Accidentally Yours

by Bettye Griffin

  She was glad he was familiar with the bistro. Neptune’s Catch had a capacity of less than one hundred and was nestled in a woodsy section of a Westchester village too small to be included on any map. It was the only restaurant she knew of that didn’t accept credit cards, a circumstance which she knew had caused at least one person considerable embarrassment. She remembered Glenda telling her about one of the executives coming to her for a loan from the petty cash fund to reimburse his secretary. He had taken her to lunch for her birthday, and upon presenting an American Express card to pay the bill and being told it was cash only, his secretary had to ante up because he only had fifteen dollars on him.

  Over lunch they participated in the obligatory exchange of background information, learning that they were both from Connecticut—Timothy hailed from Bridgeport—and had attended the same college. He was divorced, with two children, seventeen and twenty, and since he mentioned the year of his college graduation, Vivian calculated his age at forty-seven or forty-eight, a little younger than her initial belief. It made her feel better. Fifty frightened her; it was so distant. She wasn’t even forty yet.

  He called her office a little over an hour after they returned. “I just wanted to say I enjoyed having lunch with you, Vivian. I hope we can do it again.”

  His voice sounded softer than usual and a little strained. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve got a little stomachache, but I’m sure I’ll live.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  She called him back at four-thirty. “Just thought I’d check how you were feeling.”

  “Actually, it’s getting worse. You just caught me. I’ve been away from my desk for half of the afternoon, and now I’m getting ready go home.”

  “Can you take my home number? I’d really like to know how you’re feeling a few hours from now, and I don’t know how to reach you.”

  “Sure. I’ve got a pen here. Shoot.”

  Glenda showed up at her door a few minutes later, after Timothy had hung up with a promise to call her. “Now, I want to know everything that happens with you and Zack, and don’t leave out anything.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t be blue, Viv. It’ll be all right. You’ll see him again.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t thinking about Zack. I was thinking about Timothy.”

  “Timothy? Why are you thinking about him? I know you had a good time at lunch and all, but—”

  “He hasn’t been feeling well since lunch. I’m a little worried. Why is it every man I go out with either has an accident or gets sick?”

  “Not every man, Viv. Remember, Bernard was complaining of pain even before you met him. And it’s true that Zack fell, but it’s not like the two of you ever dated.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “It’s just one of those weird coincidences. Have you talked to Timothy in the last hour or so? Maybe he’s feeling better.”

  “I just talked to him. He went home.”

  “He did? Wow, he must really be feeling crummy. Those auditors might not show up until nine-thirty, but they’re usually still here at seven. I got suckered into staying late one Friday night to help with some project Accounting was doing, and when I left at six-thirty they were still plugging away. I can’t imagine putting in that many hours on a regular basis, unless I was working for myself.” Glenda took in Vivian’s distressed expression. “Try not to be too concerned. You don’t want it to put a damper on your evening with Zack.”

  On the drive home Vivian’s thoughts began to shift from Timothy to Zack. It was true that she could do nothing about Timothy’s condition, but she did hope he would call and say the spell had passed and he was back to normal. This business with Gary’s lacerated arm, Gordon’s ankle sprain, and Bernard’s ulcer was too much. No wonder Zack had dubbed her the angel of the accident-prone. At least this was one incident he had no way of knowing about.

  She found Zack in the kitchen, struggling to cut through a lobster shell with a long knife…and standing on his own two feet. “Hi! How’s the foot?”

  “Feeling pretty good, now that I’ve had all day to get it in shape. It felt really weird at first, but it’s definitely strong enough to support me. Do you have any kitchen shears? This knife just isn’t cutting it.”

  “I do have scissors, but not specifically for the kitchen. I use them to cut everything.”

  “I doubt the lobsters will mind.”

  She retrieved the scissors from her bedroom and handed them to him.

  “Ah, much better,” he said as he cut through the lobster shells. But the next time I cook, you’re coming to my place. I’ve got everything a cook can want.”

  She stared at him, taken aback by the casual way in which he spoke. Next time?

  “Can I help you do anything?” she offered when he didn’t elaborate on what he meant by ‘next time.’ As much as she wanted to know, she wasn’t about to ask.

  “You can set the table, I guess. There really isn’t much to do. The steaks are broiling now. The salad is in the fridge, and the potatoes just have to be heated.”

  “I’m going to change, and then I’ll set the table.”

  On the way to her bedroom she noticed his duffel bag on the floor by the coffee table, all zipped up, next to his television. She stared at it for a few moments, then hurried in to change.

  In her bedroom she removed her skirt and slip and pulled on a pair of jeans that felt tighter than usual around her waist and thighs. She’d eaten larger dinners than usual all week because of Zack’s cooking, and it was too early for that fried shrimp and all that bread she’d eaten at lunch to show up. Tomorrow when she lunched with Lauren she would order a simple soup and salad. Soon it would be summer, and there was no way to hide extra pounds while wearing a swimsuit.

  Twenty minutes later they sat down to dinner. Zack held up his wine glass. “Here’s to a caring lady who took me in when I had nowhere else to go.”

  His seriousness caught her off guard, and choked her up a bit as well. “Are you trying to make me cry? You talk like a homeless person, not the owner of a four-story brownstone that probably has a dozen rooms.”

  “All right, I’ll amend that. You took care of me when no one else could. You’ve taken good care of me, and I know it hasn’t been easy to do that, plus go about dealing with your own life.”

  She decided to be honest. “It’s not like there’s so much going on in my life, Zack.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. You seem to have a pretty full plate to me. You’re busy at the office, you’ll soon be going on the trip of a lifetime, and I happen to know that you date fairly often. I’m sure not every man you’ve gone out with since New Year’s has ended up as one of my patients.”

  She made a noncommittal murmur, not wanting to admit that the odds were a lot higher than he thought. Of course, if Timothy decided to see a doctor, it would be someone in the Stamford area, and Zack would never know.

  “Sometimes we get so involved with the day-to-day stuff that we don’t realize how full our lives are,” he continued. “Speaking of the day-to-day stuff, I’m due back at work tomorrow afternoon.”

  She kept her voice casual. “I’ll bet you’re anxious to get home.”

  “I’ve been very comfortable here, but you know what they say—there’s no place like home.”

  She’d known all along that he would be leaving after dinner. He was moving about fine, and there was simply no need for him to stay longer. Still, there was a dull ache at the base of her throat that she recognized as disappointment.

  He insisted on helping her clean the kitchen. “I have to do this when I’m at home, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got a dishwasher.” Vivian instantly regretted having said the words. The kitchen was on the first floor in the rear. His bedroom, where he kept his clothes and where she was supposed to have been, was on the second floor. She’d just put her foot in it, telling him that she’d helped herself to a tour of his home
.

  Zack graciously did not comment on her blunder. “True, but that’s only a small part of cleaning a kitchen. I think this past week may have spoiled both of us. You won’t want to cook and I won’t want to clean.”

  And then it was time for him to leave.

  He picked up his duffel bag and portable television, but put them down when he reached the door and turned to her.

  Her heartbeat raced. Surely he wouldn’t leave without kissing her…

  He took her hands in his, then raised her right hand and kissed the back of it. His eyes never left her face. As he lowered her hand he continued to hold it, and then in a smooth motion he let go and slid his hands up the length of her arms. When he reached her shoulders he drew her close to him, saying just one word before he kissed her hungrily.

  “Vivling…”

  She accepted his embrace like she’d known it all her life. When the kiss ended they just stared at each other, and then he put an arm around her, encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder.

  “Leaving you is a lot harder than I thought it would be,” he said.

  She didn’t respond right away, savoring having her head nestled in the space between the back of his ear and his shoulder, enjoying the warm tingling that came from being so close to him. “I can help you downstairs,” she managed to say.

  “No, I can manage. I’m all cured, remember?” He let go of her and bent to get his belongings, slipping the duffel bag onto his right shoulder and grasping the television with his stronger right arm. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Then he was gone.

  She closed the door behind him. With him gone her cozy apartment seemed to have lost all its life. Her first thought was to grab her purse and drive somewhere, anywhere noisy and full of people. But she had to give Zack a chance to leave first, otherwise he would think she was chasing after him.

  The ringing of the telephone was a welcome distraction. She grabbed the receiver and voiced a pleasant greeting.

  “Vivian? It’s Timothy. I wanted to see how you were feeling.”

  “I’m fine. The question is, how are you?”

  “I just left the emergency room. They diagnosed me with gastroenteritis. It had to be the shrimp.”

  “Oh, how awful!”

  “It’s a mild case. Since you had shrimp also I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “That was thoughtful of you. I’m fine, actually. I’m glad you’ll be all right.”

  “Yes, they had me hooked up to an IV for a couple of hours for hydration and for medication. I’ll be at work on Monday. Maybe we can do lunch again next week…somewhere different, of course.”

  When their conversation ended she felt even worse. Learning that her latest date had developed food poisoning, no matter how mild, did little for her ego.

  She walked over to the computer armoire and opened it. Getting involved in the strategy involved in attempting to conquer the world was just what she needed to get over her low mood.

  She turned on the computer and pulled one of the chairs around to face the screen. As she waited for the machine to boot up, she noticed a small white envelope to its left and picked it up. ‘Vivling’ was written across it in bold printed strokes. Maybe it was a note, something that would make her smile…and something that would make her forget that he hadn’t even asked for her phone number before he left. She used the letter opener she kept inside the drawer to open it. It wasn’t a note, but three fifty-dollar bills.

  She stared at the money for a long time. When her desktop came up on the screen, she shut it down and turned it off. A computer game of strategy and keen thought would no longer satisfy her.

  Vivian grabbed her jacket, purse, and keys. Leaving the envelope and its contents exactly where she had found it, she left her apartment, headed for the spa. They didn’t have a punching bag, but any frenzied activity was in order to vent the frustration she felt.

  Chapter 14

  What Goes Around Comes Around

  “Well, I don’t know, Bev,” Vivian said into the receiver. “You know how badly it went between Thomas and me, and I’d be sure to run into him at a party at your house.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s in the hospital.”

  “In the hospital? What happened?”

  “Gallstones. He’ll be fine.”

  “Well, as much as I don’t want to run into him, I’m sorry to hear he’s in the hospital. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “It’s about time he’s had them taken out. They’ve been bothering him for months now. I think it goes back to around the time he met you.”

  Vivian sank back into the cushions, and part of her wished she could drown in them. “All right, Bev. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  *****

  Vivian smoothed her dress. She felt a little uncomfortable going to a party alone, but Glenda was on a date with a man she had met at the NBP-sponsored bowling tournament, and none of the other girls she knew in the area could make it.

  Beverly and John lived on a quiet street in the Westchester hamlet of Elmsford. Since they were married she figured most of the people they knew would be married as well. She had no expectations of meeting anyone here, but she needed to get out. The dismal note on which Zack’s stay had ended, as well as the knowledge that Thomas Joseph also had not been spared misfortune after crossing her path made her very morose, and she could count the times she’d smiled in the last week on the fingers of one hand. Everyone had noticed her melancholy mood, and a concerned Glenda had offered to break her date in order to go to the party with her, but Vivian assured her she was fine with going alone.

  She felt buoyed from the moment she first heard the music, which was loud but not eardrum damaging, and felt better still at the sight of attractive people mingling in small groups in the living and dining rooms. Beverly introduced her to a few people, and soon she was standing with a group of women who, judging from their hushed tones, were gossiping. She had joined them because they were female, but it had clearly been a mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to find another group to join when the woman named Tina stopped her. “Oh, don’t go. We didn’t mean to shut you out It’s just that we’re all feeling so bad for poor Gordon.”

  “Gordon?”

  “One of the guys who’s here. He had made special plans for tonight because it was the birthday of the girl he was seeing, and she canceled on him with some excuse, and then she shows up here on the arm of another fellow.”

  “Oh, how awful! Not to mention embarrassing. Is…Gordon still here, or did he leave?”

  “He’s still here. Right now he’s dancing. He’s putting on a good front, but what else can he do?”

  “If he leaves he’ll lose face,” another woman agreed.

  “It just goes to show, Westchester is a small place. You never know who knows who,” the third woman added.

  Vivian only half listened as the women exchanged remarks about it being a small world. She was rapidly losing interest in the saga of “poor Gordon” and wondered how all of them had even found out about his humiliating situation. Then again, that was the way of parties. All it took was one person to know the inside scoop, and the story spread faster than the flu.

  From there the women went on to discuss how Gordon didn’t stand a chance against the good-looking escort the two-timing woman had arrived with. “I don’t know. If I was her and he called me, I might have done the same thing.”

  “He’s so fine.”

  “Did you see those eyes? They practically glowed in the dark.”

  “Do you suppose they’re real, or is he wearing contacts? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone his complexion with blue eyes.”

  “I remember my grandmother had blue eyes and she was brown-skinned, but it had something to do with her cataracts.”

  “Anyone else would look like a freak of nature, but on him they look good. I’m sure they’re real. Men don’t get into colored contac
t lenses; it’s just us women who like to experiment with eye color.”

  The mention of an exceedingly handsome brown-skinned man with blue eyes piqued Vivian’s attention. She carefully scanned the room, which wasn’t that large, but her eyes were still adjusting to the dim lighting. She didn’t see anyone who looked like Zack, but who else could the women be talking about? Apparently not only was Westchester small when it came to single thirty-something African-American professionals, but so was the entire New York metropolitan area.

  She gestured to Beverly as she was about to pass by, stepping away from the others and spoke as softly as she could and still being heard above the loud music. “Do you know if there’s a man here named Zack Warner?”

  “Zack? Yeah, I think so. Does he have blue eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s involved in Big Brothers with John. You know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish you’d invited him. He caused a hell of an uproar with that woman he showed up with.”

  “If this is about poor Gordon, I’ve already heard the story.”

  “I feel terrible, since I’m the one who invited him. He’s the son of friends of my parents, and we used to play together when we were kids. He’s a nice guy, not bad-looking, either. I was so surprised to see him, since he’d told me he couldn’t make it because he had a big night planned. He’d made dinner reservations and bought theater tickets. At least he was able to sell the tickets to somebody after she canceled on him.” She shook her head. “Women who do things like that give all of us a bad name. But at least he’s hiding his hurt well.”

  Vivian looked in the same direction as Beverly. Her mouth dropped open when she recognized the man who’d been spurned. “Wait a minute. It’s Gordon Wilson?”

  “Yes. You know him, too?”

  “Yes. The son-of-a-gun stood me up a couple of months ago, and now I’ll bet I know why. This girl must have told him she wanted to see him, and he unloaded me like the proverbial hot potato.”

  “That’s too bad, but at least you were able to keep the incident to yourself. I think the story of what happened to him has gotten around to everybody here.”