Chapter Seven

The

aroma

of

lilacs

drifted

about

the

small

confines

of

the

bathroom

as

she

stood

at

the

sink,

blow

drying

her

hair.

Sandra

pulled

the

brush

through

her

long

red-brown

strands,

making

certain

the

wave

and

curl

was

flat

and

obeying.

Her

hair

lay

softly

down

the

middle

of

her

back

as

she

looked

in

the

mirror

at

her

reflection,

smiling

at

the

woman

who

stared back at

her.

She

loved

the

tanned

color

of

her

face,

neck

and

shoulders

above

the

towel

wrapped

snugly

around

her

bust,

and

how

it

made

her

bright

green

eyes

seem

to

shine

like

emeralds.

She

may

have

to

keep

going

to

the

tanning

booth

once

she

returned

home. Regardless

of

the

“C”

word

warnings.

The

sweet

sounds

of Jackie

Evancho

played

on

her

iPod

while

she

finished

getting

ready.

The

gentle

voice

and

soft

music

made

it

much

easier

to

concentrate

on

her

task.

She

retrieved

the

small

bag

of

cosmetics

from

the

chest

of

drawers

and

applied

a

little

mascara

to

her

unusually

long

lashes,

batting

her

eyes

playfully

at

the

green-eyed

image

looking

back

at

her,

thinking

of

how

much

her

sister

hated

her

for

them.

She

hummed

along

with

the

tunes

while

she

added

just

a

touch

of

blush

to

her

cheekbones,

a

soft

dusting

of

pink

to

her

eyelids

and

a

simple

coat

of

Chap

Stick

to

her

full

lips.

Nearly

ready,

she

told

herself,

turning

the

volume

up

on

her

iPod.

Stepping

back

into

the

main

part

of

the

hotel

room,

she

examined

the

few

outfits

she

had

brought

with

her.

She

was

glad

that

Cathy

insisted

she

buy

some

dinner

clothes,

even

though

Sandra

assured

her

she

wouldn’t

be

having

supper

with

anyone

she

would

need

to

dress

up

for.

She

appreciated

having

something

other

than

shorts,

jeans

and

tee

shirts

to

wear,

though

she

was

not

sure

if

she

would

ever

admit

this

to

Cathy.

Not

knowing

exactly

where

Creighton

had

chosen

to

take

them,

she

decided

on

the

black

dress

with

thin

spaghetti

straps,

certain

it

would

go

with

any

style

of

dining.

The

bottom

hem

fell

a

few

inches

above

her

knee

in

a

straight-line

cut,

and

the

scoop

top

showed

off

just

a

hint

of

cleavage

between

the

swell

of

firm

breasts.

All

the

exercising

she

had

done

over

the

past

two

years

had

added

to

her

bust

line,

rather

than

shrinking

it.

While

she

had

dropped

three

dress

sizes

in

her

hips,

stomach

and

thighs,

she

had

gained

one

in

her

bra

size.

Cathy

argued that she

had

all

the

right

equipment

but

didn’t

know

how

to

use

it.

Sandra

slipped

on

a

pair

of

thigh

high

nude

stockings

and

the

new

pair

of

four-inch

black

mule

pumps.

She

fastened

her

mother’s

diamond

stud

earrings

she

had

inherited

into

her

lobes

and

slipped

on

the

silver

chain

and

cross

her

grandmother

gave

her,

before

boarding

the

plane

to

France. Stepping back

into

the

bathroom, she

checked

out

the

image

of

the

woman

in the mirror

one

last

time.

She

looked

almost

unrecognizable

from

the

librarian

who

had

arrived

here

two

days

ago.

The

heels

made

her

legs

look

longer

and

slimmer

than

when

she

first

bought

the

dress,

but

not

in

a

scrawny,

chicken-leg

sort

of

way.

Her

mother

always

told

her

to

take

pride

in

herself,

to

show

the

world

that

she

had

brains

as

well

as

beauty,

but

she

had

opted

for

the

brains

part.

Cathy

was

the

attractive

one,

and

Sandra

could

never

see

herself

measuring

up

to

her

older

sister’s

looks.

Shaking

her

head,

Sandra

pushed

the

sad

thoughts

aside

and

concentrated

on

finishing

up

before

she

met

Creighton.

She

was

not

the

type

of

person

who

was

late

for

anything,

and

she

was

not

about

to

start

now.

As

she

finished

tucking

the

comb,

credit

card,

passport

and

I.D.

into

the

small

black

handbag,

her

cellphone

began

to

ring.

She

jumped

at

the

sound

of

it,

recognizing

her

sister’s

assigned

ring

then glanced

at

the

clock.

It

was

only

twenty

after

seven, she thought as she picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. She

still

had

time

before

joining

Creighton

for

supper.

 “Sandy,

how

was

your

day?”

Cathy

asked

enthusiastically.

“Did

you

do

anything

fun,

or

just

hang

out

at

the

beach

like

yesterday?

You

know

you’re

in

France,

the

greatest

country

of

lovers

in

the

world…well,

next

to

Italy

of

course.

You

should

go

out

and

have

some

fun.”

“Hello

Cathy,”

Sandra

said

at

last,

getting

a

word

into

the

stream

of

questions

when

her

sister

stopped to take a breath.

“How

is

everything

back

home?”

“The

same

as

always,

the

same

as

every

day

since

time

began.

Now

answer

me,

what

did

you

do

today?

I

really

hope

you’re

having

a

little

fun.”

“I

had

a

wonderful

day,

Cathy,

thank

you.

I

did

go

to

the

beach,

but

not

all

day.

You’d

have

been

proud

of

me.

I

went

scuba

diving.”

Her

tone

was

filled

with

a

genuine

excitement

that

radiated

down

to

her

toes as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“No

way!

That’s

amazing.

How

was

it?”

“It

was

wonderful,

and

I

have

a

ton

of

pictures

to

d******d

and

send

to

you.

I’ll

send

them

to

you

as

soon

as

I

can

get

to

a

computer.

I

was

really

scared

at

first,

but

I

got

over

it

with

Creighton’s

help.”

She

paused

suddenly.

Did

she

just

say

that?

She

braced

herself,

knowing

her

sister

had

not

missed

the

slip

and sighed deeply, preparing

herself

for

the

inevitable

inquisition.

“Creighton?”

Cathy

asked

in

an

excited

tone.

Here

it

comes,

Sandra

assured

herself.

“Who

is

Creighton?

What does

he

look

like?

Is

he

young?

Was

he

your

guide?

Come

on,

talk

to

me,

tell

me

all

about

him.”

“There

isn’t

much

to

say,”

she

began,

realizing

she

really

didn’t

know

anything

about

him,

other

than

he

was

drop-dead

gorgeous

and

had

the

most

incredible

sapphire

blue

eyes,

and

warmest

smile

she

had

ever

seen.

“I

met

him

today

at

the

beach

and

he

showed

up

on

the

boat

when

we

went

out

to

go

diving.

He’s

a

good

friend

with

the

boat

owner,

so

he

has

a

lot

of

diving

experience,

and

since

I

was

alone,

he

volunteered

to

be

my

partner.

It’s

because

of

him

I

have

such

great

pictures.”

“He

sounds

very

nice and very chivalrous,

but

what’s

he

like?

You

haven’t

told

me

anything

to

satisfy

my

curiosity.”

“Well,

he’s

young,

late

twenties

or

early

thirties

maybe,

but

I’m

not

sure.

He’s

got

dark

hair

and

deep-blue

eyes.

He’s

British

I

think,

from

his

accent,

so

he

must

be

a

tourist

like

me,

and

he’s

very

friendly

and

has

an

incredible

smile.

Other

than

that,

I

don’t

know

much

else

about

him.

I

mean,

it’s

hard

to

talk

while

you’re

at

the

bottom

of

the

Mediterranean

Sea.”

She

blushed,

knowing

that

the

lie

was

a

secret

one

between

her

conscious

and

herself.

After

all,

until

today,

she

didn’t

even

know

you

could

speak

under

water.

“He

sounds

absolutely

dreamy,

and

just

the

right

age

for

you.

Did

he

have

a

wedding

ring,

or

an

imprint

of

one?”

She

frowned

at

her

sister’s

question.

She

had

no

idea.

She

didn't

look.

“I

didn’t

see

any,”

she

said,

hoping

to

avoid

the

‘oh

Sandy,

you

need

to

be

careful

about

European

men.

They

like

to

shag

American

girls

on

vacation

and

then

go

back

to

their

wives

and

kids.’

It

was

an

argument

Cathy

had

been

echoing

the

past

two

years.

One,

unfortunately,

she

experienced

first

handed

while

on

vacation

in

Italy

five

years

ago.

“That’s

good

then.

So,

are

you

seeing

him

again?”

She

drew

a

deep

breath,

steadying

herself

for

the

next

round

of

questions.

“Yes, as a

matter

of

fact,

I

am

having

dinner

with

him

in

a few

minutes.

We’re

meeting

down

in

the

lobby

at

eight.”

“No

way!”

Cathy

shouted

through

the

phone.

“That’s

awesome.

Where

are

you

going?

What

are

you

wearing?

You’re

not

in

jeans

are

you. Please

tell

me

you’re

in

a

dress.

What

about

the

maroon

dress

you

bought,

you

know,

the

strapless

one?

That

looks

amazing

on

you.

No

wait,

that’s

more

of

a

second

date

dress.

Wear

your

black

one,

the

one

with

the

spaghetti

straps.

That

one

is

really

sexy

and

gives

just

a

hint

of

cleavage

without

going overboard,

and

wear

a

pair

of

hose,

they

make

your

legs

look

silky and

men

love

that, and

the

mule

pumps. Oh,

that

will

make

you

look

amazing.”

Sandra

smiled. Nice

to

know

she

picked

up

a

few

hints

of

how

to

dress

to

attract

a

man’s

attention

over

the

years,

watching

her

sister

flaunt

herself

around

town.

“And

how

exactly

should

I

wear

my

hair?”

she

asked

in

an

amused

tone

as

she

picked

off

an

imaginary

piece

of

lint

from

her

dress.

Cathy

would

flip

if

she

saw

her

now,

she

thought.

“Up,

of

course,

but

not

in

your

librarian

bun.

No

wait,

down,

straight.

Did

you

take

a

flat

iron

with

you?

Straight

is

far

sexier

than

the

bun-thing.

Men

love

to

run

their

hands

through

a

woman’s

hair.

It

helps

keep

the

head

still

when

you’re

kissing or

doing

other

things

that

I

know

you’d

never

do, and

don’t go crazy

with

the

jewelry

or

make-up…not

that

you

would

of

course.

Keep

it

simple,

that

will

be

very

alluring,

plus

it’s

much

easier

to

clean

up

in

the

morning,

should

you

happen

to

spend

the

night

away

from

your

room.”

“Thank

you,

Cathy,

I’ll

take

your

advice,”

she

smiled

again

as

she

caught

a

glance

of

herself

in

the

mirror

above

the

chest

of

drawers.

Sandra

knew

if

it

were

Cathy

going

out

with

Creighton,

she’d

be

on

her

back,

offering

him

a

different

type

of

dessert

than

what

the

restaurant

supplied. Somehow, that thought was extremely uncomfortable to her.

“I’d

better

go

if

I’m

going

to

implement your suggestions into my wardrobe.

I’ll

call

you

tomorrow

and

let

you

know

how

things

go.

I

love

you,

Sis.

Tell

Nana

and

Papa

I

love

them,

and

I’ll

talk

to

them

soon.”

“Sounds

good,

oh

and

don’t

forget

to

forward

those

pictures

to

us.

Did

you

get

any

of

this

Creighton?

I’d

love

to

see

him.”

“No,

sorry,

just

fish

and

a

couple

of

sharks.”

“Sharks?

No way!”

Sandra

smiled

into

the

phone.

She

loved

her

sister

and

she

enjoyed

shocking

her.

“I’ve

got

to

go

or

I’m

going

to

be

late.

I’ll

call

you

tomorrow.”

“Okay,

but

listen

to

me

Sandy,”

Cathy

said,

her

tone

suddenly

very

serious.

“I

know

I’ve

warned

you

about

European

men,

but

please

be

careful.

I

don’t

want

you

to

have

a

summer

romance

that

breaks

your

heart,

and

leaves

you

crying

for

someone

who’s

not

around.

By

the

way,

did

you

get

on

birth

control

before

you

left

home?”

Sandra

blushed

profusely.

“Will

you

stop

worrying

so

much

about

me,

please?

I’m

a

big

girl

and

I’m

quite

capable

of

taking

care

of

myself.

Now

I

really

have

to

go.

I’ll

call you

tomorrow.

Bye.”

Sandra

didn't

wait

to

hear

her

sister

hang

up

but

took

the

initiative

and

pushed

the

end

button

on

her

phone.

Did

she

remember

birth

control?

What

an

obscene

question,

however,

after

the

few

hours

she

spent

with

Creighton,

she

realized

that

she

probably

should

have

thought

a

little

more

seriously

about

it.

With

a

deep

blush,

Sandra

chose

to

ignore

the

X-rated

thoughts

that

began

to

filter

through

her

mind

and

finished

up

to

leave.

One

last

look

at

herself

in

the

mirror

of

the

bathroom

and

she

was

ready

to

go.

The

clock

on

the

bedside

table

read

seven

fifty-five. Maybe

she

should

wait

until

she

was

sure

he

was

really

in

the

lobby.

She

could

call

the

front

desk

and

ask

them

if

he

was

there,

then

she

would

know

if

she

should

order

dinner.

She

checked

her

clutch

bag

again

for

her

credit

card,

just

in

case

she

got

stood

up,

and

added

her

phone

so

she

could

call

Cathy

and

cry

on

her

shoulder

about

how

stupid

she

acted.

Maybe

she

should

just

wait

for

him

in

the

bar. That

way,

if

he

didn’t

show

up,

she

would

not

be

sitting

alone

in

the

lobby

all

night

like

a

pathetic

fool.

Thoughts

that

Creighton

would perhaps change

his

mind

never

occurred

to

her

until

now. Why

didn’t

she

think

about

this

earlier?