The Fiche Room Read online

  The Fiche Room

  by Suzie Carr

  For my Honey Bun - I love you so much!

  T.A. Royce (Chum) - Thank you for giving me wings to fly and for being the BEST editor in the world.

  Copyright © 2011, Suzie Carr. All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher.

  Also by Suzie Carr:

  Inner Secrets

  Tangerine Twist

  Two Feet Off The Ground

  Follow Suzie Carr’s blog:

  http://curveswelcomed.blogspot.com/

  Follow Suzie Carr on Twitter: @girl_novelist

  Chapter 1

  Everything had to be elaborate with Colin—a flashy proposal, a ten-tier wedding cake, even that useless tissue paper between the invitation and the reception card, and I just wanted to get the day over with as quickly and easily as possible.

  He had insisted I listen to our potential wedding singer’s angelic voice, so he had arranged for me to meet her on a Saturday morning. I would much rather have spent the start of my day relaxing over my easel, feathering the final brush strokes onto my latest painting, than have to listen to some want-to-be pop singer raise her voice high enough to hit the notes in Ave Maria.

  But, being the good fiancé, I decided to go.

  As I drove down Main Street, I snuck a peek into my favorite art gallery. Oil paintings hung under the ochre glow of soft lighting. I envisioned an entire wall dedicated to my work, my name hanging on a plaque above it. One day I’d get my paintings in there. One day real soon.

  I peeled my eyes away from the blissful scene and back onto the road and standing directly in my path was a scruffy yellow dog. I panicked, of course, and slammed on my brakes, sending my car screeching into a swerve. Clenching the steering wheel, I managed to straighten out and stop. That’s when all hell broke loose. Tires screeched behind me, the faces of pedestrians hung in panic, and then came the crash. The jolt forward, the crunch, the head bob. With my hands still clenched to the steering wheel, I opened my eyes in time to see the dog sniffing the ground as he scurried away untouched by the mayhem.

  I managed to climb out, shaken and a bit nauseous from the smell of burnt rubber.

  “Are you okay?” I heard someone ask.

  I turned. This attractive girl rushed my way. Her dark auburn waves sprung up in unison with each of her dashes.

  “I’m just a little shaken.” I met up with her at my rear bumper. “I’m sorry I stopped short on you.”

  “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I saw the dog crossing the street and I forgot I was driving.”

  She smelled like she had just stepped out of a bubble bath.

  “Well, at least the little guy got away.”

  “Yeah, he was adorable with all those yellow curls, wasn’t he?” A smile blossomed on her face, accentuating the hazel color of her eyes.

  I stood silent like an idiot, mirroring her smile, mesmerized by her beauty, her polished, straight teeth.

  “Are you hurt at all?” She touched my arm, and my insides fluttered. I shifted back a step and her hand dropped.

  “Hurt? No, not at all.”

  A few horns honked behind us. People gathered curbside. The stench of burnt rubber overpowered the usual smell of crabs and fried food.

  She examined my car. “There’s a small dent. I’ll make sure the insurance takes care of it.”

  I reciprocated, checking out hers as well. “Yours is a little bent up, too. I’m sure we can even settle out of insurance so our premiums don’t get jacked up.”

  The woman placed her hands to her slender hips and gazed into my eyes. “It’s a rental car. I took out their insurance, so we’ll just let them take care of everything.” She hesitated before loosening her fix on me.

  I gulped in response.

  “Are you from Annapolis?” she asked me.

  “No, I’m from the next town over. I take it from the rental that you’re not, either?”

  Horns continued to honk and there we stood in the middle of the road like we owned it.

  “I’m from Denver. I’m here on business and am headed to a meeting down the street. I still haven’t had my morning coffee and am about to go insane from caffeine withdrawal.”

  “Caffeine withdrawal isn’t a good thing.”

  “Two things I absolutely can’t go without are chocolate and coffee.” She giggled. “Do you know of a place to get a good cup?”

  “Yes, actually, I do. In fact, there’s a small café a couple blocks from here that’s a local favorite.” I hesitated before spilling the directions. Maybe I could treat her? What was the harm in one cup of coffee and being a few minutes late for the appointment? The woman’s relaxed, easy-going quality intrigued me. I craved this type of lightheartedness right now. My whole existence had come to center around this extravagant wedding and the stressed-out people planning it. “You can follow me, if you want,” I boldly proposed. “With the morning I’m having, I could use another cup.”

  “Wonderful! I think the least I can do is buy you a cup.” She winked at me.

  “We can park down the street.”

  We both climbed back into our respective cars, and drove off. She followed a safe distance behind me, but not too far that I couldn’t catch a glimpse of her silhouette in my rear-view mirror.

  Just a few short minutes later, we arrived. The café, brimming with tourists shouting fancy coffee orders to the attendants behind the green, marbleized counter, energized me. The aroma of sweet nutty and robust flavors stimulated my appetite for my delicious morning necessity.

  I led her over to the shortest line.

  “I’m a boring coffee drinker. I get the plain stuff, medium coffee with a squirt of cream. How about you?” I asked as I reached into my pocketbook to get my wallet.

  She wrapped her lotion-soft hand around my wrist. “I don’t think so. This is my treat.”

  I would’ve countered the offer with more challenge had I not been so weak from the girl’s caressing hold. I cocked my head to one side in agreement, one of my golden tendrils swept across my eye. I left it there momentarily, comforted by its protective shade.

  She loosened her grip, letting her hand slide off my wrist in a slow, methodical movement. I forced a giggle, camouflaging the awkward moment.

  As we waited, she commented on the wall paintings and how they added to the seaside charm of Annapolis. She looked around as though she had entered a whole new world and saw sailboats and fishnets for the first time.

  When it was our turn, she charged forward ordering our coffees.

  “For here or to go?” the girl asked.

  “For here, please,” she said.

  “I might need mine to go,” I said. “I have an appointment that I need to get to in about,” I glanced at my watch, even though I knew exactly how much time I had to spare, “fifteen minutes.”

  “Plenty of time. That is if you can chug?” she asked, winking as she scanned the café for a spot to sit.

  “For here,” I told the order girl.

  “There’s a table by the window,” she said. “Want to grab it and I’ll bring our coffees?”

  I dashed off to save it.

  I settled into the two-topper table alongside the bay window. From there we’d be able to enjoy the quaint pink, yellow, and other bright houses hugging the cobblestone street. The scene always reminded me of a town in America’s “olden days,” the kind of town where the local doctor made house calls and knew your dog’s name. But, the influx of tourists on a daily basis ensured that this lantern-lit street, although structured historically, remained as much a part of contemporary times as Park Avenue in New York City did.

  The
girl walked towards me with two bright-colored, oversized mugs in hand, her polished waves bouncing off her bohemian collared red blouse with each step she took. She had her black leather coat draped over one arm and her red leather pocketbook, with a black and gold appliquéd floral design, dangling from her other. She walked towards me with an energizing skip. With the wide-eyed look of a child on Christmas morning, she scanned the paintings and artifacts covering the walls. Laughing at her own clumsiness as she bumped into our table, she appeared to be a woman truly in love with life.

  “So,” she said, setting the cups on the round table and plopping into the chair across from me, “What’s your name?”

  “Emma. And yours?”

  She extended her hand in formal gesture. “My name is Halendula, but please call me Haley. I have no idea why my parents wanted their first-born daughter’s name to sound like a botanical herb.”

  I shook Haley’s hand. “Sounds like a refreshing botanical herb, at least.”

  “At the rising rate that I’ve been bashing my car into others, the name is not living up to itself.”

  “Well, here’s to a safer driving future for us both.” I raised my mug in a salute gesture.

  She clanked my mug. “I’ll toast to that.”

  I cradled the coffee cup with my hands, massaging its smooth rim with my fingertips, hoping it might somehow relax the nervous jitters in my tummy. “So, what brings you into town, Haley?”

  “Business.” She stirred her coffee. “I work for a clothing designer in Denver and I have a meeting with a well-respected client this afternoon, which means I have to succeed at entertaining her or not dare show my face back at my office come Monday morning.”

  “Sounds stressful,” I said.

  “I love it.” She wrinkled up her nose. “So, how about you? Stress-free job I take it?”

  “Nothing as glamorous as the designing world, just a mundane accounting firm that has lots of white-collared-shirt yuppies waltzing around with their ties too tight.”

  “Mundane.” She sipped, taking this in. “Do you like it?”

  “My dad owns it. So, I’ve turned it into something I can like.”

  Haley leaned in closer, eyes intense with curiosity and whispered, “What’s it like working in an accounting firm?”

  “You don’t really want to know,” I leaned in closer to her, too. “You’re just being polite.”

  She squinted, appearing to consider her answer carefully before allowing it to escape out of her mouth. “You have me figured out already, don’t you?”

  I slid forward even more in my seat, suddenly craving to be closer to this girl’s energy. “Let’s just say, I’m good at pinpointing certain qualities.”

  “The observant type I see.”

  “That’s the investigator in me,” I said.

  “I guess numbers aren’t your only forte.”

  “I’m fairly effective at investigating most anything.”

  Haley reached into her briefcase and pulled out her business card, then handed it to me. “Well, just so you don’t dig up too much dirt on me should you decide you need to reach me for anything, I better hand my info over to you. I’d hate to see you uncover my secrets.”

  I wondered how much she would really hate for me to do that. I seriously doubted at all. I examined the card, which was vibrant and colorful, flowery just like her. Corporate Sales Manager – just as I guessed.

  I dug out my card. “I’m afraid, in comparison, my card is just as plain as an accounting firm can get.” I handed her the white card with black sans-serif print. “Sorry, it’s kind of bent and worn-looking.”

  She glanced at it before sticking it in her pocket. “You know, my ex-girlfriend worked in the world of finance too.”

  I drew my hands from the table, folding them tightly on my lap. I shifted, trying to avoid the amused look on Haley’s face at my sudden need to close in on myself. “I really do need to get going,” I said.

  “Of course.” She rose and extended her hand to shake. “Emma, bumping into you was a pleasure.”

  I shook her hand. “The pleasure was all mine,” I said, clutching my pocketbook strap to my shoulder. I turned to leave.

  “Good luck at that appointment,” she called after me.

  “Thanks, Haley, you too. And have a safe trip back to Denver.”

  Pushing the door open, I walked out onto the sidewalk. I walked with a relaxed stride past the window where I could feel her staring. When I was clear of her view, I broke into a sprint. I was already ten minutes late for the appointment and still five minutes away from the singer’s studio.

  ****

  After accomplishing my list of appointments and to-do items that day, I relaxed in a warm bubble bath preparing for the long night ahead. The scent of lavender ran wild through the steamy air and brought images of Haley to my mind. All day, I wrestled with banishing that sweet smile, that sexy-confidence, and that alluring fragrance from my memory.

  I’d always been secretly attracted to women and admired them at a distance. None had ever sent ripples through me like Haley had. The magnetic pull was both weird and wonderful. Of course, I wasn’t exactly free to indulge in this kind of behavior, regardless how innocent in nature. In fact, I enjoyed very little freedom with running here and there and everywhere, playing the good fiancé. The night ahead would probably prove the most demanding of all.

  Our wedding was a little less than a year away. Planning consumed a lot of time. So, that evening, to escape the stress, Colin took it upon himself to arrange for us to dine out with old friends of his and their wives. To him, such a social situation was relaxing—to me I’d rather calculate my tax returns. But, his two friends were in town for the weekend, and he wanted me to meet them. I hated first meetings. I would pull myself together though and brace for the night because, hey, I was the good fiancé.

  So, I scooped myself up and climbed out of the bath. I attempted to tame my wild curls with gel. After that, I refreshed my makeup, climbed into a new outfit, and opened the door to the bathroom.

  I was ready to go.

  Colin stood at my kitchen counter, reading a newspaper, oblivious to my presence. The guy was blessed with thick brown hair, steel blue eyes, intelligence, and confidence to match. And, since my college freshman year, he was all mine. Now, at twenty-eight years old, I was ninety percent certain I could commit to him for the rest of my life. Ten percent of me still worried if I made the right decision saying yes. Of course, a few months back, when he proposed I didn’t hesitate. That might’ve been largely in part to the hundred people staring at me waiting for an answer. Colin loved being in the spotlight, so logically, he proposed to me with a wide audience of his peers from our office. My dad had invited the entire firm to a company dinner at Lucio’s, a swanky restaurant downtown. The dinner, for what I thought was supposed to be an awards ceremony for outstanding employees, actually turned out to be our proposal celebration, orchestrated entirely by Colin.

  When my dad called Colin up to receive his employee award, he handed him the microphone instead of a plaque. Colin, looking incredibly buffed in his tuxedo, began his oratory with a respectful smile directed in my direction. He requested me to join him on stage to accept his award.

  I’ve always hated attention, and he knew this, so he surely couldn’t have been surprised when I glared at him for putting me on the spot. However, he had this way of coaxing me with his charming grin. So, I inched up to his side. When I got there, he bent down on his knee, took my hand in his, looked deep into my pathetic watery blue eyes and, with perfect articulation, so the crowd could hear, he asked me to be his wife. Under the observant eyes of my co-workers, a wave of pride washed over me. After all, Colin Briggs, a man with respected stature, just asked me to marry him. With tears streaming down my face, more from embarrassment than anything else, I managed to whisper yes. The rest of the evening, we celebrated our engagement in style as we ate, drank, and danced the night away.

  My life h
ad not been the same since.

  ****

  We arrived at the restaurant bar and met up with the other two couples.

  A blonde-haired man, at least a few inches taller than Colin’s six foot frame, planted a good ole’ boy tap on Colin’s back. “Hey, man, what’s going on?”

  Colin stepped back, taking in a full view of his friend. “You’re missing something there, Gary.” Colin jabbed his friend’s well-toned stomach. “Did you stop drinking beer?”

  His friend poked his finger into Colin’s rock hard abdomen. “I’d say I was just trying to make you look bad, but I see you’re still spending every second you have on sit-ups.”

  He rubbed the finely knit cashmere sweater over his stoic stomach with a smug look of pride. “Got that right.” Then, he turned to his other friend and embraced him. “Jodes, what’s going on, man?”

  Jodes, the same height and athletic build as Colin, grimaced and let out an exaggerated grunt, then turned to me. “You need to stop feeding him so much protein. I think he broke my rib.”

  Colin let him go and reached behind his back for me, casting me forward like a puppy he wanted to show off. “Here’s my sweetheart, Emma.”

  I stood vulnerable in front of him, grasping his hands behind my back. Gary and Jodes looked like designer models who just stepped off a Paris runway. I cursed myself for opting to let my springy curls run wild. I should have sleeked them back into a poised twist.

  Gary swept me into a warm hug. “Emma, sweetheart, nice to finally meet you.” Everything from his Rolex watch down to his Armani Mania cologne, added to his style.

  I giggled for no other reason than to release some of my nerves. “Nice to meet you too, Gary.”

  When he loosened his grip, I turned to Jodes.

  “Hi, Emma.” he said, extending his hand and pulling me in to plant a kiss on my cheek. His deep green eyes stood out against his sun-dewed skin. “Don’t worry, I won’t squeeze you. Unlike some people, I have my manners.”