In Search of Mr. Anonymous

By J B Glazer

One bet. One passionate weekend with a mysterious stranger. Endless heart break.

Cynical event planner Lucy doesn’t have time for love. She’s focused on her career and planning the hottest wedding in Chicago. A wedding she never thought her firm, Dreams DLC, would win. She was so confident, in fact, that she agreed to a rather unorthodox bet with her friend, Trish. If Dreams won the pitch, Lucy would have a one-night stand with the man of Trish’s choosing. Now it’s time to pay up.

Lucy doesn’t do one-night stands. Period. But she’s loyal to the core, so she can’t help but honor her commitment. Trish scouts out the perfect man who’s sure to bring Lucy out of her shell. He agrees to the deal, so Lucy makes a term of her own: no names, no personal details. Her handsome stranger agrees, and what was supposed to be one-night turns into a weekend of passion that tests Lucy’s boundaries. Lucy falls hard only to never hear from him again. She searches for answers, but it’s difficult to find someone who’s anonymous.

Lucy struggles with moving on until she meets James. James is her perfect match: kind, funny, patient, and giving. His only flaw is that he isn’t him―Mr. Anonymous. Lucy realizes she must stop chasing the ghosts of her past if she wants a future with James. But that’s the thing about ghosts. You never know when they’ll come back to haunt you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J B Glazer
• Release date: Apr 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370624003

J B Glazer

J B Glazer has always been an avid reader and loves nothing more than getting lost in a good book. A Chick Lit and Romance author, she believes in writing books about real characters and issues that women will relate to, dramatic happy endings, and that a daily dose of chocolate is one of life’s necessities. She’s also a wife, mom, marketer, referee, short-order cook, maid, shopaholic, and multitasker extraordinaire. She loves hearing from readers, so visit jbglazer.com to get in touch.

Book preview

Part I

Lost

Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.

—Euripides

Prologue

Istare at the heavy wooden doors before me, willing them to open. Their windows are covered with wrought iron bars, reminiscent of the prison I’m in. Fine, these bars have more of an ornamental look and the windows are some kind of fancy stained glass. So the jail analogy might be a bit extreme. If I wasn’t so claustrophobic I might even find them pretty. But it’s hard to see their beauty while I’m crammed among a throng of my classmates. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying my best to ignore the pack that surrounds me. I could kill my mom for dropping me off early. If you’re on time, you’re as good as late, she always tells me. What does that even mean? It makes no sense. I feel jostling behind me and as the doors open I’m pushed forward into a large, brightly lit tent. I can breathe again.

Lucy, let’s go! Amanda cries as she tugs my arm toward a woman carrying a tray filled with fizzy, pink drinks. We each grab one, and I give it a good stir with my straw before taking a tentative sip. It’s fruity, and the bubbles tickle my throat as it goes down. I decide it’s too sweet, but I’m grateful to have something to hold—a prop of sorts.

I follow Amanda across the white, polished floor, being careful not to trip over my own feet. We head toward the center of the tent, near the makeshift stage, and I’m surrounded by a bustle of activity. A man teeters on stilts while juggling. To my left is a child-sized merry-go-round adorned with three small ponies, their fiery manes a match to the red satin tablecloths. I’m not sure if it’s to ride on or for show. To my right are carnival-style games. My mouth waters as someone walks by holding a red and white striped box overflowing with buttered popcorn. The logo on the carton matches the large sign behind the stage, which spells out Happy Sweet 16 Taylor in lights. It’s all a bit over-the-top if you ask me. But Taylor is an only child and from what I hear her dad’s loaded, at least according to the rumor mill. In my experience it always carries an ounce of truth.

The DJ is setting up his equipment and, to my dismay, he chooses the moment I’m standing next to a speaker to do a sound check. I jump as he belts out, Testing. Testing 1-2-3.

Let’s go play some games, I suggest. Amanda agrees. We survey the options and decide to start with Taylor’s Gone Fishin’. Yeah, right. Like I can really see her doing anything that involves worms. I grab a fishing pole and drop its magnetic hook into a small pool of water. Unfortunately I come up empty-handed because the bottom of my fish is blank. Only fish that have a star on the bottom earn you a prize. I guess Taylor doesn’t share the philosophy that everyone’s a winner. Next we head over to the can toss, where I successfully knock down all three with my first pitch. I do a little victory dance and Amanda stares and me and giggles. Lucy, who knew you had it in you! I laugh too as I watch Amanda imitate my victory dance. The man running the game appears impatient with our antics and hands me a large, stuffed teddy bear before shouting, Next! I wonder what I’m supposed to do with it during the party. Maybe it can be my dancing partner. A wave of anxiety hits at the thought of having no one to dance with during the slow songs. At least I’ll have my bear for company.

We move on and I’m engrossed in trying to toss a ring around the neck of a bottle when Amanda claps her hands in delight. Look over there! Let’s get in line. I follow her gaze and my heart sinks. It’s a fortune teller station. Reluctantly I stand with her in line. I try to distract her by suggesting we go to the photo booth before it gets crowded. She’s intent on staying put. When it’s our turn I say, You go ahead. I don’t want to have my fortune read.

Why not? she demands.

You know I’m superstitious.

She protests, citing off reasons why I should do it. I look around for a distraction and see a way out. Isn’t that Jared over there?

Where? she asks, following my gaze. It’s him, she squeals. Do you think he noticed me? I think he looked over here. Yeah, he did. Should I go say hi? Or let him come to me?

Let him come to you. You need to play hard to get. This is coming from someone who is anything but an expert when it comes to dating strategy, or dating for that matter.

Yo, you’re up! someone calls out behind us.

Jared makes eye contact with Amanda and walks over. Lucy, take my turn, Amanda says as she smooths out her perfect blond strands. The next thing I know Jared puts his arm around Amanda and whisks her away, leaving me standing in front of the fortune teller. I take in her lined face, the gray curls protruding from her colorful head scarf, and the large hoops dangling from her ears. She just looks the part. She’s not a real fortune teller. She even has a name tag that says, Marci. What kind of name is that for someone who’s supposed to know the future? And she spells it with an I, like it was an attempt to make her name trendier. Doesn’t instill much confidence. Still, I’d love to make a fast getaway, but I don’t want to cause a scene. I’m the kind of girl who likes to blend in.

Marci looks at me with narrowed, brown eyes. I need something of value.

She has an accent. Of course she has an accent. It’s probably fake. I don’t have anything, I say as I unzip my purse.

No, no. Not money. Something meaningful to you, she says as she eyes my necklace.

Oh, I say as my fingers fumble with the silver chain around my neck. How did she know? I wear two, actually. One is a butterfly pendant and the other a best friends charm. Fortunately the pendant is tucked beneath my dress, hiding it from view. So she must be talking about the charm necklace.

Let me see it.

I hesitate. I never take off the necklace—either of them. Seconds pass and I feel beads of perspiration breaking out on my upper lip. Embarrassed, I put my finger to my lips as though deep in thought, and attempt to nonchalantly swipe the sweat away. Come on! a boy groans behind me.

She’ll be the last one, Marci says as she passes out a stack of business cards to those remaining in line.

The boy behind me groans again.

With shaking fingers, I sweep aside my jet black hair and undo the silver chain around my neck. Silently I hand it to her. She studies the St Ends broken heart locket and places it in her palm. She covers it with her other hand and closes her eyes. I close my eyes as well and try to drown out the scene before me. Instead, I focus on the locket, and Melanie.

Melanie Baxter is my best friend. I met her at overnight camp when I was just ten years old. Looking back I have no clue why my mom sent me because I never asked or expressed any interest. I think it was her attempt at getting me out of my shell. To this day I don’t know why Melanie befriended me. We are complete opposites in every way. She’s outgoing, boisterous, and loves being in the spotlight. Some might call me a wall flower. I prefer to think of myself as an observer. Let’s just say I didn’t expect us to be friends.

We were assigned to the same cabin, but she already knew some of the other girls. I kept to myself at first, until there was an act of what I like to think of as divine intervention on the fourth night. As an evening activity, our counselor, Joanna, asked us to write something nice about each of our cabin mates. She had a cup labeled with each camper’s name, and after we wrote our message we had to drop it in each one. I wondered what people would write about me, the shy girl who didn’t give much away. It wasn’t intentional. I wanted them to see the real me, but I didn’t know how to go about it. I told myself it was just a silly activity, but their opinions mattered to me. I watched as most of the girls scribbled a quick message and then went on to gossip with one another. I took my time. I wanted to think of the perfect thing to say. We then went off to our evening program and I wondered what would become of the messages. I worried they would be forgotten, but before bed Joanna read each one aloud. Many of the notes were superficial and said things like, so and so is really nice or she’s great at braiding or I love her clothes. Except mine. For Victoria I wrote, Her bursts of laughter are like catching glowing fireflies on a hot, summer night. And on Paige’s I wrote, Her smile is inviting, and when it’s directed at you it feels like you’re being wrapped up in a warm blanket. And on Tina’s I said, I wish I had an ounce of her bravery. Then Joanna read the one I wrote for Melanie. Melanie is like the sun. She shines her radiance on those around her. Always growing, you feel happy in her presence.

Glowing, I corrected Joanna before I could stop myself. It’s glowing, not growing. Melanie’s eyes met mine as I said it. She smiled at me and I smiled back. I noticed her listening intently to the rest of the messages, her eyes darting my way each time one of mine was read. Are you a poet? she asked me when we went to brush our teeth.

Me? No. I don’t write poetry, but I love reading it.

Oh. I liked what you had to say about everyone.

I gave her an embarrassed smile as I squeezed out a dab of toothpaste. She kept talking while she was brushing and I had a hard time understanding what she was saying. Toothpaste dribbled down her chin and I attempted to stifle a laugh. Instead of being embarrassed, she made funny faces and put a dab of toothpaste on her nose. I followed suit and pretty soon our faces were covered with dots of toothpaste.

Joanna walked in and said, What on earth?

But neither of us could answer. We were both crying tears of laughter.

You’ll be my bunk mate when we switch next week, Melanie informed me. I didn’t mind that it wasn’t a question.

The next morning she took a few extra minutes getting dressed before breakfast.

Mel, you coming? Paige called.

Go ahead. I’ll head over with Lucy.

I tried not to look surprised. She fell in step next to me and I noticed how her strides were in sync with mine. From that day forward it was like that between us. As close as sisters, we had an inseparable bond. At the end of camp I worked up the courage to ask why she chose me. Because you see people for who they are, she said. She thought a moment and added, And you see the good in everyone.

I didn’t know that to be true, but I was glad she thought so. Back home I’d never had a friend like her, and I was thrilled for our newfound friendship.

The only hitch is that she lives in Illinois and I’m from Virginia. But we make it work and try to see each other at least once or twice a year outside of camp. She surprised me on my thirteenth birthday with the locket. For the other part of me, she wrote on the card. She wears the other half: Be Fri. So when you put them together the message reads Best Friends. My locket has a picture of her, and hers a picture of me. I’m an only child, but once I met Melanie I not only gained a best friend, but a sister as well.

Marci puts one hand on mine, bringing me back to the present. In her other is the locket. I watch as she strokes her thumb over the engraved letters, her eyes closed in concentration. You are a perceptive girl, she says. Quiet but very loyal. You have many acquaintances but few true friends. You don’t like to let people in. I relax a little. What she’s saying is true, but it’s nothing about my future. Her observations are only about my present. You will change your mind about where to go for college. Uh, oh. I spoke too soon. You will have much success, she continues. A good career. But you must make decisions for yourself. You must stop basing them on what others want. She opens her eyes for a moment and a look of concern crosses her face. My heart begins to pound in my chest.

What? I say.

N-nothing. That’s it.

What else did you see? I demand.

The DJ announces it’s time to sing Happy Birthday and I know our time is done. She hands me back my locket then packs her things away. It’s not important.

Please, just tell me, I plead. She shakes her head and quickly finishes packing. She walks away, wheeling a small suitcase behind her. My classmates head toward the dance floor. Instead I follow Marci, all the way to the parking lot. She studies me as she closes her trunk. My pale blue-green eyes fill with tears, which I hastily wipe away with my sleeve. She takes both my hands and lets out a sigh.

You will lose something precious, she says. I snatch my hands away as though I’ve been burned.

No, no, no. This is why I didn’t want to have my fortune read. Some things are better off not knowing. But then it occurs to me she might be talking about my birth mom. I’m adopted. Is that what you mean?

I’m afraid I’m not talking about the past. But don’t worry, she tries to reassure me. It will come back to you in the most unexpected way.

What? What will come back to me?

All of a sudden Amanda reappears at my side. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Greg said he saw you head out this way. I try to interrupt but she keeps talking. So Jared officially asked me out. Can you believe it? And he won me this stuffed bear. Hey, it looks just like yours! The merry-go-round was just a display, by the way. We tried to go on it and got yelled at. Can you believe it? Why have it then?

Uh, huh. Just give me a sec. I need to find out more about something.

Panicked, I turn back to where Marci was standing, but she’s gone. Her car is gone too. I want to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Amanda sees my expression. What did she say? she prods.

Nothing important, I lie. I secure the locket around my neck and check three times to make sure the clasp is tightened.

Amanda peers at me and says, Don’t worry about what Marci said. She’s just someone they hired for the party. She’s probably like a math teacher, or something.

Yeah, like algebra or geometry, I agree. She links her arm through mine and we head back toward the party.

As I’m lying in bed that night I replay Marci’s premonition. I convince myself she can’t be a real fortune teller and likely teaches math or science, as Amanda suggested. Something logical. I need to forget about what she said. But try as I might, her words are etched into my brain. I already know what it feels like to lose something you never had. Yet I’m still terrified. Of what, I don’t know. But I have a strong feeling that someday I’ll find out. As the poet Jean de La Fontaine once said, A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. It would appear that my destiny is to lose.

Chapter 1

Idrum my fingers on my desk, once again glancing at the clock. At four o’clock sharp, my phone rings. I take a deep breath and answer on the second ring.

Lucy Chalmers.

"Lucy! Hi, it’s Mackenzie Shaw from Bride Today."

Hi, how are you?

"The question is, how are you? Tell me, how does it feel to land the most coveted wedding in Chicago?"

It feels surreal.

I’ll bet. Can you give me any details about the big day?

It will be a New Year’s Eve wedding. The venue is undetermined but you can bet it will be somewhere unique and that has meaning to the bride. She’s having her gown custom made by Monique Lhuillier. You can expect it to be ethereal, elegant, and timeless. Like the bride herself.

Speaking of, how has it been working with Veronica?

"She’s an excellent client. She has a vision but is open to ideas. She makes decisions when they need to be made and sticks to them. But what I admire most about her is that she involves Rob in every step of the process. It’s not just about her day. It’s about making their day special."

Does Rob want to be involved in the process?

I laugh. He does. For the most part he agrees with her choices, but he does have an opinion. I like a man with an opinion.

Do you? So, does the most eligible wedding planner have a significant other?

Not at the moment. I’m focused on my career.

Do you think you’ll continue on the wedding track? My sources tell me you specialize in corporate events.

Yes, I do. But Dreams DLC manages both corporate and bridal. So it’s not unusual for our event planners to cross over.

And how did Charlotte take the news? I understand Veronica specifically asked to work with you.

It was a team effort. I stepped in only because Charlotte was going to be on maternity leave during the heavy planning stages. Veronica asked that I be involved from a continuity standpoint. It’s a small white lie, but hopefully she’ll buy it. And how does she know so much about my company’s internal politics? I wouldn’t put it past Charlotte to be giving her inside information. But then again, it doesn’t paint her in the best light.

You’ve been with Dreams for three years now. What made you decide to leave Stanton?

Reading between the lines, she wants to know why I would leave one of the top event planning firms for a small mom and pop shop. Don reached out and at first I told him I wasn’t interested. Dreams wasn’t even on my radar. But he was persistent and told me I’d have a bigger opportunity here. He was right.

That’s partly true but I’m embarrassed to tell her the real reason. I thought it was fate because the moniker has the same initials as my family: Dennis, Lucy and Corrine. DLC actually stands for Don Campioni, the owner, and his wife Lucca. But I took it as a sign. I knew going to a smaller firm meant less support staff and a lower salary, but I liked that it was a family-owned business. Don has five daughters—too many initials to use in the logo, he joked when we first met—and they all hold various positions at the company. I’m an only child, and I always wished I had come from a big family. Don has his employees over for a homemade Italian feast once a month. He invited me to join them while I was debating his offer. I loved the way he and Lucca fussed over everyone as though they were family. And it didn’t hurt that Lucca’s meatballs were the best I’ve ever had. I often tease Don that’s what sealed the deal.

Mackenzie asks me to send her over some engagement photos of the happy couple. We chat for another ten minutes about Veronica and Rob’s choice of musicians, color scheme, and the who’s who of the guest list. Many of these details haven’t been decided yet, but I was well prepared for the interview and answer her questions just as I practiced.

One last question. I’d love a quote sharing the wisdom you’ve gained after years of planning these sorts of events. What’s the secret to a happy and lasting union?

OK. She threw me for a loop. That is one question I wasn’t anticipating. And based on my own personal track record, I’ll be damned if I know.

Hmm. That’s a great question. Let me think for a minute.

Take your time.

I haven’t planned that many weddings. Really just a handful that were in some way connected to me or my friends. There’s no way in hell Charlotte would have agreed otherwise. But I mentally flip through those couples and what seemed to stand out to me.

I would have to say the secret to a happy and lasting union is a couple who’s invested in their future. They realize that their wedding day is a celebration of their love. But it’s just that—a day. Their wedding is the foundation of the lifetime they are building from that day forward. A lifetime in which to build treasured moments and memories.

That’s great, thanks, Mackenzie says. She pauses and I hear the click of her keys as she finishes capturing my quote.

After we hang up I begin to second-guess what I said. That quote does nothing to shed what I do in a positive light. In fact, it downright trivializes the importance of a wedding. Why would I say it’s only one day? Don’s going to kill me. I want to take it back, but I can’t very well call Mackenzie and tell her I changed my mind. I’d look indecisive and unprofessional. I try to push away the thought. The issue isn’t going to print for another few weeks.

Instead I focus on choosing the perfect engagement photos for the issue. I email Mackenzie the pics I select and cross it off my to do list. I skim the day’s tasks to make sure there is nothing left outstanding. Of course, there isn’t. I answer my remaining unopened emails and make a few calls to confirm last-minute arrangements for an event I’m running next week. Satisfied that everything is in order, I open my planner to a new page, move the ribbon to mark my spot, then turn off my laptop.

It’s a quarter to six—I spent longer than I intended at the office. I decide it will be faster to freshen up here before heading home to drop off my car. I pull out the cosmetics bag I keep in my top drawer and head to the bathroom. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but I apply a fresh coat of mascara, add a light pink blush to give my ivory complexion some color, and run a brush through my dark, shoulder-length hair. When I return to my desk I kick off my ballet flats, which are a necessity for running around the office, and replace them with a pair of knee-length boots that are stashed under my desk. I tuck my butterfly pendant under my collar and add a silver statement necklace that’s more suitable for a night out. It’s dotted with blue beryl stones that make my eye color look more blue than green. I swear my eyes are always changing on me—it’s like they can’t decide what color they want to be. I keep an array of clothes, shoes, and jewelry in my office so I’m prepared for any occasion. My coworkers tease me about having a second wardrobe at the office, but guess who they go to when they’re in need of a last minute accessory.

I glance at my watch and it’s a few minutes to six. I do a quick calculation and figure I should be able to get home, drop off my car, and cab it to The Aviary, a cocktail lounge known for its innovative drinks, within the half hour. I grab my purse and text Trish I’ll meet her at six thirty. Not that I need to confirm; she knows I’m always punctual.

Trish is the florist I use for many of my company’s events and one of my closest friends. We’re meeting for a celebratory drink, just the two of us. The news about the Clayton-Ashford wedding victory hit last week. It’s been total mayhem ever since. Dreams threw a huge bash to celebrate and I’ve been running on adrenaline. I’d love nothing more than to spend the night in catching up on episodes of Top Chef. Not that I can cook, but I enjoy watching others do it and hope their talent will vicariously rub off on me. Trish wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that I live up to my end of our bargain—tonight. Trish and I made a rather unorthodox bet. If we won the Clayton-Ashford account, I’d have to agree to a one-night stand with the man of her choosing. And if we lost she’d have to stay celibate for a month. Her idea, not mine. I agreed only because the win was a long-shot. We were the underdogs, competing against three other top-notch firms in the city. Dreams DLC is a small, boutique event planning company. But Veronica Clayton loved my ideas. To be fair she planted the seeds, and I ran with it. This is a huge win for the company—and for me.

I’m still reeling from the news and adjusting to the mayhem that’s followed. I even got a congratulatory call from my old boss at Stanton even though we didn’t part on the best of terms. Stanton was a great place to jumpstart my career because I learned from some of the best in the industry. But I never would’ve had the opportunity to plan the wedding of a lifetime. If I had stayed there it’s likely I’d still be an assistant. I’m so glad I went with my gut and took the risk. That wasn’t always the case, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Like the time I decided to move to Chicago after college graduation without a job offer. It was a big step for me to leave everything behind and face an uncertain future. I didn’t have any family in the area and the only person I knew was Melanie. But Virginia didn’t offer the same kind of job market, so I took a risk. Lucky for me it paid out in spades. Sometimes I do miss home, but I love the culture here. Dreams has become my extended family.

So back to the bet. It probably doesn’t sound like a big deal. But I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t do relationships, period. I’ve tried, but I’ve never found anyone that I’ve clicked with. I’m thirty-three and single, and most days I feel like I’m one of the few single girls left in this city. That may sound crazy, but I’m surrounded by people falling in love. I’ve never been one of the lucky ones. I’m so glad Mackenzie didn’t ask me for a quote about true love. I wouldn’t have the faintest idea of what to say that didn’t sound like a cliché. As for sex, I haven’t slept with anyone in a long time. Trish gets on my case about letting loose and she seriously recites the health benefits of sex. I just don’t find it enjoyable being with a virtual stranger or someone I’m not interested in. And work doesn’t leave me with a lot of free time. I prefer it that way. Trish is the opposite, constantly looking for her next conquest. At least until she met Dax, her current boyfriend. And from what she tells me things are definitely not lacking in the bedroom. Hence, the stakes of our bet.

I don’t think I’m terribly picky. I may not have the most outgoing personality, but since graduating high school I’ve come out of my shell. I give Melanie a lot of the credit. She brings out the best in me. We kept in touch since that summer we went to camp together. On a whim, I decided to apply to Wash U because I knew it was her top choice. We both got in and were roommates since our freshman year. I moved to her hometown of Chicago once we graduated and rented a room from the condo her parents bought her up until a few months ago. I was getting a great deal on rent, but now that I’ve saved up it made more sense to live somewhere that had a ten minute commute instead of forty-five, thirty on a good day. My building is in the West Loop just blocks from Dreams. And while I love it, I do miss her company. Both Mel and I haven’t had the best