His ex? That’s all she was? All the time they’d spent together. The long conversations they had on the phone. He’d told her he was in love with her. At eighteen, she’d thought they’d be high school sweethearts. Chantelle wrung her hands together. This wasn’t the time for reminiscing.
With a grim face like a carved mask, Lance didn’t take his eyes off her. He was different. This was not the boy she knew in high school. He had changed. Better to know now than later. Perhaps it was a good idea to leave Delta Heights.
Chantelle squared her shoulders. No surrender. She had a job to do. “I understand, but we’re adults. My boss assigned this story to me because of my history with this town. Delta Heights’ own celebrity is getting married. They want to know the details. I’m here to do that.”
“So you can keep this professional?”
She cocked her head to the side. “I am.”
He sipped his coffee before answering. “I’ll think about it.”
That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. “What?”
“You heard me. Now I have another important business meeting so I’ll be in touch. You haven’t changed your number, have you?” His voice had a hint of sarcasm.
“No, have you?”
“No.”
She swallowed the snarky comments threatening to escape her lips. “I understand your concern, but I’m on a deadline.”
He bowed as a gentleman would before a queen. “I wouldn’t dream of making you wait.”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “Can you give me a time frame?”
“I’ll let you know,” he said.
Chantelle narrowed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll see you around.” With that, she walked to the door. Stalking to her car, she plucked at her suit jacket. Who did he think he was? Just because he came from a wealthy family didn’t give him the right to… she sighed.
Perhaps someone else should profile the wedding. Was there too much bad blood between them? He’d won her heart at eighteen but had also broken it. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she pulled out of Lance’s driveway. She didn’t plan on visiting the cemetery this soon, but today Chantelle made an exception.
***
Lance didn’t believe her. Not one bit. He couldn’t work with her. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Plus, all he saw was her tear-stained face he’d left her with all those years ago. Forever imprinted in his memory.
Shaking his head, he filled his thermos with coffee.
He couldn’t be late since he missed last week. Lance asked his mother to come with him, but she refused as always.
Losing a child wasn’t easy, so he never questioned his mother’s reasons for not visiting his little sister’s grave. Where was his father? The man never slowed down, always looking for the next deal, and expected Lance to do the same.
He grabbed his jacket and briefcase and proceeded to his 2018 Cadillac CTS. He’d stop on the way to purchase flowers for his sister. Though she was only fourteen, she loved yellow roses. Driving down the Main Street in downtown Delta Heights, he bypassed the parked cars. Light posts with hooks held flowerpots, while sapling trees spaced along the sidewalk.
Parking in front of the flower shop, he spotted the planters filled with colorful flowers and trailing ivy. Lance straightened his tie. If only he could live in the heart of town. Though many in his graduating class wanted to bolt after graduation, he loved the community. He inhaled fresh flowers and greenery once he stepped inside, and he heard the suction of the display case door.
“Good morning, Lance?” Hilda greeted him with a warm smile on her face.
“I need half a dozen yellow roses, please.” He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket.
“I know what this is for.”
Lance paid for the flowers and then stuffed extra cash in the mason jar on the counter. Hilda lost her youngest son, who was in the military. She took donations from customers to help the families of wounded soldiers and those who had lost loved ones while fighting for America.
“Thank you, as always.” He grabbed the small bouquet.
Hilda winked at him before he left the shop. Lance played the jazz station on his radio once back inside his car. Chantelle was the reporter? He knew she wrote for a magazine, but Grant didn’t give him the name. He should have dug deeper. Why didn’t he?
He gripped the steering wheel, but then he loosened his hold. Why did her presence bring a chill to his skin? His chest heaved. Turning into the parking area of the graveyard, he entered through the iron gates. He followed the paved driveway and parked his car.