Foolish Notions Read online

  Foolish Notions

  by

  Aris Whittier

  Copyright © 2010 by Aris Whittier

  Published by Five Star

  facebook.com/ArisWhittier

  Twitter @ArisWhittier

  http://awhittier.blogspot.com/

  Email: ariswhittier@gmail

  Other Books by Aris Whittier

  Fatal Embrace

  Secrets

  Across Eternity

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “You can’t be serious mom,” James Taylor said as he absentmindedly unbuttoned his double-breasted suit with his thumb and forefinger. His hand then moved to his neck and loosened the khaki silk tie that felt like it was slowly constricting around his throat, strangling him. Silently, he stared at the floor and reluctantly let the words sink in.

  Marie sucked in a deep breath and shot her son a pleading look. “I’m afraid I am.”

  “Mom.” He looked at her for a few seconds. “You know I’ll do anything for you—”

  “But not this,” Marie said hesitantly.

  “We’ll find another way.”

  “But this is the best way. We can make it work.”

  James paced at the foot of the bed as he ran a hand over the day’s worth of stubble on his chin and pondered over the recommendation again. He knew without a doubt that the suggestion was not only illogical but also impossible. “I’m sorry, but it’s not an option.”

  “Why?” Marie’s tone was soft.

  “Because.” He answered tiredly. He had left for New York at the break of dawn, spent four hours in a meeting that should have taken two, and then the company jet had been grounded for an hour because of mechanical difficulty. He hadn’t slept on the flight home because he found he was more productive when alone in the jet. Now, he was thinking that he should’ve just slept. Maybe all this wouldn’t seem so unbelievable if he had. The relief, which had consumed him when he touched down in Los Angeles, had been short-lived. If he’d known about the bombshell his mom was going to drop on him when he got home, he might have never stepped foot off the plane.

  “What kind of answer is ‘because’?”

  His mom’s words drew James back from his wandering thoughts. “It’s the kind of answer that’s given when something isn’t possible.”

  “Anything is possible, Son,” Marie said logically. “You of all people know that.”

  He shook his head. “Not this.”

  To avoid the disappointment in her eyes, he glanced around the room, which had been redecorated several weeks ago when she had moved in. The curtains were antique lace with a swirling rose pattern throughout. He had known she would love them the moment he’d laid eyes on them. They allowed the warm sunshine and the soft breeze drifting off the ocean to pass through the delicate weave with ease. The carpet was cream-colored and so plush it felt like you were walking on air. He had only the best installed.

  The adjoining bathroom had been refitted for her needs. He had also had a television and small refrigerator, stocked with her favorite juices and water, put in. He’d tried to make it like a small apartment or, at the very least, a dorm. He wanted everything to be convenient for her.

  Some people collected teddy bears or small figurines, but his mom’s passion was roses. It didn’t matter if they were living or not. She surrounded herself with their beauty. Not wanting his mom to lose the delight she derived from the roses when she moved in, James had the decorator hang massive pictures of roses and gardens on every wall. He had also made sure that she had fresh flowers in her room daily. It was the least he could do for her. He had done everything but physically force her to move in with him.

  “It is possible, James,” Marie insisted, lifting her hands in frustration.

  He looked at his mom, who sat against the headboard, supported by several pillows as she spoke. “I’ve tried to do everything to accommodate you, but this can’t be done.”

  She tried to reach for him as he walked back and forth. “You’ve been wonderful. Please, don’t get me wrong, I—”

  “We’ll find another nurse to take care of you.”

  “We’ve already interviewed a dozen nurses.”

  “It’s been more than a dozen,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “I’m running out of time, James. In just one more week—”

  “I know what happens in just one more week,” he snapped, as he stopped suddenly.

  James turned to his mother. It didn’t matter how many days or weeks passed; every time he thought about or heard someone say his mom had cancer he wanted to vomit.

  Abruptly, he bowed his head in shame. How could he have snapped at her like that? The strain of constantly worrying about her health was creating an uncontrollable nervous tension within him. Combine that with the fact that over the last week he hadn’t slept more than a few hours each night. And now his mom was asking for the impossible. No wonder he was stressed. Actually, stressed was an understatement. He was ready to erupt. “I think you’re being a little hard on them. Not all of them could be as bad as you say.”

  “They’re not bad, they’re just not right.” Marie tugged at the pillow behind her. “Don’t you want me to have the best care possible?”

  “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” He took a seat next to her. “I love you. I want what’s best for you.”

  “Then hire Samantha; she’s what’s best for me.”

  James allowed his head to sink into his hands. He was fighting a losing battle. He didn’t want to fight. Not now, not with what they were going through, and not with what they were about to go through in a few days. He raised his head and looked at his mom. She looked tired and weak. Her hair was a limp, lifeless white. New, small lines seemed to etch their way across her face at remarkable speed. Her lovely brown eyes had lost their sparkle, which had been present for as long as he could remember. The toll the cancer was taking on her body was painfully evident.

  When he reached for her hand and took it in his, he realized that it was cold and much too thin. Why couldn’t he just scoop her into his arms and make everything better? He was used to making things better; that’s what he did. If there was a problem, he solved it. If he couldn’t solve it, he went around it. If it couldn’t be avoided, he manipulated it until it went his way. But not this. No amount of solving or manipulating was going to fix this.

  He felt her softly squeeze his fingers and he smiled tenderly before he spoke. “My secretary faxed me over another list of nurses this morning. I went over it and there are a few that we haven’t interviewed yet. I’ll give them a call and set up some interviews for tomorrow.”

  Marie nodded. “What about work? I know you’re busy. Did you get everything taken care of in New York?”

  Busy didn’t even being to describe what he was up against. Weeks of work had piled up. He was so behind that it didn’t matter now. “Yes, most if it is taken care of. I won’t have to go back to New York for a while.” He was supposed to fly to Seattle tomorrow but he would send someone else. �
��I’ll take the day off.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked wearily.

  “Of course.” He kissed the backside of her hand and then held it against his cheek briefly before he stood. “I’m going to make the calls.” He reached for the door and turned back and looked at her. “You get some rest. I’ll check in on you in a bit.”

  “James?”

  “Yes?”

  “If they don’t work out, can we call Samantha?”

  He remained silent for a moment as he stared at the floor. Finally he looked up. “We’ll talk about it, if or when that time comes.”

  “I’m not trying to make this hard on you.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom.” He closed the door quietly.

  James didn’t go straight to his office—instead he went down the long hall to his bedroom. He changed from his suit into cotton socks, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. It felt good to get out of his work clothes.

  He moved to the window across from his bed and stared at the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean. He felt the tension between his shoulders slack and his clenched jaw relaxed. The calming sensation that was generated by the vast body of water moved to his stomach muscles and swept throughout the rest of him. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been or how uptight he’d gotten until now.

  The window opened with a gentle slide and he was greeted with a light, salty breeze. He leaned against the window frame, and thought about what his mom had suggested. She wanted his ex-girlfriend to move in with them and take care of her when she was going through her treatment. Boy, he hadn’t seen that one coming.

  “Samantha.” He hadn’t spoken her name in over a year. Her beautiful face appeared before him, her hair swirling in the waves, her eyes glistening in the whitecaps. The echoing of her name penetrated his ears as each wave crashed against the beach, and slowly drifted out again. It was as if the foamy surf spoke her name, calling her, pleading for her to come back.

  The suede-colored sand, which stretched on for miles, reminded him of her skin. The crisp blue of the sky was reminiscent of her eyes. And the air, which smelled like a tropical paradise, was the scent of her body. It had taken him a long time not to see her in everything that was beautiful, in everything that meant something to him. He drew in a long breath, breathing her in.

  He had met Samantha at a bar three years ago. She was out celebrating, with some classmates, their recent graduation from nursing school. He was celebrating his new position at Parker & Wells with some colleagues, when he saw her come through the door. She was breathtaking. He had never been so struck by a woman before. He couldn’t decide what he liked best about her as he watched her move across the room. Could it be her brilliant smile, the way she tossed her head when she spoke, her laugh that rang throughout the room, or the lazy way she drank her beer? He didn’t know if it was one or a combination of all these things, but she was mesmerizing. A solid elbow to his ribs from his friend Rick drew him out of his trance.

  “Are you going to drool all over yourself or are you going to talk to her?”

  James took a swig of his beer and shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter.

  “I saw the way you were looking at her. I think you’re in love.” Rick puckered his lips and blew a few kisses in the air as he gave Ed a high five.

  “Come on, I wasn’t looking at her. Besides she looks young enough to be my daughter.”

  Ed laughed. “What’s wrong with that?”

  James glanced back at the young woman who had captured his attention so completely. She was sitting in a booth directly across the room from him. She was intently listening to a member of her party speak. He watched her nod, smile, and then affectionately reach for the other woman’s hand. She then stretched across the table to give a sentimental hug before they all started laughing again. James made a mental note that she was a touchy-feely type, before Rick’s words drew him back to the group.

  “What’s the matter, is our new CEO shy? What happened to the tough son-of-a-bitch that bullied his way to the top?”

  He looked back across the smoke-filled bar. Why couldn’t he keep his eyes off her? Beautiful women were a dime a dozen, so he knew it wasn’t just her beauty. Although she was exceptional, he admitted. It was something else he couldn’t put his finger on. But there was definitely something different about her.

  He watched intently, as the nameless beauty sat with her arms crossed in front of her. Her long blond hair was tucked behind her ears as not to obscure her golden complexion. Her face was nude of makeup, or at least that was how it appeared.

  He watched as she lifted the long-neck beer bottle to her sun-kissed peach lips.

  Ed leaned over. “If you’re not going to go over there and talk to her, I’m gonna.” He smiled wickedly. “As it stands right now she’s fair game.”

  James’s eyes remained fixed on the young woman. “Fair game for what? You’re married.”

  “Point being?”

  For this, James broke his gaze, looked to Ed, and raised a brow. “You’re bad.” He shook his head. “I don’t think Barbara would appreciate hearing you say that.”

  Ed’s grin was a mile wide. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  As the guys laughed, James looked back to the woman, who was now sitting alone. Her friends had moved to the small, wooden dance floor in the middle of the room. Turning to the bartender he said, “Two beers.” He tossed some money on the bar, took the beers, and grabbed a basket of pretzels. He paused momentarily to look at his friends. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  “Go get her, boss,” they said in unison.

  James slid into the empty seat across from her with confidence. She was even more beautiful up close. “Drink?” he asked, as he held the beer in front of her.

  Slowly, blue eyes turned on him. “Got one.”

  James’s eyes settled on hers. He liked the fact that she wasn’t intimidated easily. The last thing he wanted in a woman was meekness. He found that just the opposite made for a much more interesting, though slightly more turbulent, relationship. He watched her raise her beer in a nonchalant manner as she drove her point home.

  Somehow he managed to hide his smile as she set her drink back down. She could act unimpressed all she wanted, but James caught the intense sparkle in her eyes and knew that she was anything but indifferent. He slid the drink in front of her anyway.

  “Save it for later.”

  “Later?” she asked curiously.

  “Yeah, later.” Before he finished his sentence, she looked at her friends on the dance floor, completely disregarding his comment and the offered beer.

  With her attention on something else, he was able to focus on her profile, without appearing to be ogling. The dim corner booth and the lights on the dance floor made for a perfect silhouette of her face. There was a delicate slope to her nose and he could see her long lashes brush her cheek each time she blinked. The dark outline softened as it contoured at her chin and curved slightly higher at her cheek. He cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to let her blow him off that easily. Besides, he was having way too much fun to stop.

  She looked at him.

  “Pretzel?” He gestured toward the basket he had brought with him.

  Never taking her eyes off him, she reached to her left for the basket of pretzels. She waved them before him. Dropping them, she said, “Got one.”

  “Ride home?” This time he didn’t give her enough time to look away.

  “Got one.” She took a swig of her beer.

  “Boyfriend?” He was waiting for the “got one,” and when he didn’t hear it his confidence grew. He drew his gaze from her eyes to her mouth, where a touch of a smile was apparent. She moistened her plump lips with the tip of her tongue. They were lips that some women, women he knew, paid thousands for.

  After a long, slow drink, James leaned in and spoke. “How about I give you something that you don’t . . .
got?”

  She moved forward, leaning in, pretending she was interested. “I think I pretty much have everything. Thanks anyway.”

  It was his turn to take a pretzel. He played with it, shifting it from one hand to the next until it was a pile of broken pieces. “So, you’re saying you have everything you want?”

  She appeared to be biting her tongue not to smile. “It seems that way.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing.”

  She puckered her lips. “Is that so?”

  He raised a single brow, hooked a finger around the beer bottle’s long neck, and took a drink. His bottle chimed against the table when he set it down.

  “And just what might that be?”

  He sat back with bold smugness and said, “Me.”

  She raised a perfectly arched brow and contemplated for a moment. “Does ‘me’ have a name?”

  “James Taylor.”

  “Well, Mr. James Taylor, and just what is it that you got, and you think I need?”

  “You’ll find out in due time.”

  Her lips broadened into a soft smile. “Your confidence is”—she looked heavenward as she contemplated—“paramount.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, it’s my greatest weapon.”

  “Weapon for what?”

  “My line of business.”

  “Perhaps you can tell me about your line of business sometime.” She paused for a moment. “I’m Samantha.”

  James broke a smile too and extended his hand across the table. “Samantha. I like that.”

  “Is this how you approach all women?” she asked cautiously.

  James shook his head and took a drink. “No, you’re the first.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s good to know.”

  “Does it work?”

  She stuck her tongue in the side of her cheek as she thought. “It might.”

  His thumb tapped against the table with the beat of the music. “When will you let me know?”

  “By the end of the night.”

  That was good enough for him. “How come you’re not out on the dance floor?” He looked over to the group that she had come with.

  She straightened her leg so it poked out from beneath the table. “I broke it two months ago. I just got the cast off yesterday. I don’t want to push my luck, so I’m sitting this one out.”