by Tamie Dearen
Connie’s eyes sparkled. “But it seems like Emily and Spencer have hit if off instead, doesn’t it?”
“Well, not that I want to be an interfering mother—” Anne paused and then smirked. “Who am I kidding? I love being an interfering mother. I wonder if there’s anything we could do to spur the relationship along?”
“What about Emily? Do you think she likes Spencer?”
“I think she’s afraid of liking him. I think she’s afraid of liking anyone.”
“Why’s that?”
“She wants everything planned out, and she likes to control things. And I think she’s afraid to trust a guy. I’m really afraid Spencer will give up before she lets her defenses down.”
“He doesn’t really talk to me. Maybe the girls—I don’t know for sure. I might ask Grace what she thinks. Surely we’ll think of something.”
“Yes, we’ll have to think of something.”
Anne’s cell phone rang. “Hi, Steven.”
“Hey, Sweetheart. I’ve got news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Your first fan mail has started arriving. At least I assume that’s what it is. We have a stack of letters addressed to Mrs. Anne Gherring, care of Gherring Inc.”
“Seriously? Fan letters? What if it’s hate mail instead?”
“It’s possible, but not likely. Or it could even be people asking for money. But the HER Foundation told me they thought your interview would raise awareness. They expected some women to contact you. You can even refer them all to the foundation if you want. I want to screen them for you, though, just in case there are any nutcase letters.”
“Have there been any more articles in the tabloids?”
“No. Evidently, NYC Word doesn’t consider you newsworthy since you went mainstream.”
“I’m really glad it’s over,” said Anne.
“Yes, well... You know it’s not exactly over. The HER Foundation mentioned having you as a keynote speaker for a fundraiser.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m actually hoping my appeal will wear off before I have to do something like that.”
“We’ll see. But don’t count on it. You could work on writing a speech in all your spare time at home,” he teased.
“I’d like to do some real work. Surely there’s something I could do from home. I’m hoping I can go back to work in a week or two.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm? What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Just hmmm.”
“I think that’s short for I’m avoiding this subject. Don’t you need me at work?”
“Nope, not at all. Things are so much better without you here.”
“Steven!”
“What do you want me to say? Of course I miss you. We all do. But right now your health and the baby’s health are the priority.”
Anne let out a huge sigh. “I know, but I don’t feel useful.”
He chuckled. “When I come home tonight, I’ll feel you and see if you feel useful.”
“No thanks. I don’t need any help to know how I feel.”
“But I want to help.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Steven, you’re incorrigible.”
“Oh yes, I’m definitely encouragable.”
*****
Spencer’s heart was beating fast. He was simply planning to drop by Emily’s desk and have a casual conversation. But then he’d seen her. She’d worn her hair down today, and she was even more beautiful than before. He steeled his nerves and stopped beside her cubicle.
“Hey, Emily. Your hair looks nice. What’s the occasion? I’ve never seen you wear it down before.”
Two rosy patches appeared on her cheeks. “Uhmm, I don’t know. I just thought I’d try something different.”
“I didn’t even know you had curls. Or do you curl it? I never understand my sisters. They use curling irons and straightening irons. Sometimes they use both of them at the same time. Sometimes they use the straightening iron to curl their hair. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I’m too lazy to do all that. Mine’s always curly, so I put it in a braid most of the time. It’s easier to control.”
“Oh...” He suddenly felt tongue-tied. “Uhmm... I talked to my mom last night. She said your mother’s doing really well. I’m glad she’s better.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Uhmm, so... Are you going to be with your parents all night? I mean, if you finish early, you should call. I’m probably going to listen to some jazz tonight.” When she looked hesitant, he quickly added, “And Grace is going to come.”
Emily’s entire face turned red. “I’ll... I’ll probably be there all night.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. I understand.” Was she really going to be there all night? Or was she merely making up an excuse to avoid being with him. He was probably being too pushy again. “I just thought I’d let you know. I thought Grace would like it if you came.”
“But next time I’ll go.” She was tapping her fingers nervously on her desk. “I mean... I like jazz. So, you know...”
“Yeah. Okay. Next time.”
“Or who knows? Maybe I’ll get a wild hair and go on the hike.” She kept her gaze fastened to her hands.
“The long hike this weekend? The one with the overnight camping trip?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about the camping thing. Maybe next time.” She glanced up with a shaky smile.
“Sure. Next time. See ya later.”
He pondered Emily as he returned to his desk. She was definitely acting awkward. Was it because of what Grace had told her about Becca’s phone calls? He tried to think of some casual way to let her know the truth. Well, the truth about Becca. He didn’t want her to know he’d never actually dated any girls before—she’d think he was a geek.
His phone vibrated with another message from Becca. She’d already sent three texts that day. What this time?
Found a new drink to try tonight. Slippery Nipple. LOL!
Why would she send him a text like that? The girl was certifiable. He turned his phone off and tried to concentrate on work and ignore his headache. And his heartache.
*****
Emily couldn’t decide what to wear to her date—no, her meeting—with Asher Denning. It wasn’t a date according to strict interpretation of the Best Dating Rules. She’d planned to dress casually until Becca suggested wearing a dress.
She’d avoided talking to Charlie about it, suspecting her sister might disapprove. But after pulling almost everything she owned out of the closet, she gave up and called her.
“Hey, Sister,” Charlie answered. “It’s about time you called. I’ve called twice this week, and you didn’t call back.”
“I know, I know. I’ve been... busy. But, I need clothes advice for tonight. Can you Skype with me?”
“Sure. Give me a few seconds.”
They connected on Skype, and Charlie appeared on the screen, her curly hair tucked up in its usual baseball cap. “You must be desperate to be asking me for advice on what to wear.” Charlie chuckled. “You usually scoff at my wardrobe.”
“That’s not true. You have great taste in clothes, but you usually choose not to wear your cute things and dress like a guy instead.”
“Yes. That’s because I like to shock people when I actually dress up. So what’s the deal tonight?”
“I’m going to get coffee with my new art teacher. We’re gonna talk about my options. He thinks this class may be too elementary for me.”
“And you couldn’t have talked about this after class? And you’re worried about what to wear. Let me guess. This isn’t a fifty-year-old, fat, bald guy. Is it?”
“No. He’s thirty two and really good-looking. Blond. Weight lifter. English accent. But it’s not a date. We’re meeting at the coffee place, and I’m planning to buy my own drink.”
“So, you’ve decided to start dating, and you’re not giving Spencer the first shot?”
She
’d known Charlie would react like this. “It’s not a date. I told you—”
“I know what you said. But, you’re wearing your hair down, and that look on your face tells me you might let him kiss you if he tried.”
She felt heat rising in her face. “I would not!”
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Whatever you say. Tell me about the place you’re going. And what are my clothing options?”
Emily picked up the computer and pointed it toward the bed littered with clothes.
“Ohmygosh! That’s everything you own.” She sighed. “Pants, shorts, dress?”
“Well, Becca said I should wear a dress to this place.”
“Becca?”
“Yes. That’s one of the girls from the hiking trip. You know—Betty Boobs?”
“And you’re taking advice from her?”
“No, I’m asking for your advice.”
“Okay. I wouldn’t go really dressy. Why don’t you wear a skirt and a blouse?”
“This one?” Emily held up one of her black linen work skirts.
“No. Wear something short. You might as well show off your legs. Yeah, that one.”
“I have to be careful how I sit in this one. It’s really short.”
“But it’s tight. If they’re short and loose, you have to worry about the wind catching them.”
“Okay. And the blouse?”
“Wear that black one with the ruffles.”
“You don’t think it’s too low cut?”
“No, it’s not even as low cut as what most people wear to work. It’s seems low cut to you because you’re not used to it. And wear a necklace, you know, the black one with the dangly chains. It’s not too flashy.”
“Heels or flats?”
“Is he tall?”
“Probably six feet tall.”
“Are you walking from the subway?”
“I’m taking a taxi.”
“Definitely heels,” she said. “But Emily—one more thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t let this guy hurt you. Okay?”
“I told you—”
“I know what you said, but I can tell you’re hot for him.”
“Even if I did decide to date him, I don’t think he’d hurt me. He’s older, more mature. I don’t think he’d be into playing games like that.”
“Sister, trust me. I know from experience older guys can play games right along with the rest of them. They have more years of practice at doing it.”
“What do you mean? Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Instantly she masked the emotion on her face. “Nope. I’m simply giving you some sisterly advice.”
“Okay, thanks for the help.” Emily smiled. “Love you, Sister.”
“You, too.”
Emily arrived ten minutes early to the Green Scene. She was surprised to find it looked much more like a club than a coffee bar. She found a small table on the far side and sat in a chair where she could watch the door. There was a jazz band setting up to play, so she tried not to sit too close to the stage. She wanted to be able to talk to Asher without yelling. She ordered a café mocha from the waitress, feeling relieved she’d be able to pay for her own drink as she planned. She drummed her fingers nervously on the table while she waited for Asher Denning to make his appearance.
“Hey, Emily. What are you doing here?” Emily looked up in surprise to see Grace standing beside her table, looking anxiously over her shoulder.
“Hi Grace. I, uhmm... What are you doing here?”
“Spencer told me you were having dinner with your mom and stepdad tonight. What happened? Why are you here?”
“Spencer? Uhmm... I had a change of plans. But don’t tell—”
“Hullo, Emily. You look smashing!” Asher Denning slipped into the chair beside her. He had on a tight black t-shirt that accentuated the bulge of his muscles and contrasted with his blond hair. “Have you been here long?” He glanced up, recognizing Grace, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hullo! Grace, my love, you won’t let on to the rest of the class we were here together. Will you, love? Why don’t you sit down and join us? We’re just having a little chin wag.”
Emily’s cheeks were burning, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She turned pleading eyes to Grace, whose face was blanched. “Grace, I can explain. But don’t tell Spencer.” She tried to keep her voice low enough Asher couldn’t hear as he waved down a waitress.
“Spencer’s here,” whispered Grace, throwing frantic glances behind her.
“He’s here?” Emily slunk down. “Where?”
“Hey, Grace,” she heard Spencer’s voice. “We’ve got a table over here. Who’re you talking to?”
Spencer’s smiling face appeared over Grace’s shoulder as she spun around quickly and tried to herd him back toward their table. But Spencer stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on Emily. At first he brightened with a smile and opened his mouth to speak to her. But then his face fell as he glanced from her to Asher Denning and back again. She cringed while he took in the low cut of her blouse and the lip-gloss she’d added at the last minute. He nodded his head in her direction.
“Hi, Emily.” His lips pressed firmly together. He turned and began making his way toward the door.
“Wait, Spencer,” called Grace as she tried to catch her brother.
Emily sat in stunned silence. She didn’t get up and chase him out the door. There was no point. What could she say? She really had no defense. She was a worm—lower than a worm—worm excrement. She’d seen the hurt in his eyes, and she knew she was solely responsible for that pain. She’d made up excuses to justify her behavior, but none of it changed the lie she’d told to Spencer.
“Hullo, love. Did Grace leave?”
She swallowed, but couldn’t manage to speak. She struggled to hold back tears as she nodded at Asher.
He flashed her his million dollar smile and leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, his biceps flexing as he moved. “Did I tell you how smashing you look?” he asked with hooded eyes. “What type of bevvy did you get?”
“It’s a mocha.” Emily managed to spit the words out.
“Coffee? Oh yes, I did ask you out for coffee, didn’t I? I hope you don’t mind I got a pint of lager, instead.” The band started playing, and Asher slid his chair closer to Emily’s, turning it to face the band.
The waitress returned with his beer and managed to rub most of her upper body against him while placing it on the table. He rewarded her efforts with a wink, smiling at the astonished expression on Emily’s face. “She’s a friendly sort, that one.”
Emily stiffened when he placed his arm around the back of her chair. But he didn’t actually touch her, so she relaxed and tried to concentrate on the music, asking herself why on earth she’d agreed to come.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he leaned his head in close and said, “You know, you really do have an amazing talent with watercolor. That truly is why I asked you to come.”
She warmed at his praise, but only managed to murmur, “Thanks.”
“I speak truly. I’m well chuffed with your work. Quite extraordinary for your age. How old are you?”
“Twenty four.”
“Blinding!” he said with a warm smile. “I’ve found there are plenty of fit girls in New York. But talent—real talent—that’s hard to come by. Finding them together is extraordinary.” He gave her shoulder a casual squeeze and left his hand there.
The hand remained unmoving on her shoulder until the next song was finished and he pulled it down to clap for the band. “Are you enjoying the music? This group has talent and a quarter. Can I buy you another beverage?” he asked as he flagged down the waitress. “How about a glass of wine? You seem like a red wine girl to me.”
“I am,” she admitted. “Sometimes, but not tonight. I’ll stick with coffee.”
Undeterred, he ordered another beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. “You seem a b
it stressed. You need a glass of wine, not more coffee. Relax! You’ll suppress your talent if you stay uptight.” He put his arm back around her but his hand never strayed past her shoulder.
When another couple strolled past he haled them to the table. “This is Rachel and Travis, friends of mine, newlyweds actually. They’re both teachers. And this is Emily Best, my most promising student.” He had the grace to add, “I’m afraid I’m not responsible for her talent as she’s only attended a solitary class.” Emily smiled at the friendly-looking couple, but inside she was still tormented over the memory of Spencer’s hurt expression.
“So you’re an artist?” asked Rachel, her bright eyes framed with spirally curls and a genuine smile.
Emily endeavored to control her growing despondency; she couldn’t be rude to such a sweet girl. “No, I’m an accountant, really. Art is a hobby.”
“But she has amazing talent. You should see the things these hands can do.” Asher reached across the table. She watched dispassionately as he lifted her hand to press his lips against it. She realized with shock she felt no tingle whatsoever from his touch, nothing like the sensations she fought against when Spencer touched her.
“How long have you been dating?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, we’re not dating,” Emily protested.
“This is our first date,” Asher corrected, “but hopefully not the last.”
“Well, I hope you’ll be as lucky as we are,” declared Rachel, as she glanced adoringly at her handsome husband who returned the look.”
Watching the happy couple interact only plunged Emily further into dejection. The glass of wine beckoned and she gave in to the temptation to take a few sips. A few sips gradually morphed into an entire glass. The resulting numbing effect allowed her to focus on the music and conversation rather than thinking about her earlier confrontation with Spencer. Then his face flashed into her mind and she plunged back into her depressed state. In desperation, she stepped into the ladies room to call Charlie, but her sister didn’t answer the phone. She left a pitiful message, begging her to call back.
