"Do you think so?" Lacey asked. "I'm having trouble deciding if I want to meet him."
"You definitely wouldn't be bored. I could tell you that for sure," Jennifer said. "Rafe Chancellor is the type of man who keeps a checklist of things he wants to do during his lifetime and checks them off as he accomplishes them, then moves on to the next challenge."
"But would the things he enjoys doing be the things I like to do?"
"He doesn't design high fashion, that's for sure," Jennifer said, laughing, "but he might inspire you to start up a western line."
"I've gathered that from some other sources."
"He's interested in just about everything. Odds are you'd find plenty of things you like doing which you never knew about before meeting him. He's the kind of man who catches you up in the spirit of things."
"I'm not sure I want to be caught," Lacey commented.
"I'm not sure he does either," Jennifer said. "He has a lot of responsibility with his daughter, and I get the impression he's not ready for the marriage frying pan again, if ever."
"Has he told you that?" Lacey asked.
"Not in so many words," Jennifer admitted. "I don't know him as well as I do his daughter. What little I have talked with him has just been on school-related topics, but that's the impression I get."
Lacey thought she had covered a lot of ground for such a limited topic. "What does he look like?"
"Average," Jennifer answered.
"Average what? Height? Hair? Eyes?"
"Yes, definitely average," Jennifer confirmed.
"How about his hair?"
"He has some," Jennifer answered.
Lacey laughed. "That's not telling me much."
"Well, it's kind of short, kind of brown, kind of average."
"Oh. I'll just have to see for myself, I guess."
"Best advice I could give you."
Lacey chewed her lower lip, trying to think of anything else she could ask. "You've been a big help, Jennifer. What do you think I should do? Should I go out with him?"
"Why not?" Jennifer answered. "Do you have anyone you're seriously dating right now? What was that guy's name who was with you at the New Year's party?"
"Dominick, the drip."
"Oh."
"No, I'm not dating anyone special. With my schedule, it's better to be uninvolved. Besides, Dominick was the kind of man who was jealous of the time I spent at work. He had no concept whatsoever of how much my business is a part of me."
"I can see why there would be trouble there," Jennifer sympathized. "Maybe you'll like Rafe Chancellor better. I get the impression he doesn't need a woman the way a lot of men do today. That's not to say he doesn't like women or enjoy being around them," Jennifer qualified, "it's only saying he wouldn't smother you."
Lacey considered Jennifer's comments and smiled. "No commitments."
"Something like that."
"That could be ideal."
"Or average," Jennifer said, and laughed. "Good luck, whatever you decide, and let me know what does or does not develop."
"I will," Lacey promised, and hung up.
She picked up Rafe's latest letter and read it again. Should she or shouldn't she phone the references he had listed? If she did decide to call, what would she ask?
Chapter Two
Lacey was disappointed that afternoon when she finally drove home from the boutique and didn't find any new flowers from Rafe on her doorstep. He was just as likely to put a giraffe in her backyard, she decided, opening the door and putting her purse and keys on the nearest countertop. What little she was learning about him told her to expect the unexpected.
She looked at the flowers sitting on the kitchen counter where she had last left them and tried to form an image of this mystery man. Cowboy boots, spurs, flowers, military rank and a daughter.
An hour after she had called a pizza parlor for her dinner delivery, she had her feet propped in the chair opposite the sofa as she set aside the last slice and picked up Rafe's return card again. She really should send it back. It was nothing more binding than a free mail-in certificate. She would be under no obligation to follow through once he received the card. All she would be agreeing to do was answer her phone if he called. If she didn't like what she heard, she could always hang up.
After she returned home from her design class she spent the remainder of the evening watching TV and wondering about Rafe Chancellor. What kind of man approached a woman for a date through the mail? Was he the type who was so desperate for a date he'd lay down good money for a computerized dating service? Was a blind date that different? Did he run personal ads in the newspaper? She could see it now:
Cowboy in search of cowgirl. Have saddle will travel. No experience required. No age limit. No one turned down.
Why, she wondered, was he so determined to go out with her? What had George told him? She had never had success with blind dates in the past. If her life hadn't been so devoid of men that day when she ran into George in the grocery store, she would never have given him whatever go-ahead she must have given him. There were times when she enjoyed a simple meal with a man in a restaurant. But she wasn't interested in anything more. What was this Rafe Chancellor expecting of her? What was he looking for in a woman?
She could picture him with a bristly unshaven face, like some early American gold prospector living in the wilds of North America. Maybe it had been so long since he'd seen a woman he couldn't remember what they looked like or what they were. Maybe he'd just heard stories of women and always wondered what use they could bring him in his gold-panning fever. And now that his scouting friend, George, had reminded him of women, he had decided to place his order for one, like flipping through the pages of a catalog.
Model #1: Five feet, five inches, blue eyes, brawny but not too brainy, able to chop wood and carry buckets of water a distance greater than one hundred feet. Comes equipped with changes of outfits, self-contained and able to amuse herself on long winter nights when prospectors are out hunting for hibernating bear. Also substitutes as bed-warmer when hot water bottle springs a leak.
Just what did this Rafe Chancellor think he was getting in her, sight unseen? Or had he seen her? Could he have come into the shop and checked her out when she was unaware of him?
Just who did he think he was to expect he was going to get her at all? She wouldn't return the card. It was too risky, in spite of all the favorable comments everyone had been giving her about him. He could have paid all those people to say good things about him, now that she thought of it. All of them were his agents for hire, designed to give nothing but good propaganda in his conquest of her.
He couldn't have known she would call Amy, Lacey reasoned, or Jennifer. That was a remote connection he couldn't have counted on, although Amy was the one who had suggested she call Jennifer. No, it was more likely that if he paid anyone to say good things about him, he would have paid the references he had listed in his note.
Lacey got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to rummage through her purse for Rafe's latest note. Why not call these people, just for fun, to see what kind of propaganda they would give her about him?
A. J. Tell was the first name on the list. Her heart pounded at the prospect of dialing this complete stranger to ask him about another complete stranger. What would she say? What would she tell him she wanted to know?
At least he hadn't given her an 800 number. That showed he didn't do this on such a regular basis that he had to cut down on phone costs. What the heck, she thought, clutching the phone receiver in her hand. All the references could do was tell her she'd gotten the wrong number and they'd never heard of a Rafe Chancellor, or else they could fill her in on anything she thought she wanted to hear.
The phone rang twice, three times, then four, and Lacey began to wonder if this was a business number reached only during the day. She was ready to hang up when, on the sixth ring, someone sleepily answered the phone.
Oh Lord, Lacey thought, glancing at t
he clock. She hadn't thought of time zones. What if she had dragged this poor person out of bed? But it was only nine o'clock here now. Ten shouldn't be too late for phone calls on the East Coast, and if this was a West Coast call, it'd be earlier.
"Hello," Lacey stammered. "May I speak to A. J. Tell?"
"You got him," the answer came, followed by an audible yawn.
"I'm sorry," Lacey apologized. "I hope I'm not calling too late and didn't wake you up."
"You did," he answered, "but it's no problem. Who is this?"
Lacey took a deep breath. She should have prepared some opening remarks or a speech before she attempted this phone call. Now that she had him on the phone, she wasn't certain what to say.
"I'm Lacey Adams," she replied. "You don't know me, but I think you do know Rafe Chancellor."
"Yeah. I know Rafe. How's he doing?"
"Fine," she responded automatically. "I mean, I guess he's fine. I really don't know. I've never met him. You see, that's why I'm calling."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone; then A.J. said, "I think I'm still asleep. I'm not following this conversation. Am I even having a conversation? Run that one past me again."
Lacey grimaced. This was turning out to be much more difficult than she had imagined it to be. It was a good thing she hadn't thought through to all of these possibilities before she picked up the phone, or she wouldn't have picked it up and dialed this mystery number in the first place.
"Let me try to explain," Lacey began. "You see, I got these flowers and a note from Rafe yesterday, and then another note from him today with your phone number."
"What for? Is this another one of his mastermind projects? Should I go get my checkbook?"
"I don't think so," Lacey answered. "But it could be one of his projects. That's what I guess I'm trying to figure out. He's trying to get a date with me, and he listed you as a reference."
Laughter boomed across the line.
Lacey frowned at the phone and held the receiver away from her. Was it that funny when Rafe Chancellor tried to get a date? She put the phone back to her ear and waited for the laughter to stop.
"Let me get this straight," A.J. finally sobered enough to say. "Rafe Chancellor has asked you for a date and given my name as a reference?"
"I know," she sympathized, "it sounds like you're a second in a duel, doesn't it? But you see, we've never met. Until a couple of days ago I didn't even know what a Rafe Chancellor was—and still don't. That's why I thought I'd call you, since he listed your name and number as being someone who could tell me something about him."
"Did he give you other people to call too?"
"Yes, he did," Lacey answered, picking up the letter with the names and numbers and reading out the others to him.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Served with them both in Nam."
"Oh, he warned me not to mention the Middle East with the second number. That, he said, would be a four-hour introduction to the problem."
He laughed again. "Sounds like Rafe. Damned if it doesn't."
Now we're on the right track, Lacey thought. "Well, do you know him, then, rather well?"
"As well as any man can know another, I guess," A.J. answered. "We flew Cobras together in Nam and still see each other. I guess he's one of my best friends."
Now we're getting somewhere, Lacey thought, even if it is in a biased sort of way. "What kind of a person is he?" she asked, not certain now how specific she wanted to get with her questions.
"The best," A.J. answered. "Earned every award for valor except the top one that a man can get. He has so many awards his chest isn't broad enough to accommodate them."
"Oh," Lacey replied, impressed.
"Was shot down a couple of times, and wounded twice."
"Oh," Lacey answered again, wondering if his wounds had anything to do with the reason why he hadn't approached her in person.
"The best," A.J. repeated.
"Oh," Lacey said again. She had been on the fringes of the Vietnam war when she was growing up, while Rafe had been in the heart of the conflicts, getting shot down and wounded. She didn't know enough about that era to ask the proper questions to draw A.J. out on the topic of Rafe's past. Besides, she was more interested in his present, and it didn't look as if A.J. was going to be able to help fill her in too thoroughly there.
"You've been a big help," Lacey said. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, but thanks for telling me about Rafe."
"You should call the next number on that list," he advised. "But you'll hear the same thing I've told you. Rafe's a good man. What I want to know is about you."
"What about me?"
"Who are you that Rafe wants to go out with you?"
"That's a good question," Lacey said, blushing suddenly as she wondered if she was worthy of this war hero. "I have no idea why he singled me out. I don't even know that we have anything in common."
"I wouldn't worry about that," A.J. said. "Rafe's interests are as varied as acts in a circus. I don't think there's anything he hasn't done, tried or planned to try."
"Thanks again for your insights," Lacey said again, ready to hang up.
"No, wait, tell me something about yourself," A.J. urged. "What do you do?"
"I design fashions," Lacey answered. "What do you do?"
"I'm an airline pilot," he answered. "Tell me something more about you so I can see what caught Rafe's attention."
"I don't know what caught his attention," Lacey answered, "since we've never met. The only thing I can figure out is it was boredom on his part. Otherwise, why go to all this trouble?"
"You don't know Rafe," A.J. said. "He's not the kind of man to judge—or who should be judged, for that matter—by appearances alone. There's a lot behind his facade, if he lets you in."
Lacey was beginning to see that. The plot was thickening faster than pea soup, and she wasn't certain she wanted to add to the recipe. "Well, good-bye."
"Wait," he shouted.
Lacey held the phone away from her ear and then put it back in place. "Yes?"
"Are you going out with him?"
Lacey felt more confused than ever. A war hero. How could she identify with such a revered person? What would they talk about? "I don't know. I'm still thinking about it."
"You won't regret it," A.J. said.
That's easy for you to say, Lacey thought after she had finally managed to hang up on A.J. Rafe Chancellor was as much a mystery man as he had been before she made the call. The basic question remained: Why should she follow through and go out with him? She'd give it some more thought and sleep on it tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to make any decisions.
The next day Lacey had just about decided that no matter how creative and inventive and romantic this Rafe Chancellor was in the eyes of all the girls in the shop whom she told the story to, she just wasn't going to send back his postcard. It was too much like following orders. She had worked long, hard hours to establish her independence on the business front and she had done that, not by following a pull-tab-A-and-insert-into-slot-B instructions, but by following her instincts and forging ahead on her own. If Rafe Chancellor wanted to go out with her badly enough, he could just meet her the way any ordinary male would—face to face.
She did admit to herself that that might be an obstacle for him. Outside of her buying trips like the one to Atlanta next week, Lacey was not the type to hang out in bars to meet new men. When she was in town she was up to her hemlines in work. She just didn't have time for men. And until Rafe Chancellor's flowers had turned up on her doorstep to remind her of the absence of a male in her life, she had been content with her manless existence, as long as she didn't give it too much thought.
She just didn't have time to spend on a man right now, she convinced herself as she drove home again for a quick lunch. If she should meet him later and he should ask why she hadn't responded to his flowers and letters, she would simply tell him they had gotten lost in the pile of her other correspondence. The flowers weren
't easy to overlook, but the two letters were.
The cassette tape that arrived in her mail that day wasn't as easy to ignore either. Lacey sat at the kitchen table with an apple and unwrapped the letter from the tape Rafe Chancellor had sent her. The letter was written on the back of a magazine-subscription reply envelope. She turned it over several times. Couldn't this man afford proper stationery?
She couldn't help smiling as she started to read.
Dear Lacey,
Have you noticed how friendly I have become? In case you have not found my references in order, I am forwarding the enclosed tape for your review. You will note that the tape has two sides. Side 1 is called "Musical Insight of Rafe" and Side 2 is called "Musical Insight of Rafe, Side 2."
The suggested manner to review this tape is first to brew a cup of either coffee or tea. I recommend that you use a coffee-chicory blend or else an economy blend of pekoe, orange pekoe and cut black tea in tagless tea bags.
Wow, Lacey thought. For being a new man in town he certainly picked up on details right away, tapping right into the local New Orleans-based favorites that were served here on the Gulf Coast. And tagless tea bags? What man ever cared about how tea should be served? She read on.
Remember, you want this to be an experience. While your special liquid refreshments are cooking, it would be advisable that you locate your cassette player and ensure that it is in proper working order. You now should have your cup, filled with whatever, and it is time to punch up the tape. While the tape is playing, you do have permission to get up and dance around the room if you feel the urge. (Continued on backside.)
Lacey turned the envelope over and upside down, smiling as she read the remainder of the message, which he had written around the printing on the magazine's envelope.
Male Order Bride Page 3
