For fifteen years, he had no life other than work on her and her brother’s company, and their parents were self-consumed with their busy lives, pressuring him for grandchildren. Her brother had been more of a father to her than their dad ever was, because of the career and life she led. Gawain was the only real friend her twin brother had because he closed himself off from the world.
Vanity cried harder. When her career had taken off under his direction, Gawain had also been her surrogate mother. She thought of the times when they were on the road when he did her hair and her makeup. She cried for the time when they could not afford a waxer and he had to wax her legs and lady parts.
Her brother never showed any signs of revulsion, but always did what was needed when the occasion called for his gallantry. Gawain had been her knight in shining armor. Once a week he took her on a date and they would talk about books, art, the opera, life scenarios but never about business. She loved talking to her brother. “Mina, what’s with all the tears?” he asked as he wiped away the droplets.
“I know, I’m just being stupid,” she said through her sniffles.
“Well,” he added, “how would it look if the world’s most beautiful woman was caught by the paparazzi looking like this?” She looked up at him and smiled at the reference to her modeling days.
“A professional is always camera ready,” she repeated the mantra he had taught her at the age of 13.
“That’s my beautiful girl,” he kissed her forehead and grabbed the leads of both of their horses, and they began to walk toward the stables.
Vanity had watched him over the weekend. He cooked hot dogs and burgers on the grill for the children and teen cousins. He took time out with the younger family members as they rode horses for the first time. Effortlessly and with regal bearing, he aided in the most complex tasks to the most mundane. Through it all, she noticed that the smile and inner joy that he wore for the past three years was gone.
She apologized again and said it was all her fault for the break up with Shontae, but he only added the words, “No, it is not your fault, Mina. I should have been a better man.” Gawain added nothing more to the conversation as he left for the stables to put away his horse.
18
Gathering His Courage
The realization that he was breaking away from them all came several months later at a family dinner when each time Elena, their mother, attempted to engage him in conversation, he would respond only with one or two words and in English.
Elena Devonshire, the grand dame, attempted several times and in several languages and eventually, Gawain turned his conversation to their father or to their father’s brother, James, about the upcoming fishing trip. More tears ran down Vanity’s cheeks when she inhaled the stench of a funky reality that his failed relationships were based on his warped relationship with her and their ever so proper mother.
That horrible weekend at the ranch was also an eye opener to the entire family as he refused to listen to several of the cousins’ bad business ideas. He barely spoke to Wilfred and said he was looking to take the company in a different direction and stayed huddled up with their father. The cutthroat businessman she read about in magazines, the man on the cover of the Forbes Hot 100, was the man who was in front of them this weekend. She knew then she had to let her brother go.
When Gawain was not huddled up in conversation with their father, he was making conversation with Joshua, his college pal. Joshua had come out at Gawain’s request and much of Sunday was spent in some form of planning.
Joshua, his closest friend from grad school, was the head of West Coast Marketing and Operations for Vanity’s Pleasure. Over a couple of beers, Gawain shyly told his friend about what he had been up to, only to be met with uproarious laughter.
“Josh, it’s not funny. I want a woman to love me for me,” Gawain said sheepishly.
Joshua only laughed harder. He mocked Gawain by adding, “Oh, I’m so purty, no one ever sees me for me … just my pretty Adonis face, perfectly ripped body and features…. Ooh!”
Gawain responded with several expletive compound words, each ending with “head.”
“How would you feel if every date you went on, some random woman expected you to put out, like you were some stud bull?”
“I would be okay with it,” Joshua said with a sideways grin.
“That’s what you say now. It seems cool until it happens to you. Ugly women, cute women, women who can’t speak English, women who are English and even women who can’t talk,” he told his friend.
“What do you mean, women who can’t talk?”
Gawain started pantomiming sign language, putting his hands in the air, making an O with one hand and using his index finger to poke a hole in the center of the O. Joshua cracked up laughing. Gawain didn’t find his interaction with the deaf woman to be very amusing. “Joshua, man, it took me a minute. She was trying to talk to me in sign language and I didn’t understand. Then she tried to speak, and I pretended like I didn’t understand. When she held up her hands and started poking her finger in the hole that did it for me….”
Joshua laughed so hard his beer spurted out through his nose. “I shook my head no to her and that’s when she got aggressive. She went all Marlee Matlin on me, reaching for my crotch while telling me, ‘You’d give me some if I could talk. You are discriminating against the handicapped.’” Gawain shuddered at the memory.
Joshua laughed harder because he knew what his friend was saying was true. He was still laughing when he asked, “Well, did you give her some?”
“Hell, no! It was creepy,” Gawain frowned, shuddering again. She and so many more were brazen. Some of the approaches were downright offensive.
Joshua was still smiling at Gawain, remembering how random women would come and join them, buying drinks for him, just in hopes that he would spend the evening. He didn’t envy Gawain’s life. Joshua was happily married to a wonderful woman and had two wonderful children, who were also along with him on this trip to the ranch. Gawain was envious, but did not covet what Joshua had. He just wanted something similar for himself.
Once the laughter subsided, Joshua helped Gawain formulate a plan. “Buddy, if you’re going to do the online thing, opt to not show any photos or webcams.”
Joshua continued by advising his friend to not give a name or phone number until he was really ready to meet the lady. “Start with real conversations first while finding out what SHE really wants. Tell her up front what your end desire is,” he was about to continue but stopped short. “What is your end desire?” he asked looking confused.
Gawain thought for a minute. When he finally came up with the answer, he said, “I want to be married and have children right away. I want to start a vineyard in wine country.”
Joshua suggested that the courtship take a year, and at the end, he should know for certain if she is the one for him and if they could make it work.
“Buddy,” Joshua added, “you must remember to plan for the marriage, not just the wedding and family.” Gawain nodded in understanding, his quest has just been altered.
There was a mountain to scale first before he could address the dragon.
19
Prepping for the Quest
Gawain had spent most of the night and the wee hours of the morning going over the numbers and what he saw did not look promising. If his calculations were correct, the Asian markets would need to be restructured, new commodities would need to be added to balance some upcoming deficits, and it was going to be a hard winter. Around 4 a.m. the numbers began to distort and it made little if any difference, for the final summation remained the same. He saved the report, encrypted and renamed the file, attached it to an email, and forwarded it to Chicago.
He shut down his system and headed to bed with random thoughts flooding his mind that did not involve nanotechnology, bok choy, bamboo, ginseng, or any other imported Asian commodity. Gawain’s thoughts were processing a woman, a potential friend, and quite possibly a p
otential lover.
Guinevere was a person he was actually looking forward to talking to about her dreams, her life, and her hopes and fears. I am about to court some random woman I met on the Internet via a post office box. What am I thinking?
Other thoughts that zoomed through his head focused on how to bring his A-game to a PO Box and over the Internet.
That damned Joshua! He trusted his friend, though, and trusted him enough to hire him to head up West Coast operations. More importantly, he trusted him with something even more precious. He had left him alone with sister, which was something he never did with any man outside of their family.
He felt nervous and headed to the kitchen. He needed a nice glass of wine to bring him down a bit so he could sleep. As he took the wine from the cooler, it hit him. Perfect, he thought. He knew exactly what to send once he received her post office box address. But for now, he needed some sleep.
20
The First Date
Guinevere paced back and forth in her kitchen waiting for one o’clock so she could log in and chat with Gawain. She had a made a mental list of all the things she wanted to know about him, starting with what he did for a living. The excitement she was feeling froze in her veins as suddenly a chill ran through her and doubt began to surface. The PO Box thing was raising red flags and she didn’t think she could do it. If she just didn’t log in again, or say another word, or go back on that damned dating site … ever … all would be well.
As her fears began to bubble up to the surface, her screen pinged and she slowly walked to the computer. She had forgotten she had logged in to her personal email account, and the Yahoo browser was open. She dragged her feet as if she expected to see a dead body around the corner, and she peered at the screen.
IT WAS HIM!!!!
Her anxiety was taking over. She could feel the nerves signaling the start of a full-blown panic attack. She was two seconds from hyperventilating until she glanced at the screen. He was chatting with her through Yahoo versus the dating site.
Gawain: My morning seemed to just drag as I counted down the final 15 minutes until I was able to talk to you again
.
Her fears came to a stop as she thought about how she had been waiting to chat with him as well. She sat down behind the desk and pondered what her next words to him should be. She opted for honesty.
Guinevere: I was having a moment of panic, wondering what I was getting myself into here.
Gawain: Understandable
Guinevere: Really?
Gawain: Yes, this is uncharted territory for me as well.
Guinevere: You seem to be pretty confident at what you are doing
Gawain: The only thing I am confident about is there seems to be a spark between you and me.
Guinevere: A spark?
Gawain: Something about you resonated with me and I have a question for you.
Guinevere: Okay, fire away.
Gawain What would you consider to be the perfect first date?
Guinevere began to recount for Gawain all the things she felt were important on a first date, as well as the things that were not. Getting physical and intimate on a first date was at the top of her list of things that were not okay. The conversation continued until her fingers began to hurt and about 4 hours later, they both had to call it an evening.
Guinevere: It’s getting late. I have an early morning.
Gawain: And I have a midday flight.
Guinevere: To Chicago?
Gawain: Yes, I am getting there ahead of time, so I should have a quiet evening, but I have a lot of prep to do for my Tuesday meeting.
Guinevere: So you will be home on Tuesday?
Gawain: Hopefully, if all goes well. Is it okay if I email you my availability with my PO Box info?
Guinevere: Oh, you are still going to do that?
Gawain: First thing in the morning, before I hit SFO. Will you as well?
Guinevere: Of course. Have a good night.
Gawain: You too, Milady.
21
Plotting the Course
There were three post offices between her condo and the lab. Guinevere chose the one in Plainsboro and listed the organization as Guinevere Enterprises. She felt like she was doing something naughty, but was exhilarated by the concept of going to a PO Box and taking out a goody.
She paid for a yearlong rental and tucked the key away in her bag, before heading towards the lab. Logging in to the network, she opened her Yahoo account and sent a quick message to [email protected] that simply stated:
Guinevere Reciprocal Marketing
P.O. Box 890
Plainsboro, NJ 08536-1604
She went into the lab and began work on GGU285.
Gawain stopped at the post office on his way to SFO and paid for a year’s rental. His boss called as he exited the building and wanted to make sure he was on his way to board a plane. There were some new developments and they were scheduled to meet as soon as he landed and would be working through the night.
His spirits began to sink and he thought about his smart phone. Once he checked in, he would sync it again with his Yahoo account to make sure all messages came through. He smiled to himself because he realized he was actually starting to like Guinevere. He just wondered if she would follow through on the PO Box.
His phone pinged and a simple message came through: PO Box 685 in Plainsboro.
Reciprocal Marketing. Clever. Smart girl, nothing too close to what was possibly her home and nothing too close to her work locale I guess.
He responded with a brief, “Got it. Boarding now, write you later – G.”
Oh yeah, he was starting to like her. He was starting to like his life again. A day on his job, not so much – that was turning into a nightmare.
The plane was late taking off and they sat on the tarmac for almost 45 minutes. The entire plane ride was spent reviewing the numbers and it continued in the car the company sent for him to ride in from the airport. The moment he walked into the office, it was one meeting after another.
He had a late lunch, then phone and conference calls to Asian contacts and his head was hurting. In the past four hours he had spoken four languages, translated two documents, and eaten something he knew he should not have. His boss, William Underwood, tried to help, but was of little use.
At about 7 p.m., Gawain suggested everyone head home, shake it off, and start again fresh at 10 a.m. It was almost 9:30 before he had a chance to respond to Guinevere and let her know his schedule. When he got back to hotel and collapsed in a chair, loosened his tie and exhaled, he took out his smart phone and replied in a quick message:
Long night, even longer day tomorrow, back in SF on Thursday by 2ish. PO Box 2453, San Francisco 94124-2643 —Sir Gawain.
The next three days floated by in a haze. His assistant placed the order for that perfect item and sent it to Guinevere Enterprises in Plainsboro. He handed over an envelope and asked for it to be mailed to the same address. Since breaking up with Shontae, he avoided heading down to shipping and receiving for anything.
Gawain stressed the importance of the envelope getting there in two days’ time. On his second day in Chicago, his assistant was out and he was forced to share with Bob, another VP on the other side of the floor. The young lady flirted with him as she took the information, which resulted in a disapproving look from Gawain.
She responded with a look that radiated, “You must be gay.”
Carol from accounting walked by, and he winked at her. She blushed in a way that conveyed an intimacy between the two. She threw her pinky and thumb up to her face with the universal symbol of “call me” and he nodded with a sexy grin that he intentionally held until he looked back at the assistant. Gawain looked at young lady and shrugged his shoulders, with a smirk that intimated “whaddaya gonna do?”
“Please make sure you get that to Plainsboro by Thursday morning. It’s important when I follow up with the client.” He turned her desk plate around so he could s
ee her name. “And thanks a bunch, Tamiko.”
He liked women, loved them even. He just was not interested in leading on a young lady for a tryst that he knew held no future. He could not say that she wasn’t his type. She was a woman. He wasn’t certain if he had a type. He usually wanted what truly wanted him and he never really gave much thought to which traits were important to him – well, that was until now.
His job was important to him. Doing his job well and being successful at his chosen field was also important to him. When he was in the Chicago offices, he usually kept his phone off and routed all the calls through the main switchboard. Anything of importance was delivered to him on a note and everything else went to his voicemail. At the end of the day he returned the needed calls but during the day, he did not lose his focus on the tasks at hand.
But by Wednesday afternoon, he was dead on his feet, his brain was tired, his feelings were hurt and he just wanted to slink home and crawl into bed. He sent Guinevere a quick note that said his brain was cramped and he needed sleep and was looking forward to chatting with her on Thursday night.
By some unknown miracle, he had saved their investors millions of dollars, found a new developing technology, and identified new growers in Thailand. Early-morning Thursday he lumbered onto a plane, refused a drink, and slept all the way back. After landing, he grabbed his overnight bag and dragged it to his car. Once behind the wheel he turned his phone back on and had a message from Guinevere.
Courting Guinevere (The Davonshire Series Book 1) Page 13