by June Faver
“Stir-fried rice with shrimp. One of my favorites.”
“Oh, gimme some of that one.”
He obliged, scooping a generous serving onto her plate. He was pleased that Reggie was open to new experiences. Glad she was on his turf for a change. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, glad he was on his own turf and feeling less like he had to prove himself every day.
“What are we doing this afternoon?” she asked.
“I thought it was time we buckled down to business. We’re going to the Design Center. I’m looking forward to having you redecorate my house.”
Reggie rubbed her palms together. “Not as much as I am. I love your house. When I was younger, I used to pretend it was my home.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded, stuffing another shrimp into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “When Miss Rosie would invite me to visit, I would soak up every molecule of my surroundings. I loved the beveled glass and lace curtains. I coveted the damask Queen Anne chairs and doilies.” She glanced up at him. “I suppose that sounds crazy.”
“Not at all. I’m trusting you not to let me screw this up.” He tried to look needy. “You know I have absolutely zero talent for this sort of thing.”
Her lips curved into a wide grin. “Oh, yes. You can trust me. I wouldn’t do anything to wreck the Grady house. It’s my dream house.”
“And you know all about Victorian house decor… Right?”
“Right. I’ve studied all about Victorian architecture and interiors. That’s my favorite style.” She reached across the table to grasp his hand. “Please believe me. I can do this.”
He placed his other hand on top of hers. “Believe me when I say I trust you implicitly. My house and I are completely at your mercy.”
* * *
After their lunch, Frank hailed a taxi and loaded Reggie inside. The odors of the many people who had preceded her worked on her gag reflex. Ugh!
She couldn’t recall ever having ridden in a taxi prior to her foray into New York City. She accepted that this form of transportation might be quite useful in big cities, especially those with huge populations crammed into a relatively small footprint.
Houston or Dallas had large populations, but area-wise, both cities took up quite a bit of real estate. They were so spread out, she couldn’t imagine how ordinary citizens could afford taxi fare across either city. Perhaps this was why there were so many cars and trucks in Texas…and freeways.
Frank slid in beside her and spoke to the driver. “Two hundred Lex.”
“Lex? What are lexes, and why do we need so many?”
He grinned. “Lexington Boulevard. The Design Center. That’s the address. It’s famous.”
Reggie felt a blush creep up her neck. He must think I’m a complete redneck hick. She resolved to try and keep her dumb questions to a minimum.
Frank reached for her hand and cradled it in both of his. It felt good. It felt normal. Just Frank and Reggie Lee…normal people.
She realized she was holding her breath and made an effort to take in air without gasping. Slow and easy. Normal.
“Here we are,” he crooned as the taxi slowed. He tossed a bill toward the driver, opened the door, and extended his hand. “Time to shine.”
Reggie placed her hand in his and climbed out of the taxi. Tilting her head back, she regarded the Design Center towering above her. “Oh, my. That is one tall building. Is it all part of the Design Center?”
Frank tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and gestured to the gleaming structure. “You bet. There are sixteen stories and over five hundred thousand square feet. This building houses almost one hundred different showrooms.”
“And you just happen to have those facts memorized?”
He opened one of the doors for her. “Nope. I wanted to impress you, so I looked it up.”
They spent the next few hours meandering from showroom to showroom. Frank had made a list of those specializing in Victorian classics and historically accurate furnishings and decorations. He seemed to have thought of everything.
Reggie was overwhelmed at first. The profusion of colors, fabrics, and patterns swirled around in her brain. “Oh, I’m confused. Where did we see that drapery fabric I liked so much?”
“Victorian R Us,” Frank supplied. “You have a sample in your bag.”
“Oh, that’s right. They gave me a swatch and stapled their card to it. And I liked the breakfront they had.”
He nodded. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”
“No, seriously,” she said. “There is just too much stuff here.”
A one-sided grin twerked his face. “That’s why it’s called shopping. Take all the samples and brochures and photos you want. We’ll simply take them home and you get to decide what works best. It’s all up to you, but there’s no deadline.”
Reggie released a pent-up breath. “Right. We’re shopping.”
“And we’re good at it.” He gave her a wink.
* * *
“Henry?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Yes, this is Henry Stafford.” He didn’t recognize the voice right off, but it sounded vaguely familiar.
“It’s Sandy.” Her voice was soft and sounded insecure.
“Yeah, Sandy. What can I do for you?”
There was a long silence. “I—I don’t know, exactly. I guess I was just having a real case of the blues.” She took in a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s such a big and empty house, and I…”
“Aw…I understand. I know what it means to be lonely.”
“I—I hope it’s not too late for me to be calling.”
Henry was in bed. He had gone to sleep early after putting his granddaughter to bed with a bedtime story. “No…not at all.”
She made a noise that wasn’t quite like crying, and yet it was quite pitiful.
Henry sat up and turned on the bedside light. He reached for the digital clock on the table beside his bed. Eleven p.m.
“Um…how are you and Lolly doing? You ladies having a good time in the big ol’ city of Houston?”
“Oh, we’re all right. Just hanging around the house…but some days there just doesn’t seem to be any reason to get out of bed in the morning.”
Henry put his bare feet on the cool polished-wood floor. This brought him fully awake. “You really sound sad. I’m sorry, Sandy.”
“Weren’t you sad and lonely after your wife passed away?”
Henry considered this question. He had been miserably lonely…still was. He swallowed hard. “Sure. I was lonely. I missed her every moment of the day, and nights were even worse.”
She was definitely crying softly now. “How did you get through it?”
The major difference between Henry’s situation as a widower and what Sandy was facing at the moment was that he had a daughter…and his daughter had married a worthless asshole. In the aftermath of his wife’s passing, his daughter had given birth and been abandoned, so he had been busy. His grief was interwoven with rage against the man who had hurt his beloved daughter.
“Well…I had my daughter and granddaughter to think of, so I spent a lot of my time with them. We pulled together to get through it.”
In truth, he wondered if he would ever get through the pain of losing his life partner. “But I still miss her and think about her. It’s sad that she isn’t here to spoil our granddaughter. Everything that Shannon does, each and every new phase brings me great joy, but there is a core of sadness that my wife is not here to appreciate the great job our daughter is doing in raising her.”
“You’re so fortunate to have a family.”
Henry considered the sad woman on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry you don’t have the support of family, but there are lots of things you could do.”
“Oh?”
Henry sens
ed that his next words would be important. He cleared his throat. “I’m not suggesting that you’re being selfish…but you might want to look around and see if there is someone else who needs you. You know, volunteer. Houston is a big city, but even here in this little town we have an old folks home, and those people really love to get a visit. There’s an animal shelter, and I have a friend who just goes to play with the dogs. He says it makes them more adoptable if they are used to playing.”
“I guess…”
“And another friend of mine goes to the veterans’ hospital in San Antonio and reads to some of the patients who may have lost their sight.” He paused, but there was only silence on the other end of the line. “I know it’s a lot to consider.”
Sandy squeaked out a sob. “It is. I—I really wouldn’t know how to begin finding something like that.”
“How about your church? We never talked about religion, but if you go to services, I’ll bet your minister could give you some great suggestions.” He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
“I suppose so.”
“Sandy, honey. It’s all about being needed.”
She sobbed quietly for a while, and he was silent. “Sorry. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“You have a right. Where is Lolly? How about you two girls get into some trouble?”
There was a deep sigh. “Lolly has gone to visit her daughter and her family in Galveston. It’s the older grandchild’s birthday, and Lolly wanted to spend some time with her precious ones… I don’t blame her.”
Henry shook his head. “No, family has to come first.” He cringed for saying that when he knew Sandy was childless. “I mean…I can understand why she wants to spend time with them. I feel that way about my little granddaughter. It seems like I blink and she’s growing up on me.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“What are your hobbies, Sandy? Surely there’s something you enjoy doing.”
She heaved another sigh. “Art. I used to do a little painting…and photography.”
“What else?”
“Travel. My husband and I loved to travel.”
“Now that sounds like fun. Why don’t you and Lolly visit a travel agent and maybe take one of those cruises? Aren’t there some cruise ships just for single people?”
“Yes. Good idea.” Her voice sounded brighter. “I’ll bet Lolly would go with me.”
Henry had checked on Shannon and then wandered back to his bedroom. “There you go. You’ll have a great time.”
“Thank you, Henry. I was so down in the dumps. I appreciate you for lifting my spirits.”
“Not a problem, Sandy. That’s what friends are for.” He sat down on the edge of his bed.
“Is it all right if I call you again sometime?”
“Sandy, honey, you can call me anytime the mood strikes you…and you are coming to our classic car show, aren’t you?”
She laughed. The sound was a huge departure from the sad person he’d first spoken to. “You bet we’ll be there. Lolly and me.”
“Glad to hear it. You be good and look into some of your former activities. Maybe you can take an art class…”
“Yes, sir. I’ll look into them first thing in the morning. ’Night, Henry.” She disconnected, leaving Henry feeling as though he had made a real difference in someone’s life. He was right. It was all about being needed.
* * *
Back at the hotel, Frank watched Reggie as she spread her hoard of swatches and booklets on the bed.
“Oh, I feel so rich.” She clapped her hands and turned to face him. “Thank you so much for trusting me with this project.”
“Trust you?” He made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. “You’re doing me a favor.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “And you knew Aunt Rosie. You’re helping to preserve the Grady house, and you know it was close to her heart. So you’re honoring my great-aunt as well.”
She gave a little squeal of delight. “I am. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I want to think Miss Rosie would approve.”
Her expression tugged at his heart. He swallowed hard, and his voice was husky. “Aunt Rosie would be proud of you.”
That evening, he took her to dinner in yet another new dress. This one was a deep chocolate-brown that complemented her creamy skin tone and luminous brown eyes.
He had to fight the urge to peel her out of the dress and order room service. But he took a deep breath and complimented her instead.
“You really like the dress?” She turned around in a circle.
“Yes, I do.” And I love what’s in it.
That thought caused him to take a step back. I love her. It’s true. I love her.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to one of my favorite restaurants, and then I thought we might go to a little club and dance.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. I haven’t been dancing since high school. I’m not sure I remember how.”
He stroked the side of her face. “I’ll bet it will come back to you.”
She blinked, glancing down. “I—I hope so. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
Frank’s chest tightened. He pulled her to him, pressing her against his chest. “You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried. I’ll always be proud to be with you.”
His declaration seemed to fluster her, but she looked pleased.
He had arranged for a limo to transport them. There was a line at the restaurant, but they were instantly shown to one of the best tables. The wine steward had just left when he heard a shriek.
“Frank Bell! Honey, it’s Frank Bell.”
He turned to see a woman who had bought a restaurant from him. He stood to greet her. “Mrs. Harwell. It’s so good to see you again.”
A fiftyish woman leaned in for a hug. “We’re celebrating our thirty-fifth anniversary and decided on a night out. You remember my husband, Gerald, don’t you?” She gestured to the balding man behind her, who raised his hand in a friendly wave.
“Of course. How are you, Mr. Harwell?” He shook the man’s hand.
Mrs. Harwell’s eyes lit on Reggie. “And who is this lovely creature?”
Frank grinned. “This is Reggie Lee Stafford, my—” He paused. My what?
But Mrs. Harwell rushed to give Reggie a hug and was babbling at her. “We thought we were ready to retire, but Frank let us buy his sweet little restaurant upstate. We’re having so much fun with it.”
“Won’t you join us?” Frank offered, but she waved him off.
“Oh, we’ve already eaten. We’re going to see a musical on Broadway.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Reggie said.
He realized he should have gotten tickets to a Broadway play…something light and uplifting…a musical perhaps. Reggie would have enjoyed that. Next time…
The Harwells left the restaurant, and Frank took his seat.
“They were nice.” Reggie leaned toward him. “You sold them a restaurant?”
He nodded. “I bought a small eatery from a widow who was anxious to unload it. I fixed it up a little. Updated the interior and exterior. Then I changed the menu. It was fun.”
Reggie’s brows lifted. “But you didn’t keep it?”
He shook his head. “I never intended to keep it. The challenge was in taking a run-down restaurant and turning it into a first-class eatery. Fortunately, the Harwells took it off my hands.”
She was strangely silent, her lips tightening a bit. She released a sigh and straightened the napkin in her lap, seemingly reluctant to meet his eye.
Puzzled, he’d thought she would have considered his venture a brilliant investment and praised him for his clever business acumen.
The wine steward returned, bearing a bottle of wine wrapped in a linen napkin.
He removed the cork and poured a bit into Frank’s flute before taking a step back. He gazed at Frank expectantly.
Frank took a sip and gestured for him to fill Reggie’s flute and then top off his own. When the steward had gone, Frank raised his flute. “To the most beautiful woman in the room. I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
She blushed but touched the rim of her flute to his. “Thank you, Frank.”
They dined on crab, haricots verts, and rice pilaf. She seemed to like the cuisine but declined the offer of dessert.
“None for me, thanks. I’m stuffed. I’ve probably put on five pounds.”
“Then we’d better dance it off.”
He escorted her to the waiting limo, and in a very short time they arrived at a club in Soho.
The bouncers at the door greeted him. “Mr. Bell. Good to see you, sir.”
Frank nodded at them and led Reggie inside.
The club was noisy. A band was ripping out deafening music onstage, while the dance floor was crammed with gyrating dancers. Others were seated at tiny tables dispersed around the room, talking loudly to be heard, while bartenders and waitresses clinked glassware.
“Hey, Frank!”
He was hailed from the dance floor, where a few people he knew casually raised a hand to acknowledge him. He nodded and lifted a hand in return.
“They know you here.” Reggie turned to him uncertainly.
“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times.” He felt uncomfortable for a moment, but she smiled.
“Nice.”
“Let’s grab that table and then we can dance.”
“Frank.” She took his hand. “Thanks for making this trip so special for me. I’m having a great time.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her. “My pleasure. I’m having a great time too.”
“Then let’s dance. This is my last night in the city, and then it’s back to real life.”
Real life… Yeah, there’s that. He plastered on a smile and nodded, leading her through the crushing crowd and into the dancing mob. He arranged himself where he could give her some protection from the overzealous flailing of arms and legs.
She was grinning and moving to the music, timidly at first and then with more confidence. Her natural grace took over, and she closed her eyes, letting the rhythm transport her.