After you have allowed the words and the music to affect you, I hope that you will be able to reflect and agree that maybe you should mail back the specially prepared mail-back card without delay. Do not worry. I am checking my mailbox. I hope you do not feel that I have been too forward or pushy.
Do you like cavalry officers? I hope so!
Your newfound gentleman friend in southern Mississippi,
Rafe
Lacey set the letter down and picked up the tape. A musical insight. Did that mean he was singing on the tape? Maybe there was a verbal message enclosed. Hearing the sound of his voice could also give her a more vivid insight into his personality.
A tape recorder. Whom could she borrow one from? She thought of the girls in the boutique and couldn't remember any of them having one. Andrea, her best friend, and her husband had one, Lacey remembered, because Andrea had brought it to Lacey's Halloween party. And Andrea would probably also let her borrow it without asking questions.
"What do you want it for?" Andrea asked when Lacey stopped by her house after work to get the player.
"It's a long story," Lacey said, acting as if she had somewhere important she should have been two hours earlier.
"I'm not planning anything this evening," Andrea said, sitting on the couch with the tape player clutched in her lap. "Is it a party?"
"No, nothing like that," Lacey said, sinking into the chair closest to the door and resigning herself to filling her friend in on all the details of Rafe Chancellor.
"He sounds positively intriguing," Andrea said when she had heard all the details. "Why haven't you sent the card back by now?"
Lacey looked at her best friend and sighed. "I don't know. I guess I'm afraid."
"Of what?" Andrea asked, laughing. "From what everyone's told you, he sounds positively dreamy. I wouldn't think he's one of those crazies you read about in newspapers."
"That's not what I'm afraid of," Lacey admitted.
"What, then?"
Lacey sighed, then tried to put into words the feelings she hadn't allowed herself to admit the past few days. "He does sound too good to be true, especially since everyone's speaking so highly of him. You can judge a person by the company he keeps, and I happen to like the friends of his that I know too."
"What's the problem?"
"There has to be a catch. I mean, why approach me this way instead of directly, like any normal person?"
"He's obviously not your normal run-of-the-mill person. I think that's a plus in his favor."
"True. But—"
"Besides, how much chance do you give most men who approach you the direct route?"
Lacey shrugged. Andrea had been with her before when she had turned down strangers who tried to ask her out. "What if I send the card back, agree to meet him and get my hopes up and he turns out to be a nothing? John Alden, Miles Standish. Maybe he's even copying these letters from some kind of mail-order kit to hide his own personality. Some magazines sell the strangest things these days."
"You worry too much," Andrea said. "Why don't you just let loose for once and give the man a chance? I think it's all exciting. I would have mailed the card back long before now."
"I should have done that," Lacey agreed, "before I had a chance to think about it and get the input of others' ideas about him." She thought over what Andrea had just said. "Would you send in the card?"
Andrea nodded and handed Lacey the tape recorder. "Everyone risks disappointment when they first take the chance of meeting someone, even when they have some kind of prior knowledge of that person. You write it off to experience if it doesn't work, and you go on from there."
"Maybe," Lacey said, wavering. She sighed. "I guess I'm just plain scared of getting hurt again," she admitted to her best friend.
Andrea smiled and patted Lacey's hand. She had known Lacey back in college when Dominick had taken advantage of Lacey's naiveté. "That's probably a perfectly normal feeling. But I think you're putting more fear into this situation than it warrants. Send the blasted card back and let him call you. Then go out with him, just once, for the fun of it. Don't expect to build an entire relationship around a postcard. Just take the date he's offering, and if you enjoy what you find, go on from there, one day at a time."
Lacey smiled. "You always did have a sensible head on your shoulders. I should have come to you first, or just plain mailed the card back and not given it another thought. This way, I've thought about it too much, and as you said, totally taken it out of context."
"Right," Andrea said, laughing. "Just think how scared the poor man would be right now if he knew his novel approach with the flowers and letters and tape was causing you to have visions of ministers and bridesmaids."
Lacey laughed with her. "You're right. I'm too young for an early marriage. Not until I get my business where I want it to be first."
"With you, and the way you like challenges," Andrea warned, "that could be never."
Lacey picked up the tape recorder and stood. "I'll drive down to the post office tonight, as soon as I hear the tape."
Lacey drove home with Andrea's tape recorder balanced on the seat next to her. She couldn't wait to hear Rafe's taped message, but already could imagine it heavily laced with country music. She couldn't claim that as her style, but at the same time wasn't turned off by it as she was by punk rock.
When she got home she set the tape recorder aside, deciding she'd take a shower first and change into something more comfortable. Then she'd listen to it once she was relaxed. Whatever kind of music it was, she hoped it wouldn't put her to sleep.
Lacey played the tape through twice. It was a hodgepodge of disco, country and popular music in bits and pieces, some as short as a phrase, others almost the entire song. It started off with bits from the country song about love being a rose, so you'd better not pick it, since it only grows when it's on the vine, and you lose your love when you say the word "mine". Another song made the musical comment that he was always getting in trouble and leaving little girls who hate to see him go.
"Let's go dancing, baby," appeared throughout in the message, along with "I love the nightlife". Then there was a segment of Kermit the Frog speaking to another character about why he lives alone. "Stay away from women" was his motto, but since he couldn't, that's his trouble. Then came Johnny Cash with "I'm a hero—General Lee".
Side two spanned the gamut from only needing five-o'clock loving to Willie Nelson to "Travelin' Man" to "Let's Dance" to guitars in Texas and "Celebration".
Not bad, Lacey decided. She wondered how carefully he had selected each song to apply to Lacey. Or was this a standard tape he sent to all the women he decided to pursue? Whatever the answer, she felt compelled to tap her feet with the beat and caught herself singing along.
Okay, she thought, laying her hands flat on the table. It was time to send the return card. She got her purse and brought it back to the table, rummaging through until she found the original card and reread the message.
"If you decide to return the card, all you will have to do is write in your own handwriting, 'Give me a call sometime.' This will put Phase Two into action. At that point all you will have to do is answer the phone if you are home when I call, and be prepared at Phase Four to say 'yes' or 'no'."
"Phase Four," Lacey muttered, reading over the entire card again. "He skipped Phase Three. What can Phase Four mean? A date, a phone call, or more? Hmm." She frowned, trying to draft her reply. Besides not wanting to give him the satisfaction of responding to him like a puppy in obedience training, she wanted to give some clue to her personality.
Of course, he might not want to know anything about her. He might feel he had all the information he needed and a simple "Give me a call sometime" was all the go-ahead he needed for… whatever.
If he was going to give her a call sometime, it was going to be partially on her terms. And as short as a postcard was, she was going to do her best to give him some clues about herself. She picked up the card and carried it t
o her desk, slipped it into the carriage of her typewriter, and typed: "I feel it's only fair to warn you I have 2,001 ways to say no, depending on the question. However, in regard to your phone call and very exciting date, I'm looking forward to both." She pulled it out of the typewriter and signed her name with a flourish.
Lacey smiled at the reply card. This way she couldn't be boxed into any misunderstandings about that missing Phase Three. If he was talking about anything more intimate than a dinner date, she was letting him know up front her answer was "no times 2,001". Let him try for anything beyond the phone call mentioned in the letter, and she'd send him packing in no time.
Lacey picked up her car keys, purse and the card and went out to her car. She would take Andrea's advice and mail the card right away; it had cluttered her work space too long already. If she dropped the postcard down the slot tonight, he'd get it sometime tomorrow and give her a call sometime during the day or evening. She didn't have anything to do tomorrow night, so if he suggested a brief first meeting—say over coffee or dinner—she could oblige him. But only if he sounded half as good over the phone as he did in his letters.
At the post office Lacey parked her car in front of the door and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time. She walked across the hollow-sounding floor and let the postcard slide down the slot marked for local mail. Well, she sighed, looking after it, wondering when the postal employee would pick it up and carry it on its way, she had done her part. The next move would come from Rafe. All she had to do was sit home and wait. Since that was how she usually spent her evenings, it wouldn't be too bad.
Chapter Three
Lacey woke up the next morning with an eagerness that overrode her usual enthusiasm. Today or tonight some of the suspense would end.
She entered the boutique, seeing it with new eyes. As she walked through each room, pleased with the displays, she wondered what Rafe Chancellor would think of her shop. Would he be the type of man who could enjoy her success and be proud of her accomplishments? Or would he be the kind of man, like so many she had met in the past two years, who would feel threatened? If he were that type, he wouldn't get more than a first date out of her, and not a very pleasant one at that.
"The Bride-To-Be called this morning," Jane informed Lacey as she strolled through to the back room, where her manager's office was located.
Lacey smiled. Bride-To-Be was the nickname she had given her client who had asked her to design her wedding trousseau—at the groom's expense. He came from one of the oldest and wealthiest families on the Gulf Coast; Lacey was given carte blanche with the designs and expense.
"Am I supposed to call her back?" Lacey asked her manager.
"No, she'll be in Friday for the final fitting and said that would be soon enough to talk to you. I told her you'd have everything ready by then."
"Will I?" Lacey asked, looking at the three-piece suit she had sketched for the going-away outfit, which was tacked on a pegboard behind Jane's desk.
"You will," Jane confirmed, pouring a cup of coffee, which she handed to Lacey. "Late yesterday afternoon I talked with the seamstress and she said that everything but the lingerie is ready for your approval."
Lacey nodded, pleased with Jane's efficiency. She had always been able to second-guess Lacey. Lacey considered her a loyal friend as well as employee, and had made her manager after just one month's employment. The woman who was handling the trousseau was the main seamstress Lacey relied on for her original designs. When they were extremely busy she had three other seamstresses who helped out. All were housewives who needed part-time jobs.
"I'll drive out to her house this afternoon," Lacey told Jane, "and see how the trousseau is coming along." The seamstress, like everyone else Lacey relied on, understood exactly what Lacey wanted—placing ties and buttons and details exactly the way Lacey's notes and sketches intended.
"That shipment—the one we've been waiting for from New York—came in this morning," Jane told her, pouring a second cup of coffee for herself. "It's all in the back room. I haven't even wanted to think about unpacking it."
"Wait until your assistant comes in," Lacey suggested, setting aside her coffee cup and picking up some of the invoices on Jane's desk. "Then we'll all tackle it. Goes faster that way."
Jane nodded. "That's what I hoped you'd say, but I wasn't certain what your plans were for this morning."
"No plans," Lacey answered, and smiled. She picked up the coffee cup again and sat on the edge of the chair by Jane's desk. "With the Bride-To-Be's designs behind me, I'm caught up. The next few weeks should be nice. No deadlines, no schedules. I might be able to get some daydreaming in and work out some of the ideas I've had in the back of my head. I just haven't had any free time to do anything."
Jane stretched and yawned. "I guess the Atlanta trip is coming at the best time. I can't remember the last time you didn't have five jobs to juggle at once. I think what jammed everything up so much was the buying trip to New York that came right after the new line show, which happened right before the move. We could have handled each one separately without too much problem."
Absentmindedly Lacey nodded. Maybe that was another thing that had prompted her to mail the card to Rafe Chancellor. Life was going to be more relaxed in the coming weeks. That would allow her to fit a date or two into her schedule, provided he turned out to be a worthwhile companion.
The bells on the front door jangled, announcing the entrance of a customer. Jane looked at Lacey, who slipped off the chair and said, "I'll go."
The morning dragged for Lacey. Each time the phone rang, Lacey wanted to race to answer it. She held her breath on each call, waiting to see if it were for her. But when it was, it was business-related.
She left early for lunch, eager to see what Rafe had mailed her today, and was disappointed to find nothing in her mail from him. After lunch she drove over to see the seamstress and spent the remainder of the afternoon making minor alterations in preparation for the Bride-To-Be's viewing the next day. It was almost five when she took note of the time and phoned the boutique to check on business and to find out if there had been any urgent or intriguing calls for her. Rafe Chancellor obviously hadn't phoned. Lacey told Jane she was heading home, if anyone should want to reach her later by phone.
Lacey hurried into the shower as soon as she got home, and hurried out again, not wanting to miss the phone if Rafe decided to call her. He might just now be returning home from work to find her card. She found some cream cheese and pulled two bagels out of the freezer. That would hold her hunger down in case he offered dinner later this evening. And if he didn't, she'd be living up to the stunning and starving model image on the refrigerator door. Lacey popped the two bagels into a tin pie plate and shoved it into the oven, setting the temperature dial and the timer.
Now what could she do? It had to be something good so that when he asked "What are you doing tonight?" she could say, "Tonight? Oh, I'm working on a bronze of the Pieta," or, "Why, I was just sitting down at my spinning wheel to spin some wool from my sheep in the backyard." Anything but let him know the truth—she was watching the phone, waiting for it to ring.
Lacey paced into the living room, looking for an intellectual magazine or book to read. She could always casually mention she was reading the latest issue of National Geographic. The problem was, her taste this evening ran more to Seventeen. Besides, she didn't feel like reading anyway.
She could always polish the brass. That sounded sophisticated, but it wouldn't take long with the two candlesticks she owned. The same thing applied to her crystal.
The buzzer on the oven went off. Lacey jumped. Her initial response to any sound was to expect it to be the telephone. She went into the kitchen and took the bagels from the oven and brought them, with the cream cheese, to the table. Lacey chose a chair at the table that gave her a view of the phone. She tried to tell herself that a telephone, like a watched pot never boiling, wouldn't ring if she looked at it. But in this instance, after Rafe Chanc
ellor's persistence, she knew it was merely a matter of time before the phone rang.
She spread the cream cheese over the warm bagel and turned her back on the phone. She needed to rehearse what she would say when he called. She wanted to give him the proper first impression of who she was when he heard her voice. What first impression should she give him? Enthusiasm to let him know how excited she was to have a date after the past months of solid work?
Not too much enthusiasm, she decided, or he might get the idea she was unable to get dates on her own. Maybe she should act surprised, as if she had forgotten she had mailed back the card and wasn't expecting anyone to call tonight. Gracious-ness, in her best business voice, might produce the proper tone for a first meeting via Ma Bell. But she didn't want him to get the impression she was stuffy and all business, no play. True, she had acted that way lately, but only because there had not been any better alternatives for investing her time. And the business had demanded her full attention.
It had been hectic, but well worth it, she decided, taking a bite of the bagel. If Rafe Chancellor turned out to be as exciting in person as he seemed on paper, she might treat herself to a fling. Nothing serious, just a break from the fast pace of the boutique, especially now that the Bride-To-Be's designs were in the easy stage.
Lacey glanced over her shoulder at the clock. After six. Surely he was home from work by now, no matter what his job entailed. And he should have gotten his mail and read her reply by now. What if the postcard had gotten lost in the volume of thicker and more important pieces of mail traveling through the local post office? What if he didn't get the card for a week or longer? Was she just going to sit here eating bagels and cream cheese night after night, waiting for the phone to ring?
Probably, Lacey decided, taking another bite from the bagel. When it came right down to it, she didn't have anything better to do.
Male Order Bride Page 4
