Burn So Bright

Chapter 4

4

When Suzanne arrived at the office of Stars in Your Eyes Events and Tours on the Monday after the YWCA party, a young Asian couple was already waiting at the door, flyer in hand.

“Good morning. Are you interested in one of our honeymoon packages?”

“How did you know?”

She smiled at them. “It’s the happy glow. I can spot it a mile away. Come on in.”

She unlocked the front door and gestured to the two honeymooners to take a seat. The sunny office was filled with scenic shots of various romantic locations around town. Jupiter Point wasn’t on par with Hawaii or the Caribbean or other top honeymoon destinations, but the town had carved out a niche for itself thanks to its prime stargazing. Night picnics on the beach—complete with linen-covered tables and torchlight—private tours of the observatory with a chance to name a star, a sunset cruise on the sailboat That’s Amore…there were so many ways to weave stargazing into a honeymoon.

She’d been working at Stars in Your Eyes since high school. When the owner, Marlene, had made her a full partner, she’d expanded the business into big event planning. Since she excelled at planning, she loved her job—when she was in an optimistic mood.

The rest of the time, it could be depressing.

Like when she was comparing the bliss in a newly married couple’s faces with her own troubled state of mind.

Plastering on a bright smile, she got to work. “Do you enjoy sailing? There’s nothing quite like a private sunset cruise.”

The husband shook his head, placing a protective arm over his bride’s shoulder. “She gets seasick. We’ll take a pass on that. We were looking at the nighttime stargazing picnic package.”

“Of course. That’s a wonderful one.” As she smiled and walked them through the choices, she really wished he hadn’t used the word “pass.”

As in, “free pass.” As in, what the hell, Logan Rossi?

She was dying to ask the newlyweds if they’d had a free pass before their wedding. But luckily, she managed to get through the rest of the booking without completely embarrassing herself.

After the honeymooners left, she decided that this day was going to need a big hazelnut latte. Normally she would go around the corner to Evie’s gallery, which had recently added an espresso bar. But she didn’t want to hear about Sean and the other hotshots—especially Josh. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened between them.

So she walked the extra three blocks to the Venus and Mars Café. It had the look of a French outdoor café, with its ironwork chairs and black awning. Its logo was a white cameo silhouette of a couple facing each other, with the merest sliver of space between their noses.

It reminded Suzanne of Josh and the way his face had hovered over hers, those gray eyes so unexpectedly serious. For such a playful guy, he kissed with impressive, knee-weakening intensity. It wasn’t just the kiss, either. It was the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d handled the whole situation.

Josh had opened Suzanne’s eyes to another side of him.

Of course, then he’d ruined it by acting like a jerk again. Which was the “real” Josh Marshall? Not that it mattered. One kiss meant nothing compared to wedding plans. That was just common sense.

She ordered her latte to go but lingered on her way out the door. She wasn’t ready to face more deliriously happy couples. Surely there must be someone here to chat with.

Yes! Merry Warren, a reporter for the town weekly, sat at one of the little round tables in the bay window. With her tortoiseshell glasses halfway down her nose, and her wild frizz of brown hair confined by a red scarf, she was pounding the keys of her laptop. A newspaper sat under a mug and a scone. Merry was always so focused when she worked. She forgot about mundane things like the breakfast waiting right under her nose.

Suzanne hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the creation of her next masterpiece, but finally Merry looked up and beckoned her over.

She sat down with a happy sigh. Sipping a hot beverage—any beverage, really—while chatting with a friend was one of her favorite pastimes.

“How’s everything in the honeymoon business?” Merry asked after they got the preliminaries out of the way.

“To be honest—and off the record, of course—I think they’re all under the influence.”

“All your clients are drunk? Hmm, sounds like they might have somethin’ in common with journalists.” Merry pulled a comical face.

“Yes, but they’re drunk on love. That’s even more dangerous than whiskey or whatever journalists drink.”

“We’re not too picky.”

“Well, apparently my clients aren’t either. They marry just about anyone they fall in love with. What kind of way is that to make a decision?”

Merry’s eyebrows drew together, creasing the smooth brown skin of her forehead. “Isn’t that the usual way? Or so I hear. Haven’t had to make that call yet.”

“Just because it’s the usual way doesn’t mean it’s the best way. Just look at the divorce rates in this country. Do you know how many times I’ve sat with a newlywed couple and thought, eh, fifty-fifty chance you’ll make it? There are exceptions, of course. Like Sean and Evie. They’re soul mates. But that doesn’t happen very often. Mostly, people choose their mates for the wrong reasons.”

Merry broke off a piece of her blueberry scone. “You have this all worked out, don’t you? Go on, then, hit me, I’m all about the facts. You have a solution for this problem?”

Suzanne took off the lid of her latte and blew on the foam. “I do. In my humble opinion, no one should leave their future up to emotion. Emotions change. The only reliable way to secure your future is to make a real commitment.” When Merry started to protest, she held up a finger. “But there’s a catch. The commitment has to be with someone who doesn’t make choices based on emotion. Both parties have to be equally logical and practical.”

Merry looked at her as if she were crazy. “Girl, you are just depressing the hell out of me now. You’re saying only two coldhearted people can ever make a marriage work?”

“No. Of course not. You don’t have to be coldhearted to be practical. Take me and Logan. We know why we’re getting married. We want the same kind of life. And we’re willing to commit to each other to achieve that life.”

“Are my ears bleeding yet? Because they sure feel like they are.”

Suzanne frowned at her friend. “I was sure you’d agree with me. You always talk about research and facts and all that.”

“Fact is, I’d rather be alone than have the kind of marriage you describe.”

“Hey.” Feeling rather wounded, Suzanne took shelter in her latte. “It’s the only way to guarantee that it’ll work. If you just go by emotions and love, anything could happen.”

“No one can guarantee anything. Not when it comes to romance.”

Suzanne propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Well, I can try, can’t I? What if all it takes is careful planning and execution of the plan?”

“And what if you’re dreaming, Suz?”

Suzanne let out a long sigh. “Darn you and your facts. You ruin everything.”

Merry laughed. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. Okay, changing the subject. Did you see this week’s Gazette?”

“I saw last week’s, has anything much changed?”

“Ooh, burn. Are you out for revenge now?”

“I’m just teasing. What big breaking news do we have in town this week?”

“Well, aside from the killer photo spread of our new hotshot crew—”

Suzanne snatched the paper toward her. Josh was right there in full color, doing pushups with his muscles bulging out of his workout shirt.

“Oooh, that got you going,” Merry teased.

Yeah, well…why wouldn’t it? He was insanely attractive. And she remembered exactly how good he felt pressed against her body.

“But that’s actually not what I meant to point out. Did you know that we have an honest-to-goodness fairy-tale castle in this town?”

Suzanne’s heart nearly stopped.

As far as she knew, there was only one castle-like house in Jupiter Point. She knew every nook and cranny of it.

Was Merry talking about—

She scrabbled through the pages of the newspaper. “Where? Where’d you see it?”

“Take it easy, hon. It’s in the real estate section. I just happened to see this grainy little photo, but then I looked it up on Zillow. It looks like an enchanted castle. It even has a name. Casa di Stella. Check it out.”

She turned her laptop so Suzanne could see. But Suzanne didn’t have to look at it to know what she would see. A Victorian whimsy of a house covered with climbing ivy, with two turrets and a drawbridge out front. It used to have a sort of moat, though now it was more of a swampy home for frogs.

“Why is it in the paper? Is there a story on it?”

“No, no. No story. But it just went on the market. It’s being listed at half a million dollars, which isn’t too bad if you consider that it’s practically a castle. Are you okay?”

Suzanne nodded dumbly. It was for sale. Old Mrs. Shrew must have finally decided she couldn’t maintain it anymore. Not that she ever could, with all those pets of hers. But why the hell hadn’t anyone told Suzanne? Jupiter Point Realty knew that if it ever went on the market, Suzanne wanted to be notified.

“Let’s go check it out,” Merry was saying. “I bet there’s a story there. Don’t you think?”

“Oh yes. There’s definitely a story.”

“You know something about this place, don’t you?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, spill it, girl! You can’t torture a reporter like that.”

Suzanne couldn’t drag her gaze away from the photo in the online real estate listing. “Well, I don’t know all of the story. But I did live there from the age of eight to fifteen.”

“Get the hell out!”

“It’s true. My parents bought that house when we moved to Jupiter Point. My mother fell in love with it at first sight.”

There was much more to the story, but she didn’t feel like dredging all that up now.

Merry turned the computer so they could both see the listing. She read aloud. “‘Historic Jupiter Point home is every childhood fantasy come true.’” She clapped her hands in glee. “Is that true? Was it your childhood fantasy come true? Did flocks of little tweety-birds fly through the window to help you clean the kitchen?”

“That’s not nice.” Suzanne had loved that house with every inch of her child’s heart. It had crushed her when they’d lost it.

“Sorry. I’m just…hey, I grew up in Brooklyn. I’m a little out of my league here. Look, it says ‘Vintage interior, period details.’ Well, you know what that means. Sketchy plumbing. Now we have something in common.”

The rusty color of the water that flowed from the kitchen sink had never bothered Suzanne. And she’d learned to use a toilet plunger early on. To her, it had been part of the fantastic adventure of living in a real castle. “Who needs plumbing when you have a drawbridge?”

“True that.” Merry continued reading from the ad. “First time on the market in twelve years. Call for showing.”

“Okay.” Suzanne put the lid on her to-go cup and rose to her feet. This couldn’t be a coincidence. It must be destiny—written in the stars. She was engaged and her beloved childhood home was back on the market. Everything was coming together in perfect harmony. That was what happened when you planned carefully. “I’m on it.”

“You’re going to go see it?”

“I don’t need to see it. I’m going to buy it.”

Ignoring Merry’s stunned expression, Suzanne tossed her latte in the trash bin on her way out the door. The need to act now, to stake her claim before anyone else fell in love with that photo in the paper, drove her forward. She picked up the pace and practically jogged the ten blocks to Jupiter Point Realty.

With Merry on her heels.

“How are you going to buy it, girl? Are you a secret millionaire?”

Merry, who was about eight inches shorter than Suzanne, had to jog to keep up with her. Suzanne slowed her pace, even though the thought of losing the castle to someone else made her want to scream.

“Of course not. But I’ve been saving up for a down payment since I was sixteen and scooping ice cream at the Milky Way.”

They reached the storefront of the real estate office, which had listings posted on the glass for passersby to peruse. Casa di Stella was posted front and center in a featured position. Suzanne resisted the urge to pull out a black sharpie and scribble “sold” on the glass.

“It’s still posted, that means it’s still available,” Merry pointed out. She adjusted her laptop under her arm. It looked as if she’d stuffed it haphazardly into its case when she’d bolted after Suzanne. “Don’t panic. Take a moment and tell me why you’ve been saving up for this eyesore all these years.”

Suzanne turned on her. “Take it back. You can’t call it an eyesore.”

Merry nearly dropped her laptop. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I’m not. I love every inch of that place.” Tears sprang to her eyes, shocking even her. “Every dilapidated inch. We had to sell it when my dad went bankrupt in the big market crash. I swore I’d get it back someday.” Merry touched her arm with a remorseful look.

“Sorry, Suz. I didn’t know it meant so much to you. I think it’s crazy fantastic and if you buy it, I promise I’ll come paint walls or drawbridges or whatever you have to do to fix up a castle.”

Suzanne threw her arms around her friend. “Really? You’d really do that?”

“Sure. Of course I would.” Merry seemed to be soothing her the way she would a volatile two-year-old. “It must have been so sad to leave it.”

She had no idea. It wasn’t just the house—everything had fallen apart after the crash. Her parents had fled the country when it turned out her father had done some frantic and illicit things to cover his ass. They still couldn’t come back without risking prosecution.

Suzanne shook off the memory. “It’s okay. I always knew I’d get a chance to buy it back. I’ve been planning for this ever since.” Critically, she surveyed her outfit. Sleeveless royal-blue top, pinstriped pencil skirt, kitten heels. Professional but not uptight. Luckily, she even had her prized Kate Spade clutch with her. “How do I look?”

Merry gave her an “a-okay” sign. “Lookin’ good, girl. I’d sell you a castle if I owned one.”

“Good isn’t quite good enough. I need to look—inevitable.” She pulled out a comb and ran it through her hair, then tied it in a low ponytail. Peering at the plate glass, she saw that she looked every inch the young professional about to make an offer for the house of her dreams. She drew in a deep breath and glanced at Merry, who looked highly amused by her storefront toilette.

“Good luck, baby doll. I need to get to work, but if you line up a showing, you better call me. I want to know how much painting’s in my future. Come here. Hug for good luck.”

They hugged one more time, then Merry hurried down the street toward the Mercury News-Gazette building. Suzanne stepped closer to the listing taped on the glass. Details were always important, and maybe there was something in the description that would help the Realtor look more favorably on her. Lord knew her financials weren’t her strong point. She could afford the down payment, but barely. But her history with the house, her familiarity with its drawbacks, her emotional attachment to it—maybe that would all count for something.

As she scanned the description, she stumbled across a line that made her freeze in her tracks.

“Seller prefers families with children. Contact only if you meet seller’s criteria.”