by Freda, Paula
The expression in Cal's eyes warmed. "You know, sweets, of late there's something real grown-up about you."
"It's what happens when you're on your own and there's no one to coddle you," Macey said, nose turning up. She didn't realize how that gesture affected Cal, that is, until he unexpectedly drew near, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Friday is your birthday. Do you have plans?"
Some of the self-assurance left her. She glanced down at the tips of her black winter boots. Day after day she expected to find him, Mr. Right, the man of her dreams who would fall head over heels in love with her. But as seemed to be her curse, none of the young men who fit that image at the firm, or even at the fast food restaurants where she bought lunch, did more than smile at her, exchange polite conversation, and walk away. A couple of young bucks had asked her for a date. She'd smiled appreciatively, but told them she was busy that week. They hadn't asked her again, no doubt seeing through her excuse and realizing from the tone of her voice, she wasn't interested in them. And then there had been that disastrous episode with Lucas. Cal was the only one who never gave up.
She glanced up, an unusual humbleness in her gaze. "Not a one," she told him.
Would you like to go to dinner with me?" Before she could answer he added, "As always, Macey, no strings attached."
He need not have added that remark. She intended accepting his offer for dinner. But used to her rejections, he had assumed her reply. She couldn't really blame him.
"The Nelsons plan to celebrate my birthday with dinner at their apartment over the weekend," she told him. "They have been extra busy this week working on a particularly complicated brief. But I'd like to celebrate my twenty-first on its actual day. Yes, Cal, I'd like to go out to dinner with you on Friday."
He nodded his approval. "I'll pick you up at eight. There's this elegant dine and dance restaurant further uptown I think you'd like, The Rose Slipper, owned by a friend of my mom."
"Sounds nice. Okay," Macey said. "I look forward to it."
Cal waited until she entered her apartment and said goodnight to him, before walking down past the three apartments to his own.
Locking the door behind her, Macey took off her coat and her snow boots, and wiggled her toes as she slid her feet into furry slippers. She plunked down on her red gabardine couch. At least she would be celebrating her twenty-first with a man she liked and trusted, one who cared for her as no other, except for her parents, of course. She always felt comfortable with Cal, as comfortable as she hoped to feel with Mr. Right, when he finally showed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On Friday evening, Macey stood inspecting herself in the mirror that hung by her front door. It was part of the furnishings that had come with the apartment. She spun, and the flare skirt of her teal party frock danced about her stockinged legs. She'd searched high and low, until she found a pair of pantyhose the exact color of teal that matched the V-necked dress. Cal might remonstrate about the low-cut bodice and the bit of cleavage it showed, but the bodice of the dress she'd been tempted to buy originally, was cut with a much lower V. The modesty her parents ingrained in her since childhood, and the fact that Cal's temper would hit the roof, had decided her on the final purchase.
Not that he could really stop her from wearing whatever she chose, but her life here in New York was going well, and antagonizing Cal might change his mind about returning to Montana and the foreman's job at his parents' ranch. Tonight especially she wanted everything to go well.
She was right not to choose the dress with the lower V cut. It would not have elicited the admiration she read in Cal's eyes that evening when he presented himself at eight in his best outfit, that included a tan blazer, bolo tie, brand new ten-gallon hat, and new leather boots.
All through the cab drive to the restaurant, he didn't speak much. He seemed almost shy, like a schoolboy on his first date with a pretty schoolgirl. When he did speak, it was to say, "Macey, you look beautiful, and very grown-up."
He was the perfect gentleman, opening doors for her, escorting her into the restaurant, a truly elegant establishment, complete with a dance floor and a band. The restaurant was decorated with Central American art and rich dark gracefully carved woodwork, tables and captain chairs. The waitresses and waiters were uniformed in black and white.
She and Cal entered through glass paned double doors overlaid with wrought iron scrollwork patterned in fleur de lis. The hostess who greeted them was middle-aged with shoulder length hair the darkest brown Macey had ever seen, unashamedly streaked with silver and gray. Must be her natural color, Macey mused, unable to spot any hint of different colored hair roots. The hostess approached them, her gaze fixed on Cal. Macey gasped as she threw her arms around him.
"Cal, how long has it been? It's so good to see you."
Macey watched surprised as Cal returned the woman's embrace with a hearty hug. "Aunt Doreen, what are you doing here?"
"I came up with Eduardo to help him settle in as the new manager."
"So Uncle Esteban has finally let go of Ed's reins."
"In a manner of speaking," Doreen said. "But you know my husband. Old world, traditionalist. He fully expects Eduardo to take over the estate upon our retirement."
"Ed has never wanted that responsibility," Cal said. "Jacinta may yet get her wish to one day run the estate and the night club."
Doreen chuckled. "Yes, she's quite capable. Esteban always says she takes after me, when he first met me, both in stature and as independent. But he still sees her as his little girl, and not the well-educated, self-sufficient woman she's grown into. He will not let go easily of his menina bonita."
"His little girl is in her mid twenties. He will do as you ask, Aunt Doreen. You know in the end he always does."
"Most of the time," Doreen laughed. But don't tell him that," she warned, with a wink. "You know, Jacinta had a crush on you for years. But you were in love with someone else." Her gaze fell on Macey. "And still are, I see."
Cal quickly explained, "Macey is here as a good friend. She turned twenty-one today. I thought The Rose Slipper would be a nice place to celebrate her birthday. Even more-so, now that you and Ed are here."
Doreen extended her arms and offered Macey an equally warm embrace. Macey smiled a stiff greeting. The woman was a stranger to her, despite that Cal seemed to know her well. Doreen released her. "You feel strange, dear, I can tell. It's a pity my other set of twins are not here. They are more your age, and would make you feel at home. Come, let's get you both seated. Turning twenty-one is a special day. I'll do my best to make this a memorable evening."
When they were seated at a large round table, enjoying a before dinner drink, a tall figure accosted their table. Cal saw him first. Macey caught him glaring. She quickly glanced up.
"Well, hello. I knew our paths would cross again," he said in that English accent she had so admired the day he helped her up when she fell outside the cab. He bowed, unexpectedly taking her hand into his to place a kiss on its back. Macey snatched her hand away. Had he forgotten their last meeting, and that she knew what he was – a flesh peddler. She heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back as Cal reared up. Whatever Cal meant to say or do, was put on hold, as another man approached their table. The smell of exotic cologne pulled her gaze away from the Englishman to the face of the handsomest Latin she had ever seen.
"Cal, what a wonderful surprise. My mother just told me that you were here." He clasped Cal's arm in an affectionate shake. He spoke English well, but none could deny the Latin accent, rich and heady. And a face even handsomer than that of the Englishman. He had the blackest irises Macey had ever seen.
"It's good to see you, too," Cal accepted the armclasp with equal affection. "This restaurant should do well with you at its helm."
"It better do," Eduardo said. "Or I may never fully earn my father's respect as his eldest son."
Macey hoped neither of the two men could hear her heart hammering in her chest, or Lor
d forbid, read her thoughts.
Dark stygian eyes settled gracefully upon her. "And this lovely creature must be Linda and Tanner's daughter, Macey."
She felt as though she had lost the power of speech. Another man approached the table. This one was the youngest of the three. He had blonde wavy hair, and beautiful blue eyes. And they were gazing at her with deep interest. "She has grown into a beautiful young woman, Cal." He bent and took the hand she had snatched from the Englishman. "You don't remember me, do you? But you were very young when my parents and I spent a week at the Driscoll's ranch. I only saw you a couple of times when your father worked as foreman at the Bar LB."
Macey rummaged through her memories. Her father had brought her down to the Bar LB on several occasions. But she had no memory of the blonde Adonis standing before her and holding her hand in a tender clasp. "I don't remember you at all," she said honestly.
He smiled, and Macey swallowed.
He said, "I know, we were both very young, and I didn't take well to strangers. I'm Michael Sands. My parents and Cal's parents have been good friends for many years."
Cal interjected, "Macey doesn't remember you, but Aunt Henrietta and Uncle Val remember her. I spoke to your parents recently over the phone. They told me you planned coming down to the City for a brief vacation."
So Cal must have planned this whole gathering. He could have told her, justifiable resentment flaring up and returning her ability to speak. She wasn't sure what she should say. She settled on remarking to Cal, "I didn't know your parents had more brothers and sisters. I never heard of all these uncles and aunts."
Michael released her hand. She wished he'd held it longer. He laughed good-heartedly. "Oh, sorry about that. We're so used to calling them Aunts and Uncles. They are not actually related to us. But we've known them all our lives, and they are very close friends of Cal's mother, as we call her, Aunt Leatrice."
"By the way, Cal asked, "where's John?"
"He's overseas, doing a stint in the Army,” Michael replied. “We're all praying he gets back home safely. My sister Sharon is studying abroad in France. I saw Aunt Cybelle and Uncle Mark and their four offspring before leaving home. They all send their regards and best wishes, as well."
"So everybody that supposed to be here, is here?" Macey asked, a bit confused.
"Yeah," Cal answered. "I'm sorry I didn't reveal that there were guests coming. I was worried you wouldn't come. But I wanted you to meet, the right kind of folks." He glanced heatedly at the Englishman.
"Well, perhaps, another time soon, we can share a drink," he said to Macey. "If you will all excuse me, I must get back to my table and my guests."
Don't count on it, Macey muttered under her breath.
But all in all, judging by the handsome charmers sitting down to join her for dinner, Cal had not erred. His Aunt Doreen was right about giving her a memorable evening.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dinner was fabulous. Roast beef, scalloped sweet potatoes, steamed broccoli and cauliflower. Red sweet wine. And a chocolate brownie filled with chocolate mousse and topped with sweetened whipped cream. Dancing music supplied by the live band interlaced the scrumptious fare. Macey's smiles followed one upon the other. Each of the young men at her table asked her to dance, and kept breaking in as she partnered each on the dance floor. Several times she glanced towards the Englishman's table, and caught him watching her. Twice she saw him rise, and could have sworn he intended coming over to her table again and asking her to dance, only to find Cal suddenly beside her, asking her to dance, and staring at Lucas with the darkest glare in his sage-green eyes. After giving her such a wonderful evening as her birthday present, she was not about to refuse him. Besides, those moments in his arms, between the exhilaration of being held by the “Mr. Rights,” were a welcome and necessary respite. Cal had always had a calming effect upon her.
“Well, are you having a good time?” Cal asked, as he led her across the floor to the tune of an oldie set to contemporary music, All The Things You Are.
“Yes, Cal, wonderful time. Thank you.” Oh why can't you be Mr. Right, she thought.
A young woman in a silver and black sheath, moved to the front of the band and the stand microphone. As the woman sang the lyrics to the music, Macey felt Cal's arms clasp her closer. Her chest against his, she felt the beat of his heart quicken.
“...You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day I'll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine....”
Macey spoke, more to quell her own heart at his closeness, “This is a beautiful song. I don't remember ever hearing it before.”
“It's an oldie,” Cal said. “Jerome Kern composed it, and Oscar Hammerstein wrote the lyrics.”
“I guess they both knew what it felt to love and not be loved back.”
“I think there are very few humans who haven't known that feeling at some point in their life.”
Macey lifted her face and gazed at Cal. “Like you and me, Cal?”
He didn't answer, but it wasn't difficult to guess what he was thinking. He loved her, but she didn't feel the same way about him. Just like the Mr. Rights she fell for, but didn't care for her in the same way. Maybe, she and Cal should join forces—
“Excuse me.” Michael said. “May I,” he asked Cal.
Neither she, nor Cal, had noticed him approaching them.
She felt Cal tense, then relax. “Of course,” he said. He let go. Macey experienced the weirdest sensation — a sudden void. But Michael taking her into his arms, redirected her thoughts. He fit her image of the perfect man, and the way he looked at her as they danced, gave her hope. Admiration. That's what she saw on his face. Admiration from someone who fit her image of a man she could fall in love with, someone who sent warm tingling flashes up her spine, as he twirled her under his arm and bent her backwards to place a kiss on her lips.
It was a memorable moment in her life, spoiled only with something she caught site of from the corner of her eye. Cal standing at the perimeter of the dance floor, watching, resigned, turning away, dreams shattered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On Christmas morning she received another surprise. Macey rose early and shrugged into her robe. It had snowed and the streets were covered in white. She opened her window a few inches, and inhaled the crisp sparkling freshness. She watched the sun rise, contemplating an enjoyable Holiday with Michael Sands.
Ever since meeting him on her birthday, they had dated steadily. He was a wonderful young man, handsome, tall, kind, intelligent, and a gentleman, what Cal's dad would tag, despite his east coast background, from good stock. And he really liked her. He had told her on their most recent date, that he believed he was falling in love with her — words she'd thought she would never hear from someone she considered Mr. Right. A dream come true.
Michael was two years older than her and not on the rebound from anyone. She was the first girl in his life about whom he had felt this serious. And Cal respected him as well. Cal — Cal, always Cal. What was it about him, that he always surfaced in her thoughts, in her plans. It felt as though everything needed his blessing. Since her dating Michael, he had never interfered. He kept his distance, and she only saw him whenever the Nelsons invited them for dinner.
As had become his custom, he sat near his hosts, and spoke mostly with them. Macey overheard him saying that he planned to return to his parents' ranch and the foreman's job. She'd known from their arrival in New York, that his was a temporary stay, until he felt she was settled and safe. But for some reason it bothered her that he hadn't told her he was readying to leave. It bothered her to think he wouldn't
be there, a few doors down, to keep an eye on her, from a distance. She knew for certain that he had continued to do so, especially that time when she and Michael had returned from a date especially late. Michael had kissed her and asked if he could come in for a nightcap.
Cal was there, in the back of her mind, listening. Of course, she told herself, it was all in her imagination. “Michael, nightcaps have a way of leading to more than a drink. And … it's not my style.”
“I didn't think it was,” he said. “And that makes you even more special to me. Macey, am I special to you?”
Her old self reared. “Oh yes, very special.”
Another first, Macey thought, when Michael didn't back away, but instead gazed at her with such affection, that she almost wished she had not been brought up with high morals. That is when she heard a soft click of a door being closed as quietly as possible. And Cal was there again in her thoughts.
After a hearty breakfast of hot cereal and light, sweetened coffee, she dressed in her best Holiday wear, a green and white velvet sheath. She tied her hair loosely with a suede ribbon of matching color.
Her door bell rang, and she hurried into the living area, past the red gabardine sofa, toward the front door. Starting out, she'd had no money to decorate her space with her preferred rustic style that would remind her of her birth state. Luckily, her small studio apartment had come furnished with contemporary traditional furniture in warm colored woods.
The door bell rang again. “I'm coming,” she called.
She peered through the peephole and saw her parents. Joy overwhelmed her at seeing them, especially during the time of year that they always shared together. There was so much she wanted to tell them. Macey opened the door and pulled them both into her apartment. She lost count of the hugs exchanged.
“Mom, Dad, let me ring Cal and tell him you're here. He'll be so pleased to see you.”
