by Holly Jacobs
He stopped the car for a red traffic light.
"Where do they live?" she asked.
"Topeka. So it's not like I can pop over and take him out for a game. I had a family, but she left and there was nothing I could do."
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry." She reached across the car and took his hand.
"This wasn't the conversation I had in mind for tonight. It's especially not the conversation I thought we would have before we even got to the restaurant."
"Harry, maybe it's easier because we're not really out in public. We're just two people talking in a car. I'm pretty sure that we could both come up with some superficial discussion. But you just shared something with me, something close and personal that allowed me to know you a bit better. That's a much better conversation, no matter how you cut it."
"Thanks. It's kind of you to say."
"Listen, I know you planned on a fancy meal, but since the two-people-talking-in-a-car thing is working so well for us, I almost hate to go somewhere. There's a McDonald's up ahead. We could go through the drive-thru and stay in the car and keep talking."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
They both got their Big Macs, fries and shakes, then Harry parked the car in a dark corner of the parking lot.
"This is perfect." Samantha ate a fry. "I mean, I can't tell you the last time I ate dinner in total quiet. Four kids and quiet don't tend to go hand-in-hand."
"This isn't quite the dinner I'd envisioned taking you on, but you're right, it's nice."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Samantha asked softly, "So, have you had any contact with Lucas?"
"Yeah. We e-mail back and forth, and talk on the phone a few times a week. I made sure it was okay with Teresa," he hastened to add.
"I never thought you didn't." She couldn't imagine losing both Phillip and her kids.
"It's not the same, though. Phone calls and e-mail can't take the place of being there with him, taking part in the mundane things. In and of themselves, they don't seem like much, but when you lose them, they're everything."
"You're right, it's not the same. I've never been able to understand how Phillip could have been so willing to let weeks and months go by without seeing or calling the kids."
"It sounds like that's changing now."
"It is. We talked and he admitted he's been in therapy for the last six months. He's feeling better, and he's starting a new life with Lois. I'm glad for him. But more than that, I'm glad for the kids."
"Well, we've officially covered our exes. Now what?"
"Isn't it a beautiful autumn night? That's a normal first-date topic," Samantha teased.
Harry laughed, and she did, as well. That bubble of nervousness finally just popped and completely disappeared. This was Harry, and there was no pressure.
They talked about her kids, about Lucas, about the school. She made a small foray into politics, and though they didn't totally mesh, they debated their differences comfortably, neither trying to convert the other.
They talked themselves through the Big Macs and fries, and walked inside to the counter for sundaes for dessert
Samantha was pretty sure this had to be the best first date in the history of dates, if it was a first date.
Two hours later, when Harry saw her home, he walked her to the front door. "Thanks, Sami." He grinned as he used her old nickname.
"This was a wonderful night, Harry." She didn't ask if it was a date, because it didn't matter. She didn't need to define the night with Harry. It was what it was, and that was wonderful.
He leaned toward her.
Was he going to kiss her goodnight? She held her breath as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug. As they broke apart, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, then he glanced at his watch and said, "Thanks again, Sami. I've got to go."
Before she could respond, he'd turned around and headed down the porch stairs toward his car.
Well, that solved that. A kiss on the forehead was definitely not the way you ended a date. She'd just had dinner with an old friend.
And for some reason, Samantha was disappointed.
Chapter Five
"And he hasn't called me since. It's been a week and two days, not that I'm counting," Samantha reported to Michelle and Carly nine nights later at the general PTA meeting in the school cafeteria.
She pulled at the mock turtleneck, wishing she had worn something lighter. But this time of year in Erie, a day might start out cool and be in the seventies by lunch.
She hated to have this conversation with the other school parents milling about, but they had a table all to themselves and there were so many other conversations going on, no one seemed to be paying them the slightest bit of attention.
"I don't know what I did," she continued. "I thought it was a great evening. Obviously, I was wrong."
"Sam, it doesn't sound as if you did anything," Michelle assured her.
"I must have. I mean, who goes out with someone, but never calls them again?"
"Maybe Harry's not as over his past relationship as he thought," Carly suggested. "Men are not the most astute creatures ever."
"Or maybe he decided he was better off without getting involved with me, even if that involvement was just a friendship."
"Sam." There was a mixture of sympathy and censure in Michelle's tone. "If he didn't see what a catch you were, he's not worth fretting about."
"The least he could have done was tell me it didn't work for him. A simple, Hi, Sam. Sorry, things just didn't go as good for me as they went for you. I'll see you at the next PTA meeting. How hard is that?" She felt a spurt of anger. She didn't deserve to be ignored. "I'll confess, I'm not quite sure how to act when I see him. I mean, is there a book on how to greet someone you had dinner with once? Well, three times, if you count the Saturday pizza and Sunday meat loaf with the kids."
"Samantha." There was urgency in Carly's voice. "I don't think we have time to plan a greeting with you. Here he comes. Don't let him see he's confused you."
Part of Samantha wanted to slink away and avoid talking to Harry Remington. But another part, a thankfully stronger part, squared her shoulders and did her best to maintain a calm facade.
"Ladies," Harry said, at his most affable.
Michelle and Carly didn't offer him a verbal response, but rather two identical curt nods. Samantha nodded, as well, and said, "Mr. Remington. Have a great meeting." Then she turned back to her friends, ignoring the fact he was still standing behind her. "Now, about the Thanksgiving Pageant," she said loudly, probably too loudly.
"He's gone." Carly was glaring in what, Samantha assumed, was Harry's direction.
"Stop giving him the evil eye, Carly. People are going to notice. And I don't want my humiliation to be fodder for the Erie Elementary gossip circles."
Gossip was what some mothers at the school lived on. Who dumped who. Who dated who. Vying for best kids. My kid got an A. . . . My kid won a whatever. . . . Samantha had done her best to stay out of the gossip circles, both as a participant and as a topic.
"He's a sleaze," Carly hissed. "And I'm an expert at sleaze. I spent thirteen years married to my ex. Did I ever tell you what led to our divorce?"
Samantha knew this was Carly's attempt at distracting her, and she willing went along with it. "Well. . ."
"It was a couch."
"A couch led to your divorce?" Michelle asked.
Carly nodded. "I spent months shopping for a new couch to go in his office. I can't tell you how many stores I visited. After all that work, I finally found it, and when I went to the office to admire the complete redo, the couch didn't look the way I thought it would. I mean, I'd never envisioned it with him and his secretary naked on it."
"Oh, Carly." Samantha reached out and squeezed her friend's hand.
"Seriously, I'm okay now," Carly assured them. "It was just so cliché. But I'm over it. Well, I'm mainly over it. I even asked for the couch in our divorce settleme
nt."
"What are you going to do with it? Sell it?" Michelle asked.
"Burn it. I'm going to set a match to it. A sort of cleansing. Out with the old life, in with the new."
Michelle looked as if she wasn't quite sure whether to believe Carly or not. Samantha didn't have that problem. The glint in Carly's eyes told her, her new friend meant to do exactly what she said she was going to do. She didn't want to encourage her, but she totally understood the sentiment. She'd been hurt when Phillip left her. Sad and embarrassed that their marriage had failed. But there'd been nothing like the white-hot fury she saw burning in Carly's eyes.
They listened to the PTA executives read and approve the minutes from the last meeting. Then the treasurer reported on the budget, pitched the next fundraiser, and talked about upcoming events.
Despite her best intentions, Samantha kept finding herself looking at Harry sitting at the front table between Heidi and Mary Ann, the PTA treasurer.
He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes.
What if he'd been sick? He might not have felt up to a phone call. And truly, they'd been two school chums having dinner. He didn't really owe her a call. Maybe she'd owed him one? If she'd called the day after the dinner and thanked him. . . Yes, that's probably what she should have done. To call now would be awkward at best, so she wouldn't.
He'd been polite coming over to talk to her. Polite. That's what she was going to shoot for. She'd be another polite PTA mom, with no expectations or recriminations.
She made herself look away from Harry, and thought again about How to Be Happy Without Really Trying. To be optimistic was the first lesson, and she thought she'd made a lot of headway. To accept. Specifically, to accept her right to be happy, was the second.
Fine.
She'd accept that Harry had been a one-time dinner thing. Whenever she saw him next, she was going to behave like any other school parent.
She couldn't control the fact their dating hadn't worked out. She couldn't change it, and even if she could, she wouldn't try. She'd tried to hold on to Phillip, long after their relationship had failed, and that hadn't worked.
She was going to accept her right to be happy without a man. She'd managed the last year, she could continue to go it on her own as long as it took to find the right man.
Someone who would stick with her, no matter what.
And if she never found him, she'd stay single.
Samantha had learned that being alone was infinitely better than being with the wrong man.
HARRY REALIZED HE'D MADE a huge mistake.
He'd debated when he should call Samantha. He didn't know the protocol. He didn't want to move so fast that he made her feel smothered, but obviously he'd moved too slowly. He'd actually known after the third day, he'd moved too slowly.
Now what?
"And now that we've finished our PTA business, let me introduce tonight's speaker, Dr. Alison Addison. Her program's title is I Like You, Why Don't You Like Me? We'll be discussing cliques, bullying and childhood spats."
Harry forced himself to sit up straight and stare at some indistinct point on the wall, but what he really wanted to do was groan and lay his head down on the table.
He hazarded a glance at Samantha. Her two friends were shooting him eye-daggers, and Samantha was staring at some equally indistinct point on another wall of the cafeteria.
He'd sworn he'd never get involved with another mother. Now, he was adding an addendum, especially if she's a mother at his school. It didn't matter if it was dating or dinner, either way, he lost.
So, here he was again. Back in awkward-ville, all because he didn't listen to himself.
". . .bullies, and even fights," Dr. Addison was saying. "Children are social. They have trouble coping when one of their friends suddenly withdraws. . ."
The truth of the matter was, he'd been embarrassed by his confession at dinner. Yes, he'd loved Teresa and Lucas, and that relationship had failed. Those months right after she'd moved had been some of the hardest he'd ever gone through. It was even worse than when his parents had divorced.
He'd vowed then to never get involved with another mother, period. He'd missed out on having a real family twice. He wasn't going through it for a third time.
The only reason he'd even considered dinner with Samantha was that he was leaving town in a couple months. Two old friends who enjoyed each other's company, there was nothing wrong with that. And he knew, part of the reason he hadn't called was to prove he could not call her.
Well, he'd proven that.
"Sometimes there are underlying issues. Encouraging your child to talk to their friend. . ."
He'd talk to her and do his best to explain. He owed her that. He'd hurt her by not calling, he saw that tonight. And hurting Samantha had been the last thing he'd wanted to do.
Harry felt the urge to groan mounting to a previously unknown level.
How long could a PTA meeting possibly last?
"HOW MUCH LONGER?" Samantha whispered to Michelle.
"You're worse than Brandon," she whispered back, but obliged Samantha and checked her watch. "Ten minutes, if she finishes on schedule."
With the way Samantha's luck was running, the speaker was definitely going to go over. She'd probably talk for another half hour on rejection and abandonment.
Under normal circumstances, Samantha might have found the talk instructive, given her kids' situation, but because looking at the speaker meant looking in Harry's direction, she just wanted it over.
She wanted to go home, crawl in her bed and forget this particular PTA meeting ever happened.
"Thank you for inviting me this evening." The speaker sat down.
And perpetually perky Heidi popped up and said, "Thank you for such an interesting presentation, Doctor. I hope you stay and enjoy some refreshments with us. And I want to thank our eighth-grade parents. They won tonight's attendance award, so the eighth-grade class will have a jeans day on Friday. Thank you all for coming. Hope to see you again next month."
"I really should go," Samantha said. Tomorrow. She'd practice not avoiding him and being just another school mom tomorrow.
Carly shook her head. "No way. You'll get some refreshments, and if any single fathers pass our way, you're going to flirt."
"I don't flirt."
"Don't think of it as flirting," Carly said, draping an arm over Samantha's shoulder and leading her toward the line food and drinks. "Think of it as just making conversation. . .with style."
Michelle got in line behind them. "Carly, may I point out that you're as single as Samantha is, and I don't see you flirting with anyone here."
"We're all three in the same boat, remember? You're not flirting, either. And you're younger, so you should be flirting more."
"Ladies," Samantha said, feeling as if she were refereeing between two of her kids and seeing all hopes of fleeing evaporating. Fine. She'd stay and just hope Harry took her earlier bruskness as a hint to steer clear. "I don't think any of us is very flirty by nature. So, let's just grab a snack, then get out of here. I meant to tell you, there's no real reason to meet again on Friday, I really don't have much to do. Mrs. Tarbot has everything under control for the pageant. I'll go to a few rehearsals with the class and maybe help her with a couple of costumes."
"There may not be any Thanksgiving Pageant news to discuss, but I think we can all agree there's always kid stuff, or man stuff, or just life stuff," Carly said. "I'm beginning to rely on our meetings."
"Me, too," Michelle admitted. "That is if you don't mind. . ."
"No," Samantha quickly assured both of them. "Of course, I don't mind. I just wasn't sure if the two of you could spare the time every other week when the meetings aren't really necessary."
"Not necessary to the school activities, maybe, but definitely necessary to my mental health," Carly quipped.
"Great. It's a date," Samantha said, feeling relieved.
"A date?" came a distinctly male voice from
behind them.
All three women turned in unison.
Harry stood there, looking less than happy.
"A date?" he repeated as he stared at Samantha, obviously waiting for a reply.
So much for steering clear. And the expression on his face said he didn't get that she was just another school mom.
Samantha got as far as saying, "Harry," when Carly butted in, "Yes, a date. Samantha's a very desirable woman, and has men waiting for a chance to date her."
And before Samantha could tell Harry the truth, Carly pulled her back into the refreshment line.
"Sorry, Mr. Remington," Michelle murmured before she turned, as well.
Carly leaned across Samantha and whispered to Michelle, "What did you apologize to him for?"
Michelle also leaned in front of Samantha. "Because he looked a bit stricken."
"Serves him right," Carly said.
"Maybe I should go tell him—"
"Oh, no." Carly tightened her arm around Samantha's shoulders. "You let him stew on the knowledge that he's not the only man interested in you."
"We never established how deep his interest ran, and it obviously didn't run very deep," Samantha muttered.
"Then letting him think you're going out with someone else shouldn't be a problem."
"It's a lie," Michelle spoke quietly. "And lies are always a problem."
"Oh, no, she's one of those," Carly said to Samantha in mock horror.
"One of what?" Michelle eyed Carly suspiciously.
"An idealist. A young innocent who thinks the world is fair. If the world were, I'd have never found my husband and his secretary on my couch."
"I'm not as innocent as you think." Michelle wore an expression of someone far older than Samantha knew she was.
That's when Samantha rediscovered her voice. Using her best motherly tone, she said, "Okay, you two. Enough. Or no chocolate for either of you."
Both Carly and Michelle smiled.
"Oh, she's using her mean-mom voice." Carly didn't look the least bit intimidated.
"Is it working?" Samantha asked.
"Yeah." Michelle's grin said differently.
