Building a Perfect Match

by Arlene James

  “Thank you,” the girl returned vaguely. Hypatia left her to her thoughts.

  * * *

  Sighing silently, Petra dredged up the extra patience that she needed to deal with her boss these days.

  “Period materials and techniques are expensive, no doubt about it,” she said into the mouthpiece of her office phone, “but we’ll make it up on the back end, and we have a bit of room now.” Because Dexter had decided that reproductions were more serviceable than genuine antiques, the budget had gained a little weight. “Besides, I have a surprise for you,” she went on.

  “It had better be good,” Garth grumbled. He’d complained about the construction budget, but Petra knew he was more concerned about the expense being incurred in Colorado, as well as the time away from the Vail project.

  “The BCHS has agreed to include the hotel in this year’s annual Yesterday’s Christmas event,” she divulged proudly. “It’s a big deal here, Garth. All the historical buildings in town vie for the chance to participate, but only half a dozen are chosen each year. We’ll need to decorate in period style, lavishly, but people come from all over to take the tours, busloads of them. The Cracked Crock Café got national reviews when they were included.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

  “But there’s more,” she went on. “A local reporter from a Dallas TV station has agreed to do a piece on the hotel once it’s open for business. He brought up an interesting question, though. He wanted to know if we would be reopening the pool in the basement. Apparently, it was put in sometime during the 1920s, so I think the BCHS would be okay with it. I have the guys looking into it, and if the pool’s viable, we won’t have to go to the extra expense of building a new one.”

  “Well, you are just brimming with good news and bright ideas,” Garth praised. “How’s your ankle, by the way?”

  “Better,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

  “Great. I look forward to seeing you when I get back to Texas.”

  “I look forward to seeing you, too,” she returned dryly, thinking that she was going to finally put him in his place about that kiss.

  They hung up, and she glanced up to find Dale standing in her office doorway. Obviously, he’d been there for several moments and had heard her say she was looking forward to seeing Garth again. Dale did that finger-down-the-nose thing.

  “Think you can make it downstairs? I need you to take a look at the pool.”

  She pushed back her chair and started to reach for her crutch, but stopped. Her ankle had improved, and the crutch had become more trouble than it was worth. Before she could decide whether to try to walk without it, Dale sauntered over and presented his elbow.

  “Can I lend you an arm?”

  She smiled at that. “Sure. Beats that torture device known as a crutch,” she told him, hobbling along at his side. He chuckled, keeping his pace slow.

  “Well, you won’t need it much longer.”

  “My ankle is better.”

  When they reached the elevator, he pushed the button for the basement, and the elevator began to drop. Mere seconds later, they stepped out into the darkened underbelly of the building.

  “We’re going to need overhead lights,” Dale pointed out, “quite a few of them. As for the pool…” He offered his arm again.

  She leaned against him and limped forward to the edge of the enormous rectangular hole in the center of the floor. The space had been boarded over at some point in the past, but Dale’s crew had removed the covering to expose the pool. She couldn’t tell much about it until Dale reached over and clicked on a work lamp atop a tripod. Then she gasped.

  “Oh, my word! It’s beautiful!”

  “And in decent shape,” he reported. “Some of the decorative tiles will have to be replaced, and we’ll need new drains and a modern filtration system, but I really think it’s going to take a minimal amount of work to get it approved and open.”

  “That’s wonderful news!”

  “There’s more,” he told her. Turning, he waved a hand at the many doors and rooms behind them. “Were you aware that there was a spa down here?”

  “A spa?”

  Nodding, he ticked off what he’d found behind the doors of what everyone had taken for ample storage rooms. “Mud baths, his and her saunas, exercise room, massage beds. We even found a barber chair and some sort of Medusa-like curling-iron thing, so I think we can safely assume that they had a barbershop and beauty salon at some point. And these other rooms…” He turned to gesture toward the far wall. “You might want to think about turning them into shops.”

  “That’s brilliant!” she exclaimed. “But will the BCHS go for it?”

  “Maybe, if we can prove that such services were offered on-site in the past. I’ll see what they say.”

  “This could work out so well!” she enthused. “Garth’s been concerned because Buffalo Creek is so far from the downtown business centers of Dallas and Fort Worth, but a spa would give us something else unique to offer. Like his-and-her spa packages! What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Oh, come on,” she teased, whacking him playfully on the arm with her hand. “Wouldn’t you go for a couple’s weekend spa deal? Think about it. While she’s getting a facial, body wrap, hairstyling and chemical peel, you could go for a nice haircut, old-fashioned shave and a good workout followed by a sauna, swim and massage. And then a romantic dinner in our restaurant.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he said, snagging her gaze with his, “if I was part of a couple.”

  In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changed. Petra’s breath caught.

  “Are you part of a couple, Petra?” he asked softly.

  She couldn’t decide if she should answer lightly or make a firm statement of denial because she could neither read nor escape the intensity of those leaf-green eyes. She settled for a simple shake of her head.

  “No? It’s obvious that Anderton’s interest in you goes way beyond business,” Dale said. “How serious is it between the two of you?”

  Petra warred with herself, fearing that she was about to step onto a dangerous path, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

  “There’s nothing personal between Garth and me,” she managed, “nothing at all. That kiss you saw was the first and only. And not exactly a mutual idea.”

  A small, tight smile curved Dale’s lips. “That kiss did look a little…”

  “Staged,” she finished for him, surprised by how relieved she was that he’d noticed her lack of participation.

  His smile widened. “I wonder why he’d stage something like that?”

  Petra gave a little shrug that she hoped appeared appropriately nonchalant. “You can never tell what goes through Garth’s head.”

  “I somehow got the idea that he likes to weed out the competition,” Dale said, “if you know what I mean.”

  She knew what he meant, and he knew that she knew what he meant, but she tried for an unconcerned tone anyway. “I suppose.”

  “Maybe,” Dale said, stepping closer, “you need something to compare Garth’s kiss with. In the spirit of competition.”

  Stunned, Petra looked up. Oh, dear! He was going to kiss her. What should she do? But she already knew what she was going to do—and that it would change everything. For ill or good, nothing would be the same after this. Still, she couldn’t have stopped him if she’d wanted to—and she did not want to stop him.

  When he stepped closer still, she placed a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes. He slipped an arm around her waist and cupped her cheek with the other hand. Pressing his thumb gently beneath her chin, he tilted up her face. As he lowered his head, she leaned in and stretched up to meet him, her arm
s sliding up around his neck.

  The room whirled. For a moment, she thought it was her, that she must surely be falling, but then she realized that both of her feet were firmly planted on solid ground. The ache in her ankle proved it. The fact that she barely noticed the pain proved just how lost to sanity she was.

  * * *

  The instant their lips met, Dale knew that he had just done a very foolish thing. This kiss, unlike any other he had known, threatened to rob him of his good sense and set him on the path of stubborn self-rationalization. He had no business kissing this woman. Everything he knew about her proclaimed that she was not for him. Still, from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, Dale had not been able to get Petra Chatam out of his head. When they were together, she felt so right, as if the cogs and wheels that made her work somehow meshed perfectly with his, as if God had designed her for him alone. But how could that be when they were so different? Was it possible that a successful career woman from one of the area’s foremost families could be the woman God had chosen for him, the son of a blue-collar family with no pretensions? Dale knew only that he had to find out.

  With aching deliberateness, he began pulling back incrementally until he’d broken the kiss and put almost a foot of space between them. He stared down at her beautiful face. She looked as stunned as he felt, her amber eyes slightly glazed. That made him smile. So much about her made him smile.

  Clearing his throat, he backed up another step, his hands at her waist, steadying her. She blinked and blew a breath upward, while he racked his mind for something intelligent to say. The only thing that came to mind was, “Wow,” but he managed to keep the word behind his teeth. She seemed to have heard it, nonetheless, for her eyebrows leapt in tandem before settling back into place. He desperately sought the next step, but he couldn’t quite think what that ought to be. Dropping his hands, he put a bit more distance between them, and his mind began to clear.

  She was not the sort of woman he’d ever thought he’d want because he wasn’t at all sure she would put marriage and family before career, and Dale very much wanted to be married and make a family of his own. He’d just been waiting for God to bring the right lady along. How could that be Petra, though? She saw things through the spectrum of career and business, while he saw them through the prism of marriage and family.

  Looking at it logically, Garth Anderton was a better match for her. They had ambition and the hotel in common, and given her family’s emphasis on achievement, Garth’s success in business must make him very attractive, indeed. Just the idea of her and Garth together had been eating Dale alive, though! He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to try with her. He had to know if she might be the one for him and vice versa.

  Lord, help me, he prayed automatically, and then his mouth kicked into gear. “Uh, we should… That is…” Suddenly he knew what they should do. “My mom would be delighted if you’d join the family for dinner on Sunday after church.” Yes, that would do. That would do very well.

  Petra looked confused for a moment. “Are you asking me out?”

  Dale squared his shoulders. “Yes. I’m asking you to join me and my family for Sunday dinner.”

  Her brow furrowed, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Why?”

  Why? He cleared his throat. “That kiss ought to tell you why.”

  He wasn’t going to find out if they could have a future together by kissing her, though. Kisses like that would do nothing but muddle his brain, when they both needed to find out if they could fit into each other’s lives.

  For a long, awful moment, he thought she would refuse his invitation, but then she looked up again and simply nodded her head. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and his brain finally began functioning at full speed again.

  “Want to meet at church? Or should I pick you up after?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath, coughed behind her fist and swallowed. “Meet.”

  He didn’t know whether to dance a jig or brace himself for eventual disappointment, so he just stood there like a bump on a log. “Okay.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds longer, until she wobbled slightly. “Oh. Here.” He quickly stepped to her side, offering his arm.

  She smiled wanly and slid her hand around the crook of his arm. “So inconvenient,” she said softly, referring to her temporary lameness.

  “I don’t mind,” he told her.

  Mind? If he’d been a little less wise, he’d have hauled her into his arms and carried her again.

  They inched their way back to the elevator then rode in silence up to the lobby. He walked her to her office and saw her settled comfortably in her chair, her bad ankle propped up on an overturned box with a fresh ice pack applied.

  “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Thank you. And Chester is coming to drive me home.”

  He nodded, thinking that was probably a good thing. “Well,” he said, “if I don’t see you before, then I guess I’ll see you Sunday.”

  “Sunday,” she echoed.

  He tore himself away and headed straight out to his truck. When he got there, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. Am I being a complete fool? he asked his Lord. Or is it possible that she really is the one?

  He didn’t know what to think anymore, but he knew that Sunday would not come soon enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday seemed forever away to Petra. No matter how often she told herself that she was being foolish, she couldn’t help feeling excited about spending Sunday afternoon with Dale and his family. Neither could she help reliving that kiss.

  It could not have been more different from Garth’s. His kiss had stunned and irritated her; beyond that, she didn’t really remember much else. Dale’s kiss, on the other hand… She had no words to describe it, no context in which to place it, but she couldn’t forget a second of it, and that made no sense to her. Nothing about her feelings for Dale Bowen made any sense.

  Dating anyone wasn’t part of the plan. She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked or distracted, but since Dale had kissed her, she couldn’t seem to care about the danger to her career. Not yet. She thought long and hard about it, and decided that sanity would return in due course. Meanwhile, she might as well enjoy being crazy. At least that’s what she told herself when Dale popped into her office on Friday afternoon to chat about some information he’d garnered from the BCHS historian.

  “She seems to recall that the Vail was once touted as a ‘businessman’s health resort’ and suggested that we check out the old editions of the local newspapers to see if we can find mention of it.”

  “And if we do, the BCHS will okay a new spa?” Petra asked.

  “Provided the renovations and décor are period-correct.”

  “That’s great news!”

  “Want a ride to the library and an extra hand?” he asked. “They have old newspapers on microfiche.”

  Petra grabbed her purse from her desk drawer. “That’s quaint. I thought everything was computerized now.”

  “Small-town libraries have small-town budgets,” he pointed out, waiting while she got to her feet and clomped over to the door in her flats and brace.

  They drove the few blocks to the library in his truck. Like everything else in Buffalo Creek, the building held historical significance, starting with its Greek Revival façade. Petra had to take the stairs up to the intricately carved doors slowly, but Dale showed great patience, pacing her carefully in case she should fall. Inside, he took charge, speaking to the surprisingly young woman behind the information desk. Within minutes, they were seated side by side at twin viewing desks with microfiche reels loaded in the viewers.

  At Dale’s suggestion, they started in the early 1940s and worked th
eir way backward, pausing from time to time to read aloud interesting headlines and even whole stories. They laughed about sales ads for products that hadn’t existed in decades and old political cartoons. Finally, Petra came across an article dated February 10, 1938. The author reported on a new “strengthening treatment” now being offered at “our lauded and very popular local health spa beneath the fine Vail Hotel.” The article went on to claim that the spa at the Vail was known in business circles as far away as New York City and San Francisco.

  Excited by this reference, Petra began combing through newspaper editions from the previous era. Dale found references to the spa in several editions of another newspaper, the oldest going back to 1919.

  “Well, this ought to satisfy the BCHS!” Petra exclaimed as they waited for copies of the articles to be made.

  “And score some brownie points with the boss,” Dale pointed out.

  Petra kept to herself the fact that she’d already blown that opportunity. Garth had seemed seriously pleased when she’d informed him about the possibilities of the spa, but she’d felt honor bound to tell him that he could thank Dale for the discovery. She’d then listened to Garth gnash his teeth on the other end of the telephone connection before he’d growled something about needing to confer with “a real contractor” and hung up.

  “I’m less concerned with scoring points with the boss than the BCHS,” she told Dale truthfully, a little surprised that it was so.

  “Why don’t you put together a presentation,” he suggested, “and I’ll set up a meeting with the executive council.”

  “I could do that,” she mused, imagining a slide show and a list of talking points. Dexter would help with the conceptual end of a proposal.

  “Why don’t we stage this one at the hotel?” Dale asked. “We’ll show them around the place, let them see our progress and lay out our plans.”

  Petra beamed. “That’s a wonderful idea!”

  “You’re going to get that promotion yet,” he said, tapping the cleft in her chin.