by M. Ullrich
❖
“I was driving along at a painfully slow pace, and all it took was a small patch of ice to send me right into the side of your car. It happened in slow motion. Literally! I could have gotten out of my car, taken a picture of the impending doom, and gotten back in before impact. But I couldn’t stop it.”
Catherine realized she truly enjoyed listening to this woman talk, but she enjoyed watching her even more. She felt hypnotized by her face, her smile, the expressions she made with each word and the little things she did with her hands and fingers in order to express herself fully.
“So I waited around for a little bit, but you never showed up. I figured a note was a fool-proof plan. I guess I never took my terrible handwriting into consideration, though.” Imogene’s small smirk was playful, but Catherine still received the message.
“I suppose it’s my turn to apologize?” Catherine shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry for that comment, and I’m very sorry for my behavior at the party. I had no idea you were close with Sophia, but that doesn’t make what I said okay. I can be very opinionated sometimes, especially when I’m outside of my comfort zone.”
“Something tells me it’s not very difficult to find yourself outside your comfort zone.” Imogene swallowed the last little bit of cold coffee at the bottom of her mug.
“I concede.” Catherine tipped her head.
“Listen, Cat, I—”
“Catherine. It’s Catherine.” She saw Imogene’s chagrined expression and felt the need to add, “Only Alice and Dennis get away with that nickname.” Her explanation didn’t prevent some awkwardness. How did we get so personal so quickly? she wondered.
“I get it,” Imogene said. “Only my grandfather was allowed to call me Immy.”
Catherine smiled warmly at the thought of a boisterous, young Imogene running amok with a head full of fiery red waves, being scolded by an older man for doing something she had been told not to so many times.
“Catherine, I think we should put everything behind us and move forward. I do believe we are here for a consultation.”
“I was here for the pot roast, but I suppose you’re right.” Happy to see Imogene smile, Catherine broached the subject she knew she’d be much more comfortable with. “Tell me about your financial situation.”
“I’m not really sure where to start.”
“I usually recommend the beginning,” Catherine said with a lopsided smile.
Imogene shook her head and took a deep breath. “I own a boutique on Washington Street.”
“Name?”
“Cowboy Fran’s.”
“What do you sell?” Catherine questioned quickly.
“Would you like for me to tell you about my situation, or would you prefer to interview me?”
“I’m sorry.” Catherine sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Please, continue.” She encouraged Imogene with a slight flourish of her hand before covering her troublesome mouth with three fingers.
“My boutique is my greatest investment and my life. That’s where my money went before, and that’s exactly where I plan on putting it now.” The certainty with which Imogene delivered her words clued Catherine in to just how much of this meeting was actually Imogene’s idea. “I have been successful thus far, so I’m really not looking to fix something that isn’t broken.” She doesn’t need me.
“If you don’t mind me asking, this meeting wasn’t your idea, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Imogene smiled abashedly.
“Whose was it?”
“Sophia’s,” Imogene admitted.
“I should’ve known,” Catherine replied quietly. After listening to Imogene reason away the need for help and considering her already packed client list, Catherine was ready to dismiss the whole case and wish Imogene the best of luck. Just as she started to push her chair from the table, Imogene came to her friend’s defense.
“She’s my best friend, and she just wanted to make sure I handled my inheritance cautiously.”
“That’s right,” Catherine said. “When Alice told me about a potential client, she mentioned a hefty inheritance.”
“I’m sure it’s not hefty compared to what you deal with daily. Do you even speak to clients with under a million? A little over eight hundred thousand dollars is probably chump change to you.” Imogene laughed at her own joke, and Catherine froze. She looked to a smiling Imogene with narrowed dark eyes.
“A little over?”
“Well, most came from multiple accounts and his property, but there’s more in a few stocks he’d invested in decades ago. I’m no stocks expert but, yeah, I think it all puts me somewhere between eight hundred and nine hundred thousand.” A simple shrug punctuated Imogene’s rapid and casual calculations.
“Wait here.” Catherine rushed from the room, returning a moment later with her jacket and a business card in her hand. “Call my office Monday morning. It was nice seeing you again.” With that, Catherine left.
Imogene remained seated, running her fingertips over the raised letters on the small card. Catherine Carter. Bold, black lettered, and in the palm of her hand. The quiet authority the other woman exuded had pushed Imogene from knowing she didn’t need financial help to feeling she couldn’t go on another day without it. How did she do that? Imogene thought as she sat stunned. She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that wondered if she wanted Catherine’s help or Catherine herself.
Chapter Six
Imogene spent her weekend struggling with what to do next. It wasn’t until her weekly phone call with her mother Sunday evening that Imogene made her final decision.
“How’s my daughter?” Dorothy Harris asked in a tone that held genuine concern.
“I’m fine, Mom, just very busy with the shop lately. The spring collections come in earlier and earlier every year. I feel silly unpacking short-sleeved blouses when it’s below freezing outside.” She looked out her small bedroom window to check on the snow that had yet to stop falling.
“Have you managed a date anytime recently?” Straight to the point, as usual.
“No, Mom, I haven’t.” Imogene barely held in her exasperated sigh. Every week, every conversation was the same.
“Are you at least trying?”
“Of course I’m trying!” This time, she let her annoyance show. “I just haven’t met anyone worth my time since Aria and I split.” She removed her heavy sweater and threw on a thin sleep shirt.
“That was over a year ago, sweetheart. You’re so kind and beautiful, I find it hard to believe that it’s so difficult for you to find someone.”
“And we were together for four. It takes time to heal, I haven’t been ready.” Her jeans were next, quickly replaced by soft cotton shorts. It may have been the arctic tundra outside, but her apartment got a little too warm in the peak hours of the night.
“Believe me, I know that.” Dorothy didn’t have to speak specifically of the loss she and her daughter shared. “I just want to see you happy.”
Imogene listened carefully and heard the sadness, the slight pity each of her mother’s words held. She was alone, not lonely, but the difference didn’t mean a thing to Mrs. Harris.
“If I told you that there may be someone, but it’s too early to tell, would that satisfy you for now?” Imogene asked playfully. Nevertheless, she winced at the mere mention of her possible future advisor. You’ll say anything to get your mother off your back, won’t you?
“For now.” Dorothy’s response was flat. “I’d feel better if you’d tell me a bit about her.”
“It’s too soon, but you’ll be the first to know if something develops.”
“Why do you insist on lying to me? We both know Sophia will hear everything first. Your poor mother will always be in second place.” She spoke in defeat, an overexaggerated melancholy echoing with each word she spoke.
“Your guilt won’t work this time.” Imogene smiled at the playful sigh she received in response.
“Fin
e. I’ll try harder next time.”
“Good night, Mom.”
“I love you, Imogene.”
“Love you, too.”
Imogene sat on the edge of her bed and wondered if what she had told her mother was true. Was something there? A hidden potential between her and Catherine Carter? Despite their rocky start, could it be more than a mild flirtation? There’s only one way to find out, Imogene thought as she threw herself back into a pile of pillows.
When Monday morning rolled around, Imogene sat at the front counter of Cowboy Fran’s and held the phone in her hand. It took a few pep talks, but she finally dialed Catherine’s number.
“Catherine Carter’s office, this is Vivian speaking. How may I help you?” Imogene shouldn’t have been surprised when the phone was answered on the first ring, but she still was.
“I was actually looking to speak with Catherine.”
“May I ask who is calling?”
“Imogene Harris.” For the tenth time that morning, she had started to doubt her decision.
“Ms. Harris, I was told you may be calling this morning. Ms. Carter is in a meeting, let me see if I can interrupt.” Imogene was put on hold before she had the chance to insist Vivian do no such thing. Monotonous instrumental music filled her ear. She must have been on hold for close to five minutes, apologizing to each customer who needed help and only received half of Imogene’s attention, before the line came to life once again.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to call.” Catherine’s smooth voice replaced the music with a melody all its own.
“I wasn’t either. I hope I made the right decision.” Imogene grimaced when she heard just how low she let her voice drop. Not even a minute in, and I’m already flirting with this woman! The effect that Catherine had on her was immediate and unsettling, but Imogene felt possessed. She listened as a quiet rustling sound filled her ear.
“Would I sound narcissistic if I told you it’s the best decision you’ll make all day?” Catherine’s tone conveyed a smile.
“Only a little.” Imogene giggled.
“Good. I don’t want my true colors to be showing just yet. Dammit.”
“Are you okay?” Although they were speaking over the phone, Imogene shifted uncomfortably after Catherine’s odd, gentle outburst.
“Yeah.” Catherine’s warm laughter traveled through the phone and straight into Imogene’s chest, where her heart picked up its pace. “I wore wool pants today.”
This small, intimate detail caused Imogene’s smile to grow wider. She twirled a thick lock of her hair around her fingertip several times before speaking. “Itchy?”
“Unbelievably so. I knew I pushed them to the back of my closet for a reason.”
“I bet they look fantastic, though.” A beat of silence passed before Imogene realized what she had said and not just thought. Imogene held her breath. When a response didn’t come, she added, “Because wool always looks classy.” She slapped her forehead and hoped the sound of skin on skin wasn’t audible to Catherine.
“Classy, yes. Comfortable? No. They’re slim fitting, too.” Catherine’s tone had changed slightly and if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn Catherine was egging her on, but before Imogene could match flirtation for flirtation, Catherine continued. “Do you think you can come by my office today? I’d like to go over a few ideas with you and get a feel for your business.” Her tone was neutral, and her professionalism was back in place.
“Where is it?” As many times as Imogene had looked over the business card over the weekend, she’d never noticed anything beyond the name and phone number embossed on it.
“Lower Manhattan, not too far from Wall Street.”
An icy chill ran down Imogene’s spine at the mention of such an address. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by the office’s location, but it caught her unaware. “I can’t,” she quickly choked out. “I have to be at the shop all day.”
“Okay.” Catherine paused as if she were expecting more of an explanation. When Imogene didn’t offer one, she asked, “What time are you there until?”
“We close at nine.” She answered automatically, still fighting against the nausea and anxiety gripping her gut tightly.
“Do you mind if I come to you, then? I’d like to get started as soon as possible. I can be there by six.”
“That’s fine.”
“All right, then.” The silence stretched on and became awkward. “I have to get back to my meeting.”
“Right!” Imogene snapped out of her painful reverie. “I’m sorry to take up your time.”
“It was a welcome interruption, I assure you.” Catherine laughed lightly before saying good-bye and hanging up the phone.
Imogene sat and stared at the phone, wondering what she had just agreed to. When she looked around her store she didn’t want to think of the way a straight-laced, professional Catherine would judge it, just like she had her best friend. She wasn’t at all sure if someone who wore a suit every day and was so business oriented could see the heartbeat that was within the small boutique.
“Oh well. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Imogene whispered to herself as she went to take inventory of some newly arrived jewelry.
Chapter Seven
As Catherine went from the railway station to her home, she tried to ignore the way she felt. She was dreading this private work, but had been urged into it by her best friend and charmed into caring by the charismatic Imogene. It was a deadly combination she didn’t even bother to try to fight. Her watch read five forty-five by the time she stepped into the garage of her condo. As much as she would have liked to run upstairs to change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater, she didn’t have time for it. She said a small, thankful prayer for the comfortable penny loafers she had chosen that morning. Sliding behind the wheel of her Mercedes, she pulled out onto an empty road, making her way to Washington Street.
It wasn’t hard to spot Cowboy Fran’s amongst the other storefronts. Catherine wondered how she hadn’t noticed it until now. It was bright, inviting, and charming with its colorful exterior and carefully decorated front window. This place was clearly well cared for, and that made all the difference in the success of a small business. The bell above the door that signaled Catherine’s arrival went unnoticed by Imogene. She was so engrossed in helping an elderly woman that she didn’t tear her eyes away to greet her latest customer, but that didn’t stop her from speaking up the best she could.
“Hello!” She was so cheerful and bubbly that Catherine couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Take your time.” Catherine stepped a little closer and stood with her hip against the counter.
Catherine could tell Imogene recognized her voice by the way her body stiffened slightly before she relaxed and turned to her. Catherine’s breath caught as their eyes met and Imogene graced her with a warm smile. Her heart pounded, and all Catherine could think of was how that mouth had to be made of sugar and spice. When Imogene returned her attention to her customer, Catherine shook off her slight stupor.
Catherine took the opportunity to observe Imogene in her element as well as drink in the sight before her. Imogene wore her long red hair pulled back and bundled into some sort of bun at the top of her head. A few small tendrils escaped and danced along a creamy white nape exposed by a flowing green blouse. Catherine had knowledge, albeit minimal, of materials and she felt it was safe to guess that this one was a silk blend. It looked soft enough to beckon to her fingertips, but not as soft as the skin that was exposed by the low V-neck collar. Her tight blue jeans hugged her shapely thighs and calves that tapered down to black ballet flats.
Shaking her head, Catherine turned her attention to the store, taking in the wide array of goods and the charming decorations. Cowboy Fran’s was indeed warm and inviting, but it also had the same feel that most high-end boutiques had. Catherine was genuinely impressed. In less than ten minutes, Imogene had rung up her customer an
d was at Catherine’s side.
“Well, don’t you stick out like a sore thumb?” Imogene pointed at her black and gray ensemble. That prompted Catherine to take another look at her very colorful surroundings. “So? What do you think?”
“It’s lovely.” At Imogene’s eye-roll, she continued. “I mean it! It’s lovely and quite unique. Very eclectic. It seems like the type of establishment that draws in the general public as well as regular clients.”
“As a matter of fact, the woman who just left is Ruth Ann. She comes in at least once a week for a new pair of earrings. I often wonder what her jewelry box looks like since she’s been a customer of mine from the moment the doors opened in 2003.” After they shared a short laugh, Imogene motioned toward the back of the store. “Let me show you to the office.”
“But what if a customer comes in?”
“Cameras in every corner, and the bell is anything but quiet. Come on.”
Catherine followed her through the store, pausing to check out various items of interest. A colorful, watercolor style floral print silk robe caught Catherine’s eye. Alice would love that. She made a note to check the price on the way out. They made it to the office moments later, and Catherine removed her jacket and took a seat across from Imogene, behind a small desk overrun with piles of papers, order forms, and empty paper coffee cups. Catherine watched as Imogene looked her over.
“Does the wool look as classy as you suspected?” she asked.
“Are you a swimmer?”
“Excuse me?” The question caught Catherine off guard.
“You’re built like a swimmer.”
“I run.” Catherine was bewildered. She thought she’d seen an attraction in Imogene’s eyes as they swept her body, not just innocent curiosity. Sure, she had been out of the dating game for a while, but was she really that out of touch with reading people?
