Chapter Seven
"Why don't you tell me what you're looking for," the kind middle aged woman instructed Marissa warmly, "and then, from there, I'll narrow down my list, and we'll go and take a look at some of these properties, get this dream of yours rolling."
They were sitting together in the realtor's small, cheerful office early one afternoon. Outside of the one, lone window that let the world beyond the office in, the late winter sunlight broke through the clouds and the rain ceased to fall. It was as if the world was trying to encourage Marissa, showing her that what she was doing, the step she was taking to better herself, was the right decision; it felt as if the sun was shining just for her, as if it were a good omen.
"I'm really quite flexible," Marissa answered. "I'm not looking for something that is ready made for me. If I have to do some remodeling, that's fine. I'll probably want to anyway to make it feel as if it really is mine, but there are a few things I would like in the building."
"Well, fire away, give me your list."
"I guess the most important aspect," Marissa revealed, "is that I would like there to be living quarters or at least enough adaptable space on the second floor to make an apartment. The idea that I could leave work and simply walk up a flight of stairs and be home sounds so appealing to me."
The realtor sighed at the idea. "That would be nice," she agreed, "especially when there's bad weather. Plus, you wouldn't have to fight traffic everyday, and it pretty much guarantees that you'll never be late for work."
"And it would be mine, you know," Marissa expanded, lost in her dream, "the whole building would belong to me."
"What else is on your list," the compassionate woman asked, smiling at her client's enthusiasm.
"Other than that," Marissa continued, "I'd just like it to be bright and cheerful with a lot of natural light. Oh, and of course we'll have to keep my budget in mind," she chuckled. "I might have been saving for this for a few years, but my pockets aren't that deep."
"Your budget is fine," the realtor admonished her gently as she typed in Marissa's prerequisites into her database of available properties in order to narrow down their search, "and your credit is superb. As soon as we find the right building for you, there will be banks lining up to offer you a loan."
They sat in silence for a moment while the older woman continued to work and Marissa bit her lip anxiously, eagerly waiting to hear all about the buildings they were going to tour that afternoon. She had a vision in her mind of what she wanted, what colors she would paint every room of her apartment and her work space, what her new business would be called, and just exactly how she would give a very special person in her life the grand tour as soon as she bought it. Smiling at the thought of them working late into the night remodeling her new home and his home away from home, she couldn't wait to have a space that truly felt like theirs together. He would be so proud of her, she just knew it, and that thought more than any of the others made her fingers and toes tingle out of anticipation. No matter what, everything was going to be perfect. For once, everything was going her way, and nothing was going to stop her from getting everything she wanted and that included both her old dream and her new one: her own business and Ryan all to herself.
"So, Miss Cooper," the realtor startled Marissa out of her thoughts, "it looks like we have a busy day ahead of us. There are nine properties I wanted to look at in Seattle this afternoon, and, if none of those work for you, I found a few more in the outlying suburbs of the city."
"It sounds great," Marissa replied enthusiastically, standing up and sliding her coat on her delicate frame effortlessly. "Tell me about the first one."
"Well, it's pre-turn of the century, brick, and down town in the historical district. Now, it is three stories, but, if you liked it, the third level could function as a rental property for you, because there is an outside entrance for it, or storage. The heating and electrical throughout the whole building have been remodeled within the past five years. Now the windows, however, are original to the building which means they still have the lead panes, and they do not open."
"Oh, I like those," Marissa interjected enthusiastically. "They have so much more charm than new, generic windows. Often the glass is imperfect, so, when the light catches it, you get beautiful rainbows that shine into the room. Would there be anyway to keep those?"
"The building has central air, too, so there's no need to get rid of the windows."
Walking out of the office together, the older woman stopped briefly to shut and lock the door quickly before they continued on their way out to her car. Both talking back and forth animatedly, sharing pieces of information about the various properties they would be seeing and offering opinions about the details of the buildings, they disappeared into the bright winter light excited for the task at hand and completely in sync. It was going to be a good working relationship.
Waiting patiently was not something Caitlyn Cooper was adept at. It had taken her several weeks to fight the pros and cons of the phone calls she was making, and, now that she had made the decision to go through with it, she needed to say what was on her mind as soon as possible. She knew he always carried his cell on him, that had become quite obvious when Marissa had been staying with her during Christmas and would call him at all hours of the night, so her instincts told her he was screening her call and hesitating about whether or not he should answer. Typical spineless wimp, she complained silently to herself as she heard his voicemail pick up. What she was about to say might be playing dirty, but she was in no mood to adhere to the rules of polite society.
After listening to his bland, basic, sleep inducing voice mail greeting, she started speaking as soon as the annoyingly shrill beep sounded in her ear. "Ryan pick up your damn phone. This is Caitlyn, Marissa's sister…although you probably already know that. There's something wrong…" And that's all she got out before picked up, breathless and agitated with worry.
"What, what is it? What's wrong with her?"
"Hm," Caitlyn taunted him, "I wonder if you would be this concerned if I was calling about Theresa…your WIFE."
Snapping at her, he responded, "I'm not in the mood for your games. Just cut to the chase. Is there something wrong with Marissa?"
"Yes, there's something wrong with her," she replied hastily, unable to keep the hostility out of her voice. "She's twisting her heart around for a married man, putting her life on hold while she waits for him to decide just exactly who he wants. She's being jerked around by someone who is too afraid to face his own feelings, and, because of that, she's going to get hurt, and that is something I won't let happen if I can help it."
"Does your sister know you're calling me, because, frankly, this is none of your business, Caitlyn, and I know she'd agree with me on this? Listen, I don't have time for your self-righteous, judgmental act," Ryan continued without letting her respond to his question, "so I'm going to hang up. Do not call me again."
"If you hang up that phone," she threatened, "I'll call your house, and, if that doesn't get your attention, does the name 'Saccharine Dreams' sound familiar?"
By the intake of his breath, Caitlyn could tell she had caught him off guard just as she had intended. "How the hell did you find that out?"
"What," she asked innocently, "the name of your wife's bakery? Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, for a journalist, you're really not very smart, are you? It was actually quite easy to find out. All I had to do was type her name in, and, voila, all the information I could ever need to contact her appeared right before my very own eyes. Would you like me to read the phone number to the shop out loud to you to prove that I can get in contact with her whenever I want, or can we stop playing these games and talk about what I called for?"
"What do you want, Caitlyn?"
"I want to know just exactly how you feel about my sister, I want to know who you intend to choose, either your wife or your almost-mistress, and I want a time table as for when you're going to quit pussy footing around, finally grow some, be a man, and make a decision."
Dismissively, she heard him reply, "your sister and I are just friends, so this conversation is not only inappropriate but unnecessary as well."
"Well your friend," she retorted snidely, "is in love with you. Did you know that?" His prolonged silence was the only answer she needed. "I thought so. And you're telling me that you don't think you're hurting her, letting her fall deeper and deeper in love with you while you don't even attempt to end your marriage and encourage her feelings at the same time?"
Caitlyn heard him sigh in an exhausted manor, imagining him tiredly rubbing his stressed and conflicted face. "This isn't just a black and white issue, Caitlyn," he told her almost as if he was trying to convince himself. "There's more to this; it's complicated."
"See," she argued, "I don't think it is. There's only really one question you have to ask yourself. You don't have to answer this out loud, because you're the only one, for now, who needs to know what the answer is, but who do you love, my sister or your wife, and I'm not talking about friendship love, but love of my life, want to spend every single waking moment with said person, want to make love to them all day long, want them to carry your children kind of love. Once you admit that to yourself, the rest is really simple. If it's Theresa, then you end things with my sister, forget you ever met her, and go back to your life as it was before that fateful plane ride a few months ago. Or, and this is what I suspect, if it's Marissa, you need to leave your wife, start divorce proceedings as soon as possible, and tell her how you feel. This…limbo the three of you are in isn't fair to any of you. It's not fair to your wife, because you're practically having an affair and leading her on to believe that your marriage is stable and that you want to be with her, it's not fair to Marissa, because she's falling more and more in love with you every day, and there is no guarantee she'll have those feelings reciprocated like she deserves, there's no guarantee that she'll be happy when this is all decided, and it's not fair to you, because you're not being true to your own heart. Stop worrying about what's right and wrong, what society expects of you, stop being afraid of making the wrong decision and just make one. If you don't do something soon, no one is going to get what they want, and everyone is going to end up broken and alone. However, Marissa will have me to comfort her, Theresa will have her friends and her bakery, but what the hell will you have?"
And with that, she hung up the phone, satisfied with what she had said and hoping she had made a difference. Unfortunately, she feared her words had fallen on deaf ears.
It was later that week; the weekend had arrived, and Saturday afternoon found Ryan and Marissa running errands together. He was in town for a few days wanting to see her before he left for Florida where he would be covering spring training and then preseason baseball. Just as the day had been while Marissa had been scurrying all over town looking at available commercial properties, the sun was out, the weather was mild, and she felt as if the day was specifically designed for her enjoyment. The sky was literally smiling down on them.
"You know," Ryan teased her, his voice low so as not to disturb the other customers in line waiting to pick up their dry cleaning, "it would have made more sense to pick this up last."
"Why would it bother me to bring my dry cleaning along with us," she played along, batting her eyelashes at him, "when you'll be the one carrying all of it." His mock indignation made her giggle with glee, the simple banter they enjoyed back and forth bringing a warm, resplendent glow to her beautiful face. "Oh come on, don't give me that look," she motioned to his pout. "You're a big, strong guy, and you know the chivalrous gentleman in you wants to take care of little ol' miniature me. I promise to make it worth your while."
"You sound pretty confident, Cooper. What exactly do you think you have that I want that much?"
Saucily, she turned her back to him and walked to the counter for it was her turn and spoke over her shoulder. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see when we get home."
Their conversation was anything but innocent, their words laced with innuendoes and flirtatious connotations, but they were having too good of a time to question whether or not their actions were wrong, whether or not they were exposing their weakness for each other and opening themselves up for heartache. So their repartee continued from store to store, errand to errand, lost in each other and oblivious to the amused glances other patrons would send in their direction. To the outside world they were the perfect couple, but, inside their own private existence, it was achingly obvious to Marissa that they were anything but.
"This was such a great idea," Marissa gushed as she wandered around the video store. She had no idea how she was going to make up her mind and limit her selections. Just as she wanted to share all of herself with Ryan, that meant wanting to watch all her favorite movies with him.
Ryan merely complained. "I have a feeling there is going to be an infusion of pink on the television screen tonight." Too answer him, she stuck her tongue out and continued to browse the shelves. "Do I get to pick any," he asked. Looking over at him, she noticed he kept shifting the dry cleaning which was slung over his shoulder, and she had to stifle a giggle at how uncomfortable he was.
"Next time," she promised pulling him along with her through the various aisles. "Besides," she pointed out confidently, "I'm too innocent for those kind of movies." Motioning with her eyes, she drew his attention to the adult section of the store, and she couldn't help laugh at how wide his eyes got. "Oh calm down, I'm sure you prefer your own private stash anyway."
"I…um…uh…are you always this cheeky?"
Leaving him behind her, she replied breezily, "only around you," and continued to make her selections.
By the time they left the rental store, an hour later much to Ryan's dismay, he was carrying her movie picks along with the dry cleaning as they made their way towards the grocery store. What she had chosen had actually surprised him for it showed a very wide and varied taste, but, yet again, she always managed to amaze him. It was just another part of her undeniable charm.
"So, how adventurous are you feeling for dinner tonight," Ryan asked her as he pushed her around in the shopping cart at the grocery store. She sat inside it, contently eating a giant lollypop, reading a celebrity magazine, and offering her input to their purchases whenever she felt it was necessary. Her dry cleaning and their movies occupied the coveted front seat of the cart. "Do you want to really test those newfound cooking skills I've been instilling in you?"
They already had a wide assortment of junk food littered around Marissa's folded up form, frozen pizzas, cheese sticks, and breaded mushrooms, various bags of chips and pretzels, numerous boxes of cookies and desserts, and, of course, several gallons of ice cream, her favorite late night treat. To her, they were set for the next few days, but Ryan clearly had other things in mind to amuse their palettes and keep their hunger at bay. Luckily, the grocery store was just a block away from her apartment.
"Um…I'm up for a cooking lesson tonight as long as it won't take us too long to make whatever you had in mind and you wash the dishes."
"Why am I doing all the manual labor," Ryan complained. First, you make me carry your laundry, then I had to carry the movies…."
"And they were SO heavy," she interrupted his complaints to taunt him.
He continued after shooting her a playfully dirty look. "And now you want me to wash the dishes, too. I suppose you also expect me to carry home all the groceries as well?"
Hearing him refer to her apartment as home just as she had hoped he would since she had given him the key at Christmas made her smile up at him warmly. Hooking her finger, she motioned for him to lower his face to her level. Gazing into his eyes, they were both silent simply enjoying the moment while it lasted, but, eventually, she broke it, reaching up and pinching his cheek mischievously as she talked. "Aw, that's a great idea, Ryan," she gushed in reference to his comment that he would have to carry the groceries as well. "Thanks for volunteering."
Smirking at her audacity, he leaned in further until the point where their hot, tempting breaths on each other lips caused goosebumps to raise on their vulnerable flesh. Heart rates were elevated, eyes were wide with anticipation, and chests were heaving in excitement. "You will pay for that," Ryan finally whispered, his tone barely audible and husky with desire. It took everything in Marissa to hold herself back and not kiss him then and there surrounded by bustling shoppers and clerks.
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Take it however you want," he responded with a smile. Again, they just remained close, their senses heightened and ready for whatever the other did next, but then Ryan pulled away, and, although he was still smiling, Marissa could see in his eyes that he had shut down, that he would no let them get as close to crossing a line they had both agreed must remain in place. "So," he changed the subject, "what do you think about vegetable and kielbasa packets on the grill? We could go on the roof, cook up there, and then have a picnic.
Nodding her head to show her concurrence with his idea, she went back to her magazine and candy as Ryan wandered around the store picking up all the various items they would need for their dinner. As they were checking out though, Marissa decided she wasn't going to let their almost kiss bother her. After all, Ryan was there with her in Seattle, it was a gorgeous evening, and she felt more alive than she had in years.
Skipping ahead of a burdened down Ryan, Marissa twirled and danced through the streets of her neighborhood. By the time they made their way home, it was dark, so the sidewalks were fairly empty and she was free to amuse herself any way she could.
"Hey, why don't you come back here and walk with me," Ryan suggested, calling up ahead to her. When she turned around to look at him with a questioning look on her face, she heard him laugh before continuing to talk. "I promise I won't try to get you to carry anything." That was all she needed to hear, so she made her way to his side.
"What's up?"
"Well," he started hesitantly. She could tell he was nervous about what he was about to say, and that made her even more curious. "I've been thinking."
"That's always a good sign," she joked, elbowing him softly in the ribs to show she was merely in jest.
Plunging ahead with his topic, he just smiled at her comment before letting her into his mindset. "So, when you take vacations, you always go to Ohio to see your sister; you never do anything fun."
"Going to see Caity is fun," Marissa argued.
"You know what I mean," he excused her response. "Anyway, I was thinking that, if you can get off of work, maybe you'd like to join me in Florida not this next weekend by the one after. Hopefully by then I'll have most of my work finished, and we could just hang out, go to the beach, sight see."
She had not been expecting this. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be? It'll be fun and something new for us to do. We know we get along in Seattle, but how do we fare on the East Coast?"
Through giggles at his ridiculously pointless comment, she said, "well, when you put it that way, how could a girl say no? I'll have to check with my boss, but I don't think it'll be a problem." Smiling impishly up at him, she pondered out loud, "whatever shall I pack?"
Meanwhile, another woman close to Ryan was shopping, but she was all by herself, lonely, and not enjoying the experience. It had been a long day at work, the stress completely ruining her escape from her ever failing marriage, and so she had rewarded herself with a shopping trip to LA that night. After all, she had no one to go home to. Her husband was out of town, once again working in Seattle, he was still avoiding the issue of children, and she didn't even have a pet to keep her company. Arms laden down with purchases, she struggled through the large shopping center her mind clouded with disturbing thoughts, her eyes cast to the floor as she watched her feet take each step towards the parking lot. Suddenly though, her movements were interrupted as someone forcefully walked into her, their abrupt jarring motions sending her bags scattering across the floor.
"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately even though she wasn't sure whose fault the bodily collision was. Before she could help it, tears instantly formed in her eyes and she sunk to the ground upset, blinding reaching for her bags to appear busy but not caring if she ever got them all back or not.
"Oh no," the familiar, comforting male voice corrected her, "it was all my fault." When he heard her quiet sobs, he knelt down in front of her and placed a kind hand on her shoulder in an attempt to get her to look at him. "Did I hurt you?" When her eyes finally moved up to meet his gaze, he exclaimed. "Mrs. Atwood!" They didn't know each other well, but he was Ryan's boss, so they saw each other at every work related party they both had to attend.
"Please," she begged still crying, "it's Theresa. We've known each other for how many years now; I think you've definitely earned the right to call me by my first name. Oh, and no, I'm not hurt, but thanks for asking. It's just been one of those days…week….month!
"Why don't you go and sit down on the bench over there," he motioned towards the wooden seat, "and I'll gather up all your packages and bring them over to you. Then we'll have a nice little catch-up chat, you can tell me what's wrong, unburden yourself and, in the process, keep me entertained while my wife does her best to spend my millions."
A few minutes later, they were seated together, and he had even bought them each a cinnamon raison soft pretzel from the little vendor in the mall. His small gesture to buy her that was the first thing that had made her smile genuinely in days.
"Now, Theresa," he said gently, "can you tell me what's wrong? Why were you so upset?"
"Oh, I'm just overreacting," she dismissed her own emotions. "You know how it is. I was lonely, thought some retail therapy might make me feel better, it didn't by the way, and I guess I just broke down. Sorry it had to happen to you."
"Don't apologize. It doesn't bother me. In fact, it's nice rescuing pretty young ladies like yourself; gives an old man like me an ego boost." Even a depressed Theresa couldn't help but laugh at his comment. "I just wish that your husband was here to help you instead. Where is he off to this week anyway," he asked. "I don't pay much attention to the assignments at this point. I let my son run things. As long as the copy reaches my desk by the deadline, that's all I care about."
"Where else," Theresa answered dismally. "He's in Seattle, like always."
"Ah, that's right," Ryan's boss agreed with her, a look of recognition on his face. "I remember my son telling me something about that. Ryan requested all the Seattle assignments."
"He what," Theresa exploded looking at the older man with shock and disbelief on her face. "I've been asking him for years to request all local assignments, and he went and requested all stories for a city hundreds of miles away from me!"
"I just assumed you had family there."
"We don't have any family," she responded while standing up and gathering her packages once again. "Thank you for the pretzel and enlightening me to my husband's deception, but, if you will excuse me, I have some things I need to think about."
She knew she left the flabbergasted man in shock, his mouth hanging upon in surprise and slight panic. It was never his intention to cause on of his best employees marital problems or to wreck a relationship, but his little admission set something in motion that would forever change three people's lives.
None of them, Theresa, Ryan, or Marissa, at that point, could have predicted what was going to happen next.