Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3)

by Phelps, Brandi

  It was going to be a good evening.

  Chapter 4

  Frank and Josiah both ate second helpings of the pasta and complimented Aimee on the meal. Josiah and Charlene insisted on cleaning up, so Aimee led Frank into the living room to the elegant striped couch near a window with a view of the Mississippi River.

  “Would you like a coffee?” Aimee offered. “Charlene has a wonderful coffee maker. I could get you a cappuccino or an espresso.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Are you sure? Just a coffee, maybe? She has a Vienna roast that’s perfect with a touch of hazelnut cream.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Or a latte? I could make a mocha latte?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Do you not like coffee?”

  “Sometimes. In the winter, when it’s cold.”

  “How do you drink it?”

  Frank looked at her blankly. He sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, a safe distance away from her. Aimee smiled at his confusion.

  “I mean, do you take cream? Sugar?”

  “A little cream, usually.” He seemed to grasp why she was asking and shook his head. “But I don’t want any now, truly. Although if you want some...?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Aimee settled back against the seat. Frank appeared ill at ease, unlike at the barn dance. He kept glancing around him, as if he were nervous. Aimee liked the idea of making someone nervous. She’d always been the one who had to try to impress Tom, to keep up with him. Let Frank see how sophisticated she was and worry whether he could keep up with her.

  “What’s your favorite type of food?” she asked. “As you probably saw, I’m quite fond of Italian cuisine, although I do try to lighten the heavier dishes. Everyone’s so health-conscious these days.”

  “My favorite food? Most anything, I’d say.” When she just waited, he added, “My mother makes really good biscuits and gravy.”

  Biscuits and gravy? Was he still playing the turn-of-the-century farm boy about to go fight in the big, bad war? But they were on her turf now. Okay, Charlene’s, technically, but she saw no reason to keep catering to the time travel fantasy.

  “Comfort food,” she smiled at him. “Who cares about the carbs, right?”

  “Um, right.”

  “If you don’t have a particular type of food you like, what about movies? What’s your favorite genre?”

  He continued to look blank. “Genre?”

  “You know, sci-fi, drama, horror, Westerns?”

  “Josiah and I watched a movie about a horse. It was good.”

  “A movie about a horse? Which one?”

  “It was a black one.”

  Aimee started to speak and then stopped, studying him. Was he playing dumb to make fun of her? Secretly laughing at her? But his expression was completely innocent, and he met her eyes directly. Either he was the most naïve man she’d ever met, or he was extremely good at playing his farm boy role.

  “I saw a good movie last weekend.”

  She launched into a summary of the movie. He listened closely, nodding occasionally, but without asking any questions. She was wrapping up her analysis of the camera technique used in the action sequences when Josiah and Charlene emerged from the kitchen, both laughing.

  “Sorry to break up the couple time,” Josiah said. “But Charlie’s got something planned.”

  Charlie? She never let anyone call her by a nickname. But her friend didn’t seem irritated. Aimee shrugged. Charlene started handing out pencils and small slips of paper.

  “The game is called Two Truths and a Lie,” she said. “Everyone writes a true statement about themselves on two of the sheets of paper and an untrue one on the third, something you think even your best friend won’t know. Then we’ll put them together. I’ll read them one at a time, and we’ll guess whose statement it is and whether it’s true. Please print so I won’t know whose handwriting it is.”

  Aimee thought about what to write. She didn’t want to say anything that would hurt the image she was trying to portray. Charlene jotted hers quickly, while Frank and Josiah sat staring at the blank slips of paper. Finally Aimee printed her last answer, folded the slip, and handed it to Charlene.

  Charlene placed the slips in a bowl and with a flourish drew out the first one. “I’ll read it. Call out whether you think it’s a truth or a lie, and guess whose answer it is. ‘I celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday with a gondola ride in Venice.’”

  Josiah laughed. “Well, it sure isn’t Frank or me, so if it’s true, it must be one of you ladies. I’m thinking Charlene?”

  “Lie, Charlene?” Frank guessed.

  Charlene shook her head. “Not me. I’m saying truth, Aimee.”

  Aimee nodded. “Yes. A gondola ride and dinner at a restaurant just off Piazza San Marco. It was magical.” The only trip she and Tom had ever taken to Europe. She’d wished it would never end.

  “Okay. Next. ‘I’m afraid of frogs.’ That has to be one of you two, and I don’t think you’d make it up,” Charlene told the men. “Frank?”

  “Yep. He runs away whenever he sees one. We used to tease him with frogs whenever we went to the creek,” Josiah said.

  “Frogs? Seriously?” Aimee laughed.

  Frank’s ears turned pink, but he smiled with good humor. “Now you know my deep, dark secret. They’re so slimy, and they jump!”

  “Good thing we didn’t serve frogs’ legs,” Charlene teased, and Frank shuddered. “And anyway, that wasn’t a fair answer, since clearly your best friend did know. Next: ‘I once performed in a circus act.’”

  “Lie!” Aimee guessed.

  “Lie,” Frank agreed, and Charlene nodded.

  “Yep,” Josiah said. “Unless you count the backyard circus my sister and I staged. But I did dream of running away to the circus and becoming an acrobat.”

  “Can you juggle?” Charlene asked.

  “A little.”

  “You have to show us!”

  “Got any apples or oranges?”

  She fetched a handful of oranges, and Josiah began to juggle, first with three, then adding another orange. He ended by tossing an orange to each of them and catching the final orange behind his back. Charlene and Aimee applauded, and he took a bow.

  Charlene pulled out another slip of paper. “Ooh, this one’s good. ‘I once wrote a love poem on the blackboard for my teacher.’”

  “I’m guessing Josiah, truth,” Frank said. “I remember, from Miss Schmidt’s class. She was so embarrassed, and no one ever ‘fessed up. I should’ve known it was you!”

  “She was the prettiest teacher I’d ever seen,” Josiah admitted. “I thought we’d get married when I grew up. Hey, I was only eight!” he explained to Charlene and Aimee.

  “That one was too easy. Try this one: ‘I used to sneak into the kitchen at night and make myself marshmallow and banana sandwiches.’”

  “Truth, Aimee?” Josiah guessed.

  Aimee shook her head.

  “Lie?” Frank asked.

  “Nope. Truth,” Charlene admitted. “Marshmallow cream and sliced bananas on soft white bread was my favorite snack. Luckily my tastes have changed!”

  “Let me read one.” Josiah reached into the pile. “‘I’m afraid I won’t ever get married, because I won’t ever find someone who really loves me.’”

  The room went silent. Everyone avoided looking at anyone. After a moment, Charlene jumped to her feet. “I think we’ve done enough of that game. Anyone for a movie? I have a DVD collection in that cabinet,” she pointed to the lower compartment of her oak entertainment center, “or we can watch something online.”

  “A movie sounds great,” Frank agreed.

  “He likes movies about horses,” Aimee volunteered.

  The look he gave her said he suspected she was making fun of him, but she smiled to show she wasn’t. She was just paying attention to what he said. Josiah chose an old action flick, Charlene made popcorn, and they settled in
to watch the movie. After it ended, Frank and Josiah argued about what the hero should’ve done, while they all gathered the remnants of their snack and helped Charlene finish cleaning the kitchen.

  “Edwina’s due any minute,” Charlene said. “Aimee, why don’t you show Frank the view from my balcony?”

  “This way,” Aimee said and led Frank through the French doors onto the tiny balcony that gave an excellent view of the river and its reflected city lights.

  “Wow, it’s beautiful.”

  “If you look over there, you can see the arch, and that’s One Metropolitan Square,” she pointed out.

  “I can’t believe there are so many people, all in one place.”

  Aimee laughed. “You’ve never been to New York, have you?”

  “No. I’ve never traveled much of anywhere, but I’ve never missed it,” he answered. “I like where I live and what I do. I wish it didn’t all have to change.”

  “Why does it have to change?” Surely he wasn’t still playing the part of a soldier about to go off to war.

  “Everything changes,” he said. “You think your life’ll just go along on this slowly winding road, where you can almost see around the next bend, and then it jumps tracks, and somehow you’re on a roller coaster instead. Okay, that’s a jumbled image, but you know what I mean. Have you ever had a moment when your life jumped the tracks?”

  “Yes.” Her break-up with Tom was the most recent example.

  “What do you do afterwards?”

  “Buckle up and enjoy the ride, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure that’s good advice,” he said. “But what about those of us who hate roller coasters? That was my lie, in the game. ‘I love roller coasters.’ When I was little, my family went on vacation to visit my cousins in Memphis and rode a roller coaster at a park there.” He shuddered. “All the other kids loved it. I hated it.”

  “I’m not much on roller coasters, either,” Aimee admitted. Tom had often teased her about her fear of thrill rides. “But sometimes, buckling in for the ride’s our only choice, so we might as well try to enjoy it.”

  She was striving for a woman-of-the-world nonchalance that wouldn’t give away the almost crippling panic she sometimes felt at the thought of facing her future alone. Besides, it was true. Sometimes there wasn’t a choice, so you had to make the best of things or else curl up in a ball and refuse to come out from under the covers. An option she had seriously considered during the days after her breakup.

  “You’re braver than I am,” he said glumly.

  He stared out at the city lights. Aimee waited until he turned back to her. “You’ll manage, whatever it is. It can’t be as bad as a bucketful of frogs, right?”

  He stared at her for a second before he grinned. “You’re right. Whatever comes, I’ll just be thankful I’m not diving into a bucketful of frogs.”

  “I know it’s off the subject, but I’m supposed to tell you my view of marriage,” Aimee remembered suddenly. “I don’t have any deep revelations. To me, marriage is simply commitment. You make a promise, and you keep it. There’s no get-out-of-marriage free card.”

  “Get out of marriage free?” he frowned.

  “Like in Monopoly? The get out of jail free card?”

  “Oh.” He still looked slightly confused.

  Before Aimee could explain further, the door to the balcony opened, and Edwina stood framed in the doorway. “Having a good evening?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Aimee answered.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Frank told her. “You’re an amazing cook. And in case you wrote that last slip of paper, I believe you will find the love and marriage you’re seeking.” He clasped her hand briefly and then followed Edwina back inside.

  Aimee stayed watching the city lights for a few minutes before she went back inside. Charlene was alone, pouring herself a coffee. She held up the pot, and Aimee nodded. They sat on the sofa together, sipping the Vienna roast.

  “What do you think of Frank?” she asked Charlene.

  “He seems nice, but the aw-shucks routine’s getting a bit old. The better question is, what do you think of Frank? Are you planning to move to Phase 2 or ask for another match?”

  “I’m trying to decide. He’s nice, like you said. He’s also muscular. I know that’s shallow. I’ve always dated men who were more the artistic type.” Like Tom. “But when we were dancing, it felt nice to have someone so strong and fit twirl me around. Is it terribly un-PC of me to say it made me feel safe?”

  “Terribly,” Charlene said. “I think it’s a violation of section 41c of the Code of Politically Correctness.”

  Aimee smiled at the joke and then turned serious. “Frank’s so different from Tom. Tom was always concerned about his image. He didn’t want anyone to see him as anything other than a cultured, sophisticated world traveler. He thought it would help his career as a chef.”

  “And he always had to show he knew more than everyone else,” Charlene added. “I imagine sometimes he made you feel inferior.”

  “You don’t like him, do you?” Aimee realized. “What about Tish and Dana? Did they hate him too? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Hate’s a strong word. We weren’t fond of him, but as long as you cared about him, we could handle spending time with him. Small amounts, anyway,” she smiled. “What we couldn’t handle was his belittling you.”

  Aimee sighed. “I’m just starting to realize how much of a doormat I was. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. But Frank doesn’t do that.”

  “No, he doesn’t. So do you like him enough to keep dating him, or do you want to see who else is out there?”

  “I like him. I think I’d like to keep dating him, for a while, at least. It’s not like I’m committing to marrying him. I can spend more time with him, see how it goes.”

  Once she made the decision, Aimee felt surprisingly optimistic about it. She wasn’t sure Frank would turn out to be the love of her life, but spending time with a man who was so thoroughly unpretentious, someone who made her feel like the sophisticated one, would be a nice change.

  “What about you? Are you sticking with Josiah?” she asked.

  Charlene shook her head. “He’s a great guy, but there’s no romance there. We both agreed we need another match. I think Edwina put us together as supporting cast for you and Frank.”

  “Then your next match should be all about you. Hopefully it’ll be Mr. Right.”

  “Maybe.”

  Charlene began tidying up the slips of paper they’d used during their game. She picked up the paper Josiah had read. “‘I’m afraid I won’t ever get married, because I won’t ever find someone who really loves me.’ Truth, Charlene. But I didn’t write it.”

  “I didn’t either,” Aimee said.

  “So it was one of the guys. I wonder which?”

  “My guess would be Frank.”

  “Mine too. It takes guts for a guy to be that vulnerable.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  And it made Aimee feel more certain than ever in her decision. Frank was a good man. Her mother would approve. Although didn’t his final comment to her indicate he thought she might have written that slip, which would mean he didn’t? She shrugged. It didn’t really matter.

  As she drove back to her apartment, she wished she could go ahead and tell Edwina her decision. Monday was a long way off, and she wanted to let Edwina know what a good job she’d done in matchmaking. Frank was definitely a prospect and maybe even her future husband. A month ago, she’d never have been able to picture marrying anyone but Tom. Now, even though thoughts of marriage were still premature, she could at least consider the possibility that it might be in her future, that her husband might be Frank or another match she hadn’t met yet.

  “I do think I’ll get married, because I will find someone who really loves me,” she said aloud as she drove along the loop towards her apartment. “Truth. Aimee.”

  Chapter 5

  “Come in, have a s
eat,” Edwina invited.

  Aimee sank into the mauve leather chair across from Edwina’s desk. Today the older woman was dressed in a neat gray skirt with a pink starched blouse, and her hair was arranged in a knot on top of her head. She matched the illustration of a kindly schoolteacher Aimee had seen in a book she’d read as a child.

  “How did your dates with Frank go?”

  “Good, I think.” She waited for Edwina to ask, and when she didn’t, she added, “I’ve decided I’d like to move on to the second phase with Frank!”

  Edwina set down the pen she was holding and regarded Aimee with an expression of sympathy. “I’m glad to hear you were satisfied with your date, but unfortunately, I have to tell you Frank has asked for another match.”

  “He has?”

  For some reason, Aimee hadn’t even considered the possibility. She’d shown Frank she could cook. She’d proven she was a world traveler, sophisticated and cultured enough not to embarrass him. What went wrong?

  “I have some feedback on the dates, if you’d like to hear?”

  No. She would not like to hear. But with Edwina watching with her kind blue eyes, Aimee nodded. She would prove she was a mature, rational adult who could handle a little criticism. I won’t cry, she promised herself. No matter what he said.

  Edwina picked up a notepad. “Frank notes that he enjoyed the barn date dance very much. You were willing to participate in an unfamiliar activity, and you seemed to enjoy it. You had a good conversation, and at the end of the date, Frank was optimistic about the match. But on the second date, he says you cooked an excellent meal, which he appreciated, but he became aware of differences in your lifestyles and tastes.”

  “Differences in lifestyles and tastes?” Aimee frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Edwina set down the paper. “He feels that he can’t keep up with the travel and fine dining that you’re accustomed to, and he doesn’t want to try. He said you were too glamorous for him. He’s looking for someone more wholesome.”

  Glamorous? No one had ever used that adjective to describe her, and for a second, Aimee felt flattered. But then she remembered the word was used as part of a rejection, and her shoulders slumped. “Basically, he didn’t like me enough.”