Sweet Indulgences 2

by Susan Fox

  “Daddy, your only daughter would love it.” Her mother had died four years ago and her father hadn’t shown any inclination to enter into a new relationship.

  “Any particular place strike your fancy?”

  Hmm. Four years was a long time. Surely her father was ready to meet a nice woman. “I know a wonderful little Italian place, Giacondi’s.” Margo loved the restaurant and had struck up a friendship with the widowed owner, Elena. Was Valentine’s Day a crazy time to think about matchmaking? Oh well, even if nothing else came of it, at least she and her dad could be assured of an excellent meal.

  “I’ll make a reservation,” her father said.

  * * *

  Elena, dressed in a red dress that perfectly suited her Italian coloring and curvy figure, greeted them with a warm smile and showed them to a table by the window. “As you requested, Mr. Channing.”

  “No need to be so formal,” Margo said. “Elena, this is my father, Michael. And Daddy, this is Elena Giacondi, a good friend of mine.”

  After Elena had departed to greet the next guests, Margo’s father said, “I’m afraid this is a bit of a comedown. Eating with your dad on Valentine’s Day.”

  She glanced around the room, then back at him. “I’m eating with the most handsome man in the room.” And it was true. With his full head of silver-streaked hair, his strong features, and his rangy body, he was definitely a good looking man. And a perfect complement to the vibrant Elena.

  “You know what I mean. You and Joe always went out on Valentine’s Day.”

  “As did you and Mom. But things have changed. To be honest, it’s Mom I miss more. Joe and I . . . We really did stop loving each other. We got married before we knew ourselves, much less each other.”

  When he opened his mouth she said, “I know. You and Mom told me. But I thought I knew my heart.”

  “Sweetheart, at twenty-one it’s hard to know your own heart. Your mom and I were your age now when we met. Old enough to know we’d found something special that would last.”

  “I wish you’d had longer together.”

  “I have no regrets, just wonderful memories. And now, let’s order some red wine and we’ll drink a toast to your mother. Somewhere, she’s smiling down on us.”

  As the evening progressed, and Elena Giacondi dropped by their table more than once to exchange laughing comments with her father, Margo had the sense that her mother really was smiling. Theresa Channing had been a warm, generous woman; she wouldn’t have wanted Michael to spend the rest of his life alone.

  As she and her father ate, they exchanged news about their jobs.

  “Did I tell you about our new architect?” he asked. “His name is Scott Winston. He was with one of the bigger places, doing cookie-cutter developments, but that’s not where his interests lie. I put him on my team for the Solerno Heights project and I’m very impressed, not only by his skills but by his general approach. He listens and he’s got an intuitive understanding of what people really want. The same way you do, sweetheart, with your own clients.”

  Later, when Elena came along to offer dessert, Margo said, “I know it’s a busy night, but is there any chance you’d be able to join us?”

  “I do not want to intrude.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t be intruding,” her father said. “Please join us.”

  Elena studied his face carefully then said, “I think perhaps I will. Let me just attend to a few details first.”

  After Elena bustled toward the kitchen, Margo’s father said, “You’re grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. Was this a set-up?”

  “You’re the one who invited me for dinner.”

  “That wasn’t a denial.” He shook a finger at her in a mock reprimand, then suddenly began to laugh.

  “What? Is it really so funny that I’d want my father to meet a nice lady?”

  He shook his head, laughing so hard he couldn’t speak. When he finally calmed down he said, “Sometime I’ll tell you why I was laughing.” He glanced at his watch, then out the window.

  “You’re not in a hurry to go, are you?”

  “Not at all.”

  She glanced out too, and noticed a man coming along the sidewalk, walking a dog. “Oh look, a chocolate Lab. What a pretty dog.”

  “Good heavens,” her father said, “that’s Scott!” He rapped on the window to catch the man’s attention. When he had, he beckoned a finger. The man—Scott—made a gesture of protest, but her father beckoned again.

  “Daddy . . .”

  “I’d like you to meet him, sweetheart.”

  Outside, the man tied his dog’s leash to a streetlamp then headed toward the entrance of the restaurant. When he stepped inside, she got her first good look at him, and straightened in her chair. Her father had said lots of complimentary things about Scott Winston, but hadn’t mentioned how handsome he was. He was tall, broad-shouldered yet lean, and his dark hair swept back from his face and brushed his shoulders. Some people would say he needed a haircut, but Margo had always been partial to long hair, especially when it framed strong, masculine features.

  “Michael.” Scott came forward with a hand outstretched. Her father stood and the two men shook hands, just as if they hadn’t seen each other at work a few hours ago. Margo grinned at the masculine habit, as Scott said, “I’m interrupting your meal.”

  “Nonsense. Scott, I want you to meet my daughter, Margo.”

  Now Scott turned to her, and again held out his hand. She reached out and put hers into it, expecting a firm handshake, but instead he just held her hand gently, then lifted his other hand to cup hers between his two palms. “Margo. I’ve seen your picture in Michael’s office, but it doesn’t do you justice.”

  She felt color flame on her cheeks. “Thank you. Daddy’s been telling me what a welcome addition you are to the firm.”

  “He’s too kind.”

  “Ah, I see we are now four.” It was Elena, coming up behind Scott.

  “I was just leaving,” Scott said.

  “Join us for dessert,” her father said.

  “Only if that’s all right with Margo,” Scott said.

  This was the first time in a very long time that she’d found herself wanting to get to know a man. “Please do.”

  Soon the four of them were seated around the small table, eating rich tiramisu and drinking strong Italian coffee. Margo watched her father and Elena as they began the first steps of the “getting to know you” dance.

  Scott said quietly, “So your father’s been talking about me. He’s told me a lot about you too.”

  There was the tiniest hint of . . . something in his voice. A secret he wasn’t about to reveal? And then the penny dropped. “He has, has he? Such as, perhaps, the fact that we were dining here tonight?”

  Scott threw back his head and laughed. “He did tell me you were intuitive.”

  “This was a set-up.”

  “Are you complaining?” It was her father’s voice, breaking in.

  She grinned. “No, I suppose I’m not. Any more than you are.”

  He chuckled. “You asked what I was laughing about, earlier on? When I found out you had arranged for me to meet Elena? Well, I was just thinking, ‘like father, like daughter.’”

  And was it possible that both father and daughter had found happy new beginnings on this Valentine’s eve?

  Valentine Anniversary

  Outside Carol’s office door, two young secretaries boasted about their plans for the evening. Carol shoved aside a stack of invoices and scrawled a reminder: Buy a card. She should have done it at noon, but she’d grabbed a sandwich and worked at her desk, scrambling to meet a deadline.

  Valentine’s Day. How had it become just another chore on a list?

  She remembered the first year with Will. They’d been dating for three months and she was head over heels. She left a long-stemmed red rose on the seat of his car in the parking lot at the high school where he taught. Students saw it and teased him unmercifu
lly. He loved it! That night he took her out for a special dinner at a Greek restaurant, where they talked about how much they both enjoyed holidays in the sun.

  After, she invited him in for a cup of coffee. He said yes, then asked her how she’d like to go to Greece on their honeymoon.

  It was a kind of backwards way of proposing, but incredibly romantic all the same. And it had made Valentine’s Day a special holiday for them.

  Carol sighed. Maybe she should be more imaginative this year. Perhaps buy an anniversary card instead of a Valentine’s Day one? But would Will even get the point, that it was the anniversary of their engagement? After all, their wedding—followed by a honeymoon in the Greek islands—had been in September.

  She remembered that honeymoon as if it were yesterday. Talk about romantic! The long strolls along beautiful beaches, holding hands and talking about everything in the world. The even-longer evenings, lingering over dinner and drinks at outdoor restaurants, gazing into each other’s eyes.

  Romantic. Now, there was a word that seemed to have gone missing from their relationship. When was the last time they’d even gone for a walk together, much less out for dinner? The last time Will had complimented her on her appearance or given her a gift that wasn’t purely practical?

  Could it be that her husband no longer found her attractive?

  On impulse, Carol hurried to the ladies room and stared into the mirror. Was she unattractive now that she’d raised a couple of kids and passed her forty-fifth birthday? So what if she had a few wrinkles? She and her girlfriends agreed they preferred faces with character.

  But then, girlfriend support was a whole different thing from male admiration. The question that mattered was, did Will still like her face? Perhaps more to the point, did he even see it any longer? Or her body, still trim and firm thanks to regular workouts?

  Well, to be fair, did she really see Will? Once you’d been married to someone for decades, it was natural to begin taking them for granted. She shouldn’t expect more from her husband than she gave him in return.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember how he’d looked when he left home that morning. Now that he was the principal, his work wardrobe was conservative, yet he had a certain presence even in the boring “uniform” of tailored trousers and jacket, long-sleeved shirt and conservative tie. Coaching soccer kept him lean and fit. Really, he was still an attractive man, she thought with some surprise.

  When on earth had she stopped seeing, and appreciating, that? When had she stopped letting him know?

  Darn it, it was one thing to stop really looking at a painting that had hung on your wall for years, but it was quite another to treat your husband like a bit of furniture.

  It took two to make romance, and she’d definitely not been doing her part.

  Vowing to do better, she left the ladies room. Maybe she’d buy him a rose. Too bad she hadn’t thought of it earlier, so she could have rushed over to the school and left it in his car for all his students to see.

  She stepped into her office. “Oh my!” A florist’s box lay on her desk. She tore into it. A dozen long-stemmed yellow roses. What a darling Will was. Their minds must be on the same track today.

  A little misty-eyed, she slipped open the sealed envelope. “Oh!” They weren’t from Will. The tiny card read: To the lady who brightens my days. Yours, Kevin.

  She sank into her chair. The new head of marketing was—there was no other term for it—a hottie, not to mention intelligent and charming. He could have his pick, so why on earth would he choose her?

  She was still gaping at the roses when Kevin stepped into her office and closed the door. “You got the flowers.”

  “I’m stunned. You can’t do this.”

  He grinned. “Apparently I can.”

  “I mean, you shouldn’t. I’m married.”

  His face went serious. “I know. But maybe not so happily married? I never hear you talk about your husband. You deserve to do more than settle, Carol. You deserve the best.”

  She tilted an eyebrow. “And you’re the best?”

  He laughed aloud. “Try me.”

  “Oh, Kevin, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’d like to get to know you better, Carol. You’re a lovely, intelligent woman.” He reached across her desk and touched the top of her hand.

  She didn’t feel a tingle, the way she had on her first date with Will.

  Kevin a small, self-conscious laugh. “I know that sounds trite. A marketing man ought to be able to come up with a better pitch, but when it comes to you I’m more or less tongue-tied. Please, think about it. That’s all I ask. And enjoy the roses.”

  When he’d gone, she leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. The man actually seemed sincere. The corners of her mouth lifted. He thought she was lovely and intelligent. Her mouth straightened again. He thought she was settling.

  She reached for the phone and punched in her best friend’s number. “Brenda, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  “I’d noticed.”

  “You and John doing anything special?”

  “We’re off to eat at Las Tapas. It’s not ritzy, but we love Spanish food. We’ll drink a bottle of Sangre de Toro and pretend we’re back on our honeymoon, driving through Spain.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  “It will be.” She sounded smug. “How about you?”

  “We haven’t talked about it. It’s been such a hard year, what with Mom’s illness and all the stresses with Will’s job. He says if they cut his budget any further, the teachers will rise up en masse and quit. And I miss Marty something fierce.” Her youngest had flown the nest to attend college. “And Pepper too of course; the house just isn’t the same without him.”

  “That old mutt had been with you forever.”

  “We got him from the pound the year we bought the house. Will said a house didn’t feel like a home without a dog. Pepper was part of the family.” Her eyes had grown misty again. She ran a finger under each lower lid. “Bren, do you feel like you’ve settled? In your marriage, I mean?”

  “You mean, settled for second best? Absolutely not. I’ve settled, but in a good way. Settled down with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Settled into a new phase of our relationship, with the kids grown up and more time for John and me to have fun together.” She paused, then said, “Do you, Carol? Feel like you’ve settled for second best?”

  “Of course not,” she replied quickly. The truth was, she didn’t really know how she felt.

  After hanging up, Carol thought of Brenda and John enjoying special time together. Her own house, without the kids and Pepper, felt so empty. And she and Will had been so busy—making arrangements for her mum’s care, sending Margie off to college, discussing how to deal with his problems at work. Fun? What was that? It had been as missing from their lives as romance.

  But on the bright side, she and Will had dealt with the problems together. For the first time, Carol imagined what it would have been like if she’d had to cope with her mother’s illness without Will’s support. He’d helped her with the practical details and held her while she cried. Maybe they hadn’t done anything romantic in ages, but whenever she needed a hug, he was there.

  Damn it, that counted.

  Her eyes skimmed the photos on her bookshelf, finding the one taken on Santorini on their honeymoon. Two slightly sunburned young people, beaming at each other, hoisting glasses of retsina and toasting their undying love.

  Carol felt a surge of emotion. Maybe the feeling had lost its freshness, maybe it had changed over the years, but it was definitely still love she felt for Will. Brenda was wise, with her upbeat definition of settling.

  Carol decided to borrow another of Bren’s ideas. She dialed Will’s number. “Love? How about eating out tonight, at that Greek place we discovered last year? Share some dolmades and souvlaki and a bottle of retsina?”

  “Oh! Well, that sounds great but . . . Uh, would you mind terribly if we made it a
nother night? I’m, uh, awfully tired.”

  Yet again, moisture flooded her eyes. “That’s all right. It was just a thought. See you later.”

  “It was a good thought,” she heard him say as she put down the phone.

  Did he even remember that it was Valentine’s Day?

  She squared her shoulders. Whether or not he remembered, she did. And her idea was a good one. If he was too tired to go out for Greek food, she’d bring it to him. She’d persuade the restaurant to give her take-out, she’d buy a bottle of retsina, and she’d even get him a rose. This was her marriage, and it was worth a little effort.

  If she wanted appreciation and romance from her husband, she needed to realize he deserved the same.

  She glanced at the yellow roses and picked up the phone again. “Kevin? I’m immensely flattered, but the answer is no. You see, I really am happily married. I’d just . . . lost track of that fact for a moment.”

  “And I helped you sort it out? That wasn’t exactly the effect I’d been hoping for.” He gave a rueful laugh and she knew he’d be all right.

  * * *

  That night, juggling a red rose, a bag from the Greek restaurant, and another from the liquor store, she nervously unlocked the front door.

  “Carol?” Will emerged from the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry about supper, but . . . Oh, what’s this?”

  “I brought Greek take-out. And this is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” She handed him the rose.

  “Oh, sweetheart, just like our first year. The day we got engaged.”

  He remembered! Not only that, but his face glowed with love.

  “Let me put these down so I can give you a hug.” She headed for the kitchen.

  “Before you go in there . . .”

  But she’d already opened the door. Toenails skittered across the tile and a floppy-eared spaniel pup hurled itself at her feet. “What the . . . ?” She stared at Will.

  “We were missing Pepper. I thought . . .”

  Oh, yes! “You thought right.” She dumped the bags and picked up the adorable puppy, a squirming bundle of warmth that kept trying to lick her face. Dodging his tongue, she dropped a kiss on the top of his soft head. “Aren’t you adorable?”