“Should I be?”
“Maybe. Although I might let you win. Wouldn’t want to do permanent damage to your male ego.” Grabbing the white hand towel she had thrown over the treadmill’s display, Gwendolyn patted the sweat from her face as the treadmill slowed for a one-minute cooldown. “I’ll get a racquet and meet you on the court.”
“Ad one!” Sebastian called before he delivered a robust serve. He had won five games to her four. The game in progress had ended up in a deuce, so they were playing for two advantage points to determine the winner. If he earned the last point, Sebastian would win the set.
Gwendolyn had positioned herself well, just in front of the baseline in the backcourt. Despite her teasing, she discovered early in the set that she needed to fight for every point. Sebastian had proven his talent for placing the ball where Gwendolyn would have to expend the most effort to return it. This time was no exception; the ball barely cleared the net, well into the service area.
She dashed for it. Her forehand stroke sent the ball higher than her intent. Taking advantage of her mistake, Sebastian charged the net and leapt high in the air, returning the ball with a forceful overhand smash, a power stroke too difficult to return.
“Good game.” She extended a congratulatory hand.
Sebastian grinned. “Thanks for letting me win.” His hand made contact with hers, causing that spark again.
With regret, she broke the grasp. “You’re welcome. Although I could have played a better game with my own racquet,” she protested teasingly.
“Excuses, excuses.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “You’ll have to bring your racquet next time.”
Next time. Why did that sound so good?
A few moments later, she and Sebastian approached the desk so she could exchange the borrowed racquet for her membership card. Gwendolyn was taken aback by a query from the woman at the desk. “You’re Gwendolyn Warner? The model?”
She nodded.
“I saw your ads for Lustre Lipstick.” She studied Gwendolyn but protested as she returned her card. “You don’t look like Gwendolyn Warner.”
“No one does.” Turning on her heel, Gwendolyn exited, an obviously amused Sebastian following beside her.
“Good retort. I think she was stunned.”
“I stole that line from Cary Grant.” She stopped in front of her car.
Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. “But I don’t get it. I thought you were a photographer.”
“I am. But I did some modeling awhile back.” She kept her voice curt to discourage inquiry. Her modeling days were over. She hurried over to her car.
“This is your car?” His voice betrayed his surprise.
Gwendolyn opened the door of the ancient Ford Aspire. “I aspire to something better, but this is all I can afford,” she quipped.
A chuckle was her reward. “Don’t tell me you plan to give Cary Grant credit for that line as well.”
“No. I made it up all by myself. Although I won’t promise someone else hasn’t thought of it, too.”
“You mean, such brilliance might be duplicated?” As she laughed, he changed the subject. “So when will you be back?”
“Tomorrow or the next day.”
“That soon?” He appraised her figure in a way that reminded her of a personal trainer. “You really don’t need all this exercise.”
“I want to stay healthy.”
“Yes, but I don’t think you will add a day to your life. The Lord is in control.”
“I agree.”
His mouth dropped open in apparent shock. “You do?”
“Yes.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Just because I used to be a model doesn’t mean I don’t read the Bible.”
“Then I owe you an apology. I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” He thought for a moment. “So tell me, how can a Christian woman pursue a career devoted to vanity?”
His unforeseen question left her with no quick response. Instead, she felt an unwelcome surge of anger. “It was nice playing tennis with you, Sebastian. See you another time.” Without looking back, she jumped behind the wheel of the car. Ignoring his protests and apologies, she sped out of the lot.
Sebastian’s question about reconciling her Christianity with her profession was provocative. Too provocative.
She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
Chapter 7
T he next Thursday, Sebastian knocked on Gwendolyn’s apartment door. Even though she had left the gym in a huff, she hadn’t called to cancel their plans to have dinner together.
“Coming!”
Good. So she hasn’t conveniently forgotten. His heart thumped at the melodious sound of her voice, muffled though it was through the door. An instant later, Gwendolyn appeared before him. Her hair was styled in loose curls that framed her creamy complexion and dark eyes. She had chosen a soft coral sweater and black dress pants with low heels. As always, she looked beautiful.
“Come on in.” She stepped to the side and eyed the dessert. “Can I take that?”
“Sure.” He hesitated. “About the other night—”
“I’m sorry,” they said in unison. At the realization, they chuckled.
“Look,” Gwendolyn said, “I shouldn’t have peeled out of the parking lot like that. I was being childish. You posed a perfectly reasonable question, one that I don’t have an answer for. I was too embarrassed to face the facts, so I ran away. Can you forgive me?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he responded only half-jokingly. “No one has all the answers. Least of all me. If I came across as challenging you, I’m sorry. As Mother told you, I have trouble relating to humans sometimes.”
The cordial look on her face was his reward.
Gwendolyn lifted the transparent green plastic container to eye level and examined the contents. “What is this?”
“Noodle pudding.”
“Oh, yes. I remember that recipe. I didn’t have the nerve to try it.”
“I tasted it,” he admitted, following her into the small kitchen just off the side of the common area. “I think it’s pretty good.”
Gwendolyn set his container on the kitchen counter, then pointed to a closed cake container. “I made Nanny’s sour cream cake.”
“Mmm. Now that sounds good. I don’t remember her posting that, though.”
“She didn’t. It’s from my own grandmother. I’ve called her Nanny ever since I was two years old.”
“Oh, a family heirloom.”
“The recipe is, anyway. I’m not so sure I’d want to eat a family heirloom,” she joked. “I think it turned out okay. It looks good, anyway.” Gwendolyn lifted the cover to reveal a perfectly formed Bundt cake.
“Looks good. No frosting, huh?”
“Doesn’t need any. Besides, that’s what makes it so portable. Not a lot of sticky icing to contend with.”
“True.” He rubbed his chin. “Looks like something DairyBaked Delights could package.”
Gwendolyn let out a musical laugh. “I could just see Nanny now, if she thought her cake might go national—”
“Maybe even international.”
Only an instant flew by before she gasped. “So that’s what your mom was about to tell me? You plan to go international?”
“That’s a long way off. We’ve just come out of a corporate reorganization and are just recovering from that. Plus, we haven’t even broken into the Midwest market in the U.S. yet. So don’t say anything.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Gwendolyn cut off a slice of cake and placed it on a blue and white dish. “Here,” she said, handing him the dessert. “Life is short. Eat dessert first.”
“But won’t we spoil dinner?” Despite his protest, he took the dessert and sat down at the small kitchen table.
“Maybe. But I can’t wait to try the noodle pudding.”
“And we can have more dessert after we get back from dinner, huh?” he ventured.
“Of course!” She took the seat beside his.
<
br /> He grinned. Gwendolyn’s love for life was making her more and more attractive to him. He took a bite of cake. “Say, this is good!”
“Thanks. And so is your noodle pudding. So, have I made up for the toothpaste pie?”
“And then some! Oh, I almost forgot,” Sebastian said. “Bernie got into an altercation with one of Hal’s cats and got a scratch on his face. The vet said he’ll need at least a week, maybe a little longer, to heal well enough to appear in a photo.”
“Another week? But—”
“I know. We’ll miss Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t suppose we could shoot it without him.”
“Not a chance.”
“So what will we do?”
He shrugged. “We’ll just catch the latest trend. We’ll run an old Thanksgiving ad and call it a classic.”
“I’m sure people will enjoy that.” Gwendolyn seemed to be trying to hide her disappointment.
“But I don’t like that idea as well as running something fresh.” Sebastian let out a resigned sigh. “Maybe everything’s turned out for the best. Since the new photos will be geared to spring, we won’t have to worry about plastic snow.”
“After what happened last time, I’m not sure I ever want to work with plastic snow again, anyway.”
“Maybe the beach.”
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
Sebastian cringed at the designation. Could it be possible that she couldn’t see his real feelings for her?
Gwendolyn expected him to escort her to his car but, instead, he offered his arm so they could walk to the restaurant. She remembered the only steak restaurant within walking distance. “You must be taking me to the John Paul Jones.”
He nodded. “Ever tried it?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Why would I be kidding?”
She avoided his gaze. “The truth is, I can’t afford it.”
“Perhaps DairyBaked Delights will change that.”
Gwendolyn smiled to herself. At least he’s finally decided he likes me—as a photographer, anyway.
They chatted as they waited for dinner to be served. Gwendolyn was pleased to discover it was easy to talk to Sebastian. Even more importantly, they agreed on the things that mattered in life.
She felt her heart softening toward him, glad he was proving to be somewhat human after all. Quite a far cry from the first day they met, when Gwendolyn was certain she could never like such a stuffed shirt.
The steak placed before Gwendolyn was so large, a portion of the fatted tip hung over the edge of the plate. Thankful for the concept of doggie bags, Gwendolyn was just about to reach for the steak sauce when Sebastian’s hand touched hers.
“Care to say a blessing?”
“A blessing?” Gwendolyn was accustomed to muttering a few words of thanks for meals consumed in private, but never in public. She perused the room and noticed every table was full.
“We don’t have to, if you’re embarrassed.”
A sense of shame engulfed her. “I guess I shouldn’t be.”
Sebastian flashed her a smile and took her hands in his. Their comforting warmth left her feeling secure. The prayer he spoke was barely above a whisper. “Our Father, we thank You for Your bountiful provision and the time we have this night to share in it. In Christ’s name we pray, amen.”
He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them. Feeling self-conscious all the same, Gwendolyn darted her glance over the room. None of the other patrons had noticed their gesture. To her surprise, her relief was mingled with disappointment. Perhaps their willingness to pray before a meal could have inspired others. Biting into the savory meat, she resolved not to be shy about saying blessings in public in the future.
“Enjoying your steak?” Sebastian seemed pleased.
“Mmm!” was all Gwendolyn could muster with her mouth full. Nodding, she dug into the baked potato slathered in butter and sour cream.
“I must confess, I’m surprised to see you eating so well.” He took a sip of coffee.
She swallowed, an unpleasant thought occurring to her. “Please don’t tell me this is a test.”
“Of course not. What would make you think that?”
“You know perfectly well.” Putting down her fork, Gwendolyn realized the voice that exited her lips was more snippy than she had intended, yet she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “Sebastian, you have no idea what my life has really been like. You seem to think I’m too thin.”
“Says who?”
“You did. The day I first met you in your mom’s office, and you asked me if I ever touched a piece of chocolate.”
“Oh.” He stared at his empty plate.
“You just don’t understand.”
Mimicking her, he put down his own fork and leaned forward. “Then why don’t you make me understand?” His voice held no dare.
“I’ll try.” She sighed. “All through school, I was teased and taunted for being a bean pole. Until ninth grade, I was taller than anybody else in class, including the boys. After they started catching up to me in height, I hoped and prayed the teasing would stop. But it didn’t, because then they decided I was too skinny.” Remembering those lonely times, she clutched her stomach. “I would go home every night and drink milk shakes until I was about sick, hoping to gain weight. But no amount of high-fat foods, or anything else, helped. I was known as ‘the bean pole’ until graduation day.”
“Your classmates don’t get extra credit for originality.”
“They didn’t have to. I got the point.”
“I’m sure you did.” Sebastian’s mouth softened, and he shook his head slightly in a gesture of sympathy. “You’re right. I had no idea. That must have been terrible for you.”
“It was.” She sighed.
“But you judge others. You just had to hire a model yourself.”
“True. But I always try to judge favorably. And when I look for friendship, I don’t go by looks.”
“Maybe God was trying to teach you something through your high school experiences,” he pointed out.
She nodded. “I learned a lot.”
“Good. So you’re not still doing crazy things like drinking yourself silly with milk shakes, are you?”
Gwendolyn shook her head. “No.” She smiled in spite of herself and swept both arms over her body. “Can’t you tell?”
“No. You’re perfect. Perfect just the way you are.”
“I wouldn’t have known it…” The faraway look on Sebastian’s face caused Gwendolyn to lay down her imaginary sword. “What’s the matter, Sebastian? What are you thinking about?”
He shook his head as if returning from Oz. “Nothing.”
“I know that’s not so. I told you about my miserable school experience. The least you can do is tell me about yours.”
“I wasn’t the one who was miserable.”
“Then you were the bully.” Having seen the competitive and disagreeable side of Sebastian, this wasn’t a stretch for Gwendolyn to imagine.
“Actually, I wasn’t.” He half-smiled. “I was thinking about Candy.”
“Candy? Oh, you mean your petit fours.”
“No. My sister, Candy.”
“Sister?” Gwendolyn didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. “I had no idea you had a sister.”
Sebastian extracted a photo from his wallet. Faded with time, it was the portrait of a sprightly blond teenager. Gwendolyn speculated that Rhoda must have looked much like Candy when she was that age.
“So beautiful,” Gwendolyn said with unabashed admiration.
“And so thin. At least in this picture.” He studied it. “Too thin. And do you want to know why?” His eyes narrowed as his voice took on a hard edge. The misty eyes were gone. “Because of people like you. Skinny people. People who never knew what it was like to be fat.”
“But, Sebastia—”
“Can you imagine what it must be like for a girl to be overweight, especially when her p
arents own a bakery?”
Gwendolyn stiffened as she thought back to her own experiences. “Yes, I can.”
“I doubt it. Because even though people teased you, at least you’re built like a model. Just think about what it’s like for a plump girl to see people like you everywhere she turns. Women she’s supposed to emulate, to admire, to adore. And she can’t be like them. Because she isn’t made that way.”
“Look, I never said everyone should be like me.”
“You don’t have to. Just your photographs are enough.” He let out a sigh. “I’m not saying you’re to blame. You’re in an industry that demands thinness.”
Reaching for his hand, she managed to touch it before he pulled it away, clasping both hands around his cup of coffee.
She retreated and stirred her own coffee. “Obviously you’re upset. And understandably so.” Gwendolyn caught his gaze. “Tell me about her.”
“Candy was one of those girls who was chubby as a child and even more plump as a young teenager. People would say, ‘You have such a pretty face.’ ”
“How thoughtless.”
He nodded. “Maybe they wouldn’t have been so insensitive had they known how much worse their taunts made her feel.” Sebastian folded his arms across his chest. “Anyway, she wanted to be popular, and finally, with Mom’s help, she dieted until she was almost as thin as you. Unfortunately, it worked. She became popular.”
“Why is that so unfortunate?”
“Because if her weight loss hadn’t changed things, maybe she wouldn’t have been so determined to keep the weight off. At first, the popularity and praise seemed great. She seemed more secure than ever. But eventually she became addicted to the praise and began to agonize over every fluctuation in weight. She worked harder than ever to stay reed thin. She kept on losing more and more weight. Before our eyes, she went from looking healthy to a waif. It was awful.”
“It must have been,” Gwendolyn agreed. “But it seems her weight loss was motivated by kids at school, not the media.”
“Think again. I noticed Candy’s open admiration for models in magazines and thin actresses in movies and on television.”
Gwendolyn held her breath, bracing herself for whatever news he had to share.
Sweet Surprise: Romance Collection Page 32
