makeup bag and anything else she’d thought she might need during the day while away from the hotel.
The phone number was unfamiliar. She opened the message, and a warmth went through her as she read it.
This is Jack. Got your number from Charlotte. Hope that’s okay. Hope to talk to you soon.
She immediately wrote back, careful not to sound too eager. After all, she was off men.
Of course it’s ok. Nice to meet you.
She hesitated before hitting Send. “Nice to meet you?” she said out loud. “How formal.” She erased it and tried again.
Of course it’s ok. Call me anytime.
Again, she hesitated. Now she sounded desperate. Or at least easy. She deleted it and considered what to say.
Maybe she should ignore his text until tomorrow morning. Pretend she was asleep when it came in.
No. She really wanted him to know she felt something with him, without actually telling him that. Even though she really was off men.
She took another approach. She texted Charlotte.
Hope this didn’t wake you. It’s Allie. I need advice. Jack texted me. I want to answer, but don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
She only waited a minute or two before Charlotte replied.
It’s obvious you like each other. Why play hard-to-get?
Charlotte had no idea about Allie’s poor decisions when it came to men. She typed quickly.
I’ve made wrong choices before. Don’t want to repeat mistakes.
Charlotte wrote back.
Give him a chance. He’s been a good friend to me.
Allie considered that. She had seen firsthand how comforting Jack had been to Charlotte in the short time she’d known him.
But she barely knew Charlotte. How could she know how good the woman was at judging character? Should she take Charlotte at her word that Jack was a good guy? She looked exactly like Allie, but what if she was also as bad at judging people as Allie was?
She wrote back to Charlotte.
Thanks. Will think about it. Talk to you soon.
Charlotte replied.
Looking forward to it. Call or text me tomorrow after your family stuff. You could come over to my house so we can talk more.
Allie thought about how much work she still had to do. She really needed to drive back to Providence, but getting to know Charlotte better had become a top priority.
Sounds good. I do have to get work done before Monday morning, so I can’t stay too long.
Charlotte wrote back.
I’ll search through my mom’s files to see if I can find anything about my adoption before you get here. Can’t wait.
Allie smiled. Me, neither.
She went back to Jack’s message and hit Reply.
I’m glad she gave you my number. Hope to talk to you soon.
She hit Send and felt a rush of adrenaline. This could be a huge mistake.
She stripped out of her dress and underwear before heading to the bathroom, where she’d left her nightshirt hanging on the back of the door. She slipped it on, brushed her teeth, washed her face and applied moisturizer.
When she came out of the bathroom, there was a voice mail message on her phone. She must not have heard the phone ring over the water running.
She smiled as she listened to Jack’s message.
“Hey, you said you hoped to talk soon, so here I am.” He paused. “Guess you must be sleeping by now or maybe don’t want to talk this late. I wanted to say good-night.” He paused again. “So good night.”
She shook her head, both amused and touched. Damn, he’s good.
As much as she desperately wanted to call him back, she resisted.
After all, she was off men.
* * *
EARLY THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Charlotte was on a mission. She diligently went through box after box after box of her mother’s papers. She’d repeatedly put off the task, but now that she’d met Allie, Charlotte had a driving force behind her.
When she’d cleaned out her mother’s house to sell it after her death, Charlotte hadn’t taken the time to go through everything. Instead, she’d packed the papers into plastic boxes with lids. Now she regretted not sorting through them earlier. Mom had been a saver. She had receipts and old bank statements from over three decades ago, but nothing yet that pertained to Charlotte’s adoption.
She’d like to take a good look at her birth certificate, but she had it locked in her safe-deposit box at the bank, which was closed on Sunday afternoons. She hadn’t used it in years.
Her phone went off, announcing a text message. She put down the pile of papers she was sorting and grabbed it. Allie.
I’ll be there in a few minutes if that’s still ok.
Charlotte replied.
Can’t wait. See you soon.
She’d texted her address to Allie last night. She’d been hoping that she’d have found something by now to help them make sense of the information they had about their adoptions—which was little to nothing.
Charlotte went to the kitchen to wash up, feeling gritty after handling all the dusty papers.
By the time she stepped out onto her porch, Allie was parking her car.
“Hi,” Charlotte said with a wave, trying to control her excitement.
Allie grinned back and waved. “Hi, Charlotte!” As she got closer to the porch, she commented, “Great house!”
Charlotte appreciated the compliment. “Thanks! I fell in love with it the moment I saw it.”
“How long have you been here?” Allie asked as she ascended the porch steps and the two women hugged.
“Since last fall, a few months after my mom died. I had given up the apartment I’d been renting and moved in with her to take care of her while she was sick. When she passed away, I sold her house because I couldn’t bear to be in it without her, surrounded by so many memories.” She opened the front door and stepped inside. “Come on in. I’ll give you a tour if you’d like.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “I’d love it. These older homes have so much character.”
“Character,” Charlotte repeated. “Yeah, that’s a nice way to put it. More like repairs when you’re least expecting them.”
They laughed as they went through the living room and into the dining room, then on into the kitchen. “There’s a full bath in there,” Charlotte said, pointing to the doorway in the dining room. “There’s a shed in the small backyard, and I’m trying to grow a few vegetables in a garden, but nothing else exciting out there. Let’s go upstairs.”
The narrow staircase was on the side wall of the dining room, and Charlotte told Allie about the house’s history as they went up to the second floor. “The house was built in 1900, and the hardwood floors are original. In the eighties, the owners made some improvements, but I’ve been told they didn’t keep with the history of the house. In 2005, the home was sold. Thankfully, the new owners returned it to its turn-of-the-century feel by uncovering the brick wall on the far end of the house and installing more appropriate plumbing fixtures.”
They reached a small hallway. “Straight ahead is the guest room,” Charlotte said, and then led the way through another doorway. “In here is where I have my studio set up.”
Allie entered the room. “I love this! The light is wonderful in here.”
There were large windows at eye level, as well as a gorgeous window near the ceiling that ran the length of the wall and had amazing scrollwork. “That window up there and the skylight were what sold me on the house.”
“I should’ve asked you what you do, but you’re obviously an artist,” Allie said, looking around at the supplies and paraphernalia Charlotte had neatly arranged. She’d spent more time organizing in here than going through her mother’s old files. “Is it for fun, or is this how you make your living?”
“I’m lucky enough to be able to support myself with my art,” Charlotte said. “I’ve had several shows in the past few years, but not many since my mom got sick. Most of my sales right now are over the internet. My dream is to open a brick-and-mortar gallery.”
“Newport is a great place for that.”
“That’s actually why I decided to move here from Vermont. Newport’s also close enough to New York City and Boston to be able to have shows in those cities.”
“This is wonderful,” Allie said of a depiction of some historic Newport doorways done in pastels, hung above a shelving unit.
“Thank you. I did that about two years ago when I came here to paint some of the historic buildings. That’s when I fell in love with the town.” About a year prior to her mother’s diagnosis.
Allie pointed to a door on the far wall. “Is your bedroom through there?”
“Yes. Kind of an odd setup having to go through this room to get to that room. That’s why I chose the other bedroom for guests.” Not that she’d had any visitors except her college roommate coming through town a few weeks ago. “You said you have work to do today. What do you do?”
“I’m in advertising,” Allie said. “I recently started my own agency, and I’m hoping to land a large account tomorrow. My presentation is close to being done, but it’s not quite there.”
“How exciting. Somehow I’m not surprised that we are both entrepreneurs.”
“With a creative side, too,” Allie added. “I’m not nearly as good as you, but I do a lot of freehand drawing in my line of work, as well as animation.”
“Wow, that’s another thing we have in common. Come on.” Charlotte waved her hand. “Let’s go downstairs and see what else we can learn about each other.”
* * *
