She grabbed her wrap and headed down to wait for Garrett. “Please be real,” she whispered as she rode down in the elevator. As the doors opened she was greeted with his smiling face. She glanced at her watch.
“You’re not late,” he told her as he offered his arm which, of course, she took.
“I thought perhaps a stroll up the street to Hannigans?”
“Good choice.” She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm.
“What’s that for?”
She shrugged. Just checking to make sure you’re real.” They both laughed as they stepped out into the late morning air. “I’d half expected that I’d dreamed you up and you’d be a no-show this morning.”
“I think I’m the one with the dream.”
“Careful now. You know what they say about flattery, my dear…”
They continued with the playful flirtations as they walked; each content with the reality that held them.
“So how was country brunch with Mum?” she asked when they were seated and the waiter had moved on so they might peruse their menus.
”Mum…and the rest of the family. It was delicious. Can’t beat homemade country cooking. You’ll have to join me sometime.”
Claire nearly choked on her response. “That’s a bit presumptuous for two people who have just met, don’t you think?”
Garrett shrugged.
“Let me guess. You already told your mom about me?”
“Guilty.” Garrett winced. “Am I that transparent? Is that a bad thing? That I told her I mean?”
“Again presumptuous, but flattering. I have that effect on people,” she teased.
He smiled at her as the waiter returned. It was a smile that told her she’d had an effect on him, all kidding aside.
Claire liked the way he was looking at her. She liked that he’d told his mom about her and even the fact that he’d consider taking her home.
“Did you grow up in Morgan’s Falls?” she asked over casual eating conversation.
“No. We had a place just off of Shay and McCarthy.” Claire nodded indicating she knew where it was. “I’m not too far from there now. There’s a school nearby and they have that great park…”
“I know the one. It’s been there forever. My mom and I used to go back when swings and merry-go-rounds weren’t lawsuits waiting to happen. So, your parents…they just up and moved? How long ago?”
“A couple of years.”
Claire was puzzled by his sudden stiffness. It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss it further. She thought it odd and welcomed the waiter’s return to take their order. The conversation would undoubtedly take a different course when it resumed.
As the waiter left their table Claire’s attention was caught by a small child two tables down. Garrett watched her watching the little girl’s animated antics. She turned back to him with an amused smile.
“They undoubtedly have their hands full”, she laughed.
“That’s a two year old for you,” Garrett agreed. “So I suppose you see yourself with a whole passel of kids,” he teased.
She shook her head. “No worry that’s going to happen.” She looked back at the little girl still giving her parents a run for their money. “I wouldn’t have minded one or two…” Her voice was noticeably more quiet. She sighed then looked back and shrugged.
“So, Claire, tell me more about yourself.” The you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look on Claire’s face caused Garrett to burst into laughter that garnered looks from the occupants of the tables nearby. “Too psychologistish huh?” he said more quietly.
“Quite!” she teased. “You do have a way of pulling out that couch, don’t you?”
He nodded and shrugged his apology.
“What could I tell you? I’m quite shallow actually.” He began to protest, which she ignored and went on. “You already know I’m a poor, orphaned, rich girl and that I don’t do much of anything… Oh! I know something you’ll never guess… I paint.”
“Really? Paint as in …” he tried to coax her along. She knew what he was doing and decided to toy with him. “Walls and stuff,” she shrugged. “As in houses and such. A little subway graffiti every now and again.”
She was so serious, he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not, no matter how unrealistic it seemed. He worked his lower jaw as he tried to picture her with a roller in hand decked out in painter’s overalls.
“Oh what a priceless expression. Almost as good as the look on Mr. Ballard’s face when he thought his job was on the line,” she laughed then reached over, without thought, to pat his hand. He jumped at her unexpected touch. They stared at each other, then he surprised her by grasping her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips.
“The hand of an artist. You shall have to show me your work sometime. And I shall have to remind myself of that which I forgot that first night.”
“And what was that?” she asked enjoying the continued warmth of his gaze.
“That I must always be on guard around you!” He kissed her hand again then released it.
The warm feeling remained as she clasped her hands together beneath the table and the date lapsed into casual comfort.
It was nearing 1:00 when they left the restaurant and headed slowly back toward her building.
“Ah! You found a spot to park. Amazing. They’re not always easy to come by,” Claire commented as they paused beside his car a few spaces down from the circle drive that marked the entrance to her building. “You can always tell the doorman you’re here to visit me and they’ll give you a pass for the garage.”
Garrett smiled sheepishly. “So…does that statement serve as permission to call on you again?” he asked.
“Hmm. I suppose perhaps it does…as well as alleviating the awkward situation of you trying to figure out how to ask me.”
He shook his head. “You really are borderline wicked.”
She nodded in agreement and they both laughed.
“So? Are we making another date or is it just an open invite; the old I’ll call you - sometime approach?” she asked.
“You know, Claire, you should really try being less bashful. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind,” he teased.
“Oh, my dear, if I truly did speak my mind even your psychologist training wouldn’t keep you from being shocked.” Claire smiled her most wicked smile as she leaned toward him.
Garrett swallowed hard. She ran her hand down his arm and he shuddered.
“Women in your circles aren’t so forward?” She tried to sound demure. “Perhaps they just don’t know how to ask for what they want.” She reached up and kissed him.
“Oh Claire.” He gazed down at the most delightful woman he’d ever come across. “As much as I’d love to pursue your train of thought…”
“I know. It’s that darn boy scout blood of yours.” She looked away to hide the feeling of rejection. Men never told her no.
“I don’t want to sound preachy but doesn’t what you’re suggesting entail even a smidgen of commitment?” he blurted out.
“Why?” she asked. “It takes a lot less of the getting-to-know-you conversation than the dates we’ve had,” she told him.
“But…intimacy! It’s so…” he fought for a word.
“Intimate!” she added sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. “Come on Garrett. Tell me you’re not just a little bit interested.” She pressed against him, molding herself to him, surprised he didn’t immediately step away.
“I never said I wasn’t interested, Claire. I just prefer getting to know a woman starting here.” He pointed to her head. “And here.” He tapped the exposed flesh above her heart. “Then…” He kissed her; a passionate kiss that left her breathless.
She stared up at him for a moment, fighting for air in shallow gasps. “You confuse me,” she said as she pushed away from him.
“Seems pretty straight forward to me,” he laughed. “And, how about lunch Wednesday? Can you meet me at Louie’s at 1:00? I have the afternoon free.”
“Free for?” she asked with the same sarcastic tone.
“Free for not having to rush away if we end up having another 2 ½ hour meal. If our history holds true, we seem to need a couple of hours minimum to make it through a meal.”
She smiled. “Are you sure you’re not an angel in a handsome man’s clothing?” she asked as she kissed him again, a light peck on the cheek.
The desire in his gaze gave her the answer. Another smile and she walked away.
“See you on Wednesday,” she called over her shoulder knowing he’d remain where he was, watching her go, until she’d disappeared behind the heavy doors of her building. A quick glance back as Charlie opened the doors told her she was right.
* * * * *
Just inside the door of Louie’s Pub and Grille, Garrett waited, pleasure evident on his face as Claire crossed the threshold.
“Do you ever not look like a million bucks?” he asked as he kissed her cheek.
“Only when I look like a trillion,” she teased. As always happened, heads turned as they were escorted to their table.
“I presume you can’t tell me about your day, so I won’t even ask. How about whatever it is you do to fill your hours when you’re not at your office?” she asked as they waited for pre-meal salads.
“Well, I spend a lot of time reading and going over cases...”
“No. I mean in your off time. When you’re not working,” she interrupted as she squeezed lemon over her freshly delivered salad.
“No dressing?” He scrunched his face ignoring her question.
“Not as healthy,” she told him, “but feel free. I won’t lecture if you slather your rabbit food in mouth watering goodness. Gee. It does sound better that way. Okay, you’ve convinced me.” She reached for the bottle of dressing and poured it on. “What?”
He was shaking his head. “You know people who manage to be easily persuaded or talk themselves into things are good candidates for my services,” he teased.
“Very funny. I’m trying to be more receptive to new and different. I took a chance in meeting you again, didn’t I?” she teased. “And you never answered my question.”
“That is what I do. What? It can be enjoyable,” he protested when she rolled her eyes. “What should I be doing? Frequenting clubs and seducing beautiful women – a different one for every night of the week? Not sure that would be good for my practice.”
“Point given,” she conceded. “So you just read all your notes…”
“Not exactly. I look over them or think about sessions. I try to come at them from all different angles. I have to admit it’s quite a rush seeing the light of change or realization come across someone. That’s when I know I’ve truly helped them and they can continue on with normal life.”
“What is normal, Garrett? Isn’t that a hegemonic reality? One man’s normal may be total chaos and lunacy to another.”
“You’re right, of course, and that’s partly why I look for alternate ways of helping people find the bridge. I enjoy it.”
“So I suppose you always wanted to be a psychologist?” she asked.
“Actually, I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to be. I knew I liked helping people and getting inside to see if I could figure out what made them tick. My parents were great about helping me explore alternatives and understanding where my passions lay then grasping hold of those passions to fulfillment.”
Claire couldn’t help but feel his excitement. She also felt a twinge of envy that he had been so nurtured by his parents. She wondered what it would have been like had her dad embraced her love of art and helped her pursue it. Her mom, of course, loved everything she did and helped as much as she could - so long as it didn’t ruffle Daddy’s feathers.
“Of course, I also wanted to be a gymnast,” he told her.
“You’re joking!” She eyed him. Surely he couldn’t be serious. “Garrett, I think you lie as well as I do!”
He laughed. “Actually, I did take gymnastics as a young boy and loved it, but… well… my height kind of got in the way as I aged. I enjoyed horseback riding too. That old stables on the far side of the river front. Dad and I used to go there nearly every Saturday. He always loved horses.”
“Is that why they moved to the country” It seemed reasonable.
Garrett shook his head no. “That was his dream, but…”
“Dr. O’Bryan!” The excited female voice cut him off.
“Victoria. How nice to see you. You look well. How are things going?” He stood and clasped hands with the young woman around Claire’s age. She leaned in forcing him to kiss her cheek to avoid an obvious snub.
Claire rolled her eyes. He shrugged, though slight enough that only Claire detected it.
“I’m splendid, Dr. Dreadfully splendid. You know how it is for me.” She made a roller coaster wave motion with her hand indicating life’s ups and downs. “I probably shouldn’t have stopped seeing you,” she spoke in a more quiet, conspiratorial tone. She put her hand to her mouth as though she had an intimate secret then glanced for the first time at Claire.
“Hello, Tori.” Claire’s voice was cool.
After a momentary loss of composure the other woman regained herself. “Claire. Darling. What a surprise. I had no idea you knew Dr. O’Bryan.”
“A mutual shock,” Claire glanced at Garrett who was assessing the situation with an air of surprise himself. She bit her lip to keep from laughing so that she might maintain her position of toying with poor Tori. How transparent Garrett was to her. It was as if she could see perfectly the thoughts inside his head. He was wondering whether he should step in to diffuse any biting and clawing that might accompany the hissing and raised backs. He waited.
“So, I never realized you did lunch appointments, Dr. Is that something new? What a novel idea.” Tori tried to cover her disappointment.
“Actually, Tori, darling, I’m not a patient. I’m a date.”
Garrett closed his eyes as the words were spoken by his beautiful companion who had just been handed the perfect opening for a wounding bite.
Tori was stunned, her jaw slack with disdain as she looked from Claire to Garrett and back again. Claire smiled ever so very sweetly, then commenced to eating her salad again.
“You… are… a … a work of art, Claire Orion. You just have your finger in everybody’s pie,” Tori fumed. “And you!” She turned to Garrett. “I’d have thought you smart enough to know better.” She turned, nearly tripping in her too-high heels and marched from the restaurant.
Claire continued to eat her salad without so much as an ounce of remorse. “What?” She scrunched her shoulders. Garrett had not stopped staring at her since Tori left.
“You do realize you managed to undo months of therapy in a matter of minutes, don’t you?” he asked her.
“Oh fooey! Tori Johansen doesn’t need therapy. She’s nothing’ but a spoiled, rotten bi… bi, ba, be, buh, buh bazillionaire heiress,” she fished for a replacement word at his look of reproach. “What she really needs is turned over someone’s knee and delivered a good, hard swat!” She forcefully placed her fork down on her plate, pushed back slightly from the table and crossed her arms over her chest.
Garrett shook his head, trying hard not to laugh. “Opinions aren’t allowed in the world of psychology, you know.” He smiled and she softened up a bit. “I do have to ask because I’m dying of curiosity. You were the other woman in the boyfriend incident, weren’t you?”
“You’re not supposed to discuss cases. Patient/doctor privilege or something,” she dodged.
“You were!”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I did her a favor with that one. He was no good,” she glanced away and continued under her breath, “in more ways than one.”
Garrett laughed. “You really are a work of art,” he told her.
“I like art. You?” she teased as their meal continued with a light air.
“You like movies?” Claire asked as they talked. “You mentioned th
e old stables at the park. What about the refurbished theater? They just happen to have a Wednesday afternoon matinee…” she fished.
“I forgot all about that old place. What do they show?” He seemed genuinely interested.
Claire smiled. She’d allowed him another easy bridging of events. They were both pleased to find they shared an interest in older movies and that two of the Grand Lady’s screens were reserved for exactly that.
“… but you’re not really dressed for a stroll around the park and a trip to the theater,” he commented on what seemed the obvious.
“Oh, come on! Here, watch this…” She pulled the clips from her hair and fluffed it about her face and shoulders. She readjusted the neckline of her shirt as he watched with gaping mouth, then stood to reposition her belt and pull her leggings to expose more flesh. “Now all I need is a piece of gum and everyone will think I’m one of the park hookers.”
“You really have no restraint, do you?” He stood and reached for his wallet. ”And we need to get out of here because everyone is staring.” He took her arm and they began to walk toward the cashier.
Claire laughed then whispered, “You do know what people do with hookers, don’t you? We could bypass the movies all together.”
He shook his head. “You look perfect for the park, Claire. Absolutely perfect.”
“Put your wallet away then before people think you’re getting ready to pay me off.”
“But… the meal…”
“Already taken care of,” she continued in their whispered tones.
“Thank you, Ms. Orion,” the cashier called as she steered Garrett toward the door.
They secured Garrett’s car and drove the short distance to the old theater to find it a good thing they’d driven and foregone the stroll. The movie schedule had changed. They had about fifteen minutes to spare.
Arms of an Angel Page 4