Anything For Love

by Janelle Taylor

  “I still have to watch what I eat and have to exercise regularly. I don’t play around all year, only during certain seasons when I have special goals to achieve or to maintain.”

  Those provocative words could be taken several ways, Mr. Rawls. “Here comes our waiter to check on dessert.” Lordy, you’re the only treat I crave. Right about now, I could eat you with a spoon and savor every morsel. You’re just too tempting. I wonder why you didn’t answer my earlier question and why you haven’t mentioned anything about our affair years ago. You asked about me but you cunningly sidestep queries about you. Any flirting you’ve done has been subtle. What’s going on inside that handsome head? Are you leading me on for spite, testing the waters for another affair, or only after friendship this time? I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s a mysterious air about you, as if you have an unknown motive for being here.

  Quentin finished speaking with the waiter, who left to compile their bill. “That was a fine meal, Rachel, but wait until you taste my offering.”

  “I can hardly wait. Don’t forget to give me your shopping list.”

  “That won’t be necessary; I’ll take care of everything tomorrow night, even wash the dishes. It’s the least I can do to repay your hospitality.”

  “In that case, there’s a grocery store up the road. Surprise me.”

  “I hope I will. Ready?” he asked after the waiter returned with his change. Quentin left a tip and assisted her with her chair.

  Do you always pay with cash to avoid using a credit card and revealing your identity? Don’t you know your face is well known from television and magazine ads? She thanked him as he opened the car door for her.

  As he fastened his seat belt, he remarked in a casual tone, “Maybe you can show me those nightspots before I leave town.”

  Rachel laughed. “I’m not much into them but I’ll try to help out. I’ll check with one of my friends to see which places are the best.”

  He watched for an opening in the flow of traffic, then pulled into the center turning lane. “More the country club set, huh?”

  “When I go out, I guess so. I know the people there and I usually accompany friends; being a single, it makes for a nicer evening. I also attend many of the cultural functions.”

  “I imagine your friends do like mine, play cupid all the time. Everybody seems to have an available sister or a friend of his girlfriend who needs a date, and you’re a third or fifth wheel for the evening if you refuse to escort her.” He turned on to Stevens Creek Road. “Heaven spare us from countless good intentions, more blind dates, and those required companions for social and business occasions.”

  “It sounds as if you’ve had experiences similar to mine. I suppose it’s because it’s a couple’s world after one reaches a certain age.”

  He crossed Riverwatch Parkway. “Don’t you think the dating game gets harder as you get older or after you’ve been out of circulation?”

  “Definitely. Times and conduct can change hugely but certain people—like me—have a tendency to remain much the same in our thinking. It’s like diving into muddy water where everything gets obscured. You don’t quite know where you fit into the big picture anymore.”

  He glanced at her. “That describes our predicament perfectly; you’re good with drawing word pictures. Maybe you should consider getting into advertising or promotions; sounds as if you’d be a whiz at them. Actually, I think you’d be successful at anything you decided to do. You’re easy to talk to and be with and you’re a real lady, Rachel.”

  “Those are very nice compliments and I appreciate them.”

  Soon, Quentin pulled into her driveway. At her door, he said, “Good night, Rachel; thanks for another wonderful day. I’ll see you at six tomorrow evening. Diet at breakfast and lunch so you can indulge at supper.”

  She laughed and asked, “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want me to do?”

  “Nope, just be here and be yourself. Good night.”

  Rachel watched him walk to the car, get inside, and start the engine. She waved, closed the door, and leaned against it to take a deep breath to steady her trembling. “Oh, my, three dates in three days,” Rachel murmured, “and you didn’t even kiss me goodnight, Quentin. Are you being wary or only trying not to press me too soon? At least we’re getting better acquainted before we get intimate, and without deceptions this time, maybe. I want to trust you, but I feel as if you’re hiding something from me. I wonder how you’ll behave tomorrow night when we’re alone. Lordy, woman, how are you going to act if he gets romantic?”

  Six

  At Formosa’s Chinese Restaurant on Wednesday, Becky coaxed, “Tell us everything, Rach; you hardly gave us a clue on the phone.”

  Since no one was sitting in the booths on either side of them, Rachel said, “That’s because you both were with your husbands. I hope you two haven’t told them about us so they won’t tease me when I see them.”

  Jen tapped her lips and said, “We’ve kept mum so far, but it won’t be a secret for much longer if you keep dating him every day and night.”

  “This will be only the third time I’ve seen him since the reunion.”

  “But this makes three days in a row; that’s promising, Rach.”

  “We’re only friends.”

  “Friends first, then…who knows? You’re having dinner alone tonight; things could get cozy. He sounds terrific; go for it, Rach.”

  “I doubt he’s looking for romance or a commitment at this point in his life. He’s been burned twice and he’s in the midst of a career upheaval. You know men don’t think about romance when they’re under pressure or distracted. Besides, he’s years younger than I am, and he’ll want children when he settles down. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any, and I can’t.”

  To cleverly point out her friend wasn’t interested in other men, only in Quentin, Becky said, “Well, you still have lots of choices around here.”

  “Not any good ones, at least for a serious relationship.”

  “I hope you aren’t giving up on men and marriage.”

  “No, Jen, just waiting around for good ones.”

  “If Quentin’s still in town, and I bet he will be, bring him to my party with you on Saturday. Let him get to know your friends. We surely want a closer look at him to see if he’s good enough for you.”

  “Imagine everyone’s reaction if I showed up with Quentin as my date, especially after he was with Carrie Simmons at the reunion. That doesn’t bother me and I have nothing against her, but some of the others appear to still think badly of her. Gossip will fly.”

  “No one would dare talk about you at my house, Rach.”

  “They would the moment they left; rumors would spread like crazy. Janet and others would be calling me and asking all kinds of questions. I don’t want to be put on the hot seat over nothing. After Janet worked on him at the party, he would run just to avoid that bitch and her wicked tongue. Or he’d tell her off and move me higher on her blacklist; she gives me enough fits as it is.”

  “Don’t let Janet and her kind spoil this chance for happiness. Besides, she and Cliff will be out of town from Saturday morning until Tuesday, so they aren’t coming; and Dianne hasn’t RSVP’d yet, so maybe she and Greg won’t be there. If they are, shell behave without Janet’s influence. I had no choice except to invite them, but don’t let them spoil your relationship.”

  “We aren’t having a relationship; we’re only friends.” This time.

  “You could be more if you put your mind and energy to work on it. For heaven’s sake, Rach, how often does a fine specimen like him come along? He’s the first, and maybe the last, man since Daniel to give you a nice jolt. Don’t tell me he doesn’t send tingles up your spine because it won’t be true. You like him and you’re attracted to him; I can tell.”

  “I admit you’re right about being charmed by him, and I’m positive that most women are. But even if he suited me perfectly, this is too soon and too sudden. I don’t want to
get too close too fast, in case he isn’t interested in me. Quentin and I are having fun together, but it isn’t serious and he’ll be gone soon.”

  “Maybe and maybe not. He certainly seems interested, so don’t panic and scare him off. Even if nothing serious does come from it, you can have a lot of fun with him. Bring him along, Rach, please. The boys will have a great time talking with him; they all love football.”

  “I’m not sure Quentin wants to discuss his career; it’s rocky right now. He also might not want to be included in a sort of meet-my-family gathering. I don’t want it to look as if I’m chasing him.”

  “Just think about inviting him. Okay?”

  “I will. I’ll let you know if he’s coming. Satisfied?”

  Becky grinned and nodded. “Positively.”

  As they ate their lunches, they discussed their bridge and club meetings the following day and more collections for the Georgia flood victims.

  Afterward, while standing at the cashier’s counter, Janet and other women arrived, but Dianne wasn’t with them.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” the redhead murmured. “I thought you were too busy with your projects to have leisure time, Rachel.”

  Rachel smiled and quipped in an innocently playful tone, “It was difficult, Janet, but I stole an hour from my hectic schedule to eat so I would have the energy to work this afternoon.”

  Becky laughed and fibbed, “We had to drag her away from the house and force her to take a break; she’s earned one. Rachel is just too generous and determined to help others, and she gets herself overbooked.”

  “She didn’t have any trouble turning down the woman’s club dire need of her. Dianne and I explained our dilemma and practically begged her to help us with our new project, but she refused.”

  “Only this one time, Janet, and I explained why I couldn’t do it.”

  Jen noticeably checked her watch and assisted her friend out of a tight spot. “Don’t forget you’re expecting a call at two, Rachel, so we have to hustle to get you home as promised. We’ll see you all tomorrow. ‘Bye.”

  Farewells were exchanged and the three friends left the restaurant. After Rachel thanked Becky and Jen for their fibs, they had a delightful time running errands together until four o’clock.

  Rachel glanced around the house; thanks to Martha’s visit today, it was spotless and smelled fresh. She was wearing a green shorts outfit and sandals so she’d be cool outside while cooking on the grill; and she didn’t want to appear to be overdressed for a simple meal at home. When the doorbell chimed, she let Quentin inside the extended foyer which was lighted by an ornate Italian hanging fixture. “This way, Chef Rawls.” She smiled and directed him ahead as he carried two grocery sacks.

  Quentin was impressed by a wide Florida tiled walkway that divided two sitting areas of an enormous oblong room into a formal one with a fireplace to his right and a casual one to his left. Interested in the way she lived, he paid close attention to details. The furnishings were a blend of traditional and neoclassical; the casual sofa and chair were in shades of turquoise, mauve, tan, cream, blue, and green; the formal sofa was tan with turquoise fringe, and one chair was a Louis IV with an antiqued white finish. Loose swag drapes were floral on a white background and laced through architectural brackets below radius fanlight windows. The twelve-foot ceiling was accented by thick and deep moldings.

  On either side of the huge arch into the hallway were topiaries on a salmon-colored wall: trompe l’oeil handpaintings. He saw silk trees and flowers in decorative urns and bowls, several glass-topped tables with beveled edges, and wellchosen art pieces. He noticed that double French doors opened into a large formal dining room on the right side. In the hallway, he walked on a shiny pickled hardwood floor. To his right, there was another French door leading into the dining room for serving meals, perfectly positioned as it was across from the kitchen door on the left. The daylight was sufficient enough that he could make out wisteria wallpaper with matching swags over white rods with floraltipped finials in lavender and green. The contemporary furniture was in burled walnut wood. The room was decorated splendidly. Before entering the kitchen, he looked up a staircase, one with a faux marbleized handrailing that led to the second story.

  Quentin set his packages on a white counter in an immaculate room that gave him the feeling of airy spaciousness. No small appliances or foods were in view, only decorative objects here and there before white tiles with handpainted flowers, dragonflies, and butterflies.-The large appliances were white, as was the woodwork; the floor tile was rose bisque with matching grout. Through a square opening with a row of small windows over it was the breakfast area, a lovely and uncluttered room with a garden theme. To its left and through French doors with paned windows beside and above them was a Florida room with four tall windows on all three sides for lovely views of her front, side, and back yards. “You have good taste, Rachel,” he commented following his appraisal, “this is lovely and looks comfortable.”

  “Thank you, Quentin; I enjoy it. The problem is, with the children gone, it seems awfully big for one person.”

  “To clean, to manage, to afford or just to roam around in?”

  Rachel laughed as she unpacked his purchases. “All of those things.”

  “Do you keep it this spotless or do you have a hidden maid?”

  “I have a housekeeper once a week; she’s been with me for twenty years. I thought I mentioned Martha and her son, my gardener, to you.”

  “You did. Some people have maids every day and still can’t keep their homes clean and neat. Messy surroundings don’t appeal to me.”

  “It’s easy when you live by yourself; impossible with young children around. If you give them the time they need, they can be full-time jobs.”

  “I would imagine so; I guess that’s something I’ll learn someday. After I get these chops to marinating and get the grill to heating, you can show me around. Maybe I’ll get some ideas to use at my place. I’m beginning to renovate and redecorate before Christmas.”

  “I don’t envy you; those are big and frustrating tasks.”

  “That’s why I’m hoping to get the work done while I’m away on road trips. I’ve heard it can be hellish if you’re at home.”

  “Two friends of mine would agree with you. Looking around for ideas is the best way to decide what you might want. Now, what can I get for you?”

  “A deep, square dish and a fork, for starters. I’ll wash up first.”

  “Wonderful, a man with good habits; I see that your mother trained you well.” He grinned and nodded. “The soap dispenser is on the sink; paper towels are there under the top cabinet to the right.” She put out the requested items and asked, “What else?”

  “You can put the wine in the refrigerator. I need a large bowl and a knife for the broccoli, and aluminum foil for the potatoes. Set the oven for four hundred degrees, bake. Do you have a steamer for that microwave?”

  Rachel nodded, set the oven to preheat, and retrieved the item he requested. She held out an apron to protect his clothing. “What else?”

  As he tied on the apron, he said, “That’s everything for now.”

  “Surely there’s something more I can do to help.”

  Quentin smiled. “Just keep me company.” He prepared the meat and set the dish in the refrigerator. He rinsed the broccoli and placed it on a paper towel to drain while he washed the potatoes and wrapped them.

  Rachel leaned against the center island and watched him work skillfully. He was wearing casual brown slacks, brown shoes, and a brown-andwhite striped golf shirt. He was so masculine and attractive that she warmed from head to feet. His back was broad, his waist was narrow, and his legs were long on his over six-foot frame. As if sensing her study, he glanced at her and grinned.

  His blue eyes almost twinkled with mischief. “Did you think I was kidding about treating you tonight and knowing how to do this?”

  “No, I believed you. It truly is a treat to have some
body pamper you. I like a man who knows his way around a kitchen, around a house. It’s amazing in these days that so many men don’t, and won’t try to learn.”

  He sent her a smile, which she returned. “A woman like you deserves to be pampered; I’ll enjoy being the one to do it tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Don’t get cozy yet; I need to know more about you. “I forgot during our tours that you’re originally from Georgia. I hope I didn’t bore you chattering on about our state like you’re a stranger to it.”

  “I lived a long way from here and I’m not familiar with this area. Too, I’ve been gone since I left for college in ‘74, except for visits home. I enjoyed learning about the…CSRA, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right; you’re a good listener. So you live in Texas now.”

  “Yep, southwest of Dallas, on a small but working ranch.”

  “Tell me about your hometown and family. You already know about mine. I’ve never been to Colquitt or spent any time in that area of Georgia.”

  “History and geography were two of my best subjects, so you’re in luck,” he said with a grin. “Colquitt has a population of about two thousand; Miller County has around sixty-three hundred; it’s the only town in the entire county. It’s small, rural, old, and nice; everybody knows everybody and most of ‘em are friends. It’s kind of coincidental that our county was named for Andrew Jackson Miller of Augusta; he was a state representative and a senator. At his death, he was President of the Medical College, City Attorney, and Director of Georgia Railroad Bank all here in Augusta. How about those facts, Mrs. Gaines?”

  “That’s interesting, quite a connection between our towns.” But I doubt your liking of history and geography and that coincidence explains your unusual interest in Augusta. “Are there lots of Rawlses there?”

  “W. H. Rawls was a Colquitt councilman and our mayor in the fifties, but he isn’t any kin to my family. The rest of our kinfolk live in Kentucky. We have family reunions every few years; I missed the last two, but I hope to make the next one in ‘96. If I don’t, my parents will chase me down with a switch. You remember those, right? Switches, not family reunions.”