Dating for Two (Matchmaking Mamas)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Chapter Three

  The woman really did have a way about her. While the second graders had listened to him politely, there had definitely been a certain lack of enthusiasm among them.

  He didn’t really blame them. Very few seven-year-olds aspired to be lawyers—as a matter of fact, he doubted if there were any seven-year-olds who even remotely contemplated that. He would have had to have been something along the lines of an astronaut in order to have sparked their imaginations.

  But the moment Erin O’Brien took center stage—even before her T. rex started “talking,” he saw a definite shift in the pint-size audience. They appeared to be hanging on her every word, anticipating something funny or just plain fun. It was almost as if they seemed to sense what she was about to do—entertain them by bringing make-believe into their world.

  Steve found himself mesmerized by her, as well. But what really caught his attention was when he glanced in Jason’s direction and saw that his ordinarily solemn son’s face was animated, that he was taking in everything she said.

  And when Tex requested “just a teeny, tiny taste” of one of the children in the audience, he was stunned to see Jason laughing. Actually laughing.

  Jason hadn’t laughed since Julia had died.

  Steve could feel his heart constricting within his chest. When he’d lost his mother, the light had simply gone out of Jason’s eyes. Not only that, but his entire personality had undergone a drastic change. He had become introverted, retreating into the world of video games. He’d completely stopped playing with his friends, stopped everything that even vaguely reminded him of a time when his mother was still around.

  While it worried him, Steve was afraid to push the subject, afraid he might make things worse. His friends advised him to give Jason time.

  But how much was enough? No one had an answer, least of all him.

  And meanwhile, here Jason was, responding to a make-believe dinosaur and the woman who had given that T. rex life. It left Steve in utter awe. So much so that it took him a minute before he realized that Jason’s teacher was saying something to all of them.

  “—and I would like to thank both Ms. O’Brien and Mr. Kendall for coming in this morning and taking the time to talk to us about what they do for a living,” Mrs. Reyes concluded.

  The next minute, Erin was leaning into him, keeping her voice low as she prompted, “I think she wants us to stand up now.”

  Like a pop-up toy on a three-second delay, Steve quickly rose to his feet. He managed to effectively cover up his chagrin. He’d been so wrapped up in his discovery and his thoughts about Jason that he hadn’t been paying attention to what the teacher was saying.

  He flashed a quick smile at the older woman, who looked pleased. “Class, how do we say thank you to these two nice people?”

  In response to her question, the children began to clap.

  “Thank you for your attention,” Steve said, acknowledging their applause.

  “Maybe next time, you’ll have some tasty snacks for me,” Erin said in her best Tex the T. rex voice.

  The class clapped harder as they laughed and cheered.

  “You certainly know your audience,” Steve told her in an aside.

  “I was a kid once,” she said by way of an explanation. “Weren’t you?”

  “I can’t remember,” he answered, tongue in cheek.

  He noticed that the valise she had brought with her seemed to be bulging excessively despite the fact that she had brought samples of the toys her company put out and those were now safely in the hands of her audience. The valise appeared almost too bulky for her to handle.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” Steve offered as he pushed open the classroom door so that she could walk out first.

  “That’s okay,” Erin demurred, crossing the threshold. She switched hands, taking the valise into her left one in order not to bang it into him. “I’ve been lugging around Tex and his friends since before they had a toy factory to call home.”

  Steve wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He closed the classroom door behind him and caught up to her in less than two strides. “Still, it would make me feel like a Neanderthal if I watched you struggle to your car with that.”

  “You could try closing your eyes,” she suggested.

  “This works better,” he countered, slipping his fingers deftly into the small space on the handle that she wasn’t currently holding.

  Erin was about to pull the valise a little closer to her, telling him that she was fine and it was no big deal, but then she shrugged, deciding to surrender the suitcase rather than play tug-of-war with it.

  She had to stop constantly trying to prove to the world that she wasn’t the sickly little girl anymore, she silently lectured herself. The voice in her head sounded oddly like her mother.

  “Wouldn’t want you to feel like a Neanderthal,” Erin said as she let him take the valise. “I’m parked right out front.”

  And then she remembered. “No, you’re not.”

  The voice actually did seem as if it came out of the valise. Steve paused, looking from it to her. “Your suitcase is arguing with you?”

  “Sorry, I do that sometimes when I’m nervous. Tex puts me on a more even keel,” she explained.

  “You’re nervous?” he asked, amazed, thinking she was referring to having to speak in front of Jason’s class. “You certainly didn’t act like it.”

  “That’s why I have Tex.” Actually, she’d been fine talking to the class. She related to children. Her problem was talking to adults. That made her nervous. But he did seem like a nice man. At least he hadn’t said anything about her behaving strangely.

  “I just remembered that I’m not parked right out front—I had to park by the curb. The school parking lot was full when I arrived. They really should have more parking spaces,” she said as they walked out of the building.

  Steve looked around. She was right. All the parking spaces in front of the school were filled with vehicles.

  “I guess when they built the parking lot, they didn’t count on so many of the sixth graders driving,” Steve quipped.

  He had a sense of humor. She liked that. “They must not be automatically promoting them to the next grade unless they can pass their tests.”

  He pretended they were having a serious conversation and deadpanned, “I guess not.”

  “My car’s right over there,” Erin said, pointing to a small, economical-looking white Civic that had seen its share of miles. She unlocked the driver’s-side door, then flipped a lever to unlock the other three.

  She noted that Steve was still holding her valise. “You can put the suitcase right there,” she prompted, and then smiled when she caught the surprised look on his face. She could almost see what he was thinking. “You think my car should be fancier, don’t you?”

  By the looks of it, the car was about seven years old or so and while it wasn’t dented, it did appear weathered.

  “I just thought you looked more like the sports-car type.”

  “Nope, not me. Besides, Jeffy runs very well,” she said, patting the car’s hood. “He was there for me when I needed him and I tend to be very faithful if something comes through for me.”

  Was she just talking about her car, or did she mean that in general? he wondered. The women he’d encountered lately all seemed to be interested in “newer, fancier, better.” Sticking with something reliable didn’t seem to be in their game plans. He was drawn to this woman with the funny voices.

  “Do you name everything?” he asked.

  “Mostly,” she answered seriously. “But only if their personality comes through—or the name fits.”

  He had to admit he was intrigued. “And just how does Jeffy fit a Civic?”

  “The letters in the license plate.” To prove
her point, Erin rounded the car and pointed to the rear plate, a combination of numbers and letters. The letters read JFF. “JFF is very close to Jeff, which is close to—”

  “Jeffy. I get it,” he concluded, then nodded, amused. “Interesting thought process.” Not to mention that she was a very interesting woman.

  He realized that if they went their separate ways right now, chances were that he would never see her again. He didn’t find that acceptable.

  Outside of his law practice, he was a fairly low-key, easygoing man who definitely wasn’t pushy, which was why he hesitated now.

  Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and he’d heard Jason laugh earlier. That definitely deserved further investigation.

  Steve caught the driver’s-side door as she was about to get into her car. She looked up at him quizzically.

  “Listen, I cleared my morning because I wasn’t sure how long this Career Day thing was going to last, so I don’t have to be back in the office until after lunch. Would you like to go somewhere and grab a cup of coffee or tea or something?” Because she wasn’t saying no, he added, “There’s a great little French bakery/café not too far from here.”

  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Erin glanced at her watch. There were things she had on her agenda for this afternoon and ordinarily, she didn’t just go off with a man she’d met less than an hour ago. As gregarious as she seemed around the children, around adults she was an extremely shy person who struggled to sound as outgoing as she knew she was perceived.

  For heaven’s sakes, it’s a café, not a sleazy bar in some rough neighborhood, a little voice in her head coaxed. Your mother’s always after you to get out more. This qualifies as “more” since you’re already out of the office. Go for it!

  Steve saw her looking at her watch and hesitating. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I thought that since I didn’t have to be back until after lunch that you were free, too. You probably have to be somewhere right after your talk.”

  He’s giving you a way out. Take it, she told herself. Take it!

  Still...

  “Well, not right after,” she allowed.

  “Great,” he responded with a wide smile that she found instantly appealing. “Why don’t I just get my car and you can follow me to the café—unless you’d rather I drove you there.”

  She liked the fact that he didn’t immediately try to dominate the situation. “I always loved multiple choice—I’ll follow you,” she decided, feeling better about having her car with her—just in case things didn’t go well. It was hard making a quick getaway if her car was two miles down the road.

  “Stay right there,” he told her as he began heading toward his own car.

  “Can’t very well follow you if you’re not there to follow, now, can I?” she called after him, amused.

  “Right.” Still walking, Steve turned around so that his voice would carry to her. “Be right back,” he promised.

  As he hurried off, all he could think was that if any of his clients had been privy to this less-than-suave behavior, they’d have second thoughts about having him represent them in anything, much less in a courtroom. But while his professional behavior was decisive, intelligent and sharp, the private Steve Kendall was not nearly as dominant or forceful as the public one.

  Julia had spoiled him. They had been the proverbial childhood sweethearts—he’d known he wanted to marry her when he was all of thirteen years old, even though it’d taken him another eighteen months to work up the courage to steal a kiss.

  That had clinched the deal—for both of them.

  There had been no dating other girls, no oats, wild or otherwise, that he’d wanted to sow. All he’d ever wanted was to be Julia’s husband and the day he proposed, Julia confessed that she’d never even thought about marrying anyone else but him. They were made for one another. Consequently, he had never had to endure and suffer through the rigorous training camp known as dating.

  That was why, he reasoned, he came up short now, why he just wasn’t any good at this whole dating-ritual thing. Even though he did his best to channel his professional persona into his private life whenever possible, he would be the first to admit, albeit only to himself, that he just didn’t really know what he was doing.

  Small talk was particularly difficult for him.

  But even though they had said only a few words to each other, Erin seemed very easy to talk to. And, far more important than his own comfort, he could see that she’d made an impression on Jason. Or at least, she and her T. rex had.

  That made this an avenue he had to explore—for both Jason’s sake and his own.

  Pulling up to where Erin was still waiting for him, he rolled down his window and said—needlessly, he realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth—“Okay, you can follow me now.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She laughed, starting up her car. She fell into place right behind him.

  * * *

  The café he’d told her about was in the middle of a very small strip mall, nestled between a five-screen movie theater that guaranteed low admission prices for their slightly-less-than-newly-released movies and an art studio that prided itself on bringing out the budding artists buried within the five-to-ten-year-old students who attended.

  It seemed like a nice area, she judged. Best of all, there was more than ample parking available, so when he pulled into a spot, she was able to park right next to him.

  He got out of his vehicle and quickly hurried over to hers so that he could open the door for her as she started to get out.

  Chivalry was not dead, she thought to herself. This was nice.

  “It doesn’t look like much,” he told her as they crossed the lot to the front of the café, “but the pastries practically float off your plate and the coffee is the best around. I can’t speak for the tea, though,” he added, apologizing.

  “That’s all right, I’m really a coffee drinker at heart,” she told him.

  The scent of freshly brewed rich coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked cakes and pastries greeted them the moment Steve opened the door for her.

  Erin could feel her mouth watering the second she walked in. Between the aroma and the display of baked goods just behind the glass that ran the length of the counter, she was a goner.

  “Well, there goes my diet,” she cracked. “I think I gained five pounds just by inhaling.”

  “What is your pleasure?” the older woman behind the counter asked politely.

  Erin looked at the pastries, each one more tempting than the last. “One of everything,” she told the woman wistfully.

  Though pleasant, the woman behind the counter looked as if a sense of humor was not part of her makeup.

  “That can be arranged,” she said in a very serious voice.

  Afraid that the woman would begin placing things on the tray that Steve had picked up and was resting on the counter right now, Erin quickly shook her head.

  “Oh, no, no, I was just kidding, giving voice to a fantasy,” she explained. Taking a breath, she scanned her choices one last time and made up her mind. “I’ll have a cup of coffee and a cream-filled turnover.”

  “Make that two,” Steve told the woman.

  The dark-haired woman inclined her head. “As you wish,” she replied.

  With a grand sweep of her hand, she indicated that they should move along to the center of the counter, toward the register. She met them there, delivering two cups of steaming, aromatic black coffee and two large cream-filled turnovers, each residing on its own plate. The woman carefully placed the plates one at a time on the tray, right next to the coffee.

  She proceeded to ring up the sale. “Will that be together?” she asked.

  “No,” Erin answered.

  “Yes,” Steve said at the same tim
e, his voice resounding slightly louder than hers. Taking out a twenty, he handed it to the woman.

  “No, really, this isn’t necessary,” Erin protested, reaching into her purse.

  The woman seemed to take no note of her, handing Steve his change. He slipped what she’d given him into the tip jar beside the register and picked up the tray. For the first time, the older woman smiled.

  “You don’t have to pay for me,” Erin told him as he walked over to a small table for two to the left of the register.

  Setting the tray down, he looked at her. “If you had asked me out for coffee, I would have expected you to pay for me,” he told her cheerfully, despite the fact that he really wouldn’t have allowed her to pay. The idea of going Dutch had never appealed to him and it wasn’t something he felt comfortable about doing. Certainly not when it came to something as insignificant as a cream-filled turnover and a cup of coffee. “Tell you what,” he suggested, sitting down after she had taken her seat. “You tell me what fantasy you were giving voice to and we’ll call it even.”

  She looked at him, slightly confused. “What?”

  “Back there, when that woman looked like she was more than happy to give you ‘one of everything,’ you stopped her by saying you were only ‘giving voice to a fantasy.’” As he spoke, he distributed the two cups of coffee and then the two turnovers. With the tray empty, he removed it and put it out of the way on the floor behind his chair. “Did you used to dream about pastries?”

  He meant it as a joke, in the same vein that he’d asked her about naming inanimate objects. He hadn’t really expected her to answer his question seriously.

  “All the time,” Erin told him with a heartfelt sigh.

  “You weren’t allowed sweets as a kid?” he asked. The guess arose out of his own childhood, when one of his friends—Billy—had parents who wouldn’t allow him to have any candy, cake or cookies. Billy’s snacks were all painfully healthy foods, such as nuts, fruits and carrots. The second Billy was out of the house, he made up for it, scarfing down as many sweets as he could get his hands on. He’d had a serious weight problem by the time he was twenty.