Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1) (16 page)

Manda loved the deep blue dress with the racerback top.

“The built-in bra makes it so simple for a party. The skirt length is very sexy on you, but you could still get away with it for work if you added a little sweater. Let me show you.” She came back with what she called a “classic shrug” in filmy, light gray cashmere.

Manda tried it on. “That’s the kind of classy outfit people wear at the Manse where I work.”

“Exactly, and the shrug is on sale. You should take it to your party, too, in case it gets cooler after sunset. Shoes? Purse?”

“I don’t think I need a purse, but all I own are sneakers.”

Carolee smothered a laugh and came back with “ballet flats” and “slides.” Manda went with the silvery slides, which she knew she could wear to work. “You are so ready for this party, girl,” Carolee cheered her.

Manda handed over her credit card and did not even flinch when she looked at the total on the slip she was signing. She was relieved to see it was not as much as a semester’s worth of textbooks for even one course.

“You and Anita are my heroes, Carolee.” She bounced out of the Lemon Tree and headed home to Lakeside Terrace to get ready.

When she opened the door to Joel’s knock, his eyes did a lingering pass from head to toe. She felt her nipples grow hard and a warm stirring between her legs. Joel took notice of her reaction, closed the door with his foot, and moved in. The first kiss was deep and hungry. Manda’s skin thrilled to his touch, and his kisses drove her to the edge.

“We really need to stop,” she breathed.
I wish we didn’t.
“Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“For both of us.” Joel stepped away and gave her an apologetic smile. “I’ve destroyed your lipstick.”

“Your anatomy needs a little adjusting, too,” Manda teased on her way to the bathroom for a makeup repair.

Joel had arranged for the party to be held on a large patio that sat on the bluff between Number 7 and Number 9 Lakeside Terrace. Manda had never noticed it. “There is no Number 8?” she asked Joel and they strolled down the hill.

“Seven and eight are corner lots, and neither was large enough for a house. Eight became a driveway to the parking area behind the units. The patio was put in a few years ago for use by everyone that lives on the Terrace.”

Manda saw that it was large enough for the dozen party-goers, plus a grill, two tubs of cold drinks, and a long table laden with food.

“Graduate number three is here!” Joel announced. Faces turned their way, and glasses were raised. “And I’m serious about number three—she graduated third in her class.” Manda was treated to cheers. She blushed and set about hugging the people she knew from meetings, who in turn introduced her to their spouses and dates.

The two other graduates being honored at the party were Jerry, who had finally finished his degree in information technology after seven years in the program. “One semester at a time, I made it,” he told Manda. The other graduate being honored was a woman named Marie, who had completed her bachelor’s degree in nursing, with honors. Manda had not met Marie, but knew her husband Les from Happy Hour.

Manda expected to be shy at her first sober party, but she was at ease. She moved from group to group, engaged in a little light flirting with the men she knew, and pumped the women about their work. Half the group were assembled in a loose circle when one of the women asked Manda, “What are your plans now that you have your degree? Grad school? A job?”

Manda saw Joel’s head swivel in her direction. “Both, I hope.” She wished she had talked with Joel about this earlier. “I’ve been accepted to three schools, and I’m waiting to hear about scholarships.”

“What would be your first choice school, if you didn’t have to think about the money?”

“That’s a big ‘if,’ Jerry,” she reminded him, which brought a laugh from all the grads and their spouses. “St. Basil’s in Rochester is my favorite,” she told them. “They have strength in not-for-profit business models and in business ethics, both of which are important to me.”

Jerry challenged, “You’re not looking to make a bundle?”

Manda shook her head. “It’s never been a goal. I do want to get my CPA, though, and—"

“Your who? What’s a CPA?” Jerry’s wife Suzanne asked.

Jerry guessed, “Certified Private Accountant?”

“Close! It’s a Certified Public Accountant. Many of the masters-level accounting programs qualify as preparation for the CPA exam, if you’ve had the requisite undergrad courses. Tompkins College’s program allowed me to get all but two of those required courses, and I picked up the other two online last summer. I sound like a nerd.”

“We’re both nerds.” Jerry laughed. “Keep talking.”

“So, if I go fulltime for my masters, I can be done in a year and then sit for the exam. With the masters and the CPA, I can comfortably support myself.”

Jerry teased, “Unless you go broke paying for your education.”

Manda laughed. “That’s why I’m waiting to hear about scholarships. I have a full ride at UT Austin if I want it.”

She noticed Joel tense.

“I’d rather be here, though.”

“Well,” Jerry observed, “we gotta do what we gotta do. I wish you luck.”

“When will you hear?” Suzanne asked.

“Normally, schools have made their decisions by now, so I don’t know what to think.”

“They may have been delayed,” Joel contributed. “A lot of the smaller schools are struggling to make their enrollment quotas, and they don’t want to commit scholarship funds until they have a handle on how many new students will be starting in the fall. I wouldn’t rule out St. Basil’s at this point.”

How did he know these things?

“What’s the third school, Manda?” Les asked her.

“Syracuse.”

“Great program,” Les observed, “and great basketball.”

“So let’s say Syracuse comes through,” Jerry said, “and St. Basil’s does not, would you pick Syracuse?”

“A couple months ago, I’d have said yes, but I would consider taking out a loan, especially if St. Basil’s could meet me partway. I used to think ‘all or nothing,’ but I’m not as worried about it now.”

Jerry raised a glass to her. “You’ve got one degree in the bag. That makes it easier to lighten up.”

“Amen.”

“So you don’t need to make a bundle. What’s important in a job?” Jerry persisted.

Manda said without hesitation, “I want to work in an ethical workplace.”

Jerry’s wife snickered. “That sure narrows it down.” Several of them got into a debate about an area industry that had just made the news for unethical hiring practices.

Manda felt Joel come close behind her. “You’ll let me know when you hear from St. Basil’s?”

“Of course I’ll let you know.”

“I do want to talk more about your plans soon. But for today, I want to share something my Uncle Justin told me when I graduated from college.”

Manda’s face warmed with a smile. “I hear affection for this Uncle Justin.”

“He’s been a major influence in my life. I’ll tell you more about him sometime.”

When the debate about the local industry quieted down, Joel raised his voice so all the grads could hear him. “I’d like Jerry, Marie, and Manda all to hear this.”

They paused to give Joel their attention.

“When I got my degree, my Uncle Justin took me out for lobster—" he gestured to the catered buffet table, now picked clean of lobster, steaks, salads, and rolls— “and said to me, ‘Joel you’ve arrived at a place you’ve never been. Imagine you’re halfway up a mountain at a scenic overlook. Just for today, enjoy the view. Spend some time looking at the world from this new perspective. Let go of the struggle that’s behind you. And dream—don’t worry—about what’s to come.’” Joel raised his glass of iced coffee to the three of them, “To the present,” he toasted, “and to those who helped you make it here tonight.”

Manda raised her glass of iced tea and clinked with the others. She felt Joel’s hand come to rest on her waist. She liked it there. “To the present,” she agreed, thinking she had never been so happy. Three months earlier she could not have imagined a sober celebration like this, a sunny patio overlooking the lake, caring friends who shared their struggles and accomplishments. And Joel, who brought out the best in her. At this present moment, he felt like her best friend and maybe something more. At this moment, she had nothing to worry about and some things to dream about.

Chapter 6

“Most of you know my story,” Joel prefaced, “but I only tell it once a year, and there are some new people since the last time.”

He noticed Barb’s mouth was tight, probably expecting him to sugarcoat the past and glorify the present, working on the lecture she was going to give him later or the retelling she would do for Manda.

He needed Manda’s sponsor on his side, if at all possible, so he looked her in the eye and said, “So I’ll keep it short, and I’ll tell it straight.”

Barb was startled enough to unfold her arms.

Joel looked over at Phil and spotted Manda next to him. “Besides I know my sponsor will bust me if I’m not honest.”

Phil’s shoulders moved with a silent laugh. He saw Phil give Manda’s hand a squeeze. What was he up to?

“I grew up in a loving family. No alcoholics that I’m aware of. A few crackpots.”

He heard a few chuckles.

“No crackheads, except me.” He stole a look at Manda and saw her surprise. “I started drinking when my family was killed. I was thirteen, and I couldn’t handle it. Everyone I loved and counted on was gone. I inherited a fortune and a legacy that was staggering.

“My Uncle Justin was appointed my guardian, and he had all the right qualifications. But to be honest, he knew more about the world economy than supervising a traumatized teenager. I got a DWI at fourteen, and he made me spend a few days in jail, which was the right thing to do. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for him.” Joel made eye contact with a friend in the program who was dealing with a similar nightmare with his daughter; he saw the man nod and Joel gave him a nod of support in return.

“Shortly after the DWI, I was introduced to crack cocaine and became addicted. I overdosed at fifteen and nearly died. I would not be alive today if my uncle hadn’t dedicated himself to finding a solution. If he had let me die, he’d have had the fortune to himself and not a single responsibility, but that’s not what he wanted. We were the only family either of us had left, and that meant more to him than anything else.” Joel shook his head remembering how pivotal the realization had been for him as a teenager. “I was sick and stupid and traumatized, but I knew for sure I wanted to grow up to be that kind of man, and I knew I couldn’t do it if I kept on the path of self-destruction.

“My Uncle Justin made one decision I hated, but it was my salvation: he sent me away. He enrolled me in a prep school in New Hampshire that was academically rigorous and that had zero tolerance for drug or alcohol use by students, faculty, or staff. There were many recovering addicts and alcoholics among the adults; I was definitely in the right place.

“It took more than a semester for me to get with the program. Even though I wasn’t drinking or using, believe me when I tell you I was a nasty, foul-mouthed, defiant little twit the whole time.” He took a swallow of his coffee. It still bothered him to remember what he’d been like in those days. “The person that finally got through to me was one of the Humanities professors who was very active in AA. He had a spirituality I could not denigrate. That really intrigued me.

“I started asking questions and listening to what he had to say. He took me along to his meetings and hooked me up with a young guy named Manuel—Manny—who’d gotten sober at my age. Manny took me through the steps. I also attended another twelve-step program, Narcotics Anonymous, but I settled on AA for long-term recovery.

I needed and was fortunate to have a lot of help outside of AA. A psychiatrist helped me recover from the trauma of losing my family. And there were other professionals working with my Uncle Justin and me to settle the estate and help me prepare to do something responsible with it.

“Those years at school were probably the hardest years of my life, but I had support every step of the way. The miracle is, I was open to it.” He stole a look at Manda, and they exchanged a smile.

“By the time I finished college and graduate school, I was a whole human being with some direction. I chose to settle here, which has always been home, and I found a very strong AA program here, which has helped me make a happy, useful life. There are men and women of integrity everywhere, and I am very fortunate to work with some of the finest right here in the Finger Lakes.

“Because of you people and these meetings, I’ve been able to stay sober through every adversity and every celebration, for fourteen years now. You kept me on the right path when my fiancé and I broke up five years ago; I didn’t have to drink, but I did have to get honest about my feelings and my motives.

“I’ve always found it very hard to honor that saying on our coins, ‘To thine own self be true.’ In the beginning it was hard because I had no idea what I was meant to do or who I was meant to be. And now as I get clearer about those things, I find that being true to myself and my beliefs is pretty unpopular and very uncomfortable sometimes.” Joel surveyed the room, making eye contact with a few people he knew blamed him for the tension at the college and one who supported what he was trying to do. “But I know it’s what I need to do—to be sober and sane and useful and happy in this life.” He drained his coffee mug.

“Enough about me. It’s the speaker’s prerogative to pick a topic. There are some here tonight who are just getting into AA’s Twelve Steps. Let’s talk about how the steps have changed our lives for the better. In particular, how the fourth-step inventory has benefited us going forward.”

It was customary for the group simply to pass the basket at the end of a speaker’s story, without applause or other acknowledgement. Tonight, though, the group clapped; Joel knew from experience that this group usually reserved applause for those stories that demonstrated honesty and that emphasized how the twelve steps made it possible for alcoholics to move beyond their often wretched histories to become happy, useful, caring people. As the applause ended and the basket circulated, members of the group spoke in turn, most of them making an effort to stick to the topic Joel suggested

Joel looked down and saw his white knuckles gripping his coffee mug. He made an effort to relax before looking at Manda. She seemed intent on the discussion. Phil had his arm along the back of her chair.

Joel was sure Manda had not known half of what his story had revealed tonight. Phil was right. He really should have told her about his engagement and had that discussion in private. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. If someone blurted out Lorraine’s name during the meeting, or later over coffee, she would never forgive him.

Someone offered to refill his coffee, and he said automatically, “Thanks, no cream or sugar.”

He looked at Manda again; she was looking at him, not smiling, not glaring, just a quizzical gaze. She turned back to the meeting, and Phil looked at him, glared, shook his head, and shrugged. Joel got the message: he had blown it, and Phil had expected as much and was being protective of Manda. Joel let out a heavy sigh just as his coffee arrived. He smiled his thanks to the coffee-bearer.

After the closing prayer, the room erupted with conversation, the clatter of chairs being stacked, windows slammed shut, coffee pots dismantled, and serving tables put away. Joel shook hands with half the people in the room, reminded several others about coffee and dessert, and wondered if Manda would still join them.

He turned to look for her, and saw her eyeing him as she made her way through the crowd. Then he was face to face with her, and he was speechless. She was wearing that blue dress the exact color of her eyes, the one that left her shoulders almost bare.

Manda asked, “I’m hoping I can ride with you?”

He nodded dumbly.

“I came with Phil and his driver, and Phil decided not to come to the party, so I’m—”

“Of course we’ll go together,” Joel said in relief.

“I know there are some things we need to talk about, and maybe we can get a start on that in the car.”

“So Phil took off already?”
Duh, Cushman.

Manda nodded.

“He’s not sick?”

Manda shook her head and smiled. “I think he’s throwing us together to make sure we have that conversation.”

Joel laughed.

“He had me sit with him, because Barb was, well…”

“Barb’s not one of my fans, and I’m not a saint. Let’s head out.”

Joel put an arm around her shoulders as they walked. He beeped the Passat awake, held the door for her, and settled himself in the driver’s seat before either of them spoke again.

“Gentleman’s treatment,” she said with a smile. “I like it a lot.”

He smiled over at her and squeezed her hand. “You're trying to make this easier, aren’t you?”

“Phil said I was not going to like what you have to say. And I told Phil that I am trying to be a big girl and to accept that we’ve all got our secrets.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “And anyway I want to see you eat that decadent dessert, so if we’re not speaking to each other after tonight at least I’ll have that memory.”

Joel let out his breath in a laugh and backed out of the parking space. “I was wrong, you’re not going to make it easier. You’re going to torment me.”

“I’ve got your number, Cushman,” she teased.

“Yes, you do.” He smiled then teased her right back as he reminded her, “and I know how to make you blush.”

When all the festivities were done, Manda was exhausted, but she knew they were both on edge, and she would not sleep a wink until they’d made a start on the two thousand questions she had for him.

“I figured you for French Silk Pie to go with your cashmere persona,” she said to break the silence on the drive back to Lakeside Terrace. “How was the Turtle Cheesecake?”

“Pure decadence, as always. How was your Chocolate Oblivion?”

“Incredible. This was a really fun evening, and I got to know some people I hadn’t talked to until now.”

“Good, I’m glad you had fun. Manda, I know I should have talked to you about my story before this, just us. I was just being stupid, and I apologize for that. So what surprised you?”

“Everything. First, I’m very sorry about your family. I didn’t realize you’d lost all of them in that accident. And finding out that the Joel Cushman on the list of the Board of Trustees for the college wasn’t your father. That added a whole new dimension to the Kristof situation. And then finding out you have a fortune.”

“I had meant to tell you about the money, if you didn’t already know,” Joel interrupted and then realized how lame that was.

“I’m probably the only person in the room that didn’t know,” she said testily, “but how would I know, Joel? You work. You work hard. I see you at work everyday, and you go home and take care of the details of a whole bunch of rental properties, and you’re capable of keeping the books on those properties. I don’t think of people with fortunes working like you do. So it didn’t occur to me you’re rich.” She ran out of steam.

He honored the silence this time; he did not have long to wait.

“So, do you own those properties?”

“I do.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And do you own the Manse?”

“I do.” This was not the part of his story he thought would upset her. He tested, “I get that you’re angry, and I want to know why.”

She burst out, “I just have to wonder where my brain has been the last two years. I’m probably the only person at the Manse who didn’t get it that you were not only the boss but the owner. And probably creator of the whole concept and—”

“Yes, I am. But I don’t go around telling people that. And someday I’d like to have a conversation about the business plan for the Manse and for the rental properties and a few other things, assuming you’d like to know.”

“I would very much, but—you’re right—we have other things to talk about tonight, and I’m avoiding them. I didn’t want to ask anything hard while we were in a moving vehicle.”

Joel reached for her hand. “Thank you.”

He headed up Lakeside Terrace to the last house on the left and pulled into his parking spot. “My place or yours?”

“Yours.”

That surprised him.

“I’m not going to jump your bones. I just need to put some things together, and I think it will be easier in your space.”

“Okay, and I understand that gives you the option to storm out of my house and slam the door on your way out.”

She smiled. “It’s that bad, huh? Do I know this person you were engaged to?”

He nodded. They climbed the stairs side-by-side, Joel’s arm tight around her shoulders.

Manda shed her jacket and fixed a pot of tea for them. “Green?” Joel took it as a good sign that they were settling into their usual routine whenever Manda came up to his apartment for a talk.

“Green is good.” Joel tuned the sound system to a satellite station. “You okay with classical?”

“Sounds good.”

Joel set two mugs on a tray, added the steaming pot, and carried it to the living room. Manda curled her legs under her and raised an eyebrow when he handed her a half-full mug of tea.

“I still haven’t guessed about the fiancé,” she told him with a curious look at the level of liquid in her mug.

He sat as close to her as he thought advisable. “Lorraine.”

He watched the mug jerk and the hot tea slosh close to the rim. She was upset but apparently not homicidal.

“Thank you for not throwing that at me.”

Manda seemed not to hear him. He could see her recalculating many things.

She was quiet long enough for the tea to cool.

He took a sip and told her, “The children are not mine.”

“No, I knew that,” she said. “They both look totally like Kristof, not you and not even Lorraine.” Manda looked to Joel to continue.

“Our involvement ended when I broke off the engagement. We did continue to be in touch.”

Manda registered the statement about the continuing contact and let out a long, slow breath as if she was trying to release some of the pressure building up in her. “You know I admired Lorraine, and I can see that you and she were an obvious match.”