He chuckled as he pushed the wheelchair up close to the small patch of tomato plants and plucked a weed that had sneaked up through the mulch. “I couldn’t help myself. She was just so nice and fun to be with.”
He looked down at his grandfather who stared at the plants. “And it wasn’t really a date I asked her out on anyway. I told her I was looking for land to buy. And that’s kind of true. I mean we’re always looking for good farmland, right?”
He paused. “I know. Even that’s a mistake. I’m just setting myself up for another fall. I can just see the whole thing with Judy happening all over again. One call and off she goes to Singapore for a job promotion. So much for the engagement ring. So much for good ol’ Zane.”
He crouched down beside the wheelchair and scooped up a little dirt. He pressed it into his grandfather’s hand and closed the old man’s fingers around it.
Somewhere in Tom’s clouded, pale blue eyes, Zane sensed some kind of recognition. Zane lifted his grandfather’s feeble hand close to his nose so that he could breathe in the scent of the warm, dark soil.
“The thing is, Pops, I really liked her. I was thinking about taking her out in the boat on Friday. Showing her your dad’s land. What do you think?”
Zane carefully loosened his grandfather’s hands and sprinkled the dirt onto the ground again. “I know, do what I think’s best. You’ll always support me.”
He sighed and sat back on the bench. Scootie dropped the stick at his feet and Zane threw it as far as he could. The dog bounded off and to Zane’s delight, his grandfather smiled.
“You like it when I bring Scootie, don’t you?” Zane leaned forward. “Here, let me get that.” He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his grandfather’s plaid shirt and gently wiped the old man’s mouth. He refolded it and tucked it back into the pocket, giving it a pat.
As if on cue, the black Lab came bounding back, stick in his mouth and he collapsed at the foot of the wheelchair.
“Hey, look who’s back, Pops!” Zane gave Scootie a scratch between the ears. “So how about a walk down the path, through the woods?” he asked, already on his feet, grabbing the wheelchair.
“Here we go.” He pushed his grandfather down the walk. The dog bounded past them, familiar with the path they took several days a week. “Think we can take him if we run?”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” Zane answered for Tom. And then he took off at a run, pushing the wheelchair.
Grandfather opened his arms and tipped back his head and grinned, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face.
To Zane, that smile was worth a million dollars.
Wednesday morning, Elise headed downtown in her car to drop off some paperwork for a client. She hadn’t heard from Zane yet, but she guessed he would call her tonight. She had a women’s business league meeting right after work, but she’d skip the dinner afterward, just to be sure she was home when he called. She was trying hard not to get her hopes up. He hadn’t said he wanted a date. He’d said he wanted to talk about real estate.
Elise signaled and turned left onto a divided road that went through the middle of town. As she passed an old beat-up pickup truck, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.
It couldn’t be.
She slowed down so that the dilapidated truck passed her in the right lane. The truck spat and sputtered as it chugged along, bits of straw blowing out of its bed. It didn’t even have a typical Delaware state license plate, but instead had a tag, that read Farm Vehicle in black block letters. The body of the truck was blue. Rusted blue. The original tailgate had been replaced sometime when she was a teenager with a red one. The tailgate’s rust matched the body’s quite nicely.
Elise clutched the steering wheel of her imported sedan as the driver came into view again. He had the radio blasting to some old rock station that played hits from the seventies and eighties. The song “Ballroom Blitz” blared and he sang along. His dusty ball cap was pulled down low over his brow, one muscular, tanned arm rested on the open window as he tapped to the tune.
The farmer looked like Zane.
It couldn’t be Zane, of course. Zane drove a BMW sedan. Even though she didn’t know what he did for a living, she could guess from the kind of man he was. She was certain he was working in an office somewhere right now. Wearing a gray business suit, ordering employees around. At the very least he was having lunch with a client, sipping a nice wine and ordering Caesar salad with the dressing on the side.
They say everyone has a twin, she told herself, trying not to hyperventilate as she let the truck pull away from her. She ignored the guy in the white car behind her who was tailgating in an effort to get her to speed up.
That farmer was obviously Zane’s twin. Wasn’t that a funny coincidence? Right here in their own town of Nassateague Bay.
Or maybe Zane had an identical twin brother and he just hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe the farmer was a twin brother, that was it. A black sheep of the family. Never made it to college. Worked on a potato farm. Planted and harvested soybeans for a living.
Elise forced herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. She put down the passenger side window so she could get some air.
The tailgater passed her. “It’s the pedal on the right,” he shouted as he whizzed by.
Elise slowly pressed the accelerator until she was once again doing the speed limit. The pickup turned right at the next intersection. Without thinking, she signaled and switched lanes quickly so that she could follow the imposter.
It wasn’t Zane. She knew the farmer wasn’t Zane. He couldn’t be Zane. There was no place to indicate “farmer” on The Husband Finder checklist. She had clearly stated in the career category that she was looking for a professional, a man who would understand her devotion to her profession. She tried not to panic as she followed the truck down a narrow side street.
Two blocks down, the truck made another right. She continued to follow at a safe distance.
The farmer wasn’t Zane, and she was going to prove it to herself.
The truck pulled into a gravel parking lot. She had never been on this side of town. A sign on the side of the tin-roofed cement block building read Smitty’s Seed & Feed. It was a feed store, for heaven’s sake. A store where farmers bought their…animal provisions and bird seed, she supposed.
She slowed down, watching as the old truck lurched to a halt and the door swung open. As she drove by, she saw the farmer lift his head, raise a hand and call good-naturedly to a man standing in an open door on the loading dock.
She knew that voice.
She knew that bad-boy blond hair sticking out from beneath the ball cap.
Elise drove by the store and kept going.
She was afraid she might cry.
A farmer? Zane farmed for a living? Now what? Career was a big heading on The Husband Finder checklist. It was even printed in bold. She’d already ignored the whole chemistry advice. Could she scratch out the career part, too? Would the list still work?
Elise pulled into a parking spot in front of her client’s business and picked up her cell phone to call Liz’s extension at work.
“Liz Jefferson.”
“Liz,” Elise said, feeling a little silly for even calling about this in the middle of the day. Liz was busy; personal lives were supposed to stay out of the office.
“Elise?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Elise said. “I just saw Zane in town.”
“And he canceled your date? Excuse me, your nondate?” she corrected. “Jerk.”
“No, no. I didn’t speak to him. I just saw him drive by.”
“And he had a woman with him and a baby in a car seat in the back. The man’s married. Jerk.”
“No, Liz, listen to me. I saw Zane and he…he was driving a pickup. An old pickup.” She took a deep breath. “Liz, he got out of the truck at a feed store wearing overalls.”
“Sweet Mary, mother of Joseph
,” Liz swore.
“I don’t think he’s a doctor or a lawyer,” Elise said. “What do I do?”
“What do you do?” Liz shrieked. “You cancel the date, of course. You were the top seller for Waterfront Realty last month. You don’t date farmers.”
Elise gathered her client’s paperwork from the passenger’s seat. She should have known that’s what Liz would say. Liz was all about how things appeared. She didn’t even date men who were junior partners in a firm. “You think?” Elise said in a small voice.
“Look at the book, peruse the checklist,” Liz said firmly. “It’s not one of the choices, sweetie. I don’t care how fine-looking the man is.”
“I have to go,” Elise told Liz. “I’m dropping off Joe Carmine’s contracts on that warehouse.”
“Call and cancel the date,” Liz insisted. “Just call, and leave a message on Zane’s answering machine and tell him you can’t meet him, but if he wants to talk about land, he can call the office and you’ll be happy to see him.”
“Gotta go, Liz,” Elise said. “Talk to you later.”
Elise climbed out of her car and delivered her client’s contracts. Half an hour later, back in the car, she picked up her cell phone and stared at it. Was Liz right? Should she cancel now before things went any further with Zane? Just leave a message on his answering machine? He wasn’t fitting the profile she’d laid out for herself. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for a husband. Her whole attraction, so far, had been based on sheer chemistry. Right?
It was the right thing to do. Before she changed her mind, she hit the buttons on the phone, rehearsing what she would say as she waited for his answering machine to pick up.
Did farmers even have answering machines?
“Hello.”
Zane’s voice startled Elise so badly that she almost hung up. He was there? How was he there? She had just seen him at the feed store. Shouldn’t he be out riding a tractor or something?
“Hello?” Zane repeated.
“Z-Zane,” Elise said, trying to find her voice.
“Ellie.”
She could almost hear his smile over the phone. “Yes, it’s Elise.” She paused. She knew what she needed to say now. She needed to tell him that she couldn’t make it Friday night. That was all she had to say. She didn’t need to make an excuse. In business, one never made excuses.
“Hey, you’re not calling to bail out on me, are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“N-no, no of course not.” The words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
He had called her Ellie. He had smiled when he said her name. He was so darned nice.
She took a deep breath. Why was she listening to other people instead of herself? The heck with Liz. The heck with her father’s voice in her head. Maybe she’d just made a mistake when she’d filled out the career part in The Husband Finder. Maybe she was supposed to be more general. “Of course I’m not canceling,” she said.
“Well, good, because I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
“You have?” she said softly.
“Mmm-hmm. I actually turned down my sister’s garlic roast for you. She called last night to see if I wanted to come to dinner Friday night, and I told her I was busy.”
That was so sweet. No man had ever turned down his sister’s roast for her before.
“So,” she said. “What are you doing home this time of day? I…I thought I would get your answering machine. I was…just calling to see what I should wear Friday. You said you wanted to talk about some land, but I didn’t know if that meant drinks…dinner?” she said, hoping she didn’t come on too strong.
“Dress casual. Wear sneakers. No panty hose. I want to take you out on my boat, show you a piece of land I’m interested in. As for why I’m home, I’m here because I wanted to check my chicks before I went by the office.”
What he said about the boat went right over her head. She heard the word office and her heart buoyed. She didn’t know what the deal with the old truck and the overalls was, but he worked in an office. Farmers didn’t have offices.
Then she realized he had said “chicks.” Surely he didn’t run a topless dancing place or something. “Your chicks?” she asked.
He laughed. “Baby chicks. Peeps. You know. Gallus domesticus. Chickens. As in Kentucky Fried. I raise chickens.”
A chicken farmer? Her prince who was going to save her from a life of microwave popcorn dinners and lonely nights with Letterman was a chicken farmer? There was no way chicken farmer was going to fit on that itty bitty line on The Husband Finder checklist.
“Chickens?” she managed. “You raise chickens?”
“Actually eggs. These chicks are a new breed I’m trying out. I like to keep my eye on them myself. So how’s six?”
“Six? Six is good.” Elise felt numb to the tips of her toes and she didn’t think it was because her shoes were too tight. “I’ll be ready at six. I…I’ll meet you at the boat dock. I’ll have to come right from work.”
He gave her directions to the place on the bay where he put out his boat. Elise just kept nodding like a numb wit.
“Listen, I’d better get back to work,” Zane said.
“Me, too,” Elise answered, as if coming out of her daze.
“See you Friday on the dock?”
“See you Friday.”
She hung up and sat there in her car for a moment staring at the cell phone in her hand. A smile found its way to her face as she was filled with a strange sense of confidence. A chicken farmer? So what if he was a chicken farmer? He was still the finest looking chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.
He was the only chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.
She’d just squeeze it in on the checklist.
Smiling to himself, Zane hung up the phone on the wall by the refrigerator. He was looking forward to seeing Ellie on Friday; he was glad he had set aside his concerns about her occupation.
He opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of lemonade. Elise Montgomery wasn’t the kind of woman Zane usually dated. He tended to go for the earthy sort; flowered skirts, long, flowing hair, recycling fanatics. Kindergarten teachers. Social workers. He wished he’d asked Ellie more about her work. She had told him that she worked for a realty company. He wondered if selling real estate was just a job to her or if she was a “career woman.” He hadn’t had much luck with career women. In fact, he’d made a pact with himself to stay away from them.
First there had been his mother; she’d never been meant to have a husband, children. Then he’d dated Judy, one of his researchers for two years, and then asked her to marry him. They had actually been looking at wedding dates when she’d gotten the chance to take a job in Singapore. She had told Zane that she had deep feelings for him, but that she was at a point in her life when she had to put herself and her career first. As much as he hated to admit it, then and now, Judy had really hurt him. Now, as uncool and as backward as it sounded, he was looking for a woman ready to devote herself to a relationship. He wanted a woman to be able to devote her life to him the way he wanted to devote his life to someone he loved.
Zane finished off his lemonade and set the glass in the sink. He pushed open the screen door and crossed the back porch of the farmhouse he had grown up in. His father and his grandparents had made it a warm, welcoming home, and it was his hope that some day he would raise a family here.
Of course, first, he needed a wife. And he didn’t need a wife whose job was more important than her family. So far, the wife hunting wasn’t going so well. He was tired of casual dating however, the women he’d met just didn’t light his fire. But Ellie, there was something about Ellie that was different than all the others.
Her designer dresses and nice shoes somehow didn’t quite ring true. Didn’t quite fit. There was something innocent about her, despite her worldliness. In his mind’s eye he could see curling up by the fireplace in the front roo
m with her in the evening, cuddled under one of Grandma’s quilts, sharing their day with each other. He could see making babies with her in the four-poster bed he now slept in alone. He could imagine sharing his dreams with her…his life.
Was he crazy? Richard had stood there at the hospital dinner and said Elise Montgomery was a high-powered broker. He might as well have looked right at Zane and said “This woman isn’t for you.”
But Zane really liked her. And their date really wasn’t a date anyway, was it? He’d just have to keep that in mind on Friday.
Chapter Three
Beware of sentimentalities. Stick with concrete facts when assessing your man. The contemporary woman of today doesn’t have time for trivial overromanticizing.
Elise waited nervously in the front seat of her car, glancing at the boat dock every few minutes. She was early. Zane said six o’clock, but she’d left work at five to run to the store.
Unable to suppress her delight, she glanced down at the bright white tennis shoes she was wearing. She’d been able to find an ancient pair of jean shorts and an old T-shirt in the bottom of her closet, but she’d been at a loss as to what to wear on her feet for this date. She had running shoes, racquetball sneakers and cross-trainers, but nothing suitable to wear on a boat.
On impulse, after work, Elise had stopped at the dollar store near the office and bought a pair of plain white tennis shoes. Only five dollars. She’d never been in a dollar store in her life and had enjoyed herself thoroughly. She’d come out not just with the tennis shoes, but a set of hot mitts, a refrigerator magnet and a box of Post-Its. The grand total of her purchases had been eight dollars. She hadn’t realized having fun could be so cheap.
Elise glanced up at the sound of tires on gravel and saw the now familiar Ford pickup pulling a boat that, like the truck, had seen better days. Zane waved out the window. Well, it was more like a salute.
Elise didn’t usually date men who waved or saluted out windows.
Barefoot and Pregnant? Page 3
