by Claire Adams
She narrowed her eyes. “I think I want grandchildren before I die, and that’ll require you to have a wife, Logan. You don’t even have a girlfriend right now.”
I didn’t say anything to that. We had this discussion every few weeks. It’d only stopped for a couple months because my father died.
I leaned back in my chair. “Mother, you have to understand my situation.”
“What’s there to understand about your situation?”
I shrugged. “That I’m busy. I’m the CEO of a major financial management firm. I put in sixty- and seventy-hour work weeks a lot. And then there’s the fact that we’re in Nashville.”
“What about Nashville?” She cut me with a look that bordered on a glare. There were a lot of lines I might be able to cross, but insulting my city wasn’t one of them. Not that it was what I was trying to do.
“It’s even harder here because we have to compete with all the New York and London firms, and we don’t have access to the same networks of people here. Just saying it took me more work to get where I am.” I pointed to my wall. Various magazine and newspaper articles encased in glass hung on the wall. “You don’t earn that kind of respect by not working hard.”
“No one is telling you not to work hard, Logan. Plenty of businessmen date.”
“I understand, but dating takes time, Mother, and the one thing I don’t have a lot of is time. I’m not prepared to give up my career for a woman, and it wouldn’t be fair to her to date a man who isn’t ready to give her the attention she needs. Don’t you think that would be cruel?”
“I can’t believe you.” My mother rubbed her temples. “Now you’re just being obstinate. There are plenty of women who would understand a man who works hard. You’re using it as an excuse because you don’t want to date for whatever reason.”
“No, I’m providing an explanation.”
“Are you trying to upset me?”
“No, Mother, I’m not.” I tapped a small glass statuette on my desk. “When I got this award, it was proof that the industry respects my efforts. I like my work, and I make a lot of people rich. They spend that money, and it helps make jobs. So, I’m helping the economy of the country, the state, and Nashville. Isn’t that a good thing?”
My mother shook her head. “Listen to yourself. What if your father, God rest his soul, had thought like that? What if he had spent all his time worrying about magazine articles and awards? You wouldn’t even be here, now would you?” She nodded once, a satisfied look settling over her face. “I bet you wouldn’t like that at all.”
I resisted another smart remark. The last thing I wanted to do was seriously upset my mother, so it was time to direct the conversation in a different direction.
“I have plenty of time to get married. Remember Bill Hobson? I went to his wedding last week, and he’s fifty-five.”
“Um-hm,” my mother said, a frown on her face. “The one who married the girl thirty years younger than him? Is that your plan? Wait until you’re fifty-five and cradle rob?”
I rubbed the back of the neck, regretting picking that example. “No, I’m not planning that. I’m only saying I still have some time.”
My mother crossed her arms. “I don’t want to wait until you’re fifty-five. I might not last that long.” She placed her hands together. “Please, I’m begging you.”
I let out a long sigh. The whole conversation wasn’t going the way I’d hoped.
“Besides, I’m going to make this as painless as possible,” she said.
Painless as possible was one of those phrases that suggested the whole thing was going to be extra painful. I only barely stopped myself from pointing that out to my mother.
“How so?” I offered instead. Nice and reasonable.
“The hard part is searching and filtering through all the available women. I understand that. You have all those computer sites and things on your phone and whatnot, but they make it harder not easier.” She folded her hands back in her lap. “And as you’ve made rather clear, you’re very busy, so I can understand why you might have trouble finding a good woman. I can help with that.”
“Okay,” I said, waiting for the painful part to come.
“I’m going to cut out all the trouble. No computer sites or phone dating. I’ve already got a perfectly lovely woman for you to meet.”
My back and shoulders tensed. “Wait. Are you seriously trying to set up an arranged marriage? This is America, Mother.”
She put a hand over her mouth and laughed. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’m just saying my friend Sally Jolie has a perfectly lovely daughter. She’s from a good family with good breeding and strong roots in the area, and I know she can deliver grandchildren because she already has one.”
“She already has children? What if they don’t like me?”
“Oh, everyone’s fine with children, and she only has one.”
“So, you’re saying you want me to date a divorced woman?”
My mother clucked her tongue. “Judge not lest ye be judged. It wasn’t her fault. Her husband was an awful man, an adulterer. She divorced him. Good riddance to bad rubbish.” She sniffed disdainfully. “She works for a bank. You even have similar jobs.”
I didn’t bother to correct her.
“She’s looking for a good man,” she continued, “and you have a lot in common, and both of you are from good, old Nashville families. I don’t see what it’d hurt to at least try.” My mother looked me up and down. “She’s not too young like your cradle-robbing friend. She’s thirty-two. And she’s very pretty you know. Brunette and busty. I know you like them busty.”
My face flamed, and I put my palm to my forehead. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss my physical preferences with my mother.
“Okay, okay,” I said, throwing up my hands. “If you promise me you’ll stop asking about it for at least six months, I’ll go on one date.” I held up a single finger. “And only one. If we don’t click, then I don’t want any complaints.”
My mother clapped her hands together once, her face now alight with joy. “One date is all you need, you’ll see.”
“I’m just agreeing to one date, Mother, not to marry this woman. And you have to promise me, okay?”
She grinned as she stood. “I promise not to bother you again about this for six months.” She gestured to the clock hanging above my door. “But I really better get going. I have an early meeting tomorrow to discuss some statues we might be funding in a local park.”
“Thank you for stopping by.” I gestured toward the paper plate holding the cherry pie crumbs. “And it was delicious.”
My mother hurried out. After she closed the door, I was sure I could hear a distant giggle.
I loved and trusted my mother, but I wasn’t so sure I loved and trusted her to set me up with a woman or if she even really had my best interests at heart. After all, she was concerned with one thing, grandchildren, and I wasn’t so sure I cared that much about having kids anytime soon.
The promise filled me with a little hope. One date shouldn’t be so bad, I figured, and after that, I’d have her off my back for half a year.
Still, I couldn’t stop wondering if I had agreed to something that would ruin my life.
Chapter Three
EMILY
Thursday after dropping Juniper off at pre-school, I waited at a red light on my way to the bank. I glanced at the clock in my car, 8:30 a.m. Three and half hours until what would probably turn out to be the most awkward moment of my life.
I’d caved. All my bravado, all my threats to Mama, but I still end up caving like a good respectable daughter should.
On Tuesday night, she ended up calling me after I went home. The way she carried on about Logan Hawkins, I couldn’t help but think she wanted to marry him. Maybe I should have suggested that instead of agreeing to her little date plan.
I should have been a strong, independent woman like she raised. Instead, I folded to get her off my back.
A car honked, and I
realized the light had changed green. I accelerated with a sigh.
Sally Jolie, the Adamant Mother of Dating Doom. She’d never give up. That’s what I realized. That’s why I’d agreed. At least, that’s what I told myself to make myself feel better.
The date didn’t have to be a big deal, but I didn’t expect it to be two days later. I’d thought I would have more time. Instead, she called me up first thing Thursday morning to suggest a lunch date at a café downtown. It was a bit of a compromise, as it was between both of our jobs and something we could fit in during the workday.
In truth, that was a bit of a relief. It’d been a long time since I’d been out on anything approaching a romantic date, even with Lionel, so it helped that I didn’t have to worry too much about what I was going to wear, other than the nice and professional blue skirt, white shirt, and blue jacket I wore for work. Light make-up, nothing inappropriately sexy.
It’s not that I didn’t look nice, but working risk analysis at the bank wasn’t exactly a job where one would emphasize one’s womanly assets and curves.
And I’m not trying to brag, but the good Lord blessed me with an ample chest. It was too bad it was wasted on Lionel, a man who didn’t appreciate my curves enough to stop chasing after other women. The bastard.
It didn’t matter. The only reason I was going to this little lunchtime semi-date was to get Mama off my back. After all, this Logan Hawkins sounded like a mama’s boy. What sort of man needed his mother to set him up on a date?
I was thinking he was probably not too kind on the eyes with a personality to match. Given the status of the Hawkins family, he probably was lazy and hadn’t done much with his life. Otherwise, he’d already have a woman. That had to be the situation. It’s the only way it’d make sense that he’d need help with dating.
I arrived at the parking lot of the bank and smiled to myself. I might not want this date, but by biting the bullet, I’d at least be safe for a while.
* * *
“Thank you all,” my manager said. “I know this has been a long meeting, but I wanted to make sure we were all on point for dealing with our quarterly and annual goals. We’ll have a follow-up meeting next week. Until then, you’re free to go.”
Several people grumbled as they rose. I blinked a few times, realizing I’d spaced out a few minutes ago, after the fiftieth PowerPoint slide in the presentation.
The problem with working an office job is all the darn meetings. I swear if we spent more time doing our work and less time going to meetings, we’d probably double the amount of work we got done each day.
I managed not to yawn as I glanced at my watch. 11:00 a.m. The meeting had gone over by forty-five minutes. That meant I’d not be able to go through some documents I’d planned to get to before lunch.
The thought of skipping the date bubbled up in my mind, but I squashed it. If I skipped a date that both Mama and Amelia Hawkins had set up, I was sure I’d never hear the end of it. Mama would be scandalized. I’d have to stay late to make up the work.
I fought back a curse. I couldn’t stay late. I had to pick up Juniper.
I’d have to cut lunch short, which meant I was probably dooming this whole thing before it started.
It didn’t matter. Juniper was the single most important thing in my life, and if Logan couldn’t understand that, then even a minute of time with him would be a waste.
I allowed myself a good stretch as I rose from the hard plastic seat and headed toward the conference room door. The café I was supposed to meet Logan at wasn’t far away. At work, we ordered from them a lot. That meant I still had some time to freshen up before I had my little date or awkward torture session, whatever you wanted to call it.
A cleansing breath followed. I wanted to try and keep a positive attitude. Now, just because I didn’t know anyone who had been set up with their man by their mothers didn’t mean it couldn’t work out. Right?
To be honest, I could barely remember what they were even talking about during the meeting. My mind had kept drifting to Logan Hawkins and what a disaster the date might turn out to be.
I rubbed my palms together and tugged at my shirt collar, my whole ensemble suddenly feeling confining and hot despite the fact the building maintenance kept the air conditioning so low, I felt like I worked in a refrigerator half the time.
I hurried to the ladies’ room.
Why was I so nervous? It was simple really. It’s one thing if a woman sets up her own date with some random man and it flames out. There are no expectations, no lasting connections to cause her trouble normally. But Mama had set this up through one of her society friends.
That meant if everything exploded, it wouldn’t be a matter of me never calling the man again and vice versa but of Mama yelling at me or him. Maybe yelling at Amelia Hawkins. Or the opposite. Heck, maybe she’d keep out the middle-woman to call me up directly and give me a tongue lashing for not appreciating the charms of her great son.
I groaned loudly, earning more than a few curious stares from fellow employees in the hallway before I stepped into the ladies’ room.
No one was inside. Good. I didn’t want anyone to ask me what was wrong because then I might actually have to explain.
I took a deep breath and peered into the mirror. My makeup still looked fine. I looked cute and professional, so I was presentable enough at least if the whole date actually, by some miracle, ended up going well.
For some reason, I found myself wondering if Logan Hawkins liked hazel eyes. Maybe he wanted thinner, leaner women. It wasn’t that I was fat or anything, just that I wasn’t exactly some hardbody who hit the gym all the time. I was proud of my hourglass figure and curves, but maybe he wouldn’t like them and wanted someone he could go on marathons with. Not that I’d heard he ran marathons.
Men liked big boobs though. That was fairly universal, right? At least that was what I told myself.
I shook my head, suddenly irritated. Why should I care what Logan Hawkins liked? I didn’t even want to go on the date in the first place. I had a little girl to worry about, not impressing some second-rate man Mama’s friend was throwing me at out of desperation.
After washing my hands, I splashed some water on my face, my heart pounding.
“You can do this, Emily. You can do this.”
* * *
“You can do this, Emily,” I repeated to myself as I stood outside the door of the café not that long later. I wanted to send up a prayer, but I figured the Lord had better things to do than help me out on a date.
When I stepped into the café, it wasn’t that busy. I guess more people ordered out than ate in, despite the lovely granite tables and white chairs. A waitress walked over to me.
“Please take a seat anywhere you want, ma’am,” the chipper woman said.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
She smiled and headed off.
A quick glance around didn’t help me spot anyone who might be Logan Hawkins, especially since all the customers were either women or old men. I regretted not having Mama send me a picture. I didn’t know why I hadn’t. Maybe I was too afraid to prejudge the guy if he turned out to be ugly. Bless his heart.
Lord knows looks aren’t everything. My ex-husband was a sight to behold when I first married him, but his heart was ugly as sin. Still, I figured it might be nice if Logan Hawkins wasn’t bad on the eyes.
I saw one man sitting alone and wondered if he might be Logan, but he didn’t look to be much past his early thirties, if that. Logan was pushing forty from what Mama had told me. No way that pretty boy was Logan.
Yeah, he was a nice-looking man. Dark hair and dark eyes, tall, filled out his black suit well, but not too muscular, nice and lean. Handsome face. Too bad I couldn’t be meeting him.
I shook my head. Who was I, Lionel? I couldn’t be checking other men when I was supposed to be on a date. Even if I didn’t have any sort of commitment to Logan yet, I didn’t want to start anything on the wron
g foot.
A check of my watch revealed the time was 11:30 a.m. I started to wonder if this whole thing was going to be a waste of time in more than one way. I didn’t like the idea of spending my lunch hour waiting for a man who didn’t feel like he needed to be on time.
I pulled my phone from my purse and checked it. No calls since Mama’s that morning.
I only barely stopped myself from groaning. I didn’t even have Logan’s number.
Questions swirled in my mind. Did that make this whole thing a blind date, then? A blind date set up by our mothers? My stomach churned at the thought. How pathetic.
I slipped my phone back into my purse and looked up. The handsome guy from before was smiling at me. Oof. What a bright and wonderful smile. Such nice teeth. I didn’t even know teeth could be that white outside of television.
He waved at me. I pointed to myself to make sure it wasn’t a mistake, and he laughed and motioned for me to come there.
My cheeks warmed. It’d been a long time since I’d been hit on. Unfortunately, I’d have to let him down nicely, unless I got lucky and Logan never showed up.
I headed over to the handsome man’s table. His smile only grew as I closed on him.
“Emily, right?” the handsome man said.
I blinked and stared at him. No. It couldn’t be.
“Logan?” I asked.
The smile turned into a mischievous grin, which only made him more handsome. “In the flesh. I guess we should have sent pictures.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yes.”
I managed not to comment on how young he looked for his age. I wasn’t sure if he’d find that insulting.
Slipping into the seat, I offered him a smile back. Well, the date was off to only a semi-awkward start, and at least I couldn’t complain that Logan wasn’t nice to look at.
Chapter Four
LOGAN
I offered Emily a bright smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but she would easily be considered beautiful by most men, including me, with her stunning hazel eyes. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders. She was younger than I’d expected, or at least she was younger looking. Mother told me she was thirty-two, but she looked younger by several years.