by Nella Tyler
“You’ve got to tell me; you always tell me everything.” On her return to her desk, she whispered, “I can tell you are preoccupied. If for nothing other than your own good mental health, you should tell your best friend.”
Mackenzie smiled patiently, but subtly shook her head no. This was something she wanted to think about privately, instead of in public. Anything said to Lucy became part of an open forum.
The office, although a large room, was populated by only eight people. As they were working on financial issues, secrecy between employees was discouraged. Each person had to be accountable to another to avoid anyone taking advantage of the privileged information they were handling.
Therefore, Lucy’s continued tracks to whisper over Mackenzie’s shoulder were noted by the boss and at one point, he spoke up. “Lucy? May I see you in the coffee room, please?”
Mackenzie kept her eyes trained on her computer screen, forcing herself not to look up. She knew Lucy would be upset; she had a very sensitive personality. She felt the air whoosh by as Lucy quickly walked past Mackenzie’s desk, and then came the sound of the coffee room door closing. While their conversation was unintelligible, it didn’t last long and evidently, the reproach was brief and to the point.
The door soon opened again and Lucy returned to her desk, although this time walking far more slowly. She plopped, rather than slid, into her chair as a resigned sigh echoed throughout the room.
Mackenzie smiled inwardly. It seemed that for once, Lucy would be kept off the track of the scent.
Mackenzie prepared to leave a couple of minutes before five o’clock. She didn’t want to hang around in the hallway and become Lucy’s target. Despite her preparation, Lucy was a master and she was at Mackenzie’s elbow as they walked out the door.
“Look, you even got me into trouble.”
Mackenzie frowned. “You’re blaming that on me?”
“If you told me what I wanted to know, I wouldn’t have to behave like a schoolchild trying to find out.” Mackenzie realized that Lucy literally thought herself responsible for all the news there was to know within the office, and obviously within Mackenzie’s world.
“Lucy, you know I love you. I will tell you this much. This last weekend, I took a little bit of some advice you gave me some time ago. Without going into details, I will tell you that it actually opened my eyes, that there was some merit to it, but that I prefer to think about it privately. As much as I value you, this is the kind of thing I have to decide for myself.”
“What on earth?” Lucy’s inquiry thought trailed off as her mind whirled with possibilities.
Mackenzie looked her directly in the eye and calmly, but firmly said, “Let it go.”
Her words brought Lucy upright. Her posture was that of someone who and who had been offended. Mackenzie was sorry if her friend’s curiosity was not be appeased, but Lucy was a grown woman and would have to deal with it.
Mackenzie got into her car and headed straight to the mall. She hadn’t been there for years, so she wasn’t entirely sure what stores were open there.
Bassford Mall had been a landmark in town since the late ’70s. Housing over a hundred stores, it offered a broad selection of shopping opportunities, despite the rather small population of town. Many of the shoppers came from adjoining cities and their combined business kept the mall vital and healthy.
She looked at the marquees that listed the mall occupants. She headed for the department store anchoring the mall at one end.
Clorie’s was a regional chain of upscale department stores that specialized in clothing, bedding, appliances, shoes, and electronics. On the second floor, it housed a beauty shop and a small tea room. The beauty shop was Mackenzie’s first destination.
“Do you take walk-ins?” she asked the girl behind the reception counter.
“Sure do,” the young blonde replied. “In fact, weekday afternoons are always slow. We can have someone with you in about ten minutes.”
“That’s fine.” Mackenzie was relieved that this was going smoothly. She took these things as signs that she was doing the right thing.
“Name?” the girl asked.
“Mackenzie Harper.”
“Thank you, Mackenzie. Why not have a seat over there and look through our magazines, and we’ll be with you in a jiffy?”
Mackenzie smiled at the girl’s use of the word “jiffy.” She hadn’t heard that expression in years and realized that just like clothing styles, words eventually came back into fashion. She found a seat and picked up a hairstyle magazine. When her stylist came to get her, Mackenzie handed her the magazine and pointed at a picture. “There, that one. Can you do that with my hair?”
The stylist looked at Mackenzie’s length and thickness, then nodded. “Of course. Shall we add a little low lights to give it more interest and texture?”
She smiled. “Let’s get started.”
Almost two hours later, she emerged from the salon and her step was light. She loved what they done to her hair and felt ten years younger. As the stylist had worked on her, they had begun having a rather generic conversation, which due to the luxury of anonymity, quickly became personal. She told the stylist about David and being widowed for two years. She confessed that she was trying a online dating site and even about the man in the sunglasses.
“Oh, that was bad of him. Men are such asses!” was the stylist’s authoritative pronouncement. “I know… I’ve had more than my share,” she added. Somehow, Mackenzie completely believed her.
“Do you think it’s silly for a woman my age to date online?” She was beginning to see the chasm of the generation beneath her opening wider.
“Oh, no, not if you do it smart,” the stylist assured her.
“What would you consider ‘smart?’” They were cutting her hair and as much as she wanted the girl’s full attention on her locks, there was a golden opportunity to get some input from an unexpected source.
“Okay, so like I’ve done this before, right?” she began.
“Okay…”
“And, like, the first thing you do is use a phony name, so nobody looks you up when you don’t want it, right?”
“Right…”
“Then, you never ever let them at your social media account – like don’t friend them on Facebook, right?”
“Okay…”
“So, now let’s say you want to talk to them, like hear their voice. You can either use the website anonymous phone, if they have one, or get a Skype account and all they see is your profile name. Simple, right?”
“Skype–got it!”
“Now, let’s say all is good and you want to have a meet and greet. This is the tricky part. First thing, you ask for time to consider it and then you do a background check.
“Get his full name and city and start Googling him. Look for anything that might be him, particularly if you can find him listed in somebody’s obituary as a survivor. That gives you a list of people he’s related to or friends with. You can look all of them up, too. But that’s so you know if he’s really married, how many kids he has and where he’s from.
“It’s in the details – and ask him questions about things like that so you can tell if he’s a liar. If you find out he is…” She made a motion as if slashing her throat and came close to doing so with the scissors she was holding.
“Oh! Careful!” Mackenzie cautioned her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Now… so you’ve got some background on the guy. If anything looks fishy, you can buy a background check for about thirty bucks and it will give you criminal record, bankruptcies, all that sort of thing. If you have an address for him, or even just the county, you can look up his property tax information and verify whether he owns the house on his own or if there’s another name – like maybe a wife he’s not telling you about.
“Now, if he has a Facebook account, look through his pictures and the comments he’s made to his friends, or them to him. Tons of info there.”
“Whew! You do all th
is when you go on a date with a guy?” Mackenzie was amazed.
“Honey, oh yeah,” the stylist paused and looked her in the eye via the mirror before them. “You wanna know this stuff now, not later when he’s scammed you or when you’ve fallen for him and it’s gonna hurt real bad.”
Her mouth was open as if Mackenzie was unbelievably naïve, which she had to admit, to a certain extent, she was. “If you really want to be blunt, tell the guy on the phone that you’re going to check him out before you go out with him. If he says, ‘no way,’ then you won’t even have to waste your time. If he’s fine with it, that tells you a whole lot right there.”
“That’s a good point. But I have to admit, even I would be a bit nervous about someone checking me out. It feels sort of like privacy invasion.”
“Maybe so, but we all got somethin’ in our past we don’t want spread around. But, it’s better to know where those holes are now. Honey, you think an employer isn’t going to do these checks? And, he’s only giving you money. You’re talkin’ about checking somebody out who might end up in your freakin’ bed!”
Mackenzie snapped upright at that statement and felt the burn of acid in her throat as the reality of that sank in. “You know, you’re right.”
The stylist, however, wasn’t quite done dispensing advice. “Next thing, if you got that far, then it comes down to the time you’re gonna meet him. Make sure someone knows the details – everything you got on him. Meet him in a public place, like a coffee shop or restaurant and make sure you check in with your guard friend like every hour at least. Just a quick text.
“If you’re gonna go dutch treat on the meal, bring cash and leave your credit cards behind. Don’t be showing pictures of family or your house or anything else that some scumbag could use to track you down.
“Drive there from another direction and when you leave, make sure you’re not being followed. If he does, just drive on to the police station and pull in – that’ll shake him.”
“So, how would you handle it if you didn’t like the guy once you met him?” This was Mackenzie’s great dilemma.
“Just say, ‘Hey, you’re everything you said you were and I have enjoyed talkin’ to you, but I just think we’re probably not a match.’ That way you’re not sayin’ there’s anything wrong with him, but you’re just sayin’ there’s something that you don’t think will work. Like maybe he smokes and you have asthma, or he has cats or you didn’t know his arms were plastered with tattoos and you can’t see bringin’ him home to meet your mama kind of thing.”
“Boy, I can tell you’ve been doing this yourself. You really have this down,” she commented appreciatively.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve been in your shoes… Well, not widowed, but looking for a guy. I figure you go hunting in a bar, you bring home a drunk. You hunt at church and everyone knows your business and you might end up havin’ to find a new church. Online, you can find good people. After all, you’re good people so there have to be others. It’s just a matter of findin’ them and bein’ careful, that’s all.”
“Well, I don’t know which to thank you more for – the hairstyle or the advice.” Mackenzie was thoroughly impressed and thankful.
“No problem. You come back and let me know how things go, you hear?” The stylist spun her around and Mackenzie saw a younger, brighter version of herself in the mirror. It felt wonderful, even if she decided to give up the idea of dating for a while.
Chapter 6
Mackenzie spent the rest of the afternoon in the dressing room at Clorie’s. She had become discouraged as she wandered up and down the aisles, looking for the right “date” dress. Styles had changed dramatically over the years and stepping out of her comfort zone wasn’t going to be as easy as she had predicted.
“May I help you?” came a voice behind her, and Mackenzie turned to see a young sales girl who was stylishly dressed and perfectly coiffed.
“Well, I don’t know. I might not even be in the right store. All this might be for younger gals than myself.”
“Did you have something special in mind? My name is Ashley.”
“Ashley, I’m going to be really frank with you and say that I’ve rejoined the dating world again after losing my husband and my wardrobe is hardly up to dating protocol, if you get what I mean.” Her face flushed.
“I understand perfectly. You’re not alone. We get lots of ladies in the store with the same goals.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Most of them are newly divorced, but it amounts to the same thing. You want to look your best and yet not look like you’re trying too hard, right?”
Mackenzie breathed a sigh of relief. “Exactly! You really do understand.”
Ashley smiled. “Why not pop into that dressing room over there, number three, and I’ll hand some things over the door to you. I think I can guess your size, so let’s get started.”
“Perfect!” She headed to room three and began peeling off her blouse and slacks. She felt suddenly very vulnerable and was about to change her mind when the first two dresses were flung over the door.
“Give these a shot and pop out so I can see how they fit. Our clothes tend to run a bit large, so ignore the numbers.”
The first dress was casual looking on the hanger, but flowed nicely over her hips, accenting her best features. It was a body-skimming jersey with three-quarter length sleeves and a V-neck. It came down to just about her knees and was a soft gray color. Ashley’s voice came over the door. “Which one did you try first?”
“The gray.”
“Oh, good, that’s my first choice. Now that’s the kind of dress that you could wear over leather leggings for a more casual look or dress up with a string of pearls and a silver bangle bracelet if you were going somewhere a little fancier. It also can accommodate a few pounds one way or the other. Lots of our ladies tend to diet or sometimes put on a few pounds during these times.”
Mackenzie hadn’t considered that, but it was worth keeping in mind. She stepped out of the dressing room and asked, “Does the color drain me?”
“Hmmm… All by itself, I’d say yes. But if we added a colorful scarf or necklace that would make it pop, you’d look great. Why don’t you try on the other one for a comparison?”
Mackenzie nodded and went back in, sliding the dress over her head and pulling the second one off the hanger. This one was more colorful, bohemian in style with deep pockets and three-quarter sleeves. It, too, had a V-neck and unlike the gray dress, would be a complemented by a jacket or sweater in a solid color to change up the look from daytime to nighttime. Mackenzie could picture it with some black heels she’d seen in another store window. She stepped out into the dressing room lounge and Ashley looked at her critically.
“Nope. That’s not you. Too busy. You want him looking at your beautiful eyes and face, not the fabric on your dress. It overpowers you. Hang on. I’ll be right back,” she urged and motioned Mackenzie to go back into the dressing room and slide the dress off.
The third dress was a black sheath dress with a keyhole neckline and cap sleeves. It had subtle pleats just below the waistline, accenting her curves and the length was perfect – just above her knees.
“Oh, I like this one,” she breathed and heard a satisfied chuckle from Ashley.
“I thought you might. The simple black dress. Gets them every time. You’ve got the curves; you may as well show them off. Let the guy know that you’re not hiding anything.”
“I’ll take it,” she agreed spontaneously and slid the dress off. “I’ll meet you at the counter and if you have stockings and maybe a sexy slip, I’d like those, too.”
“Your wish is my command,” Ashley said smartly and laughed as she headed for the front of the store.
Mackenzie met her there shortly and chose more accessories in addition to those Ashley had lying out for her. She left the store with a handled, monogrammed bag and headed for the shoe store where she bought the black heels with slender straps she’d spotted earlier.
All in all, her afternoon of self-pampering was productive and highly enjoyable. She grabbed some Chinese take-out on the way home and turned on the radio to sing along. She suddenly realized she hadn’t listened to the radio since David had died. It was as if she had popped open her cocoon to step out into the world again. It felt absolutely wonderful!
Mackenzie flipped on her computer as soon as she got home. As it was booting up, she hung her dress in the closet, making extra room for it up front where she could see it. The box of shoes and other items were put away and she slipped into her comfy yoga pants and tunic.
A quick plate and fork later, she was eating and eagerly waiting to see what might be in her mailbox. Sure enough, there were several missives. She scanned the names and found who she was looking for.
It was from Bill; Noliarshere.
Dear Mackenzie,
Hopefully, I’m the only one who knows your real name, so my letter might stand out from the others. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed meeting you. I was a little surprised when you were spontaneous enough to meet me at the last minute, but I think that was part of the fun.
I know this is a serious subject, and it’s really early in the “process” but it’s probably one we need to get out of the way early on. Are you looking for marriage again or just a relationship? I thought it might be easier to ask this question in a message than face to face.
As for me, I want to be married again. I belong married. It brings out the best in me. I’m not looking for a new mother for my sons – they have their own mother. Just wanted you to know where I stood on that.
Hope you’ll consider having dinner with me this weekend. I’d like to take you somewhere nice this time. In the meantime, hope you don’t mind if I write you a few times just to begin my campaign?
Hopefully – Bill
Mackenzie was touched by his note. It was well-written, attentive, and flattering. She responded immediately.