Finding The Way Back To Love (Lakeside Porches 3) (30 page)

“Moving on to your professional page.” Haley kept up a monologue as she created another page. “You should think about making your personal page about healthy living or great cookie recipes. How do you want your name to read on your new professional page?”

“Gwendolyn C. Forrester, Ph.D.”

When Haley walked her through choosing a photo, Gwen surprised Haley. She selected one Haley had taken on the lakeshore. Gwen grinning, the corners of her eyes crinkled. She wore her favorite plaid wool shirt and blue jeans. All around her, sunshine ignited the colorful fall leaves. “Why this picture?”

“I suppose I should get a formal portrait done, but I’m going with the real me and letting the sunshine spell hope for a prospective client.”

“Cool idea. When did we take that shot?”

Gwen hesitated and said quietly, “Right before Peter and I canoed down the lake and crashed in the storm.”

Haley cringed. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it was a beautiful morning.”

“Think you’ll ever get back together with him?” At Gwen’s silence, Haley sized the photo to fit Gwen’s new Facebook page. She asked questions about information to post and tags to use. “Okay, we’ve described your practice, given contact information, added metadata so people can discover you, and now we’re done. Until you want to say something new.”

“I like it. Thanks, sweetie.”

“Let’s take a break and then come back to your list.”

“My list?”

Haley slid off her stool. “The things you want to be able to do on the Internet.”

“Oh. Right.” Gwen stood and stretched. “Are the cookies thawed?”

“Just.” Haley arranged their cookies on a white plate and added a spring of holly from the bundle on the counter.

“When did you bring in the holly? What are you planning to do with it?”

“You’ll see later. First, I want to bring you up to date about Rick and me.”

Gwen started. “What’s happening with Rick?”

“Rick and I talk—well, text—every day. He has taken the new environmental engineering students under his wing, at his mentor’s suggestion. You can tell he likes it, and the students are excelling in their lab work. Professor Singh, his mentor, says he’ll make a good teacher. It’s cool hearing about the changes in him.”

Haley’s update brought calm and happiness to Gwen. Rick had been stressed when he arrived for the birth, and drained when he left two days later. He had spent just twelve hours with Haley and the baby, before the Hahns took the little one home with them.

“Can I invite him for Thanksgiving?” Haley asked.

“Of course. You know I’d love to see him. Christmas break, too, if he can. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll ask him. I wonder . . .”

“What are you thinking?” Gwen prompted.

“No, it’s selfish.”

“I’d still like to hear it.”

“I’m thinking how lucky Rick is to have a mentor. Not,” she added quickly, “that I’m not grateful for all you and Gianessa are doing for me. I would be in the depths of depression without both of you supporting me.”

“Thank you, sweetie. But a mentor’s role is different. Professor Singh is Rick’s mentor in his field, engineering, and he’s guiding Rick to explore career options, like teaching, research, and whatever. That is beneficial to him as he begins his career.”

“Exactly. Professor Singh wants Rick to get a taste of the corporate world, which is where the big money is, so Rick is interviewing all this month for possible internships with companies. Rick seems more interested in teaching and research, but Professor Singh keeps reminding him that, if he became a professor, he’d be preparing engineers who would go to work at twice his salary, and he needs to think about how that would feel. You know how sensitive Rick is about money.”

“That’s good mentoring.” Gwen reached for another cookie.

“Yes, and that’s why I need a mentor.” Haley brushed the crumbs off her hands. “Except, I have no idea where to find one. And no idea what I want to do after college.”

“So let me ask some ridiculous questions, and maybe we’ll identify the next step for you.”

“Cool.”

“You love your photography. You love your art. You’re passionate about flowers.”

Haley nodded emphatically after each statement. “‘Yes’ to all of that. I almost forgot, I want to show you my new product line.” She moved the laptop across the island and opened her business website for Gwen. “I’ll give you the tour.”

Haley dazzled her aunt with her new line of greeting cards. Each card featured Haley’s flowers on the cover. The messages were words of encouragement and friendship. Those with sketches of emerging spring bulbs were especially for pregnant women. Those with baby’s breath and pastel flowers were meant for new moms. “I’m going to try one with holly,” she gestured to the bunch of holly on the counter, “for baby’s first Christmas. I call the line ‘In Bloom’ and they’re selling really well. A shop in Saratoga Springs stocks them, and the lady says she’ll mention them to shopkeepers she knows in Florida. She thinks I should add shower invitations and birth-announcements.”

“These are precious. And you know exactly what messages meant the most to you when you were pregnant, so they are authentic and very personal. No wonder they’re selling.”

“Thank you.” Haley warm smile held a tinge of sadness. “Rick arranges the printing, just like with the posters and prints. He has an in with a couple of the graphic arts people at RPI, and they have contacts all over the capital district. Because everything is electronic, they can print on demand, and they ship within the United States.”

“And you still make a profit?”

“I do pretty well. My online business has covered all my books and art supplies the last two years, plus my camera and the laptop and software, and I’ve been able to save a bunch, too. The lady in Saratoga Springs made me agree to a higher price because she says I’ve been selling myself short. So I upped it on the cards, and the sales are strong.” She paused for breath. “And I really love doing it.”

Gwen gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I can see that. So are you thinking you want to do more with the botany? Or with business? Or with art? Or . . .”

“I know I’m supposed to say botany, but—”

“What does your heart say?”

“My heart knows I’m really smart with science. But I don’t know what career path I’d have in botany.” She reached for the last cookie. “I’d like to talk to some people who do.”

“I’ll bet Justin could find a couple people for you to talk to, if you asked him.”

“I never thought of that. That’s a great idea.” She drew her eyebrows together. “You really think it’s okay for me to just ask him?”

“Absolutely.”

“And maybe I could talk to somebody in graphic arts.” She bounced on her stool. “Rick can give me names at RPI.”

“And, you know, there’s a graphic arts program at RIT.”

“That’s where Sara is getting her MBA in December. I wonder if RIT is as expensive as RPI.”

“Something to investigate.” Gwen pressed in the phone number for the Spa at the Manse.

“Maybe I could get a job and financial aid.”

“Remember you have the money from the Hahns, and your aunt has a few million dollars with nothing to spend it on.”

“You’ve got a million dollars?”

“Besides my inheritance from my folks and from Jeb, plus Jeb’s life insurance, I also have—” She raised her eyebrows. “Hi, I’d like to book two haircuts with Sara.”

Gwen listened and said, “Gwen Forrester and her niece Haley.”

Another pause.

“Two o’clock today? We’ll be there.”

“Terrific,” Haley said with a laugh. “That is so lucky.”

“I think Sara is phasing out at the Manse. It sounded like she’s not taking any appointments, but she knows us so she agreed.”

“Now it’s your turn.” Haley folded her arms. “You heard all about Rick and me. I want to hear what you’re thinking about Peter. And I need to hear about this new guy Rand—the one who inspired you to create a Facebook page.”

“There’s no getting out of it, is there?”

Haley gave her head a firm shake.

“Okay. I’m very sad about what happened with Peter, and especially because Deirdre and others have made me see I was partially at fault.”

“How so?”

“I should have been upfront with him about being a recovering alcoholic.”

“It’s not like it’s anything terrible,” Haley defended. “And it’s not like you were deceiving him.”

“But to Peter it was something terrible. And he felt I was deceiving him. I tell my patients all the time, ‘You don’t get credit for your intentions; you get credit for what happens.’ And what happened was he felt deceived and angry.”

“But—”

Gwen held up her hands. “He has his own issues, but I contributed and I need to own that. There, I’ve said it.”

Haley huffed. “Sucks.”

“Yeah, but I should have seen it coming. I knew it was a big deal to him. What we had was really good, and I was focused on enjoying it, not on making sure it would last through the rough times.”

“Think you’ll ever get back together?”

Gwen shook her head and took a deep breath. “And that’s my loss.”

“So, tell me about Rand.”

“Rand Cunningham is a poet and a brilliant professor.” Gwen moved the laptop in front of her and keyed in the web address Rand had given her. His site popped on the screen. Gwen turned the screen so Haley could see. “Check it out. This is something he does with a buddy to get students’ poetry into the public eye.”

“Hm.” Haley’s tone was polite.

Gwen clicked around the site and gave up after a couple of unanswered, “See, isn’t this cool?” She sniffed. “You don’t fool me, Haley Forrester. You’re not even trying to be interested.”

“I just think you and Peter are perfect for each other.”

“Well, Peter doesn’t,” Gwen snapped.

Haley jumped at Gwen’s sharp tone. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “And I did ask you to tell me about Rand. Is he cute?”

“He’s very handsome, very preppy.”
In fact, a lot like Jeb. Uh-oh, I’d better talk to Deirdre about that.
“He’s a bit full of himself,” Gwen added, “but, as you can see, he has reason to be.”

“And you’re going out with him again?”

“Yes. This Friday night.”

Haley said dutifully, “I hope you have a good time.”

“I’m so sorry you and Rand had a bad time,” Gianessa commiserated. “And so glad you’re getting me out of the house for some girl talk. This is the first time I’ve ventured out socially with the twins, and I can’t imagine ever doing it alone.”

“Two babies are way more work than one?”

“Amen.”

They had jockeyed two infant-sized strollers through the narrow front door of Lynnie’s Chestnut Lake Café, moved tables and chairs to clear a path and, finally, parked themselves.

Lynnie bustled over, all excited. “If you’d come at the height of the lunch rush, I might have been too busy to see these two little angels.”

Gianessa laughed her musical laugh. Gwen hadn’t heard it in months.

“We knew better, Lynnie. Let me introduce my children—Jack and Jill Cushman.”

Lynnie squatted in front of the strollers and peeked at the little faces in their buntings and blankets. She cooed when she told them how happy she was to make their acquaintance. “I don’t even need the blue and pink blankets to know who’s who,” she told Gianessa.

“Jack is a big boy, built like Justin, and Jill is delicate, like me. They’re both very sweet babies. I am lucky.”

Lynnie rose with a satisfied smile and asked, “What can I get you two?”

“Latte for me,” Gwen told her. “Cinnamon sprinkled on top.”

“The same,” Gianessa agreed.

“Large for both of you?”

They nodded in unison and laughed.

Alone again, Gianessa quizzed, “So you’re not going to see Rand again?”

“He’s a good guy.” Gwen shook her head. “We’re just not a fit for each other.”

“I’m so sorry. I had hopes. Tell me everything.”

“We started with a delicious dinner at a restaurant right in the city.”

“Rochester?”

“Yes, very close to the theater. But the food could not make up for the noise all around us. It drowned out every attempt at conversation. Rand downed two bottles of beer—Corona this time—right off the bat. All through the meal, he alternately fidgeted and glared at the neighboring tables.”

“Guess you didn’t linger over coffee and dessert?” Gianessa said wryly.

“No, and you know that’s my favorite part of the meal.”

Gianessa chuckled. “Those are beautiful, Lynnie.”

Lynnie set down their lattes and glanced at the sleeping babies. “You’ll let me know if they wake up, right?” She hustled back to the cash register to take care of a departing customer.

After Gwen took her first sip, Gianessa prompted, “So dinner was a bust. What then?”

“We got to the theater early. We chatted—kind of stilted—as we perused the photos of the cast and their bios and the sketches of the costumes. Other couples started to arrive, and Rand and I wandered into the café. I had a latte, and Rand had a brandy.”

Gianessa tapped her fingers against the glass mug. “You don’t think he has a problem?”

“I think he was just regretting the whole night, even then.”

“Uh-oh, was the play awful, too?”

Gwen raised both eyebrows. “It was a yawn for me. Rand groaned and sheeshed the whole time. At intermission, I suggested we go somewhere for coffee instead of staying for the rest of the play.”

“Good idea,” Gianessa agreed.

“Not. Rand took it personally, snagged a table in the café, and ordered another brandy. I told him if he was going to drink that, I wanted his keys. He slapped his keys on the table, slugged down the brandy and had a coughing fit.” Gwen glanced at her friend with mischief in her eyes.

“I can’t believe this.” Gianessa’s mouth dropped open.

“Wait for the best part.”

“Ohmigod, what happened?” Gianessa grabbed her arm. “What did you do?”