Boo Who (29 page)

“Sounds like the plot to all his novels,” Ainsley said, laughing. Wolfe, however, shot her a look that indicated he didn’t find the humor in it. Her laughter faded, and luckily for Dr. Hass, so did the present conversation.

“So,” he said quickly, “what brings you two by?”

Ainsley cleared her throat and said, “Well, we’re supposed to be married in less than a month, and there are some issues we’re trying to work through. Maybe that’s putting it lightly.”

Dr. Hass noticed Wolfe was giving his attention to the wall where Napoleon hung. “Napoleon,” he mumbled, glancing at Dr. Hass. “Interesting choice of art.”

The doctor smiled up at his inspiration. “Well, sometimes there’s more to a person than meets the eye.”

“True,” Wolfe said. “Did you know that Napoleon was ailurophobic?”

“What’s that mean?” Ainsley asked.

“He feared cats,” Dr. Hass answered. “But let’s get to the fears you two are obviously facing in light of your upcoming wedding.”

Wolfe sighed, finally turning his attention from the framed poster. He looked at Ainsley, suggesting that he’d rather she explain it all.

“All right,” she sighed. “It’s like this. We are happily in love, can’t wait to get married, but things have dramatically changed in our lives, and we’re both having trouble dealing with that.”

“What has changed?”

“Well, Wolfe has decided to stop writing, so he’s trying to find a new niche in life. It’s not going so well. He got fired from selling cars.”

“I see. Suppressed homogeneity neurosis.”

“And I’m trying to pursue a new career in the entertainment-home-making business, and it’s taking up a lot of my time. Wolfe’s having a hard time with this.”

Wolfe shook his head. “Let’s be clear. I completely support Ainsley in whatever she does. However, we’re supposed to be planning our wedding, and she’s been so busy with all this other stuff that it’s been pushed aside.”

“It hasn’t been pushed aside! He’s afraid we’re not going to have a wedding! I’m capable …
perfectly capable
… of juggling more than one thing, Wolfe.”

“Then why hasn’t anything been done that is supposed to be?”

“It’s just been shifted around, that’s all.”

Dr. Hass held up his hands. “Okay, listen, let’s start over here. I think the best thing both of you can do is simply be honest with each other about how you are feeling. I hear that’s what makes a marriage strong. Wolfe, why don’t you begin? Be honest with Ainsley.”

He felt for the guy. The last thing under the sun any man wants to do is attend therapy with a woman. The way Wolfe’s fingers scratched over the skin of his neck, Dr. Hass felt his own skin crawl with an itch. But he had to give it to the guy … it was more than he would’ve done to save a marriage.

Then again, Dr. Hass had reinvented himself. After all, he’d just preached at a church service!

He tuned back in to Wolfe, who was in the middle of describing his fears that Ainsley’s whole focus had shifted from him to success.

Dr. Hass nodded, smiled assuredly at Wolfe and said, “Good job, Wolfe. I know sometimes it’s difficult to be that honest.” Wolfe looked like he wanted to beat something up. A rose-colored flush of anger tinted his tan complexion.

“Ainsley, it’s your turn.”

Wolfe and Dr. Hass both watched her trying desperately to release a hangnail from her finger. With no luck, she smiled sadly and glanced up at them both.

“Go ahead,” Dr. Hass encouraged, after she still had not spoken.

“Well,” she began, but couldn’t seem to go on.

“It’s all right. Just be honest.”

Through teary eyes she looked at him, then at Wolfe. Then she said, “Okay. Here it goes. I’ve taken on the job of planning Melb’s entire wedding reception for a video that Alfred wants me to make to show to several TV executives who think I might be good enough to be Martha’s replacement.”

“What?” Wolfe’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Martha?” Dr. Hass asked.

“Stewart,” she answered, though her eyes remained on Wolfe, who had now risen from his chair and walked to the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, I’m not following,” Dr. Hass said.

“It’s a big opportunity for me,” she said. “Wolfe’s former editor thinks that I could be the next Martha Stewart, so he’s been putting together a plan to put me in front of some television executives who
might be interested in giving me my own show.” She stared at Wolfe’s back, then looked at Dr. Hass. “It’s a really big deal for me. A lot is at stake. But Wolfe doesn’t support it.”

Wolfe turned. “How could you not tell me this?”

“Because I knew you’d be mad! And here you are, mad!”

“How can you handle somebody else’s wedding when you can’t even manage to handle ours!”

Ainsley stood with a gasp. “How dare you! This is all because of the Wise Men!”

Dr. Hass was thoroughly confused as these two ranted back and forth at each other. For starters, what wise men was she talking about? And why would anybody want to be the next Martha Stewart? Many questions swelled to the surface of Dr. Hass’s mind, but he knew there was definitely one thing he was going to have to clear up.

He stood, waving his arms to get their attention. Finally, their words dropped off one by one until they stopped talking and looked at him.

“I’m sorry. I need to know, are you talking about Melb Cornforth?”

Wolfe stomped out of the office. Ainsley nodded tearfully at Dr. Hass, then grabbed her coat and purse and followed him, calling his name.

Thankfully all the tension had just marched out the door and Dr. Hass could think clearly. One thing he immediately realized—a lot more counted on Melb fitting into her dress than he’d realized.

“Wolfe! Wolfe! Wait!” Ainsley stumbled down the porch stairs of Dr. Hass’s office, calling after the one man she’d ever loved. Tears nearly froze to her cheeks as she ran after him. He walked swiftly, several yards ahead of her, and looked like he did not intend to stop. Her breath crystallized, and she ran as fast as she could. She finally reached him, circling in front of him to stop his stride. “Please,” she begged.

On the brims of his eyes, tears threatened to escape. He couldn’t even look at her. His hands were deep inside his trench coat, and his scarf clung to the front of his chest like a wall in front of his heart.

Finally, he looked at her as she grasped his arm with both hands. He said, “It’s not what you think it is. Fame is nothing you want, Ainsley, I assure you.”

Sniffling back threatening emotions, she replied, “It’s not the fame I’m after, Wolfe. Surely you know me well enough to know how little I care about that sort of thing.”

“I thought I did.”

“Then believe me. It’s not fame I’m after. And I realize it’s hard for you to understand what it feels like to grow up in a small town with hardly any hope of ever following your dreams. I’ve watched Martha Stewart do everything I’ve always wanted to do. And I became really good at what I do too. Why is it so bad to want success in that?”

Wolfe stared into the winter sky. “It’s not bad. But at what cost do you want this success?”

“Why does it have to cost anything? I’ve already sacrificed for years. People never understood me, never understood why I cared so much what length the flower stems were in a vase. Why I cared so much about using real butter. Why I cared so much about growing my own herbs. Maybe people thought I was trying to be like my mom. Maybe I was. But for me, I thought, maybe, just maybe, someday I might go beyond this small town.”

Wolfe finally took her hands in his, warming them between his gloves. “I don’t want to lose you. I fought too hard to get you.” His determined, quiet smile carried her anxieties away like a strong wind.

“You won’t lose me,” she said. “I promise that.”

“I hope you know I want the very best for you. I want you to be successful. But I also want you to understand what this kind of success would mean. Your life will never be the same.”

“If you’re in my life, my life will be just fine.” The tears that came blurred Wolfe as if he stood in a misty rain. She wiped them away.

“Ainsley, I just hope …”

“Hope what?”

He fingered the ends of his scarf. “I’m just an ordinary guy. You know that, right?”

“Wolfe … you’re perfect.”

But this didn’t seem to bring any comfort to the deep concern that swallowed the light in his eyes.

CHAPTER 24

A
INSLEY HAD TRIED
to spend the morning picking out flowers for her wedding, but the florist was on vacation, and her granddaughter, who didn’t seem to know a rose from a tulip, was filling in.

Even though their fight had been a couple of days ago, Wolfe’s angry words rang in her ears. Was she taking on too much? Was this the life for her? It was hard to imagine turning it down. After all, how many times had she found herself in her own kitchen, imagining she was baking a pie in front of millions? Yet how could that compare to being loved by the man of her dreams? Her emotions swayed like the top of a wind-whipped tree. Couldn’t both be her destiny? Why did she have to choose?

The granddaughter, aptly named Daisy, was trying to suggest pairing purple carnations with orange lilies. Ainsley was quite sure she didn’t want her bouquet to look like a football jersey. She walked around the florist shop for a while, trying to imagine what she might carry down the aisle on her wedding day. But in the back of her mind, she knew she also was going to need a beautiful centerpiece arrangement for Melb’s reception table, plus smaller arrangements for each of the dinner tables.

“Anything you like?” Daisy asked from the counter.

Ainsley shook her head and said she’d be back later. Besides, what she really needed to do was start planning the menu. Thankfully, hers was going to be catered, so she didn’t have to worry about that. She drove home and noticed Alfred’s car outside.

“Hello?” she said, entering the house.

“In here, honey,” her father said.

The two were sitting in front of the TV. Alfred hopped up from the couch like he’d just been rescued from watching home movies. “Hi there,” he said, taking her hand into a gentle handshake.

“Hi Alfred. What’s going on?”

“Oh, I just dropped by to see if you were home. Your dad thought you might be home soon. We were watching … um … sports.” Alfred’s candid smile made Ainsley laugh.

“What’s going on?” she asked again.

“Well, I thought if you weren’t doing anything, we could work on speaking to the camera. I know you don’t have any experience doing this, and it does take some practice.”

Ainsley’s eyelids fell closed at the thought of doing one more thing today.

“Alfred,” she began. The words she knew she should speak became tangled with the words she knew she wanted to speak, and what fell out of her mouth was a mess of mumbling.

Alfred leaned toward her, trying to understand. “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I didn’t catch that.”

She sighed. “Nothing. Sure, we can do that. How’s an hour sound?”

A grin stretched across his face. “Plenty of time to teach you to engage the world through one small lens.”

She hoped it was easier than picking out the perfect flower arrangement.