Rusty Lovers

by Lilah Nichols

  “The fact is I had seen it all coming for years and ignored it. We both made little gestures to try and get the romance back, but she wasn’t interested. It was so obvious. After Benny went off to college she turned the guest room into her own private sanctuary. I don’t know what Ben thought of that, given he was rarely home, and I was finally a full professor at the community college. I thought life was good.”

  She couldn’t help smiling when he mentioned being an academic, giving herself a mental pat on the back for that one. Maybe he really did teach Shakespeare.

  “But seriously, never mind what Benny thought,” Eliza interjected. “What did you think? Didn’t you have something to say about it?”

  Frank closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the night he had tried to discuss it. The shouting on the stairs that ended with both of them slamming doors in separate rooms. Abby stating that since Benny was at school they could end with the pretense.

  “It wasn’t an easy thing for us to talk about,” Frank admitted. “She wanted her own space. I just didn’t know she was completely moving out of our room.”

  Eliza suspected there was more to the story, but she let it go and focused on him again. Everything about him from his intelligent dark eyes to his easy-going posture, not to mention his attire, confirmed his collegiate background. Heck, she’d even categorized him as the professor within the first few minutes.

  His willingness to stumble over tough topics was so endearing she found herself opening up to him in response. Things she normally didn't tell anyone, even after she got to know them. The heartbreak of losing a wonderful husband. He'd gone to off to a charity golf tournament and never made it home. A drunk driver had crossed the yellow lines to hit his truck head-on. And how her children were now like mother hens; everything had gotten topsy-turvey, with them being the ones to suddenly look out for her. Like she was somehow fragile.

  The rain started up again as they lingered over their coffee. They watched together as the crowd left the front doors of the Marriott and headed towards the parking garage. Most of them were alone, holding their coats around them as they leaped over puddles. Eliza realized then that their coffee cups were empty and she was going to have to let him go home.

  “I am so happy we did this, Frank. Got out of there where we could really talk.” She waited, letting the silence stretch. Hoping he would ask for her number or for another date.

  He nodded and turned to drop his napkin and paper cup into the trash. He then took hers, repeating the process. It occurred to her he might be so out of practice that he wouldn't. She curled her fingers around his hand where it lay on the table. “I would dearly like to see you again.”

  He relaxed and smiled, his hand turning under hers. “I would too.” There was something about this woman, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled and set him at ease that made him want to walk on a beach holding her hand.

  Eliza pulled her purse up into her lap, and fished in the front pocket, not wanting to take her other hand out of his grip. Her card was wedged down at the bottom of the bag, of course, but after a moment she retrieved it and held up the small plain card.

  She turned it around for him to see. “Elizabeth Hamilton” printed in the center, and then her phone number in the bottom right corner. Nothing else. She'd had them made for just this occasion. She knew they could have pulled out their cell phones and added each other to contacts, but somehow this seemed more intimate.

  She tucked the card into the breast pocket of his coat and stood. “Give me a call this week, Frank. We really should get together again.”

  Chapter 2

  Frank felt a little thrill of excitement as he dialed Eliza’s number just after nine the next morning. He still adhered to the old social etiquette that dictated calls prior to nine am were rude, so he double checked his emails and text messages, waiting for the time to pass. He still felt a little awkward, calling a woman to ask her out, but he decided it was almost the same as asking the ladies in his department to join him for lunch. Almost.

  Eliza happened to be in the car. As soon as her phone started to ring at 9:01 the next morning Eliza realized she should have anticipated he would. She saw his name flash across the screen on her cell as she pulled into the parking lot at work. She was only the tiniest bit late, and as she reached for it the phone slid off the console as she turned and skittered across the floorboards on the passenger side.

  "Dammit!" she breathed as she slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt and fumbling with the cord. Checking to be sure she was out of traffic, she swiped in her code and tried not to sound breathless.

  “Hello?” So much for not sounding out of breath. Her voice sounded thin and wispy. A horn blared behind her, followed by a screech of tires as an angry car swerved around her and headed down the aisle. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello! Frank, nice to hear from you again."

  “I hope I'm not calling too early.” She almost laughed at that comment. She'd been up since 6:00. Up and thinking about when she might hear that velvety voice again. Excited by the possibilities.

  “No, no, sorry. You just caught me on my way into the office.” She hesitated, and then dove in. “I had a really nice time last night. Usually, those events are such a drag. Watching the clock, and all.”

  “Oh, you're not in the office yet?” She could almost picture him checking his watch. “I can call back in an hour?”

  She eased the car into the first open parking spot she saw and shut off the engine. “No worries, Frank. One of the perks of being the boss is that no one mentions it to me when I am late.” She had started High End Design in her basement years before, making party invitations and birth announcements for her friends. Growing steadily over the years, it had been enough to support her and her lone assistant over the years.

  There was a long silence on the phone. “I was hoping we could get together again later this week. Are you free for dinner on Friday?”

  She flipped her calendar open, happy she had never done as her kids pestered her to do and loaded everything up digitally, because if she'd had to start swiping the phone while she had him on the line, she'd end up looking like an idiot.

  “Awww shoot, I have a family get together thing Friday evening.” It was one of those extended family things where no one would miss her if she didn't appear, but everyone would want to know the details of if she skipped it for a date. Nope, no way to cancel that.

  “Well, is there another day? Saturday?”

  Eliza scanned the pages and her heart sank. She hadn't ever thought of herself as a busy woman until she wanted to be free and off everyone's radar. She frowned. It was either going to be Sunday or Monday, and she didn't want to wait that long. “I could meet you before my family dinner thing on Friday, say late afternoon? We could be adventurous and do something besides dinner. Cocktails? Something in the open air?”

  He laughed. “Meeting for cocktails isn't all that unconventional, Eliza.”

  She was laughing too. “I know, I know, but I was thinking, if the weather's supposed to be nice this weekend, maybe we could meet in the park, say around 3:30 or so, and have a picnic. I'll bring cheese and crackers, and I am sure you will know just the right wine to bring for Camenbert and Triskets.”

  “A picnic. That does sound adventurous. And I do have a nice wine in mind. Shall I pick you up? Or meet somewhere?” He sounded hopeful, relieved a little, and happy.

  “I have a lunch meeting with a client, but it shouldn't run late. Let's meet at Washington Square, near the memorial. And if it looks like rain, I'll text you. I'll probably text you anyway, just to confirm.” She could have sat and chatted all morning, but even the stragglers had made it into the building by now. “I better run. Can't wait for Friday.”

  She hung up the phone and hurried across the parking lot, feeling just the slightest bit giddy.

  * * * *

  It was only later, when she had finished with her emails and calls that she checked the weathe
r and started really formulating a plan, guessing what kind of wine he might bring and looking for recipes on the internet. Eliza knew she didn't have a single gene in common with Martha Stewart, so she started a folder for ideas. She could always just delegate to Shelly, her assistant, and not mention exactly what it was for, but for some reason she wanted to be able to say she'd done it all herself. With the help of Mr. Google, of course.

  She did more than just Google recipes, in the end. She typed his name into people search and searched through mentions of him on the college website. She checked out his “Rate My Professor” rating, and even found a video clip of him introducing a keynote speaker at a collegiate award ceremony. She made sure her office door was closed when she played it. And then she played it again, smiling to hear that velvety voice. She heard a little knock on her door and quickly added the clip to favorites before closing down her browser.

  “Focus!” she chided herself as Shelly, her assistant leaned in and reminded her of three clients that needed attention, as well as a display for a bridal show to finalize. High End Design really could have remained in her basement, if she hadn’t downsized her home and ended up with a basement full of boxes. But Eliza had realized early on that mothers and daughters were looking for experiences when they planned a wedding, such as going to cake tastings and trying out champagnes.

  That was why they liked to come to her showroom, to feel the samples, the laser cutouts of lace and butterflies, and the raised lettering. Sure, she had brides who wanted to point and order, not even address or stamp the envelopes themselves, but plenty wanted a cozy afternoon, complete with tea. Maybe getting her calendar cleared for Friday would keep her mind off Frank, or at least keep her from reaching for the phone to text him until Thursday.

  When Friday morning finally came, Eliza felt a tingle in her stomach she hadn't felt in ages. She dressed with care, selecting a sleek pair of slacks in a dark chestnut color and a creamy cowl-neck sweater. Not exactly in the height of fashion, but the colors looked well against her skin and brought out the warm colors in her eyes. It would serve for work and her lunch meeting with the O’Brien-Smith wedding party as well as her date with Frank later on. That particular wedding wasn’t until late fall, however, the young bride was bringing her mother as well as her Maid of Honor to color coordinate and design the perfect invitation.

  She chuckled to herself. Thinking about Frank and just saying the word 'date' seemed so odd. Her life had been busy and full since Jim died, there was always something needing her attention: her house, her kids, her work. But something had definitely been missing, too. That little spark of excitement that came from having a romantic interest. She could feel a change in herself already, and was surprised everyone was missing it, the spring in her step, the smile on her face. There had been a sunny smile on Shelly’s face this morning, so maybe her assistant was aware of a change, and just not mentioning it.

  Eliza knew she was getting ahead of herself, but for the first time in months, no years, she felt young again. Almost like a teenager again. Like some little part of her heart that had lost hope was waking up.

  So there she was, in her curve-hugging, slightly stretch pants, perched on the edge of a park bench near the memorial, clutching a small basket covered in a red and white checkered napkin. Her hair was twisted up behind her head, and as always it had decided to go from tidy to disheveled as soon as she stepped into the afternoon sunshine. At least it had held together for her consultation.

  The enthusiastic bride, Natasha O’Brien come in with a notepad full of ideas for making her invitation unique, and Eliza had spent the better part of an hour explaining why a pressed flower enclosed in rice paper would be a disastrous idea. She hadn’t described it as disastrous, or impossible, even if someone had thought to press seventy-five flowers months ago. She merely mentioned the possibility of loose seeds and flower petals staining the card stock, and steered the group towards some colorful ribbons interwoven into cutouts. As the afternoon dragged on, Eliza glanced at the clock and wrapped up the appointment.

  She would still have plenty of time to get to the park, her picnic basket was ready. She had packed a couple of paper cups and plates, as well as some plastic silverware. After all her research, she hadn't been able to decide on one hors d'oeuvre, going instead with a little variety. Pate on bagel chips, and Boursin cheese on tiny sourdough slices.

  Eliza had texted Frank just before nine Friday morning to confirm, and she had even gotten to the office extra early. Could it be she suddenly didn't want to look like a slacker? In the end, it didn't matter, since it was just a text, and neither of them was particularly skilled with the phone keyboards. She felt a moment’s regret at hearing his voice, before stowing her phone in her purse and admitting to herself she'd been up early, eager to get the day started.

  She had tapped the screen and then double checked her spelling. “Weather looks lovely for this afternoon. Looking forward to seeing you.”

  His response followed a minute later, short and concise, “Perfect day for a picnic. Me too.”

  Bright sunshine made the day surprisingly warm, and as a result most visitors to the park didn’t linger. They hurried down the walkways, passing Eliza without a glance. She wandered away from the statue into the shade of a tall oak with a convenient bench beneath it.

  She pulled at her neckline. Wearing a cowl neck sweater suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea, but at least bench she chose was hidden under a tree, with dappled sunlight offering the perfect amount of shade. She had made sure to arrive in the park early, wanting to pick an out of the way spot.

  Eliza held the basket in her lap, resisting the urge to look at her phone and check the time. She regretted that the entire world seemed to have given up on watches due to the proliferation of cell phones.

  When she finally spotted him strolling down the path she relaxed and took in the easy way he moved. He was dressed almost exactly the way she expected, in a white button-down shirt, creased black trousers, and a sage green sweater vest.

  She ducked her head to hide her smile as he approached, wondering how a man could appear so obviously academic and sexy at the same time. He was tall and lean, his hair slightly windblown. He held a blanket draped over one arm and carried a brown paper bag by the handles.

  Eliza set her basket by her feet and rose as he drew closer and stopped in front of her. She took a half step towards him, clasping his shoulders and leaning in. Almost a hug, but not quite. And not quite a kiss on the cheek either. Her cheek brushed against his, and she caught a whiff of his unique scent, masculine and somewhat spicy. It was inviting and made her want to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, but she resisted. She drew back and smiled, "Hello."

  He smiled back, and it only took a moment for the conversation to flow again. They unfolded the blanket together and set it on top of a low wall. Eliza opened her Tupperware serving dish while he poured them each a glass of white wine.

  "I had the feeling you were a white wine girl,” he explained and he handed the plastic cup to her. “I guessed you might like it light and fruity, maybe even with bubbles."

  * * * *

  The day was out of a dream for Frank. He was glad for the familiar task of pouring the wine, otherwise his hands might have been trembling. Thank God for the habitual routine of filling a glass. Everything about this day was astounding, starting with the way he'd nonchalantly strolled into the park, as if meeting a lovely woman there was something he did every day. He'd held onto the handles of the fancy bag from the wine and spirits shop like a lifeline as he crossed the park. She'd stood, wrapped a warm arm around him and stretched up to kiss his cheek. Well, not so much a kiss as laying her cheek against his and whispering a “mwah!” in his ear.

  She was everything he remembered. Classy and vibrant, pulling him in like one of those fish with the bio-luminescent dangly things to lure in their prey. He stood patiently while she arranged a place for them, admiring her curvy backside as she bent to straig
hten the blanket. She seemed so at ease, settling down on the wall and asking about his week. The breeze kept her hair in a constant state of disarray, no matter how many times she tucked stray strands behind her ears.

  “It's been a long week,” he admitted. “I kept waiting for today.”

  A smile broke over her face, and she took a sip of her wine before answering. “Me too. I'm sorry it had to be like this, "she shrugged and gestured to the cars going by and the pedestrians crossing on the walkways. "Not exactly private, or a good place for a first date, but we took a chance and the weather cooperated!"

  He plucked another cracker from her serving tray. It was Brie on top of a golden cracker, and topped with some kind of sweet jelly or chutney. Hell, he didn't know what it was, but it paired perfectly with the Chardonnay.

  “Did you tell your kid about this rendez vous?" Her tone was light, but he had the feeling the question was very serious. She was watching him intently.

  “Well, I told him I'd found someone interesting at the dating event, and that we were getting together soon, but honestly, I am so out of touch with dating these days, I wasn't even sure this get together would be considered a date.”

  Her expression faltered. “It is definitely a date,” she assured him, and then she laughed. “Not exactly the best date, but when you're starting over you can make a date out of anything you want. And you're right. I'm not ready to share with my kids that I might be on to something.”

  He nodded and set his cup down on the edge of the wall. He lay back on his elbows and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how he felt about it all. Just being near Eliza gave him butterflies in his stomach, made him excited and slightly aroused. He wanted to lean in closer, but didn't dare. Besides, he still felt married, and he was, technically, still married, even if the lawyers were busy exchanging papers.

  Eliza drew him in and made him want more, although he wasn’t sure exactly what that was yet. More of that allure, that charm.