by Amanda Uhl
“What a wimp. I hope you put him in his place!” Pause. “Grace, you told him where to go, didn’t you?”
“Sort of. I mean, I told him he was silly for not talking to me anyway.”
“Oh, that will make him feel really bad.” Grace could hear the sarcastic tone through the phone line. “You need to lose him. I can already tell he’s a dick.”
Grace laughed. Claire’s bluntness was her most endearing quality. “I’m going to wait to see how he responds to my email first.”
“Well, if you need any help telling him where to go, call me. Okay? I’m expert at that sort of thing.”
Claire had been engaged three times but had yet to go through with it. She always got cold feet before the big day. The first time it was three months before the wedding. The second time, she made it to two weeks before. Now, she was engaged again, but they kept changing the wedding date. First, it was planned for April because spring weddings were so beautiful. Later, it was June because they needed more time to plan their honeymoon, and the latest was October because they got a good deal on a cruise.
Grace had yet to meet Tom Walters, Claire’s fiancé. Theirs had been a whirlwind courtship, but from all accounts Tom had two things going for him: a good job and income. Lots of it. Grace wondered how long it would be before Claire drove him over the edge. Tom was a successful businessman, but to Grace—who knew her sister well—he seemed a little too stable for the flighty Claire.
“How are the wedding plans going?” she asked, almost fearfully. The wedding was a little over a month away. Based on prior engagements, this was when problems would develop.
“Great.” Claire surprised her. “Tom agreed we’ll spend our honeymoon cruising to the Greek islands. He bought our tickets.”
“Sounds nice.”
“There’s one tiny problem.”
Uh-oh. Here it is. Grace waited with bated breath. Claire had a way of dropping bombshells, which always started off as little problems.
“I can’t find the right shoes to go with my gown.”
“Oh, is that all?” Grace breathed a sigh of relief.
“What do you mean is that all? I must have searched every stinking department store in San Francisco, and I still haven’t found what I am looking for. This wedding is only a month away. What am I going to do if I can’t find the right pair? You saw the pics of Tom. I have to have the right heel, or he’ll tower over me. I want to look graceful when the minister says kiss the bride. Not like a kitten kissing a giraffe.”
“I’m sure it won’t look like that,” Grace said soothingly. Claire describing herself as a kitten was laughable. She was more like a lioness. Since Grace had never seen Tom in person, she didn’t know how their height compared. Although she could use her imagination, knowing Tom was six foot four and her sister was five foot nine.
“Well, you know what I mean. The details are important to me. Like Mom always told us, ‘It pays to look good.’ Speaking of Mom, if you talk to her, don’t tell her about the shoes, okay. Otherwise, she’ll be giving me all kinds of advice I’d rather not hear right now. Well, I’ve got to run. And you need to get to bed, poor girl. I’ll call you tomorrow. Nighty-nite. Love you. Bye.”
“Love you, too. Night, Claire.”
Grace groaned. Why did she have the sensation she was standing in quicksand and was slowly being pulled in over her head? She hauled herself off the couch and made for the kitchen to charge her cell phone. She was on her way to the bathroom to go through her nightly bedtime routine, when a ding from her computer indicated an incoming email. Brains. Grace hesitated. Should she ignore it until the morning? The man had stood her up. She refused to rush to read his message.
Still, five minutes later, she found herself at the computer holding her breath. In a flash, she clicked on the email.
12:22 a.m.
Dear Gigi—
Like I said, I’m sorry I didn’t meet you as promised, but I was there. I’m new to the online dating scene, so forgive me. I really would like another chance. Can we try again? How does Friday look for you? We can meet at the same place and time. What do you say?
Brains
What did she have to lose? It wasn’t like she had a lot of other options for a Friday night. She wrote back quickly and pressed the send button before she could change her mind.
12:38 a.m.
OK. It’s a deal. But if it doesn’t happen this time, that’s it for dates. I don’t like being stood up even in the virtual world.
G
Grace was proud of the firmness of her response. She had learned the hard way not to tolerate excuses from a man—especially from one she had yet to meet in person.
Chapter Four
Jenkins Doesn’t Bite
Thursday morning looked to be another sunny day, but Grace tried to temper her optimism. Every time she was too enthusiastic, she ended up disappointed. Better to be cautious. It seemed to her most bad events in life were surprises. So it followed if she imagined all the bad things that could happen, they wouldn’t happen because they wouldn’t be a surprise. A bit convoluted, but it helped to ease her anxiety.
By the time she had dressed, eaten a quick breakfast and headed out the door, Grace had a mental list of nearly thirty disasters waiting to happen, including hitting David Jenkins’s car in the drive or arriving on his doorstep with toilet paper sticking out of her pants. As she rang his doorbell and waited, Grace looked over her shoulder at her backside to be sure.
So far, so good.
His residence was one of those stately red brick homes with an under-stated charm on a well-maintained tree-lined street. The landscaping was meticulous, as was the entryway. No out of control daisies or peeling paint for David Jenkins. She pressed the doorbell again. Nothing. She pressed it a third time, annoyed.
On the first ring, a dog had barked furiously from somewhere inside the house. However, no dog was in sight when David Jenkins finally opened the door, so he must have put it in the basement or garage. She wondered if it was a dangerous dog like a pit bull or Doberman.
“Hello, Grace.”
Jenkins was dressed casually in a green polo shirt and dark blue jeans, which fit his broad shoulders and long legs to perfection. Grace stared, her mind a blank. Her earlier indignation vanished, while her heartbeat sounded a loud thump in her ear. Breathe, Grace. “Hello.”
He smiled. “C’mon in.”
He ushered her into his home and an open kitchen. Gleaming granite countertops in a subdued shade of green contrasted nicely with white cabinets. From the looks of it, someone liked to cook. There were lots of new chrome appliances and a matching stove and refrigerator, which she eyed enviously.
“Would you like something to drink? A glass of water or cup of coffee or tea?”
“A cup of coffee would be great. With cream and a little sugar.”
Grace glanced around the room curiously, as he pulled out a large mug from one of the cupboards and poured coffee into it from what appeared to be a freshly made pot. Everything was neat and orderly. He was either a clean freak or he had a housecleaning service that did a fabulous job. Or he didn’t spend a lot of time at home.
She cast around for something to say. “You have a beautiful home. Have you lived here long?”
“About three years. Before that, I lived in New York. I grew up in Cleveland. I have family here.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Follow me.”
She trailed him through a large, open great room with shining wood floors. Grace spied strange antique objects, a flash of an ornate, gold lamp and a beautiful white fireplace, before David led her into another large room, which was his office. This room contained a mission style, antique desk and a collection of unusual fountain pens, which hung on the wall in a glass case. A sleek, chocolate leather couch covered one end of the room and there was a giant, flat-screened TV and bar, with an assortment of liquor bottles and glasses, on the other. The walls were tan, which might have da
rkened the room except for the oversized window that looked out upon a fenced-in backyard, which contained a large deck and lots of shrubs and flowers. A bird feeder hung near the window. Grace noticed a cardinal pecking at his breakfast.
David motioned to a leather armchair, and Grace took a seat, sipped her coffee, which was excellent, and waited for him to speak. He sat behind his desk in a matching leather chair, put on a pair of black reading glasses, opened a manila folder and pulled out a few papers. Still he did not say anything, which put her on edge.
“You have a lovely view from here. It must be nice to watch the birds at the feeder.”
David nodded as he gazed at the papers in front of him, making a few notations in the margins.
“I own a bird.” Grace tapped her fingers on the rim of her mug. “An African Gray parrot. His name is Harvey.”
David nodded again as he perused his notes. His continued silence increased her nervousness. Were they going to get this meeting started or not?
“He was my sister’s, but she couldn’t take him when she moved to California, so I agreed to take him in. My sister is a wannabe actress, and Harvey has a flair for drama. He talks a lot and some of his language is colorful. Yesterday, he told me to go to hell. That was after I had cleaned his cage and fed him. Ungrateful bird.”
David glanced her way with a warm smile. “I’d like to meet Harvey sometime. I have a dog. His name is Oliver. Perhaps you heard him barking earlier?”
“Why yes, I did.”
“I put him in the basement so he wouldn’t bother you. He can be aggressive with strangers. But he’s loyal and friendly once you get to know him. Before you leave, I’ll introduce you, that way you won’t have to worry about him when you’re here.”
“All…all right.” She wound a finger through her hair and twirled. “What kind of dog is he?”
He paused a moment, frowning at her fingers in her hair. Grace found herself dropping her hand into her lap. His eyes met hers. “A mutt. I brought him home from the pound a few years ago. He looks like he might be part Husky, part Shepherd, but I can’t be sure.” He paused again, then leaned back in his chair and studied her thoughtfully, a Mona Lisa smile on his face.
“You can call me David. My dog doesn’t bite and neither do I. There’s nothing for you to be nervous about.”
How did he so easily read her emotions? She liked birds and cats, but was always a bit nervous around dogs the first time she met them. When she and her sister were young, a neighbor’s St. Bernard had gotten loose and come to visit. It had knocked her over, and she had developed a healthy caution and respect for dogs after that.
“Now here’s the deal.” David changed the subject. “I’m thinking we can spend this morning discussing my thoughts for the design. You can ask any questions, if you want me to elaborate, and I can give you a tour of the cottage tomorrow. How long will it take you to pull together your initial proposal?”
Grace took a few moments to consider the question. “At least a week. What kind of timeline are you looking at?”
“House Trendz magazine would like to feature my cottage in their December issue, which gives us a few months.” He dug an older copy of the magazine from the folder he had on his desk and handed it to her. A photo of Technoderm’s Kyle Willard stared from the cover. The caption was titled ‘Billionaire relaxes in style.’ The handsome blond CEO was dressed in a suit and sprawled on a couch in what looked to be a modern, loft-style New York City penthouse apartment. Willard was rumored to be one of the top ten wealthiest men in America. It was thrilling to think the man sitting across from her might appear in the December issue, and she would be the featured artist. She flipped through the magazine to gauge the style of the article. The photos were breathtaking. She pulled a notebook from her purse and did a quick sketch.
“I’ll have a proposal to you as fast as I can.” Maybe she could celebrate her new client tomorrow night with Brains.
David frowned suddenly, and Grace’s heart pounded. She needed this job. She’d better quit thinking about Brains and worry about the man in front of her.
Magically, David’s frown dissolved into a smile. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
They worked steadily for the next three hours. He outlined his ideas in a compelling way, and she found herself intrigued by his knowledge. He was bright. Grace had known it, but until now, she didn’t realize exactly to what degree. Working together, their thoughts seemed to build, one upon another, effortlessly. Finally, he checked his watch. “It’s past noon. Let’s take a break.”
Grace was surprised at how fast the time flew. Her head was buzzing with creative ideas.
“Are you hungry?”
Grace nodded. “I can run and get something and be back in an hour.”
“No need. I’ll make us lunch. How does an omelet sound?”
“Fine,” she said, hiding her surprise.
Grace marveled at the incongruity of the situation. Yesterday, she would have never dared to imagine the man who prevented her from getting the Gallant job would be making her an omelet a day later. He did not look like the sort of man who was comfortable in an apron or liked omelets. But he looked fine in an apron, and he also made a mean omelet.
He brought out a bottle of wine from the office bar and poured them each a glass, which Grace sipped as she watched him work.
“So tell me about yourself.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a knife and sliced peppers on a wood cutting board. “Where did you grow up?” He popped a piece of yellow pepper in his mouth.
“Parma, although my mother and stepdad now live in Strongsville.”
He finished chopping the pepper and started on an onion. “Do you have other siblings besides the sister who left you with the parrot?”
“Oh, no. It’s only Claire and I. How about yourself?”
He threw the vegetables into the pan and beat the eggs. “My sister Sophia and her husband, Brian, live a few streets over with their two children. And my mom and dad live in University Heights. They’re still in great health but getting older, which is why I moved back to Cleveland. As a single guy, it wasn’t hard to pick up and move.”
Why was he still single? Was he gay?
David coughed violently, choking on the piece of pepper he was chewing. He grabbed the glass of water he had sitting on the counter, nearly knocking it over in his haste, and took a swig. The movement was the first clumsy one Grace had seen him make since she had met him.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded, set the glass in the sink, and went back to cooking. He poured the eggs in the pan, standing back to let them cook, and handed her two sturdy white plates and some silverware. “Since I’m doing all the cooking, you get to set the table.”
“Of course,” she said, taking the plates.
While she set the table, he poured her a glass of water and refilled her wine glass. He gestured for her to sit, dished out their lunch, and took the seat opposite.
“Who taught you to cook?” She stabbed into the fragrant omelet with gusto, and took a generous bite.
“My Grandma Jenkins. Her specialty and my favorite breakfast growing up was chocolate chip waffles and banana pancakes.”
“Yum. Sounds like dessert for breakfast.” Grace laughed.
“Ah, but that would be my grandma’s banana crème pie. Nothing could ever top her pie.”
“You haven’t tried my grandma’s German chocolate cake. Funny it’s ‘German’ because my grandma was from England.”
“Did she make scones and serve tea with milk?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Grandma Jenkins was also from England.” He stared at her intently, and she found herself staring back a bit breathlessly. The kitchen, which had initially seemed large and sterile, felt cozy and intimate. Grace raised her hands to her heated cheeks. Must be the wine.
“Tell me more about your family. Any nieces or nephews?”
“Oh, no. Claire’s not married…yet. Sh
e’s engaged.”
He looked at her with interest. “You say that like you’re nervous she’s making a mistake?”
He was perceptive. “Oh, not at all. It’s…Claire’s so impulsive. It’s hard for her to follow through on anything. I remember when we were kids, she could never make a decision. She used to make me choose first, and in the end, she would do what I did. If I chose the red lollipop, she wanted it, too. Which was fine on the little things, but didn’t go over well when we were in high school and dating. The day after I broke up with my steady boyfriend, Claire went out with him. I was so upset at the time. Lucky for both of us that relationship didn’t last long.”
“How about now? Does she still follow your advice?’
Grace frowned. “I guess so. Although it seems like she’s been giving me the advice lately.”
“Like what?”
The conversation had taken a deeply personal turn. Grace wasn’t sure she should answer, but like a locomotive running at top speed, now she had started, it was difficult to stop. “She thinks I’m not assertive enough and easily intimidated.”
“And are you?” His eyes drew her in. What was happening to her?
“I don’t think so on the important things. But I do find myself giving in when I should be firm.”
“Ah.” He said, as if the single syllable explained everything.
She wondered what he meant, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he collected her dishes, brought them to the sink, and proceeded to wash them by hand rather than stick them in the dishwasher.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Oh, October 10, I guess. I mean if it happens. I do want it to happen. Claire needs a kind, stable man in her life. From what she tells me, Tom has a great job—he’s a stockbroker—but unlike all her previous fiancés, he doesn’t tolerate her shenanigans. I like that.”
She plucked the tea towel from the counter and dried the dishes he set in the drainer. “I wish I knew whether Claire would go through with it this time. Every time she calls me, I cringe, waiting for her to drop the bomb that will tell me she’s discovered a flaw, which will keep her from saying ‘I do.’”
