Double Exposure: From a Gift of Love Read online

  The day they arrived, she placed her framed copy on her nightstand, then she stretched out on the bed on her back to make certain she could see his picture with her head on the pillow. Lifting her head, she peered at Diana, who was sitting at her feet. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she sighed. “He’s Matt Dillon and Richard Gere rolled into one – only better looking. He’s Tom Cruise and that guy Harrison whathisname-“

  “Ford,” Diana provided with typical attention to details.

  “Ford,” Corey agreed, picking uup the picture and holding it above her face. “I’m going to marry him someday. I just know I am.”

  Although Diana was a little older, and definitely wiser and more practical, she wasn’t immune to Corey’s contagious enthusiasm or the energy with which Corey always tackled life’s obstacles. “In that case,” Diana said, getting up and reaching for Corey’s phone, “we’d better make sure your future husband is home before we take the other copy to Mrs. Bradley. We can walk over there, it’s only two miles.”

  Mrs. Bradley didn’t merely like the photograph, she loved it. “What a talent you have!” she exclaimed, her arthritic hand trembling a little as she touched Spencer’s face in the picture. “I shall place this on my dresser. No,” she said, getting up, “I shall place it here in the living room where everyone can see it. Spencer,” she called out as he bounded down the staircase, heading for the front door. In answer to her summons, he strolled into the living room, wearing tennis whites and carrying a tennis racket – looking to Corey even more gorgeous than he had in a tuxedo.

  Obliviousto Corey’s hectic color, Mrs. Bradley gestured toward the girls. “You know Diana, and I’m sure you remember Corey from the party Saturday night?”

  If he had said no, Corey would have died of humiliation and disappointment right there – expired on Mrs. Bradley’s Persian carpet and had to be carried out and buried.

  Instead, he looked at Corey with a smile and then nodded. “Hi, ladies,” he said, making Corey feel as least twenty.

  “The girls have just brought me a very special gift.” She handed him the picture in its frame. “Remember when Corey asked us to think of a special moment while she took the picture? – look how it turned out!”

  He took the picture, and to Corey’s almost painful joy she saw his expression go from polite interest to one of surprised pleasure. “It’s a wonderful picture, Corey,” he said, turning the full force of his deep voice and magnetic gaze on her. “You’re very talented.” He returned the photograph to his grandmother, bent down, and brushed a quick kiss on her brow. “I have a tennis date at the club in thirty minutes,” he told her. To the girls, he said, “Can I give you a ride home? It’s on my way.”

  Riding beside Spencer Addison in his blue sports car with the convertible top down soared straight to the top of Corey’s “Major Events of a Lifetime” list, and during the next several years, she managed to create a great many more events of a similar nature. In fact, she developed a positive genius for inventing reasons to visit his grandmother, whenever Spencer was home from college for an occasional weekend. His grandmother inadvertently collaborated in Corey’s grand desing by sending Spencer over to the Forters’ to deliver things she’d baked or to pick up some recipes or patterns she wanted to try with Grandpa’s specially made crochet hook.

  As the weeks passed, Corey used her interest in photography as an additional excuse to see Spencer and capture more treasured shots of him. Under the ploy of wanting to perfect her ability with “action photography,” she went to Spencer’s polo matches, his tennis matches, and anywhere else she could possibly go where he was likely to be. As her collection of his pictures grew, she started a special scrapbook and kept it under her bed, and when that was filled, she started another, and then another. Her favorite shots of him, however, were always displayed around her bedroom, where she could see them.

  When her grandmother asked why most of the pictures in her room were of Spencer Addison, Corey dissembled with a long, involved, and mostly trumped-up explanation about Spencer’s unique photogenic qualities and how concentrating on a single “subject” in a variety of settings helped her to gauge her improvement as a photographer. For good measure, she threw in a lot of jargon about stop-action photography and the effect of aperture settings and shutter speeds on the final result. Her grandmother walked out of Corey’s bedroom looking a little dazed and thoroughly confused, and did not broach the subject again.

  The rest of the family undoubtedly suspected Corey’s true feelings, but they were all kind enough not to tease her about them. The object of her unflagging devotion seemed perfectly at ease around her, as if he had no idea that she lived for his visits, and he visited often, althogh mostly on errands for his grandmother. The reasons he came to the house didn’t matter to Corey; what mattered was that he was rarely in a hurry to leave.

  If she had advance notice of his arrival, she spent hours in her room frantically restyling her hair, changing her clothes, and trying to decide on a good topic for conversation when she had a chance to talk to him. But regardless of how she looked, or what topics she chose, Spencer unfailingly treated her with a gentle courtesy that evolved into a kind of brotherly affection by the time she was fifteen. He took to calling her “Duchess” and teasing her about being beautiful. He admired her latest photos and joked with her and tallked to her about college. Sometimes he even stayed for dinner.

  Corey’s mother said she thought he came over to the house and stayed for a while because he’d never had a real family, and so he enjoyed being with theirs. Corey’s father thought Spencer enjoyed talking with him about the oil business. Corey’s grandfather was equally certain that it was his garden and greenhouse that interested Spencer. Corey’s grandmother was adamantly of the opinion that he knew the value of healthy cooking and eating, which was her forte.

  Corey clung to the hope that he enjoyed seeing and talking to her, and Diana was young enough and loyal enough to completely agree with Corey.

  Four

  SOMEHOW, COREY MANAGED TO MAINTAIN THE FACADE OF wanting only a platonic friendship with him until she was sixteen. Until then she’d kept a tight rein on herself, partly because she was terrified of overwhelming him with her ardor and losing him completely, and partly because she hadn’t found a risk-free opportunity to show him that she was old enough and more than ready for a romantic relationship with him.

  Fate handed her that opportunity the week before Christmas. Spence had come over to the house to deliver an armload of Christmas gifts from his grandmother to each of the Fosters, but for Corey there was a special gift forh him to her. He stayed for dinner and then for two games of chess with her grandfather. Corey waited until afterward, when the family had gone upstairs, then she insisted he wait while she opened his gift to her. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she spread the tissue in the big box aside and lifted out a large beautifully bound book of photographs by five of the world’s leading photographers. “It’s beautiful, Spence!” she breathed, “Thank you so much! I’ll treassure it always.”

  She knew he was on his way to a Christmas party being given by some friends of his, but as she ushered him across the foyer in hre new high heels, long plaid skirt, white silk blouse, and wine –colored velvet blazer, she had never felt more confident and mature. Because she’d known he was coming that night, she’d put her hair up into a chignon, with tendrils at her ears, because the style made her look older, and because Diana and she agreed it made her blue eyes look bigger.

  “Merry Christmas, Corey,” he said in the foyer as he turned to leave. Corey acted on sheer impulse because if she’d thought about it, she’d never have had the nerve. The house was decorated for the Christmas season in pine boughs and holly – and hanging from the crystal chandelier above the foyer was a giant bunch of mistletoe tied with red and gold ribbon. “Spence,” she burst out, “don’t you know it’s bad luck not to honor the Christmas traditions of your friends when you’re in their home?”