by Anita Higman
Lane clapped her hands. “Bravo.”
Mason glanced at Lane and then turned back to Trudie. “Were you wanting to do something else with your life?”
Trudie felt an anxious need to lighten things up, especially since her sister was twitching all over, trying to get her attention. “Well, let me put it to you this way…it’s a tedious and tiresome story, which I keep hidden in a secret box in my closet.” She slathered a thick layer of butter on her bread and took a bite.
Mason picked up his glass of Perrier, paused with it in midair, and said, “Unfortunately, wording it that way only makes me more intrigued.”
Trudie smiled. “I’m sorry to say your curiosity is wasted effort. I’m as interesting as a brown paper bag.” She cringed. Even though her tone remained jovial, she felt like she was on the edge of social suicide. She was glad to see the waiter arriving with her sister’s watercress soup. Lane would be busy eating instead of trying to coach her from the other side of the table.
Mason grinned at Trudie. “Usually people who think of themselves as the most remarkable are usually the least and vice versa.”
Guess he wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. “There is some truth to that.”
He lifted his glass to her. “Thank you.”
“It’s just that I’d rather hear about your job.” Trudie looked at him. “I’m sure it’s more fascinating than peddling underwear.”
“I doubt it, but since it is your birthday, I’ll let you choose the topic of conversation…for now.” He took another piece of bread from the basket. “As a financial consultant, I try to help people do more with the money they have. Advise them on their portfolios. Plan for their retirements. But it’s not a glamorous job. And if it is a talent, it’s shared by a lot of other people.”
Now who sounded overly modest? Trudie looked into Mason’s eyes, which seemed to be probing hers. She decided to reply, “Well, if what you do as a financial advisor works, which I’m sure it does, then it’s sort of like turning water into wine. In fact, since that was a miracle performed by Jesus, I’d say you’re in very good company.”
Mason nodded and mouthed the word touché. “Well, people have recommended me to others.”
Lane looked back and forth between them both and raised an eyebrow. “Mason is being modest as always. He has more clients than he knows what to do with.” She winked. “Do you think you’ll be expanding?”
“I’m not sure if I want to.” Mason fingered the salt shaker. “I’d rather not feel any pressure to move my office to Houston. I like living and working in Humble.”
Trudie had to admit that Mason wasn’t at all what she’d expected from a blind date. Not even close. He appeared to be a gem found on a beach of ordinary pebbles.
At that moment a young woman walked up to their table, holding a bouquet of helium balloons, which was attached to a koala. “These are for a Ms. Abernathy.”
Lane had an inquisitive brow. “We’re both Ms. Abernathy, but since it’s my sister’s birthday, I think they must be for her.” She gestured to Trudie.
The young woman handed the presents to Trudie. “These are for you, then. I hope your day is filled with all your favorite things. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you. What a surprise.” Trudie gave the cute little marsupial a hug and glanced over at her sister. “Thanks, Lane.”
“I’m sorry. They’re not from me.” Lane’s pursed her lips. “I wish I’d thought of sending balloons. Mason? Did you send them?”
He handed the delivery woman a large tip and then turned back to Lane. “Guilty as charged.”
Lane lighted her finger just under her chin and gave her sister a smile. Trudie knew what the expression meant—that Lane had been right about Mason. And really, she had been so right. Trudie set the koala on the empty chair and gave his head a pat. “I think I’ll call him Van Gogh. Thank you, Mason. It was a nice thing to do.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Trudie tried not to stare at Mason. Who was he, anyway? Where had he been? Right here in Humble. But there had to be a flaw. Something huge. Maybe he really had an identity disorder, and he thought he was Da Vinci without the beard. Or he was a collector of Elvis paintings and still lived at home with his mamma. Or maybe he had a secret addiction to mac and cheese. Well, she had a secret addiction to mac and cheese, so maybe she’d better let that one pass.
Suddenly, the waiter whooshed over with a large tray of food. Amidst all the fidgeting at the table, Trudie gave Mason another subtle appraisal. Lane hadn’t exaggerated about him being a Superman look-alike, and if he was without some major shortcoming, he appeared to be ideal.
But why get my hopes up? Trudie was well aware of the fact that guys like Mason could date anyone of their choosing. Actually, it was impossible not to notice that several women in Gaston’s Bistro were giggling and gawking at Mason, probably checking him out for brightness levels in his plumage. As far as plumage, Mason was way off the charts. So, the chances of him asking her out on a real date—a plain woman of little education and no means—were slim. It would take a miracle. Now she sounded like a lowly character in a Jane Austen novel. But weren’t miracles meant for everyone? Even for the square people who were never whittled smooth enough to fit into society’s round hole? Admit it, Trudie, you’d like to go out with the man.
Mason and Lane dug into their plates of sautéed chicken, so Trudie did as well. Expect for the moans and raves over the cuisine, the conversation faded for a moment. When Lane started a new topic, Trudie just sat and listened for a while.
As her sister discussed business matters with Mason, Trudie saw something in Lane’s eyes she’d never seen before—something curious when she gazed at Mason. She’d known that Lane had gone out with Mason months earlier, but Lane had been the one to break off their budding relationship. Was her sister suddenly changing her mind about dating Mason? In fact, Lane seemed to light up in Mason’s presence, and her laughter was like effervescent soda bubbles.
Trudie looked away and then back at them both, thinking her imagination was merely working overtime. She rested her neck on the palm of her hand, trying to decipher the situation.
As the banter and bursts of laughter between Mason and Lane intensified, somewhere deep in Trudie’s heart, where dreams were secretly dreamed and hopes were secretly hoped, a little light flickered out.
Chapter Three
Mason sat in his office, working at his computer. He’d made no progress on the spreadsheet he’d been fine-tuning for one his clients. His thoughts had tumbled around in his brain without order, like rocks in a tumbler, because of a woman named Trudie Abernathy. What a name. It didn’t exactly inspire one to poetry, but that ivory face of hers and those piercing blue eyes—eyes that could bore through granite—well, they were an entirely different matter. And the woman didn’t miss a thing. She was ready to praise, and yet she weighed and measured him as well as made him hope he didn’t come up wanting!
He drummed his fingers on the desk, picked up a few macadamia nuts, and then popped them in his mouth. The buzz in his office startled him. The front door. Someone was in the reception area. He rose, wondering who could have dropped by. There were no morning appointments, so he hoped it wasn’t a solicitor. With the daily interruptions from the phone and the door, he really needed to hire a secretary. He just wasn’t excited about dealing with the interview process or the training. Before he’d made it out his office door, his friend Perry burst into the room along with his son, Zeek, who straggled in behind him.
“Hey, how ya doing, man?” Perry slapped Mason on the back. “We wanted to check in on you to make sure you were still breathing.”
“I’m fine, just a little swamped.” Mason shook his friend’s hand while Zeek, ten years old and a handful, came around to give him a hug. “Hey, Zeek.”
“Hi, Mr. Wimberley.”
“You may call me Mason if you want.”
Perry walked over to his son, smiling with
pride. “Well, his mother has been teaching him manners.”
Zeek rolled his eyes at his dad. “But manners are really for little girls.”
Mason always enjoyed watching their father-son interactions. Reminded him that he needed to call his dad and catch up. “Oh, I don’t know, Zeek. Manners are always good.”
“Oh, yeah?” Zeek opened the candy jar on Mason’s desk and stuck his hand inside. He wiggled his eyebrows as a look of expectancy lit his ebony face.
“Well, like right now, son, if you want some of that candy, maybe you’d better ask first.” Perry gestured toward Mason.
“Sorry.” Zeek groaned. “Mr. Wimberley, may I please have some candy?”
“Sure.” Mason gave Zeek’s shoulder a pat. “Well, and manners come in handy when you’re grown up, too. They’ll help you to impress women. And you won’t sit at home alone without any dates.”
Zeek scratched his head. “Is that what you do, Mr. Wimberley?”
Perry chuckled. “Hey now, son, I think you’re getting a little personal.”
“Yeah, but it’s a reasonable question, considering my assertion.” Mason leaned against his desk.
“What does that mean?” Zeek unwrapped several caramel candies and put them in his mouth all at once.
“It means you’re right.” Mason nodded, really thinking about it. “Maybe I need to go out and impress a woman with my manners.”
Zeek laughed. He seemed satisfied enough with Mason’s reply that he sat down in one of the chairs and promptly buried himself inside a car magazine.
“We should go. We’re headed over to my in-laws’ for some barbecue.” Perry grinned. “Guess they’re in the mood to grill things again, if you know what I mean.” He pointed to himself.
Mason chuckled.
Zeek ran toward the door, stopped, and then made a big production out of swallowing his mouthful of caramel candy. “Mind if I borrow your car mag for a few days?”
Perry crossed his arms. “Now, son, I don’t—”
“All the new magazines come this week, and I never know what to do with the old ones. So, please take all the magazines you want.” Mason motioned toward the coffee table in the reception area, wondering why he even subscribed to magazines.
“Really? Thanks.” Zeek ran to the coffee table and studied the pile.
Perry shook his head. “Don’t let him bamboozle you like that. He does that same thing to his poor grandmother. Ten minutes after he’s through the front door, he’s got her cooking enough food to open a café.”
Zeek stuffed a small pile of magazines under his arm. “Bye.” He raced out the front door.
Mason smiled. “He’s a nice kid. Feel fortunate to have a good family.”
“I do. Every day of my life.” Perry headed to the front door. Mason followed behind him.
Perry reached for the door handle and then looked back at him. “Hey, you’re looking kinda lonely, man. You want to come with us for some barbecue?”
“Thanks. Another time. I’d better just eat a quick lunch here.”
“Okay.” Perry waggled his finger. “But I’ve got one more thing to say.”
“Yeah?”
“You know, I’ve been to your church, and I’ve seen the way the women look at you. Kind of like they’re enjoying a big slice of my wife’s ambrosia pie. You know what I’m saying? So, why haven’t you gone out with any of them?”
Mason shrugged. “I have. But after awhile, they all start looking the same to me. Sounding the same. Dressing the same. You know.”
“I hear ya. Well, sort of. Maybe, just maybe, you’re being too picky.” Perry stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Naw, I take that back. I took my good ol’ sweet time in looking for just the right woman, and I’ve never regretted it. Maybe all you need to do is—”
“I met someone.” Mason wondered why he’d blurted out such a private thought. It hadn’t really been a date—the poor woman had been railroaded into it by her sister.
“Oh, really?” Perry’s eyes widened. “And so who is this lady we’re talking about? I have got an inquiring mind here.”
“Trudie Abernathy.” Mason fingered the light switch without turning it on or off, and then he realized how goofy he looked. “We had lunch today.”
Perry frowned. “But you dated her months ago. Wasn’t she the one who called it quits after three dates?”
“No. That was her sister, Lane.”
“So, what is that? You’re dating Lane’s sister?” Perry raised an eyebrow.
“No. I’m not dating her. Exactly.” Mason massaged his neck, almost wishing he hadn’t brought up the subject.
Perry jiggled his finger. “But you said you had lunch with her.”
“I did, but her sister was there.”
“Oh, wow.” Perry chuckled. “Now, let me get this straight. You went on a date with Lane’s sister, while Lane was there too? Boy, times are a-changin’ since I dated.”
Mason cocked his head. “Well, it didn’t seem all that complicated at the time, ol’ buddy.”
Perry slapped Mason on the back. “I’m just messing with you. I get it. It was a blind date with no pressure. Women are pretty clever at figuring out how to do things like that. They talk a lot about us, you know. Men in general.”
“Oh yeah? What are they saying?” Mason wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.
“Well, I found out all this stuff after I got married. Sheila says beyond faith…there’s the lodestone factor.” Perry nodded. “Makes all the difference.”
Mason thought back to his geology 101 class in college. “That’s a magnetic mineral. Right? I can tell your wife’s a geologist.”
Perry grinned. “She means something that attracts. The stuff you can’t fool yourself about. For me, it blasted my heart to smithereens. I’m telling you, first time I met Sheila, I felt like that transformer in our neighborhood when it blew during our last thunderstorm. Poom.” He thumped his fist over his heart. “Just like that. Right here.”
Mason laughed. “Well, they say attraction is a mystery.”
“Can’t manufacture it or manipulate it. You can only appreciate it when it hits. Oh yeah.” Perry arched his eyebrows. “Poom.”
“You’re a little bit unhinged. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, that’s why Sheila loves me so much.” Perry straightened his shoulders.
Zeek stuck his head in the door. “Dad? Are you coming, Dad?” He rolled his eyes. “Dad?”
Perry looked over his glasses at him. “You know, I really did hear you on the first ‘Dad.’” Perry turned to Mason. “Well, keep the lodestone in mind. And let me know when she arrives. Later.”
Mason wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a chance, just a chance, the woman he was talking about had already arrived. He saluted his friend and Zeek as they headed out in pursuit of barbecue. Mason walked back into his office, sat down, and rolled his chair back up to his desk. Perry had been pretty funny—the whole transformer, lodestone thing, and yet that was some of what he’d felt when Trudie fell into his arms. The sensation had been unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.
Maybe I should just call her. He’d been thinking about it on and off. He could just pick up the phone and see if she’d like to meet for coffee. No, that wasn’t good enough. He should take her out to a nice restaurant. Then again, she’d probably like to keep a first date uncomplicated. On the other hand, he didn’t really know Trudie well enough to know what she wanted. What to do? The more he thought about it, the more indecision he felt. Good grief, man, get ahold of yourself. Even though he hadn’t dated in several months, he certainly knew the routine by heart—what to say and how to say it. He pulled out the top drawer of his desk and looked at Trudie’s home number, the one Lane had scribbled on one of her business cards.
Mason picked up the phone, held it up as if it were a dead rodent, and then slammed it down. Why did he hesitate with Trudie? Was he intimidated by her? No. Was he scared she’d s
ay no? He’d faced no before, but it wasn’t usually at the very beginning. It was only after women found out more about his family. Found out about his family’s business, the promise he’d made, and what that would mean for his future—their future as a couple.
He picked up the phone again, but at the same moment he heard another buzz. The front door again. I have got to hire a secretary.
When Mason looked up, he saw a stranger standing in his office doorway—a young woman with astonishing beauty. So astonishing that he blinked to make sure the woman was real.
The stranger fingered the collar of her white dress and smiled at him.
“Hi.” Mason smiled back. The woman was no illusion, and as far as design, God had certainly outdone Himself. “May I help you?”
Chapter Four
Mason heard a shuffling noise behind the young woman and then saw his mother appear. He rose. “Mom, what a surprise. It’s nice to see you.”
“It’s always a happy day to see you too.” She put her palms together and smiled.
Mason came around the desk and gave her a hug.
When he eased away, his mother gestured toward the stranger. “Do you remember the lovely Lily Larson? She attended our church some months ago.”
Mason scratched his chin. “Yes, now that you mention it…I do.”
“It’s so good to meet you.” Lily reached out her hand to him. “Well… to see you again.”
“Same here.” He shook her hand. Lily’s fingers were soft but also a bit clammy, like latching onto the legs of a frog.
Lily reached around the other side of the doorway and pulled out a picnic basket.
His mom fluttered her hands. “I know you barely stop to eat, so Lily here has been kind enough to whip up a little picnic lunch.”
Mason crossed his arms. “But I’ve got—”
“Pish posh, now. I thought since it didn’t feel muggy today we could eat outside under that live oak out there.” His mother pointed toward the outdoors, her face suddenly brightening with a saintly glow. “’Twould be such a shame to miss something so lovely.”
