Boyfriend by the Book: A feel good romantic comedy

by Briggs, Laura

  In her single days, Steph thought any guy who was unmarried, under the age of forty, and looked good in a business suit was worth a second look. Now that she had a serious boyfriend, she applied the same logic to her single friends, namely me. “You should join a book club, or maybe a gym,” she continued. “Or maybe visit a health food market. You’ll know he cares about his image if he’s eating healthy, right?”

  I made a face. “I’m not hitting on random guys at the food market. That just seems desperate.” And I wasn’t anywhere close to desperate. I wasn’t even thinking about this until they sprang the stupid book on me.

  A man with a name tag pinned to his shirt walked past and Stephanie spritzed me with one of the perfume bottles.

  "Ouch!" I said. The corner of one of my eyes was burning from the spray.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “That was one of the managers. If he thinks I’m socializing on the clock, I’ll be in trouble, so just pretend you’re a customer, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, coughing a little at the cloud of perfume. It was a floral scent, not unpleasant but stronger than my usual choice.

  “What about speed dating?” she suggested. “Jillian from the cosmetics department goes to it once a month. She’s met a couple of guys with potential—”

  I shook my head. “I want it to happen naturally. Not a fix-up, or anything like that.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Steph lectured me. “You never know where you’ll meet someone. I met Keith by splitting a cab outside the hospital, so you just never know where it will happen.”

  Stephanie’s boyfriend, Keith, was a surgeon at the ER, so this wasn’t such a long shot, really. I decided to let that go. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Stephanie’s manager walked past again and she hit me with another cloud of perfume—this time something with a strong lemon scent. I wrinkled my nose, coughing as it went to war with the floral scent from before. “Is this stuff actually popular?”

  “No,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m giving out samples. We try to push the merchandise that no one’s buying.”

  “Give the customers what they don’t want,” I joked, thinking it was a far cry from my own job, where the customer came first, no matter what.

  We chatted a few minutes longer, then Stephanie had to circulate again. I wandered off among the different boutiques and stores, enjoying the rest of my day off. A display of pearl chokers caught my eye at the jewelry store. Most of the merchandise was far outside my price range, but I liked to keep up with the trends in case a guest at the Regent needed my advice on it.

  Besides, Jane Eyre would have been a window shopper, right? A little voice in my mind teased. Gazing sensibly without any plans to become a big spender.

  The sales clerk was helping a young couple look at rings on the other side of the counter. Each time she brought out another sparkling diamond band, the woman gasped and hugged her fiancés arm tighter. As I watched them, a tiny wistful feeling invaded my chest. They looked so happy and excited.

  I didn't think about it that often, being single, but now I did. Would I find the kind of connection that couple seemed to share? A love so deep I wanted to make it last forever? I couldn’t even find someone to buy me perfume, as Stephanie had pointed out.

  I was a long ways from picking out rings and saying vows. Somehow, I felt picturing myself as Jane Eyre wasn’t going to make that a reality any sooner, no matter what my friends thought.

  How could I convince them it was a silly idea from the start? I knew they were just looking out for me. They wanted me to be happy, but this wasn’t the way to do it. They would never leave me alone if I didn’t convince them otherwise.

  Still mulling this over, I moved alongside a bracelet display case. The rows of jeweled inserts and intricate engravings were beautiful. There was a silver and turquoise one that would go perfectly with a blouse I had purchased recently. It was on sale, a price I could afford with the help of my last holiday bonus.

  Another customer strode up to the counter. A man in a business suit, a frown on his face at the sight of the clerk helping someone else. Studying a case of wrist watches, his frown deepened. He alternated between checking his own watch—a Rolex, from the looks of it—and studying the ones on sale beneath the display glass as he waited for the clerk to notice him. He gave me a quick glance before sinking into a quiet reflection of the merchandise.

  Stephanie would see this guy as a perfect candidate for practicing my inner heroine on. He definitely fit her criteria for consideration: tall and broad-shouldered, his business suit an expensive gray wool and his ring finger empty as it tapped impatiently against the counter. As I watched him, an idea stole over me, slowly.

  Why not try it at least? That way, when it didn’t work, I could tell the girls I had given it my best shot and nothing came of it. Because that ‘be the heroine of your life’ stuff was just a cheesy gimmick for selling books. The author’s so-called relationship insights? They were less insightful than the fiction they were based on!

  So prove it. Prove they’re wrong. Prove it’s nothing but a marketing gimmick, and your friends will have to let it drop eventually. All you need is a couple failed encounters to say you gave it a chance and nothing happened.

  The stranger was still waiting for the clerk to notice him. Offering a sympathetic smile, I told him, “Lots of choices, aren’t there?”

  “Too many.” He let out a sigh. “My assistant was supposed to run this errand, but we had a scheduling mix-up. Now, I’m forced to make a last-minute decision on my lunch hour, when I should really be prepping for my next client meeting.” He sighed again. “It’s inconvenient to say the least.”

  Hmmm. A little bit gruff, but not completely unreasonable. Just frustrated, I sensed.

  “Maybe I can help,” I suggested. “I have some experience giving people advice on last-minute decisions.”

  “Including gifts for hard-to-buy-for-relatives?”

  “Those too,” I promised. “Gifts of all kinds.”

  “Is that so?” He sounded skeptical, but I sensed he was interested. In my advice, that is. I wasn’t expecting a magic connection from this encounter, or even a phone number exchange. Just a way to discredit the relationship book my friends were bent on using to manage my would-be love life.

  Be sensible. Be practical, with a little touch of humor. Be Jane Eyre in a modern shopping mall.

  “Are you a personal shopper?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow for the possibility. He broke me free of the inner mantra which was trying to channel 'Jane' from my depths.

  “Sometimes, yes. If that’s what the client needs,” I answered, smoothly. I held out my hand. “Jodi Nichols, hotel concierge. I'm a daily consultant on every subject from fashion to first class dining.”

  “Robert Torrance, befuddled businessman.” A gleam of humor invaded the steel gray eyes that met mine. Shaking my hand, he explained, “My niece graduates from college this Saturday. I thought a timepiece would make a nice, practical gift, but none of these quite seem right.”

  A watch seemed a little old-fashioned for a college grad, if this man’s niece was anything like the youthful guests of the Regent. Thinking it over, I asked, “What did your niece major in?”

  “Romance languages.” He shook his head, adding, “What on earth is she going to do with something like that?”

  I stifled a smile. Probably, he thought everyone should have a degree in something sensible, like business. “She could teach,” I suggested. “Or work for academic publications.”

  He made a noncommittal sound, so I switched back to the first subject. “Maybe a watch isn’t the best choice for this occasion. Unless your niece has some job interviews coming up soon?”

  “Not that I know of,” he grumbled.

  He really had the moody, could-be-a-jerk attitude down pat. Yet I sensed there was more to him than this current mood of impatience. It was a good challenge for my ‘inner Jane Eyre’, I supposed, as stupid as that sou
nded.

  I plunged ahead. “What about a bracelet instead?" I asked. "They have some beautiful designs here. And if you chose one with her birth stone, it would make it seem more personal.”

  “Her birthday is in July.”

  The same month as mine. Pointing to a bracelet on the first row, I told him, “Ruby is for July. That one with the silver band is nice, don’t you think? She could wear it for a formal occasion, or just a night out with friends. It's not as practical, but it's an attractive choice that can be worn either casually or professionally.”

  It didn’t cost much more than the diamond studded watch bands he’d been looking at, I noticed. Maybe that would persuade him even better.

  “That’s not bad, is it?" he answered. "I can see that doing nicely.” He smiled, the lines beginning to smooth along his forehead. It softened his manner, making him seem younger and less intimidating. “A very helpful suggestion,” he told me. “I’m indebted to you, Ms. Nichols.”

  His gaze lingered on me this time, and I realized that he was actually admiring me. Granted, my younger years might be the reason — but he had praised my sensible advice.

  I blushed slightly. He wasn’t handsome exactly, but he exuded a confidence that was hard to miss. His manner, though brusque, seemed to carry a sort of unexpected charm. Sort of like Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre, come to think of it. A little older, but very distinguished. Probably charming, too. But capable of being a little dark and brooding at times....

  That must be the self-help book getting to me. I couldn’t really be comparing a total stranger to Jane Eyre’s gothic hero. Embarrassed for even thinking it, I gave him a polite smile and said, “I was glad to help.”

  “What about letting me thank you more properly?” Rochester—I mean, Robert—asked, giving me another smile. “Over dinner say. I have a reservation for one at Finways tonight, but I could easily make it for two.”

  I stared at him. For a moment, my mind went blank. Did he really just ask me to dinner? I might have misheard it, given my train of thought a moment before. But he was still standing there, waiting for my answer.

  Sure, he was older than me by more than a decade, I felt certain. But he was also dark, handsome, and confident. Exactly the kind of guy who never noticed me romantically when I was the smiling concierge who greeted him behind the hotel desk. And I was available, as all three of my friends would leap to point out if they were here — and I knew, with a little twinge of regret, that there was nobody else interested in me right now.

  “Dinner sounds nice,” I told him. As my heart gave a flutter that I couldn't believe was the result of the silly book on my coffee table at home.

  _________________________

  Finways, the place Robert suggested we meet for dinner, was a modern establishment popular with the city’s business crowd. Its polished wood interior and expensive furnishings in muted earth tones made me think of the conference room at the Regent.

  Robert was already seated when I got there. He wore the same suit and tie as earlier, meaning he’d probably come straight from the office. “You look wonderful, Ms. Nichols,” he told me, smiling with approval for the sweetheart suit I had chosen.

  It was attractive, but I hoped it might still be practical. Wasn't that the angle of being Jane Eyre? Not that I really believed that anything from that book had made Robert notice me.

  This was just a nice evening out. A nice date with a guy who probably just liked having a companion for dinner.

  “Thank you,” I told him. "Please, call me Jodi."

  "Of course," he said, with a smile. "But your professional name suits you — I think you've earned its title since you manage to help even strangers in a mall find their answers."

  I laughed, even though I wasn't feeling entirely comfortable yet. I felt slightly overdressed, with so many women in skirts and blazers at the surrounding tables. This wasn’t a business dinner, I reminded myself. It was a date, the first one I had been on in months, even if it felt more like an experiment, given the way it had come about. But perhaps not everything about Reading Relationships was a fraud. Maybe somewhere in that literary mush had been a valuable insight into meeting new people. A helpful line or two on taking that essential step from meeting to dating.

  The server came by and took our orders. Mine was a French dish with pork chops bathed in mushroom sauce. Robert chose the lobster, then checked his cell phone as it made a buzzing sound. Instead of slipping it back in his pocket, he placed it on the table.

  Did he plan to take calls during our date? The idea stung a little, even though I was a little out of the loop on dating etiquette. He might be a successful businessman, but surely there was a time and place for those kinds of transactions. Wasn’t there a policy about cell phone use in the restaurant’s dining area? My own device was turned off at the bottom of my handbag.

  “I took your advice on the bracelet,” he told me, reaching for his glass of water. “I think my niece will appreciate your taste more than mine. She probably expected me to give her something like a gift trust, or stock in one of the companies I work with.”

  “Both of which she would appreciate when she’s older,” I pointed out. “So they aren’t terrible choices, really.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But yours will make a better impression for the big day. My niece is somewhat of a free spirit, I’m afraid. A lot like her mother, come to think of it.”

  He looked gloomy as he said this, making me picture a free-spirited youth in a sorority dorm party atmosphere. Or was she more like a rebellious debutante? Just like Rochester's ward in Jane Eyre, I thought, before I could stop myself.

  I decided not to ask any more questions about her; Robert was already checking his phone again.

  The first course was soup and salad, with a basket of hot rolls. Robert told me about his job as a mortgage broker, the name of his firm familiar to me from billboard and TV ads. His phone buzzed several more times from beside his plate. He checked it each time, occasionally typing a reply.

  Jane Eyre wouldn’t let him get away with that, would she? Completely irrational thoughts like this kept popping into my head, thanks to the stupid relationship book, although this one seemed sensible enough. Looking to fictional characters for guidance in the romance department was laughable, of course — but maybe it had a legitimate point when it came to Rochester's selfish treatment of Jane now and then. Jane had known how to handle those moments. I needed to remember that, before I let myself be ignored and bored beyond the limits of first date politeness.

  Robert’s phone buzzed for about the tenth time. He picked it up, reading the message on the screen. Scowling, he typed a reply.

  “Hectic week for business?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going, despite these interruptions. Maybe he would get the hint and pay a little more attention to his present surroundings. "It's a pity you don't even have time to enjoy a nice restaurant due to a tiny little screen." That was Jane talking, I decided.

  His smile was grim as he answered, “You could say that. Divorce is a messy kind of business. Fortunately, I have the best firm in the city working round the clock on my behalf.”

  Divorce? I stared at him. “I’m sorry, but are you saying—” Lowering my voice, I asked him, “Are you married?”

  “Only for a few more weeks,” he replied, nonchalantly. “Just a few kinks to smooth out the final details.” He smiled as the waiter refilled his water goblet.

  I was shocked. Robert hadn’t mentioned a wife—ex or otherwise—that moment at the jewelry counter, and I hadn’t seen a ring on his finger.

  "Dessert?" he asked.

  "No, thanks," I said. "I think it's time for me to go." I gave him my best polite-but-empty smile I used when dealing with the hotel's rudest patrons as I lifted my handbag and said my goodbyes.

  It wasn’t as bad as Mr. Rochester’s secret in Jane Eyre. Not even close. But if that was my only measuring stick for this date, then it needed some major readjustments, I
felt, as I drove home.

  Nothing about this evening made me want to repeat it. Except the idea of sharing dinner with a man in a formal setting, that is. But my date was being outshined by woodwork and gourmet soup—not a good sign.

  How had Jane found consolation when Rochester disappointed her? In her work, of course. Although I didn't have schoolchildren's papers to grade, I did have the Pewter wedding reception's details to double check before the big event, and it would have to do.

  _________________________

  It was my fault for picking Jane Eyre, my friends claimed. I had channeled the wrong heroine, thereby attracting the wrong sort of admirer. That was how they actually saw it, believe it or not, after I told them triumphantly about the smash-up that was my dinner with Robert.

  “You already have too much practicality in your life,” Stephanie informed me. “That Robert guy sounded like a cold fish. He was obviously married to his work.”

  “And his wife,” I pointed out. "Divorce papers or no, I have zero interest in dating a man who just ended that sort of commitment. If he’d mentioned it in the jewelry store, I never would have gone out with him." The fact I had sat through those last few bites of dinner with him left me feeling vaguely guilty.

  “Married men are a definite no,” Stephanie agreed. “So are bad boys and players. You need someone focused on you. Someone completely committed to making your relationship work. That’s not a Rochester trait, since he obviously fooled Jane into a commitment, then regretted not telling her the truth when it was too late.”

  “Exactly,” Kristen piped up. “Even if this guy had been everything Rochester is, he wasn't the right choice for your hero anyway. You need someone romantic-minded. And being like Jane Eyre just isn’t going to attract that kind of personality.”

  She and Stephanie had carpooled home from work, picking me up outside the hotel. Steph smelled strongly of a cleaner-evoking perfume, which was why Kristen rolled down the car's windows after a few minutes.