by June Faver
* * *
That evening, after she had put Shannon to bed, Reggie sank into the recliner and put her feet up. It had been truly an unusual day.
Henry looked at her over the top of his glasses. “You seem to be very satisfied with yourself. Anything you need to tell your dear old dad?”
“Mmmmm,” she muttered.
He released a loud and dramatic sigh. “C’mon. You know you want to share.” He set his book on the side table, carefully spreading it open to the place he’d stopped reading.
“Okay, Dad…but please don’t judge me.”
“Agreed.”
“Franklin Bell fed me caviar, champagne, lobster, and asparagus tips in the park today.”
Henry dropped the footrest of the adjacent recliner and sat up straight. “He did what?”
A grin split her face. “As a matter of fact, he hand-fed me the caviar on these tiny white crackers, and it was divine.”
Henry frowned. “How could he—I mean, caviar? Here in Rambling?”
“I know. I expected barbecued ribs or something similar.”
“Seriously? Lobster?”
A bubble of laughter gurgled up Reggie’s throat. “I know. There must have been drones making deliveries. The champagne was perfectly chilled, and the lobster was freshly steamed.”
Henry shoved his glasses back up on his nose. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh, yes. Lemon butter. There was lemon butter for the lobster and asparagus.” She closed her eyes in remembrance and made an appreciative noise in her throat. “Heavenly.”
“And then what?” Henry’s voice dropped a whole octave. “Did he make advances?”
“And then he took me back to the Gazette and dropped me off.” She failed to mention the kisses. Kisses in the park. Kisses in the car. Kisses.
Henry pushed back in the recliner and reached for his book. “Not sure what to think of that young man…but I don’t hate him.”
* * *
Gayle glanced at the big clock on the wall. The afternoon had been dragging by. She thought she would go home, strip off her work clothes, and put on her shorts and a T-shirt. She had checked out a new book from the library and thought an evening curled up on the sofa would be the perfect way to wind down.
Tomorrow would be another day with new challenges, but this workday was crawling to an end.
She was surprised when the little bell at the customer desk dinged three times. Gayle pushed back from her desk, where she had been working on her obituary skills with a practice run about a local politician she particularly disliked. Take that! She made sure the porky politician had been caught dead in a compromising situation.
Gayle was pretty sure she was still wearing a smug expression when she reached the front desk, only to find Paul Harmon smiling at her.
“Oh! Hi, Paul.” She leaned on the counter, feeling comfortable that her workday was almost over. Just this one last customer. “What can I do for you? I hope you found Violet.”
His smile disappeared. “Um, no. I’m still looking for her.”
“Aw, sorry about that. Have you gone to the animal shelter?”
“Um, no… I guess I should do that.”
“Yes, of course. Poor Violet may be moldering away in a crate, wondering why you haven’t come to bail her out.”
“Oh, um…well, I’ll do that tomorrow.”
She smiled at him. “You do that, Paul. I hope you find her.”
He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “I was hoping you might be willing to have a cup of coffee with me… I mean, if you don’t have other plans.”
“Other plans?” Gayle felt a crushing sensation in her chest. On the one hand, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to sink into a tub of warm, fragrant bubbles…but on the other hand, Paul’s hopeful expression tugged at her heart. “Well, not exactly plans.”
His expression morphed from anticipation to despair. “Oh, I understand. I should have known that you would be busy…” He shrugged and turned toward the door. “Maybe some other time.”
“No, wait. I don’t have plans.” She expelled a sigh. “It’s just been a tough week, and I was aching to go home and relax.” To her dismay, tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry… I just…”
“No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Paul had returned to the counter and stood gazing at her.
She was surprised when his hand reached out to squeeze hers. It was just a quick bit of contact, but it caused a tingling sensation. They clasped each other for a moment and then both stepped back. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, I didn’t mean to impose.” He swallowed hard. “I—I guess I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
“Yes! I’ll see you on Sunday.” Oh, what the heck. “How about that coffee after church?”
A wide grin spread across his face. “How about lunch after church?”
“Oh—” She scrambled for words. “Yes. I would love to have lunch with you on Sunday…after church.”
They stood grinning at each other, but just then Milton Mayweather, the Gazette’s photographer, pushed out of the little swinging door that separated the office from those on the other side of the counter. Them and us.
Milton gave a jaunty wave as he strode to the front door. “See ya tomorrow, kid. I’m outta here.”
“Oh, yes. It’s quitting time. I guess I better go home.”
Paul gave a little salute of sorts. “I’ll let you go home and rest…and I’ll see you Sunday.” He backed toward the door, ran into it, and turned to escape.
Gayle stood for a moment, smiling and wondering what had happened. She seemed to have a lunch date with Paul Harmon on Sunday.
* * *
The next day everyone on the Gazette staff seemed to be rejoicing that it was Friday. There was a “let me outta here” vibe in the air.
Reggie’s phone rang, and she answered it, hoping it was not anything that would require serious brain cells because she, too, wanted to go home and relax.
“Mr. Bell on the line for you,” Gayle sang out.
Reggie could hear the smile in her voice. “Yes, put him through.”
“Hey,” he said, his deep voice wrapping around her like a caress.
“Hey,” she responded, a little breathlessly.
“Is Monday okay for you?”
A rush of unreasonable joy flooded her chest. Whatever it was he wanted to do on Monday was fine with her. “Monday is good.”
“I thought we could go to the city to check out the decorator marketplace. Anything you think will work in the house I can have set aside for us.”
Reggie’s heart fluttered against her ribs. “That sounds great.”
“Can you block out a couple of days?”
“Um…” She thought she might pass out right there. What was he asking her?
“I’ll book you a room at the Plaza. It’s a short ride to the Design Center.”
“Okay, I’ll just make arrangements with my dad.” She said goodbye and sat clutching the receiver in both hands. The dial tone interrupted her reverie, and she hung up, her hand shaking a bit. “Oh, my! What have I done?”
* * *
Gayle drove herself to church on Sunday, feeling a little antsy about having lunch with Paul Harmon. He seemed to be a really nice man, and everyone she knew seemed to hold him in high regard. It was obvious that he liked her, but she wasn’t sure she was interested in being liked.
At the moment, she was finally getting to take a step forward in her career. Okay, it had been a job up until the time when Reggie Lee Stafford had been elevated to the position of editor in chief of the Rambling Gazette…and when Reggie had allowed Gayle to take on some writing assignments. The obituaries had been a start, but now she wanted to cover real stories in the community. Mov
ing forward…
She found a parking spot and climbed out, clutching her purse, her Bible, and an envelope for the collection plate. She joined others headed for the church, exchanging greetings with those she met.
When she sprinted up the steps, she found Paul waiting for her by the door.
“Hi, Gayle. You look lovely today.” He was dressed in a dark suit with a tie, making him look different than in his usually casual gear.
“Oh, thanks, Paul. Um, you look nice too.”
A blush appeared on his face.
Nice. Not an egotistical man. She liked that. “You didn’t have to wait for me out here.”
He cleared his throat. “I was anxious to see you. Shall we go inside?” He gestured to the entry doors that were propped open.
She stepped forward, and he fell into step beside her. They found a place to sit, and she was pleased that he was greeted warmly by other churchgoers. It felt a little uncomfortable that they gave her a knowing smile as though acknowledging that she and Paul were a couple. She felt like shouting, ‘We’re just having lunch.’
After the service, Paul took her hand to lead her down the aisle.
No! Gayle pushed that thought out of her head. We are not walking down the aisle together…but they were.
The pastor was standing by the door, shaking hands with people as they departed. “Gayle.” A broad grin split his face. “And Paul.” His expression changed a bit, but he managed to salvage a smile as he gave Paul a hearty handshake.
They made their way down the steps, and Paul gestured toward the parking lot across the street. “If you would like to wait here, I’ll get my car, and we can go to lunch.”
“Um. Well, I brought my car, so why don’t I follow you?”
His face fell a bit, but he recovered quickly. “Uh, well, sure. That’s fine. Would you like to go to the Grey Moss Inn? I, uh, I made reservations.”
The Grey Moss Inn was the most expensive place in the county. Points to Paul. It made no sense for her to follow Paul all the way out there and then drive back to Rambling.
“I guess it would be better if we took the same vehicle.” She shrugged. “Will you follow me to my house and I can leave the car there?”
He looked relieved. “Sure. That’s great. Are you ready?” Paul walked her to her car and then went to get his own. In a matter of minutes, he was following her to her house.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Yes, he was still behind her…and he was grinning. That caused her to grin too, and she had no idea why.
Gayle had realized some time ago that Paul liked her…but he was definitely not her type. She wasn’t sure what her type was, but Paul wasn’t it. She was focused on her career as a journalist. Okay, that was stretching it a bit, but that was what she was hoping to become. She didn’t have time for a boyfriend, no matter how sweet he might be.
When she pulled into her driveway and climbed out of her car, Paul parked behind her. He jumped out to open the passenger-side door for her.
A gentleman. A sweet man and a gentleman.
She smiled and slid onto the leather seat.
“Buckle up, beautiful.” He closed her door and rounded the car to take a seat behind the wheel.
Gayle realized it had been some time since someone had thought she was beautiful…or cared whether she was buckled up. “Thanks.”
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said.
“I could eat.” She laughed. In fact, she was ravenous.
When they arrived at the Grey Moss Inn, they were seated in a cozy corner. Although it was bright daylight outside, the interior of the inn was dim and candlelit. Very romantic.
“This is really a lovely place, Paul.”
“Just wait until you taste the steak. The grill master is inspired.”
The waiter came and took their orders. Gayle chose a bacon-wrapped filet instead of the larger cut Paul recommended. “I’m not used to huge portions.”
“That must be how you stay so slim and trim.” He saluted her with his iced tea glass.
Oh, yes. He says all the right things to make a girl feel good…but…I’m not sure I want a boyfriend. Gayle adjusted the napkin in her lap and then raised her eyes to regard the man sitting across the small table from her. Not a bad man at all.
After their meal, they took a short walk around the grounds of the inn. It was quite beautifully landscaped and well kept. As they stepped outside, Paul took her hand, and it felt good.
“Paul, this has been a very nice day. Thank you for making such nice plans.”
“I’ve wanted to spend some time with you.” He shrugged. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“Me too.”
He tilted his head to one side, looking extremely pleased and boyish. “I don’t suppose you would consider giving me an encore next Sunday?”
Gayle sucked in a breath. This took her by surprise. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I suppose that would be a good thing… I mean, this has been such a nice…uh…” She was reluctant to call it a date, but now Paul looked confused.
She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, yes. I would be delighted to have lunch with you next Sunday.”
* * *
When Monday rolled around, Reggie was all ready. She wasn’t sure what to take, so she had packed for every possible scenario.
She had never been to the Design Center in Dallas, but she had read about it and was itching to prowl the multitude of upscale shops grouped together for the convenience of A-list designers to the Texas rich and famous. There were specialty stores vending literally everything from furniture for your penthouse to décor for your bunkhouse. A whole ’nother kind of life for Reggie, but not for Franklin Bell.
She was surprised her father was so complacent about her going out of town with a strange man, especially one with whom she had shared such a long-standing animosity. But her father had agreed without asking any questions. This in itself was remarkable. She wondered what he was thinking but didn’t want to jinx it.
Frank had said he would pick her up at the house mid-morning on Monday. Her father had gone to his store and had taken Shannon to Miss Jill’s on the way.
Now, Reggie was pacing. She kept glancing out the window, but when she saw Frank pull into the driveway, she was having grave misgivings. He jumped out and dashed up to the door, but she opened it before he had a chance to ring the bell.
He stepped inside, and for a moment, they grinned at each other without speaking. “Ready?” he asked and then looked around at her bags. “I don’t think you’re going to need all this.”
She felt her color rise. “I—I didn’t know what to pack.”
He pointed to the small bag she had packed her toiletries and essentials in and picked it up. “This will be enough.”
“What? But—”
“Relax,” he said with a grin. “I plan to treat you to something new.”
Reggie’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Come on. This is going to be fun.” He opened the front door and gestured for her to walk through.
“Um, okay.” She forced a confident smile and followed his direction.
“I put the top up so you don’t blow away.” He opened the passenger door for her and then stowed her bag in the trunk.
The sound of the lid closing made Reggie Lee start. Her stomach was doing flip-flops. I’m really doing this. She fumbled with her seat belt as Frank climbed in and started the motor.
Once on the road, he headed out of town. He took the interstate toward Austin.
Reggie’s heart sank. She had thought they were going to Dallas, to the big Design Center there.
Frank kept up a conversation, asking her opinion about various things. Nothing complicated, but enough to keep her entertained.
She was surprised when he turned off the highwa
y and drove to a small airstrip outside Austin. “Uh, what are we doing here?”
“We’re going to fly. You didn’t think we would drive, did you?”
It was only a few hours’ drive to Dallas. Half a day at the most. Reggie looked out the window at the small planes lined up in rows. “In one of those?” Her stomach did a flip-flop.
Frank snorted indelicately. “Of course not.” He pulled up in front of a hanger and got out. He opened her door and held out a hand.
Reggie put her hand in his uncertainly but let him draw her from the vehicle.
A man rushed out of the hanger and greeted him. “Hello, Mr. Bell. We’re all ready for you.” He gestured to a plane sitting on the tarmac. It wasn’t as small as the ones they had passed, but still…
“Good work, Earl.”
Reggie sucked in a breath and let it out all at once. This was going to be an experience. She wasn’t a seasoned traveler, only having flown a couple of times, and those trips had been in large commercial aircraft.
But Frank was chatting with the man and seemed to be taking things in his stride. Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected went about making sure their luggage had been taken aboard. “Ready?” he asked.
Her stomach tightened. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s my girl!”
Am I? Am I really your girl?
He assisted her up the steps, and the ever-helpful Earl folded the steps up behind them.
Once in the cabin, she experienced a smothering sensation. She tried taking long, slow breaths, which was good since she didn’t pass out.
“Now, where do you want to sit?” he asked.
“Wherever you’re sitting.” Somewhere where I can cling to you and hide my eyes on your shoulder.
“Really? Well, let’s get settled then.” He led the way to the cockpit and gestured her into the copilot’s seat.
The contents of her last meal rose up in her throat. “You—you’re driving?”
He chuckled. “Not exactly. I’m flying. Don’t worry. I have a perfectly good pilot’s license, and I promise to get you back here safe and sound.”
“Mmmmpf.” Cautiously, she edged into the seat, reconsidering her choice of seats. Did she really want to be sitting right up front with the wraparound window in her face?
