by Lyn Cote
Gaudy was the word that leaped to Spring’s mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn—”
“Try them.” Aunty pushed them into her hands.
Feeling like some bizarre Cinderella, Spring obediently kicked off her comfortable pumps and slipped on the heels. Her feet looked like they belonged to someone else.
“Now walk up and down the room in front of my wall mirror,” Aunty ordered.
Spring wanted to refuse, but stiffened her resolve. She did want Marco to see her as more than just an “old college acquaintance” this evening. Maybe golden slippers would jar him into reassessing her. Without glancing at the mirror, she walked back and forth across the large room. The height of the heels made her feel wobbly. They shortened her stride, too. In spite of these reactions, Spring tried to walk naturally.
Aunt Geneva studied her. “Ivory is a good color for you. I like that sundress. It’s a little long, but it skims your figure nicely.”
Spring didn’t know what to say to this, so she gave no reply. Aunty had taught her all about fashion, but she’d never mentioned how to attract men with one’s style.
“I think that jacket has to come off, though.”
Spring paused. “I thought it might be a little cool this evening.”
“Then, carry it over your arm. And if you need it, be sure to ask Marco to put it around you. It’s just the kind of intimate gesture that you should use to snag his interest.”
Spring closed her eyes, wondering if she was still in her right mind. I don’t do things like this. But she obediently removed the matching linen jacket and laid it across her arm.
“Look at yourself as you walk.”
Spring glanced up and gave her aunt a quizzical look. “What?”
“You need more sway to take full advantage of the high-heel effect,” Aunty explained as she motioned with her hands.
“What’s the high-heel effect?” Spring stared at her.
“Look in the mirror.”
Spring obeyed. “What am I looking for?”
Aunty rolled her eyes in mock dismay. “Don’t you see how it makes your legs look longer and how it tips you just a bit forward?”
Drawing close, Spring studied herself in the wall mirror, turned sideways. She did appear a bit different. “You’re right. I never knew!”
Aunty shook her head and muttered something Spring couldn’t understand. “Dear, I wouldn’t ask you to make these little changes, but you’re trying to attract a man who ignores women, ignores a woman like you! You have to shake him out of this, this…fog he’s in!” Aunty stepped back and scanned her niece.
Spring pursed her lips. “This just doesn’t feel like me….”
“It’s just a side of you we haven’t let out before.”
Sighing, Spring decided to let the changes Aunty had made stand. Marco seemed a true challenge for her to tackle with her first attempt at being…approachable.
“Anything else?” Spring propped one hand on her hip.
Drawing close, Aunty gave her a quick hug. “One more thing. Come over to my jewelry case.”
Aunty’s antique oak jewelry armoire stood three-feet high next to her vintage gilded vanity table. While Aunty sat, opening and closing drawers, she motioned Spring to settle on the adjacent chair. “Ah, this is just what we want.” She held up a thin gold Y chain. “Dr. Da Palma needs a little direction, and this will keep his eyes on you.” She slipped the gossamer chain over Spring’s head and arranged it so that the two golden teardrop ends dangled above the sundress’s V neckline.
Spring shivered as the chain settled onto her sensitive skin. Oh, Lord, this just seems so artificial, so planned. I want Marco to notice me, just for me. Do I really need to make this effort? Is this just a silly crush I should have gotten over—
Her aunt’s musical doorbell rang.
Spring’s heart leaped into her dry throat. She drew in a deep breath, then rose and picked up her jacket.
“This is it,” Aunty murmured, beaming with anticipation. “I dare Dr. Da Palma to ignore you tonight!”
Spring nodded, feeling a bit queasy. But she didn’t give in to the weakness. She marched down the hall toward the door.
“Slow down, dear!” Aunty urged in an undertone.
Spring slowed and tried to walk more femininely, or in a way Aunt Geneva would think looked more feminine. I feel like a mannequin in a department store! This just isn’t me, Lord!
As Matilde opened the door for Marco, she beamed at Spring.
Spring looked up and caught Marco’s expression. Framed by the doorway, wearing a dark suit, he looked handsome, but as uncomfortable as she felt.
A rush of excitement caught her by surprise. At last, she was going out with Marco. Never mind that she’d had to do the asking. To gain control, she inhaled, then said in a friendly tone, “Good evening, Marco. You’re right on time.”
“I have early rounds at seven tomorrow morning,” he said with a straight face.
Matilde exhaled loudly, then scolded, “This is not the time to talk of work! You pick up a lovely señorita and you already tell her you will not take her out for long?” She finished with a tart-sounding Spanish phrase.
Marco looked pained.
Matilde made him feel silly, just as her aunt was exasperating her.
Better get a move on! Picking up her handbag from the hall table, Spring stepped over the threshold past Marco. “Don’t wait up for me, Aunty.” Where had that come from? An old movie?
She walked on, trying to remember to walk like…what? A movie star? Fashion model?
Marco hurried after her.
She reached his car first but waited for him. She tensed as he drew near.
“Is there something wrong with your lower back?” Marco opened the car door for her. “You’re walking a little differently than usual.”
Spring groaned inside but gave him a bright smile. “New shoes.”
“Maybe you should exchange them for ones with a different heel. Those don’t look very comfortable.” He slid into the car next to her.
Good grief. Was Marco even impervious to the “high-heel effect”? “I’ll keep that in mind. Where are we going?”
“I don’t know.” He started the car and drove down the drive. “Where would you like to go?”
Marco’s lime aftershave filled the small space of the front seat. Spring’s mind went blank. “Anywhere is fine.”
“All right.”
She tried to think of another topic, but nothing came to mind. Fortunately, Marco drove without asking further questions.
Ten minutes later, he led her into a modest Greek restaurant near the downtown section by the hospital. A middle-aged waitress with a thick accent seated them and handed them menus.
Spring held the menu and gazed around her at the unprepossessing restaurant—a counter, tables, booths and nondescript carpet and neutral colors. For this, she had scrutinized her whole Florida wardrobe and suffered three-inch heels?
“We can go somewhere else, if you like.” Glancing over his menu at her, Marco looked unsure of himself.
“No, this is fine. Do you eat here often?”
“It’s near the hospital.”
“I see.” Her flattened tone must have nicked him.
“I’m sorry it’s not very special, but I know the food is good here,” he said, sounding defensive.
“You misunderstood me. I love Greek food. I just thought…” How could she fault him? She’d forced him to take her out. But he’d brought her to the restaurant he ate at frequently because it was near the hospital and had good food. This proved true every worry Aunt Geneva and Matilde had. The man had no clue about dating! Even if Matilde hadn’t already told them, Spring knew now that Marco didn’t date much. He didn’t even have a regular “date” place or two ready when needed.
“I thought of taking you to the country club, but then people might have thought we were actually dating.”
Stung, Spring demanded, “Would that ha
ve ruined your reputation or mine?”
“What?” Marco eyed her with suspicion.
Spring bit her lower lip. The man was impossible. She’d seen an English comedy where the husband and wife were arguing in the kitchen and the wife had begun throwing the carrots she was peeling at the husband. Now Spring knew just how the woman had felt!
She eyed the basket of hard rolls on the table, but decided against tossing any at Marco. He’d probably have her rushed to the psych ward at the hospital across the way.
The morose waitress returned. Spring ordered the moussaka and Marco ordered the gyros dinner. The waitress walked away, and Spring and Marco just stared at one another.
“Have you given any thought to how I can gracefully get out of the garden show committee?” Marco picked out a roll as though trying to do something to cover his uneasiness.
Stalling, Spring scanned the other couples eating at the tables around them. How could Marco have brought her here for a cozy dinner? Most appeared to be medical employees or lone people who might have relatives at the hospital. No doubt the food here ranked above the hospital cafeteria’s. She supposed she should be grateful Marco hadn’t taken her there!
To Spring’s left, however, sat a young couple in a booth. She could tell they were on a date. She studied the girl’s posture. She was leaning forward with her elbows on the table, closer to her young man. Spring frowned. She’d been raised to never put her elbows on the table. But she needed to learn how to appear…available.
Spring gingerly set one elbow on the table and leaned forward a little.
“Well?” Marco insisted. “Have you thought of an out for me?”
Spring looked into his mahogany-brown eyes and was snared. She couldn’t look away. Oh, Marco, notice me. I can’t help noticing you.
“Is something wrong?”
Startled back to the present, she gave him a bright, persuasive smile. “No! I have some…information for you.” She leaned closer to him.
“You make it sound like it’s something I don’t want to hear.”
The girl to Spring’s left giggled and leaned farther forward on the tabletop. Spring quickly looked away. I’m not a teenager!
She settled back against her seat, letting her hands drop to her lap. “You must promise not to repeat this, because they meant well.”
“Who meant well and about what?”
“My aunt and her two friends are concerned that you work too hard and don’t take any time for fun.”
Marco stared at her, his lips parted in surprise.
Well, she certainly had his attention now. She imagined leaning across the table and touching his lips with her fingertips. That unquestionably would be a signal of her interest in him—but they were in a Greek restaurant, not on lovers’ lane. Lord, I’m no good at this. Show me how to let him know I’d like to find out if we could be more than old college acquaintances.
The waitress intruded silently, setting in front of them their Greek salads, fragrant of herbed oil-and-vinegar dressing, and their tall glasses of iced tea with generous lemon wedges. Then she left them.
Marco picked up his fork, but merely held it in his hand. “Fun? Are you trying to tell me the garden show meetings are being held for my amusement?”
Spring sighed. The girl to her left traced the rim of her soft drink glass and flirted with her eyes. Spring copied the tracing movement, but didn’t flirt. She didn’t feel up to it now.
“Marco, the ladies have watched you grow up. They are very proud of your success, happy they were able to be of help to you. But their interest in you doesn’t stop with your becoming their doctor.” Help me, Lord. Please don’t let this sound lame. “They want to see you happy and…having fun.” She left out happily married, for obvious reasons.
He stared at her.
She traced the rim of her iced tea glass, then took a sip of lemon tea to moisten her dry mouth. The teenage girl gave a provocative giggle. Who had taught her how to do that?
“You have got to be kidding.” He looked at her with desperate eyes.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Are you sure this is…why I’m on that committee?”
She nodded.
He put down his fork. “Why do they care?”
She glanced again into his dark eyes. She knew many men didn’t easily comprehend human relationships. Father did, but his job had included counseling so he’d studied human psychology and listened to Mother.
“Because they are good people. They like you.”
“But I worked as a caddie at the club. I washed dishes there. I was just a young immigrant boy who qualified for scholarships…”
She straightened. Did he believe that nonsense? Is that how he saw himself? “So you were a caddie. What does that matter? Don’t you realize that most of the Golden Sands members are self-made men and women? They succeeded and they wanted you to succeed, too. What’s so mysterious about that?”
His intense gaze made her face warm with a blush. “My aunt Geneva was the daughter of a carpenter. She and her husband served in World War II. After the war, her husband took the risk of becoming a contractor and made his money in the postwar building boom. Eleanor is the daughter of immigrants from Russia, and Verna Rae’s family were farmers. None of them was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.”
Marco turned this new idea over in his mind. The people at the country club viewed him as…what? Something like a son, a protégé? Was that possible? “I always felt…” He looked to Spring. “I never thought of it that way before.”
She nodded. A gold chain glimmered around her ivory neck. Something was different about Spring tonight. Her serenity didn’t appear quite as complete as usual. Why wasn’t a beautiful and elegant woman like her married by now?
“But what has that and the garden show meetings got to do with having fun?”
She smiled, though her mouth looked stiff, disapproving. “They want you to take time to enjoy your success.” She folded her hands like a bridge over her salad. “Aunty says the older one gets, the more one treasures the intangibles of life. They won their success with hard work, but they know what success costs. I think the three ladies want you to learn earlier than their own husbands did that all of us should take time—”
“To smell the roses?” he finished for her, his tone terse.
Spring gazed back at him with a serious expression, then tensed, “Well, if you help with the garden show, you certainly will be in a position to do that.” She took a bite of a tomato wedge, and eyed him while she chewed.
He squirmed under her regard. “So that means I can’t just resign from the committee?”
She took another sip of iced tea. “I have an alternative to suggest.”
Her every move was so graceful, it was hard for him to look away. “What?”
“You need to show that you’re taking time to have some fun. What hobbies do you have?”
Forking up some of the salad, he considered her question. Spring’s beauty distracted him. Swallowing, he shook his head. “No hobbies.”
Spring made a face at him. “You caddied. Did you ever play golf?”
He shook his head. “No time.”
She sighed loudly. “There’s another matter I haven’t mentioned, but which the ladies are also concerned about.”
“About me?”
“Yes.” She skewered a Kalamata olive and popped it into her mouth.
His mouth went dry. “I’m afraid to ask.”
She lifted her eyebrows.
“All right.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll bite. What else am I neglecting?”
“You’re not dating.”
After dinner, Marco walked with Spring to the parking lot and opened her car door for her.
“It’s a bit chilly. Help me with my jacket?” Looking over her shoulder, she handed it to him.
He took it and helped her slide her slender arms into the sleeves. When he pulled it up around her neck, she reached up to adjust the c
ollar and her fingers brushed his. Warmth rushed through him.
She slid inside the car. “Thanks.”
Reeling from his reaction to her, he nodded, then walked around and let himself into the driver’s seat. All that Spring had said to him seemed to parade in his mind like announcements on one of those lighted marquees you saw on TV: THE GOLDEN SANDS LADIES THINK YOU WORK TOO MUCH… THEY’VE WATCHED YOU GROW UP AND ARE PROUD OF YOU…. THEY THINK YOU SHOULD BE DATING….
The messages boggled his mind. Spring’s nearness had breached his carefully tended defenses, sending disconcerting sensations through him.
“Will you think over my suggestion?” Spring asked.
He tried to focus on her words. “You mean, that I need a hobby?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it will get me off the committee?” He still had a hard time believing what she’d explained.
“If they see that you’re having fun—”
“With you?” This suggestion was the most dangerous to his equilibrium. Spring affected him too much. He’d mapped out his life. A woman like her would never be within his reach.
“Well, is there someone else you’d prefer?” She glanced at him in the low light.
Someone else? Anyone else! He kept emotion out of his voice. “No, but no one would believe that you’d be interested in dating someone like me—”
“Someone like you,” Spring snapped. “What’s wrong with you?”
Her words stung him. “After all you said at dinner, if I didn’t know you better, didn’t know you are as truthful as the day is long, I’d think you were nuts!”
“If you think that I’m somehow beyond you, you are nuts. You seemed to have a really off-kilter way of looking at yourself, Golden Sands and me.”
She said he was “nuts.” Spring had always spoken so formally. He had to bring her to her senses. She had to face reality. “At the university, you pledged at one of the most exclusive sororities. You weren’t on scholarship and working—”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Marco. My father is a pastor of a small church in Wisconsin. We aren’t a wealthy family.” Her words surged over him. “Aunt Geneva paid my way through college and insisted I pledge a sorority. She also helped both my sisters with their educations. But since I decided to go to school here, Aunt Geneva helped me more. I told you that you have some funny ideas about my family, about me.”