An Old-Fashioned Romance

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Okay,” Breck managed.

  Everyone at the table was silent—all five sets of eyes intent on Reese Thatcher as he sauntered away. And then Breck knew it would start. And it did.

  “I cannot believe you haven’t pinched that rear end,” Trixie teased.

  “I cannot believe you haven’t thrown him down on your desk and smooched him!” Kay added.

  “I cannot believe that he noticed we were all wearing pumpkin sweaters,” was Sherryl’s contribution.

  “I cannot believe that you didn’t run over there and claw that hoochie’s eyes out…just a friend or not!” Barb concluded.

  I cannot believe was a sort of verbal game that Breck and her friends played quite often during their conversations and adventures. And it was Breck’s turn.

  “I cannot believe that you guys are so crazy!” Breck exclaimed in a whisper. Then they all started to giggle, and Breck relaxed once more.

  Reese couldn’t help but glance over to the table where Breck and her friends were finishing up their lunch. He’d never heard such giggling and goings-on, and it made him smile. He suspected that Breck was completely caught off guard by his presence at Marcelli’s, and he had enjoyed the look on her face when one of her friends had askÓed if the woman with him were his girlfriend.

  Of course, he knew that the woman with him, Meagan Jetta, wanted to be his girlfriend. She’d made it quite obvious many, many times. But Meagan wasn’t for him. She was nice, pretty, and fun—enjoyable to go to lunch with—as a friend. But he wanted nothing more serious where she was concerned.

  In fact, he felt bad that he kept glancing to Breck’s table, his mind wandering from the conversation he was having with Meagan.

  “Your secretary is a little obnoxious, Reese,” Meagan said. “And what’s with all the pumpkin sweaters anyway?”

  Reese smiled. He wasn’t angry with Meagan. He had neglected their conversation since seeing Breck at the restaurant.

  Picking up his glass, he took a drink of water and said, “Apparently it’s a Pumpkin Sweater Club meeting.”

  Meagan rolled her eyes and breathed, “Whatever.” Then looking at her watch, she gasped and said, “Oh! I’ve got to run, Reese! I’ve got an appointment at Jenkins and Jenkins in ten minutes. Thanks for lunch.”

  “Sure,” Reese said as Meagan hopped up and left the table.

  He felt guilty for being so relieved that she was gone. Now he could spy on Breck and her friends in private. However, when he looked over to their table, it was to see Breck waving and walking away. He watched as her friends lingered, whispering among themselves and glancing over at him. One of them hopped up and went to the window that overlooked the parking lot. And then, much to his dismay and delight, the four women rose from their table and began walking toward him.

  When they reached his table, it was the skinny blonde who found the nerve to speak first.

  “Um…excuse us. Mr. Thatcher?” the skinny blonde said.

  “Yeah,” Reese said, his curiosity more than piqued.

  “Hi, I’m Sherryl Foster,” the skinny blonde began, “Breck McCall’s friend.”

  “Yes, we’ve met. Did you forget already?” Reese teased.

  “Oh, no. Of course not,” the woman assured him.

  “What can I do for you ladies?”

  The four young women giggled like high school cheerleaders talking to the captain of the football team—their eyes lit up with mischievous excitement.

  “Well,” Sherryl Foster began, “Breck’s birthday is next Friday.”

  “Her twenty-first birthday,” the dark brunette added. “I’m Trixie,” she whispered aside to him.

  “Yes,” Sherryl confirmed, then continued, “and we’ve just come up with the greatest idea for her birthday dinner. And…and…”

  “And we were hoping you’d be willing to help us out,” the lighter brunette finished.

  “Oh, really?” Reese asked.

  “Barb,” the lighter brunette told him. This was getting interesting. He was very intrigued. A surprise for Breck’s birthday with these four chatterboxes involved would certainly be something to behold.

  “Kay,” the other blonde said. She nodded and then continued, “Now, don’t worry. It doesn’t involve a giant cake or you in nothing but a bow tie and your underwear.”

  Reese chuckled. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “Although,” the darker brunette said to the lighter one, “that would be a nice finale for Breck’s birthday dinner.”

  Reese chuckled as he watched their faces. It seemed they actually considered the idea for a moment—then realized exactly what had been suggested and began shaking their heads in unison.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the skinny blonde said. “A bit over the edge for a public display.”

  “For Breck anyway,” the lighter brunette noted.

  These friends of Breck’s were funny, and it made him wish he could’ve been a fly on the wall when Breck had been with them at lunch.

  “What is your plan, ladies?” Reese asked. He grinned, amused at the way they all looked one to the other in such a mischievous, conspiratorial manner.

  “Well, Mr. Reese Thatcher,” the dark brunette began, “Kay here is a fabulous seamstress.”

  ❦

  Thirty minutes later, Reese Thatcher sat in his pickup in Marcelli’s parking lot. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to be involved in such a mess! For a moment he felt sorry for Breck. The attention would, no doubt, mortify her. Still, a girl who wore pumpkin-themed sweaters every day in October and owned friends who would concoct such a scheme—there was definitely more to Breck McCall than met the eye. Of course, he’d suspected that from the moment he’d hired her.

  Still, he wondered what on earth had gotten into him. Shaking his head, he turned the key in the ignition. It was about time he did something fun—something to take his mind off the ghosts in his past, the muck he was knee-deep in at work. Pumpkin sweaters—that gave him another idea. Picking up his cell, he dialed and waited for an answer at the other end.

  “Hi, Mom,” he greeted. “I need a favor.”

  ❦

  Her lunch with the girls had completely revitalized Breck. Back at work and sitting at her desk once more, she felt refreshed and not so resentful about the condition of the world. She wished she could meet the girls more often, but at least she had dinner next Friday with them to look forward to. She smiled, knowing they’d make her twenty-first birthday dinner at Marcelli’s a memorable one indeed. She suspected they had something wild up their sleeves, and it would be hard to wait over a week to find out what it was.

  “Seems like you’ve got a good group of friends there, Breck,” Reese Thatcher said as he approached her desk.

  Breck felt herself blush. It had been so startling to see him at Marcelli’s—so irritating to see him with that woman—so frightening to sit and wonder what her friends might say when they met him. Her emotions were in turmoil. Not to mention he looked particularly handsome at that moment. Lunch at Marcelli’s seemed to agree with just about anybody.

  “Yeah. They’re a bunch of fun,” she said.

  “They certainly seem to be,” he said, smiling. Breck blushed, flustered—wondering what else he’d witnessed of her luncheon at Marcelli’s.

  He turned to walk into his office but paused and looked back at her.

  Pointing an index finger at her, he said, “Did I tell you, ‘Nice pumpkin sweater,’ yet today?”

  Breck smiled at his teasing manner. “Yes, sir. You did.”

  He winked at her and closed his office door behind him.

  He seemed oddly relaxed, Breck mused. But the smile left her face when she began to wonder if it were simply lunch at Marcelli’s that had given him a lift. Or was it the woman—rather, the hoochie—he’d been lunching with?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Breck’s twenty-first birthday dawned on a perfectly crisp and cool autumn morning. October’s end brought with it a feel of frost in the ai
r. Tired trees were shedding the last of their leaves of reds and gold, and piles of pumpkins dotted the front porches of Colorado suburbia. Breck felt more lighthearted than usual as she waited for the elevator doors to open onto the fourteenth floor and the Wilson Investigation offices.

  In fact, she felt so excited—anxiously anticipating dinner at Marcelli’s with Trixie, Sherryl, Barb, and Kay—that when the elevator doors did open at last, she rushed forward, plowing into Marty Sprague from accounting. The files Marty had been holding under his arms went flying everywhere, scattering quite efficiently over the floor in front of the elevator.

  “Oh, Marty!” Breck exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Marty smiled down at Breck. “That’s okay, Breck. No problem.”

  Breck returned Marty’s friendly smile, on her guard however—for it was unspoken but public knowledge throughout the office that Marty more than admired Breck. He was a handsome one too­—tall, very well built, and with brown hair and green eyes that flashed like emeralds when he was looking at something he liked. And his eyes were certainly flashing as he watched Breck drop to her knees and begin gathering his papers.

  He hunkered down to help her retrieve the innards of his files, and Breck felt the heat of his stare on the top of her head.

  “Rumor has it that today’s your birthday,” he said as they scooped up papers.

  “Well, for once the ol’ rumor mill is correct,” Breck admitted. Even though Marty’s attention unnerved her a bit, he’d never made any inappropriate advances toward her. He’d asked her out several times, and Breck had enjoyed his company well enough, but that was all—casual friendship. No butterflies took flight in her stomach when he entered the room; no goose bumps broke over her flesh at his touch. And that was what Breck wanted—butterflies and goose bumps.

  “Not to spoil the surprise,” Marty began, “but they’ve got a cake and are all waiting in the break room for you. The standard birthday snacks here at Wilson.”

  Breck smiled, pleased to work for a firm that recognized employees in such a kind manner.

  “How neat,” she said, smiling.

  “I thought you’d think so,” Marty chuckled.

  All the papers having been gathered, Marty pushed the elevator down button on the wall and waited for his transportation to arrive.

  “So…happy birthday, Breck,” he told her, smiling.

  “Thank you,” she said, returning his smile.

  The elevator doors opened, and Marty stepped in, turning to face her again. “Oh,” he added, “and that’s a nice pumpkin sweater you’re wearing today.”

  Breck giggled and tossed him a friendly wave as the elevator doors closed. Sighing heavily, she turned to greet Patty. Patty wore her familiar, captivating smile that seemed to please and comfort anyone who saw it. A person couldn’t help but smile back at Patty—her smile was that agreeable.

  “He’s sweet on you, you know,” Patty told her.

  “Sweet on me, Patty?” Breck giggled. “Patty, you sound like my grandma.”

  “Well, he is,” Patty assured her.

  Breck’s smile faded a bit at the thought of what a handsome and kind young man Marty was. Why couldn’t she like him? He was perfect. Wasn’t he? No—sadly he wasn’t. Not when you stood him next to Reese Thatcher. And that, after all, was the whole problem. It seemed no matter how nice a man was—how handsome or polite—Breck kept comparing him to her boss—her gorgeous, kind, out-of-reach boss. Reese Thatcher possessed a sort of vintage masculinity. It would be hard for any man to compete with that rare quality. Still, Breck knew how unobtainable Reese was to her, so it bothered her that his presence in her life would keep her from gravitating to a good man like Marty. But fact was fact—and Marty just wasn’t the zinger.

  “And a happy birthday to you, Breck!” Patty added.

  “Thanks, Patty,” Breck said. It was nice to have such kind and sincere birthday wishes—two already and she’d only just stepped off the elevator.

  “I’ve got a little something for you,” Patty told her, rising from her seat behind the reception desk and handing Breck a small package.

  “Patty!” Breck exclaimed. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  Patty smiled and nodded. “I know. But I wanted to. You’re just such a sweet girl, Breck. You deserve to have some special attention on your birthday.”

  Breck giggled. “Can I open it now?”

  Patty smiled. “Of course.”

  Breck admired the pretty wrapping of the package for a moment—pink paper with lavender and yellow ribbon tied around it. Then she quickly slid the ribbon off and tore away the paper to reveal a white box. Opening the box, she withdrew its contents and gasped with surprise and delight.

  “Oh, Patty!” she exclaimed as she held the lovely snow globe in her hand. The globe housed a dainty fairy with wings of gold and green, sitting on a large pumpkin. Furthermore, instead of the traditional white snow that usually furled around when one shook or turned such a globe upside down, swirling Patty’s gifted globe revealed tiny red, orange, and yellow leaves raining down on the pretty autumn fairy and her pumpkin throne. It was so beautiful and such an obviously personal gift that it brought tears to Breck’s eyes for a moment.

  “Patty,” Breck said in a whisper, “it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Truly!”

  Patty smiled, delighted with Breck’s reaction.

  “Well,” she began, “when Mr. Thatcher pointed out to me the other day that you’d been wearing pumpkin sweaters all month…well, I saw this in that little gift shop on Burlington, and…well…you just had to have it!”

  Breck felt her heart rather leap in her bosom at the knowledge that not only had Reese Thatcher noticed her pumpkin sweaters, he’d talked about them to Patty. Impulsively she threw her arms around Patty’s neck, hugging her.

  “Thank you so much, Patty,” Breck told her. “You’ll never know how much I love this and how much your thoughtfulness means.”

  Patty returned her embrace and then said, “You deserve it, Breck. You’re the nicest girl here.” Breck smiled as Patty smiled at her. “There’s something different about you, you know,” Patty told her. “You’re…well, it’s as if you…I don’t know. It’s like you’re from somewhere else…somewhere other than a big city. I think your heart is sweeter…more kind than most.”

  Breck smiled—touched beyond description at the woman’s tender words.

  “Now, you get on into your office. Mr. Thatcher was pacing the floors early this morning. I’m sure something is up with that Allen case. I heard him talking to Mrs. Allen on his cell as he stepped off the elevator,” Patty told her.

  Breck smiled. “Thank you again, Patty. It’s so beautiful.”

  “You’re very welcome, Breck,” Patty said.

  When Breck arrived at her desk, Reese was nowhere to be seen. So she set her lovely new snow globe—or rather, leaf globe—on her desk and tried to get to work. But she found it hard to concentrate. All she could think about was dinner at Marcelli’s that night with the girls and, of course, Reese Thatcher. Seeing him at Marcelli’s with an unknown woman the week before had greatly disturbed Breck. For some reason, the jealousy she felt every time she thought of it churned in her like an intestinal virus. She hadn’t been able to get past it all week, and it bothered her. Furthermore, the physical reactions her body had been having in Reese’s presence had also increased over the past few days. She felt rather shaken whenever he was around—nervous, giggly, uncertain of herself. It was driving her nuts!

  And where was he anyway? Patty had made it sound as if he’d be waiting right there for her, ready to rant and rave about the Allen case.

  Breck’s phone rang then, and she answered it to find Barb on the other end.

  “Happy birthday, Breck!” her friend greeted. “Mr. Wonderful around there close?”

  “Haven’t seen him yet,” Breck answered, lowering her voice.

  “Don’t forget…we
’re picking you up at six-thirty sharp tonight,” Barb needlessly reminded her.

  “How could I forget,” Breck giggled. “I can’t wait!”

  At that very moment, Reese rounded the corner. A severe frown wrinkled his brow, and he was heading straight for Breck’s desk, his eyes deadlocked on her.

  “Gotta go, Barb,” Breck whispered.

  “Okay,” Barb said. “But it’s your birthday today, Breck, and he owes you something. Be sure to pinch his—”

  Breck hung up the phone before Barb had finished, for Reese now stood directly before her, glaring down at her—fury all too evident in his expression.

  “Breck, will you get Michael Allen on the phone for me?” he growled. “I have something to say to him and can’t find his number.”

  Breck sighed and adjusted the headset mike at her mouth. Reese was mad! She’d seen him like this several times before—usually when husbands or wives had done each other wrong. And fortunately she knew how to handle him—thus keeping him out of trouble.

  “I will, Mr. Thatcher,” she said calmly, “if you really want me to.”

  “I really want you to,” Reese grumbled. Still, she could see him calming down a bit.

  “Okay. But remember…you don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize Mrs. Allen or her case in any way,” she reminded him.

  Reese drew in and exhaled a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then tilted his head to one side as he looked at Breck and grinned.

  “Trying to keep me out of jail again?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. Trying,” Breck answered, smiling at him.

  She startled when Reese placed his fists on her desk and leaned toward her for a moment. Then, shaking his head and straightening to his full height once again, he said, “That man’s an…idiot.”

  Breck couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. She’d heard Reese call Michael Allen a lot of things while he was talking to various people in his office. Idiot was the tamest term he’d used.