Chapter 5

            Blake’s jet landed at Portland International Jetport at two p.m. From there he had hired a driver. The black town-car pulled up outside of 2838 Atlantic Drive. It was exactly how Robinson described it. The townhouse was three levels with two doors in the front with a white painted porch. The townhouse was painted pale yellow. The driver opened the door for Blake to get out. As Blake walked to the townhome, he noticed a light skinned black man sitting on the porch.

            “Hey, man,” the black man greeted. He wore light colored denim jeans and a red T-shirt.

            “Hello,” Blake mumbled and took the steps to the porch. Then he quickly reached for the door knob for condo two. It was locked. “Damn,” he hissed.

            “You lookin’ for Lacey?” the black man asked.

            “Yes,” Blake answered. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

            “In about a month.”

            “A month!” Blake yelled. “Where the hell has she gone for a month?”

            “Wiscasset for the yearly art show.”

            “Oh . . . yes. Her work is great. It should be in an art show,” Blake said. He had never seen her work. He just wanted to appear like a friend of hers so the man would tell him more - hopefully. “Surely, the art show isn’t going to go on for a month.”

            “Nah. Just three days. She’s going to stay out there for a month for inspiration she said. Trying to find more things to draw and paint,” the black man explained and leaned back in the rocker and stayed in that position.

            Blake nodded. “I see.”

            “You’re a pretty fancy lookin’ dude. A little too fancy to be a friend of Lacey’s,” he said with slight suspicion.

            Blake was wearing a black Brooks Brothers tailored suit with a dark yellow shirt and a black and white striped tie. “I am a friend of hers. I’m from New York.”

            “Yeah? I love New York, but it doesn’t love me. I lived there for six months. And in that time, I got mugged three times and I couldn’t find a steady job. I got on the first bus out of there when I could afford it,” the black man stated. “What do you do for a living to afford such a fancy suit?”

            None of your damn business, Blake wanted to say. But, he decided to be nice to the guy. His father always told him you got more flies with honey than vinegar.

            “I’m a stockbroker,” he answered. It wasn’t a complete lie. He had a brokers license. He just neglected to mention he was the majority stockholder and CEO of an investment firm.

            The black man nodded like he approved – and like Blake gave a shit if he did. “Nice. How do you know, Lacey?”

            Once again, Blake wanted to tell him it was none of his business. “Our fathers were friends and we played together when we were kids. I was in Portland on business and thought I look her up.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Their fathers had been friends. But, Blake was ten years older than Lacey. They hadn’t played together. They had never really met. Blake had just seen her once as a child as their fathers were talking outside in the driveway. Lacey had never even looked his way as she swung on an old swing from a tree on the estate.

            “Oh,” he said and leaned down letting the chair rest on the porch floor. “She said she was from New York. Sorry you missed her.”

            “Well, I have a little time. Maybe I can catch up to her in Wiscasset, if it’s not too far away.” Blake hoped the man took the bait.

            “If you don’t mind driving fifty miles. The art show starts tomorrow, but I can’t remember what time.”

            “Hmm. I might be able to make it. If you don’t mind me asking, do you know what hotel she’s staying at there?”

            “She’s staying at a B&B, but I can’t remember the name of it,” the black man answered.

            Blake wasn’t sure if the man was lying or not, but he did give Blake enough information to go on. “All right. I better get going. Thanks.” He headed for the porch steps.

            “Yeah. Have a good one.”

            Blake got into the town car and ordered the driver to take him Wiscasset.

            “I’ll take you, sir, but you should know that’s a small town. A town where you need your own car to get around.”

            Blake looked up at the middle-aged man. “Really?” What else can you tell me about the town?”

            “There’s a place called Red’s Eats that sell the best lobster rolls in the state – in my humble opinion. Most people go there for antique shopping. Like I said, it’s a small town. I don’t think the population is over thirty-eight hundred.”

            “Wow, that is small,” Blake mumbled. “Do you know about any bed and breakfast inns there?”

            “Oh, yes,” he said with familiarity. “There are two within the town limits. One is The Marston House and the other is The Cozy Inn. And of course there are several outside of the town limits.”

            I’ll start with the ones in Wiscasset and work my way outward if need be.

            “And it’s a laid back town. So you might stick out if you wear a three-piece suit if you’re not going to a wedding or a funeral,” the driver said timidly.

            Blake wasn’t offended. He rather know up front than show up at an art show sticking out like a sore thumb. “Duly noted.”

            Three hours later, Blake had ditched the town car, the driver, and the suit. He got a rental car from the airport and called both B&Bs within Wiscasset from his hotel room in Portland. When the woman confirmed Lacey was staying at The Cozy Inn by placing him on hold to connect him to her room phone, he had hung up. It was no big deal. He was using the hotel room phone.

            After an hour, he called The Cozy Inn back on his cell and asked if they had any rooms available. Luckily, they had a cancellation. He would check-in tomorrow. He had reserved the room for three days, but he doubted he needed it that long.

            It wasn’t until he was about to go to sleep that he realized tomorrow would be exactly one year to the day when Lacey Stevens had left him at the altar. May 30^th.

            I’m going to that art show tomorrow and I’m going to humiliate her there like she did me at the country club. Then, I’ll be able to move on.

                                                                                   ****

            By the time Blake had gotten to Wiscasset the art show had started. The downtown area was blocked by barricades. People were everywhere. It took him almost an hour to find a parking space.

            He was irritated as hell by the time he got to the show. Vendors and artists had tables and tents set up on the sidewalks. He realized it was good that he was irritated from the ridiculous parking situation and slow moving drivers. He could take it out on Lacey - give her the tongue lashing she deserved and then some. And the art show didn’t have to be the end of his vengeance. After all, they both had rooms at The Cozy Inn.

            Blake planned to walk one side of the sidewalk. If she wasn’t set up on that side, he would go down the other side. It was more of a task than he thought. There were just as many people in the streets and on the sidewalks like he was in New York. Surely, some of the people had to be tourists.

            He didn’t spot Lacey on the right side of the street so he began walking the left side. He went a block and a half and then stopped in his tracks. Just up ahead under a red covered tent stood the most beautiful woman he had seen in an extremely long time.         

            Her long blonde hair shimmered and shined like gold. Her face was like an angel’s. She had full pouty lips and hips that were meant for a man to hold onto. Her long legs were on display thanks to the short jean shorts. Her chest wasn’t flat, but not overly large either. Perfect.

            That can’t be her, he thought with shock and awe.

            The pictures of her as a young debutante in the newspapers and the cell pics Robinson took of her hadn’t done her justice at all.

            No. No. That is not her. It can’t be. Yet, I need to find out who this glorious creature is. Blake walked to the station.  Paintings that weren’t framed or matted were set up on easels. There were also photographs set up as well. There was a middle-aged woman under the tent with her.

           The blonde turned and stopped.

             Their eyes met.

            She had dark blue eyes like sapphires. Then all of a sudden she smiled.  Blake’s heart began to beat fast and he felt a little short of breath.

          “Hi,” she greeted softly. “I’m Lacey. If you see something you like, let me know.” She had no idea who he was.

           “I do see something I like. You,” he heard himself say - and immediately regretted it. He couldn’t believe he said that out loud. It sounded like some pathetic cheesy pick up line a man going through a mid-life crisis would say.

         Lacey’s smile grew bigger, showing her perfectly straight teeth.

         Why is my heart beating so hard? I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.

         “That’s sweet,” she said with a little shyness. “What’s your name?”

          Blake blinked as he began to think. He couldn’t tell her his real name. If he did, she would go running down the street screaming.

                                                                                ****

           Oh my god. He’s gorgeous, Lacey thought as their eyes met. He had neatly cut black hair parted on the side leaving a thick comb over on the other side.  She was able to estimate that he was about five foot eight because she was five foot six and a half. He wore casual clothes like everyone else, a shirt with a collar and black shorts that came to his knees. For a man he had decent looking legs – strong and taut.

          They couldn’t stare at each other forever. So, Lacey said something – and immediately regretted it. Her speaking seemed to loosen whatever spell that had come over them. She knew he felt it to – whatever it was.

         “I do see something I like. You,” he said. He had a deep voice that sounded so sexy.

          She kept herself from giggling like a school girl by smiling big and wide. “That’s sweet,” she said with a little shyness. “What’s your name?” She had to know his name - who he was. She had never seen a man this good looking before – even in Paris.

         He opened his mouth then closed it.

         She was about to ask if something was wrong when he finally spoke.

          “Brian. Brian Bennett,” he answered.

          “Nice to meet you. Um, do you see anything you like?”

         “Yes,” he said as he looked at her.

         “Okay which painting? Or photograph?”

          “All of them,” he said as he kept looking at her.

          She let out a nervous breathy, “Ha.”

          “Lacey, who’s your handsome friend?” Eleanor asked. She was one of the volunteers for the Wiscasset Art Show.  She had helped Lacey set up her spot and then she came back to check on her.

          “Eleanor, this is Brian. He says he’s interested in . . . everything,” Lacey answered shyly.

           “Including, Lacey,” he added with confidence.

           “Woo, well,” Eleanor said as she fanned herself. “But, surely you can’t buy everything she has, so I suggest you pick –”

           “Yes, I can,” he interrupted.

          "What?” Eleanor asked with confusion.

           Lacey was lost as well.

           Brian looked around the display. “I’ll take it all. Photos, paintings, everything.”

           “Are you joking?” Lacey blurted out.

           “Not at all.” Then he cleared his throat. “What can I say? You have an effect on a man that makes him want to give you all he has,” he said with a shy smile. It was so cute.

            Twenty minutes later, Eleanor was calling her sons to bring shipping boxes and labels to booth ten thirty-two and Lacey was three thousand and two hundred dollars richer. He actually paid her in cash. She didn’t know anyone who carried around that much cash with them – until now.

            Brian had requested his new merchandise be shipped to a place in New York. Eleanor had written down the address.

          “I would say thank you, but I feel like it’s not enough,” Lacey said. At the most, she had sold three items at art shows on a good day – not everything she had on display.

          “Why don’t you thank me by having dinner with me tonight?”

          Lacey’s mouth dropped open. She had hoped he ask her out, but she was still surprised he actually did. “All right. Where?”

         “Let me surprise you.”

          Normally, she would meet a first date at the place where they were going. If there was a second and third date, then she would let the man pick her up for the fourth date. Her mother had taught her that safety tip. This time was different. There was an electricity in the air. And for some reason she knew Brian meant her no harm. He just wanted what she wanted. To spend more time together.

         “I’m staying at The Cozy Inn.”

         “That’s where I’m staying,” he said simply.

         “Really?” she said in a high-pitched tone. How did she miss him at the inn yesterday and this morning?

          “Really,” he confirmed. “I haven’t checked in, yet, but I will after I leave here.”

           Oh my god. This is not a coincidence. We were meant to meet. This is karma, kisma, fate. Lacey smiled. He might be the one. The man she dreamed about when she was a little girl. The man she would fall in love with – and marry.

                                                                           ****

            Blake had to get to The Cozy Inn before Lacey or his lie would be exposed quicker than an old lady’s slip.

            He pulled the black SUV into a parking space outside of The Cozy Inn.

The main house was two stories with white siding. There was a wrap-around porch and two small balconies in the front on the second level. White and red rose bushes surrounded the front of the house. Purple and white impatiens lined the walkway to the steps of the house.

        As Blake carried his laptop case, suitcase, and briefcase to the walkway the door opened.

        A furball with four legs came out on the porch and trotted down the stairs.

         Oh, no, there’s a dog here? I hate dogs!

         Blake saw dogs or any pet with fur for that matter as useless eaters that made a mess. He had even hated the dogs on the estate while he was growing up. They had been kept outside in the kennels. His family had them for security purposes, but the only thing they were good for was barking. Damn, nasty Dobermans.

            The furball with the hairy tail started sniffing the hell out of his leg.

            “Go away,” Blake mumbled between his teeth.

            The dog just circled around him happily.

            “I see you met, Champ,” a man said.

            Brian looked up to see a couple. They appeared to be on the downhill side of middle-aged. “Yes. Um, what kind of dog is he?” he asked as the dog kept circling him as he looked up at him.”

            “A Golden Retriever,” the woman answered.

            “I see,” Blake said, trying to not sound annoyed.

            “I’m Rebecca.” She had brown poufy like hair. She had a few strands of white, but not much. “And this big strapping man here is Horace, my husband. We’re the innkeepers.”

            Horace had dark blond hair. Like his wife, he had a few strands of white.

            “Let me guess? You’re Blake Dandridge,” Rebecca said.

            “Yes and no. Please call me Brian.”

            For the love of God call me Brian.

            “Ah, you like being called by your nickname,” Horace commented.

            “Yes,” Blake answered quickly. “But I had to make the reservation with my legal name because that’s what it says on the credit card I used,” he said, trying to joke a little, but failed.

            “We understand. We get that all the time. I can put Brian as a preferred name in our system if you like,” Rebecca said.

            “Yes,” he nearly shouted. “Please do.”

            The nosy dog had stopped circling Blake. He slowly walked on the grass and sat down.

            Dumb dog probably made himself dizzy.

            “Let me help you with your bags,” Horace offered.

            “Thank you. I have to get my carry-on out of the vehicle, too.” Blake was grateful for the help. A man of his means usually didn’t carry his own luggage. Plus, he wanted to get checked in before Lacey came along.  Once he did, the name Blake Dandridge would not be spoken again for the rest of his stay – which he was going to extend for a month. He would need that time to get to know Lacey better – beyond a P.I.’s report.

            It took them no time to get inside and go to the front desk. The front desk was too the right of the entrance. A few feet away was a dark stained wooden stairs case. The floors were dark wood nearly matching the staircase and front desk.

            As Rebecca was checking him, he asked, “Are there any restaurants in town with a romantic ambiance?”

            “Hmm,” Rebecca mused. “Well, it depends. Are we talking about anniversary celebration, birthday, first anniversary, a date, a surprise dinner for the one you love?”

            “First date.”

            “I take it you really want to impress this young lady on the first run out?”

            “Most definitely.”

            “I know just the place,” Rebecca said with confidence.