Small Change (28 page)

“
D
o you like my outfit for New Year's Eve?” Tiffany asked, twirling in front of Brian.

He turned aside from his computer game to take in her backless black dress and silver heels with an appreciative eye. “Oh, yeah.”

“Want to know where I got it?”

Wariness flitted across his face. “I don't know. Do I?”

“Yes, you do. I went shopping.” Brian opened his mouth to remind her about their budget pact but she cut him off. “I went shopping in Cara's closet.”

Now he was really looking appreciative. “No shit?”

“No shit,” she assured him. “And Cara's wearing my dress from last year. Am I good or what?”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed. “Come here, you.” She came and perched on his lap and he took a nibble of her neck. “I like it even better when you're bad.”

She was just starting to show him how bad she could be when the phone rang.

“Let it ring,” said Brian, running a hand up her thigh.

“It might be important,” she insisted, and picked up.

“What is it?” demanded Brian, taking in her shocked expression. Only the call of a lifetime.

“You never told me where you were taking me for dinner,” Rachel said after Chad had gotten her settled into his vintage Mustang. She hoped she wasn't overdressed. She'd dug out some black velvet pants she'd had forever and teamed them up with her slinky black top and some rhinestone jewelry Jess had loaned her. Considering the number of inexpensive dates she and Chad had enjoyed, it wouldn't have surprised her if they'd wound up at Crazy Eric's eating hamburgers. That would be fine with her. When she was with Chad she was never aware of her surroundings for long anyway.

“I'm taking you someplace I hope you'll like,” he said. Instead of heading for the freeway he turned the car toward Lake Way.

So, somewhere in town? The Two Turtledoves? The Family Inn? She hoped he'd chosen The Family Inn. The prices were reasonable, and Ty Howell, who was both chef and half owner of the place, had done a wonderful job of revamping the old restaurant's menu. Two Turtledoves would be way too spendy.

But Chad bypassed both restaurants, instead driving them to the less developed side of the lake. “I thought you might like to see my place,” he said.

“Oh, you mean where you've been staying.”

He gave her a cryptic smile and nodded.

As they drove, she could catch glimpses of the lake hidden among the trees, the lights from the houses around it reflected
on its surface. She'd often driven by the lake with a jealous eye, wishing she could live on it. Not likely, even if she had the money. A few wooded spots remained and some charming, old family cabins, but most of the waterfront was developed now, and lakefront houses rarely came up for sale. Once people got their hands on one they didn't want to sell.

Chad turned down a private gravel road, hidden among fir, alder, and general forest tangle.

“Secluded,” Rachel observed.

He looked at her. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It depends on who your neighbors are, I guess.” She had liked her house, but she'd loved the camaraderie of the neighborhood thanks to Tiff and Jess. Now, with her grumpy new neighbors, not so much.

“I actually have nice neighbors,” Chad said, “but I like the fact that we can't see into each other's places.”

“Oh, you get used to it,” said Rachel, thinking about all the fun she'd had running back and forth from her house to Jess's.

“You miss your next door neighbor, huh?”

“There's an understatement,” said Rachel. “The new neighbors are enough to make me wish I lived someplace like this.” The road ended, leaving them in front of a two-story cedar home. It wasn't huge, but it was no cabin, either. She looked at Chad in surprise. “This is your idea of a cabin?”

He shrugged. “It's only three bedrooms. But it's got a great deck.”

He took her in through the back door and they passed through a combination mudroom-laundry room, then down a hall past a couple of doors which, she assumed, led to bedrooms. The master bedroom was probably on the second story to take advantage of the
view. She caught a whiff of something spicy, probably their dinner, as she followed him through a den area complete with leather couch and chairs and a flat panel TV. Then they were in a huge great room that housed a state of the art kitchen, dining area, and living room. Floor to ceiling windows framed a view of the lake. A fire burned in the wood stove in the corner of the room, casting a romantic glow on the hardwood floors and the furniture. The sofa and two chairs were sage microfilter, big, and comfortable looking.

“Wow,” Rachel breathed. “Some cabin. I can't believe your friend has let you stay here so long.”

“We're tight,” said Chad, moving to where he had champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to the table, which was set for two and decorated with a vase holding a single red rose.

Rachel followed him over, taking it all in as he opened the bottle. The dishes were Fiestaware, the colors tastefully mix 'n' match. “You are definitely in touch with your inner Martha Stewart,” she observed.

“Don't let that stuff fool you,” he said, popping the cork. “My sister picked out the dishes for me.”

“She has good taste.” Judging from the way he'd spiffed up the house next door, so did Chad. Odd, though, that he'd had to bring his own dishes to stay in a friend's furnished house.

Before Rachel could say anything he was handing her a glass of champagne. He touched his glass to Rachel's. “Here's to the new year.”

“To the new year,” Rachel echoed, and they drank, watching each other over the rims of their glasses. She couldn't help but wonder what the coming year held. Surely, with a romantic beginning like this, it had to be something wonderful.

He took her hand and led her over to the couch. Once they
were settled, he took the champagne glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. Her heart began to flutter in anticipation. Here came the first something wonderful.

“Rachel, I've got something I need to tell you.”

His serious tone of voice erased her happy glow and her heart plummeted to her stomach. It was the night Aaron told her he'd found someone else all over again. Dinner. He'd taken her out to dinner and told her right there in the Two Turtledoves so she couldn't make a public scene. She'd gotten dressed up and farmed out the kids, just like tonight.
Rachel, I've got something to tell you.
Her lips suddenly felt dry. This is not the same scenario, she told herself firmly. Not even remotely.

“You need to know a few things about me.”

“What, you're a serial killer?” she joked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I haven't been entirely honest with you, but before I shared more of my life I wanted to be sure of what we were building together.”

That didn't sound like the prelude to a breakup. “You're sure now?”

“I'm sure enough to tell you that this place doesn't belong to a friend,” he said. “It belongs to me.”

This gorgeous lake house? How was that possible? He was broke. “You?” she stammered.

“I was hoping you'd like it enough to want to move in,” he continued.

“Move in? With the kids?” she said stupidly, still reeling from mental whiplash.

“I figure you're a package deal,” he said with a smile. “Do you think they'd like living on the lake?” Now he was reaching into the pocket of his sports coat. Out came a little box.

This time she knew it wasn't earrings. Her shocked gaze flew from the box to his face.

He was looking at her with love and hope. He handed it to her and she opened it with trembling hands.

There it was, the diamond ring she'd been dreaming of.

“Will you marry me?”

Say yes!
“There's still so much we don't know about each other.” Or rather, there was so much she didn't know about him. How did he come to be living in this lovely house on the lake? “I thought you were poor, like me.”

He grazed her cheek with his fingers. “I was, once.”

“So you own this house and … more?” This was too weird. The cheap dates, the secretiveness—it made no sense.

“Actually, I own several rentals. I have one in Richland, where I lived before I bought this place and moved up here, the house in Renton where my sister lives, a condo in Seattle that I'm renting out, and, of course, the one next to you. I'm far from poor, Rachel.”

She blinked. She was sitting on a couch with Prince Charming and staring at a gorgeous diamond solitaire. She opened her mouth to say, “Yes, I'll marry you.” Instead, she said, “When you told me you were in real estate I thought you meant you were a Realtor, that you sold it.”

“I do. I buy, too.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Did it matter? Did you need to know I was rich?”

He was rich. Tiffany's words from months ago popped into Rachel's mind.
Maybe he's really rich and he doesn't want you to know cuz he wants to be sure you like him for him.
Tiff had nailed it. “I get it. We were doing a princess and the pea thing. You were testing me
to see whether or not I'm a gold digger.” Which meant he'd questioned her character. She left the couch and went to stand in front of the window while excitement over Chad's proposal fought with her sense of outrage. The lake stretched out beyond the deck and the small yard, a length of dark mystery. “I don't know what to say, what to think.”

He was behind her now, his hands on her shoulders. He turned her to face him. “Come back to the couch. Let me tell you a story.”

She let him lead her back to the couch. She perched on the opposite end, facing him, and waited. There, between them, sat the ring, still in its box. Of course, she wanted to put it on, wanted to say, “Yes, I'll marry you.” It was silly to smart over the fact that he hadn't been more forthcoming with her. He'd been being cautious. So what? She'd felt cautious at first, too.

But she had told him everything about herself. And he hadn't trusted her. She frowned. “So, once upon a time there was a young prince named Chad.”

“Who fell hard for a girl he met in college,” Chad finished. He suddenly became fascinated by the sight of the flames dancing behind the glass in the wood stove. “He was quiet, a little shy. She was beautiful and had so much personality, so much life. Every day with her was like a party. He worked hard to give her everything she wanted.” Chad's expression turned sour. “The harder he worked the more she wanted, but he kept trying, thinking if he could become as rich as Bill Gates then maybe she'd finally be happy.” Chad fell silent.

“And when he became as rich as Bill Gates?” Rachel prompted.

Chad turned and looked at Rachel now. “I didn't. But I had a good chunk and she took half when she left me for another man.”

His pain, so like hers, burned into Rachel's heart, consuming
her feelings of hurt pride over the fact that he hadn't confided in her sooner. “I'm sorry,” she said softly.

Chad shrugged like it didn't matter anymore. “I should have learned from that but I didn't. Chita was the first, Monica was the second. We never married but we were together for almost eight years before it dawned on me that if I lost everything she'd be gone in a heartbeat. I haven't had a serious relationship since … until you.” Now his expression pleaded for Rachel's understanding. “I had two strikes against me. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't be the third. I wanted to find a woman who cares more about people than things, a woman who wants to be with me for what we can be together, not what we can buy together. I'm hoping I've found her.”

Rachel took the ring out of the box. She picked up his hand, turned it palm up, and dropped the ring in it. “What do you think?” she asked, and held out her left hand for him to slip the ring on her finger.

His smile split his face. “I think I found her.”

And there, in the glow of the firelight, Rachel experienced a fairy tale moment where she was kissed by her prince and offered the world.

They finally came up for air and, drinking more champagne, they talked. And talked. And talked.

When he finally remembered to offer her dinner, she found she didn't have much appetite. The only thing she was hungry for was Chad.