《Cut Like Glass》


 Chapter One

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. She won¡¯t get out of the car,¡± the driver explained hoarsely.


    It had been a long day with the wedding and all the guests that needed to be carted to and fro.


    The wedding had been at Bart¡¯s house because it was ideal. He lived in a mansion just off the Malahat north of Victoria. There was nothing quite like swearing your vows with a vast mountain range and the ocean as your backdrop. Bart had bought the place with the idea of using it for such occasions and his cousin¡¯s wedding was the first time it was being used for such a purpose.


    Bart did not pay for the majority of the wedding, but the one thing he did pay for was the transportation of his more skittish relatives. Any of the wedding guests who were nervous about driving up his mountain were conveyed to the wedding in two limos. The grandmothers and great-aunts were like colorful butterflies, already in a good mood when they arrived, all smiles and joy.


    By evening, those skittish guests had left shortly after the departure of the bride and groom and the only guests left at the house were Bart¡¯s closest family members. They were still having a party and Morris, Bart¡¯s brother, was having an adult-brand tantrum.


    His girlfriend, Kelsey, refused to come to the wedding with him. She said it was bad luck for their relationship because Kelsey shouldn¡¯t have to see another bride before Morris proposed to her. However, now that the bride and groom had left, it seemed she was perfectly happy to come to the after-party.


    Bart understood that his driver, Klein, was tired, and he would have sent Morris to take care of his own girlfriend, except Morris had had too much to drink and it was a wedding. Special occasions made Bart unusually attentive. He was always possessed by this gritty need to make everything go perfectly. That was why Bart paid the extra fee to send Klien to pick up Morris¡¯ girlfriend in Victoria.


    When Klien returned, Bart saw him pull up the driveway and wanted to thank him personally before sending him home for the night.


    With a light step, Bart went down the steps while Klien was coming up them.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Kelsey?¡± Bart asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened,¡± Klein¡¯s harried voice said. ¡°I think I picked up the wrong girl.¡±


    ¡°What? How is that possible?¡± Bart asked. He had worked with Klein on many occasions and the idea that the driver had made a mistake struck Bart as impossible. ¡°Let¡¯s go through it carefully. What happened first?¡±


    Klien took a couple of deep breaths before answering. ¡°I showed up at the restaurant. There were two women outside who were alone and waiting for rides. I spoke to the first one. She wouldn¡¯t give me her name or tell me anything about herself. She thought I was hitting on her and would not listen to me when I tried to explain to her that I was a driver who had come to pick her up if her name was Kelsey. She hit me with her purse and went back into the restaurant. The other woman had been sitting on a stoop holding her head. I thought she said yes when I asked her if her name was Kelsey. When I leaned in to get her to say it a second time, she passed out cold before she could answer me. On the way up, I tried to talk to her a few more times, but she didn¡¯t answer me until we were coming up the drive. Then I called her Kelsey and she muttered something negative. What if I picked up the wrong girl?¡±


    ¡°What did the first woman look like?¡±


    ¡°She was a blonde who hadn¡¯t dyed her hair blonde recently. Big black roots. She was wearing a leopard print dress with black lace, and she had a bright pink purse,¡± Klein answered in a sadly triumphant tone, proud to have remembered so much and unhappy that he had made a mistake.


    Bart stuck his tongue out and bit it before saying, ¡°That was probably Kelsey.¡± He approached the back of the limo and looked inside. His eyebrows shot in the air. ¡°Hello,¡± he said, leaning one hand on the top of the car.


    The woman didn¡¯t move. Her eyes were closed and she didn¡¯t acknowledge that he had spoken to her. She had honey-blonde hair, dark red lips, and a fan of dark brown lashes that flattered the shape of her cheek. She wore a black and white dress that had panels of different colored fabric rather than a print that was both black and white. Her heels were white with pointed toes and a strap across her ankle. Her hands in her lap were manicured with a clear sheen and she wore a delicate row of diamonds around her wrist.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he tried again as he put his head right in the car. He wanted her to hear him, but he did not want to shout at her.


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    On closer inspection, Bart stopped dead. ¡°She¡¯s not drunk. She has a head injury. Did you see this lump on her forehead when you picked her up?¡±


    Bart got out of the way and let Klien have a look at her.


    The driver pulled his head out of the limo. ¡°That wasn¡¯t there when I picked her up.¡±


    ¡°Well, regardless, this woman has far too much class to have been dating Morris. Look at her dress length. Her hem is asymmetrical, but the majority of it goes past her knees. Notice how her face doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s been painted to look like a billboard. She doesn¡¯t need attention. She¡¯s understated and lovely all over.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± Klein said with a chuckle. ¡°I picked up the wrong girl because I forgot that I was going to pick up Morris¡¯ date and not yours.¡±


    Bart chuckled. ¡°If you can pick up women of this quality for me, why have I been meeting women on my own?¡±


    Something about their conversation stirred her and the woman in the back of the limo fluttered her eyelashes. She opened her eyes slowly to show Bart and Klien the beauty of her dark green gaze. Blinking, she looked around to get her bearings.


    ¡°Good. You¡¯re awake.¡± Bart squatted beside her to be at her eye level. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    Bart was very conscious of how attractive he was. His looks helped him when he worked with clients, when he worked with assistants, when he went out on his own, and when he went on dates. All of that added up to a conscientious effort to look trustworthy in a classic kind of way. It meant that he never let himself fall for trends and instead opted to look like the kind of man you could trust with your life savings.


    He had dark brown hair, parted on the side with a wave in it. He also shaved every morning to help him look clean-cut because his hairstyle didn¡¯t quite produce that effect on its own. He had been dressed for the wedding, so he was wearing a gray suit with a white silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± she asked softly.


    ¡°My name is Bart Camphor. You¡¯re at my place outside Victoria. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Maisie Whitlock,¡± she answered through gritted teeth. The pain in her head was clearly overwhelming her.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Glad to meet you,¡± he said pleasantly before turning back to Klien. ¡°Would you mind running to my kitchen to put together an ice pack for her?¡±


    ¡°There should be ice in the limo,¡± Klein said, working on the other side of the vehicle to put something together for her.


    Bart turned back to Maisie. ¡°We owe you an apology. Our limo driver, Klien, went to retrieve my brother¡¯s girlfriend from The Silver Swan and picked you up by accident. To make up for it, he¡¯s more than happy to take you anywhere you want to go.¡±


    Maisie didn¡¯t answer him but numbly touched her body almost like she was frisking herself. She looked up at his face and he watched her assess him. Was she talking to someone she could trust or did she detect a touch of oiliness?


    ¡°We didn¡¯t do anything to you if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering,¡± he explained kindly. ¡°Your purse is next to you and we didn¡¯t even open it to find out your name or address.¡±


    Maisie nodded. ¡°I live in downtown Victoria. If you could drive me back, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember how you got hurt?¡± Bart asked.


    ¡°Yes. An angry woman threw a tumbler at her date. He dodged and I took it in the temple. It really hurts,¡± she said, before blacking out again.


    ¡°She is gorgeous,¡± Bart breathed so far under his breath that he hoped Klien didn¡¯t hear him. He stood up and said, ¡°I¡¯m not the least bit surprised that you picked her up instead of Kelsey. Women try to be this beautiful and fail constantly.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem angry,¡± Klein, commented.


    ¡°I can¡¯t care overly what happens to each and every one of Morris¡¯ dates. He moves from woman to woman at a pace that makes everyone dizzy. Today it¡¯s Kelsey, tomorrow it¡¯s Angelica, and the day after that it¡¯s Louisa.  It¡¯s bizarre that Kelsey thinks he¡¯ll marry her.¡±


    ¡°Should I take Maisie home or take her to a hospital?¡± Klein asked hesitantly.


    ¡°I guess it depends on how hurt she is versus how much she¡¯s had to drink. A tumbler to the temple isn¡¯t nothing.¡± Bart took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and looked at her injury.


    The light in her face seemed to wake her up and she moaned.


    ¡°Hospital,¡± Bart deduced.


    Klien handed him the makeshift ice pack, which was just ice in a ziplock bag.


    Bart wrapped it in his white silk handkerchief and pronounced, ¡°I¡¯ll come with you.¡±


    He settled next to Maisie in the black limo, while Klien got the engine running. He pressed the ice pack against her temple. Using his free hand, Bart pulled Maisie¡¯s wallet out of her purse. Flipping it open, he found her driver¡¯s license and her address. After confirming the spelling of her name, he found her on Instagram and looked at her posts.


    She was twenty-seven, enjoyed baking, and home decorating. It appeared she had a fiance.


    Taking a second look at Maisie¡¯s hands, he spotted the engagement ring he had missed on his first inspection. Bart found a picture of her fiance on her feed. He looked like the personification of a rat to Bart, who enjoyed mentally comparing people to animals in order to remember them more perfectly.


    Glancing down at Maisie, he tried to figure out what animal he could compare her to. He found himself at a loss as he looked down at her. She was entirely too perfect to be anything like an animal. Peering at her contemplatively, he wondered if she would be the first person he¡¯d ever met who reminded him more of a thing than a person. Was she like glass?  Like a glass ornament hanging from a Christmas tree?  Like the tall goblet that sat next to the tumbler in the crystal cabinet?  Like a wine decanter meant to look like a woman with lips and a swell of hips?


    Bart glanced at himself in the dark glass of the window next to him. Not free of his own speculative habits, he was an animal, like everyone else he knew.  Naturally, he was a wolf. The lone variety. It was cheesy and terrible, but it was the only animal he could think of that didn¡¯t feel like an insult to be compared to since usually he used the animal comparison to look down on people.


    He knew he had to have a conversation with Maisie in order to categorize her. She might be a rare bird or an exotic fish¡­ His mind hung on the idea of a fish bowl with rainbow water splashing¡­ still not an animal.


    Wouldn¡¯t it be awful if he spoke to her and all the wonderful things that were dancing through his mind like sparkling sugar plums on a dark Christmas night turned out to be a mistake? He had met plenty of women who were lovely on the surface only for him to discover that was all they had¡­ a pleasant surface. There was nothing of much interest under their skin.  If they were fish bowls, they were empty.


    ¡°Don¡¯t disappoint me, Maisie,¡± he said softly as the limo slowed to take the curves in the road.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who disappointed you,¡± she suddenly mumbled. ¡°You are the one who disappointed me.¡±


    Taken by surprise, Bart replied to her. ¡°What did I do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she hummed.


    ¡°Nothing? If I didn¡¯t do anything, then why are you disappointed in me?¡±


    A sneer appeared on her lips. ¡°You say that like omission, neglect, and passivity are not a problem. Or at least they aren¡¯t your problem. Well, mister, they aren¡¯t going to be my problem anymore.¡±


    He chuckled. Who did she think she was talking to? ¡°What should I have done instead?¡± he asked, playing along.


    ¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± she said, waving a hand limply.


    ¡°I won¡¯t apologize for something I didn¡¯t do,¡± he said, attempting to hide his amusement. After all, she might open her eyes at any moment and realize she was not speaking to the person she thought she was.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to be rid of you,¡± she said with a slight slur, like she was falling back asleep.


    ¡°You hurt your head. I¡¯m not sure you should be allowed to fall back asleep.¡± He snapped his fingers in front of her face three times and her eyes snapped open. ¡°There you go.¡±


    Her eyes were glassy as she looked around her. ¡°Who are you again?¡±


    ¡°Bart Camphor.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± She touched the sore spot on her head.


    ¡°Who were you dumping tonight?¡± Bart surmised. ¡°Your boss or your boyfriend?¡± In his mind, neglect was unforgivable. How could she have left the restaurant on her own? There was no way a woman like her would have been left alone unless she had left angry and the man she had been with was leaving her alone to cool off. If the guy was the fiance Bart had seen online, he¡¯d be back.


    ¡°Neither. He was¡­ yuck¡­ I can¡¯t even say it.¡±


    ¡°Your fiance?¡± Bart supplied.


    Maisie swallowed. ¡°How did you know that?¡±


    ¡°If you want my advice, and I know you do, you should return his diamonds.¡± Bart picked up her hand and turned her ring around her finger to hide the shine of the rocks.


    ¡°Why? He doesn¡¯t deserve to get them back.¡±


    ¡°For quite a few reasons. If you keep them, it would be like keeping a part of him¡­ like you wanted to keep his money or a reminder of the glint in his eyes¡­ maybe it would even be like keeping a piece of his heart.¡± Seductive talk of this variety was always on the tip of Bart¡¯s tongue. It seemed innocent, but it never was.


    Maisie made a face. ¡°Hearing you say that makes me want to open the window and deposit it outside.¡±


    ¡°Does it? What did he do? You were talking about it a moment ago, but perhaps you didn¡¯t realize who you were talking to?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember saying anything,¡± she admitted. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°The hospital. That bump on your head is quite impressive. It may need to be drained.¡±


    ¡°Gross,¡± she muttered, gingerly touching the bump.


    ¡°Is there someone I can call to let them know what¡¯s happened? A sister? A friend?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ I don¡¯t really have anyone like that. I just moved. My fiance¡­ I actually broke up with him three weeks ago, but met him tonight to go over any unfinished business. I should have given him his ring back, but his conversation was so annoying, I didn¡¯t think of it. All my friends live up-island. I¡¯m sure if you take me to the hospital and they give me the green light, I can get myself home afterward.¡±


    Bart was nodding like he agreed with her completely, like he would do anything she asked. In reality, he was planning on ignoring her suggestion. He wanted to talk with her and, so far, he was as impressed with her conversation as he had been with her appearance. She didn¡¯t swear at him, threaten to sue him, cry about how much pain she was in, or fall madly in love with him on the spot. That last one was something that happened so frequently, the cliche was killing him. A woman like her did not appear in front of him every day, or ever.


    He was not about to let her out of his sight even if he had a party cooking at his house without him. He could definitely escort a fine woman like Maisie to the emergency room.

 Chapter Two

    Chapter Two


    Bart watched Maisie in her hospital bed in the emergency room from the edge of the privacy curtain. He was allowed inside, but he refused to sit down. How could he sit with that antsy woman sitting straight up in the hospital bed?


    Under the harsh lights of the emergency waiting room, Maisie had woken up in a big way. She wouldn¡¯t even pull a blanket over her knees. Instead, she clicked her tongue and rubbed her fingers together with her left hand in a motion that was almost a snap. The doctor on hand had decided that she only needed an x-ray of her head to see if she¡¯d broken any bones in her temple. If she hadn¡¯t, he would release her immediately. She had already been taken for the x-ray and now she and Bart were waiting for the doctor to return with the results.


    Maisie seemed surprised when Bart said he wanted to stay to make sure she was alright. After all, he did his best to make himself useful. That meant he was behaving like an errand boy who fetched her a can of pop and refreshed her ice pack.


    Her gaze was all over him, observing his hands in his pockets and how he kept trying to lean against a wall, but since there wasn¡¯t one, he had a few near misses with the curtain separating her from the patient in the next bed. He hoped he wasn¡¯t having one of those moments where there was a huge gap between what he thought he looked like and what he actually looked like. He thought he looked too good to be true, but maybe he actually looked like a creep who was only helping her because he was afraid she¡¯d press charges.


    With the most unmistakable head-wave, she motioned for Bart to take the chair next to her bed.


    Bart was happy to oblige and immediately took the chair, leaning toward her so he could hear her without her having to shout in the middle of the night in the emergency room of a hospital.


    ¡°Can you take me through what happened outside the restaurant again?¡± she asked quietly, though her eyes showed a sharpness that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    He was pleased to have something to talk about and took her through it with his best air of casual efficiency. It worked on most women¡­ Well, it worked on most people.


    When he was finished, she lay back on her pillows. ¡°I have to thank you for staying. Obviously, it was not your fault that I got pegged in the head while walking through the bar.  You weren¡¯t even the one to pick me up on accident.  You¡¯ve been wonderful, but would you mind stepping out while I talk to the doctor?¡± Here, she blushed artfully.


    The blush was so perfect that Bart agreed to what was expected of him without a sideways glance. However, the doctor hadn¡¯t arrived yet, so they sat in silence.


    Finally, Maisie broke it. ¡°Tell me about yourself, Bart. I¡¯m bored.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a banker. I work all over the world, but this is my home base. What do you do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m looking for a job.¡±


    ¡°You look very well dressed for someone who¡¯s unemployed,¡± he said playfully, looking down and appraisingly at her clothes. ¡°What did you do before you dumped your boy?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I was an assistant at a veterinary clinic, but I decided to stop doing that when I moved here. I don¡¯t really want to work with animals anymore.¡±


    That caught Bart¡¯s attention. He had just been thinking about animals and their human counterparts.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked curiously.


    ¡°I¡­ lost my stomach for it,¡± she said, sounding as traumatized as any war vet.


    That struck him as very interesting. He compared people to animals for his amusement while she held animals when they died. No wonder she wasn¡¯t an animal when he looked at her.  She was somewhere beyond that.


    He left it alone and pressed for different details. ¡°Do you have any idea what you want to do instead?¡±


    ¡°I want to work close to my house. I¡¯ve been applying for jobs within walking distance. I have a couple of interviews on Monday. Do you think my head will look okay by then? I¡¯d hate to go with a big ugly bruise on my forehead.¡±


    ¡°Let''s hope so,¡± he said brightly.


    At that moment, the doctor came in and Bart ducked out as promised. As he walked the empty hospital halls, he thought about the cute way Maisie acted. He was so charmed that he forgot all about what the doctor was likely to report.


    Half an hour later, Maisie met him at the front door.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said with a bright smile. ¡°No broken bones in my head, which is always a good sign. Why do you have a limo?¡±


    ¡°I usually don''t. This weekend was my cousin¡¯s wedding and I hired a few to haul around my masses of relatives. Although I do hire the same company and get the same driver whenever I have to escort more than three people around, so I know Klein pretty well. We have done a few very long rides together.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Am I keeping you from a wedding party?¡± Maisie asked in alarm.


    ¡°No,¡± he lied, before telling the truth. ¡°The wedding was this afternoon. I just kept the limo on hand until the end of the day.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Maisie sputtered in alarm. ¡°Whatever consequences there were going to be for the driver for picking up the wrong girl, they could never have been pinned on you. None of this is your problem.¡±


    Bart chuckled softly. ¡°Who said it was?¡±  He implied that he wanted to be there, giving her a look that the trouble he took for her was well worth it.


    She gave him a cautionary glance in reply.


    The limo pulled up to the curb just as they emerged from the hospital and Bart helped Maisie inside. After he joined her, she gave Klein her address and they started rolling out of the U-shaped driveway.


    When they arrived at her house, Bart thought something must be wrong. They must be in the wrong place. He double-checked the numbers and the street name before he got out of the back of the limo and helped Maisie to her feet.


    ¡°This is where you live?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said with a placid smile.


    The house she had directed him to was one of those odd houses that was between two large buildings. It had once been on a street with lots of houses, but those other houses had been bought as a parcel and torn down to make room for bigger buildings. Her house was the only one left on the block.


    A high wooden fence surrounded it. Maisie stood in front of the gate and fiddled with her phone. It was past one in the morning, but she was oddly giddy. ¡°Would you like to see my garden?¡± she offered with a smile.


    Bart nodded. He would have gone with her into a port-a-potty if she had asked him to with that smile on her face.


    She pressed a button on her phone and Bart saw lights turn on through the slats in the fence.


    Inside, he was surrounded by the most charming space. What she showed him was everything a lady¡¯s garden should be. The grass was green and springy. There were stepping stones arranged like checks on a chess board. She had a topiary in the shape of a knight like it had just stepped off the board. Tiny fairy lights lit the climbing plants on the fence whereas strings of patio lights dangled from the pagoda. Roses bloomed everywhere and bleeding hearts fell.


    He was immediately enchanted.


    ¡°Shall I send away my driver?¡± Bart asked, approaching her swing. It was covered in pillows and large enough for him to lounge on. ¡°I¡¯ll just sleep here.¡±


    Maisie¡¯s face fell. ¡°I think I just wanted to show it to someone because I haven¡¯t lived here long enough to make friends. I don¡¯t think I wanted to show you specifically, so please don¡¯t read anything into it.¡±


    At that moment, Bart¡¯s brain caught on fire. What was she saying? It sounded like she was saying something that meant that she didn¡¯t see him as a potential lover. He suffered from a moment of indecision where he wasn¡¯t sure if he should stalk over to her like the hungry wolf he was, or if he should sprawl himself out on her swing, and simply refuse to leave.


    At that moment, she opened the gate for him and said pleasantly, ¡°It¡¯s late. Thank you so much for taking me to the hospital, taking care of me there, and bringing me home. You¡¯ve been lovely, but I need to go inside.¡±


    Bart might have protested. He might have whined and complained about being thrown out so quickly, but the angle at which Maisie was standing changed his mind. A light shone directly on the bump on her head. Whatever he thought about her, him, and the night with fairy lights, she wasn¡¯t well. He needed to be sensitive.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, coming toward her with an easy gait. ¡°May I have your number, so I can text you tomorrow to make sure you¡¯re alright?¡±


    Maisie nodded and gave him her number.


    He sent her a sample text and after seeing her receive it he wished her a good night and slipped out the gate. He waved as she closed it behind her and disappeared from view.


    Instead of sitting in the back of the limo, Bart got in the front with Klein. ¡°Okay, take me home and then you¡¯re finished for the evening.¡±


    ¡°You mean for the middle of the night?¡± Klein replied brazenly. ¡°I should be pissed at you for having me work so many extra hours, but I¡¯m so thankful you smoothed that over. She¡¯s not even mad that I accidentally picked her up from the restaurant, is she?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s mad. I think she needed help and we were there to help her. Besides, I¡¯m completely enamored with her. Did you see her? Of course, you saw her. She¡¯s perfect.¡±


    Klein took his hand away from the steering wheel to rest his elbow by the window and cover his mouth with his hand. Was he attempting to disguise a chuckle?


    ¡°What?¡± Bart asked.


    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯ve just seen you with a few other women who you thought were perfect. I mean, I don¡¯t mind it when you fall into the two-week love cycle. I get a bit of business and it¡¯s nicer to work for you because you¡¯re not rowdy and neither are the women you like. It¡¯s just a little sad to see them all mascara-stained and miserable the last time I drive them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault that happens,¡± Bart asserted. ¡°I tried to be in love with them and it didn¡¯t work. Sometimes I even wonder what the heck love is and why I can never find it. I like them. I find them loveable. I get to know them. They get to know me and it turns out that everything was an act. I was acting so I could get the girl and they were acting in a way they hoped would please me. It¡¯s a big pointless display of ego clashing against ego. She wants to be desirable so badly that she can¡¯t say what she really thinks and my ego will be crushed if she won¡¯t let me win her over.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just as bad as your brother. If you know that¡¯s the cycle, why don¡¯t you break it?¡± Klein injected.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play the game in the same way. Why don¡¯t you just tell her what you want from her up front without the act? Just say what you want.¡±


    Bart rolled his eyes. ¡°That would never work. You have to dance carefully if you want to get a decent woman.¡±


    ¡°The goal isn¡¯t to win this particular woman. The goal is to cut through the lies and just tell her the truth. If she likes the truth, she¡¯ll like you.¡±


    Bart scoffed and didn¡¯t answer. He was thinking about his lone wolf status and how he liked semi-solitude more than he wanted to be paired up with any of the women he knew. They were like models. They had to be shown off.


    Who did he have to show them off to?


    His family? His brother? Who would try to take any woman he thought was attractive. His sister? Who had children of her own and only liked cackling over his choices.


    The dating carousel was best when he didn¡¯t have to make a decision to get off and the ride didn¡¯t have to stop.

 Chapter Three

    THREE


    Bart texted Maisie exactly four times and, through his delicate texting, he managed to get invited to her house for tea.


    Maisie had two outdoor areas attached to her house that overlooked her garden. The first was her front porch. A great winding staircase led up to it. She had plants there. The second was a tiny balcony with a table and two chairs that broke off from the dining room. That was where she served him tea from an adorable little tea set. The tea itself was an orange-flavored herbal tea that Bart found flavorless and bland, but the cookies she served with it were delicious and made the occasion truly noteworthy in his mind. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d been somewhere so delightfully feminine. His whole house was a man cave that just kept going the further in you went.


    ¡°Maisie, I want to ask you on a date,¡± he said, unsure if he was doing what Klien recommended or the exact opposite.


    She glanced at him and then at everything but him. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s a good idea. I mean, you¡¯re amazing. From what I know about you right now, you¡¯re amazing. The problem is¡­¡±


    ¡°That you just broke up with your fiance?¡± Bart finished for her.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s the simple way to put it. It doesn¡¯t feel that simple. I feel angry. I feel misused. I feel¡­ done,¡± she finished with an air of finality like she had thumped a gavel down in front of her.


    Bart was very much aware that even though he had been invited over for tea, it was not a meeting that met the requirements of a date in his mind. The texts that he had written implied that he wanted to pop by to see if her bruise had gone down and to make sure she really was fine. He was meeting her in person to express his romantic interest in her. It all felt very formal to him, which he liked because those formal rules made it very clear what he could and couldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°Can I ask, did he cheat on you?¡± he asked in a voice almost intended to mimic a therapist.


    Maisie huffed. ¡°Not to my knowledge, though at this point, I really don¡¯t think I would get worked up if I found out he had. I got bored. Very bored.¡±


    She pouted her bottom lip and Bart thought the shape of her lips was a perfect cupid¡¯s bow. He should not be thinking about how attractive she was, but the problem was that she was far more attractive to him than she had been. It was a Sunday. It had been a week since their last encounter and she was dressed in a white print dress. The most subtle of jewelry hung from her throat and the engagement ring was gone from her finger.


    ¡°What was so boring about him?¡± Bart questioned, getting very interested.


    ¡°Oh¡­ everything was just about him and what would make him happy. I wasn¡¯t even married to him and I got bored with making him happy.¡±


    ¡°What would make you happy?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she hedged.


    He sat back. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you. You must want something.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I do,¡± she relented. ¡°I want to live in this house. It belonged to my aunt and she left it to me in her will. I love being here. I¡¯ve made a lot of changes to the garden since I got here. The inside of the house is charming. It¡¯s full of crafts and paintings and little touches that remind me of my childhood. I used to come here for Christmas when I was little and I lived here in my late teens. The best thing is that my aunt was not a pack rat. Only the best things are here. I love it. I never want to leave.¡±


    Bart looked over the building and the garden. It was charming in the light of day as well. He could certainly understand the allure, but if she was so charmed by what she had at home, what could he offer her?


    ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I want to take you into your bedroom and kiss you until nightfall,¡± he answered with a steady tone and meaningful eye contact.


    She made a sound that was almost a honk as she gaped at him in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s brave of you to admit. You must know I¡¯ll refuse.¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know that,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m not expecting anything this minute, though I would like it. I¡¯m just trying to stir you up. You might be able to feel something beyond boredom with a different man.¡±


    She ran her hand under her nose as if to scratch it and a long line of red blood coated three-quarters of her index finger.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding,¡± he observed, tugging a napkin free from the stand and wiping her hand.


    She got a second one and blotted at her nose. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. How embarrassing! You¡¯re not turned off by blood, are you?¡± She gave a dark little chuckle through the paper napkin.


    He grimaced his answer as if to say it would take more than a bloody nose to get rid of him.


    She swallowed. ¡°Sorry¡­ I¡¯m just trying to think back to the days when I was dating before I was supposed to get married.¡± She turned away and treated her bloody nose. When she was sure she had stopped the bleeding, she turned back to him.


    Examining his face like she had never seen him before, she stopped and sized him up.


    Bart knew what he looked like. He had good lines that made up his body, particularly through his collarbone and side. More than anything, he knew he was better looking than the fiance she had dumped. He felt like a star.


    Too bad for him, she still looked bored. She took a sip of her tea and coldly asked, ¡°So, would I see you tomorrow if I let you throw me down on my bedspread?¡±


    ¡°I would never leave,¡± he replied with an easy confidence. Every motion of hers, every move, every word was getting him more and more excited. She wasn¡¯t going to be easy, which made his interest peak.


    Unfortunately for him, he didn¡¯t know that he had actually replied the worst way he could have. The question had been a trap. There hadn¡¯t been a right way to answer it, but the way he had chosen to answer it had obviously rubbed Maisie particularly wrong.


    He expected her to offer him a scathing reply, except that her nose started bleeding again, dripping in a line down her lips to her chin in one second flat.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a good day for this,¡± she said, dabbing at her nose again. ¡°Please allow me to speak for myself. I am not interested in a one-night stand. If that¡¯s your regular entertainment¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± he insisted.


    ¡°If something like that is your regular amusement,¡± she continued like he hadn¡¯t spoken, ¡°then please, do not contact me again. I¡¯m not interested in being anyone¡¯s entertainment. I thought I had already explained to you that I left my last relationship because I hadn¡¯t enjoyed satisfying someone else¡¯s desires continuously. I certainly do not exist to satisfy yours.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± he interjected with a casual shrug. ¡°All romantic relationships eventually lead to sex. You are an adult, after all. It¡¯s perfectly fine if you don¡¯t want to begin that way.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned a date? You want to begin that way?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I also wanted to let you know the nature of my interest in you. I do not want to be mistaken as a friend.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too bad. I¡¯d like to have a friend,¡± she said, holding the tissue to her nose. ¡°Sorry. I can¡¯t get the blood to stop.¡± She removed herself from her seat and hurried to the bathroom where Bart could hear her blow her nose violently.


    When she returned, he asked her, ¡°Does that help?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Are you bleeding because of last week¡¯s head injury?¡±


    She shrugged noncommittally and left the air between them empty of words.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Was what you said earlier a no for a date?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to date anyone right now.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ you¡¯re tired of dating. What part of it is tiring you out? Dressing up? It can¡¯t be that. You¡¯re dressed up right now.¡±


    The sigh that escaped Maisie¡¯s lips showed inner exhaustion to the bone. ¡°Expectations! If I go on a date with you, what will you expect? A kiss on the doorstep? An invitation inside? I am absolutely not having sex with you. It is ridiculous and obscene to risk having a child for the fun of casual dating. If you date me for weeks or months¡­ one day you¡¯ll just be like, ¡®Enough games, Maisie. I told you what I came for, now give it to me.'' I¡¯d rather you walked out right now.¡±


    Any excitement that had been brewing inside Bart abruptly died. A vision of Maisie getting knocked up suddenly entered his mind and he didn¡¯t like it one bit. Though he would have died rather than admit it to his driver, Klein, Bart did not sleep with the two-week girls. That was generally the reason they were so upset when Klein drove them home. They had never expected a life-long love affair with Bart. They had expected a one-night-stand or, as icing on the cake, a two-week seduction, ending with a weekend of sex. When Bart admitted he didn¡¯t like them well enough to go to bed with them, they were more humiliated than they would have been if he had slept with them on the first night.


    He had foolishly thought he could treat Maisie the same way he treated them, which was to say, he often dropped a sexual innuendo of the same calibur on the two-week girls. It heightened the excitement¡­ until he casually dropped that he had changed his mind on the last day. Maisie wasn¡¯t like those girls and he had been a fool to treat her like one.


    ¡°Okay. I see I made a grave error in saying that all relationships lead to sex. Obviously, the ones that end don¡¯t. It was not meant to put any pressure on you. It¡¯s my habit to say things like that around women I like in order to establish myself and stay out of the friend zone. You haven¡¯t dated in a while, but I¡¯m sure you remember how the game normally works?¡±


    She took a doubtful sip of tea. ¡°That seems like a harder way of playing than I remember.¡±


    ¡°May I begin again? Just this once?¡± he asked tactfully.


    Maisie nodded hesitantly.

 Chapter Four

    FOUR


    ¡°I¡¯m Bart Camphor.  I¡¯m a banker.  I work down the street at the Millennium Banking Network.  I see you¡¯re new to the area.  I¡¯d like to show you around.¡±  He put out a hand as if to shake hers.


    She took his hand like it was a snake and held it cautiously.


    ¡°How did your job interviews go?¡± he asked, keeping the conversation neutral.


    ¡°I got the job I wanted.¡±


    ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s at a floral shop down the hill called Buttonhole Bouquet.  I¡¯ll work as a florist.  I¡¯m really looking forward to working with plants instead of animals and getting the first choice of the best flowers when they come in,¡± she said slowly like she wasn¡¯t sure if his interest was sincere.  ¡°What do you do exactly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an investment banker, so please don¡¯t lump me in with financial planners.  I only handle people who are millionaires several times over.  I invest my own money too, so stacking money is my hobby, hence the limo and the house from the other night.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember the house clearly,¡± Maisie admitted.  Her eyes widened.  ¡°I thought I was in front of a hotel.¡±


    He smiled.  ¡°What a compliment!  Would you like to come out for a visit?¡±


    Maisie looked at him sideways.  ¡°Not today.  You know, you weren¡¯t kidding when you said your bank was just down the street.  I can see a sign advertising it from here.¡±


    Bart got out of his seat and moved behind her to see her line of vision.  Being so close to her, he looked down at her and breathed in the fresh scent of her hair.  ¡°I really messed up today,¡± he said from his position, leaning against the balcony railing.


    She looked up at him.


    ¡°If I retreat for today, can I take you for lunch sometime next week?¡±


    A wicked gleam entered Maisie¡¯s eyes.  ¡°If you¡¯re looking for a way to make it up to me, and convince me of your finer points, I have a really good way in mind.¡±


    Bart smiled back.  He was a complete sucker for the look she gave him.  It was exactly the type of look he always wanted to see on his woman¡¯s face.


    ***


    Maisie loaded garbage into the back of Bart¡¯s car.  Bart had a car with a clear stun factor.  It was an Audi R8, black and glossy and so beautiful from the side, he had almost cried when he bought it.  At least, she wasn¡¯t loading black plastic bags.  She was loading stuff that had to be taken to the eco-center: old appliances, loose cardboard, and several boxes of glass bottles.  So, there was no risk of any of it oozing out onto the interior, which made the whole ordeal a lot more comfortable for Bart.


    Apparently, she had moved to Victoria with the intention of giving up her car and she had already sold it to a friend of hers from up island, but that meant she didn¡¯t have anyone to do an errand like an eco-run for her.


    Bart looked at the state of her shed.  She still had more that needed to go and the back of his car was full.


    ¡°I have a truck,¡± he suddenly found himself offering.  He never drove it into Victoria if he could help it.  ¡°I could come by with it on a different day and take the rest of this.¡±


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    The stars in Maisie¡¯s eyes could have lit up a stadium.  ¡°I¡¯d love that, but speaking of today¡­  Can I come with you to the eco-center?  I want to see how they sort things and what they¡¯re willing to take.  I also need to find out their fees and pay them.  Afterward, we can get a bite to eat down by the waterfront.  My treat?  You know¡­ if you don¡¯t have any other plans.¡±


    Bart had never had a date where he went to a garbage dump before.  Everything was new to him, but he was willing to entertain pretty much anything if it meant staying with her.


    The entire experience was different than it would have been with another woman.  Maisie changed into jeans and a yellow spotted shirt that buttoned up the front.  She tied the tails into a knot at her waist, pulled her hair into a high ponytail, and discarded her mules for Converse All Stars that were old and stained.  Bart hadn¡¯t been on a date with a woman who dressed like that since high school.


    While they drove, instead of playing the music he normally played, Maisie had programmed the directions to the eco-center into his GPS and kept the music off in order for him to hear them more easily.  Privately, he lamented the loss of the music.  It really set the stage in that it was almost classical, but very definitely synthesized.  But what stage was he trying to set?  He wasn¡¯t taking her to a show or even dinner.  He was having his car weighed because the eco-center asked for payment by the kilogram.


    As he watched Maisie add her glass bottles to the recycling, he wondered if this was what it was like to be married to a woman.  He never ran simple errands with his dates.  That was the kind of thing he¡¯d do by himself the weekend after a love affair ended.


    Afterward, Maisie directed him to the waterfront where food trucks were set up, and took him for fish and chips.  There wasn¡¯t an official place for them to sit, so they sat on a set of stone steps in front of the harbor.  Boats bobbed and the setting sun lit up the sails like he was looking at the real-life image of a puzzle he¡¯d put together as a child.


    ¡°You really helped me today,¡± she said sweetly.  ¡°Just like you did last weekend with my bruised head and the trip to the hospital.  If you tell me what day you¡¯re free to come with your truck, I¡¯ll drop everything to accommodate you.¡±


    He nodded, a little lost for words.  If they did exactly the same thing the next week, it would be a better date because he would remember to keep his foot out of his mouth.


    The whole thing was weird for him.  Their elbows brushed as they ate and he counted the calories he¡¯d have to work off at home on the treadmill after he dropped her off.


    Normally, he¡¯d have paid for an expensive restaurant.  In the perfect restaurant, he¡¯d sit across from his date and he¡¯d have a moment, a realization that he never told anyone.  He wasn¡¯t attracted to the woman he was with.  She was boring him.  What she wanted was boring.  It was always the same situation even when it was a different woman.  Yet he had to do it that way.  He had to play the game or¡­ what?  What would happen?  He wouldn¡¯t be the lone wolf he reassured himself he was?


    He glanced at Maisie.  She wasn¡¯t like the other women.  She wasn¡¯t interested in his house.  Her interest in his car had nothing to do with what it looked like or how fast it could go¡­ unless it was on its way to the eco-center.  She wasn¡¯t even interested in him.  She hadn¡¯t even given his shoulders the usual looks women usually gave him, even when he was at work.  Something about her didn¡¯t make sense.  The line she used about only wanting to live in her aunt¡¯s house couldn¡¯t be the whole truth.  What did she really want?


    ¡°How¡¯s next Saturday?¡± he asked.  ¡°I am free then.¡±


    She smiled.  ¡°Text me with what time you want to go.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡±


    ¡°Oh, then I¡¯ll have you come at three.¡±


    ***


    Bart drove home with the music he normally listened to turned off.  His house was a mansion up on a mountain range outside Victoria.  It was a status thing.  He could easily afford it, but it honestly was not the easiest place in the world to commute to and from each day.


    It was about status.


    It was about how his family felt when they drove up and saw the iron gates at the base of the driveway.  It was about how the women friends they brought salivated and gasped, ¡°He¡¯s single!¡±  Sometimes he brought people from work home to show them a good time and add an unnamed kind of sparkle to life.


    It was about cultivating a world that was all about him and the pleasure, prestige, and comfort he brought to everyone he associated with.


    He had thought his life was perfect, but he saw at once that Maisie had something he didn¡¯t have.  Was it possible that he had something she didn¡¯t have as well?


    When the time was right, he¡¯d invite her home to his house and introduce her to his family.  She¡¯d see his wholesome side immediately and warm up to him.


    That had to be true because he knew that side of him would not work with his average date.  Maybe it would work on Maisie.

 Chapter Five

    FIVE


    When Bart showed up to help Maisie empty her shed the next Saturday, he was late. He hadn¡¯t meant to be, but his sister, Nina, had shown up the night before insisting that she and her husband needed a night away and asking Bart to watch her two kids.


    Bart didn¡¯t mind. Neither of her kids were babies, so he fed them pizza and played video games with them. At the exact right time, he suggested they watch a movie. Once he had them both snuggled on the couch under furry blankets, it was only a matter of time before they both fell asleep. He had rooms set up for children to sleep in, so he bundled them off to bed like an experienced handler.


    The morning had been fine too, but his sister and her husband did not make it back until three o¡¯clock and only after Bart phoned them to complain. Honestly, he hadn¡¯t had the idea that he should just go to Victoria to help Maisie with the kids in tow until his sister breezed through the door. Maybe kids would impress Maisie and he knew the kids would like hauling junk. They liked doing anything their uncle suggested.


    Nina apologized. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you had a date? I would have been back sooner, but what are you doing at three in the afternoon? Isn¡¯t your date normally setting her curls at this time?¡±


    Bart tugged on his plaid shirt, hoping it made him look a touch country. Country people were hospitable, trustworthy, honest, and hardworking. He was a banker and though he worked hard, he felt like his regular business attire made him look cold and the warmth he had to ooze from his demeanor to make up for it would seem fake to a woman like Maisie.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a stack of three old televisions to the eco-center,¡± he answered, pausing to fix his hair in the mirror by the door.


    Nina smiled stupidly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you like this. She must hate your guts.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t hate me,¡± Bart retorted, using his tone to hint that Maisie liked him a lot.


    ¡°There¡¯s a size sticker on your chest,¡± she pointed out. ¡°Did you forget to pull it off when you bought the shirt¡­ yesterday?¡±


    Bart found the sticker and yanked it free. ¡°Okay. She doesn¡¯t like me very much. But I¡¯m late and I¡¯ve got to go. I texted her that I¡¯d be late, but I¡¯ve really got to go now. You can leave the dishes in the sink, but lock the door on your way out.¡±


    He left listening to his sister cackle as he made his way to his truck.


    When he arrived at Maisie¡¯s, she wasn¡¯t answering the door. He would have left, but he heard a power tool in the background. Circling the house, he found her sanding the wooden siding of the shed with a power sander. He tapped her on the shoulder. She flicked off the sander and turned around.


    ¡°Glad you made it, but we¡¯re going to have to hurry if we want to get loaded up before they close,¡± she said. There was already an old television screen sitting in her garden cart.


    She slapped him on the back and helped him load up the back of his truck.


    ¡°I thought your aunt wasn¡¯t a pack rat,¡± he asked, perplexed by all the junk.


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t. This is an ordinary yearly purging. When I lived up island, I¡¯d get rid of stuff all the time. What I¡¯ve loaded up is all I¡¯ve gotten rid of since she died. Her vacuum wasn¡¯t working well, so I replaced it. All these TVs had to go. It¡¯s not much considering how much crap she could have owned. Some of this stuff is even mine. She had better stuff, so I¡¯m getting rid of my old garbage.¡±


    ¡°Did you inherit her whole house, with everything?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Dishes, clothes, jewelry, beads, drapes, family albums. I got everything she had.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to keep all of it?¡± Bart scoffed.


    ¡°I am keeping some of it. But you¡¯re right. I can¡¯t keep all of it. It was just that when I got here, I got so excited about replanting the garden that I sort of went bananas. My own clothes are still in boxes in the bedroom.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing out here sanding when you need to empty your aunt¡¯s closet?¡± Bart asked her.


    Maisie didn¡¯t have an answer.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± Bart said, leaning in. ¡°We¡¯ll take this load to the eco-center, then hit a drive-thru on the way back. We can eat here and when we¡¯re finished, I¡¯ll go through your aunt¡¯s clothes with you.¡±


    She looked at Bart with wide eyes. ¡°You would really do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a banker. Tedious details are my jam. You clearly don¡¯t need any help outside the house. You¡¯re made of green thumbs, but at the very least, if there are labels inside your aunt¡¯s clothes, I won¡¯t let you throw out anything valuable. If we find anything pricey that doesn¡¯t match you, we can take it to a consignment store and you can at least get a little pocket money.¡±


    Maisie¡¯s nod was loaded with indecision and unease.


    Bart understood that throwing out the clothing of someone dear to you was horrid, but she couldn¡¯t let her aunt¡¯s unwearable clothing eat all the available closet space. He¡¯d help her.


    They completed the second eco run and ate their burgers and milkshakes on the swing in the front garden. Bart had never done anything like that before with a date, which was now becoming the norm.


    ¡°I think this is the last night of summer,¡± Maisie mused. ¡°Starting tomorrow, I¡¯m going to pack up all these pillows and take them in the house. This has got to be the last night of good weather before the cold sets in.¡±


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    ¡°The city might surprise you. It¡¯ll snow here, which is why I own the truck, but the weather won¡¯t get insufferable¡­ until it does.  Do you like skiing?¡± Bart suddenly asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never gone.¡±


    ¡°You live on an island covered in mountains and you¡¯ve never gone skiing?¡± he asked incredulously.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    Maisie looked at the ground. ¡°I guess it never came up. It was never a good time to go. I never had an invitation. I never went on my own.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to take you some time,¡± he said with a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m a clutz. You¡¯d have more fun with someone else.¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t have to do black diamonds or anything like that. Looking at the mountains, feeling the cold air on your face, and the fun of being with people you love, that¡¯s what skiing is about. I¡¯d have a good time even if we never left the bunny hill.¡±


    She looked moved, but she attempted to cover it up by clicking her tongue in reply. ¡°If you really feel like that, then maybe we could go sometime.¡±


    After they had finished eating, they went inside. Maisie left Bart in the living room and went into the bedroom. After pulling a huge handful of clothes out of the closet, she came in and heaped them in a pile, hangers and all.


    ¡°You said you know labels, so see if there are any good ones,¡± she instructed, going back into the bedroom to get more.


    Bart didn¡¯t know what he expected from Maisie¡¯s aunt¡¯s clothes. After seeing the old television screens, he had got it into his head that Maisie must have been referring to her great aunt and the woman must have been close to a hundred because her life had declined so far that she only stayed home to watch TV, but when he saw the clothes he was confused.


    When Maisie came back with another armful of clothes, he asked her, ¡°How old was your aunt when she died?¡±


    ¡°She was forty-five,¡± Maisie said slowly.


    ¡°Forty-five? How did she die? ¡­ If you don¡¯t mind me asking,¡± he amended softly.


    ¡°Blood clots,¡± Maisie replied quietly.


    ¡°It must have been a shock,¡± Bart said, trying to be tactful.


    ¡°It was one of the saddest things I¡¯ve ever experienced,¡± she replied. She turned from him and took a moment to collect herself. ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about it. I can¡¯t keep all these clothes and it is so lovely of you to offer to help me to go through them. Let¡¯s make three piles: things I want to keep, things that can be sold, and things that can go to a thrift store.¡±


    Bart wanted to help her. He hadn¡¯t been on a date with a woman who was picking up the pieces of a life that had suddenly and unfairly ended. However, Bart was a person who was good at compartmentalizing and he put his unexpected feelings aside and focused on identifying the clothes Maisie put in front of him.


    He found a website on his phone that did exactly what he needed. It explained which brands were valuable and which pieces within those collections were spectacularly rare. It was upsetting how many of the pieces had been purchased in the last five years and how new all of them looked. Had they even been worn?


    He picked out the cream of the crop and handed a pile to Maisie for her to try on. She came out in outfit after outfit. She and her aunt had similar figures and everything her aunt owned fit Maisie very well.


    ¡°Aunt Rita had the best taste in clothes. Maybe I should get rid of all my clothes and just wear hers?¡± Maisie asked with sad, pouty lips.


    Bart didn¡¯t know if it was a good idea for anyone to walk around wearing a dead person¡¯s clothing and none of their own.


    ¡°How do you feel wearing that?¡± he suddenly asked her.


    She was wearing a black suit with a flare in the waist of the jacket and very tight pencil legs. It was a good look for her, with her honey-colored hair falling onto the black material, but if she was planning to work as a florist, then where would she wear it?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said blankly. ¡°I never saw my aunt wear this. It¡¯s only hers because it was in her closet.¡±


    He came forward and took her hands in his like he was more important to her than just a guy she¡¯d been out with a few times and he said, ¡°If you keep it, you need to pay attention to how you feel when you wear it. If it hurts to have such a thing on your body, you have to get rid of it, or, at least, put it in a box somewhere. You can¡¯t have the things of hers in your face that make you remember your aunt in a sad way.¡±


    Suddenly, Maisie kissed him on the cheek.


    She was just as shocked by that development as he was. They stood for a moment looking at each other¡¯s stricken faces. Maisie tried to step away from him, but he held onto the hand of hers that he had suddenly grasped.


    ¡°Wait. I¡¯ll skip the doorstep kiss for one kiss right now,¡± he offered, a tiny bit desperate to bring her close to him.


    She nodded.


    He kissed her, and an entirely new feeling filled him.


    ***


    Normally, when Bart kissed one of his two-week women, it was a very controlled production. He had to have the right look in his eyes, he had to approach her the right way, put the right amount of pressure on her lips, open his mouth the right amount, control his breathing, move his hands the way he practiced, and more. He was so concerned with how well he performed that, if he had asked himself if he enjoyed the kiss, the answer would have been that he didn¡¯t feel it. If the woman was breathless, if the look in her eyes said she wanted more, that was good enough for him.


    When Maisie gave him the okay, he absolutely forgot the proper way to kiss a woman to leave the right impression¡ªto seem cool and yet warm blooded. He had worked hard to be the perfect paradox¡ªpassionate and aloof¡ªthe two most polar of romantic reactions at the same time.


    He forgot.


    Completely.


    He kissed her like none of those old rules ever existed, which meant that instead of sweeping her off her feet, he was swept away himself.


    Maisie kissed him back until the slightest hitch in her breath made him stop. He pulled away gently and gave her an admiring glance, before sending her to the back of the house to change her clothes.


    Once he was alone, Bart was left wondering why a single kiss should make him tingle all over. His brain was more than happy to supply a few theories.


    First, he was comforting her. She needed comfort and his lips conveyed to her sensitive mouth so much heat that she didn¡¯t need to be held, she was already a raging furnace.


    Second, Maisie did not like expectations. Thus, she liked the idea that he forfeited his expectations for immediate gratification. And truly, the win for that night was dependent upon his not asking for a doorstep kiss, which he could do since he had not been expecting a kiss that night anyway.


    He had been very lucky she took the initiative.


    After some light pondering as he waited for Maisie to come out in the next outfit, Bart realized that the doorstep kiss was something deeply cruel that men did to women. They refrained from kissing them all night and then on the doorstep, they gave the woman their love in the form of a kiss. She wanted to be loved, so she would want to be kissed more, thus increasing the man¡¯s chances of being invited in.


    Bart had to figure out ways to make Maisie feel loved that didn¡¯t put all that pressure on her in the last moments before they said goodbye. That was what she feared.


    She came out of the bedroom in the next dress. It had a wide skirt and it flounced as she did an experimental twirl for him. ¡°I love this dress,¡± she said, dancing a little on her toes. ¡°Where could I wear it?¡±


    ¡°Out with me, next week,¡± he answered breezily.

 Chapter Six

    SIX


    Bart was successful in getting Maisie to date him.


    On Monday, he changed his flower supplier to the Buttonhole Bouquet where Maisie worked. He showed up in the middle of the day and personally went over the flower orders he normally put in through his assistant. Maisie was confused and delighted that he came in personally. Surely, he had better things to do. He assured her that he did not and that the time out of the office was just what he needed to keep himself fresh for his late afternoon meetings.


    The next week, he took her out to dinner. She wore her dress that cinched so pleasantly at the waist and flared at the hip. She wanted to be admired so he was careful to keep his gaze adoring and not heated as he let his eyes linger on her slimmer parts and then on her rounder parts. It was easier than he expected. He even allowed his hand to linger at her waist a time or two. He did expect to get his hands slapped, but apparently, in the black dress, he was allowed to escort her like the glory of the dress had something to do with him.


    It was officially fall and, once at the table, he spoke to her again about taking her to the mountains to ski.


    ¡°My whole family goes,¡± he explained. He told her about Nina and her family. Then he told her about his brother, Morris, his parents, and some of the cousins who would sometimes come. ¡°We have a cabin we share on the side of the mountain.¡±


    ¡°How many rooms?¡± she asked cagily.


    ¡°You¡¯re worried that my family will be snoopy about whether or not we¡¯ll sleep in the same bed?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°There are enough rooms that you will be able to sleep on your own without anyone even noticing. I just want to take you skiing. I don¡¯t even know if any of my relatives will be there, but if you¡¯re okay with it, I¡¯d like to ask my sister and her kids to join us. They really brighten up the bunny hill.¡±


    Maisie put her head in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m going to be outclassed by children?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°We¡¯re all outclassed by the kids. They¡¯re just better at learning because they¡¯re babies, but they¡¯re really nice kids and I think it would make for a memorable weekend.¡±


    ¡°You like kids?¡± she asked skeptically.


    ¡°I like these kids.¡±


    She took a sip of her water. ¡°Well, that¡¯s more than a lot of men can say.¡±


    ***


    Bart finally got his way and Maisie sat in the breakfast nook of his family¡¯s cabin in the frosty mountains. Her honey-colored hair spilled down her back in graceful curls. It wasn¡¯t breakfast. It was early afternoon, but he had just finished making their lunch and he set it down in front of her.


    ¡°I¡¯m still surprised you didn¡¯t want to stop somewhere to eat,¡± she said, admiring his spread.


    ¡°I want to cook for you,¡± he said simply. ¡°It¡¯s so strange. You keep refusing to come to my house, but you¡¯ll come here with me.¡±


    ¡°You can cook at my house if you want. No one is stopping you from buying groceries and coming over, or just pulling whatever you want out of the fridge and making it work. You can do either of those things at any time.¡±


    ¡°Can I?¡±


    ¡°Of course you can,¡± she said, with a smile that almost undid him.


    Bart couldn¡¯t take his eyes off her.


    They had been dating for more than two months. His favorite way to pass the time was to kiss her for as long as she would let him, but she had clear limits and he never dared to ask for anything beyond them. She had already dumped one fiance, surely she would have no problem dumping him if he tried to take things too far without understanding why she had her rules.


    In the time they had been dating, he had been grappling with the idea that if he really wanted to be with her, he had to ask her to marry him. Having fallen for her, he had already bought the ring.


    It was white gold with a marquis diamond stone in the center. He had chosen it carefully because it had absolutely nothing in common with the ring she had worn for her last fiance. That ring had been rose gold with princess-cut diamonds glittering in a line.


    The ring Bart bought for Maisie was such a striking piece that no one would ever miss seeing it on her finger. It absolutely screamed, ¡°My husband loves me the most!¡±


    Of course, he hadn¡¯t given it to her. He didn¡¯t know when he should give it to her. Timing was crucial if he wanted to hurry her, but if he gave it to her at the wrong time, it would ruin everything.


    Instead, he placed a fruit plate between their sandwiches and pointed out landmarks in the view. ¡°And there¡¯s the old mill, and behind that is Mount Washington.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s my old house!¡± she suddenly cried with glee.


    He turned in the direction she pointed, but he didn¡¯t see what she was looking at.


    ¡°I¡¯m from here. I¡¯ve seen Mount Washington before,¡± she said softly.


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    He chuckled at himself and turned back to face her. ¡°The view is better this way anyway.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever been engaged?¡± she suddenly asked him. ¡°Or married? I¡¯ve never asked you those things before.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he replied easily, stretching out his neck to the side, so his Adam¡¯s apple bobbed a little as he spoke. That angle did wonders for his jawline. He hoped she appreciated it.


    ¡°Neither?¡± she persisted.


    ¡°Neither,¡± he answered flatly.


    ¡°What about your longest-lasting girlfriend?¡±


    ¡°Well, she was excellent,¡± he said, drawing his words out.


    ¡°Tell me more,¡± Maisie urged, getting more excited.


    He was about to build up a flowery description of Maisie but stopped short. He was about to say that when he first saw her in the limo, she looked so delicate that he felt an immediate urge to take care of her. Like she was a goblet of purest crystal left on the edge of the table. She had to be caught and removed from her precarious position.  When he saw her standing in her garden, he never wanted to leave. Even at that moment, when she sat across from him in the breakfast nook, all his thoughts were geared toward finding new ways to make her happy.


    They were all things no woman wanted to hear in the context of his last lover.


    He exhaled his held breath with a puff. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wanted to pull your leg, but uh¡­ I can¡¯t. You are my longest-lasting girlfriend.¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°We haven¡¯t been dating that long. Do you mind telling me why you haven¡¯t dated anyone longer? I¡¯ve only been in long-term relationships.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I broke up with them. We weren¡¯t a good match and I broke it off before anyone got hurt. I mean, there was lots of annoyance, but no one got their heart broken.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Do I look like the man who could break your heart?¡± he asked with a cheesy grin.


    She scoffed under her breath. ¡°I have had quite a few long-term relationships break my heart. That¡¯s part of the reason I¡¯ve been so bored. So, if I got really involved with you, let you completely into my life, let you butter my toast and you cruelly dump me¡­ I¡¯d get over it. I¡¯m already over the guy I dumped three weeks before I started dating you.¡±


    ¡°Wanna tell me any more about that?¡±


    ¡°Soon. I¡­ um¡­ want to wait a bit,¡± she admitted hesitantly.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    She tilted her head like she was checking off a box with her forehead. ¡°I¡¯m still not finished using you. I have a really large shelving unit coming next week and if you don¡¯t come over with your power drill and help me assemble it, I think that will break my heart. I want a library.¡±


    He laughed out loud. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, isn¡¯t it? I want to take you skiing and you want me to assemble some beast of a shelving unit?¡±


    ¡°Guess how many walls it covers?¡± she asked, thrumming three fingers against her upper arm.


    He nearly died on the spot, she was so adorable.


    ¡°That sounds fair,¡± he agreed because he would have agreed to anything she wanted. ¡°You give me three days in the mountains and I give you a personal library that covers three walls? I¡¯m on board.¡±


    She smiled as if she had beaten him at an invisible game he didn¡¯t know he was playing.


    At that very moment, Nina and her family came through the door like an avalanche.


    Bart had asked his sister to come with her kids. Her husband had to work, but Peyton and Jaime were free, so they came to enjoy the weekend skiing with their uncle and his new girlfriend.


    ***


    None of it was as awkward as Bart feared. Not that he had many fears, but he had plans to show Maisie how wholesome he was. Peyton and Jaime chirped in at the right times saying the right things that made him sound like his relationship with them hadn¡¯t been posturing in order to win her approval.


    She favored him with multiple approving glances.


    For Bart, Nina was the real wild card. If she decided that Maisie was in some way not good enough for Bart or their family, the teasing would be merciless. Bart had seen it before, and if it reared its ugly head, he had retaliation plans of his own, but everything seemed to be going smoothly.


    They went skiing in the afternoon. They skied on the bunny hill until the kids convinced Maisie there were a few larger hills that weren¡¯t that much harder than the bunny hill. They swore to her that skiing on a longer run would help her understand what was so nice about skiing.


    ¡°And if you fall and someone is watching out for you¡­ that¡¯s when you know your family really loves you,¡± Jaime said with a childlike grin.


    Maisie hesitated for a second and Bart wasn¡¯t sure, but he thought he noticed her lower lip trembling. Had what Jaime said moved her particularly?


    She agreed to try the larger hill and went up the chairlift with Jaime showing her what she needed to do. Bart rode in the chairlift behind them with Nina and Peyton and watched her like a hawk. Was she really okay?


    After the skiing, Bart made dinner at the cabin. He seared steak, and Maisie helped him put the meal together. If something like this was another part of married life, a married life Bart could see himself living¡­ Bart felt the ring burning a hole through his pocket. It wasn¡¯t in his pocket, but the burning was as real as if it had been.


    After dinner, Nina sidled up beside Bart. ¡°I like her,¡± she said as she pretended to wash a dish that was already clean so she had an excuse to stand beside him at the sink.


    ¡°Your approval is impossible, so that¡¯s unexpected,¡± Bart said crisply.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I would approve?¡±


    ¡°Whatever you thought long-term, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d offer up your approval on the first day,¡± he hedged.


    ¡°No. Really. I like her. She hasn¡¯t been brownnosing the kids or me. She doesn¡¯t laugh at stupid stuff to give us the impression that we¡¯re all having a really good time when we are actually having a decent time. She doesn¡¯t eye you up like you¡¯re her favorite snack, which I always find so distasteful in a woman who is dating my younger brother. In short, she¡¯s fabulous. Don¡¯t let Morris see her before you¡¯ve put a ring on it.¡±


    His eyes widened. ¡°How did you know I was thinking of that? Not about Morris, but the ring?¡±


    ¡°I dated my husband for three weeks before we got engaged. Mom and Dad dated for two weeks. Grandma and Granddad dated for seven days straight and then signed the papers. I figured you were a three-week man and that¡¯s why you ended all your relationships after two weeks. But it¡¯s been quite a bit longer than two weeks.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m not bananas for already wanting to marry her?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. You¡¯re a freak. It¡¯s just that the rest of us are too. It¡¯s a family thing. Everyone in the world thinks we¡¯re crazy, but if she lasted more than three weeks, then¡­ you want to marry her. You¡¯re one of us.¡±


    Bart sighed in resignation.


    ¡°How long have you been dating her?¡± Nina asked, begging for details.


    ¡°Three months.¡±


    ¡°Better start warming her up to the idea.¡±


    ¡°How did you warm up Stewart?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. I told him that if he ever wanted to see me again, he had to show up with an engagement ring or to forget about coming over.¡±


    ¡°How long¨C¡±


    She interrupted him. ¡°Two hours. That¡¯s how long it took to drive to the jeweler, pick a ring, pay for it, and drive to my house. He may have also had a shower.¡±


    Bart sighed again. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Maisie¡¯s like Stewart and she can tolerate us.¡±

 Chapter Seven

    SEVEN


    After that, Nina threw Bart and Maisie outside telling them to go get dessert or something while she put her kids to bed.


    ¡°They¡¯re too excited to sleep with you around,¡± she explained dismissively.


    Bart took Maisie down to a village pub where he ordered cherries on chocolate brownies served in martini glasses. They each had one. The atmosphere around them was quite charming. There were fairy lights inside the pub, a fire burning in the fireplace near them, a couple kissing with wild abandon to their right, and bells playing in the background.


    Bart couldn¡¯t wait for a moment to come where he could pull her into his arms and kiss her. He no longer waited until the end of the night, but the moment didn¡¯t come. The timing was always off.


    As they left the restaurant, he swung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. He was about to say something to get her heart racing when suddenly someone said, ¡°Maisie? Is that you?¡±


    She turned her head and her contented expression fell. As Bart followed her gaze, he saw the person who had interrupted them.


    It was her fiance. His name was Chalmers. Bart recognized his ratlike features from Instagram.


    Maisie stepped forward and in doing so, stepped away from Bart. He couldn¡¯t let her get away and came up beside her.


    Maisie fumbled her greeting. ¡°So charming to see you.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Chalmers snapped. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    Maisie rolled her eyes and snapped her tongue. ¡°Here it comes,¡± she muttered under her breath, not loud enough for Chalmers to hear but loud enough for Bart to hear. Louder she said, ¡°Bart, this is Chalmers. Chalmers, this is Bart. My ex and my current meet at last.¡±


    ¡°Your current?¡± Chalmers said, like he was barely realizing that Maisie had a man¡¯s arm around her.


    Bart¡¯s left arm was around Maisie, so he extended his free hand and offered it to Chalmers. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Chalmers bit back like he barely had the energy to say it. ¡°If you¡¯re her new man, why are you letting her come to a place like this? Don¡¯t you know how dangerous a ski resort is for a person like her?¡±


    Bart was so perplexed by what the other man said that he didn¡¯t have the sense to be reproved by Chalmers¡¯ threatening demeanor.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Thanks for asking. You look well too,¡± Maisie proceeded with the conversation like Chalmers had said something normal with his rat face instead of what he had actually said. ¡°How about if we just part ways here for tonight?¡±


    As she spoke, the last three words were smacked with blood as her nose had started bleeding again.


    Chalmers and Bart both dug into their pockets for something to blot her nose with, and Chalmers won when Bart only had his wallet in his pocket and not a travel-sized tissue pack.


    ¡°Is this your first date?¡± the other man asked Bart snarkily as Maisie took it and dabbed at her nose.


    ¡°What makes you think this is our first date?¡± Bart asked, getting defensive.


    ¡°Sorry, man,¡± Chalmers said, relaxing further. ¡°I jumped down your throat for not taking better care of her, but you can¡¯t be very close to her if you don¡¯t have tissue in your pocket. Get some. You¡¯ll need it.¡± He started backing away. ¡°And get her indoors. You don¡¯t want her to slip and fall.¡±


    All of that made Bart want to commit second-degree murder. How dare he say that Bart wasn¡¯t ready to take care of her? How dare he act like Bart wasn¡¯t close to Maisie? How dare he¡­


    ¡°This isn¡¯t our first date. She hasn¡¯t had many bloody noses,¡± Bart said like he was biting ice.


    Chalmers was turning to go, but he was looking at Bart like he pitied him, like he envied him, and like he couldn¡¯t wait to get away from the both of them. ¡°Welp, tell you what. If you marry her, make sure to invite me to the wedding.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it could possibly last?¡± Bart hissed as much as a gentleman could hiss. ¡°Sour grapes?¡±


    Chalmers pointed at Maisie to show Bart what he was missing and turned away to rejoin his group.


    Bart looked down to see what Chalmers was pointing at. Maisie had bled through the tissue and there was blood seeping between her fingers.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked quietly, but firmly.


    ¡°Oh¡­ I haven¡¯t told you,¡± she said, her words were framed like what she was saying was nothing, like it was funny, like she was telling him some cute gossip that he wasn¡¯t quite in the loop enough to have heard yet. ¡°I have a blood clotting disorder. I have to take blood thinners to help me not die, and as a consequence, I get bloody noses. Sometimes, they¡¯re pretty bad.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± he said, following her as she started walking back to his truck at a quick gait.


    ¡°Yep. I told you, didn¡¯t I, that my aunt died of a blood clot? Yeah. I know I did. I just didn¡¯t like to mention that I have the same disorder. So did my mother, which is why she died when I was seventeen. When that happened, I went to live with my Aunt Rita, which is why her house is so special to me. She wasn¡¯t exactly like my mother, but she was a really good ¡®other¡¯ mother.¡±


    Bart chased after her. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you told me this?¡±


    She skipped ahead like a little girl playing a game where the object of the game was to die in the most carefree way possible. He saw her skip on the other side of cars like they were trees and he was a kid playing night games outside with his friends after dark.


    ¡°Because,¡± she said, almost like she was telling a ghost story. ¡°If you look up how to care for people with my disorder the number one thing you must avoid is¡­ what? Bart? What?¡±


    He stared at her quizzically before he straightened and answered her. ¡°Head injuries.¡±


    She laughed like she was the head bully leading a mob in the schoolyard. ¡°Exactly right! Give the man a prize!¡± She clapped her hands like it was more wonderful than anyone could take before she jumped and side-hopped down the parking lot. ¡°No one was more surprised I didn¡¯t die the night we met than I was.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s icy. Please slow down,¡± Bart called after her.


    She laughed before she fell down. He raced around the back of a car and he saw where she had fallen. She had landed next to a tree with her knees on the lip of the circle of bricks that surrounded it. For some reason, she looked like she had fallen into a martini glass and the snow was what they had used to rim the glass with. They were in the adult world again, and she lay in the imitation cup like a garnish they used to decorate the drink with. Was she a slice of lime, or an olive on a toothpick?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hit my head,¡± she said as she let her head fall backward as looked up at the clear night sky. ¡°And a really bad bruise anywhere could be my undoing.¡±


    ¡°This was why you kicked me out of the hospital the night we met? So I wouldn¡¯t hear you talk to your doctor about what was really going on?¡±


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    ¡°Yeah. Sorry about that. I just didn¡¯t think you could take it that night from a legal perspective. None of what happened was your fault. Even if I dropped dead in the hospital, which could have happened, I didn¡¯t want you to feel like it was your fault. It wasn¡¯t. Even if you had been the one to throw that glass that hit me, it still wouldn¡¯t have been your fault. Some things¡­ some people are just not meant to last.¡±


    He crouched next to her beside the lip of the cup. It was a cold night. Normally, he would have hurried to put her in the warm cab of the truck, but something was different under the night sky filled with stars. He wanted to hear the story before even one more thing happened. ¡°So, now are you ready to tell me about Chalmers?¡±


    She breathed, her breath like ghost vapor, floating up into the air like death was all around them. ¡°When we were engaged, I asked him for a wedding date on two separate occasions. When I went to open my mouth to ask for a wedding date the third time, I stopped myself. Why would this time be different from the times he refused to give me an answer? I tried the words out in my head a few times. Then I said them aloud when I was alone, just to see how they sounded. Do you know what I sounded like asking for a wedding date?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I sounded like a child. Like a whiny child who wasn¡¯t getting her way, talking to a parent who is putting her off. The parent wants to do what the child is asking for, but for reasons that are too complex for the child, they¡¯re not going to explain it to her. They are going to brush their child off and hope that they forget about the thing they were asking for. At least, that was how my mother used to speak to me. And I realized with a gut-wrenching lurch that a part of him wanted to marry me and another part didn¡¯t. I mean, if there¡¯s something I really want to do, I want to do it right away. I thought he felt the same way since he knew about my condition when he asked me to marry him. I¡¯d already told him I didn¡¯t need a big wedding. We didn¡¯t need to spend a year planning it or spend tens of thousands of dollars. I just wanted to get married and get the most out of my life.¡±


    ¡°What did you tell him the third time?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± she breathed, staring at every star in the sky rather than meeting Bart¡¯s eyes. ¡°I never had that conversation with him. There was no point. Something had changed since he proposed. He didn¡¯t want to marry me anymore, but he didn¡¯t want to break up. Breaking up with a woman who could die at any moment is complicated. I¡¯ve seen it before. So, I went back to basics. If he didn¡¯t want to marry me, then the next question was if I wanted to marry him. Did I want to marry him so bad that I couldn¡¯t live my life without him? Well, it turned out that I had cooled off too. As I explained before, he wasn¡¯t my only long-term boyfriend who thought he was the type of man who could get together with a woman like me, but after a good long think¡­ he couldn¡¯t.  They couldn¡¯t.¡± Maisie turned to Bart and finally looked into his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a coward for not telling you sooner.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m like Chalmers?¡± Bart asked, rubbing his gloved hands together.


    ¡°Most of the men I¡¯ve known want to play a love game where they call the shots,¡± Maisie said softly. ¡°If he wants the woman for a one-night stand, she should be okay with that. If he wants her for a perpetual girlfriend, until he finds the woman he truly wants to marry, she should be fine with that too. If he wants her to marry him and have his babies, she should do that too, but I¡¯m a terrible choice for all three women. I can¡¯t be someone¡¯s one-night stand. One thwap too hard against a headboard and I¡¯m in an ambulance and he¡¯s talking to the police.¡±


    ¡°Has that happened?¡± Bart asked in a territorial rasp.


    ¡°No. I may be careless, but I¡¯m not that careless. Whoever I¡¯m with has to know my situation. Still, I can¡¯t be anyone¡¯s long-term girlfriend. I require too much maintenance. The point of a long-term girlfriend is that it is the relationship that requires the least amount of work. I¡¯d make an even worse wife, dropping dead after having babies. No one is going skiing with me. I¡¯m not good for vacations, bearing children, or even planning a life with. It¡¯s¡­ the worst for a million reasons. What if I die tomorrow? What if I live to be eighty? What if I take on responsibilities and take on the burden of another person¡¯s heart and then I¡¯m just gone?¡± She touched Bart¡¯s face with her wet-gloved fingers. ¡°I¡¯m sad I had to tell you the truth.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that I¡¯ll leave you now that I know all this?¡± Bart asked gravely.


    Maisie let her head loll back even further into the snow and looked at the sky instead of him. ¡°No. If you¡¯re like other men, tonight, you¡¯ll act brave. Tomorrow, you¡¯ll still think that being with me is a great idea. It won¡¯t occur to you until after you¡¯ve been with me a while that you are losing your opportunity to be with healthy girls who can be slammed up against headboards¡­ or who don¡¯t bleed onto white pillowcases for no reason and give you reason to worry whether or not they have dropped dead whenever they don¡¯t answer the phone immediately. It wears people down. You have nothing to be ashamed of if it wears you down too.¡±


    Hearing all that put Bart in a pissy mood. He wanted to scream things. What things? He wasn¡¯t exactly sure. He did not want to be like the other men. Bart didn¡¯t answer her. He ground his teeth together and didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Chalmers was at my aunt¡¯s funeral with me,¡± Maisie explained. ¡°Before that, he didn¡¯t think my blood disorder was something real, even if I told him my mother died when I was seventeen, even if I told him the doctor told me to be careful, even if my nose bled. It wasn¡¯t real until he saw Aunt Rita¡¯s corpse and she looked thirty instead of forty-five in her casket. Suddenly, everything I had told him was real. Her funeral was quite a long time before I got possession of her house.¡±


    ¡°I bet,¡± Bart agreed, knowing a bit about how long it took inheritances to be received.


    ¡°Perhaps I should have broken up with him in person, but I didn¡¯t want to hear what he had to say about our breakup. He wanted it. He just didn¡¯t want to ask for it. Wanting to dump me made him feel like a monster. You saw him. He didn¡¯t have anything to say. When he met me at the restaurant on the night you met me, I had already broken up with him. He just wanted to leave me with the impression that he wasn¡¯t a bad guy because he felt squeamish about marrying me. Listening to him made me want to slit my wrists just so I would never have to listen to another man say those horrific, defensive, washed-up excuses again. I warned him. I began our relationship by warning him, but it wasn¡¯t real to him until there was a dead body.¡±


    Bart blew a stream of air into the stars above their heads. ¡°So, you didn¡¯t tell me?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t. I still wish you didn¡¯t know because I wish it wasn¡¯t true.¡±


    ¡°Why? You don¡¯t think I¡¯ll understand?¡± he asked, sitting up straighter and brushing the snow off his coat. ¡°You could have told me that first night at the hospital.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll understand or not. All I know is that now that all this is out in the open, you¡¯re going to want to have multiple conversations about it. Should I go skiing tomorrow? Is it safe? What if I dismount the ski lift poorly and it hits me in the back of the head?¡± She put her elbow in the snow and turned on her side. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    If Bart hadn¡¯t been a banker, he might have replied the way Chalmers did. He might have told Maisie that she had to play it safe. If she played it safe¡­ Suddenly, he remembered all the old televisions screens they had packed off to the eco-center. Her aunt had played it safe. She had stayed home, watched TV, and interested herself in a safe hobby like clothes, but she had still died at forty-five.


    The reason being a banker stopped Bart from falling into the same trap as Chalmers was that when he invested money on behalf of his clients, there was risk. Often, there was a lot of risk. Risk was a natural consequence of going for something that had a large reward. The thing that made Bart such a successful banker was that he was unaffected by the risks others took. He put those risks out of his mind when he did his work.


    Looking at Maisie now, he understood why her other men had failed. They weren¡¯t the type who could throw everything they had into one madcap scheme, and they certainly couldn¡¯t throw all of Maisie into it. The truth was that they didn¡¯t want to be responsible. If Maisie died, they didn¡¯t want to pick up the pieces. They didn¡¯t think that the joy of being with her (while they could) outweighed whatever pain was caused when she died.


    But she might not die.


    Just like she said, she might live to eighty. Every minute, doctors got better at treating disorders and diseases. She might be just fine.


    They weren¡¯t willing to take that risk every day for the rest of their lives. Maybe they were afraid they¡¯d end up alone. Maybe they were afraid they¡¯d end up alone with children they needed to parent. Maybe they were afraid they¡¯d be left with children who would die just like their mother.


    Bart swallowed.


    It was a big risk.


    ¡°Maisie,¡± he said, suddenly falling on his back next to her in the frozen martini glass of salt-like snow. ¡°I love you. I bought a ring. I was planning to ask you to marry me.¡±


    She gasped next to him.


    ¡°And I want you to go skiing with me tomorrow. I love skiing and it¡¯s something I want to do with you. Right now, I don¡¯t understand all the limits. Maybe I don¡¯t want to understand them. I understand that being with you is risking everything each day. I can really understand those boys crapping themselves when you don¡¯t answer the phone. What I can¡¯t understand is why they would want to cut themselves off from you. You are the loveliest woman I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    Her breath caught and she didn¡¯t answer him.


    ¡°It could be,¡± Bart said gently. ¡°That the thing I love about you most is how you approach life because you know it¡¯s fleeting in a way they don¡¯t. If every day is a miracle to you, I want to live my life that way too.¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me to marry you?¡± she asked in a hushed whisper.


    He rolled his eyes and looked at the stars. ¡°I have been thinking of what kind of proposal would be best for you. I¡¯ll ask you to marry in any way you want me to. With a thousand balloons?  A thousand candles lit in a heart?  On one knee at the fanciest restaurant in the city?  What dream do you want to come true?¡±


    She rolled over onto him. ¡°I want this.¡±


    He held her and kissed her as the moment lasted.


    Kissing in the cold is a little like kissing a dead person, as their lips are cold like frost, like death, like the future is already past. The stars gleamed in the sky above them and their breath froze like mist. It all reminded them that some things last forever and some things are gone like the breath of a person¡¯s words that disappear in the chill of the night.

 Chapter Eight

    EIGHT


    Bart threw a green tie over the back of his neck.  In the past, he didn¡¯t normally wear bright ties to work, but ever since he married Maisie, he didn¡¯t want to wear his old ties.  The old ones were gray, navy, or dark red.  They had patterns that reminded him of tiled floors or the bricks of a wall.  There would be plenty of time for mourning in his life.  He¡¯d pull the old ties out then.  After all the changes in his life, he wanted bright ties.  They were the one spot on his outfit where he could show how he was feeling.


    That morning, Maisie was asleep.  She had the day off because she had a doctor¡¯s appointment later that morning.  For the first time, she was letting him come along with her.  A grand concession that she only permitted after their wedding.  He just had a few things to do at the office before he came back to pick her up.


    Moving in with her instead of moving her to his mansion on the side of the mountain was a fantastic idea.  It only took a few minutes for Bart to get to work each morning.  He did not realize how much of his life was spent in transit when he lived outside the city¡¯s main cluster. Or how lovely it could be to give away all the things he had in his life just to prove his status.


    What had his status been for anyway?


    If it had only been to prove himself to women he romanced and then discarded after two weeks, then that had been a pathetic way to live his life.  He told himself that he had to do things like that in the past to secure the best clients, to impress his bosses, and to enhance the glamor of his position for the people who worked under him.  After marrying Maisie, it turned out he didn¡¯t need any of those things¡ªcomparing people to animals and amusing himself with a constant flow of criticism only to convince himself of his superiority.  Now people were people, including him.  The lone wolf that he had been had evaporated.  He was a man with a woman like  cut crystal between his fingers.  He loved the change in himself almost as much as he loved Maisie.


    He and Maisie had their wedding at his mansion on the side of the mountain.  It was beautiful.


    Bart found out he was the kind of man who cried when his bride came into view in her white wedding dress.  He couldn¡¯t help himself.  She was all in white.  She was all for him like a present that had all of life wrapped up inside.  It was the most precious moment of his life.


    Bart also insisted that Maisie invite her ex-fiance, Chalmers, to the wedding.


    Under normal circumstances, Bart would have thought that doing such a thing would be unnecessary and something people did only to make themselves completely wretched, but Bart twisted it on its head by explaining that they needed to show her ex-fiance that Maisie was going to be okay.  Chalmers needed to see the moment when she married someone else, landed in the arms of someone capable and came to a home he could never give her.


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    It was something Bart said would comfort him and let him know that she forgave them.


    Bart wondered if he had made the right choice when Chalmers took his seat at the wedding without a plus one, but the ex-fiance looked at Maisie the way someone looked at an angel.  An angel is a person who brings a message from God.  In her case, she brought a message about life and joy through difficulty.  Chalmers couldn¡¯t be the man for her, but Bart thought, as he admired her in her wedding dress, as he watched her twirl in her first dance with her new husband, that somehow he would be a better man because he knew her.


    Chalmers didn¡¯t cause a scene or even act sore.


    He stood up after the first dance and spoke to Bart for a moment.  He approached, congratulated Bart, and turned to leave.  But at the last moment, he paused and asked Bart one last question.  ¡°What makes you different from me?  What makes you able to handle all this?¡±


    Bart brushed his hair off his forehead in a sideways motion that people usually use at their neck to make a motion of someone getting their head cut off.  ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± he said casually.  He wanted to look cool if nothing else.  ¡°I¡¯m just greedier than you.¡±


    Chalmers had not expected that.  He did a double-take.  ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means that greedy people know that what they collect cannot last.  Boats sink, houses burn down, cars crash, and money shrinks.  We know that the best things in life cannot last.  We don¡¯t expect them to.  We still buy the boat, the house, and the car, and we don¡¯t shrink back because our hopes and dreams will one day end up at the bottom of the ocean.  Your greed just wasn¡¯t as strong as mine.¡±


    Chalmers¡¯ mouth twisted.  ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.  It¡¯s not greed.  It¡¯s something else.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bart questioned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you can¡¯t sell me on the idea that you¡¯re doing this because you¡¯re a greedy millionaire.¡±


    ¡°I am a millionaire,¡± Bart answered calmly.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Chalmers chirped.  It was clear from the look on his face that he did not believe Bart.


    ¡°This is my house,¡± Bart explained.  ¡°You should see my cars.  You should see my truck.  I have a boat, but it¡¯s been out of the water for a few years.  I can¡¯t seem to find the time, and now I won¡¯t¡­¡± his voice trailed off as his eyes found Maisie.


    She was talking to Nina and laughing, her bouquet jiggling in her hand as her body shook with joy.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Bart said as he covered the space between him and Maisie.


    ¡°I have to have another dance,¡± he said as he pulled her into his arms.  ¡°Dance with me again.  I want to make your dress twirl.¡±


    Maisie bounced a little in his arms as he took her back onto the dancefloor.  He kissed her hand to show how much he adored her, and then he twirled her, making the iridescent beads on her dress shine in the late evening light.


    ¡°I never want tonight to end,¡± she whispered to him when he pulled her back into his arms.


    ¡°Tonight is never going to end,¡± he replied.  ¡°Tomorrow morning will still be tonight and tomorrow afternoon will still be tonight and even if we go to sleep and wake up again, it will still be tonight.¡±


    She kissed him to stop him from saying enigmatic nonsense.


    Except it was not nonsense.  It was the way things were.  That night never ended.


    Not even once.


    THE END