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REKINDLED [065-066-4.9]
By: BARBARA DELINSKY
SYNOPSIS:
We are calling this two-book volume Rekindled because each story tells
of a relationship that is, indeed, reborn. In the case of Flip Side of
Yesterday, the story opens with Chloe and Ross meeting again for the
first time, eleven years after a brief affair. In the case of Lilac
Awakening, the relationship between strangers, Anne and Mitch, is
renewed each month with repeated visits to a secluded Vermont cabin.
Harper collins 10 East 53rd Street, New York, N.Y 10022-5299
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are
products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
ISBN 0-7394-00681
Cover photo: 0 1998 by James Randkiey
A previous edition of Flip Side of Yesterday was published in 1983 by
Silhouette Books, a division of Simon & Schuster. A previous edition of
Lilac Awaken was published in 1982 by Dell Publishing (Co., Inc
Printed in the United States of America
Letter from BARBARA DELINSKY
Dear Reader, This volume contains two of my early books. Lilac Awakening
was originally published in 1982, Flip Side of Yesterday in 1983. Both
have been out of print for years. This is their very first reissue.
These books were initially written as romances, with the primary focus
on the love story. That hasn't changed in this volume. The plots are
exactly as they were in the original versions. I have, however, slightly
edited these books to reflect the growth in my writing style that has
occurred since their first publication.
We are calling this two-book volume Rekindled because each story tells
of a relationship that is, indeed, reborn. In the case of Flip Side of
Yesterday, the story opens with Chloe and Ross meeting again for the
first time, eleven years after a brief affair. In the case of Lilac
Awakening, the relationship between strangers, Anne and Mitch, is
renewed each month with repeated visits to a secluded Vermont cabin.
Since neither book is as long as my current books are, my publisher
agreed to put the two together and thereby enhance both your reading and
your fiscal pleasure.
I do love these books and sincerely hope you will, too!
My best always, Barbara Delinsky
CONTENTS
Flip Side of Yesterday 1
Lilac Awakening 105
Flip Side of Yesterday
The evening breeze was gentle, softly whispering as the long-legged
vision in white whisked across the dusky lawn, her dark hair streaming
behind her, and ran lithely up the broad stone steps.
"Chloe! There you are. I was beginning to worry." A man stepped from
beneath the deep brick overhang and fell into easy step beside her as
they passed through a large oak door into the high school and headed
down a long corridor.
"I'm sorry, Howard," she said, meaning it. Howard Wolschinski was the
state senator who had first sought her services. After three meetings,
she had come to like him. "I'd hoped to be on the road by four, but, I
swear, there was a conspiracy against me. First the phone, then my car."
"Anything major with either?" he asked.
"No on both counts. But I didn't clear Little Compton until five, and by
that time the rush-hour traffic was horrid. I drove as fast as I could.
I hope I haven't messed things up."
"You haven't. The meeting was called for seven thirty. You're only five
minutes late. It's given the crowd a chance to settle down." He guided
her around a corner with a light hand at her elbow and began the climb
as soon as they reached a staircase.
At the first landing, Chloe asked, "How's the turnout?"
He grinned sheepishly. "I only wish we did half as well at political
rallies. This is a welcome change from apathy. The auditorium is packed.
There must be several hundred people in there."
Chloe was surprised and decidedly pleased. "Several hundred? Not bad for
a county meeting in New Hampshire." She smiled, lowering her voice
dramatically. "But which side are they on? Are they for us or agin' us?"
Her humor drifted unanswered into the stale schoolhouse air as Howard
ushered her into the meeting hall, led her onto the stage, and ges tured
her into a seat. He took one by her side. As though on cue, the crowd
silenced and the moderator began.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in a voice made flat by its broad New
England slant, "on behalf of my friends and, uh"-he cast an encompassing
glance backward, then turned a cough into a snicker, bringing chuckit's
from the audience@'adversaries here on the stage with me, I would like
to thank you for coming tonight. It's a rare pleasure to see so many of
you gathered at once. We realized that the issue of the Rye Beach Resort
and Condominium Complex would stir a few of you to action, but we had no
idea how many. I don't believe we've had a response like this since that
talk of a state prison here a while back."
Chloe was wondering who the man was when Howard whispered, "He's Felix
Hart-town manager, commissioner of public safety, President of the
United States in his dreams."
She smiled at the quip. Nodding her thanks for the information, she
refocused on the speaker.
and they listened to us then, just as they listened to us when they
mentioned a hazardous waste disposal center six miles from us. And
before that, there was the matter of a state sales tax .. ."
The monologue went on, freeing Chloe for several seconds more. Bending
forward, she drew a notebook from her bag and prepared to make notes on
the opposition's points. That opposition sat to her left, occupying two
chairs on the far side of the one vacated by the moderator. Her
peripheral vision took in two men, one significantly taller and darker
than the other. They would be the state representative in favor of the
complex and the owner of the development company. Chloe knew neither of
their names, a situation that was about to be remedied.
"As for the others here tonight," the moderator said, "let me begin with
Howard Wolschinski. You all know Howard, our distinguished state
senator." He gestured from Howard to Chloe. "Chloe Macdaniel, geological
consultant and one of the founding partners of Earth Science Education,
Inc., out of Little Compton, Rhode Island." His hand went toward the
other side of the stage. "Bradbury Huff, your state representative"-she
jotted the name in her notebook@'and finally, the president of the
Hansen Corporation, Ross Stephenson .. .Chloe stopped writing
mid-stroke. Ross Stephenson? Ross Stephenson? She would never forget
that name. Heart pounding, she glanced at the fourth member of the
panel. He was the taller, darker one. Was it the same Ross Stephenson?
This man was nattily dressed and impeccably groomed. The Ross she had
known had been bearded and wore faded jeans, high boots, and a peasant
shirt of Indian cotton. Eleven years had passed. He might have changed.
How could she know?
His eyes. They were the same memorable amber. Eleven years ago they had
cut through all pretense and snagged her in the space of a breath. They
were just as striking now-and they were looking at her. He knew.
As all else faded, she felt shock, remembrance, pain. Then she tore her
eyes from his and lowered them to her paper. Ross Stephenson.
Unbelievable.
"Are you all right?" Howard whispered, seeming to sense her distress.
She contemplated lying. The society belle of New Orleans would have done
that. But today's Chloe was too honest. She whispered back, "I knew
him-Ross-a long time ago. I never expected to see him here." Or again,
for that matter, she added silently, struggling to keep her thoughts
from racing back in time.
"He shakes you up?"
She smiled ruefully. "He shakes me up."
"Will you be able to go on and speak?"
She took a deep breath. "I'll be fine once we get going." Unfortunately,
Felix Hart continued to talk, gesticulating more emphatically than ever.
"He's been sidetracked on the background of your pal. Listen."
Chloe had no choice.
"As many of you know," Felix drawled with an air of self-importance,
"Mr. Stephenson has been behind the building of two successful mall
complexes here in the Granite State. His company has left its mark from
coast to coast in factories, libraries, educational facilities, and
office buildings. The reputation of the Hansen Corporation precedes him
here. It is with great honor that I present to you, for an explanation
of his plans and hopes for the Rye Beach Complex, Mr. Ross Stephenson."
Chloe's heart was hammering again. When it was momentarily drowned out
by the applause of the crowd, she dared another glance at Ross. Again,
he was looking at her. She held her breath, barraged by memories that
gathered and surged. A slow pallor spread beneath her ivory skin. She
was thinking that she had to get out of there fast, when he finally
faced forward, pushed himself from his chair, and approached the dais.
"Whew," came a whisper by her ear. "That was some greeting."
Chloe felt the color rush back to her face. She realized her
misunderstanding when Howard went on. "Felix introduced him like he was
a visiting dignitary instead of the man whose blueprints we plan to tear
apart."
"Please keep reminding me," Chloe murmured, to which the senator
chuckled. Then they both settled back to listen to Ross Stephenson's
presentation.
For Chloe, listening was an awesome challenge. The sight of him standing
straight and tall before the microphone was a distraction in and of it
self. She couldn't help but admire the breadth of his shoulders and the
slow tapering of his frame toward narrow hips and long, lean legs. To
her chagrin, she couldn't help but remember the skin beneath, firm and
drawn taut over the muscles of shoulder, chest, and arms, its dark
matting of hair a cushion for her head, a playground for her fingers.
She forced those fingers to work now, making notes of words that she
barely heard, that her mind could barely assimilate. Still she made
herself concentrate, jotting down thoughts with increasing rapidity in
an attempt to keep her mind on the present and off the past.
But was it the past that brought her head up again and her gaze back to
Ross? Was she intrigued for old times' sake alone? His dark hair was
thick but well-trimmed and combed into as much submission as she guessed
it would go. Eleven years ago it had been longer and even thicker. With
the beard, he was like a bear-large, overpowering, dominant, but cuddly.
Now there was a refinement to him, a control in his stance, a
purposefulness. Addressing his audience, he conveyed competence and
intelligence.
And that audience was enrapt, some nodding, others shaking their heads,
all measuring his words with the keen interest that had brought them out
on this mild September night.
His voice was deep and resonant as it flowed through the mike and filled
the room. "The benefit to your community would be multifold. We're
proposing to use a parcel of land that is presently underused. The
resort will attract guests who will patronize local businesses. Food
outlets, entertainment houses, restaurants, real estate
establishments-all stand to gain from the Rye Beach Complex. The
condominium complex will bring untold tax revenue both to state and
local purses. Given the easy access to this area by the federal highway
system, the condominium units will be in high demand year round."
Chloe found herself listening closely, wondering how this could be the
same man who had once chosen to live on a communal farm in Kentucky.
That free-spirited Ross was a far cry from this entrepreneurial one.
Trying to reconcile the two was impossible.
Howard leaned close. "He's a powerful speaker. What do you think?
Will he have them sold before we even present our side?"
She answered without taking her eyes from Ross. "Lord, I hope not. I
often work with groups of shoreline residents. They feel strongly about
the land, which is their finest resource. I'll be appealing for the
preservation of that resource."
"You're a powerful speaker yourself, Chloe. I heard you address that
group on Martha's Vineyard on the subject of natural erosion patterns.
You had them eating out of the palm of your hand."
Chloe gave a crooked smile. "Many of the issues are the same here.
Let's hope they buy it, too."
Ross finished his formal presentation and opened the floor for
questions. A podium and microphone had been set up in the center aisle
of the auditorium. One by one, those residents with questions came
forward. Most asked about specifics, all of which Chloe noted on her
pad: the price range of the condominiums and the subsequent tax revenue;
the time projection for the erection of the units; the capacity of the
resort complex; and a listing of its self-contained facilities. At
length, Felix Hart stood and joined Ross at center stage.
"I'm afraid we have to move on now," he apologized, eyeing the large
clock on the front face of the balcony. "There's still another side to
consider. Thank you, Mr. Stephenson. You've been very direct and a great
help. Perhaps we'll have time for more questions later."
Chloe watched with growing excitement as Ross returned to his seat and
that excitement, for the moment, had nothing to do with him. She liked
talking to groups like this, and did it often. Though she loved the
scientific end of her job-the sample-taking and analysis, the computer
work, the intricate calculations of ground composition, weather-related
components, time predictions-she found the presentation of her findings
