One Mans Treasure

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It is intended for mature audiences only. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All players are over the age of eighteen unless otherwise stated. I wanted to showcase my work as a romance writer. I got inspired by the recent reunion with a high school classmate that has had a crush on me for more than thirty years. I have been single for almost a decade. Reuniting with him helped me to believe in love again. I hope that anyone who has been hurt by someone they cared for that you find in your own life that there are people out there willing to treat you like you deserve to be treated and who don't care how broken you are, all they ask of of you is to love you. Enjoy!

-BBD

He's going to be so mad. Again. I stare at the white stick in my hand, willing a second line to appear in the window. Damn it! Why can't I get pregnant? It's been a year since we started trying. Well, I guess I'd better face the music.

I open the bathroom door.

"Well?" Art has his arms folded while leaning on the wall.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

"What?" he bellows. He snatches the test from my hand.

"Damn it, Camille! What is wrong with you?" He flings the stick across the room.

"Art, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry? Yeah, you are sorry! Sorry and tired! You're all washed up! You're obviously too old to have children!"

"Old? I'm only thirty-two!" That's hardly ready for Medicare!"

"Like I said, you're too old to conceive! Your eggs are too old! You'd probably give me a child with sixteen eyes!"

"How could you say something so cruel?" Tears sting my eyes. "You're the same age as me, Arthur!"

He scoffs.

"Men are virile well into their seventies and beyond! I'll be a grandfather twice over before you get pregnant!"

"You rotten son of a bitch! You don't care about me or my feelings!"

"You're damn right I don't! You promised me we would have children when we got married!"

"Why do you assume it's my fault? The last time I checked, it takes two to make a baby! Maybe you're the problem! Ever think of that? Maybe your little soldiers aren't marching properly!"

Art turned on me fiercely.

"How dare you suggest such a thing? I'm a perfect specimen of a man! There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Oh yes there is! You're a selfish bastard! You make it sound like I'm doing this on purpose!"

"Maybe you are," he snarled. "Are you secretly taking the Pill?"

"What? No!"

The doorbell interrupts our arguing.

"Get the door," he snaps.

"Why? You expecting company?"

"Maybe."

I stomp out of the bedroom to the front door and open it. I jump back. A young woman at least ten years my junior in a crisp white halter top and hip higher jeans and a bright jewel in her navel stands there.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Arthur," she says sweetly.

"You mean Mr. Jennings?" I raise an eyebrow.

"No, I mean Arthur."

"Crystal, come in." Art says from behind me. His tone has completely changed.

I block the door with my arm.

"Who are you and how in the hell do you know my husband?"

She looks smug.

"Arthur, are you going to tell her, or should I?"

"Tell me what!" I turn to my husband fiercely. "Start explaining yourself, Arthur! Who is this woman?"

"I'm his fiancée."

"WHAT?"

I close my eyes. I breathe in and out slowly. My heart is racing. My blood is running cold. My heart is pounding against my rib cage in an angry rhythm.

"Camille," Arthur says calmly, "you didn't expect me to be faithful when you can't give me the one thing I want, now did you?"

I turn to him, slowly.

"Is that what this is about? I'm having trouble getting pregnant so you go out and cheat on me? Arthur, I don't deserve this! I have been nothing but a good wife to you! I helped you build your business from the ground up! I supported you and stood by your side when you had nothing! I have been there with you, day and night!"

"All that is fine, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you won't produce heirs for me."

"We can adopt a child! There are so many homeless children that need loving parents!"

Arthur tosses his head back and laughs.

"You think I'm going to share my riches with some filthy orphan or foster child? Don't make me laugh, Camille."

"How can you be so heartless and cruel?"

"Easily," he says. "I'm not in love with you any more. I haven't been for at least six months. Sex with you has become more of a chore than anything."

I back up until I hit the wall. I feel like I've just been stabbed in the chest. Tears burn my eyes.

"Don't worry Mrs. Jennings," Crystal says. "I'll take good care of Arthur. Maybe if you had then you wouldn't be losing him to another woman."

My eyes fly open. Suddenly my sadness has turned to rage.

"YOU BITCH!"

I lunge for Crystal, but Arthur catches me before I can do any major damage.

"Stop it, Camille! Stop it before I call the police!"

"Let go of me!"

When he lets me loose, I slap him as hard as I can.

"This is gonna come back on you! Trust me, Arthur! Karma never forgets an address! You want me gone? Fine! I can't even look at you any longer, you goddamned pig!"

I run up the stairs and hurriedly toss underwear and clothes into one of my rolling suitcases. When it's stuffed, I zip it up and roll out of the bedroom. Arthur and Crystal are standing in the front door. She's finally stepped inside.

"Move!"

She steps aside. As I pass her, I turn and punch her in the mouth. She falls back into Arthur's arms, stunned and panting.

"Don't think you're gonna get away with stealing another woman's husband, you little skank whore! It will just be a matter of time before he does the same thing to you! Have a nice life!"

I spit at their feet and storm off to get my car out of the garage. I toss the suitcase inside, get in, start her up and pull away from the house. I drive about six blocks before I have to pull over, put my head on the steering wheel, and cry.

Deep wrenching sobs bubble from within my chest. I sob and sob until I literally cannot produce one more tear. I finally look up from my crying fit. I am shocked to see that the sun is beginning to set. How long have I been sitting here? Damn! I put the car in gear and start driving again. I have no clear destination. I just drive until I find myself at this little diner on the outskirts of town.

AIRSTREAM EXPRESS, OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT, the neon sign reads. I get out and head inside. There's not many people in the place, maybe a few truckers at the counter and a couple of families.

"Sit anywhere you like," a perky young waitress says.

"Thanks."

I slide into a booth in the back. The waitress comes over a few minutes later. I don't realize until I smell the food cooking that I'm starving. I order a bacon deluxe cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake. Art isn't here to criticize what I'm eating or tell me that if I eat one more fatty meal that the zipper is going to pop on my jeans or that my size fourteens make me look like somebody tried to shove too much beat into a burrito. Jerk!

My food comes pretty quickly. I start eating like I'm a condemned prisoner.

"Nobody's gonna take it away from you," says a male voice. I look up to see a handsome black man in a bus boy's uniform holding a plastic bin of dirty dishes. His skin is the color of cinnamon. His dark hair is cut close to his head. He has kind dark eyes and a gray and black goatee around his mouth.

"Sorry," I take a breath. "I didn't realize I was eating so fast."

"Take your time. We won't chase you out. Although if you don't pay, they might make you work with me."

I laugh softly.

"Ah, I got a smile."

"My first time today. Smiling, that is."

"Really? A pretty lady like you should always smile. It changes your whole face."

"Thank you."

"Take your time. Enjoy your dinner."

He goes back into the kitchen.

I do slow down and when I'm done eating, I sip my shake, trying to plan my next move. Where am I gonna go? I definitely can't go home, not after Art threw me out and moved his new girl into our home. I fiddle with my engagement and wedding rings before I finally pull them off and set them on the table. I wonder how much I could get for them if I sold them.

The man from before comes to take my empty dishes.

"How was everything?" he asks.

"Oh, everything was very good. It's one of the best burgers I ever had."

"I'll tell the cook you said so." As he's clearing my table, he accidentally brushes my rings onto the floor.

"Oh shoot! I'm so sorry, Ma'am." He picks them up and hands them to me.

"It's alright. I don't need them anymore."

He raises an eyebrow.

"You don't?"

I shake my head.

"Listen, I don't mean to get in your business, but are you alright? You look like you've been crying."

"You don't miss much, do you?"

"I'm pretty good at reading people."

"My husband decided after ten years of marriage and no children that he's done with me. He's leaving me for a younger woman."

"A younger woman? Is she allowed out after curfew?"

I giggle at his remark.

"She's...probably twenty-one, blond and hasn't got an ounce of fat on her."

He wrinkles his nose.

"Nobody wants a bone but a dog. I like a woman with some meat on her bones. A real man wants to hug something nice and soft."

"He always told me I was fat."

"Is he blind in one eye and can't see out of the other?"

I burst into laughter.

"You're funny!"

"Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying, there's nothing wrong with you. I think you're beautiful."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"My husband hasn't called me beautiful in years."

"Then he's an idiot. Any man that is in your company should consider himself privileged."

He picks up his tray.

"You take care of yourself. Remember, you're a beautiful woman. If you were mine, the only tears you'd ever cry would be ones of joy."

He winks at me and goes back into the kitchen.

I finish my shake. I should go. I've sat here long enough. The waitress brings me my check. When I open it I see it stamped, PAID.

"Wait a minute. There's a mistake. I didn't pay for this yet."

She smiles.

"Mr. Owens took care of your check."

"Mr. Owens?"

"He's the owner of this diner. Well, this is just one. He owns about, oh, seven restaurants now."

"Wait a minute, I didn't meet this man! Why should he pay for my food?"

"Yes you did, Ma'am."

"When?"

"He bussed your table."

My eyes get large.

"The bus boy? That's the owner? Are you pulling my leg?"

She smiles and shakes her head.

"He comes in at least once a month to help out, and it's his way of staying humble, as he puts it. He also comes in if we're short. He'll cook, wait tables, run the cash register, anything we need him to do."

"But why me?"

"Honey, something about you sparked his interest. It's about time. He hasn't even looked at another woman since his wife died."

"He's a widower?"

"Yeah, for almost two years."

"Ah, if you don't mind me asking, what kind of boss is he?"

"He's wonderful. He's kind and fair and he pays us pretty well, enough that we don't always need to rely on tips to pay the bills. He doesn't tolerate any nonsense, and I've seen him stand up to rude customers. Honestly, he's the best."

"I need to thank him. Can I go back into the kitchen?"

"He's actually on his way home. If you hurry, you can catch him."

"Thank you so much, for everything! I'll be back, I promise!"

I snatch up the check and my purse and hurry towards the front door. I look around the parking lot. I hear a car disarm and see the lights to a luxury car flash on and off.

"Mr. Owens?"

"Yes?"

"I...I wanted to say thank you for paying for my dinner. You didn't have to do that. Can I pay you back?"

I reach into my purse, but he stops me.

"No. Keep your money. I wanted to do it."

"Why? You don't know me."

"I think I know that you're a woman who was needlessly cast to the side by a man who didn't appreciate you."

"Please, I have to pay you back somehow. I always pay my debts."

"Well, if you feel that way, you could let me take you to dinner."

I chuckle.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

He shakes his head.

"Why leave the diamond in the coal when it's sparkling and waiting to be found?"

"I'm hardly a diamond, Mr. Owens." I cast my eyes down.

"It's Brian, and yes you are."

He takes his knuckle and gently tips my chin up.

"The eyes are the window to the soul. Shield yours from me lest you wish to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets."

"Are you a philosopher too?" I ask.

"Among other things."

"Besides a restaurant owner?"

He chuckles.

"I see Janet gave me away."

"I had no idea! I just..." I stammer.

"What? That I was just a nosey bus boy?"

"No! No, I thought you were very nice. You made me feel special."

"Because you are...ah..."

"Camille. Camille Jennings, for the time being, anyway. I'm sure Art is going to divorce me."

"Arthur Jennings is your husband?"

"Sadly, yes."

Brian exhales.

"He might be a savvy businessman, but he doesn't know a thing about being good to his wife. How could he let go of someone like you?"

"Brian, you don't know me. I could be a serial killer for all you know."

"You?" He chuckles. "Nah, I don't pick those vibes up from you at all. You seem like a very nice girl. Does he put you down a lot? Criticize you?"

"Yeah."

"You gave up a lot to be with him, right? Even your family?"

"Are you psychic?"

"Nah. I told you I'm good at reading people. Right now I'm reading that you aren't sure which way to turn. You need a place to sleep and someplace to go until you figure things out."

Tears well up in my eyes.

"Where did you come from?"

He smiles.

"Why don't you come and stay with me?"

"No! No, I couldn't impose. I..."

"Camille, relax. I'm not that type of man. There are still men out here that believe in being chivalrous towards a woman. I have plenty of room. You could stay in my guest house."

I blink.

"Guest house? Just how big is your home?"

"Oh, enough to employ a maid, a chauffeur, and a landscaper."

"You're rich, aren't you?"

"I prefer the term well off. Rich sounds so cliche. What can I say? Business has been great. Why don't you follow me?"

I sigh. Where else am I going to go? I could go to a hotel, but knowing Art, he's probably already working on cutting off my credit cards.

"Alright."

Brian gets into his car, an Audi 8 with a purring engine. The drive to his house takes about forty-five minutes. I am not at all surprised when we turn off the main road and ride down a private drive to a big beautiful house., bigger than ours. He parks in front and comes to me.

"I'll give you the grand tour in the morning," he says. "I'm sure you want to rest." He opens my door. I climb out and go to open my trunk. I start to pull out my suitcase, but he stops me.

"Uh uh. That's my job." He lifts the heavy case out, pulls the handle up and begins walking with it. I follow him down a stone path to the back of the property. The path is well illuminated by solar lights. The path winds around past a huge pool, so big that I can't see the end of it! When we reach the end of the path, we are in front of what looks like a little white cottage. Brian takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door.

"Here. Don't lose it." He places the key in my hand.

"I won't." He opens the door for me. I am a little hesitant because it's dark inside. What if he locks me inside and throws me to the floor and...

"Here, we need lights," he says, shaking me out of my imaginary attack scenario. A He flicks a switch on the wall.

"Brian, this is very nice!"

I see a small living room and a kitchen area. Beyond the kitchen is a small hallway. The walls are white. There isn't much furniture, a couch, a big recliner and a cocktail table. I walk down the hallway and to my left is the bedroom. On the other side of the hallway is the bathroom. Everything is spotless. The bedroom has a huge bed with a brass headboard, two nightstands and two lamps. Another chest of drawers sits along the wall opposite the bed.

"Make yourself at home," he says. "I'm afraid there's no food in the fridge or cabinets because it would spoil. I haven't used this place in a couple of years, but I still keep it up nonetheless. I can order you some groceries if you give me a list."

"Oh, I...don't know if I'll be here more than a day or so..."

"Camille," Brian touches my arm, "you're welcome to stay as long as you need. You can't figure things out in twenty four hours. Please, there's no rush for you to leave."

"How did I get so lucky to meet you?"

"Your husband made it possible."

I reach out and hug him.

"Thank you!"

He smells nice, like burned wood and soap. When I release him he says,

"Put my number into your cell phone. Call me if you need anything, and I do mean anything."

I take his number down. I call him so he can lock mine in as well.

"I hope you rest well, Camille."

"Thank you again. Good night."

He kisses his fingers and presses them to my cheek.

"Goodnight, pretty lady."

When he's gone, I sit on the bed. It's quite firm.

Dear God, who is this man? Why did you send him to me?

I lay across the bed and gaze at the shimmering pool water outside. I'll just lay here a minute, and then I'll get up and brush my teeth and put on my pajamas.

I am asleep in three minutes.

I am awakened by knocking. I sit up and look around. Where am I? I feel very disoriented. Did I get drunk? I look down at myself. I'm fully dressed. Okay, so I wasn't having sex. Then I remember the night before.

The knocking continues. It's the front door. I get up and go over to it.

"Who is it?"

"Mrs. Jennings, it's the housekeeper."

"Oh."'I open the door. An older white lady with short red hair, big black rimmed glasses, and dressed in a black and white maid's uniform is standing there. She has a handful of towels and a basket in her hands.

"Good morning," she greets me warmly. "I'm Desiree, but you can call me Desi. Mr. Owens said to give you these." She hands me the towels and basket. "When you're ready, he'd like you to join him for breakfast."

"Oh, I'm...where?"

"Right beside the pool, on the lanai." She points to where it is. "I hope you're hungry."

"Thank you, Desi."

She walks away. I set the basket down. Inside I find body wash, deodorant, toothpaste, lotion, hair care products, including a comb and brush and hair ties. How did he know about this stuff? Wait, the waitress did say that Brian was a widower.

I waste no time in taking a hot shower. The water comes out of the huge shower head hard and fast. It feels good beating on my skin. I wash myself twice before rinsing off and getting out to dry off. I keep my outfit simple, yet I hope nice enough for a poolside breakfast, white palazzo pants with an airy green peasant top and sandals. I pull my hair back into a bun and keep my makeup light.

I find the lanai easily. Desi is already there pouring coffee for Brian.

"Good morning," he greets me as he stands up. He looks handsome in his simple dark jeans and black button down shirt. He's wearing sunglasses, but I'm sure his eyes are twinkling behind them. He pulls out my chair. Art used to do that for me, in the early days of our marriage, before he became such an asshole.

"Good morning. Thank you."

"You look lovely," he says. "As radiant as the sun."

"Thank you." I feel myself blushing.

"Cream or sugar, Ms. Jennings?" Desi asks.

"Both, please."

She pours cream into my coffee and then opens the sugar bowl. I take a couple of spoonfuls.

"You must try one of these," Brian uncovers a plate of croissants. Oh my God in Heaven, where did you get this man from? I start to reach for one, but then I hesitate.