"And remember, all smiles in front of Sheila. I want her to see that we're getting along. Don't want her to have the last time she saw us as the picture in her head. Don't you agree?"

"Of course."

I opened my desk drawer and took out my purse. Even though we worked in a small company in a town where pretty much every day was casual Friday, Chip liked for me to wear skirts and high heels to work. He told me he wanted to show me off. He also instructed me to wear my hair down most days unless we were going to a high society social event. That's when he wanted it up. He said he just liked it that way and I always tried to please him.

Chip gave me a kiss on my lips and said, "Don't be long, beautiful."

"I won't."

"Oh, wait," Chip called out as I stepped through the door. I turned and watched him hurry into his office. He returned a moment later.

"Sign this for me real quick. I need to get it in the mail."

I took the document and pen, turning the page to see what I was signing but jumped when he yelled, "For God's sake, hurry. Can't you..."

He stopped his tirade when I simply lowered the pen and scrawled out my name. Fine. He wanted me to hurry, I'd hurry. Better to sign my life away than listen to him complain... again.

He was smiling when I handed everything back. "Thank you, sweetheart. Go have a good lunch." He leaned forward and kissed me, whispering, "You're the best."

I hurried out the door and down the sidewalk, hoping to squeeze in a stop at the drug store before going to the cleaners. I wanted to get a new lipstick color in case I had to meet Chip for dinner with the Cunningham's. I felt a need for something bright and cheerful, in contrast to the dark cloud that seemed to be hovering over me lately.

Things had improved in some ways between Chip and me. I'd been stunned when he'd apologized for his poor behavior at dinner and then sent the beautiful flowers. But now, he seemed obsessed with keeping tabs on me, under the guise of some heartfelt concern for my well-being. I didn't know what to believe, or how to feel about what I believed. He had changed so much and I didn't know why.

I swung by the drug store first and picked out a bright shade of lipstick I'd seen in the latest issue of Vogue. I'd worn the same pink for years and this happy color seemed to be all the rage.

After I finished, I crossed the street and walked down a couple doors to the dry cleaners to get Chip's shirts. The cleaners was at the end of the small downtown business district which bled into an older residential area with huge Victorian style houses standing behind large oak trees, some of which were considered historical landmarks.

A few of the old houses had been turned into businesses since they stood on the main drag through town. I was glad of that, it would have been a tremendous loss to our little town to have such ornate works of craftsmanship torn down. One was now a chocolate shop, another a florist and an especially large and imposing house had been restored to its original beauty and turned into the one and only funeral home in town. It had a stone front with a grand and sweeping wrap-around porch highlighted by ornamental trim. There were wings and bays in all directions and the steep pointed roofline was accented with many gables facing in different ways. It was the quintessential Victorian style house. I always thought it was a shame that no family got to live there and enjoy its beautiful architecture. Instead, it was now the temporary housing of lifeless bodies and their sorrow-filled relatives who came to say good-bye.

As I was about to open the door to the dry cleaner's shop I caught a glimpse of a long black car slowing down in front of the drug store I just left. I couldn't help but notice it. A black limousine in this small town stuck out like a sore thumb. It pulled to a stop just past the drug store, but not quite in front of the funeral home.

As I stepped inside the cleaners, another customer was at the counter keeping the clerk busy. I took the opportunity to look out the front window to get one more look. The limo had pulled further up and was now parked on the street. I wondered if the driver was lost and if I should step outside to give assistance.

I tried to appear nonchalant as I peered out the window. It was heavy with flyers and painted-on letters of advertisement for the best dry cleaning deal in town. So much so that it was nearly impossible to look out and get a clear view of the mysterious limo.

I glanced over at the store clerk, still busy with her customer. When I looked back, a handsome stranger dressed in a sharp dark suit stepped out of the back of the long car. I could have sworn he looked directly at me. I turned away quickly, my heart picking up in beats. I didn't want him to see me gawking, but just like a rubber-necker craning to see a traffic accident on the side of the road, I had to look again. Who was he and why was he in our little town? My curiosity was getting out of hand.

I continued watching, doing my reconnaissance in little snatches as I pretended to wait for my turn in line. Soon, the driver joined the man in the dark suit, standing outside the limo and looking around. He was also dressed in dark clothing; no suit jacket, just a white shirt, pants and vest. They stood and talked for a minute, but the one I wanted to get a better view of kept his back to me. Then, he tapped his wrist where a watch would be and the driver nodded. The driver got back into the limo and mystery man started walking in the direction of the funeral home.

When he walked up the steps to the massive Victorian house, he hesitated for a brief moment. I held my breath, hoping he would turn around, hoping to catch another glimpse of his handsome face. He didn't. He simply pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, continued up the steps to the huge porch and went inside the funeral home. As he did, my eyes were glued to his backside. Even that was impressive. His shoulders were broad and filled his jacket nicely. His stature was powerful and erect, exuding confidence with every step. His hair was dark and well cut, in a modern style to go with his modern-cut suit. My heart picked up again as this image of his masculinity was absorbed into my brain. I smiled to myself. I was so easy, so gullible. A tall dark stranger arrives in town, in a black limo and look at me... I'm giddy as a schoolgirl. I shouldn't be so patently impressed. It was obvious he was just going to the funeral home after all. But still, he was a mystery and a distraction from the ho-hum boring monotony that had become my life.

I hadn't realized the dry cleaning clerk had finished with her customer and I blushed when I realized she had to call my name a second time. She gave me a curious look and said, "There must be something very interesting out that window." She was standing on tip-toe to get a glimpse.

I stepped to the counter and handed her my ticket. I pursed my lips and asked, "Do you always know what's going on at the funeral home? I mean, since you're right across the street, I imagine you see everything."

She shook her head. "I keep to myself. Mind my own business, if you know what I mean. This is a small town, it's not good for business for me to be gossipy. Why, if I told people whose shirts came in with lipstick on the collar and smelled of perfume that wasn't his wife's, I'd go out of business. My job is like being in the Secret Service." She laughed at the exaggeration. "Don't ask; don't tell. Just give me your shirts and I'll launder the secrets away. That's what I say."

I looked at her quizzically. "Are you trying to tell me something about the shirts I pick up every Wednesday?"

She shook her head. "Like I said, I mind my own business..."

I felt my face grow cold at the insinuation and found I could no longer hold her gaze. My hands twisted in anxiety while I worried my bottom lip. Seeing this, she quickly assured me, "Okay, okay. I can see I got your feathers all ruffled. I can tell you this much. I've never noticed anything about those shirts you bring in, except for a coffee stain or two," she said with a chuckle, confirming that Chip may be a slob, but not a cheat.

I smiled, relieved. Now I was just being silly. I'd been letting my imagination run wild and the mystery man I just saw didn't help matters either. My reaction was probably based from guilt as I found myself thinking of things I shouldn't.

I paid for the dry cleaning and took the shirt hangers. But before I opened the door, I gave one more glance across the street. As I reached for the doorknob, I noticed the limo had moved. It was now parked in the lot to the east side of the funeral home. I took my time, trying to dally as I made a grand gesture to open the door and close it, hoping he might come back out and I could get a better look at his face. Once on the sidewalk, I even pretended to drop my purse just to buy myself more time. What was wrong with me? Was I this desperate for entertainment in my life?

Yes.

I even considered kneeling down to tie my shoe, but happily didn't embarrass myself by bending over and trying to tie my high heels. I glanced around, desperate for a reason to loiter, but trudged along when a brilliant strategy failed to reveal itself. I walked slowly, but my luck didn't changed. Mystery man never appeared and before I made myself look like a total idiot, I decided to call Jules to meet me for lunch.

Chapter Five.

Lauren The sandwich shop that Julie and I called our favorite place was also a bread shop, specializing in delicious homemade breads that you could smell the minute you walked in the door. Each day featured a specialty, like Honey Whole Wheat, Sun-Dried Tomato Herb Parmesan Sourdough and Apple Cinnamon Swirl, just to name a few. You could pick which bread to have your sandwich made from, never an easy decision. A few steps before I entered the shop, I stopped to make the call to Jules.

"Hey Jules, come meet me for lunch. I need some girl time with my best friend."

"It's Chip again, isn't it?"

"Well, yea. That and... have you heard any news about anyone who passed away recently?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I saw a guy, er, a man, a very well dressed man going into the funeral home just a while ago when I was at the dry cleaners. I didn't recognize him, from what I could see of him anyway. I only got a glimpse of his face and I just wondered who he was. He's very distinguished looking and pulled up in a limo."

"You mean like in the last week or so?" She paused and there was a slight silence like she was thinking. "No, I can't say I've heard of anyone passing. Give me a sec to tell Wanda I'm going out and I'll be right there."

"I'm at our usual place. Meet me in ten?"

"Sure, hon."

I entered the shop and picked a seat near the wall. I didn't want our private conversation broadcast to the entire lunch crowd. The ping of my cell phone broke my concentration and I glanced to where it laid on the tabletop. It was an alert from a dictionary app on my phone that gave me a "Word of the day". In a fit of irony, the word displayed on my screen was "incongruous". It meant, "Not in harmony or keeping with surroundings or aspects of others". Hmph. That should have been my horoscope for the day. I had an app for that too, but "incongruous" was exactly what I'd been feeling about my relationship with Chip... and my life in whole.

As I waited, I realized Jules had everything. A nice house and family, a good husband who made enough money for them to hire Wanda, the full-time live-in nanny and housekeeper. She was lucky. When was my horoscope app going to tell me it was my day to be lucky in relationships? Curious, I tapped on the app and read the advice in the relationship category. It wasn't good. I scrolled to the one-week relationship forecast and read that. Not good again. I scrolled to the forecast for the month. Damn, still not good. I pushed the phone away. Stupid horoscope. Those things weren't accurate anyway. Frustrated, I grabbed my phone again, then deleted the app and tossed the electronic traitor in my purse.

Jules blew in the door in her usual hyperactive flurry. I met her at the order counter and we put in our choice of sandwiches, then returned to the table I'd chosen for privacy. We chewed on the daily sample of the freshly baked bread we'd been handed until a girl in an apron called our order number.

"I'll go get it," I said, too antsy to sit still. I returned and set the wire baskets on the thick, rustic wooden table.

"You look stressed," Julie said.

"Damn, my poker face must be broken today," came my sarcastic reply.

She laughed and I sat down, pushing Jules' basket toward her. Looking down at my sandwich, I sighed. I suddenly had no appetite for the fantastic looking food staring up at me.

I looked at Jules. Her face was always bright and happy, so I asked, "Do you count your blessings every day?"

She picked up her sandwich and gave me a quizzical look before sinking her teeth into several layers of meat, veggies and cheese.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled through a mouth full of food.

"You're losing an avocado there." I pointed as a green slice squished out the backside of her sandwich. She poked it back in and continued, "This is about Chip, isn't it?"

"Yea, yea, you said that on the phone already. You read me like a book." I offered a meek smile although I knew it didn't reach her eyes. "I've been thinking about my life, Jules-it sucks. I mean, I have a job working for Chip, but it's a secretarial job that requires no real thinking. In high school, I was so ambitious. I was student-body president and on the student council..."

"Yea, I know. I was there. Remember?"

"Sorry. What happened to me? When I met Chip, I thought, this is it. He's exactly the kind of guy I want. We could get married, have kids, a nice house, the whole nine yards. How did it go so wrong?"

"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? Nothing happened to you. You're still Miss Perfect. Beautiful, smart, long blonde hair, cute figure... you're every man's dream."

Jules set her sandwich back into the basket and gave me a serious look. "Here's the problem. Chip's the most attractive prospect in this small town and he knows it. Look around-Granger's not that big. It's mostly a farming community. In terms of eligible guys in town, you've got your meth chefs, your unemployed, your truck drivers and guys who work in the factory at John Deere." She began ticking them off on her fingers. "Unless you're willing to drive over to the city to look for a husband, that's about it. You got the best one in town, hon."

"I suppose you're right." She knew it. I knew it. Everyone in town knew it. There were other women with their eyes on my boyfriend, but I had laid claim to him a long time ago when he came back from college. Ever since, it had been my goal to marry him, for better or for worse. I just didn't expect the worse to come before the march down the aisle. I also didn't know why it was taking so long for our relationship to move to the next step. Every day that went by without a marriage proposal was one more chance it would never happen.

"It seems like you two should be engaged by now," Jules said, reading my mind. "That would be the most logical step. Is that what you want?"

"Absolutely." If he would just give me a ring, I wouldn't have to worry so much. He wouldn't either. But it had been four years of dating and that hadn't happened yet.

"All I want is a family, a good home life... and not to work anymore in a job that doesn't offer any challenges. But I would still do charity work, even after having babies."

"Geez you've got this thing all planned out don't you?"

I shrugged. "It's what I want out of life, but..."

"Ah, here it comes, the dramatic pause. But what?"

"Chip. His temper. His arrogance. It's getting worse lately. I don't know if he's under a lot of pressure at work lately or what. I mean, even though I work with him in the office, he doesn't let me know everything about his business. I just answer the phones and schedule appointments, really. A monkey could do it. I think he just gave me the job because I'm his girlfriend."

"Maybe he wants to keep tabs on you? You know, give you a job with him so he can know what you're up to, track your internet usage." She raised her eyebrows and wiggled them.

"Come on Jules, you know me better than that. I don't want to fool around. No, Chip is what I want, what I've always wanted and I'm not going to jeopardize it. Well..." I paused. "The old Chip is what I want," I amended.

I poked a finger at my sandwich and then pulled out a small shred of mayonnaise-covered lettuce and touched it to my tongue. Jules watched me pick at my food and asked, "Aren't you going to eat?" She tilted her head. "There's more isn't there? Don't just gloss over it; details, girl, details."

I'd known from the moment I called her I would confess everything. But knowing and doing were two separate things. Finally, I sighed and just said it. "Chip and I had a fight at dinner. It started as an argument about local politics, but by the time we went out to the car, it turned into a verbal attack on me. He ended up punching a dent into his Corvette."

Julie's eyebrows shot up. "With his fist?"

"Yes. It's okay, it can be fixed, but he blamed me."

"You?"

"Yea, he went all crazy, and in the heat of the moment..." I trailed off. "He didn't mean it. I guess he let his temper get the best of him."

Jules narrowed her eyes as I defended him. "His temper may have helped when he was on the football team back in high school, but that kind of shit needs to stop. Lauren, are you sure this is what you really want? You come from a good family, your dad is a doctor for god's sake. It's not like Chip picked you up from the gutter and graced you with his presence!" She stopped, realizing she'd been close to yelling. After looking around, she lowered her voice. "Don't let Chip get away with that kind of behavior. Stand up for yourself and tell him there'll be no ring on your finger until he can show you some respect. You keep acting as if he's the only choice you have for happiness. It's not. That's just small town thinking keeping you small."

Jules was right, but I was still afraid. Afraid that if I spoke my mind it would turn into another argument I couldn't win. I'd end up looking like a royal bitch, or worse, tongue-tied and completely inadequate. It would only serve to drive him further away. I couldn't have that. I loved him. He was my chance for happiness. He was everything I dreamed of for my future and if I had to shut my mouth and smile, then that's what I'd do. I would support him through this bump in the road, or whatever it's called. We would be fine. We had to be.

"I know you're right. But you know how I feel about moving away, I could never do it. Not after..." I paused, shaking my head and straightening in my chair. "I've got to stop this. I'm focusing on the bad when I need to focus on the good. I need to stop being so worried about losing him and really talk about why he's changed lately. I need to be like my dad and stop looking at just the symptoms. I need to find the root of the problem."

Jules nodded and patted my hand. "Good thinking. Chin up, girl. I don't think he wants to lose you either."

"I need to get back to the office soon." I glanced at my watch. "I'm going to the restroom. Wait for me. Don't leave until I get back."

The hallway to the restrooms was narrow, cluttered with stacks of various take-out boxes and other restaurant supplies. Just as I attempted to negotiate the turn, I ran straight into the chest of a tall man, dressed in a dark suit, who was coming out of the hall.

"Oh, sorry." I blurted out.

We did a little dance, moving in concert with one another, continuing to block each other. I moved the other way and he moved in that direction too. I laughed, realizing how silly this was and looked up to his face and froze.

My intention was to stay put and let him be the one to walk around, but he wasn't moving and I was in too much shock to do anything. He cocked his head to the side and drew back. His eyes scurried over me, up and down the length of my body before landing back on my face. His initial amusement with our awkward little dance turned into a slow smile as he said, "Well, well, well, Lauren Mitchell. I'd recognize your beautiful face anywhere," in the smoothest voice since whipped butter. My heart jumped and my knees weakened. If my mouth hadn't opened to gasp for air it would have opened for my jaw to drop anyway.

It was him. My mystery man was standing right in front of me. My smile widened, then my eyes narrowed in confusion. I looked into his handsome face as he buttoned his finely cut suit jacket. Those eyes. The shape of the face. The nose, the placement was familiar, but... other things were not. The tanned skin on his cheeks was smoother, the shoulders were much broader and his overall frame was taller and held the confidence of a powerful and successful man. This wasn't the pimply-faced boy I'd known in high school. This was the all grown up and now gorgeous Aedyn Cumberland.

"I... I... Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm making a fool of myself." I laughed and shook my head in disbelief. Finally, I found the words to give my mouth something productive to do. "I can't believe it. Aedyn?"

"In the flesh." He raised both hands palms in a ta-da gesture, his grin widening across his face.

"Gosh. It's been a long time..." Suddenly there was silence. Awkward silence.

I bit my lower lip and we both blurted out at the same time, "How've you been?"

For a moment, I was back in high school and was tempted to say "Jinx," but instead, we both fell into a fit of nervous laughter.

"Sorry, sorry..." I waved the air like I was waving away the past. "Yea, I remember you from high school. I saw you. Were you... did I see you at the funeral home earlier?"

Aedyn's eyes darted down to his shoes, which also looked expensive, probably Italian leather, and said, "My father passed away."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss." Geez. It seemed like every other word out of my mouth was, "Sorry."

"Thank you, but... actually, we hadn't been close for years."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Shit, I did it again.

His eyes suddenly brightened and the brief sadness faded from his face. "You look great. Older, of course, but in a good way."

His compliment was flattering and goose bumps ran up my arm. His eyes blazed through me, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. I knew I should be making polite small talk, but his stunning face riveted me. Saying he'd changed since high school was an understatement. He'd been transformed.

"You look pretty good yourself." I leaned against the wall, rubbing my bare arm, self-conscious about my prickling flesh. I made myself comfortable thinking we'd continue our chat. "Are you staying in town for a while?"

"No, not long. I just came long enough for the funeral and to put my dad's house up for sale. You know, the usual things that need to be taken care of."