What did Mary have?
No siblings, one good friend, and a handful of freakish clients.
No wonder women like her owned a gaggle of cats. He hated that he stereotyped her, but couldn’t seem to prevent his head from going there.
They stepped outside the sliding doors of the main lobby while they waited for Trent’s arrival.
“You know, Glen . . . you should just ask her out.”
Hadn’t he already done that? Twice?
Not that Mary had shot him down. More like ignored his request. Twisted the invitation and made him question whether he’d actually uttered the words Let’s go out.
“She has my number,” he said as he placed his sunglasses over his eyes to avoid looking at his sister-in-law.
Monica released half a snort, half a laugh. “Testosterone truly rots the male brain,” she said.
“Is that your medical diagnosis?”
“That’s my female diagnosis. Mary is not the kind of woman to make the first move. I’m sure you can see that. Waiting for her to ask you out is an exercise in stupidity.”
He paused. “I think you just called me stupid.”
Monica nodded and pointed two fingers in the air toward him. “Brighter than you appear, flyboy.”
“She’s not interested.”
Monica did that snort thing again.
“She’d be smart not to be interested, but she is.”
“Wait, what? She’d be smart not—”
Monica rested one hand on her hip. “You’re a player, Glen. Admit it.”
“I am not.” He was so a player. Denying it was a knee-jerk reaction.
“When was the last long-term relationship you had?”
He thought about that for a good ten seconds. “Define long-term.”
“Exactly. I’m not sure if it’s by design, intention, or simple bad luck. But you haven’t been terribly unhappy since I’ve met you. Which means you’re either happy being a bachelor and a player or you’re happily holding out for the right girl.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I think you like playing the field.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I enjoyed the field at one time. I don’t think Mary knows there is a field out there. Yet she can spot someone on it a mile away. Hence her being smart to avoid seeing someone playing it.”
Glen tilted his sunglasses and made sure Monica looked directly at him. “So why are you suggesting I ask her out if you’re so sure I’m wrong for her?”
Monica had this snarky smile that snuck up on you when you weren’t watching. One that told him she knew a hell of a lot more than she let on.
“Because I like Mary. I think she’d find more joy in life if she were less guarded. Dating you could break open that free spirit and help her grasp life a little more than she’s allowing herself. If there is something I’ve learned about you in the past couple years, it’s that you enjoy living.”
Damn, Monica had nailed Mary in a couple of sentences.
“I can see what Mary would get out of our dating . . . what do you think I’ll gain?”
That snarky smile appeared in spades. “So much more.”
What the hell did that mean?
He was about to ask when a car pulled into the turnaround and out stepped his younger brother.
Sister-in-law bonding time was over.
Chapter Six
He’d left.
Mary had known he would. He lived on the East Coast for crying out loud . . . but he’d left without so much as a smile. Well, there was a cordial Thanks for putting me up comment, and a group of See you laters to those sharing in the joy of baby Leo, but nothing more than a nod in her direction.
Then he left.
She hated the disappointment inside her. Mary had always been one to guard herself against caring too deeply about a man. As Dakota was fond of saying, it was a wonder she’d ever slept with anyone. As she’d gotten older, she’d avoiding putting herself out there because staying emotionally detached was getting tougher to do.
Here she was, an hour after Glen had left the hospital, still picturing him walking away. And she hadn’t even dated the man.
They’d met at a Florida writer’s conference Mary had attended with Dakota. Glen was there with his brother Trent for an emergency medical response convention taking place in the same hotel. And since Fairchild Charters was pioneering personal aircraft to come to the aid of people affected by natural disasters, as CFO of Fairchild Charters, he needed to be present.
They’d had some serious eye chemistry from word one. But in less than twenty-four hours Glen had flown back to Connecticut and she was on her way home to California. They’d exchanged phone numbers . . . but her phone never rang.
Because of Dakota’s connection to the Fairchilds through Walt and Monica’s friendship, Mary had found herself face-to-face with Glen a half a dozen times over the last year. Each one her heart kicked a little harder, each time she was reminded that he wasn’t interested enough to initiate a real date, each encounter left her a little heartbroken.
She understood. He was as commitment-phobic as any wealthy bachelor should be. Mary remembered saying nearly those exact words to him within hours of meeting the man. Probably not one of her best decisions. Analyzing people and recognizing what motivated them to do the things they did—or in this case, not do the things they should—was her job. Keeping her analysis to herself was close to impossible.
Dakota had warned her for years to keep her mouth shut unless she was kissing someone.
Mary didn’t listen.
Her stomach started to rumble when the smell of food blew in from the hall. She’d been at the hospital for two solid days and needed a little solitude. Having been on her own most of her life, she could only take a large family for so long before she needed to be alone. It was something she and Dakota had in common.
Walt’s parents were talking about leaving and checking into a hotel so Walt could have some privacy at home, but Dakota’s parents had been at the hospital a few hours and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
“I have a block of rooms waiting at The Morrison,” Monica announced.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Dr. Eddy said. “Then we can all ride in together tomorrow.”
“How about giving me a call in the morning before rushing over. The orthopedic said he’d be by first thing in the morning to cast Dakota’s leg. I’m going to push to have her discharged,” Walt said.
“Why the hurry?” Elaine asked.
“She’ll heal faster at home.”
“Hospitals are full of germs,” Monica added.
Mary listened to the exchange at a distance. “I have clients in the morning,” she said as she stood, grabbing her purse. “If you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”
Dakota offered a tired smile.
“Does anyone need a ride?” Mary asked in slight encouragement for the others in the room to leave.
“We’re okay,” Walt’s parents chimed in together.
“All right then. Everyone has my number.” She leaned over and kissed Dakota’s cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Thanks, Mary.”
She drove with the windows down to push the hospital smell from her head. Instead of driving straight to her empty house, broken toilet, and a microwave dinner . . . she decided to make a detour to the beach. It was after six and most of the beach crowd had left hours before. Spring in Southern California offered beach weather on most days, but the time shift and the cooler nights kept people from lingering too long.
Mary kept a beach blanket and a simple chair in her trunk on standby for nights like this. Nights where she felt the melancholy setting in and when she analyzed her life way too closely. Watching the sun set and the tide pull in reminded her of how lucky she was. How rich she was for the friendships she had and the blessings she’d been given. She didn’t think she used the beach for meditation, but in a way she did.
She snu
ggled into a thick sweater, slung her purse over her shoulder, and stepped onto the warm sand. Once she was close enough to hear the waves but not right on top of the water, Mary spread out her blanket and set up her chair.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but with the sun low on the horizon the air had a perfect crispness to it. She closed her eyes and faced the breeze. The salt air cleansed the taste of the hospital from her palate.
Dakota had looked exhausted. Her normally snarky comments were mild at best as the day had trailed on.
Even Walt appeared worn out.
The grandparents, both sets, were on fire, competing to hold baby Leo and preach which family member he took after. Then there was Monica . . . the woman was a true friend. She spoke with the nurses on staff, talked with a supervisor about having a physical therapist make a half dozen home visits once Dakota was discharged. Her mind turned to Glen and she purposely shook her head and stared at the setting sun. The vibrant purple and pink that skirted along the blue sea helped her mind clear.
In her purse, her phone buzzed.
She dug it free without losing sight of the last moments of the sun. “Mary Kildare.”
“Most people just say hello.”
Mary let her eyes close and fought the smile that attempted to cross her lips.
“Most people don’t start a conversation with an insult.”
Glen, with a husky sound she’d become a little too fond of, chuckled.
“Hello, Mary.”
She followed his lead. “Hello, Glen.”
There was a slight delay in the line, which made their conversation stutter. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Somewhere over Texas.”
So he was on a plane. She assumed as much. Instead of asking why he was calling, she waited for him to speak.
He hesitated . . . or maybe it was the delay. “Do you have plans this Saturday?”
She gripped the phone a little too tight. “Why are you asking?”
“We both know why I’m asking.”
Mary paused and held her breath. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at four.”
The sun was already gone. “I don’t believe I said yes.”
He laughed. “I don’t believe you said no.”
Any other man, any other time, she’d tell him to ask . . . make him work a little harder to secure a date. “Fly safe.”
“See you Saturday.”
He was about to hang up.
“Wait . . . what should I wear?”
“I’d like to say those tiny shorts you wear to bed, but I think a simple dress will do.”
Mary covered her face in her hand. Her boy shorts . . . he’d seen her butt hanging out of her pajamas.
He hung up laughing. No good-bye, not a see you later . . . simply disconnected the call.
And Mary smiled.
The morning provided her with a wake-up call from Nina. Apparently the Golfs were going to do their best to ensure her sleep deprivation for the week. At least Nina called her cell phone.
“He is crazy.”
He being Jacob, and on that they could both agree. Though Mary wasn’t about to say it.
It took ten minutes to talk Nina down and another ten to set an appointment for later in the week. According to Nina, she’d left the house after Jacob had accused her of lying about where she’d been the other night. And according to Nina, she went to a girlfriend’s house who Jacob didn’t know well and stayed with her. Not that any of this was news . . . or that believable, from what Nina had told Mary in the past. But perhaps the woman was justifying her possible split of the relationship. Much as Mary attempted to help couples in turmoil work things out, sometimes some relationships were destined to fail. Unfortunately, her ratio of marriages that held out with counseling was about fifty percent. That only counted the splits she’d been told about. No telling if a couple called it quits years later once their counseling sessions had ended.
Truth was, by the time couples stepped into her office, a lot of damage and miscommunication had already taken place. Years of problems that took a lot of dusting under carpets weren’t easy. It was in part why Mary was so brutally honest with her dates. She couldn’t see sugarcoating anything from day one.
She didn’t always work with couples. In fact, only half of her clients were attempting to keep their relationships with their significant others intact. She had clients who struggled with depression and phobias. Those with abusive pasts, both as victims and perpetrators. But in truth, she didn’t often take on clients on the latter end of that scale. She was a counselor, not a doctor, and although she’d been trained to speak with just about anyone about anything . . . people with a past of hurting others fell into a criminal category and needed more help than she could offer. She cut them out as quickly as she could and offered a multitude of psychiatrists they could seek out to meet their needs.
Mary made it to her office, which was a rented space in a professional building that held a single sitting area, a comfortable chair for her, and a desk against a wall surrounded by glass.
Thirty minutes after she arrived to her office, her first client showed up. Four hours after that, she was locking the door.
A deli around the corner from her office was her go-to choice for a late lunch. They had a counter that wrapped around the kitchen and offered her a view of the cooks as they moved like squirrels scrambling to store food away for the winter.
She greeted the hostess by name and moved past the line of people waiting for booths. She set her notebook on the counter and tucked her purse under her feet. “Hey, Carla.” The waitress smiled as she passed.
“Hi, Mary. The usual?”
“Creature of habit.”
Carla waved and kept walking.
Mary opened her notebook and scribbled a few things about her first client. She wrote down her observations and her predictions. So far, the single mother of two was making classic post-divorce decisions that were less than healthy for her fragile state of mind. The woman was a man pleaser, a typical middle child who felt the need to make everything great for everyone, often neglecting her own needs in the process. Now, two years after her divorce, she was entering into a relationship identical to the one she’d just left. As much as Mary could see that each week when they spoke, telling the client that her new guy was just like the old one wasn’t seeping in. Mary spun things around this week, asking about her client’s past more than her current life and comparing the two. Her client left the office in a state of confusion.
The woman was thinking . . . and that was what Mary wanted.
“Is anyone sitting here?” a male voice asked to her right.
Mary glanced up with a smile and nudged her notebook away from the other dining space. “Looks like you are.”
The man wore a suit. Probably walked from one of the many professional buildings in the area. He lifted a menu and blew out a breath. “That’s a lot of choices,” he said.
He was obviously speaking to her.
She took him in from the corner of her eye. Handsome enough . . . a little younger than she preferred, but a nice smile and kind eyes. “I haven’t had a sandwich here I didn’t like.”
Carla set an iced tea by her place mat and joined the conversation. “You’ve only eaten one sandwich on the whole menu.”
Mary felt her cheeks warm. “And I liked it.”
The stranger next to her laughed. “And which sandwich is that?”
“The Reuben,” both Mary and Carla said at the same time.
He placed the menu down and offered a nod. “Then that’s what I’ll have.”
Carla waved her pen in the air.
Mary placed her focus back on her notes to find herself being pulled out of them once again.
“Is it always this busy in here?”
“Weekdays. The breakfast crowd on Saturday and Sunday keeps it open on the weekends.”
“It sounds like you come here a lot.”
The stranger had settled into his seat, twisting his body just enough for her to know that he wasn’t going to let her ignore him. So instead of being rude, she went ahead and put her pen down and closed her notebook.
“At least once a week. Are you new to the area?”
“I started my new job at Owen, Peters, and Masons last week.”
She recognized the name of the firm. Their offices sat behind the building she was in. “So you’re an attorney?”
He shook his head. “An accountant.”
She pushed her unruly hair over her shoulder.
“I know, boring, huh?”
“Numbers are important,” she told him.
“They do a lot of forensic accounting over there. Something I specialize in.”
“Congratulations on your new position then.”
He lifted up his glass of water and she followed his lead. “And to new friends.”
Mary went ahead and lowered her glass and extended her hand. “Mary Kildare.”
“Kent Duvall.” He held her hand a fraction too long.
Instead of it upsetting her, she looked a little closer and saw the lift in his eyes. The one that said he liked what he saw.
How had that happened? She hadn’t been so much as glanced toward in months, now she had a date with Glen before the week ran out and Mr. Duvall was giving her the eye.
Carla arrived with two Reubens, giving them both something to do other than talk.
“That is one thick sandwich.”
It took both hands to pick it up, and still pickled cabbage managed to drip onto her plate. “Enjoy.”
It was salty, fatty, and sinful, but oh so good. Mary enjoyed her first bite and watched Kent as he took his. He smiled as the flavors hit his tongue.
“That’s amazing,” he said once he swallowed.
Mary acknowledged with a hum and went in for bite number two.
Kent quizzed her on other places close by to catch lunch and asked where happy hour took place when the mood struck.
She offered lunch suggestions but explained that she didn’t do happy hour close by and he’d have to ask his office staff for that connection.
Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) Page 5
