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“Okay, which do you prefer, Hershey’s or Dove chocolate?” Tollie asked.
“Dove,” Alana answered, never taking her eyes from the computer screen.
“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
“Star Wars.”
Tollie raised an arched eyebrow. “Even the set of prequels with that horrible Jar-Jar creature?”
“Yep.”
“Ew. There’s no accounting for taste, is there? Early-morning sex or late-night romance?” Tollie probed.
That last one made Alana turn to look at Tollie with a frown. “Where do you get these crazy questions from?”
Tollie smiled and as usual it lit up her pretty face. She was tall, plump and curvy with a stunning complexion and thick black hair that was always perfectly styled. “I told you, I get them from Facebook. Answer the question,” she urged.
Alana wasn’t about to go there, but she was curious. “There’s a Q-and-A page on Facebook? I’ve never seen it.”
Tollie took a seat across from Alana’s desk and waved her iPad at her. “It’s from that group I belong to called Building Relationships Around Reading. An amazing woman named Sharon Blount started it and it’s for women who love to read and share their thoughts about books, life, love, everything. Every day there’s something new and interesting, like these questions. I love them,” she murmured as she continued to scan the screen. “You can really get to know people just by how they answer simple questions.”
Alana turned to face Tollie with a noncommittal expression. “I doubt that. It seems like it would take a lot more than that to develop a real understanding of another person.”
“Maybe. And maybe it’s just as simple as it seems. I’m going to ask the group about it on Saturday when we have an open chat. It’s both educational and cathartic.”
Alana was about to disagree when Tollie looked at her with a sheepish expression. “I came in here to let you know that there’s someone here to see you and then I got caught up. Sorry about that.”
“Customer or salesperson?” Without realizing it, Alana had slipped into Tollie’s mode of questioning.
“Customer, definitely, but he could sell me anything. I’d buy old shoes and day-old sandwiches from him, honey,” Tollie answered as her eyes locked on her screen again.
Curious, Alana went to the showroom to find Roland waiting for her with his massive arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched. She was surprised to see him, especially wearing an expression like that. Clearly he was upset about something and she approached with caution.
“Good morning, Roland. Can I help you with something?”
He glared down at her before answering in a snarky voice she’d never heard from him before. “Yeah, I’m here on Lucas’s recommendation. I came over in person because I know from personal experience that you don’t know how to answer a phone or return a message,” he said. His voice was so deep that it sounded like he was growling at her.
She blushed a little because it was true; she’d been avoiding him with the skill of a spy hiding from the CIA or something. She had ignored his calls, deleted his messages and stayed away from any place she thought he might be. He’d been back in town since before the New Year and it was the first time she’d seen him and it was a week before Valentine’s Day.
She looked down at his shoes because it was too hard to meet his eyes, but that was childish and she was a professional. She cleared her throat before asking him again how she could help him.
“You fix cars, right? Well, mine needs fixing,” he said.
“Is it here?”
Without answering he put one of his large hands around her upper arm and led her through the showroom, taking her out the main entrance and heading to the service bay doors.
A strange sensation flooded her body as the warmth of his hand encircled the skin left bare by her short-sleeved polo shirt. It was like heat lightning ziggety-zagging all over her body, like a pinball pinging off every sensitive nerve ending she possessed. Ping, left nipple, zing, right nipple, ding-ding-ding, Miss Alana! She had to bite her lower lip to keep from giggling at the random thoughts she was having. She and her sisters always referred to their lady parts as Miss; Miss Alana, Miss Alexis and so on.
Another silly thought occurred to her and she almost choked. Pinball or Xbox? She’d have to spring that on Tollie one day, that is if she could still think straight after this. She was breathless when they reached the doors but she still gasped at what was waiting for her.
“Oh, Roland, I’m so, so sorry about this,” she said softly.
“This” was Roland’s pride and joy, his much-loved and very carefully maintained 1967 Thunderbird that had belonged to his grandfather. Roland had inherited the car from the older man and he loved it as much as, if not more than, the man who’d purchased it brand-new so many years ago. It had looked showroom-new the last time Alana had seen it; now it was all but destroyed.
The front end of the car was smashed in, along with the driver’s side of the car. The glistening black finish was no more, the windshield and driver’s-side window were crushed into thousands of crystal shards and the front and rear tires splayed out, a clear sign that the frame had been warped and buckled. Her heart was heavy as she surveyed the damage. She could only imagine how Roland was feeling. Without thinking about what she was doing, she put her arms around his waist and gave him an awkward hug.
“Were you driving when this happened? No one told me you were in an accident,” she said as her large eyes locked with his.
His bad mood was already apparent but her soft words seemed to trip his anger trigger again. “Why would anybody tell you when it’s obvious that you have no interest in me? That would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”
Wow, he was really furious. Alana didn’t react to his harsh words, but he showed a slight regret for his remark as he answered her question. “No, I wasn’t driving when it happened. It was stolen. It was being stored in my dad’s garage in Chicago and somebody decided that they needed it,” he told her in a much calmer voice. “To make a stupid story short, the little jerk was racing it and ended up in a three-way collision. He barely escaped with his life and if he’d been driving anything else he’d have ended up a bloody smear on the road. But all that notwithstanding, I want to know if you can fix it.”
“Of course I can,” she said at once. “I have the best crew in the south and we can get it back to its original condition in no time at all. But how did it get here? It sounds as though the accident was in Chicago.”
Roland was walking around the wreckage, looking lost. He was obviously not listening to a word that Alana was saying. “The insurance company totaled it out. The investigator said it was hopeless. Are you sure you can do something with it?”
He looked so forlorn that Alana went to his side and took his hand, squeezing it to get his attention. “Roland, dear heart, I promise you that this car can and will be restored to all its former beauty. It’ll take a few weeks, but I won’t let you down, truly I won’t.”
She finally penetrated his fog and he gave her a weak smile. “You probably think I’m a big fool for acting like this, but this was my granddad’s ride. I love it almost as much as I loved him. That’s why I had it hauled down here, because I saw what you did to Lucas’s old Range Rover. If you could make that scrap heap look brand-new I figured there might be a chance for Black Beauty.”
“Black Beauty?”
His finely planed cheekbones reddened as he admitted that his car was indeed named as such.
“People who love their cars always name them,” Alana assured him. “My crew will work wonders with your baby, so rid your mind of all concern. I appreciate your trust in me and Custom Classics and we will not let you down. Come inside and let me introduce you to the people who’ll be restoring Beauty. Everything’s going to be fine,” she added in a soothing voice.
Roland had always loved the sound of Alana’s voice and he trusted her skills implicitly. But right now, more than anything else, he loved the feel of her hand in his because she hadn’t let go of him and he saw no reason to change that.
* * *
Roland was totally impressed with Custom Classics, and even more impressed with its owner. The place was immaculately clean, with polished windows and floors and not a speck of dust or clutter anywhere. The retail area of the showroom was neatly organized and labeled for easy shopping; the lounge area for customers was furnished with comfortable chairs, a flat-screen TV, a coffee bar and vending machines. Everything exceeded expectations for an automotive facility; there was nothing that wasn’t up-to-date and state-of-the-art in the building.
Even her staff was top-of-the-line. He met the mechanics, a tall redhead named Rachel, a middle-aged man named Lorenzo and a young woman who looked like a runway model without the makeup and ridiculous heels. Her name was Tasha and she was as business-minded as she was gorgeous.
He was also properly introduced to Tollie, who gave him an open, inquisitive smile that showed curiosity but no flirtation, which was a refreshing change of pace for him.
By the time he’d met all the men and women who worked in the different areas, from body work to interiors to specialty painting, he was sure that if anyone could reassemble his dream car, it was the Custom Classics team of experts. He said as much to Alana as they walked back to her office.
“I’m actually feeling much better now. I’ve been in an incredible funk since it happened. It was just out of the blue, completely unexpected. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I got the call about Black Beauty it was like hearing that someone had died. It was a tragedy, even though that’s a really extreme word for a car wreck. I thanked God that nobody was killed or seriously injured, but it was still like the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m embarrassed to be telling you all this stuff, but the truth is the light,” he said quietly.
Alana invited him to sit down on the sofa and she sat next to him, putting her hand over his. Her next words surprised him.
“You really loved your grandfather, didn’t you? And that car was a part of him, a symbol of everything he meant to you. Tell me about him.”
Roland’s eyes lit up as he began regaling Alana with stories about the man who was such a huge part of his life. Talking to her was an incredibly cathartic experience, primarily because she was an active and attentive listener. But it was also because this was what he’d wanted, a chance to really be with her, get to know her. It would have been better if he hadn’t been rambling on like a loser dude in a chick flick, emoting all over the place about a damned car, of all things. It was time to regroup and quick.
“Thanks for listening to me, Alana, I appreciate it. And I really appreciate you and your crew handling my car. Let me take you to dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”
Alana didn’t hesitate in giving him an answer, although it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I’d love to, Roland, but this is take-out night. Adrienne is still staying with me and I don’t know if you’ve had much experience with pregnant women, but her mouth is set for barbecue and it wouldn’t be safe for me to thwart her hormonal taste buds.”
“Some other time, then,” he said with a decidedly cool tone of voice. Okay, so she was shutting him down again. He rose and was about to leave when she surprised him again.
“If you don’t mind hanging out with me and Adrienne, how about coming over to my place for dinner? You can take me out for an expensive meal some other time,” she added teasingly.
Pow, just like that, there she was—the funny, outgoing woman he hadn’t seen since the wedding. She walked him to the door and she gave him directions to her house.
Roland left Custom Classics feeling much better than when he’d arrived. Black Beauty was in good hands and he was finally making a move in the right direction with Alana. Things were looking up.
* * *
A few hours later, Adrienne was finishing setting three places on the dining room table when the doorbell rang. She smiled and went to answer it. It had to be Roland, since she’d sent Alana out on an errand. It was Roland, looking good and smelling very nice. He was bearing gifts, too: a bouquet of flowers and two bottles of wine, one alcohol-free just for her.
“How nice! Please come in and have a seat. Alana will be right back. Let me take those for you,” she said as she held out her hands for his gifts. “You can put your jacket in the closet right there,” she added.
After stowing his jacket, Roland looked around Alana’s living room. It was elegant and stylish, looking like something that came out of a fancy magazine.
The colors were what really caught his attention; Alana or whoever had decorated the room had a very artistic eye. Most of the colors in the room came from the paintings that were cleverly arranged on the walls. There was a fireplace wall with a glass mantel that also displayed photographs and he went over to examine them.
He recognized them as family pictures, showing Alana’s sisters and her parents over the years. He was smiling at a picture of a much younger Alana combing Ava’s hair when he noticed a striking shot of Alana and a man who was obviously in love with her. They were in love with each other, judging by the glowing smiles on their faces and the unmistakable look of love in their eyes.
“That’s Alana and Samson, her husband,” Adrienne said softly. She’d come back into the room as quietly as a cat. Her soft voice might have startled him, had he not been studying the portrait so carefully. “She always said the day she met him was the best day of her life.” She paused a moment and looked at the picture before adding, “The worst day of her life was the day he died.”
Roland finally understood what people meant when they said they felt like they’d been hit by a sledgehammer. It was like all the wind had been knocked out of his body for a few seconds. He was trying to think of something to say, but words failed him. What was the proper protocol when someone gave you information like that? Luckily, Adrienne kept talking.
“He was her college sweetheart. They ran off and got married in front of a justice of the peace the day after she graduated. Mama and Daddy were so mad,” she laughed. “But they were very happy together. They did everything together, even their business. Custom Classics was Sam’s dream and she worked with him to make it come true. For a long time I didn’t think she’d get over the pain of losing him.”
Clearing his throat, Roland tried to level the conversational playing field. “Sorry to hear about her loss. I can see that she’s a very strong lady,” he mumbled.
“Strong, but not invincible. Everyone needs someone in their life, that special someone who loves them and cares for them, someone who holds them tight at the end of a long day. Sissie is one of the strongest women I know, but it’s not everything...” Adrienne’s voice trailed off and she raised both her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
After a moment of silence, Roland asked, “Where did she get all these paintings? She must really like art.”
“She loves it. And to answer your question, Alana painted all of these. She’s a very talented artist, as you can see. She majored in art. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he mumbled as he began to examine a nearby landscape more carefully. Now that he understood that the art was Alana’s creation, the decor of the room made even more sense.
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