This Matter of Marriage

by Debbie Macomber

  Four

  First There Was Paul, Then George…

  Steve glanced at his watch again, although he knew it’d been maybe five minutes since the last time he’d looked. He was wrong. It was three minutes. Almost five o’clock Sunday afternoon and Mary Lynn was late picking up the kids, which could mean only one thing.

  She was with this faceless, spineless Kip character.

  Steve had gotten his ex-wife to admit she was dating again. That was the reason she’d cut him off physically, although she’d been reluctant to admit it. Probably wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t cornered her. It left him wondering whether she was sleeping with Kip, but for reasons having to do with his sanity, he didn’t pursue the thought. If she was, he didn’t want to know.

  As for his idea about using Mary Lynn as a replacement secretary, it didn’t turn out to be so brilliant, after all. Mary Lynn was ten times worse in the office than Danielle had ever been. He knew she wasn’t much good around a computer terminal, but he hadn’t realized she didn’t know how to answer a phone. Another few days with her and he’d be out of business. She’d filed invoices, instead of mailing them, and managed to insult one of his biggest accounts. It didn’t take Steve long to recognize his mistake. He quickly hired a new secretary, wrote Mary Lynn a generous check for her trouble and took her to lunch. While still in her good graces, he followed her home, thinking—despite her telling him the sex had to stop—that they’d head for the bedroom the way they normally did when he dropped by in the middle of the day.

  But she’d meant it when she’d said no sex. And she’d also told him she was seeing Kip.

  Once he’d persuaded her to confess she was dating again, he couldn’t shut her up. She’d met Kip in a bookstore, she told him, smiling at the memory. Steve knew his ex, and she’d never been a reader, which was probably a detriment when it came to school. He couldn’t imagine her buying books for pleasure, something she considered a waste of money. It was clear that her sudden interest in them had nothing to do with enjoyment. Mary Lynn had been looking to meet eligible men. Steve had heard that the singles scene had moved out of the bars and into the bookstores; he supposed this proved it.

  Although she’d been more than willing to tell him about meeting the new love of her life, Mary Lynn had kept quiet about what they did together. Curious he might be, but Steve refused to grill his children about their mother’s activities. His gaze shifted to the two kids. Meagan and Kenny were curled up in front of the television watching a Disney video. Neither seemed to notice or care that their mother was late.

  He stared out his living-room window. His neighbor was outside vacuuming her car, and he smiled, remembering her embarrassment when she realized he knew she’d been talking to Dateline. So Hallie McCarthy was on the prowl. He wished her well. As far as he could see, she shouldn’t have much of a problem finding a husband. She was actually kinda cute. Petite with dark brown hair that she wore in short curls. She had a nice face, and she seemed friendly, approachable. Certainly Meagan had taken to her right away. Hallie was just fine in the figure department, too.

  He wasn’t sure where she worked, but it must be in an office. They’d crossed paths a couple of times in the mornings, and she always maintained a professional appearance. He guessed her to be in her mid to late twenties. Possibly thirty, but he doubted it.

  If he had any interest in dating, which he didn’t, Steve would be more attracted to her friend. Now there was a looker. He’d been outside, horsing around with Kenny, when she’d arrived, and he’d practically dropped the ball. The woman was all legs. They went on and on. Shapely legs with a body to match. But Mary Lynn was beautiful, too. With his thoughts back on his ex-wife, Steve moved away from the window.

  “Your mother’s late,” he said, hoping he sounded casual and unconcerned.

  “Kip’s taking her to a wine-tasting party,” Meagan murmured. Her eyes grew huge, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t.

  “It’s okay. Your mother told me she was dating Kip.” Steve didn’t want his children worrying about what they did or didn’t say.

  “She told you about Kip?” This seemed to surprise his daughter.

  “Yeah.” He sat down between the two kids on the couch and draped his arms around their shoulders. “I bet it’s a little weird to have your mother dating again, isn’t it?” If he was upset about Kip, then it made sense his kids would be, too. He wanted to reassure them that, no matter what happened, they could always count on him.

  “Not really,” Kenny said, not taking his eyes from the television screen. “She’s gone out lots before.”

  She has? This was news to Steve.

  “First there was Paul, then George.”

  What about Ringo? Steve scowled.

  “None of them lasted very long,” Meagan supplied.

  “And Kip?” Steve wanted to jerk the words away the moment he uttered them.

  “Mom really likes Kip,” Kenny said.

  “How do you feel about him?” Again this was a question that bordered on the forbidden, but Steve couldn’t keep himself from asking. This was his wife’s—all right, ex-wife’s—boyfriend they were talking about, and ultimately that involved his children.

  “Kip’s okay,” Kenny responded with a shrug. “But he doesn’t know much about baseball.”

  That bit of information cheered Steve considerably. Kip had taken Mary Lynn to a wine-tasting party. Steve liked wine, too, but he preferred drinking it to spitting it out—wasn’t that what they did at wine-tastings? Not once in their twelve-year marriage had he thought of taking Mary Lynn to something like that. On the other hand, she’d never told him such affairs interested her. One thing was certain, he’d spit wine if it’d help win back his ex-wife.

  Steve heard a car door slam and leapt up, racing toward the front door. Mary Lynn was climbing out of her van, and it struck him how happy she looked. Some of that joy faded when she saw him. The words to inform her that she was late died on the tip of his tongue. Mary Lynn could tell time as well as he could. She knew she was late, and reminding her would only serve to widen the rift between them. He wanted to build bridges, not tear them down.

  “Did you have a nice afternoon?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know she’d been with Kip.

  “Wonderful. How about you?”

  “Great. Kenny’s going to make a helluva shortstop.”

  Mary Lynn grinned. “Like father, like son.” She glanced past him to the condo. Kenny and Meagan were at the door. “You ready, kids?”

  “Why don’t you come inside?” Steve invited. “You haven’t seen the place since I decorated, have you?”

  Mary Lynn snickered. “I don’t call moving the dirty-clothes hamper out of the living room decorating.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a real sofa and chair now. And a dining-room set.”

  “I heard, and I applaud you for replacing the patio furniture and the card table. That’s progress.” She motioned for Meagan and Kenny, who trudged past him, carting their overnight bags.

  Steve gave them each a quick kiss.

  “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, Dad.”

  Soon his family was inside the van. Steve remained on the sidewalk, waving when they pulled away. He buried his hands in his pants pockets and watched the vehicle disappear.

  After a moment he returned to the empty house.

  Donnalee was definitely, undeniably nervous. She’d arrived at the restaurant half an hour early for the simple reason that she didn’t want to be the one to search out and identify Sanford. This way, she hoped to have a few moments to appraise him without his knowing.

  After thirteen years, Donnalee was finally ready to marry again. But that meant meeting men, going through the whole process of acquaintance and courtship—maybe more than once. Apart from some casual and ultimately meaningless dates, she hadn’t been involved with a man since her marriage. If she wanted to fall in love again, she had to lower her defenses, make herself vulnerable.

&
nbsp; That was the terrifying part. She should have gone into counseling following her divorce. Intensive counseling. Any smart woman would have done that. Well, it’d taken Donnalee far longer to get smart than it should have, but she was there now. Savvy. Worldly. Mature.

  Those were the very qualities that appealed to Sanford. He’d told her so during their telephone conversation. She sat at the table, facing the door, eyeing everyone who entered. His picture had shown him to be an attractive dark-haired man with strong classical features—but, as Donnalee knew, studio portraits were often deceiving.

  A restaurant was neutral territory. Sanford was the one who’d chosen this upscale Mexican restaurant, located in the heart of downtown Seattle. Judging by the succulent scents drifting from the kitchen, he’d chosen well, although Donnalee wondered how she’d manage to swallow a single bite.

  A tall distinguished-looking gentleman entered the restaurant and hesitated. Donnalee quickly lifted a pair of glasses from her lap and slipped them on, then peered toward the door. Like an idiot, she’d lost the last of her disposable contact lenses down the bathroom drain and had to resort to her old glasses. But Sanford had seen her picture, too, and he wouldn’t recognize her wearing glasses, so she donned them only when absolutely necessary.

  He spoke briefly with the hostess and darted a glance in her direction.

  Donnalee lowered the glasses to her lap again and squinted hard. Unbelievable. He even looked good blurred. It was him. It had to be him. If she’d been nervous earlier, it was nothing compared to the way she felt now. As for all her self-talk about being worldly and mature, she felt no evidence of those qualities at the moment.

  He approached her table. “Donnalee?”

  “Sanford?”

  His slow easy smile relaxed her. “Your photo doesn’t do you justice.”

  “Yours doesn’t either,” she murmured, meaning it.

  Grinning, he pulled out his chair and sat down.

  That was the start of the most fascinating night of her life. Hours later, when she phoned Hallie, Donnalee was still in a dreamy swoon. “He’s fabulous. Just fabulous. We talked and talked and talked. We were at the restaurant until midnight. They had to boot us out, so we found someplace else for coffee and talked some more.”

  “What time is it?” Hallie asked, with a loud yawn.

  Donnalee would never have phoned this late if Hallie hadn’t left three urgent messages, demanding she call the minute she got home. “Two o’clock.”

  Hallie gasped. “You mean to say you just got in? But this was just your first date.”

  “I know.” Try as she might, Donnalee couldn’t keep the wistful tone out of her voice.

  “He’s not there with you, is he?” Hallie’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  “No. Good grief, what kind of woman do you take me for?”

  “A woman who’s been too long without a man! Was he everything you hoped?”

  “More. Hallie, I can’t believe it! He’s warm and gracious, romantic and so much fun. I could have talked to him all night. We walked along the waterfront and held hands.”

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “Yes… and I even told him about Larry.” The subject of her divorce wasn’t something Donnalee discussed freely or often, and certainly nothing she’d intended to talk about on her first date. When she’d mentioned it to Sanford, she’d made light of it. The marriage was a mistake, she was too young to know what she was doing, that sort of thing. It amazed her how easily he’d read between the lines. His hand had tightened around hers and he’d stopped. With the breeze off Puget Sound ruffling her hair and the ferry gliding across the dark waters, its lights a glittering contrast to the night, he’d placed his hand under her chin and raised her eyes to his. Then, ever so gently, he’d kissed her.

  Donnalee didn’t elaborate on the kiss. Hallie was her best friend, but some things you kept private.

  “Are you seeing him again?”

  “Tomorrow. Today,” Donnalee amended. She’d planned to play this cautiously, and she still would but… she liked this man, liked him so much it frightened her. It was all happening too soon.

  “You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you?” Hallie sounded almost disappointed. Surprisingly, Donnalee understood. She knew her friend didn’t begrudge her happiness; Hallie just hadn’t expected her to find the right man this effortlessly. Frankly, neither had Donnalee. So far, Sanford was… perfect. She realized it was too early to say he was the person she should marry—but marriage was a distinct possibility.

  “What about you?” Donnalee asked. The last time she’d talked to Hallie, she’d agreed to meet with Rita’s husband’s friend. The one Rita had declared the ideal match for Hallie. “Did Marv phone?”

  “Precisely at seven.”

  “Isn’t that when Rita suggested he call?”

  “Yes, and that worries me. He seems to carry this punctuality thing to extremes.”

  “He’s an accountant, so what do you expect? How’d he sound?”

  Hallie giggled. “Like an accountant. He couldn’t squeeze in a date with me until next Thursday night.”

  “It’s tax season,” Donnalee reminded her. “What do you expect?” she said again.

  “I don’t know. Going out with a guy named Marv doesn’t exactly thrill me.”

  “You might be surprised. I had a preconceived idea about Sanford, remember?”

  “Do people actually call him that?”

  “Apparently so. He said when he was a kid, his friends called him Sandy, but that just didn’t suit him anymore. He said I could call him Sandy if it made me more comfortable. But he doesn’t look like a Sandy. He looks like a Sanford. It’s a perfectly respectable name, and so is Marv.”

  “Marv,” Hallie repeated slowly. “You’re right. It’s not a bad name.”

  “Not at all.” Neither of them pointed out that Hallie had gotten a date—without paying two thousand dollars for the privilege.

  “How long did you two talk?”

  “A minute,” Hallie murmured, “two at the most. He’s on a schedule.”

  Donnalee was beginning to understand her friend’s qualms. “Don’t be too quick to judge him. Who knows, he might turn out to be Mr. Wonderful.”

  “Why am I having trouble believing that?”

  Five

  Bachelor #1

  February 20

  Tonight’s the night. I’m meeting Marvin—Marv. It goes without saying that I shouldn’t count on this blind date, but I can’t help myself. Not after the way I’ve worked to turn myself into a desirable enticing woman, irresistible to mortal man.

  Yes, I’m at goal weight. It would have been easier if I’d blasted away those ten pounds with dynamite, but they’re gone, which is reason enough for celebrating. Marv’s taking me to the Cliffhanger, a pleasant surprise. The fact that I actually have a dinner date (with someone Rita feels is perfect!) excites me. I have faith in networking. Donnalee is delighted with Dateline, as well she should be for two thousand bucks, but I prefer to tackle this dating thing on my own. So far so good, although I haven’t actually met Marvin—Marv. We’ve talked a couple of times and he sounds… interesting.

  It isn’t like I’ve spent the last six years in a vacuum. Dating isn’t exactly a new experience. But now, I’m looking at each man as a potential husband and father. Not that I’m going to ask for a sperm count or character references, but there are certain traits I want in a man. Commitment is a biggie to me. I want to do this marriage thing once, and only once, so I plan to do it right.

  This date with Marv is the beginning of a journey, though I can’t say exactly where this journey will take me. My, oh my, I do get poetic. I’ll write tomorrow after I meet Marv. I only hope Rita knows me as well as she thinks.

  Hallie was going to annihilate Rita. The instant she opened the door and met Marv, she had her doubts. For starters, he didn’t look like she’d expected—or Rita had implied. Not like Sean Connery at all. More like Elmer Fudd.
And he wore a checkered bow tie.

  She wasn’t the only one disappointed. Marv seemed dissatisfied, too. So much so that Hallie wondered what Rita had told him about her.

  “You must be Hallie,” Marv said, stepping inside her home. He glanced around like an appraiser, as though tallying the worth of her furniture and personal effects.

  He was so short—that wasn’t his fault, though Rita might’ve warned her—she was a good two inches taller without wearing her heels. But his brusque unfriendly attitude was another matter. If he’d bothered to greet her with a smile, she would have felt differently. Instead, he scrutinized her the way he had her furnishings, without emotion, without warmth.

  “Would you like a glass of wine before we leave?” she asked, hoping her first impressions had been wrong, willing to give the evening a try, if for nothing more than the fact that she’d spent almost a hundred dollars on her dress. Besides, he was taking her to her favorite restaurant, one she could seldom afford on her own. Any man who invited her to dinner at the Cliff-hanger was probably redeemable.

  He declined her offer of wine, explaining severely, “I’m driving.”

  “Coffee, then?”

  “Decaffeinated, please.” He helped himself to a chair while she got their drinks. He pinched his lips in disapproval when she returned with a mug for him and a wineglass for her. If this was how the evening was going to continue, she’d need that wine. Maybe she should bring the bottle with her; a swig now and again was bound to improve her mood—if not his.

  “I understand Rita’s husband works with you,” she said, hoping to cut through the awkwardness and salvage this so-called date.

  He nodded. “You’re a friend of Rita’s, correct?”

  “Uh, correct.”

  “You’ve known her how long?” he asked, removing a pad and pen from inside his suit jacket.

  “Rita?” She frowned, wondering why he felt this information was important enough to warrant documentation. “Oh, for years. Actually we’ve known each other since college. Nine or ten years, I’d guess.”