Page 21 of The Second Ending
No. She couldn’t do it. Every insecurity she had threatened to strangle her.
But then an image flashed through her mind, of a little boy running after shiny beer cans, heading towards the muddy slopes of a burbling stream, and of her instant decision to catch him. The image changed to the child’s mother’s grateful face and teary words of thanks, and of the circle of her associates, gathered about, praising her for her quick thinking. She’dbrushed it off at the time, but perhaps she really had done something worthwhile. Perhaps she really had saved the child from an injury, if nothing else.
Maybe she could make decisions. Before she had a chance to change her mind, she raced back after Randall, catching him just before he was about to dive into a group of people eager for his attention.
“Randall,” she called out, grabbing his attention. He spun around and answered her wide grin. “I’ll do it!”
Marcus cursedto himself the whole drive home. What the hell had he been thinking, muttering and stumbling around like that, and then running away like a scared puppy? He was a grown man, nearly 40 years old, and perfectly capable of running a large company. But he couldn’t ask a woman out for a cup of coffee?
That was just bulldust.
After all, he’d had more than his share of dates since that horrible break-up. He’d invited women out, and had been invited out by a few as well, and he was no monk either. Okay, none of those dates had turned into anything more than a fun time for a few weeks, but it wasn’t like he was scared of women or anything, or lacking in confidence. He was Marcus Fredericks, damnit, and he was a catch.
So why couldn’t he hold it together enough to talk to Ash like an adult and see if she wanted to grab a cup somewhere? Bloody hell!
He arrived back in one piece and stormed into his house, not bothering to turn on any lights. He dropped his coat on the chairnear the door and left his boots where he kicked them off to leave puddles on the mat by the door.
It was that other guy’s fault. Randall, right? The one who waved his hands around in front of them all. What a useless profession that was. After all, they only needed him to start them off, didn’t they? Then they just sang until the song was finished.
“You’re an ass, Marcus,” he grumbled. He knew full well he was full of nonsense. Even if he hadn’t learned so much from Ash during their wonderful years together about music and music-making, anyone with eyes could see how much the conductor was needed during a performance.
So, maybe, it wasn’t Randall’s fault. But it should be. What did he want with Ash, anyway, other than to interrupt him? Surely, there was nothing he needed to tell her about the concert, since that was over. Could it be…?
Damn and double damn, he was still jealous. Marcus thought back, trying to remember all the details. Had there been a ring on Randall’s finger? He vaguely recalled something glinting in the poor light. Okay, so the guy was married. That was a relief.
Get a grip, he chastised himself.Stop acting like a child, and speak to her. You know, words, put in the right order, to make sentences that convey meaning. He’d never win her back if he couldn’t move past whatever it was that stopped his brain from functioning.She’s an intelligent, rational person. Speak to her.
It was nearly the end of December. Soon it would be Christmas, and then New Year’s. Surely, somewhere in there he could find an event to invite her to.
With this resolution in mind, he stomped up the stairs to his third-floor bedroom, shucked out of his clothes, and threw himself into bed to spend a sleepless night thinking of Ashleigh.
CHAPTER 12
THE PARTY
One week until Christmas.Ashleigh hated Christmas. It came with so many sad memories. It also came with the inevitable summons to attend whatever events her parents had planned. For a while after they managed to break up her relationship with Marcus, Ashleigh had distanced herself from her family, but too many voices prevailed upon her to forgive them.
They were only looking out for you. They’re your parents. Blood is thicker than water. And beneath it all, that undercurrent that murmured, You’re not good enough for anyone else. When this was combined with the need for donors for the music project in Chile, Ashleigh found her resolve wavering, and was soon clawed back into her family’s suffocating embrace.
This year, her presence was required at three events. The first was the ‘quiet’ Christmas party her parents were hosting on the 23rd, for a small, select group of about twenty people. Appearance was everything to her family, and if that meant having both adult children present with artificial smiles pasted on their faces, then that is what must happen. Penelope’s smile was likely genuine. She was always happy to be seen by the right people and show off her perfect family. She was, afterall, the successful daughter, with a husband from the right circles and two children in the right schools. Ashleigh was the disappointment, with no partner, no children, and a useless law degree that didn’t even make her rich. But they tolerated her regardless, and were pleased enough to show her off to their friends so everyone could see how loving and tolerant they were.
The second requirement was for Christmas dinner. Previous attempts to cry off had resulted in derisive snorts and comments of, “and where else would you go?” She was permitted to return home for the night, with the expectation of returning sometime at a suitable hour on Christmas Day to ooh and aah at everyone else’s presents.
The third obligatory event was the fancy New Year’s Eve bash that the Lynches held every year. This was tuxedos and evening gowns, diamonds and pearls, and the cream of society was invited. Including the people who’d opened their wallets to pay for the instruments in Chile. Ashleigh would, of course, be present. She needed to simper and thank, and be charming and gracious, in the hopes that her donors would continue with their largess so the bands and orchestra could flourish.
This latter was also the event that Sebastian Vera, somehow, had learned about. He called, the week before Christmas, oozing about how much he hoped to see her, but that he’d learned she had family obligations. If only, he sighed, he was able to come along, she might be there for her family, while also being able to spend a few minutes with him. If only…
He was smooth! She had to give him that. She almost didn’t mind when he convinced her to ask her parents for an invitation, although the presumption rankled a bit. She had to talk herself into being flattered that he’d go to these lengths to be with her, but soon the deed was done, and the invitation accepted with all grace and due gratitude.
Consequently, when Marcus called to ask if she had plans for the holidays, she had to tell him, with great reluctance, that she did.
“Oh,” he replied, sounding rather glum over the phone. Then, after a breath, “It was presumptuous of me. I should have expected that you’d have a full calendar. I just wondered…”
Could she tell him how much she’d rather be with him? No, that wouldn’t do at all. But she couldn’t just leave him dangling. “Maybe in the new year? We could make plans then.”
“Yes, in the new year. That would be nice. Merry Christmas, Ash.”
“And to you, Marcus.”
