Dates And Other Nuts

by Lori Copeland

  “What time’s your flight?” the older woman asked.

  “Seven.”

  “St. Louis?”

  “Uh-huh, and all points between.”

  Flo rummaged through her purse for a tube of lipstick. “Thanks for the ride. Guess I’ll have to break down and buy a new battery. Makes twice this week the Pinto wouldn’t start.”

  Still watching the rearview mirror intently, Temple only half listened to Flo.

  “Who are you flying with this morning?”

  “Stevens and Scott.”

  Temple glanced out the side-view window. Craig’s white Lincoln should be turning off the highway any minute. Strange how much more she looked forward to a flight when she knew they would be working together.

  Flo shook her head. “You and Craig are like a couple of kids,” she declared. “Torment the life out of each other. You two play this parking-space game every morning?”

  “Every morning we fly together.”

  “Funny you two never got together. You know, Craig’s good-looking, successful,” Flo remarked. “You’re good-looking, successful—‘Everybody good-lookin’ an’ successful,” she sang in an uplifting, spiritual rhythm with a snap of her fingers.

  “Craig and me?” Temple laughed. “No sky jockeys for me.”

  Pilots were off her list. Even Craig. Not even for Mr. Right. For some reason, though, he’d been looking awful good to her lately.

  “Besides, he was engaged to my best friend once,” she told Flo. “Things didn’t work out and she was deeply hurt. She’s still carrying a torch for him. I just wouldn’t do that to her.”

  “Temple, you’re too nice for your own good.”

  “That’s me. Took my Girl Scout oath to heart.”

  “Hmmph,” Flo said, stripping the cap off her lipstick. She’d just touched the color to her lips when Temple spotted Craig’s Lincoln and floored the pickup. The truck shot forward, pinning Flo’s neck to the headrest, sending a bright slash of Moroccan Sunset lipstick streaking past her nose.

  Stamping the accelerator to the floor, Temple grinned devilishly when she saw Craig’s car spurt forward.

  Flo struggled to right herself, clinging to the door handle as the two vehicles raced side by side along the outer road. Craig tried to shut Temple out at the turn, but failed.

  Whipping into her parking spot, Temple slammed on the brakes and cut the engine. Her ’87 GMC Silverado precisely straddled the line between the two spaces in top-notch line-straddling form. Weeks of practice were paying off. She rarely missed her mark these days.

  The Lincoln pulled up and squalled to a halt. Backing up, Craig made several attempts to maneuver the automobile into the tight space Temple had left. The power steering screeched as he worked to manipulate the big car into the narrow opening. The grating sound of tire rubbing against concrete shattered the silence.

  Reading Craig’s lips, Temple laughed and waited as Flo, used to their antics, slid across to the driver’s side to exit. He managed to wedge the door open, but had to maneuver sideways to squeeze out.

  “Hi, Captain Stevens. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” she said cheerfully.

  Craig reached inside the car for his jacket and flight bag and slammed the door. Inspecting the curbed tires—scuffs of powdery white ringed both the left front and rear—he shook his head in disgust.

  “Lane shark.”

  “Poor loser.”

  Flo, still wiping lipstick off her nose, walked ahead of them to the terminal. Eyeing Temple’s battered pickup, Craig fell into step with her.

  “When are you going to get a decent car?”

  “When that ole used car lot in th’ sky comes to claim her.” She drawled, grinning in the direction of her truck. “You look beat. Hard times?”

  “The worst. How about you?”

  “Terrible.”

  His crystal-blue gaze measured her with the practiced eye of a man who makes his living on quick estimates. “How was your date with...Darrell, wasn’t it?”

  “All noise—no spark. How was your week?”

  “Let’s see...Sunday night was the pits. Scott rickey-dooed me again. I went for dinner, and got stuck with his cousin from Little Rock.”

  “Oh? How about your date on Saturday night?”

  “Nina wanted to go to a movie.”

  “Yeah? Have a good time?”

  Craig’s amusement faded. “Nina has a deviated septum.”

  “Really?”

  “Have you ever sat next to someone in a movie theater with a deviated septum?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Her right nostril. She couldn’t breathe. Everyone within three rows of us knew it.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, Nina was a breeze compared to Geneva. She was Jeff’s choice for me for Monday night. You don’t want to hear about her.”

  Temple laughed as they entered the airport lobby together. The commuter terminal was bustling this morning. Sparrow counters were country blue with the large maroon Sparrow Airlines logo prominently displayed on the back wall of each section.

  Smiling hello to Ginny, who was wiping down her lunch counter, they parted—Craig to check in, Temple to grab a quick cup of coffee. Ginny had been on a week’s vacation so they were seriously behind on gossip.

  The vivacious redhead glanced up as Temple dropped her flight bag on the floor and slid onto a stool at the counter. “How’d it go Friday night?” It was Ginny’s party where she’d met Darrell.

  “Ginny, does Darrell have a hearing problem?”

  Ginny frowned. “Oh. You mean about him talking too loud?”

  Temple nodded. “Yeah, about that.”

  “I don’t think so... I know his family. The whole bunch talk loud for some reason.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  “No go?”

  “My ears rang all night!”

  “Let’s see—” Ginny checked an imaginary list “—that must be prospect number three this month?”

  Temple studied her sunburned nose in the mirror hanging behind the counter. She still looked like Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.

  Ginny leaned on the counter, her brown eyes quizzical. “I thought Darrell might make the cut. So he talks a little loud. It could be worse.”

  Temple’s eyes met her friend’s. “Yeah? Like how much worse?”

  Ginny’s eyebrows lifted into a look of innocence. “He could be twins?”

  Sighing, Temple reached for the sugar. “Maybe I should give up on finding Mr. Spectacular and just buy a cat.”

  “Persians are good,” Ginny agreed sagely. “Independent. Feed them once a day, empty their box every other day or so. They purr nice, lick your hand once in a while. Shed very little if you keep them brushed. When you get tired of looking at them, you can lock them in the laundry room. They don’t lose their shoes, keys or billfold and they don’t snore.”

  Even if she locked Darrell in the laundry room, she’d still hear him.

  The whole town would hear him.

  Again, Temple studied her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she had time to do something about her nose as she watched the traffic of passengers in various states of haste passing behind her.

  Couples were parting with hugs, kisses and tearful smiles. For a moment, she felt a pang of envy which she quickly pushed aside.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Gin. You and Mike have gone together for what? Two years?”

  Temple couldn’t find a man who held her interest for more than two days. Not even for Grams. Lately she could hardly make it through four hours with one.

  “Are you two thinking of marriage?”

  Ginny shrugged and poured ketchup into plastic bottles. “I don’t know. There are still some things to work out,” she said. “Mike’s not crazy about children and I want a houseful.”

  “He’ll come around.”

  “I’m not counting on it. He had my Chia Pet spayed for my birthday.”

 
; Grinning, Temple glanced at her watch, took a last sip of coffee and slid off the stool. “Running late. See you later.”

  “Hey,” Ginny called. “Your birthday’s coming up. Shall I start looking for a cat?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Temple said, heading toward the exit. The idea was sounding better to her all the time.

  Scotty was in the copilot seat, clipboard in hand, going down the preflight list when Temple stepped inside the door of the small cockpit.

  “Coffee, gentlemen?”

  “Love of my life,” Scotty said, taking one cup.

  This morning’s flight was aboard a Saab 340 aircraft with a crew of three: pilot, first officer and flight attendant. The aircraft, with one-by-two seating, represented a whole new generation of planes built especially for shorter-distance flying. The cockpit was equipped with state-of-the-art avionics technology. It was one of Temple’s favorite planes.

  Squeezing around her, Craig took his seat at the controls. The rush of heat at the unexpected contact took Temple by surprise. It was all-encompassing, like being bathed in tropical sunlight. Her cheeks flamed and she stared at him, trying to understand what had happened.

  Craig took the cup of coffee from her. “Something wrong?”

  “No, uh...everything’s fine, thanks.” What was that about? Shivers for Craig Stevens? Since when? Just because he was wearing Old Spice after-shave, her absolute favorite.

  Scotty sipped his coffee gratefully. “Didn’t have time for any at home this morning. Steph was up all night with the baby.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope?” Temple leaned against the door frame, her equilibrium regained.

  “Teething.” Laying aside the clipboard, Scotty took another sip of his coffee. “Funny how quick you forget things,” he said. “Pete and Cari are five and six now. Steph and I had forgotten the number of times we had to get up at night to massage sore gums and try to get aspirin down a baby. But, alas, I see I bore you.” He grinned.

  Craig settled his sunglasses on his nose and adjusted them. Temple noticed the way his hair lay smoothly against the nape of his neck, the attractive way the crisp, navy and light blue uniform fit him like a glove, defining his broad shoulders and muscled thighs—

  Geez, Burney, what is the matter with you? Craig’s your best friend? You’re ogling him like a potential, clandestine lover! Ooohh, now there’s a thought.

  Shaking the fantasy aside, she made herself concentrate on what Scotty was saying.

  “You two need to find somebody and settle down.” He handed his cup back to Temple. “Stop all this running around with strangers, going home alone, waking up to Pop-Tarts in the toaster and instant coffee.”

  “You sound like Grams,” she said.

  “I like Pop-Tarts,” Craig grunted, frowning at his clipboard.

  “Eleven years tomorrow I asked Steph to marry me, and miracle of miracles she said yes. We’re getting a sitter and going out to dinner Friday night.”

  “Wow,” Temple teased, underwhelmed by the plans.

  “Hey, don’t knock it. It may not be laser lights and rockets, but it’s nice. Comfortable. The kind of familiarity that makes it—” He stopped midsentence, looking a little embarrassed at his pleasure in the relationship he shared with his wife. “Well, we’ll have a quiet, candlelight dinner with wine, then home—to bed. Early.” He winked at Craig. “It’s not bad. Trust me.”

  Smothering a sigh of frustration, Temple retrieved Craig’s coffee cup. “I envy you, Scotty. Find me a man just like Steph, and I’ll marry him on the spot.”

  “Just like Steph?”

  “Well.” She grinned. “With a few significant differences.”

  Stowing his clipboard, Craig began final preparations. “Can’t you two think of anything but marriage?”

  “Giving you the creepy-crawlies?” Scotty laughed.

  “Not me,” Temple said easily, aware Craig was as shy of matrimony as she had once been. “I wish I could find Mr. Marvelous.”

  “You’re looking at him, sweetheart.” Winking, Craig smiled at her and her pulse jumped erratically at the familiar gesture. It wasn’t unusual for him to wink at her, but this morning it seemed somehow different.

  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” Craig mused aloud, studying a chart.

  “You’d think I was looking under rocks, judging by the candidates I’ve been coming up with,” she said dryly. “Just tell me where to look, and I’ll gladly check it out.”

  “If I knew, I’d be looking there myself.” Putting away the chart, he smiled. “All okay. Ready to get these people to their destinations?”

  Temple saluted, smiling. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Later, she did what she did best. She took care of her passengers, the part of her job she never tired of. Over the years, she’d formed numerous friendships with frequent fliers, keeping in touch by Christmas cards and an occasional letter.

  “Nuts?

  “Coffee, juice or soft drink?

  “I’m sure you’ll be at your gate on time.

  “No, ma’am, it’s perfectly safe to use the lavatory when the plane is banking.

  “No, ma’am, really. You won’t fall out.

  “Magazine?

  “Another aircraft? Yes, sir, I’m sure the captain is aware of its presence. Yes, I’ll bring it to his attention—just in case.

  “Just a noise, ma’am. No, I don’t think anything’s wrong with the engine. I can’t identify the source, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  The usual questions, usual answers, but important to the passengers.

  Ten hours and seven touchdowns later, they landed back in Dallas. With the last passenger disembarked, the galley secured, magazines returned to their places, Temple picked up her shoulder bag and stuck her head into the pilots’ compartment.

  “Need anything?”

  “Nope, just about ready to go,” Scotty said, reading off the last two items of the post-flight check.

  Five minutes later, the three of them were striding toward the terminal.

  “What’s on for tonight, Scotty?” Craig asked.

  “Quiet night at home.”

  “How about you, Burney? Got a hot date?”

  There it was again. A ting...a delicious little wave when he spoke to her.

  “Not even a lukewarm one.”

  “No date? Something wrong?”

  “No, just tired.”

  “Too many late nights,” he teased.

  “Sure, just like yours.”

  “Anyone game for breakfast in the morning before our flight?” Craig asked.

  “Not me,” Scotty said. “On these hours, I can’t eat before noon.”

  “Temple?”

  “Not me. That would mean getting up an hour earlier. Can’t do it.”

  Tempting, but keep your distance, Burney. Your libido is acting weird around him lately.

  “Lazy?”

  “Pathetically so.”

  Touching his fingertip to the bill of his hat, Craig strode down the concourse, leaving Temple and Scotty behind.

  Temple felt a niggling of regret as she watched him go. She would have liked nothing better than to have breakfast with him, but until she figured out what was going on with her, she couldn’t chance it. Making a fool of herself with Craig was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Hey,” Scotty said. “Why don’t you come over for dinner next week? Stephanie mentioned the other day that it’s been a long time since you two have seen each other.”

  Temple hesitated, knowing Scotty’s penchant for fixing her up.

  “Hey, do me a favor. Let me screw up my own life. I’m good at it.”

  “Oh! I’m hurt.” Scotty’s shoulders slumped and there was a basset hound look on his face. “I thought you liked my friends.”

  “No, I like you and Steph as friends. I haven’t yet met one of your fix-ups that I could stand.”

  “Honest, Steph wants you to come to dinner,” he insiste
d. “How about it?”

  “Are you sure Steph wants company for dinner in the middle of the week? How about I drop by for dessert?”

  “No, she’ll want you to come for dinner. How about it, kiddo?”

  Why fight it, Temple? You’re actively seeking Don Juan, remember? Work at this!

  “All right,” she said finally. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen Steph and the kids. Let me know what time and what I can bring.”

  “Will do.”

  Temple watched Scotty stride toward a bank of telephones to let his wife know he’d landed safely. Steph would be waiting for the call. And who was waiting for her call? Nobody. Would there ever be someone? Was she ready for that? Yes. With the right guy.

  Her gaze drifted back over the concourse, hoping to catch a glimpse of Craig, but he was already gone. What was this empty feeling?

  Shrugging mentally, she waved at Ginny and headed for the parking lot.

  CRAIG HAD JUST WALKED into his apartment when the phone rang. Tired from the long day, he picked up the receiver, frowning when he heard Jeff Sharp’s voice on the other end.

  “Hi, Jeff, what’s up?”

  He listened, wincing inwardly.

  “Boy, I’d like to help you out, but—

  “Yeah, she sounds nice, but I—

  “What about Sam?

  “Can’t Suzy set her up with one of her friends?

  “No, I had a busy weekend. I think I’ll stay home and heat a TV dinner, relax—

  “Sure, it can keep, but—”

  He drew a deep breath. First Scotty, and now Jeff. He was going to have to put his foot down.

  “Well, if she’s already bought the tickets. What time?

  “Yes, it’d be a shame to let the tickets go to waste. Are you and Lynda going?

  “Come on, Jeff. You want me to go, but you’re not going?

  “Okay, tell Gina I’ll pick her up around—” he glanced at his watch “—seven-thirty.”

  Dropping the phone into its cradle, he shrugged out of his jacket.

  Damn, he wished his friends would give it a rest! How many times did he have to tell them he’d find his own women.

  An ice show?

  THE NIGHT STARTED OFF bad. Then it got worse.

  Craig’s heart wasn’t in the impromptu date.