by Jackie Braun
Alec bet that when Julia was a kid, her folks rose at a respectable hour even on the weekends. No lazing abed until well after noon and then starting the day with a cocktail.
“Actually, we weren’t high school sweethearts. I thought Scott was a jerk at the time.”
That pulled Alec’s domestic daydreaming up short. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So much for first impressions.”
Her shoulders lifted. “We didn’t start to date until a few years after high school graduation. His band played at a little pub near Loyola’s campus. He’d outgrown most of his jerkiness by then.”
Since it didn’t seem to bother her to talk about her late husband, Alec asked, “What was the name of his band?”
“The Grommets.” Her laughter was infectious. Alec joined in.
“The Grommets? Seriously?”
“Seriously. And their music was only marginally better than the band’s name.” She leaned her elbows on the edge of the table and nibbled the inside of her cheek. “In fairness, their cover of The Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’ was decent.”
“The Grommets,” Alec said again with a shake of his head. “Am I to assume he didn’t go on to make his living as a musician?”
“No. Thank God! He was an accountant.”
“With long hair?”
“It was a respectable length by the time he became a CPA, although not quite as short as yours. Anyway, long hair can be attractive, especially if it’s kept clean and looks healthy.” She tipped her head toward the window. “Even from here I can tell that Mr. Neon’s is full of split ends.”
“What would you have him wear to, say, an interview for a midlevel executive’s job?”
“Well, assuming that is what he’s after, I wouldn’t automatically put him in a suit and tie.”
“No?”
“Some people look so uncomfortable in certain clothes that it defeats the purpose. The idea is for them to put forward the best version of themselves. You don’t necessarily want to create a false image.”
“That’s good to know,” he said wryly.
“In your case, it’s more a matter of dispelling a false image.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.” He reached for a sugar packet to have something to do with his hands. “I don’t think you did at first.”
She glanced away before admitting, “I wasn’t sure.”
“And now?”
“I’m having lunch with you, aren’t I?” She flashed a smile, but he wasn’t willing to let her off the hook so easily.
“The jury’s still out, though. You’re not completely convinced.”
“I don’t know you all that well, Alec.”
It was another dodge. Let it go, he told himself. Instead, despite his earlier decision that she would have to make the next move, he called her on it.
“Do you want to get to know me? And I’m not talking about so you can do your job, but because you’re interested in, well, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s for your own benefit.”
“Alec—”
He shook his head, cutting her off.
“Forget it.” He wasn’t sure why he’d pressed. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish. A date? An affair? When it came to women, he’d always taken the path of least resistance. He chose women who were fun, uncomplicated, fully interested in him. Women who were easy to dismiss when he grew tired of them. And he always grew tired.
He motioned toward the window again. “Let’s get back to Mr. Neon Hair. Would you let him wear bike shorts to a job interview?”
“No, but there are a wide range of options to be found between a suit and what one puts on to hang out with friends,” she said.
The waitress was back. This time with their glasses of iced tea, a couple of straws and a small plate piled with lemon wedges.
Alec unwrapped a straw. Before putting it in his tea, he used it to point to another man who was perched on a planter box just outside the deli. The guy was wearing olive-green cargo shorts, sneakers and a benign white polo shirt that managed to look dingy even against a backdrop of red geraniums. He was listening to music on an iPod, head bopping in rhythmic fashion.
“Okay, how about that guy? What’s your first impression?”
“Well, I’d say comfort is his main priority. The image he projects isn’t all that important to him.” At Alec’s raised brows, she clarified, “His hair is overdue for a trim, he looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a couple days and the shorts he’s wearing are wrinkled and distressed to the point of fraying around the seams.”
“That’s the style right now.” When her expression registered surprise, he added, “I’m not completely clueless.”
“They may be considered fashionable at the moment, but they are still a reflection of the wearer.” She smiled. “You wouldn’t own a pair of distressed shorts, would you?”
“No.”
Her smile turned smug. “I’m guessing that every pair of shorts you own has a crease down the front of the legs that’s sharp enough to cut paper.”
It was true. “Your point?” he asked dryly.
“You’re very...precise, I guess is the word I’m looking for. That’s true of more than your appearance. You don’t believe in coloring outside the lines.”
“Okay, but I might be persuaded otherwise. Under the right circumstances and with the right set of incentives, I can be flexible.” At her audible gasp, he frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I...it’s just an interesting word choice.”
“Flexible?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
He frowned. “I’m having a hard time deciding if I’ve just been insulted.”
“It’s merely an observation.”
“Then perhaps it’s a good thing we’re getting to know one another better, clearing up any lingering misperceptions.”
“Perhaps it is.”
She fiddled with a packet of sugar, flipping the edge back and forth between her fingers before tearing it open and adding the contents to her tea.
“What are you really thinking, Julia?” he challenged.
“Right now?”
“Right this very minute.”
She stirred her tea. “I’m thinking about Danielle and how she has been begging me since Christmas for a pair of jeans that come with holes on the thighs. They take distressed to a new level.”
Liar, Alex thought. But he let her off the hook. “And you’ve said no.”
“Repeatedly.” Julia’s shoulders rose. “Style or not, I can’t see plunking down that kind of money on a pair of jeans that will fall apart before she has a chance to outgrow them. Besides, it’s nearly summer. She won’t be wearing jeans much over the summer.”
“That’s very practical of you.”
“Now I’m not sure if I’ve been insulted.” She grimaced for effect. “Her birthday is coming up. Maybe I’ll put a bug in my sister Eloise’s ear. The jeans also come in capri length. Danielle could wear them into the fall, even if she has a growth spurt.”
“But you just said you didn’t think holey jeans were a worthwhile expense?” he reminded her.
She sipped her tea. “The role of mother and cool aunt are different.”
“Ah.” He squeezed a wedge of lemon into his glass. He couldn’t help but be envious. When he was a kid he’d often wished for siblings.
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Just the one.”
“And she lives here in Chicago?”
“Just outside the city, actually. She’s been after me to move out by her since Scott died. I’d be closer to my parents that way, too.”
“So, what’s stopping you?”
Julia snorted softly. “A decent down payment. Houses aren’t cheap in that area, even with the downturn in the housing market. That’s especially true since I’m after something that I won’t have to fix up. I don’t have time to be handy, even if I owned my own
tools, which I don’t. So, I’m saving my pennies. I don’t want to have a huge mortgage hanging over my head.”
Practical, he thought again, but didn’t say it. They had very different problems when it came to their housing searches. Alec had plenty of money for a down payment on a turnkey property regardless of price range. He just didn’t know what to look for. Julia, on the other hand, appeared to know exactly what she wanted, she just couldn’t afford to buy it yet.
“My real estate agent called last night. He has another property he insists is perfect for me.”
“Oh? Where is it?” Julia asked.
He rattled off the location, to which Julia let out a wistful sigh.
“That’s in an excellent school district.”
Which of course would rate high on her wish list.
“My agent told me the same thing.” Not that the quality of a school district was important to Alec, except in terms of investment. A home in a well-regarded school district would sell faster and for more money than one in a district whose reputation was not as solid.
“Are you going to see it?” Julia asked.
He hadn’t planned to. He’d grown weary of looking, since he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Or even if what he sought existed. An idea formed. Before he had a chance to think it through, he blurted out, “Would you come with me?”
She blinked, every bit as surprised as Alec was that he’d tendered the invitation. But, in a strange way, it made sense. And so he told her, “I’d appreciate the input. It’s an investment for me, primarily, but I’m looking for...” He swallowed. His voice sounded hoarse when he admitted, “A home.”
“A home,” she repeated softly.
The way she was looking at him made Alec feel too exposed. Luckily, the waitress had returned with their sandwiches, saving him from further embarrassment. Or so he thought.
The club sandwich was cut into quarters, each held together with a toothpick spear. He divested one section of its spear and was just getting ready to take a bite when Julia said, “I recall you mentioning that you attended boarding school.”
He studied the sandwich, contemplated changing the subject, but he’d told Julia that he wanted to dispel any misconceptions about him she might have. How he was raised said a lot about the man he was—not all of it good. But fair was fair. “From the time I was seven.”
“Seven.” She pursed her lips. He knew what she was thinking. That was around her kids’ ages.
“As I mentioned, my parents led—lead,” he corrected with a rueful laugh, “a very nomadic lifestyle. That is to say, they enjoy traveling. They have a trip coming up soon, as a matter of fact.”
“That couldn’t have been easy for you as a child.”
“No.”
“But you were able to come home for summers and holidays. Right?”
“Generally speaking, children aren’t welcome at the places my parents choose to stay.” He returned the sandwich to his plate, his appetite waning. He squinted at Julia, “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”
But she shook her head. “I’m not so sure I believe that anymore,” she said, then added, “I’m sorry, Alec. For the boy you were.”
Uncomfortable with the sympathy he saw in her eyes, he said, “For the record, when I was a kid, I wouldn’t have wanted to tag along with them anyway. Trust me, spending time with a nanny in a hotel suite was even less fun than spending Christmas break at the Albans Preparatory Academy in Connecticut.”
Julia only look more looked horrified. “You spent Christmas break at a boarding school? All by yourself? My God! How old were you?”
Which time, Alec thought? He’d awoken on more than one blustery Christmas morning to an empty room in the ivy-covered dormitory before he’d graduated and moved on to college, where, more often than not, he’d done the same. He decided it best not to mention this.
Instead, he said, “I spent some of my Christmases with my grandfather in Nantucket.” Four in all. As well as a handful of Easters and summers. “His health wasn’t always the best, though.”
“I’m sorry, Alec,” she said a second time.
He shrugged, his gaze on the sandwich. “It was a long time ago.”
“I’m still sorry.” This time, she reached across the table and rested a hand on his arm.
Touched by her sincerity, he admitted, “I would like a home of my own, but I don’t really know what that means.”
“I’m not sure I can help you with that, but I’d be willing to go with you to see the house your agent called about. When would you like to go?”
He was in no hurry and his agent had assured Alec that the house, which had been on the market for more than eight months already, was unlikely to be snapped up anytime soon. “I was thinking I’d wait until the weekend. Saturday? Whatever time works best for you.”
“I’ve got a few hours free in the early afternoon.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
She picked up the paper napkin that was folded under her cutlery and spread it over her lap. He half expected her to qualify her agreement by relating it to work. In truth, he was almost hoping she would. That way he would have felt less nervous and exposed.
But all she said was, “I’m sure.”
EIGHT
The rest of the week passed in a blur for Julia, as she crammed end-of-the-school-year activities into her already packed daytime routine. Not only had she managed to slip away from the office for Colin’s field day and Danielle’s awards assembly, but she’d also dropped off cookies for a PTO fund-raiser and, as the first-grade homeroom mom, she’d collected money from the other parents to purchase a gift for the teacher.
To accomplish all of this and stay on top of everything at the office, she’d burned the midnight oil after putting her kids to bed. To stay awake and energized, she’d been making her morning coffee so strong that the spoon all but stood up in it.
By the time the weekend rolled around, she was exhausted and a little amazed that she’d managed to cross so many things off both her personal and professional to-do lists.
Overall, she was pleased with the progress she was making on Alec’s revamped image. He was still being bashed in cyberspace, but not quite as badly. As anticipated, the television interview with the mom from the park had been pure gold, especially since the network had picked it up and the story had gone national. The good press only added to how well he’d done on the other programs she’d booked for him. It hadn’t scored the kind of reach that Alec’s initial article had garnered, but it was making the rounds on the internet and being talked about on blogs, including the one Alec had taken a guest turn on just the day before.
His carefully crafted guest entry, which Julia had gone over with a fine-toothed comb before allowing him to submit it, was getting a lot of hits.
She logged on to her computer and checked the comments again early Saturday morning as she sat in her tidy home office wearing yoga clothes and sipping green tea. Julia had decided to switch to a lower-octane caffeine beverage after her mother remarked at the previous evening’s soccer match that Julia was talking faster than an auctioneer.
She scrolled down to the end of the article, where more than six hundred comments had been left. They were a mixed bag. Some were filled with vitriol. Others made it clear the poster was at least willing to give Alec the benefit of the doubt, with a smattering of messages firmly in his camp. Taken in total, they represented a major shift from previous blogs, where the comments easily had run ninety percent against him.
Julia was pleased, but she’d been in the perception business long enough to know better than to declare victory. She equated the progress made during the past week to drips of water. A few drips didn’t do much. But enough of them, pounding down in relentless succession, could alter the landscape.
Were they enough to save Alec’s job? It was too early to tell what impact her efforts were having on stockholders’ perceptions and the company’s bottom line. The
bigger question in Julia’s mind had become: Were her efforts enough to save Alec?
Like the public at large, her opinion of him was shifting, with her emotions threatening to catch up to the physical attraction that had been there from the start. A lot of what she saw, she liked. And some of what she now understood about his character made her ache for him. Christmases alone? School breaks spent in empty dormitories or in the care of nannies? An aging grandfather who had tried to fill the gaps, but couldn’t because of health issues?
Was it any wonder Alec wasn’t sure what a real home was supposed to feel like?
Or that family life was a mystery to him? He saw children as an inconvenience because that was what he had been to his parents. More amazing to Julia was that he wasn’t more emotionally stunted.
Unfortunately, not everyone shared her view, Julia noted as she continued to skim the blog entries.
THE MAN IS A MONSTER!!!! one read. It was hard to skip over since it relied so heavily on capital letters and exclamation points. HE SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED AROUND KIDS, MUCH LESS RUNNING A COMPANY DEDICATED TO THEM. DON’T LET THE PR CAMPAIGN FOOL YOU!!!!
She frowned at the “shouted” comment, her stomach knotting, until she came to the next one. And the next. And the one after that. Three readers in swift succession had rallied to his defense. And so it went, back and forth, but with comments generally running in his favor. Her brows hitched up when she came to a few, presumably written by single moms, in which the commenter offered to “help” Alec get over his aversion to children. The phone rang as Julia read one of those.
Alec’s voice greeted her, eliciting a shiver. She told herself it was his timing rather than the pleasing tenor of his voice that caused it.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he began. “I took the chance that you’d be up since it’s nearly nine. And, well, kids, they get up early. Right?”
“Since seven,” she agreed. Julia had risen an hour before them out of habit, even though she hadn’t called it a night until just after one. Danielle and Colin were watching cartoons in the living room. They’d eaten breakfast and were dressed. “What are you wearing...doing?” She frowned at the Freudian slip. Before he could reply, she added, “I’m reading the blog comments. More than six hundred have been left so far.”
