Love, Suburban Style (32 page)

“I’ve met them. You’re probably right.”

“Here we are,” she says as they pull up in front of the redbrick school, relieved to be able to drop the subject of Sam.

He reads the signboard out front. “Glenhaven Park High. Look at this place. How small-town charming.”

That’s a nice switch. Small-town charming wouldn’t have sounded like a compliment coming from him a few weeks ago.

“So Mr. Wonderful teaches here?” he asks.

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“That he was wonderful? I just assumed.”

“No, that he teaches here.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” she says, turning off the ignition and narrowing her eyes at Geoffrey, “I didn’t. So how did you know?”

Geoffrey merely shrugs guiltily.

“You know I’m going to find out. So spill it. Who have you been talking to?”

“Who do you think?”

“Cosette.”

He nods.

“About my love life?”

“About hers, really. I don’t think she’s aware that you have an active one.”

“Had,” Meg amends. “And what did she tell you about her love life?”

“I can’t break her confidence. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Sometimes kids don’t want to share things like this with their parents.”

“Things like what?”

“Let’s just drop it,” he says maddeningly.

“Let’s just not. Don’t you think I have a right to know what’s going on with her?” No response. “I know she told you about her and Ben… right?”

“Ben? Who’s—”

“Don’t play dumb, Geoffrey. I know she’s involved with Ben. I just don’t know how involved. They’re not… she’s not… in any kind of trouble, is she?”

“Trouble? No.”

“Well are they… physically involved?”

He shrugs.

“How involved?”

Geoffrey mutely indicates that his lips are sealed.

Exasperated—and, yes, jealous—Meg jerks the car door open and is climbing out when it occurs to her that this is how Sam must have felt when he found out Katie had confided in Meg and not in him.

All right, so maybe he didn’t deliberately pick a fight. Maybe he had a right to feel betrayed by his daughter.

And, yes, by Meg.

But it’s too late to fix it now. And what good would it do for her to tell him she understands?

Nothing will change the fact that she and Sam have no future together.

The trees that dot the school property cast long shadows across the sweeping lawn in the early-evening light. Meg heads toward the building with Geoffrey meandering along a few steps behind her. She glances toward the bike rack, remembering how she used to watch for Sam to park there every morning of her high school life.

Meg glimpses something—or someone—standing there.

A woman.

She’s got long hair, and she’s tall and thin, and she’s…

Filmy, Meg realizes with a gasp, and stops short.

Crashing into her, Geoffrey grabs her by the shoulders. “What? What’s wrong? Did you step on something?”

“No, I…” She starts to point at the nearly transparent figure of a woman, but realizes it’s no longer there…

If it was at all.

Of course it wasn’t there. You’re stressed, and you’re seeing things.

Does stress cause people to see things?

It must,
Meg decides grimly.
Because I am.

“What happened?” Geoffrey prods her.

She blinks. “I stepped on a rock or something. Come on. Let’s go.”

“Calling it a night?” Bob Callicott asks, sticking his head into Sam’s office and seeing him stacking the tests he just finished correcting.

“Yeah, I’m done.” He had to stay after school for a staff meeting, then returned to bring Ben to musical auditions and stuck around for an hour to catch up on a few things.

“You want to come out for a beer? I’m meeting some people down at the Grill.”

The Glenhaven Grill used to be Sam’s favorite watering hole when he came home on college vacations. Now, like everything else in town, it’s been transformed into a more upscale place. There are tables instead of booths, a bar instead of a soda fountain, and the pool table and dartboard have been replaced with a lounge area of couches and flickering votive candles.

“No, thanks,” Sam tells Bob.

“Oh, come on. Just one beer. I told Ellen I’d get you to come. She’ll be there with some people from her school.”

Ellen is Bob’s wife; she’s an art teacher in a neighboring district. The Callicotts are younger than Sam by at least a decade, a fun-loving couple who are always trying to get him involved in their busy social life. Sometimes he accepts—like when they invite him and the kids to a barbecue or pool party.

Tonight, he’s exhausted and not in the mood to socialize. He has to pick up Katie at Kelsey’s house, then swing back over to school at nine to get Ben after musical auditions.

“Tell Ellen I’ll take a rain check.”

“Are you sure? Just one beer, c’mon…”

“All right, Bob, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to talk me into this?” He has a feeling he knows.

“Ellen’s friend Samantha is going to be there.”

Bingo. Just as Sam suspected. Bob’s wife has been trying to fix him up with various women ever since she found out he was eligible.

“She’s great, Sam, you’d like her a lot,” Bob says as he shakes his head adamantly. “Beautiful, fun, smart, sexy…”

“Not interested.”

“Why not?”

Because I already know somebody who’s beautiful, fun, smart, and sexy… and if I were going to go out with anyone, it would be her.

But he isn’t, so…

“I don’t have time to get involved with anyone, Bob. Between my kids and work and the house and coaching—”

“That’s a copout.”

Sam shrugs.

“Come on… think of this: you’re both named Sam. Maybe it’s a sign that it’s meant to be.”

“And maybe you’ve been hanging out with your wife and her friends a little too much.”

Bob grins a little sheepishly. “Point taken. But listen, if you change your mind, we’ll be there until around midnight.”

“By then, I’ll be having sweet dreams.”

Yes, probably about Meg. She’s popped up in his dreams a few times.

Even more vividly—and disconcertingly—so has Sheryl. But not in an erotic way, like Meg.

No, whenever he dreams about Sheryl, he’s running, and she’s behind him, calling his name, trying to catch up to him. She keeps shouting something at him, some kind of message, but her voice is always too faint for the words to reach his ears. Oddly, he keeps straining to hear what she’s saying, yet he doesn’t stop running.

It makes no sense.

Nor does the fact that Meg keeps popping up when all he wants is to ignore the fact that she exists.

At least Katie hasn’t been hanging around her these last few weeks. Sam has managed to keep her busy with activities, and has even given her a little more freedom to do things with her friends. Yes, she’s still prone to latching on to people, but better her friends and their families than someone she might see as a potential stepmother.

After Bob leaves his office, Sam puts together some paperwork and text materials to take home over the weekend. Then he flicks off the light and walks through the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing.

Another Friday; another week coming to a close.

He can hear piano music coming from the auditorium and wonders how Ben is doing with his auditions.

His son’s decision to go out for the musical surprised him. Not that Ben doesn’t have a decent singing voice. He inherited that from his mother; Sheryl and Ben were always singing around the house or in the car.

Ben stopped after Sheryl died. Now, he listens to music avidly, but Sam hasn’t heard a melodic peep out of him in years.

There’s a break in the piano music. Sam can hear Bill Dreyfus speaking from the stage.

Curious, he slows his steps as he approaches the auditorium, wondering if he dares to spy or even just eavesdrop. Chances are, he won’t catch Ben’s audition, but he’s interested in seeing the competition…

And, all right, Meg, too. He knows she’ll be here; Bill is thrilled with her input on the production. He seems to assume that Sam and Meg are neighborly pals.

We probably should be.

Or even still could be…

If only Sam had never made that first move to kiss her that night in her house. Whatever possessed him to do that?

And what possesses him, now, to slip into the back of the darkened auditorium?

He spots Meg immediately. She’s down in the front. Her hair is caught back in a jaunty high ponytail. She’s wearing a pair of clingy jersey sweatpants that ride low on her hips, and a T-shirt that rides high, leaving an exposed stretch of skin.

Sam can feel his lower body immediately growing taut at the sight of it, of her. Dammit. Why is he here?

To see and hear Ben, he reminds himself.

But he can only focus on Meg, captivated by her despite his resolve.

Suddenly, he can’t remember why it was so important that he stay away from her. All he wants is to be with her… to talk to her, to laugh with her, to hold her, to make love to her.

This is crazy,
he tells himself. He spent all those years longing to feel something this powerful. And what did he do when he finally experienced that ever-elusive depth of emotion?

You ran away.

Maybe he should stop running. Maybe it’s time that he took a chance.

But what about the kids? What about Katie? What if she gets her hopes up, gets hurt?

What if she doesn’t get hurt? What if something wonderful happens?

The voice in his head sounds like Sheryl’s, not his own.

Something wonderful? Like what?

You know what, Sam. You heard her singing that day; you heard her express her feelings. And you didn’t have the guts to respond.

But the kids… if he tried to make things work with Meg, and it didn’t work out… then what?

You can’t protect them from every possible wound forever. Pain is a part of life; it’s inevitable. Anyway, Katie and Ben have already survived the worst thing that can happen to a child. They’re strong. They’ll be okay, no matter what.

What about you, Sam? Are you strong?

He swallows hard. Strong people don’t turn their backs on opportunity, no matter how risky.

So what does that mean?

That he should see if Meg is willing to give him—give them—a real chance?

I’ll talk to her as soon as this is over,
he decides, slipping into a seat in the back row. His heart is beating in elation, which is ridiculous. Nothing promising has happened. There’s a possibility that Meg will tell him to get lost.

But there’s also a possibility that she won’t.

Bill is calling the next student onto the stage. Meryl Goldman is in one of his sections this year. A quiet, studious girl with striking dark hair and eyes, she doesn’t seem like the type to seek the spotlight.

As she crosses the stage, sheet music in hand, she seems so hesitant that Sam’s heart goes out to her.

“All right, Meryl,” Bill calls, “you’re auditioning for Norma, right?”

She nods shyly, fumbling with the microphone.

Meg confers with the pianist, then whispers something to Bill.

“Okay, then, let’s go to act two, where Norma’s just arrived on the set. I’ll feed you the lines leading into the musical number.”

Meryl bites her lip and turns the pages of her script.

Meg strides up the aisle for a better vantage on the stage. Halfway to Sam, she spots him.

Her eyebrows rise.

He dares to hold her gaze, to offer her a conciliatory smile.

Up front, Meryl announces that she’s ready.

In the instant before she turns back toward the stage, Meg returns Sam’s smile, tentatively.

His heart soars.

“
Up here, Miss Desmond,
” Bill says, sounding like an elderly man. “
It’s Hog-eye!
”

“Hog-eye!” Meryl replies, somehow transforming herself into an elegant diva with booming vocal inflection and the sweep of an arm. “Well, hello!”

“Let’s get a look at you.”

The pianist begins the accompaniment.

Sam frowns. The music seems familiar. Why?

Meryl begins to sing, her voice hushed, reverent. “
I don’t know why I’m frightened… I know my way around here…”

It’s that song, Sam realizes with a start.

Meg’s song. The one she wrote—no, the one he
thought
she wrote—about him.

It’s not about him, and she didn’t write it. Andrew Lloyd Webber did. It’s obviously part of the
Sunset Boulevard
score. It meant nothing.

How could he have been so stupid?

His face flaming, Sam slinks out of the auditorium, caught up in his own private humiliation…

And anguish.

Just when he thought there was a chance…

But how do you know there still isn’t?

She did smile back at him.

Yeah, so what? She’s not made of stone. If someone smiles at her, she returns it. A casual smile should mean nothing more to him than the lyrics of the song Meryl is singing right now.

As he heads out into the night, Sam is just thankful he didn’t follow through on his ridiculous impulse.

Lying in bed—a real bed, no longer just a mattress on the floor—Meg can’t sleep.

She keeps remembering how Sam caught her eye earlier in the auditorium. She was so sure, the way he was looking at her, that he wanted to make some kind of connection with her again.

She couldn’t have been more wrong about that.

Not only did he disappear a few minutes later, but when he came back to pick up Ben an hour later, he did his best to avoid her.

He had to go out of his way to do it, too, because she was actually standing out in front of the school talking to Ben when she saw Sam park his Trailblazer down at the curb and step out. He looked around, saw her with Ben, and loitered by the car until their conversation was interrupted by Olympia Flickinger, who wanted to know how Sophie did in the auditions.

As Meg tried tactfully to prepare Olympia for the probability that her diva daughter wouldn’t be cast in a lead role, she watched Sam out of the corner of her eye.