Virginia McCullough - Girl In The Spotlight

Their daughter? “Get hold of yourself,” she said aloud. These similarities didn’t prove anything. She read on, following the highlights of Perrie Lynn’s skating life, including a newly added banner announcing the medal she’d just won. As a skater she was fresh and new, having spent the previous year on the senior circuit before bursting out of the pack during this, her second season, and surprising skating experts and fans alike.

“You look happy,” she whispered as she lightly brushed her fingertips across Perrie Lynn’s image on the screen. “That’s all I ever wanted.” It was the hope that overrode all the heartbreak in the walled-off part of Lark that remained isolated from the outside world. She’d longed—sometimes desperately—for her little girl to grow up loved and happy.

One photo on a website confirmed nothing. Still, Lark couldn’t help but think this beautiful young woman would go to sleep that night basking in her big win and happy with her life. “I hope it’s true,” Lark said, “and that one day soon you’ll tell me yourself.”

Reluctantly, she shut down the computer and left her desk to get ready for bed.

CHAPTER THREE

MILES ARRIVED FIRST, and after scanning the customers in the café, he waited for Lark inside near the front window. He studied the faces of women coming in to order to-go coffee or claim a table. He couldn’t be positive he’d immediately recognize her, even though he’d seen her pretty face on her website photo. And most coffee seekers entering Hugo’s were camouflaged in heavy coats and thick scarves, their hats pulled down over their ears as protection against the frigid December air.

He’d suggested Hugo’s because he’d been there before, the last time on a forgettable late-afternoon coffee date with a woman he’d met on a flight from Detroit to Green Bay. Pleasant enough conversation, but as so often happened in the past few years, nothing about the date compelled him to follow up. She hadn’t shown any enthusiasm for a second meeting, either. No matter. He’d lost nothing but a couple of hours.

Through the front window he spotted Lark walking toward the entrance. His whole body warmed at the sight of her. She appeared so young in a bright red jacket, jeans and knee-high black boots. A large leather bag hung from one shoulder. She gingerly stepped around patches of ice on the sidewalk, but then glanced up and caught him watching her. Her mouth turned up in a shy smile.

He walked closer to the door to greet her, wanting to lean over and kiss her cheek, maybe give her a quick hug. But she’d turned her face away to check out the café.

“How about that table in the corner?” She spoke in a businesslike tone, pointing to a small table for two.

“Fine,” he said, following her quick steps. Still not looking at him, she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair before she sat down. Then she pulled out a menu card from behind the napkin holder.

He also shed his coat and sat across from her. “Lark?”

She lifted her head, her expression quizzical.

“Hello.”

She snorted a laugh. “Don’t mind me, Miles. I’m nervous as can be.”

“Believe me, I understand.” He paused, but decided to acknowledge what they both knew to be true. “This is awkward.”

“No kidding.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and gave her head a quick shake. “But not as awful as bumping into you at the mall a few years ago.”

Oh, boy, she didn’t mince words. Neither would he. “True. That was excruciating.”

She swiped her hand across her forehead. “Whew. We got that out of the way.” She went back to studying the menu. “Let’s order right away. I’m starving. I usually eat much earlier than this.”

Right on cue, the waitress stopped at their table and took their identical orders of coffee and omelet platters with the cranberry-walnut muffin of the day. As if the intervening years had been wiped away, he recalled her big appetite, even the image of her shaking peanuts from a can into her palm. She’d snacked nonstop while they sat on his bed with open textbooks in front of them and unapologetically polished off huge plates of burgers and fries at the pub where they’d hung out.

“You’re grinning,” she said. “Are you shocked at my hearty breakfast order?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a snicker. “I was remembering how you ate me out of house and home.”

“And I haven’t slowed down a bit.” She peered into his face, as if really seeing him for the first time. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Neither have you,” he said. “Not on the outside, anyway.”

“Yes, the inside is another thing.” She leaned across the table, folding her hands in front of her. “Tell me about your daughter—and your wife, assuming you’re married.”

Since they hadn’t exchanged many details on the phone, he filled in the facts of his brief marriage to Andi. “Brooke is the light of my life, though, and her mother and I have managed to raise her together without too much conflict.”

“I’m divorced, too.” She spoke matter-of-factly. “And my son is by far the best thing to come from my misbegotten marriage. Evan is almost thirteen now, and pretty close to his dad, which is good.”

Miles nodded, happy to have this exchange out of the way. For reasons he didn’t understand, he was relieved that no husband was in the picture. Maybe because a spouse was more likely to interfere with plans Miles wanted to share only with Lark.

They were quiet when the waitress brought a carafe of coffee to the table and filled their white diner-style mugs. He watched Lark add cream from the pitcher drop by drop, until the color suited her. He remembered she was precise about her coffee.

“It’s odd how I recall little things about you,” he said, nodding at the cup in front of her.

“Is that so?”

“The way you drip cream into your coffee, for one thing.”

“My coffee habits and my huge appetite. That seems especially odd because we never knew each other well.”

“I know,” he said, suddenly filled with regret, “and I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “For what?”

He responded with a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m sorry we weren’t closer, or I regret that you went through so much.” He hesitated to find the right words. “I didn’t do as much as I could’ve.”

She averted her eyes and took a few sips of her coffee. His words seemed hollow, even to him. He could only imagine how ridiculous they must have sounded to her ears.

“I shouldn’t have jumped into the past like that,” he said. “Not when there’s something so immediate to talk about.”

“It’s natural, I suppose. I shuffled through some memories myself last night.” She smiled. “I’ll admit to spending a restless night. I guess I managed a couple of hours sleep. Evan was at his father’s house all weekend, so I was alone. He’ll come home after school today.”

Home was Lark’s house, just like Andi’s house was Brooke’s real home. He wondered if Lark’s ex was as resigned to that as he was.

After their omelets and muffins arrived, Lark squared her shoulders. “I’m calling this meeting to order.”

“No more small talk, huh?”

“Another time. I’d really like to find out more about your life, but my stomach is flip-flopping—and growling.” She tensed her shoulders and then released them. “I’m nervous. I’ll be okay when we get on with whatever we need to do.” She turned her head and glanced at the table for four behind her.

“Are you checking the place for someone you know?” he asked.

“Am I that obvious? But I’ve been silent for eighteen years and will stay that way, at least for now.”