The Marriage Portrait
Pamela Bauer
She was as pretty as a picture…but that certainly didn't mean Michael McFerrin would marry her! True, Cassie Carrigan had snared his interest, but she was the linchpin in his lovable-but-meddling mother's plan to garner a grandchild. The beautiful portrait artist claimed she wasn't a willing player in this game of marriage-go-round, but her kisses said otherwise. Michael was determined to halt his mother's antics–and the havoc Cassie caused in his heart. Why, he'd show Cassie who was in control…even if he had to marry her to do it!Happily Wedded After: Jump headlong into these stories that celebrate saying, "I do!"
“I need to find a way to convince my mother that she doesn’t need to find me a wife,” said Michael.
“Is that your business proposition? You want us to act as if we enjoy each other’s company when we’re with your mother?” asked Cassie, her eyes never leaving his.
“Actually I think we need to pretend it’s a little more than being friendly.”
Cassie’s heart started to pound faster. Her face felt flushed. “Are you saying you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“No, I want you to pretend to be my wife.”
Dear Reader,
November is an exciting month here at Harlequin American Romance. You’ll notice we have a brand-new look—but, of course, you can still count on Harlequin American Romance to bring you four terrific love stories sure to warm your heart.
Back by popular demand, Harlequin American Romance revisits the beloved town of Tyler, Wisconsin, in the RETURN TO TYLER series. Scandals, secrets and romances abound in this small town with fabulous stories written by some of your favorite authors. The always wonderful Jule McBride inaugurates this special four-book series with Secret Baby Spencer.
Bestselling author Muriel Jensen reprises her heartwarming WHO’S THE DADDY? series with Father Fever. Next, a former wallflower finally gets the attention of her high school crush when he returns to town and her friends give her a makeover and some special advice in Catching His Eye, the premiere of Jo Leigh’s THE GIRLFRIENDS’ GUIDE TO…continuing series. Finally, Harlequin American Romance’s theme promotion, HAPPILY WEDDED AFTER, which focuses on marriages of convenience, continues with Pamela Bauer’s The Marriage Portrait.
Enjoy them all—and don’t forget to come back again next month when another installment in the RETURN TO TYLER series from Judy Christenberry is waiting for you.
Wishing you happy reading,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
The Marriage Portrait
Pamela Bauer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For a woman who has been an inspiration to me my entire life, my sister Carol Ann.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Pamela Bauer was born and raised in Minnesota where you need a sense of humor if you’re going to survive winter. That’s why she writes romantic comedies set in the Midwest with heroes who know how to warm a woman’s heart…and toes. She has received awards from Affaire de Coeur and Romantic Times Magazine and her books have appeared on the Waldenbooks romance bestseller list. She currently makes her home in Minnesota where she lives with her husband who is her real-life hero, her two adult children and a bichon-poo who thinks he’s human. When she’s not writing, she enjoys watching foreign films, going to the theater and fishing.
Books by Pamela Bauer
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
688—THE PICK-UP MAN
718—MAIL ORDER COWBOY
803—SAVING CHRISTMAS
814—CORPORATE COWBOY
852—THE MARRIAGE PORTRAIT
Dear Reader,
I love happy endings. Call me an incurable romantic, but when two people fall in love, I want them to have a “happily ever after.” The cynics of this world may say there is no such thing, but I know differently. My parents recently celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Talk about inspiration!
We all know the road to “happily ever after” can be a bumpy one, even for two people in love. Or as my friend Sandy would say, “Marriage is a journey, not a cruise.”
It certainly has been a wonderful journey for my husband and me. We’ve shared joys and sorrows, successes and failures, dreams and disappointments. We started out as two love-struck teenagers, but along the way we became not only lovers, but the best of friends.
In The Marriage Portrait, Mac and Cassie’s journey doesn’t start in the traditional way. They marry not for love, but for convenience. But like us, they get more than they bargained for. I hope you will enjoy their story as they travel their road to “happily ever after.”
Warmly,
P.S. I love hearing from readers. You can write to me c/o MFW, PO Box 24107, Minneapolis, MN 55424.
Contents
Prologue (#u1ab22c29-0799-5640-9efc-e9aa4a91710b)
Chapter One (#u2e6a3a66-b71c-5ec4-9d71-d54b905445f8)
Chapter Two (#u92e797c0-0aaa-5a6f-ac93-0c6400682e23)
Chapter Three (#uc01dafa0-269c-5937-b3e6-81676a100130)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
“Ladies, it’s time for new business,” Louella Gibbons, the chairwoman of the Minnetonka Mums, declared with a clap of her gavel. The garden club, composed entirely of senior citizens, had gathered for their monthly meeting. All talk of hybrids and pollination ceased as they looked to their leader.
“I believe Tessie has a request.”
All eyes turned in the direction of the white-haired woman who pushed her chair back and stood—all five feet two inches of her. With a somber expression on her face, she said, “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to help with Michael.”
Murmurs of approval spread around the table, but they were quickly silenced as Louella said, “Order, ladies.”
Tessie continued. “I’ve given him plenty of time to do his thing, but as you know, he’s going to be thirty-five next month. I’m afraid if I don’t do something, it’ll be too late. I’m not getting any younger, either.”
“No, none of us are,” Agnes Dienhardt contributed.
“And we all know what’s happening,” Tessie continued.
“The pool’s getting shallower with every year that passes,” Francine Collona answered with an ominous shake of her head.
“You don’t want him to wait so long that it’s empty,” another Mum piped in.
“He definitely needs a little push in the right direction,” Agnes added.
“You all know I’m not the kind of mother to interfere, but…” Tessie trailed off.
“He’s leaving you no choice,” someone finished for her.
“Exactly,” Tessie stated with a knowing nod. “And I have good intentions. I only want him to be happy.”
“Of course. We all do. We love him, too,” Louella said on behalf of the group.
“Then you’ll do it?” Tessie asked, giving the group an encompassing glance.
“Of course, we’ll do it, but someone will have to make a motion,” Louella answered.
Betty Jean Greer raised her hand and said, “I move that the next project we undertake be the courtship of Dr. Mac.”
“I second,” another voice said.
“All in favor?” Louella asked.
A chorus of ayes could be heard.
“Anyone opposed?”
Silence.
Louella then decreed, “Passed. The Minnetonka Mums have agreed that they will do whatever they can to assist Tessie in finding Dr. Mac a wife.”
Tessie smiled broadly at the group of women gathered. “Thank you so much. You are the dearest friends a woman could have.”
“That’s what Mums are for,” Agnes reminded her with a pat on Tessie’s hand. “Besides, we’ve all been itching for you to give us the go-ahead. We have lots of ideas.”
Tessie smiled slyly. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Should we get down to business, ladies?”
Chapter One
“Good morning, Dr. Mac. And happy birthday.” The young woman sitting at the reception desk in the clinic handed him a small stack of pink slips. “Your messages.”
“Thank you, Jenny. For both the birthday wish and these,” he said, waving the pink slips in the air.
“I put up a sign. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding toward the waiting area where a computer-generated banner hung on the wall. It read, “Bark for Dr. Mac’s birthday.”
Dr. Michael McFerrin wished the staff didn’t see birthdays as an occasion to celebrate. If it were up to him, he’d treat his as if it were just another day of the week. Get up, go to work and come home. No fuss. No big deal.
Unfortunately, Jenny—and he guessed the other employees at the clinic—thought his birthday merited more than a casual “oh, by the way, happy birthday” wish in passing. He discovered this was true when he stepped into his office and saw the cake. Suddenly, behind him was the entire office staff.
“That looks like an awful lot of fire for one cake,” he quipped as the tech, Tabitha, began lighting the candles.
“Quick, make a wish,” she said, when all thirty-five had been lit.
Mac wasn’t one to make wishes. He closed his eyes briefly to humor them, then with a deep breath, blew out the candles. One remained lit. He blew once more, it went out and then burst into flame again.
“All right. So who put the trick candle on the cake?” he asked, surveying the small group gathered around him.
“No wishes for you this year,” Tabitha said smartly as she pulled the candles from the frosting. “Who’s having cake?”
“I haven’t had breakfast,” Mac remarked.
“Sir, this is breakfast,” Tabitha retorted, cutting the cake with a large knife. “I’ll cut you a big one.”
“First he has to open his present,” Jenny reminded everyone.
Present? He squirmed uncomfortably. “Didn’t we agree last year that there were going to be no more presents?” He plastered his sternest look on his face.
“You agreed,” Tabitha retorted. “We didn’t.”
Jenny produced a brightly wrapped package. He fumbled with the gold ribbon that refused to come undone. Finally Jenny reached over and clipped it with scissors. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
Inside the box was a T-shirt that had a cartoon drawing of a shaggy mutt on the front. Below was a caption that read “In Dog Years I’m Dead.”
He grinned. “Very funny, ladies.”
“We know you’re not dead, sir,” Jenny spoke up.
“Well, Jenny does anyway,” Tabitha quipped. “She answers your private line. What’s the total so far this month?”
“Only seven. He’s slipping,” Jenny answered.
“Oh-oh. He is getting old, isn’t he?” Lynn, the other vet on staff, teased.
Michael didn’t need to ask to what the number seven referred. His all-female staff made no secret of the poll they had each month. Instead of having sports pools as most offices had, they had a Dr. Mac pool. Every woman in the office put in five bucks and made a guess as to how many women would bring in a healthy pet just for the chance to spend a few minutes with him.
“Dr. Mac, you should get married and put all those poor women out of their misery,” Jenny advised.
He sighed. “At my age, Jenny, all the good ones are gone.”
“You’re just not looking in the right places,” Tabitha told him, handing him a large square of chocolate cake iced with white frosting.
Michael wasn’t really looking at all. He’d never had to. Women found him. Ever since he’d played football in high school and college, he hadn’t lacked for female companions. And as for marriage, he’d never thought much about it. Why should he? He had a great life as a single guy and he didn’t need to complicate it with the kind of love romanticized by songs and movies.
“Are you still dating Julia?” Tabitha wanted to know.
“Oh, good heavens, no. She’s gone. It’s a Colleen now,” Jenny answered.
“It’s nobody right now,” Michael corrected her.
“That might change real soon,” Phyllis, the lab tech, said smugly.
“Of course it’ll change,” another piped up. “It’s simply a matter of time.”
Michael just grinned in amusement. Over the years he’d grown accustomed to their good-natured teasing.
“Yes, it is. Listen to this,” Phyllis commanded everyone, waving the newspaper in midair. “It’s Dr. Mac’s horoscope for having a birthday today,” she announced, then cleared her throat before reading aloud. “‘You may help someone who is down on his or her luck by buying his or her wares.’”
“That’s nothing new. Dr. Mac does that all the time. He takes Henry’s products even though he knows we won’t be able to use them all,” Jenny reminded everyone.
Phyllis continued. “Your lucky money months are September and January.”
“Guess that means we should wait to hit him up for a raise, eh?” Tabitha quipped.
Phyllis smiled, then went on. “‘Listen to the advice of a close relative and act upon it.’”
“I don’t have any close relatives except Tessie, and I always take her advice,” Michael said.
“And so you should. She’s a wise woman,” Phyllis told him, then finished reading the horoscope. “Now here’s the best part. ‘Take a romantic risk in the next three weeks because you’re more emotionally available to love now than you’ve ever been in the past.’”
“Oh-oh. Maybe Dr. Mac is finally going to meet his match,” Tabitha said with a challenging gleam in her eye.
Michael laughed. “You ladies know I can’t give my heart away. It belongs to all of you.”
That produced a chorus of groans.
“Spoken like a true bachelor,” Lynn quipped.
Michael threw up his hands in defense. “Hey! I’m only thirty-five. Even if that is old in dog years, it’s young in man years. And you ladies know I’m perfectly happy being your boss and dedicating my time and energy to what I love most—my patients. Speaking of which, aren’t there any here this morning?”
“They can wait,” Tabitha assured him. “Finish your cake.”
“And tell us your plans for this evening,” Jenny added.
“I believe Tessie is cooking a special meal for me. I offered to take her out to dinner, but she insisted on cooking it herself,” he answered.
“And so you should let her. She’s enjoys fussing over you,” Tabitha said. “You’re lucky to have such a wonderful woman for a mother.”
Michael couldn’t argue that one. He was very fortunate indeed to have Tessie McFerrin for a mother. He finished the cake, washed it down with a couple of sips from his bottle of mineral water, then reached for his lab coat.
“Time for work,” he announced as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the white jacket.
“You will keep us posted, won’t you, Dr. Mac?” Phyllis asked.
“About what?”
“Whether or not your horoscope is right.”
“You mean about the lucky months?” he quipped with a smile.
Phyllis gave him a playful punch on the arm, prompting Tabitha to say, “Never mind him, Phyl. His time is coming. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Michael smiled to himself. Little did they know, he thought, and went to greet his first patient.
EVERY TIME MICHAEL DROVE to Tessie’s home on Lake Minnetonka, he could feel a sense of calmness wash over him. There was something to be said about going home, especially when that home was located on one of the state’s largest lakes in a sleepy little town nearly surrounded by water.
When Tessie and her husband had first built the house, it had been one of the many charming waterfront cottages dotting the shoreline. As the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and St. Paul had spread westward, the region had changed from a vacation resort to a residential community.
Now it was a playground for visitors, plus home to many who were fortunate enough to have one of the residences on the waterfront. Tessie was one of those residents living in a lake community yet having access to the city.
After knocking on her door and getting no answer, Michael reached into his pocket for his keys and let himself into the house.
“Tessie?” he called out, his voice resonating in the large, open hallway. He poked his head into the parlor, but she wasn’t sitting in her favorite chair—a rocker he’d given her for her birthday a few years back. As he crossed the foyer, an Abyssinian cat slinked across the tiled floor, meowing as she rubbed up against his legs.
He bent to scratch her neck. “Hey, Cleo. How’s life treating you?”
After a couple more meows, the cat slunk away. Michael guessed that Tessie was in the kitchen, for the aroma of pot roast tickled his nose. “Tessie?” he called out again, but still there was no answer.
He soon discovered she wasn’t busy at work preparing dinner. Although wonderful aromas permeated the kitchen, and numerous pots sat on the stove, Tessie was nowhere in sight.
The back door, however, was open. He stepped outside and made a quick survey of the yard. He saw the patio, where wicker furniture sat empty. Geraniums hung from the eaves of the gazebo, but the chairs inside were vacant. The sandy beach was empty, the bench at the end of the dock held no one. Finally he looked toward the flower garden that stretched the entire length of the yard. There he caught a glimpse of a wide-brimmed sun hat, but it slipped around the corner of the house.
“Tessie?” he called out, and the hat came back into full view.
A smiling Tessie waved her gloved hand and smiled. “Oh, you’re here already! I’ll be right there,” she called out to him, and disappeared momentarily before emerging with an armful of lilacs.
Watching her scoot across the yard caused a smile to appear on Michael’s face. For a woman of eighty-one, she was extremely agile and full of energy. Although her hair was as white as snow, there was nothing else about Tessie McFerrin that identified her as an octogenarian. She had a zest for life few women half her age possessed.
When she reached the back stoop, she motioned for him to bend so she could give him a hug and a kiss. “Happy Birthday, Michael. I’m so glad you’re spending it with me.”
“Me, too,” he told her, opening the back door for her. “Dinner smells wonderful.”
“It’s pot roast.”
He smiled. “I thought so.” She’d made it for him every year on his birthday ever since he could remember.
“It’s a lot of food for just two people,” she said as they stepped into the kitchen. “You should have brought a friend.”
“You’re the only one I want to be with on my birthday, Tessie. You know that.”
She carried the lilacs over to the sink where a cut crystal vase sat on the counter. As she filled the vase with water, she said, “Has it been a nice birthday so far?”
“Yes, I’ve had a very nice day,” he told her, which wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Just because he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday didn’t mean he should tell her that. He couldn’t tell her that, not after all the preparations she’d made. “They had a cake for me at the office.”
“I knew they were going to. Tabitha called and said they were going to throw you a surprise party, but I told her that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Thank you for saying that. You know I’m not fond of birthdays.”
She set the flowers on the dining room table. “I know. That’s why I didn’t make a cake. I made pie. Lemon meringue.”
Another of his favorites. “You shouldn’t spoil me.”
She smiled innocently as she walked past him. “You’re fun to spoil. I’m surprised some other woman hasn’t discovered that by now.”
He let the remark slip without commenting. In recent months she’d been mentioning his single status more often. Michael thought it was probably because the older she became, the more she worried about him not having someone to share his life with after she was gone.
As she tied an apron around her waist, he said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She gave him a gentle shove toward the dining room. “It’s your birthday. You sit while I dish it up. It won’t take me but a few minutes.”
“But I want to help,” he insisted.
“Then open the wine and pour us each a glass,” she instructed. “There’s a bottle of white zinfandel chilling in the dining room.”
When he walked into the dining room, he saw the wine bucket with the bottle inside. He also noticed that there were not one but two pies cooling on the sideboard. When Tessie carried in a platter of pot roast with potatoes and vegetables, he asked, “Do we each get a pie for dessert?”
“As long as I was making one I thought I might as well make two. You never know when you’ll get unexpected company,” she answered innocently.
“You didn’t invite anyone over tonight, did you?”
“Of course not,” she answered quickly, then disappeared into the kitchen again.
When she returned, she carried the bun warmer and a large bowl of salad. “I think that’s about it,” she said, untying the apron from around her waist. “Shall we sit down?”
He held her chair for her, then after she was settled, took his own spot to her right. Before eating, she reached for his hand and covered it with hers. “I feel very blessed, Michael, to be able to celebrate another birthday with you, although you should be celebrating with someone young and pretty.”
“On this day, it wouldn’t seem right to spend it anywhere but here with you.” He lifted her hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I owe you so much.”
“You don’t owe me, Michael. When love is given, it should be given freely, not with expectations of getting something in return. You’ve brought me such great joy….” she paused, as emotion choked her throat. She pulled her hand out of his and reached for the handkerchief in her pocket. “This is a happy occasion, not a sad one,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the embroidered white linen cloth. “So no more of this schmaltz. Let’s have a nice dinner together and you can tell me what your day was like at the clinic.”
Michael did use his work as dinner conversation, knowing that Tessie loved animals as much as he did. If there was one person who understood his passion for his work, it was Tessie, and she’d always encouraged him to follow his dream of becoming a vet.
It was a nice way to spend one’s birthday and the way he’d spent all of his—or at least the ones he could remember. He’d arrived at the McFerrin home when he was only four. Tessie and her husband had been taking in foster children most of their married life. Shortly before Michael had arrived, they’d decided to put their efforts into doing other types of volunteer work.
But then a friend of Tessie’s had told her about Michael. Only four years old, he needed a place to stay while his mother waited for her trial to begin. As soon as Tessie had taken one look at him, she’d convinced Frank that they should take in one more foster child. When Michael’s mother had been sentenced to a long prison term, Frank agreed with Tessie that they would provide a home for him as long as it was necessary.
Little did anyone know that Michael’s birth mother would die of pneumonia while serving her sentence. When that happened, Tessie convinced Frank to adopt Michael, since there were no other living relatives. Michael had been a McFerrin for less than a year when Frank had a massive coronary and Tessie was left to raise him alone.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” she said, raising her wineglass in the air. “To another year of good health and happiness in your work.” She clinked her glass against his, then took a sip of the wine. “Now, when you’ve finished eating, I have a surprise for you.”
“You weren’t supposed to buy me a birthday present. I don’t need anything but your love,” he said, reaching across to squeeze her hand.
She smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to say, but I happen to disagree.”
He simply returned her smile and decided to graciously accept the shirt and tie she’d probably spent an afternoon finding for him. Only he soon discovered it wasn’t a gift of clothing that she’d purchased for him. When they’d finished eating, she handed him an envelope.
“Go ahead. Open it. It won’t bite,” she teased as he hesitated.
She had such an expectant look of joy on her face, he knew he couldn’t say another word but had to simply open the card and pretend to be thrilled. He guessed it contained a gift certificate to his favorite men’s clothing store.
It didn’t. Inside was an invitation to dinner. Michael glanced at Tessie, who was watching him for his reaction. “Dinner at eight on Saturday?”
She nodded excitedly.
“But with whom?”
“That’s the surprise,” Tessie told him with a gleeful glint in her eye.
“You’ve arranged for me to have dinner with someone,” he repeated the obvious.
“Seven people, actually,” she confessed.
Puzzled, he frowned, trying to figure out what she had planned. Then it hit him. It was probably dinner with seven of the Mums, the ladies his mother met with regularly on the pretext of discussing gardening, but he knew that they were more than a garden club. They were friends. Friends who wanted to help him celebrate his birthday.
A smile slowly spread across his face. “So you are giving me a party, after all,” he said in a knowing tone.
“Oh, no. It’s not a birthday party. It’s a dinner,” she corrected him.
“By any chance is it a dinner with some lovely ladies?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Yes, it is.” She regarded him cautiously. “Did one of the girls let the secret out of the bag? Louella promised me she wouldn’t say anything when she took Toby in for his shots.”
“Louella didn’t say anything,” he reassured her.
“Then how did you know?” Now she was the one looking totally confused.
He reached across the table to pat her hand. “I didn’t. I’m just a good guesser.”
She looked a bit apologetic as she said, “It’s not what you wanted, is it?”
“It’s a lovely surprise.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. I would be happy to have dinner with you and the Mums—provided you make sure they understand that it’s not a birthday party.”
Her brows drew close together. “The Mums?”
“Yes. You said seven ladies. They are the ones you’ve arranged for me to take to dinner, right?”
She gasped. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t give you the Mums for your birthday.” Then she began to laugh and, by the time her laughter was over, she had to remove her glasses and dab at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“What’s so funny about the Mums wanting to have dinner with me?” he demanded.
“That’s not what’s so funny,” she told him. As if it was too much for her, she reached for her water glass. “It’s just that…well, they know about your birthday present and when they hear that you read the invitation and thought it was them…” Again she giggled.
“Just what is my birthday present?” he asked.
“Maybe you should finish reading your invitation.” She reached over and tapped the embossed paper with her fingernail. “You didn’t open it. You just read the front.”
Michael picked it up and flipped it open. Inside was a note that read, “Happy Birthday, Michael. I hope you appreciate the gift your mother has given you and will join us for dinner at eight.” It was signed by a woman named Claudia Dixon, Director.
Puzzled, he asked, “Director of what?”
“Dinner Date. She’s a wonderful woman. So warm and sincere. Doing business with her was a real joy.”
Uneasiness rumbled inside him. “Business? What kind of business?”
“Arranging dinners for people.”
“Then this…” He glanced at the invitation again and saw the small logo at the bottom. “This Dinner Date is a service to arrange dinners?”
“Yes. Isn’t it a lovely idea?”
“If you need help with that, then it’s probably a valuable service.” He reached over to take her hand in his. “But I wish you would have saved your money. You don’t need to arrange a dinner party for me. Your dinners are special enough for me.”
“But this isn’t about having a dinner party, Michael. It’s about meeting people.”
Suspicion began to unfurl inside him. “Who will be at this dinner exactly? If you didn’t invite the Mums, who are we going to be meeting?”
“Not we, Michael, you. You shouldn’t be spending an evening with an old lady like me. You need to be with young people,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
He closed his eyes briefly. Oh no. She’d gone and done what she’d threatened to do for the past ten years. Set him up with the eligible women in town—or at least the ones she knew about. He knew Louella had a granddaughter who was single and so did Edith Larson. And then there was the woman who’d been giving her piano lessons.
He needed to get out of this dinner, but how could he do it without hurting her feelings? “Mom, I’m going to feel a bit self-conscious if I’m the only man with seven women…” he began.
She chuckled. “Oh, you won’t be the only man. There’ll be four women and four men. Claudia knows her business.”
“What men and what women?”
“Oh, I don’t know that,” she said cheerfully.
“Wait a minute.” He straightened in his chair, uneasiness creeping along his nerves like a fog rolling in from the ocean. “How can you not know who you invited to dinner?”
“Because I didn’t invite them. Claudia did. That’s her job.”
Michael picked up the dinner invitation and looked again at the logo. It said, “Dinner Date—bringing people together.” Tessie had said there’d be four men and four women. This Claudia was bringing men and women together.
“Mother, please tell me this isn’t a dating service,” he said, a sick feeling in his stomach.
“It’s not,” she denied emphatically. “Dinner Date is an alternative to dating services. Instead of having to pay a lot of money, fill out all sorts of questionnaires, and then have someone ‘choose’ you as a prospective date, you simply go to dinner with a group of people who have similar interests as you. There’s no matchmaking at all,” she assured him quickly.
“Isn’t the whole thing a matchmaking setup?”
“No, it isn’t,” she told him. “Claudia told me she started her business so that young professionals could enjoy an evening of dinner and good conversation without any of the pressures of dating. It’s simply a way to meet other professionals your age.”
“I have plenty of friends who make great dinner companions.” It was true. He’d never lacked for female companionship. Tessie, however, didn’t know that. Just because he never brought any of his lady friends to meet her, however, didn’t mean they didn’t exist.
“I’m sure you do.” She patronized him by patting his hand. “I didn’t purchase this opportunity for you because I thought you were short of friends. I just wanted to give you a chance to meet some nice young ladies….”
“I have women friends. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I do date,” he tried to convince her, but he could see by the lift of her eyebrows and the tilt of her chin that she didn’t believe him.
“You haven’t brought a single one here to meet me,” she reminded him.
“If I bring one over does that mean you’ll get a refund from this Claudia person?”
“That’s not funny, Michael.”
He hadn’t meant it to be but didn’t have the heart to tell her that. He struggled to find the right words. “I’m not much for dinners with strangers, Mom.”
“It’s simply an opportunity to meet people with similar interests as you.”
“I don’t think I’ll meet them through some dating service.”
“You don’t know that, Michael. Louella says that her cousin Margaret’s son Dennis—you know, the one who’s the optometrist? Well, he was skeptical, just like you. But he went to Dinner Date and guess what?” She paused, waiting for him to ask what.
He didn’t.
“He met a nice young accountant and they’re planning to get married next year.”
He could feel his collar tightening. “That’s fine for Louella’s cousin’s whatever…” He trailed off impatiently. “But I like to choose my own dates.”
“This isn’t a date,” she corrected him. “It’s simply an opportunity to have dinner and meet new people.” She got to her feet to go over to the bureau. She pulled a pamphlet from the drawer and gave it to him. “Here. You can read about it for yourself.”
Michael took one look at the Dinner Date brochure and set it aside with a grimace. “I really don’t want to read about it.”
“You don’t want my gift to you?” From the look of horror on her face, Michael would have thought he’d asked her to put dear old Cleo to sleep.
He wanted to say no, that he wasn’t going to go to any arranged dinner of single people, but there was something about the look in her eyes that stopped him. He raked a hand across the back of his neck. “I hate the thought of you spending money on something like this.”
“But this is the way I want to spend my money,” she assured him. “You work far too many nights and weekends, helping this one or helping that one,” she said with a flourish of her hand in midair. “Please let me give you a nice evening out with young people your own age. Just one dinner where you can talk to others who share your interests.”
He wanted to refuse. Going to dinner with seven strangers who were looking for love through a dating service was not how he wanted to spend a Saturday evening. Yet Tessie never asked for much. She’d raised him ever since he was a small boy, giving him the love and care his own mother hadn’t been able to give to him. How could he say no?
“I really wish you hadn’t spent your money on this,” he said, tapping the side of the invitation against the table.
“It’s worth it if it makes you happy,” she said, coming over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Only it didn’t make him happy, yet he couldn’t tell her that. She’d been so excited to give him the gift. She had no idea how much he disliked the idea.
“You are going to go to the dinner, aren’t you?”
Every instinct inside him wanted him to say no, but before he could say another word, there was a knock at the door.
“I wonder who that could be?” Tessie said aloud, looking as if she knew exactly who was at the door.
Michael’s glance flew to the sideboard. “Probably someone who heard you’d baked two pies.”
She flitted out of the room. When she returned she was accompanied by half a dozen gray-haired women. The Mums had arrived.
To Michael’s dismay, they came with a gift. After greeting each of them and receiving more birthday hugs, he opened the package. Inside was a shirt and tie.
“For your dinner on Saturday,” Louella told him with a twinkle in her eye.
Michael almost said, “I’m not going to dinner on Saturday,” but the group of women gathered around him were the dearest ladies he knew. They’d been mothering him almost as long as Tessie had been.
So instead of telling them he could get a date without their help, he simply said, “Thank you. This will make me look like a man about town.”
They all smiled and ate their lemon meringue pie. Michael knew his chances of getting out of the dinner were between slim and next to none. But Lynn was going on vacation, which meant he’d be the vet on call next weekend.
Maybe there was hope.
Chapter Two
Normally the clinic was open until three on Saturdays. Oftentimes that wasn’t near long enough. Pets—like humans—frequently needed treatment on weekends after the office was closed and Michael did his best to accommodate them.
Only on this particular Saturday, business was very slow. As the hands on the clock moved toward closing time, he knew that unless an emergency arose, he wasn’t going to be able to use work as an excuse for not going to the dinner Tessie had arranged. Nor could he say he lost track of time and forgot. His mother called him at least four times to remind him of her birthday gift.
“It’s certainly been a quiet Saturday, hasn’t it?” Tabitha commented as she sprayed disinfectant over the surgical table. “Hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to have a crazy night. You are on call, right?”
Michael nodded. “Lynn’s out of town for the weekend.”
“Well, let’s hope you’re lucky and you can enjoy what’s left of yours without any interruptions.”
Little did she know that an interruption was exactly what he needed. Unsure of how to approach the subject, he said, “I was wondering if you could do me a favor this evening?”
“What kind of favor?”
“Could you page me at eight o’clock?”
“I guess, but why?” She fixed him with a perplexed stare.
“Let’s just say I’m in a bit of a predicament that I need to get out of without hurting anybody’s feelings.”
“Oh, I get it. I’ll page you and you’ll go to a phone, pretend to call and then announce to whoever it is you’re with that you have to leave. Is that it?” A sly twinkle danced in her eye.
He felt like a fool for having to ask, especially because he could see by the look on her face that she thought he’d gotten himself involved with a woman and didn’t know how to extricate himself.
He debated as to whether or not he should tell her the truth. Tabitha had been a loyal employee for six years, yet he was not naive enough to believe she didn’t talk with the other women in the office.
“That’s it. And it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. It’s…” He paused, then finally decided to take the risk, and said, “The only reason I’m asking you to do this is because of Tessie.” He went on to explain her birthday gift to him, expecting her to find it amusing.
“What a sweet thing to do. I hear dating services are very popular and a great way to meet people.”
“Then you don’t see anything wrong with using one?”
“No, not at all.” She smiled. “Although I have to admit in your case it is kind of funny that Tessie thinks you need help getting a date. Obviously she doesn’t know about…”
“No, she doesn’t. So you can see why I need you to page me at eight. I really don’t want to go to anything connected with a dating service.”
“But you can’t hurt her feelings.”
“Exactly.”
“Very well, boss. At eight o’clock I’ll ring your pager. Anything else you want before I leave?”
“I would appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone else…for Tessie’s sake, of course.”
“Of course. It’s our secret.” She made a gesture as if she had an imaginary key locking her lips.
Michael didn’t like secrets. They had a way of slipping out when one least expected it, but he was relieved he’d talked to Tabitha. Now he could put in an appearance at the dinner and make Tessie happy. He smiled to himself and patted the pager he had clipped to his belt.
Later that evening as he parked his Ford Explorer outside the popular five-star restaurant, it suddenly occurred to him that he was going to be in a very public place and might be recognized. He groaned silently. What he didn’t need was for his friends to learn that he’d gone to a dating service dinner.
He decided to stay in the car for as long as he could to avoid that possibility. He sat listening to the radio, watching other patrons go inside. Every time he saw a single man or woman, he wondered if they were one of the hopeless. For that’s how he viewed his dinner companions. Despite Tabitha’s assurances that dating services had changed and were now an acceptable option as a meeting place for singles, he couldn’t help but regard them as playgrounds of the hopeless.
He watched as the numbers on the digital clock continued to change with each passing minute until he knew he could put off the inevitable no longer. Reluctantly he climbed out of the car and went inside.
At the hostess stand, an attractive blonde wearing a very short skirt and a glittery tight top eyed him with obvious interest as he approached. “One for dinner?”
“Actually I’m meeting some people. I believe the reservation is under Claudia Dixon,” he answered, wishing he could say he was alone. Even eating alone in a fancy restaurant on a Saturday night was preferable to the ordeal he was about to endure.
“You’re with Dinner Date?” The blonde lifted one eyebrow with definite interest and her smile became even friendlier. “Claudia said she had a unique group coming in tonight, but she didn’t tell me it would have so many attractive men in it.”
“You want to join us for dinner?” Michael asked, not one to pass up an opportunity to flirt.
She gave him an equally flirtatious grin as she said, “Wish I could, but duty calls. However, maybe if you’re still here when I get off…” She let the sentence dangle.
“Maybe.” He gave her a promising smile, knowing perfectly well that he would be gone before she had time to rest her pretty little feet.
She looked down at the book in front of her. “You must be Michael.” She scribbled over his name with a pen, then looked up and gave him another smile. “Follow me and I’ll show you where everybody is.”
As he followed her swaying hips, he wished that she was going to be included in the dinner party, but then he realized that the hostess was not the kind of woman that needed anyone to find her an escort. Which only made him wonder again about the men and women who would be at this dinner.
Unsuitable was the first word that came to mind. Normally he didn’t prejudge people, but in this case, he honestly didn’t see what he would have in common with anyone who thought a dating service was necessary to find a date.
Tessie had said the men and women who used Dinner Date were professionals. Professional duds was probably a better description, he thought as each step took him closer to his destination.
“You have a very nice table in the back, very private,” the blonde told him as she escorted him through the dining area.
Michael didn’t comment, but continued to follow her until he caught a glimpse of his dinner companions. They were seated at a round table. He stopped when he saw that all of the chairs had occupants.
The hostess, however, continued toward the table, bending to say something to a woman with red hair, who immediately jumped up when she saw him.
With hand outstretched, she came toward him. “Hi. I’m Claudia Dixon. You must be Michael.”
He shook her outstretched hand, wishing he had never accepted Tessie’s gift. He should have simply told his mother that as much as he loved her, he didn’t want to have dinner with a bunch of strangers.
“Come. I’ll introduce you to the others,” Claudia said, pulling him by the arm over to the table.
The others were all thirty-something professionals who readily shook his hand and smiled warmly as he was introduced to each of them individually. Everyone was identified by first name and occupation. Michael heaved a sigh of relief when he didn’t recognize a single face.
Although all four of the women were attractive, Michael didn’t expect that he’d be asking for any phone numbers at the end of the evening. Not that he could have. As Claudia explained, if anyone wanted to pursue a friendship with any of the participants, protocol required that it be done through Dinner Date. Phone numbers would only be given out through the service and that would only happen if the other person agreed to another meeting.
Michael took his seat between two women and listened as Claudia explained that twice during the meal—after the appetizers had been served and just before dessert—the women would move over one chair in order that everyone had an opportunity to visit with everybody at the dinner. She encouraged them to get to know one another and have a pleasant evening.
“Since my work is done, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. I know you’re going to enjoy this evening and hope that you’ll recommend Dinner Date to other singles.”
Not likely, Michael thought, tempted to loosen the tie that felt as if it were choking him. He still couldn’t believe that he was here and, for the umpteenth time, wished that he hadn’t accepted Tessie’s gift. As he glanced around the table he expected that the others would look as uncomfortable as he felt.
To his surprise, however, very few looked uneasy. He wondered if it was because everyone in this room had done this type of thing before. Maybe they were used to being in a small group and having to break the ice. Or maybe they were extroverts. Or maybe they were all just really lonely and welcomed the opportunity to talk to strangers.
“Is this your first time?” Sharon, the nurse on his right, asked him.
“As a matter of fact it is,” he replied. He wanted to tell her—and the entire group—just why he was sitting at the dinner table with them. He mentally debated whether he should make an announcement, let them know his motives were not the same as theirs. What he didn’t need was for any of the women to think he was seriously looking for a mate.
Because he wasn’t.
Sharon, however, obviously was, judging by the way she was looking at him. “So you’re an animal doctor,” she said, studying him intently.
“Yes.”
“That’s probably why Claudia put us next to each other. We’re both in health care,” she said with a smile that implied they shared a secret. “What do you like to do in your free time?”
“I have very little free time,” he answered.
“Which is why it’s so hard to meet people.” She drew her own conclusion as to why he was there. “I know that feeling.”
To his relief, the appearance of a waitress preempted any further conversation. As she passed out menus and took beverage orders, Michael asked for a Scotch on the rocks.
Although the waitress didn’t bat an eyelash upon hearing his request, he could see that the others weren’t expecting him to order an alcoholic beverage. After hearing everyone else at the table order coffee, tea or a soft drink, he turned to Sharon and asked, “Are we not supposed to drink at these things?”
“Claudia puts nondrinkers together,” she answered. “Did you check the wrong box on the application form?”
He hadn’t checked any box. That was the problem. Here he was at a dinner with people who supposedly had similar interests as he did—or in this case, as Tessie thought he had. He sighed. What had she gotten him into?
Again the urge to announce to the table exactly why he was having dinner with them was great. Except what would he say? That he was only here because his mother made him come? Good grief. He was thirty-five, not thirteen. No, these people wouldn’t understand why he’d attend a dinner simply to please his mother. It was better to say nothing and stick it out until Tabitha called. Then he could beat feet out of the restaurant and never return.
If there was one thing the Scotch on the rocks had done it was to get Sharon the nurse to turn her attention to the man on her right. Michael took a sip of the amber liquid, needing the hot, burning sensation it created as he swallowed it. As he set his glass down, he noticed a pair of eyes on him.
They belonged to a woman Claudia had introduced as Cassie and held a sparkle of amusement in them. She smiled at him and said, “So tell me, what’s it like being an animal doctor, Dr. Michael?”
He liked the sound of her voice. It was low and sultry—more like something he’d find in a lounge singer. A direct contrast to the fair skin and mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes.
“Probably quite different from an artist’s life,” he answered. Before he could say another word, the man to her right interrupted, changing the subject and capturing the artist’s attention.
Michael continued to watch her, surprised by the ease with which she managed to converse with a table of strangers. His initial impression that she was rather shy had obviously been wrong. Of all the guests at the dinner, she looked as if talking with strangers was a joy, not an anxiety.
Although the man to her right tried to monopolize her attention, she managed to include several of the guests in their conversation. Michael thought both men on either side of her appeared to be a bit smitten. Not that Michael blamed them. She was like a painting. The first time you looked at her you saw a pleasant scene, but the longer you stared, the more beautiful she became.
She had a rather free-spirited look to her, with her long, straight blond hair and pale skin. Her eyes weren’t warm, yet there was something about them that begged for you to try to understand the woman behind them. She wore very little makeup compared to the woman he usually dated, but then she didn’t need any. Her skin was as smooth as the petals found on the flowers in Tessie’s garden.
Michael found himself staring at her and becoming more intrigued with each passing moment. Although there was steady conversation on his side of the table, he repeatedly found himself glancing across the table and meeting the blue eyes of Cassie, the artist. And every time he did, those eyes would regard him with a glint of amusement that made him think she knew exactly how uncomfortable he was sitting there.
Although there were moments when the conversation included all eight guests at the table, most of the talk was between people sitting next to each other. That, however, didn’t keep Michael from listening to what others said. He tuned in specifically to what Cassie was saying. She was a skillful conversationalist, saying very little about herself yet gleaning information from others. It only made him more curious about her.
Everything about her was graceful. From the way her head tilted ever so slightly on her beautiful, swanlike neck, to the manner with which she ate her escargots. He found himself wondering just what kind of art she did with those long, slender fingers. But more than that, he wondered why she was looking for love through a dating service.
As the appetizer plates were cleared away, he found himself wishing that it had been the main course they’d just finished, because the women would once more move over a chair and Cassie would be next to him. But during the main course, his pager buzzed. He realized it was eight o’clock. Tabitha was right on schedule.
Intrigued by the artist and wanting the opportunity to talk to her when she moved next to him, he didn’t call his assistant. When the last of the dinner plates had been taken away, Cassie announced that it was once again time to change places.
She took the chair next to Michael’s right and gave him the same furtive smile she’d cast his way when he’d ordered the Scotch. “So, Dr. Michael. You never did answer my question. What’s it like being an animal doctor?”
“It’s a challenge,” he answered honestly, noticing that she had a tiny dimple in one cheek that wasn’t noticeable until you were close to her. “And please, call me Mac.”
“And do you like challenges, Dr. Mac?” she asked provocatively.
“Yes. Aren’t they the spice of life?”
“No, that’s variety.”
“I like that, too,” he answered with an equally flirtatious grin. “And what about you? What’s it like being an artist?”
“It’s incredibly frustrating.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Perfection is never easy to achieve.”
“And you strive for perfection when you paint?”
“Oh, it’s not my work that is perfect. It’s my subjects. Trying to reproduce beauty is in many ways a challenge, too.”
“Then we have something in common, don’t we?”
“Professionally, anyway.”
“What about the personal Cassie? What does she like to do when she’s not meeting the frustrating challenges of capturing beauty?”
“My art is my life,” she answered with a candor that surprised him. He expected some flirtatious banter, but instead she was sincere. “That doesn’t mean I work twenty-four hours a day,” she was quick to add. “But I do tend to get so involved with a project that I lose track of time.”
“That sounds like a warning.”
She smiled, another furtive grin. “Now why would I need to warn you, Dr. Mac?”
“Maybe because you know that all evening I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to finally come sit in that chair.”
She lifted both brows in a provocative invitation. “I’m here.”
“Yes, and I’m glad.” He leaned closer to her so that only she would hear his next words. “I’ve always thought dessert was the best part of a meal.” She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound that did funny things to Michael’s insides.
“Then we have something else in common, don’t we?” she said, and picked up her fork and cut into the slice of cheesecake.
“Oh, I think we might have a quite a few things in common,” he said.
“Such as?”
“A mutual love of nature.”
“And how do you know I love nature?”
“You do, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Yes, but doesn’t everyone?”
“Not the way you and I do. Others see rain and think it’s a nuisance. You and I don’t see rain. We smell it. We taste it. We hear it. We feel it.”
“Are you sure you’re a doctor and not a poet?” She reached for her water glass. Before she could raise it to her lips, he tapped it with his. “To challenge.”
She clinked her glass against his and smiled that provocative grin of hers. “To challenge.”
He couldn’t believe how well things were going. She again asked him about his work and he entertained her with anecdotes from the clinic. It was as if the other six people ceased to exist. All he wanted was to hear that luscious, sultry voice of hers and see that sly, flirtatious smile.
Then his pager buzzed again.
“Oh-oh. Looks like Dr. Mac in on call,” she remarked.
He pushed his sport coat aside and reached for the electronic device. It was his escape route. Only now he didn’t need or want a way out of the dinner.
“I think this thing is malfunctioning,” he told her, clicking the button that revealed Tabitha’s number. “I’m getting a scrambled message.”
“Do you need to check with your service?”
“No, it’s all right. I’m sure it was nothing.” But only a few minutes later the pager buzzed again. As he read Tabitha’s number, he wondered why she hadn’t given up? Surely she could figure out that if he hadn’t answered the pager, it meant he was having a good time and didn’t need to make his escape?
“You have to go, don’t you?” Cassie said, the disappointment in her voice making it all the more difficult to leave.
He wanted to ignore the page, but he also knew that it could very well be an emergency. In all good conscience, he couldn’t disregard any attempt that might be a call for help. Reluctantly he folded his napkin and laid it on the table.
“I’d better go check and make sure this isn’t something important. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”
Instead of going out to the car to use his cell phone, he used the pay phone in the lobby. He punched in the seven digits of Tabitha’s home phone number.
He knew she had caller ID when she said, “How come you’re calling from a pay phone?”
“Because I didn’t want to bring the cell phone into the restaurant.”
“Well, for someone who was itching to get out of dinner, it sure took you a long time to answer your page.”
He didn’t want to tell her that he’d met Cassie and was no longer in a hurry to make a hasty departure from the dinner.
“Mookie’s in labor and it doesn’t look good. I think she needs a cesarean.”
Mookie was Tabitha’s mother’s schnauzer. “You’ve seen her?”
“Mom brought her over here because she was acting strange. I put her in the basement and left her alone, but it’s obvious she’s having big troubles, Mac. You’d better hurry.”
“I’m on my way,” he told her, then hung up the phone. He hurried back to the private dining room and bent so that he could speak to Cassie.
“I have to go. It’s an emergency.”
“Another challenge?”
“Yes, but I’d much prefer the one right here,” he said softly. “I’d like to get to know Cassie the artist. Maybe we could do that when there weren’t so many people around?” He could see the curious glance of Sharon the nurse and didn’t doubt for a moment that she was straining to hear every word of their private conversation.
Coyly, Cassie answered, “You know the rules, Dr. Mac.”
“Call Claudia at Dinner Date,” he stated in understanding. “You can be sure I will.” Then he made a formal apology to the group and left.
As he drove the distance to Tabitha’s home, his thoughts were of Cassie the artist. First thing Monday morning he was going to call Dinner Date. He definitely wanted to get to know her better. And judging by the way she had smiled, she wanted the same thing. Oh, Tessie was going to be happy.
“CASSIE, IT’S CLAUDIA. If you’re there, pick up.”
Normally Cassandra Carrigan didn’t answer her phone when she was in her studio, but she’d been having difficulty concentrating on her work all morning and the call was a distraction she welcomed. She set her paintbrush aside and reached for the telephone.
“I’m here. What’s up?” she asked, dispensing with the routine hello. She and Claudia had been friends far too long to worry about greetings.
“You have to quit flirting. You’re way too good at your job. I still have men calling from dinners you worked months ago.”
“I don’t flirt,” she said, smiling to herself. “I’m friendly.”
Claudia made a sound of disbelief. “You flirt and the guys love it. That’s why I’m always delighted when you say you’ll work a dinner. Tell me about Saturday night.”
“It was an interesting group,” she answered, even though her thoughts for the past two days had focused on only one interesting man in that group. Dr. Mac, the veterinarian.
He didn’t look like a vet. More like a stockbroker. Clean-cut. Intelligent brow, strong, determined nose that looked as if it may have once been broken. Wonderful smile with straight, even teeth. But it was his eyes that had caught Cassie’s attention. They were round with just a fraction of white visible below the dark iris, which showed he possessed great sensitivity.
Which she was certain he used to his advantage. He had used his charm on her and even she, with all her practice, had nearly fallen for it. She had a feeling, however, that he was just another good-looking guy looking for an ornament to dangle from his arm. She’d met quite a few of them through the dating service.
“Sounds as if everyone had a good time,” Claudia remarked.
“So you should be happy I did my job well,” she pointed out. “It’s what you want me to do, isn’t it? Keep the conversation going?”
“Yes, it is, and I know you can’t help but be your usual charming self, but this time three of the four men from Saturday night requested another meeting with you.”
“Three?” That was unusual. Maybe one or, sometimes on the rare occasion, two would request another date with her, but three? “You did tell them I don’t share their interest, right?”
“Of course I did and two of them understood, but there was one who refused to take no for an answer. He says you told him you wanted to see him again.”
“Now that I know I didn’t do,” she answered honestly. “And you know I didn’t, either. The only reason I attend the dinners is because I enjoy dining out and being with people who are interesting.”
Claudia sighed. “I don’t know how you do it, Cassie.”
“Do what?”
“Meet so many good-looking men and not get the least bit interested in any of them.”
“It’s just a job, Claudia.”
“But aren’t you even the least bit curious to hear who it is that wants to get to know you better?”
She was. The memory of Dr. Mac, the veterinarian, smiling into her face and telling her he liked a challenge popped into her head. Part of her wanted it to be him, the other part didn’t.
“I’m not interested in dating anyone. You know that.”
“I do, but I keep thinking that one of these times you’ll forget that you’re doing a job and simply enjoy yourself.”
“I do enjoy myself,” she insisted.
“So do you want to know which client won’t stop asking about you?”
Cassie groaned. “All right. Tell me.”
“It’s Michael the veterinarian.”
At the mention of his name, she felt a tiny shiver travel up and down her spine. “Oh, it was Dr. Mac,” she said more to herself than to her friend.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Maybe I did go a bit overboard with the flirting, but not once did I say I wanted to see him again. I told him what I tell all the men I meet—that if he’s interested he should contact you.”
“He took that as a yes.”
Her heart fluttered at the thought. “Then you’re going to have to convince him that it’s a no.”
“I tried to, but I didn’t have much luck. What did you do to the guy?”
“Do? I didn’t do anything,” she answered. It would have been more accurate to say that he had done something to her. Ever since Saturday night he’d been occupying her thoughts far too much of the time, which was one of the reasons for her lack of concentration this morning. In the two years she’d worked for the dating service she hadn’t met anyone who’d had that effect on her.
“What part of no doesn’t he understand?” she asked a bit impatiently.
“It’s nothing to get upset about,” Claudia said in a soothing tone. “I said he was persistent, not obsessive.”
She relaxed a bit. “You’re right. We only used our first names so it’s not like he can track me down, is it? And you’ve done background checks on all your clients.”
“That’s right. I just wanted to check with you before I throw a bucket of water on his ardor. He was rather cute, wasn’t he?”
“I’m not sure ‘cute’ is the right word,” she said evasively. “‘Charming’ would have been a better adjective. He’s a player.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. I wonder why he was at the dinner. Players usually don’t need to use a dating service to find a companion.”
Claudia didn’t comment but asked, “Are you available for next Saturday?”
“Did he ask to attend another dinner with me?”
“Of course he asked, but you know I’d never do that. I wouldn’t do it to a client and I certainly wouldn’t do it to a friend.” There was indignation in her friend’s voice.
“I’m sorry, Claudia. I know you wouldn’t. Sure, I’m available next Saturday.”
They talked for another few minutes about matters totally unrelated to Dinner Date. By the time Cassie hung up the phone, she’d forgotten all about Dr. Mac.
Which was a good thing. The only reason she’d been able to accept the job with the dating service was because she truly could attend the dinners with a sense of detachment. She had no interest in meeting a suitable companion. No interest in dating. No interest in men.
A man like Dr. Mac had the potential of being able to change all of that. As she returned to her painting she was grateful that she’d never see him again.
“MOM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Michael asked when he stepped into examining room number four and saw Tessie sitting there.
“Cleo’s not well,” she answered, nodding toward the Abyssinian that sat curled up on her lap.
“She looks okay,” he observed, lifting the purring cat from her lap.
“Oh, but she’s not. She wouldn’t eat this morning,” she answered.
“Maybe she wasn’t hungry,” he said, placing Cleo on the examining table. “We all like to skip a meal now and then.”
“Speaking of meals…” Tessie took her place next to him and watched as he did a routine exam. “You didn’t call and let me know how the dinner went on Saturday.”
So that was the true reason for the visit to the clinic. “It was fine. Just as Cleo is fine now.”
“You’re sure?”
“About the dinner or Cleo?” he quipped.
She clicked her tongue. “I know you’re a good vet. If you say Cleo is fine, she’s fine. Did you enjoy yourself at the dinner?”
“As a matter of fact I did,” he answered, reaching for a cat treat.
He watched his mother’s eyes light up at the thought. She smiled smugly and said, “I knew you would.”
“They served the most wonderful coq au vin. You would have loved it. The mushroom sauce was exquisite, prepared just the way you like it. And they had those little baby carrots in a wine sauce and escargots…you know how much I like escargots.”
She fluttered her fingers nervously in midair. “I don’t care about the food. Tell me about the people. Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“There was a very nice engineer who’d worked on that new overpass on the interstate right outside of downtown, you know, the one that opened in April. He had some very interesting observations.”
Again her fingers flailed about in midair. “I don’t care about the men at the dinner, Michael. Tell me about the women.”
He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. They were nice.”
She frowned. “Is that all you can find to say about them? They were nice?”
“Actually, there was one who was very nice.” His mouth automatically split into a grin at the memory of Cassie the artist.
“Nice enough that you might have dinner with her again?”
He’d been debating whether or not he should tell her about Cassie the artist. Now that the opportunity had arrived, he decided the less said the better. “No. It was a very nice evening and I thank you.”
“But what about the four women? They didn’t share your interests?”
Again he thought of Cassie. “Not exactly,” he hedged. “Did you ever think that maybe none of them were attracted to me?”
Tessie gasped. “That’s impossible! Look at you. You’re the complete package.”
He couldn’t help but smile again, this time at her maternal defense of him. “Not everyone sees me through your eyes, Mom.”
“I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother. Ask any of the Mums, they’ll say the same thing.” She shook her head in bemusement. “What is wrong with the youth of today? When a handsome young man like you has trouble getting a date…”
“I can find a date,” he assured her.
She dismissed his comment with a flap of her hand. “You don’t need to pretend with me. I know that you spend a lot of your free time alone.”
Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t been completely honest with Tessie over the years. He wasn’t often without female companionship, yet Tessie was unaware of his love life. He’d deliberately kept it that way, because he hadn’t wanted her getting attached to any of the women in his life, because he knew none of them would last.
“Mom, there are other places to meet women than through a dating service,” he said gently.
“I know that, dear, but I had hoped that my gift would be a lasting one,” she said on a sigh. “You’re thirty-five, Michael, and I’m eighty-one. Time is running out.”
He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “Now you stop your worrying. We have plenty of time—both of us. Your birthday gift was unique and I haven’t given up on finding a special lady.”
She pushed him away. “You haven’t?”
“No. If there’s someone out there for me, I’ll find her. You know that.”
“You always have loved a challenge, haven’t you?” she said with a knowing grin.
Yes, he did, and he didn’t consider this one to be over yet.
Chapter Three
“We’ll discuss old business first,” Louella Gibbons addressed the Mums gathered around Betty Jean’s dining room table. “We’ll start with Dr. Mac, since Tessie has to leave early for a dentist appointment.”
“Thank you, Lou.” Tessie rose to her feet, clearing her throat. “By now you all know we didn’t get the desired results we hoped for with Dinner Date.”
The chorus of groans indicated that everyone was as disappointed as Tessie.
“Maybe we should try another one?” Edith suggested.
Tessie shook her head. “It’s not cost-effective. We need another plan.”
“I agree,” Mildred spoke up. “We are better matchmakers than those dating services. I say we make up our own list of eligible young ladies and do our own matchmaking.”
Several comments supporting Mildred’s suggestion came at once.
Louella clapped her gavel. “One at a time, ladies, please.”
“I think Mildred’s right,” Agnes said. “That’s what we did for Francine’s granddaughter and look at those results.”
“She’s happily married and expecting a baby and all because we sent her on a blind date with Betty Jean’s cousin’s grandson,” Louella stated.
“But Michael refuses to go on a blind date,” Tessie pointed out.
“Then we’ll just have to get to know this girl ourselves and invite her to a Mum gathering that Michael plans to attend,” Edith stated simply, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to orchestrate.
“Do we have a young lady in mind?” Louella asked.
“I do,” Dorothy Sandberg said with a furtive twinkle in her eye. “Her name is…”
“IT IS AN HONOR to have such a beautiful display of art in our center.”
Cassie accepted the compliment graciously, smiling at the gray-haired gentleman. “I am the one who is honored, Emmet. I can’t think of a better place to exhibit my work.”
“But you could have gone to any of the galleries in town and had your opening. For you to allow us to show these beautiful portraits here…well, it is very good for the center.”
“And you have been good to me,” she acknowledged, appreciating the assistance the director of the senior citizen center had given her. From helping her find models to sit for her portraits to making the arrangements so that she could exhibit her work at the center, Emmet Sandberg had done everything he could to help her turn her dream into a reality.
“I’ve been looking at these pictures all morning and I still haven’t gotten tired of looking at them,” he told her, his eyes making another survey of the room.
The pictures he referred to were portraits sketched by Cassie. Eighteen pastels of married couples. Two sketches—one as newlyweds, the other as they currently were in the golden years of their marriages. She’d titled the exhibit “Everlasting Love.”
“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest compliments I could receive,” she said sincerely.
“Did you know that when you add up the total number of years all of these people have been married, it comes to exactly one thousand?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but said, “Dorothy figured it out.”
Dorothy was the woman in portrait number four, Emmet’s wife of fifty-one years. At first she had been a bit reticent about posing for Cassie, but after sitting down to coffee and doughnuts and discovering that Cassie’s grandmother had belonged to the same Sons of Norway lodge as Emmet and Dorothy, she’d become one of her staunchest supporters.
“You could have called this ‘A Millennium of Love,’” Emmet continued. “Wouldn’t that have been a great title?”
“It certainly would be accurate, wouldn’t it?” she answered. She didn’t tell him that Dorothy had suggested the very same thing and on more than one occasion. With all the hype that had preceded the turn of the century, Cassie hadn’t wanted to use the word millennium in connection with her work.
“These portraits aren’t just about numbers,” she told Emmet. “They’re about people who have worked hard to keep marriages intact through loss and suffering. The faces in these pictures have had great joy, but they’ve also lived through wars and economic hardship. And despite all the social and political turmoil of the past century, their love has lasted.”
“Ah, that is so true,” he said, a gnarly finger propped against his chin as he studied the portrait of a couple who’d been married seventy-two years. “With those colored chalks of yours, you tell so much. The love, the joy, the wisdom…it’s all there.” He took several steps to his left until he stood in front of his own portrait. “I mean, look at my Dorothy. When I look at the picture it’s almost as if I can hear her saying ‘Everything’s going to be all right, Emmet.’ You have a gift, Cassandra. You show the best of people.”
“I only draw what I see,” Cassie told him. “The emotions expressed here are not mine. I’m just the instrument for showing who these people really are, and each one is someone very special.”
“And I thank you for showing that to the world. Not many people would devote an entire exhibit of art to old people.”
“Well, I did, and I’m very glad that I took the time to get to know these wonderful married couples.” She spread her arms in an encompassing gesture. “They are my tribute to aging and to love that endures the test of time.”
She again surveyed the room, appreciating the lighting and the spacing of her portraits. Even though the center wasn’t an art gallery, the staff had constructed a very elegant and artistic display of her work. It reinforced her decision to have the opening at the center rather than in an art gallery.
“You did a wonderful job arranging the portraits, Emmet,” she complimented the older man.
He smiled. “I had help. My sister used to work at the Walker. Of course, she’s retired now, but she has a good eye, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do. I’d like to meet her. Will she be here tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, she will. And so will lots of other people. It’s going to be a wonderful opening.”
“I’m sure it will be.” Cassie had a rush of nervous excitement at the thought of a project so dear to her heart finally being ready for public display. “What time would you like me to be here?”
“Maybe an hour before opening…would that work for you? We’ve invited all of the married couples in the pictures to come early so they can see the exhibit before it’s open to the public.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”
“And they will be delighted to see you. Will you be bringing a guest?”
“Yes, I will. A friend of mine.”
“Might I ask this friend’s name…for a name tag, of course,” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Her name is Claudia,” Cassie answered, knowing perfectly well that Emmet was curious to know if she had a special man in her life. Every time she had sat down to begin another portrait, it never failed. She was asked the same question, “Are you married?”
And when she’d say that she wasn’t, she’d get a similar response, something like, “I can’t believe a beautiful girl like you is still single.”
Then she’d mention that she was a widow and the bemusement would turn to sympathy, producing comments such as, “Oh, you poor girl…to have loved and to have lost…he wouldn’t want you to be alone the rest of your life.”
Emmet and Dorothy had been no different from the other seniors and she suspected that Emmet’s curiosity about her guest this evening was spurred by his wife’s interest. Something that was confirmed by his next statement.
“You’re bringing a girlfriend.” He sighed. “Dorothy will be disappointed. She’d hoped that by the time all of the portraits were finished you’d have a young man and your next exhibit might be newlywed love.”
“No, I’m afraid I have no such plans,” she said with an apologetic smile.
He reached for her hand. “Not to worry. You’re young. You have plenty of time to make plans,” he said consolingly.
Cassie didn’t need to be consoled. She wasn’t pining after her dead husband, nor was she longing for a second chance at love. She was comfortable with her single status, which was probably why she found the “Everlasting Love” project so fascinating. In an era when so many marriages failed, it was refreshing to work with those that had remained solidly intact for more than fifty years.
“I’d like to say maybe you’ll meet some nice young man here tonight at the opening, but our guests this evening will probably all be senior citizens,” Emmet told her with a look of regret.
“I can’t think of a nicer group of people to share my work with on opening night,” she remarked. She was grateful when he was paged by the office to take a phone call and the subject of her personal life could be set aside. Cassie gave him another smile, assured him she’d be on time this evening and waved goodbye.
While he was gone, she went over to the portrait with the number one beside it. It was of her own grandparents, William and Mary Carrigan. Little had she known at the time she had drawn them that it would be the inspiration for an entire project.
She looked at the happy faces smiling at her and felt all warm inside. They were such dear people and, like the others, happily married for over half a century.
“Sharing. That’s the key to staying married,” her grandfather had told her on more than one occasion. “Never keep anything from each other. You must be best friends and share everything.”
Cassie sighed. She’d followed that advice during her short marriage to Darryl. Unfortunately, he hadn’t. A tiny stinging sensation erupted in her chest and she determinedly pushed such thoughts aside.
No point in thinking about the past. It was gone. So was Darryl. She was happy. She had a life—not the life that these senior citizens in her portraits had, but a good, fulfilling life.
As she gave one last glance to the exhibit, she told herself that everlasting love was wonderful—for some people. But not everyone.
Not her. She sighed, then went home to shower and put on her opening night dress.
“DR. MAC, I HAVE that information you wanted.” Tabitha handed him a small stack of papers. “Here’s a listing of the art galleries in Minneapolis and St. Paul and their current exhibits by local artists.”
“I didn’t realize there’d be so many,” he said, leafing through the stack. “Thank you. I’m sure this will be very helpful. I only hope it didn’t take up too much of your time.”
“Actually, it did, but if you clue me in on why you need this information, I’ll forgive you,” she said with an impish grin.
Michael debated just how much he should tell his assistant. “I’m looking for a particular artist, that’s all.”
“Would this be a female artist by chance?” He grinned. “As a matter of fact, it is. Satisfied?”
“So you want to go see her work, is that it?”
“I am curious to see it, yes,” he admitted. “If you had given me her name, I could have eliminated all the paperwork,” she said, nodding to the stack of computer paper on his desk.
“That’s just it. I don’t know her name.” Tabitha put her hands on her hips. “Then how do you expect to find her?”
“Looking at this list, I’m not sure I will.”
“Well, good luck. And if you need any more help, just let me know,” she said with a cheerful wave before shutting the door on her way out.
Michael was tempted to ask her assistance in his search for Cassie, but he figured the less he said about the artist, the more unlikely it was anyone would discover he’d met her at the dating service dinner. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t made such a fuss about being an unwilling participant, telling Tabitha he only attended the dinner because he hadn’t wanted to hurt Tessie.
His assistant had asked him about his evening out the following Monday morning. She’d listened intently as he’d given as brief an explanation as was possible, saying that although it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, it wasn’t the way he wanted to meet women. Then he’d waited a couple of days before asking about the art galleries, not wanting Tabitha to question why he suddenly had an interest in art.
He didn’t. He’d always been a science guy, needing things to be concrete, not abstract. Which was why it was probably foolish of him to be entertaining thoughts that he and this Cassie could enjoy more than a couple of glasses of wine and some titillating conversation.
But he did entertain such thoughts. Ever since the dinner, she’d been on his mind often—which really had him perplexed. He wasn’t one to fall head over heels for a woman at the first meeting—certainly it had never happened to him before. Maybe his fascination with her had to do with the fact that Cassie wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe if she hadn’t told Claudia Dixon to blow him off, he wouldn’t now, six days later, be trying to figure out how to find her.
But he was trying to locate her. That’s why he’d had Tabitha go on the Internet and get a listing of the local art galleries. He hoped to find a Cassie among the names, but when he’d read through all of the pages without any success, he decided it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
For all he knew, she might have been a starving artist—and a not very good one at that. Maybe she’d never shown her work. Or maybe she only talked about being an artist but hadn’t actually created a single work of art. He threw the computer printout into a desk drawer.
He needed to forget about Cassie the artist. Meeting a woman through a dating service was not his idea of romance anyway. And he didn’t want his mother to get any more ideas on the subject, which meant there was something he had to do. He unlocked the center drawer on his desk and pulled it open. The only item inside was a black book.
He picked it up and flipped through the alphabet until he came to the ‘T’ section. When Rebecca Tollefson dated a guy, she made sure everyone around knew he was her possession. The thought made him shiver. Still he picked up the phone and dialed her number.
“Rebecca, Mac.”
After a throaty chuckle of delight, which conjured up all sorts of provocative images in his mind, she said, “I’m so glad you called. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“Now how could I do that? You’ve been on my mind a lot lately and I was wondering, are you free on Sunday?”
AFTER A BUSY WEEK at the clinic that had included several emergencies, which had robbed him of sleep on three out of the past six nights, Michael was not in the best of moods on Sunday when he picked up Rebecca. It didn’t help that she wanted to spend the day in the city and would have been perfectly content not to leave his place.
The city was not where he wanted to spend his afternoon. Ever since he’d graduated from college he’d lived alone in a condominium the real estate agent had called the perfect residence for the young professional. It was in a high-rise that gave him a spectacular view of the metropolitan area and easy access to the clinic and its patients. It also had its own health club, tennis courts and swimming pool.
Rebecca saw no reason to leave the complex when they had everything they needed at their fingertips. Not even when Michael told her that he wanted to take her to the lake so that she could meet his mother did she change her mind. It was only after much cajoling and the promise that they would later return to the nightclub just around the corner that she agreed to spend the afternoon at Tessie’s.
As he pulled into the long, winding driveway leading to the house, Rebecca said, “This is quaint, isn’t it?”
Michael didn’t comment, but hoped that when she stepped inside the house she wouldn’t remark on how old the house was. It wasn’t the fanciest of houses, but it was the one he’d called home ever since he could remember. He loved its high ceilings and varnished wood floors. He also knew that no matter what day of the week or what time of day it was, Tessie would welcome him with open arms. Whether she would welcome Rebecca was anyone’s guess.
Although he didn’t like the idea of allowing his mother to believe that Rebecca was anything other than a woman he occasionally dated, he knew that if he was going to get Tessie to stop her matchmaking, he needed to convince her that he was getting serious about Rebecca. Only he soon discovered that Tessie was nowhere in sight.
Rebecca could only pierce him with one of her “I told you I didn’t want to come” stares and said, “Guess you should have called first.”
“She’s always home on Sundays,” he said, walking around to the side of the house, where he peeked into a small window in the garage. “Her car’s here.” He followed the sidewalk to the back of the house. She wasn’t in the garden, nor sitting on the patio, nor rocking in her wicker chair in the gazebo.
“You looking for Tessie?”
Michael glanced across the honeysuckle hedge to see Otto, the next-door neighbor and husband to one of the Mums, sprinkling his garden. “Have you seen her today?” he asked the balding gentleman.
“Sure did. She took off with a couple of the Mums right after church. Nan said they were going to the senior citizen center. Apparently they have some big doings going on over there, but Nan and I couldn’t go. We’re baby-sitting the grandkids.”
“Thanks.” Michael acknowledged the information with a wave of his hand, then turned to Rebecca, who stood tapping her foot near the Explorer. She’d heard every word of his conversation with Otto so he didn’t have to repeat it.
“Does that mean we can leave?” she asked, impatience twisting her lovely features into a scowl.
He hadn’t put up with Rebecca for this long to give up on his plan because of a little detour. “If I know Tessie, she won’t stay away very long on a beautiful day like this.”
“You want to wait for her to come home?”
It was obvious that Rebecca didn’t. “It’s not as if there isn’t anything to do,” he said with as charming a smile as he could muster. He nodded to her small designer cloth bag. “Put your suit on and we’ll go for a swim.”
She wrinkled her nose. “In the lake?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because it’s dirty, for one thing.”
“It’s perfectly safe for swimming, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“The last time I swam in a lake I cut my foot on a rusty beer can.”
“This is private property and I know for a fact that Tessie doesn’t drink beer.”
“But what about the creepy crawly things…oh, and those slimy black leeches?” She practically shivered at the thought. “And the bottom’s probably full of yuck.”
“There are a few weeds, but all the home owners in this bay have the beach raked for weeds every summer.” She didn’t look convinced so he said, “What about going for a boat ride?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pamela-bauer/the-marriage-portrait/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.