Take the Trophy and Run

by Gail Sattler

  He wished there was some way he could find out how to make her see things as he did.

  He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Amber’s number. “I have an idea, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. How about if I take you out for lunch? Jordan wouldn’t mind sitting in your store for an hour. It will give him a chance to sort the 200 baby pictures on his phone.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  Stan gritted his teeth. He didn’t know why he was going to do this because it only showed how desperate he was. “I’ll take you to Caroline’s tearoom, The Pink Geranium.” Even the name of the place made him itch.

  Amber gasped. “Really? You told me recently you’d never go there. Are you sure about this?”

  Stan turned and watched Jordan, who had just cornered Mark with his latest new batch of photos. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  As expected, Jordan welcomed the chance to once again have an hour of paid time to sit in Amber’s store and play with his photos.

  They arrived at the tearoom just before noon, just before the lunch rush, but the place was still fairly crowded, and most of the guests had gray hair.

  Caroline was shocked at first to see them, then went all gushy and seated them at a cramped little table for two against the wall, right under a basket of pink geraniums. After they were seated, he switched napkins with Amber so she would have the pink one, and he could have the green one.

  Caroline came back with menus and stood above them with her pencil poised over her notepad. “What kind of tea would you like? I just got a beautiful new fragrant Indian blend that’s just magnificent.” She turned to Stan. “I’ve got a peppermint tea that you’ll probably like.”

  Stan looked down at the fragile little cup, painted with flowers and trimmed with swirls of gold. Amber’s cup had pictures of chickens and other farm animals on it.

  He should have traded cups too.

  He looked up at Caroline. “Just normal tea is good.”

  Amber didn’t look at the menu, she knew what she wanted, and Stan said he’d have the same.

  Surrounded by fine china and flowers and candles and delicate pretty things, he felt like an elephant in a gift store. It didn’t help that he was the only man in the place.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” Amber said when Caroline left, nearly gushing.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, not quite sure why he thought this was such a great idea. One thing, though, the cuteness of the decor took the edge off his mood; he couldn’t stay angry in a place like this. Everything was breakable.

  He also couldn’t concentrate. A few tables to the right were Libby and Pamela and Naomi, holding their teacups up in the air not using all their fingers, giggling at each other while they talked.

  There was no way he could tell Amber what he wanted to with the troublesome trio so close to them, watching everything they did.

  Just to rub it in, the three of them smiled and waved at them, so he and Amber smiled and waved back.

  “Don’t look so glum,” Amber said to him. “Smile. This place is meant to lift the spirits.”

  “I’m not glum.” He looked down into his teacup. Even the bottom of the cup had pictures of flowers. On the inside. “I guess you can’t put these in the dishwasher, can you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He couldn’t imagine a restaurant that would hand-wash this many dishes a day, but he guessed Caroline’s prices had to account for the extra labor. He didn’t know, since he hadn’t looked at the menu.

  Amber managed to make him forget about Libby and Pamela and Naomi in the immediate vicinity by talking about the last ball game, although it was hard to get excited about sports surrounded by pink.

  The food was as good as Amber told him it would be, which did a lot to soothe his savage stomach. The peach cobbler was also good, even better than his mother’s, and he made Amber promise never to tell his mother he’d said that.

  In the time it took to eat a full lunch, including a salad, plus dessert and a second cup of tea each, Libby and Pamela and Naomi were still sitting there, giggling and yakking. Since both he and Amber had to get back to work, Stan didn’t stop to chat with the ladies; he only gave them a polite smile and kept walking. But he did make sure that when he walked by them, he held Amber’s hand.

  As he walked by, he snuck a peek at them, all three of them staring back, poking each other and nodding their heads. And that made the whole embarrassing trip worthwhile.

  He grinned at Amber as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. “Jordan has probably used up the battery on his cell phone by now. I’m sure he’s anxious for us to get back.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I ripped a hole in my pants. I need to go to Walmart on the way home. Want to grab something for supper at the McDonalds at the front of the store while we’re there?”

  Amber cringed, not sure if she wanted to hear the details. “Is there a reason you need me to go?”

  “Yeah. I want to buy a T-shirt too. You’re better at picking colors than me.”

  That made so much sense, especially remembering what he’d almost done to his house until he allowed her to decorate in colors that actually matched and weren’t all shades of black, gray, and brown. “Sure. We can do that. I also need to buy another ball of yarn. I ran short on a project.”

  As they walked into the store, Stan grabbed her hand and led her to the men’s clothing department. When she flinched, he only grinned, and didn’t let go.

  “Necessities first.” He swept his free hand downward, drawing her attention to the slash in the leg of his jeans from his knee all the way down his leg, exposing the front of one work boot, with gray wool work socks sticking out, and his hairy shin.

  “That looks nasty. But I don’t see a cut on your leg, so I guess that’s good.”

  “I suppose. It sliced through my coveralls too. On the way home I need to stop and drop them off at my parents’ house. Mom said she’d patch them for me. I’ll wear patched coveralls, but I won’t wear patched jeans.”

  Once they arrived at the rack of jeans, without releasing her hand, Stan picked up a pair of his favorite jeans, read the label with the size, tucked it under his arm, and guided her toward the T-shirts. Using her free hand, Amber picked a nice blue that set off his skin tone in size Large and handed it to him. “How’s this?”

  “Great. Thanks.” Still not letting go, he tucked the T-shirt under his arm with the jeans and started walking toward Domestics.

  “Aren’t you going to try those on?”

  “Why? I know my size. The jeans are the same as what I’ve got on.”

  “But you still have to try them on.”

  “Why?”

  She’d tried on eight pairs of jeans before she got just the right ones, and she didn’t buy the same brand as what she’d been wearing. “Never mind,” she grumbled as she walked with him.

  They’d almost made it to the yarn display when he lowered his head and spoke in a stage whisper. “Don’t look now, but you won’t believe who’s coming.”

  “I have to look, or else I won’t see who it is.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Amber! Stan! Over here!”

  Amber turned her head and smiled. “Sherry, Sylvia, how nice to see you.”

  The ladies smiled, looked at their joined hands, both smiles widened as they looked up. “What fun to see you both here,” Sylvia said, not losing her grin. “Isn’t it a good night to shop?”

  Sherry pointed her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the center aisle. “Did you see the new display with the new towels and pillows? All the new colors.”

  Amber didn’t really want to go, and she certainly didn’t need any more towels, but she did want to be
polite. “I suppose we will later. We were just on our way to pick up some yarn, so we’ll probably go look after we’ve paid for everything. It might be a while. Maybe we’ll see you there?”

  Sylvia nodded while Sherry shook her head, they looked at each other and laughed.

  “Maybe,” Sherry said, and then her face turned serious. “This year I was chosen to inspect your garden for your membership renewal. You close your store at 5:30 on Saturday, don’t you? Would it work for me to take a quick look on Saturday after you get home?”

  A mental picture of her pathetic garden flashed before her eyes. It was nothing spectacular, but thanks to Stan’s automatic sprinklers, she at least had a garden. If she got out a flashlight and did her weeding Friday night, she could make it passable. “Yes, that would work for me. I’ll expect you on Saturday.”

  The two ladies once again looked at their joined hands, smiled, nodded, and continued on their way to wherever they were originally headed.

  Stan also watched them walk away. “This wasn’t what I had in mind, but it will work in our favor. Do you realize that out of ten committee members, we’ve already seen five of them, just today? Soon we’ll see my mother. That’s six. Word will spread to the rest of them before we finish paying for our stuff.”

  The reminder of the matchmaking scheme effectively killed her good mood for the evening, but she forced herself not to let it show.

  After having been seen by half of the committee in the space of half a day, the chances of coming across more weren’t high, yet Stan didn’t release her hand as they walked toward the checkout.

  Even though they’d been coerced, what they were doing was a deception. She supposed they were succeeding in the small picture, but in the big picture they solved nothing. She also didn’t know how long they needed to keep it up to satisfy the committee that they were sufficiently match-made so they would leave them alone.

  She looked up at Stan as they walked. “This thing that we’re doing. Is this really what you want to happen?”

  He continued facing forward, not looking at her as he replied. “No, not really.”

  “What do you want to happen? In the big picture.”

  “I want to settle down. Get married. The white picket fence, the dog, the whole nine yards. What about you?”

  Amber’s heart sank. She wanted those same things. But they weren’t going to happen until she paid off Uncle Henry, which, if she managed to make all her payments and didn’t need to move to Chicago to work off an unpaid balance, would be in four more years.

  Her lower lip quivered. Judging from Stan’s comment, he didn’t want to wait four years. He was ready now. Just as she’d felt over the last few months, she’d been correct. He truly was ready to settle down, and she couldn’t make him wait for her. He was a sweet and decent and wonderful man—and hot with his mustache. Just like Santa at Christmas, she had to make sure he got what he desired.

  She cleared her throat, hoping her voice came out even. “I want—”

  “Stan! Amber! Yoo-hoo!”

  Amber cringed as Kathy ran toward them, one arm loaded down with bags, the other waving wildly in the air.

  “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  “I was at the mall down the block and Sylvia phoned to tell me she saw you here. I know you’re coming over for me to fix your coveralls tonight, so I sent your father home. He was just getting bored. I can keep shopping with you two, and you can take me home.” She turned to Amber. “Isn’t that a fun idea?”

  “Sure,” Stan replied, but his tone lacked sincerity. “But Amber and I were talking.”

  Kathy waved her hand in the air. “So go ahead and talk. Just pretend I’m not here.”

  Like that was realistically going to happen. Although maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. Stan had already dropped the bomb on her about wanting to settle down. Now she could take more time to adjust to it before it exploded in her face.

  They continued walking, her on one side of him, because he wasn’t releasing her hand, and his mother on his other side.

  His relaxed expression was gone. There was a tightness in his jaw, like he was clenching his teeth.

  Amber hadn’t been aware that Stan had met someone because, with all the time he’d spent with her lately, he hadn’t had time to pursue a relationship. But he had to have met someone, somewhere, because he told her his projection into the future for marriage.

  She wondered how far along the relationship could be; after all, he’d kissed her a number of times. It couldn’t be serious because Stan was not the type to cheat, especially after seeing how unfaithfulness devastated his best friend. This meant that even though the relationship wasn’t far along, the woman was special enough that he saw what he ultimately wanted, and that he was prepared to do what it took to see if it could work. One day she also wanted long term, but she couldn’t allow herself to think it could happen for her for a few more years.

  For someone who wanted to shop, Kathy didn’t do much browsing. They picked up a set of glasses to replace a set that had one missing from years ago, and a bottle of nail polish. After that, they paid for their purchases and went home.

  Amber gave Kathy the front seat and climbed into the back. Strangely, even though Stan owned this big truck, a crew-cab with bucket seats, she’d never been in it with a third person, so she’d never been in the back seat. The back was littered with bags, wrappers, dried leaves, an empty donut box, and a few small tools. In a way, it was kind of funny. The outside was immaculate, including the back bed, but the inside behind the driver’s area was a pig sty. This was a side of Stan she’d never seen.

  She made a few pig grunts to give him the hint, but either he didn’t hear her over his mother’s chattering, or he ignored her.

  As soon as they arrived at his parents’ house, Stan slipped into his new jeans, which fit exactly the same as the ones he took off.

  Instead of disappearing into Stan’s old bedroom, which was now converted into a sewing room with both a regular sewing machine and a serger, Kathy joined Stan, Frank, and Amber in the living room, holding Stan’s torn coveralls but not actually doing anything with them.

  “I was wondering if you two have any plans for the weekend,” she said, gazing expectantly at them, idly picking at a loose thread.

  Both of them always worked Saturdays, so that didn’t leave either of them with a lot of options. The weekend consisted of one day, Sunday, and they went to church in the morning.

  “Not really,” she replied.

  “Yes,” Stan said. “I was thinking of going to the museum.”

  “What?” Amber and Kathy asked in unison.

  “One of my customers said they’re having a dominoes competition, and his son is competing with his team. A team is four people, they have twenty minutes to set up, then one domino is flipped and they’re judged. He gave me free tickets. Everyone who has a ticket gets to vote.”

  Amber blinked and stared at him. “Dominoes?”

  Stan’s ears turned red. “It sounded more interesting at the time. These are high school kids, and it seems like a wholesome project that requires a bit of thought and a lot of teamwork to put it together.”

  “I guess we can go.”

  Stan stood. “Speaking of going, I just realized that you probably can’t fix those until they’re washed. I’ll take them back and throw them in the laundry, and bring them back next time I come. Sorry about that.”

  Kathy pressed her hands down on the coveralls. “It’s true, I can’t run my sewing machine through the grease spots, but I can wash them just as well here. Don’t worry about it. You have another pair, I would think.”

  “I have a few more, yes.” He extended one hand toward Amber. “Come on, Honey, let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

  Amber choked, and then coughed.

&nbs
p; Kathy handed her a tissue. “Are you coming down with something? I have some cough suppressant. There’s nothing worse than a summer cold, is there?”

  “I’m fine,” she gasped, finally managing to control herself, then followed Stan to the door.

  She said her good-byes to Kathy and Frank, then climbed into Stan’s truck—into the front seat, where it was clean.

  “Honey?” she blurted out the second she closed the door. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”

  “It’s a term of endearment,” he grumbled as he backed out of his parents’ driveway and turned toward her townhouse.

  “The Bloomfield Museum? A dominoes competition?”

  “I was going to tell you, but we kept getting interrupted. If you don’t want to go, we can do something else. I didn’t make any promises. I said I had to ask you first.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t want to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  She thought of him earlier, at The Pink Geranium. He’d looked so out of place in the fussy tearoom, but the huge contrast between the burly mechanic and the delicate gray-haired ladies just made it even more special that he’d taken her there. He’d done something very special for her. Going to the dominoes competition to cheer on his customer’s son was the least she could do for him.

  He really deserved to find that someone special, someone who could be guaranteed to be there for him. She couldn’t be the person he needed, so she needed to help him find that woman, even if it killed her to do it.

  She couldn’t be that person, but she would always be his friend, and that was more important than anything.