Read Online More than the Sum by Fran Riedemann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fran Riedemann
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over to her. Or, even better, she would the guest book and leaving before he saw her. Not showing up at all was option three, but she’d planned her whole day around the showing, plus she had promised Rick she would attend. One option out of her control was the possibility he might not recognize her in her present state. Regretfully, she had forgotten to program his number into her cell phone, which was serving to keep her honest, because had she done so it was a safe bet she would have already concocted a lame excuse.
When she arrived at the gallery she observed, with horror, that the showing was taking place in a very trendy area of shops just north of where Georgetown’s Main Street was, and not where she had pictured. It was one of the many side streets, where quaint old homes had been converted into unique boutiques, galleries, and restaurants. Strangers to the area might miss it altogether, if they didn’t know to look for it, but locals claimed these hot spots as their little secret, and went there to be seen. The only saving grace, Brittany concluded, was that she wouldn’t know anyone. Catching her crumpled reflection in the gallery’s front window she decided they might not let her in.
Having noticed her reflection again was enough to reduce her self-esteem to below-zero. By now her stomach was growling so loudly she was sure there was an echo, and she discovered, while nervously fiddling with her hair, and she had lost an earring. Added to that, her sunburned neck was killing her. Note to self , she thought, never be without Advil and lip gloss. She could foresee this evening was going to replay itself every time she got ready to go out for a long time.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. A faintly familiar masculine voice commented, “Well, fancy meeting you here.”
She could feel herself blushing, deciding that getting dumped had been moved to the second worst night of her life. Without seeing him she recognized the voice, and her already flushed face felt even hotter. She was sure he'd used the word fancy on purpose.
Pulling her eyes away from the reflections in the window, she turned toward the voice, crossing her fingers that it didn’t belong to who she thought it did. .But, it did. Her ex’s attorney, Allan Chandler, was standing across from her .
… Of all the rotten luck . “Why, Mr. Chandler…He-he-hello.” Under the circumstances she felt eloquent.
When their eyes met she couldn’t help but notice his bemused expression, making her recall how patronizing he had been when she saw him in his office when he reminded her what she was wearing when they met the first time. “You may call me Allan, if you’d like.” He said, smiling. “Might I call you Brittany?” She wasn’t imagining it, he definitely looked smug.
“ Sure.” She couldn’t believe it. Of all people… Fancy that!
“ Are you here for the show?”
“ Uh-huh.” Don’t quote me , her brain screamed. Now she was hoping she would wake up and realize she was having one of those nightmares that seemed real, but wasn’t.
“ Are you meeting someone?” he asked.
“ No. I came alone.” There! It was out! She hoped it would suffice for him to leave her alone.
“ Well, then, please join me.” He held out his arm for her to take. Why does he have to look so darn amused? One of Brittany’s pet peeves was being patronized.
Reluctantly, she took his arm, trying to size him up out of the corner of her eye, and sheepishly wondering how to not let his attractiveness affect her. While not tall, he was trim and athletic looking. Possibly a swimmer , she thought , or a tennis player for sure . His hair was dark and thinning, but in that GQ sort of way. He was smartly dressed in dark gray slacks, which she was sure were Italian, a black silk shirt, with a Gucci scarf draped loosely around his neck. She looked down; he was wearing black Italian
When she arrived at the gallery she observed, with horror, that the showing was taking place in a very trendy area of shops just north of where Georgetown’s Main Street was, and not where she had pictured. It was one of the many side streets, where quaint old homes had been converted into unique boutiques, galleries, and restaurants. Strangers to the area might miss it altogether, if they didn’t know to look for it, but locals claimed these hot spots as their little secret, and went there to be seen. The only saving grace, Brittany concluded, was that she wouldn’t know anyone. Catching her crumpled reflection in the gallery’s front window she decided they might not let her in.
Having noticed her reflection again was enough to reduce her self-esteem to below-zero. By now her stomach was growling so loudly she was sure there was an echo, and she discovered, while nervously fiddling with her hair, and she had lost an earring. Added to that, her sunburned neck was killing her. Note to self , she thought, never be without Advil and lip gloss. She could foresee this evening was going to replay itself every time she got ready to go out for a long time.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. A faintly familiar masculine voice commented, “Well, fancy meeting you here.”
She could feel herself blushing, deciding that getting dumped had been moved to the second worst night of her life. Without seeing him she recognized the voice, and her already flushed face felt even hotter. She was sure he'd used the word fancy on purpose.
Pulling her eyes away from the reflections in the window, she turned toward the voice, crossing her fingers that it didn’t belong to who she thought it did. .But, it did. Her ex’s attorney, Allan Chandler, was standing across from her .
… Of all the rotten luck . “Why, Mr. Chandler…He-he-hello.” Under the circumstances she felt eloquent.
When their eyes met she couldn’t help but notice his bemused expression, making her recall how patronizing he had been when she saw him in his office when he reminded her what she was wearing when they met the first time. “You may call me Allan, if you’d like.” He said, smiling. “Might I call you Brittany?” She wasn’t imagining it, he definitely looked smug.
“ Sure.” She couldn’t believe it. Of all people… Fancy that!
“ Are you here for the show?”
“ Uh-huh.” Don’t quote me , her brain screamed. Now she was hoping she would wake up and realize she was having one of those nightmares that seemed real, but wasn’t.
“ Are you meeting someone?” he asked.
“ No. I came alone.” There! It was out! She hoped it would suffice for him to leave her alone.
“ Well, then, please join me.” He held out his arm for her to take. Why does he have to look so darn amused? One of Brittany’s pet peeves was being patronized.
Reluctantly, she took his arm, trying to size him up out of the corner of her eye, and sheepishly wondering how to not let his attractiveness affect her. While not tall, he was trim and athletic looking. Possibly a swimmer , she thought , or a tennis player for sure . His hair was dark and thinning, but in that GQ sort of way. He was smartly dressed in dark gray slacks, which she was sure were Italian, a black silk shirt, with a Gucci scarf draped loosely around his neck. She looked down; he was wearing black Italian
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