A Matter of Time 01 - 02 (Volume 1) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  He nodded at me. "Very perceptive question, son." But he didn't answer so I figured it was private.

  He was intrigued by the assortment of pens on my desk, and I explained that each one had its own special function. I took him with me to get my afternoon coffee from Starbucks, and on my way back, when I hesitated, he asked me what I was doing. I explained about the scented oils that I was out of and needed to pick up. I laughed when he offered to go along to the head shop with me.

  Mr. Ward looking at bongs and candles and watching people smoke from a hookah was hysterical. I let him smell the patchouli, sandalwood, and amber oil I wore and he cocked his head back and forth, giving me a look like it was okay. I couldn't stop smiling. When we got back, Dane was there and thanked me for entertaining our guest. I nodded and Mr. Ward draped an arm across my shoulders and said that he had not had such a lovely afternoon in he couldn't remember how long.

  After work Dane sent me to pick up wine for him to take to Thanksgiving dinner the following day at his friend Jude's house. He invited me along for the fifth time and I turned him down for the last time. I assured him that I would be fine.

  While not convinced, neither did he push me. He knew me well enough to know the harder I was pressed, the harder I resisted.

  On my way to the train I got a call.

  "Jory?"

  "Yes?"

  "Jory, this is Truman Ward from this afternoon."

  "Oh," I smiled. "How're you, sir?"

  "I'm good, thank you. I wanted to call and see if maybe you would like to join my family for dinner tomorrow night, say around five?"

  "Sir, tomorrow's Thanksgiving."

  "Yes, I know," he chuckled. "That's why I'm calling."

  "But sir, you're having like twenty people you said and—"

  "And one more won't make a difference. I have to say I so enjoyed meeting you and talking to you and I would just love it if you showed up."

  "But—"

  "It's very casual, son, no suits or that kind of crap, just football and good food and family and friends—you'll have a good time. Please say you'll come."

  How could I say no? "Yessir."

  "Oh excellent. I'm really pleased."

  "You're kinda weird," I assured him.

  And he laughed harder before he gave me the address.

  * * * *

  The train to Highland Park dropped me off on a platform in the middle of town. I saw the deli Mr. Ward had told me to look for, and so took the right as I had been directed. I passed the little shops and found that the crisp air, the leaves blowing around on the ground, and the gray sky were very soothing. I loved being outside in the fall, the smell of fireplaces, that mix of cold, slight damp, and dirt making me feel good. Like winter was coming, which I loved most of all.

  The house was a huge four-story Georgian colonial with one of those crescent-shaped driveways, done in red cobblestone. There were flower beds on both sides of the porch that went from one end of the front of the house to the other. The fall cornucopia wreath on the front door was very festive, if not a little over the top. I used the knocker because I couldn't find the doorbell and waited.

  I was ignored for a minute when the door opened. The guy that answered was talking to someone behind him and was still engaged in conversation, only turning to me after several minutes. When he did, I felt better. His smile was warm and seemed genuine.

  "Oh," he seemed taken aback. "Hi. Who're you?"

  I smiled wide. "I'm Jory."

  "You're Jory?" He was staring at me, deep into my eyes.

  "My dad's friend Jory?"

  I chuckled. "Yeah."

  "Oh for crissakes, Colt, let him in."

  He stepped sideways and I walked past him, turning to wait for him to close the door.

  "Hi," a woman said, stepping in close to me, offering her hand. "I'm Cretia Ward, Truman's daughter."

  I eased her forward and kissed her cheek before I let her go. "Jory Keyes."

  "Well, Jory," she nodded, looking me over. "You are so not what we expected."

  "No?"

  "No." She giggled. "Gimme your coat."

  "You were thinkin' I was gonna be taller?" I teased her, sliding the cashmere peacoat off my shoulders to hand to her.

  She giggled. "He said colleague from work. I was not expecting an Abercrombie & Fitch model."

  I laughed and passed her the bottle of wine Dane had made me take when I told him where I was going.

  "Oh thank you. Let's go give it to my mom."

  "Wait."

  We both turned to the guy who had his hand out for me to take.

  "I didn't meet you."

  I smiled warmly and took the offered hand, covering it with my other. "Jory."

  "Colton." He nodded and his eyes didn't leave mine.

  "Pleasure."

  "You too, Jory."

  I took a breath and let Cretia grab my hand and pull me after her.

  My apartment would have fit in the kitchen, and when I made that observation aloud Cretia smiled and wrapped both arms around my one. I heard my name almost shouted and couldn't contain the smile as Mr. Ward walked over and pulled me into a tight bear hug.

  "You made it—I'm so pleased."

  When he pushed me out to arm's length, I smiled into his eyes.

  "Come meet my wife."

  Mrs. Ward wanted me to call her Bette and she, too, couldn't seem to keep her hands off me, instead taking my hand and showing me her home. She was impressed that I knew that the china in her glass cabinets was actually Limoge from France.

  "Jory," she said, looking into my eyes. "You're just full of useless information, aren't you?"

  I laughed with her. "Pretty much."

  I sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter talking to her, and Cretia came in and assured me that not one of her children was allowed to do that.

  "It's because he's so pretty," Bette told her daughter.

  "You are pretty," Cretia baited me. "I wish I had your hair and your long eyelashes."

  "I never thought much of brown eyes." Bette smiled warmly at me. "But yours are just gorgeous, Jory. Like melted chocolate."

  "Oooh, Jory, you've got her waxing poetic." Cretia giggled.

  "Better watch out, she's gonna wanna adopt you."

  "That'd be all right," I assured her.

  "Why?" Bette was suddenly wary. "Where's your mother, angel?"

  "Oh I don't know." I forced a smile. "I never met her."

  The gasp was followed by her hand clutching my knee.

  "What happened?"

  So I told her about how I'd been abandoned, left with my grandmother to raise, and Cretia stayed instead of leaving.

  When people came into the kitchen to say hello as more and more guests were arriving, she shushed them and waved them away dismissively. I watched the sheepish looks on their faces, but I went on with my story because she was riveted. I spoke fast, in the same matter-of-fact way I had when I'd explained the circumstances to Sam. Before him, and now Mrs. Ward, I hadn't talked about my mother in ages.

  And all at once I realized that any sting that had been lingering from my childhood was gone. It was weird to think that I had ever felt sorry for myself because of her abandonment. It seemed so insignificant a detail now. I had rich, warm memories of growing up with my grandmother. I wished I'd had more time with her. This was my only regret anymore.

  Bette Ward did not share my reaction. She leaned into my lap and put her arms around my waist. Cretia had tears in her eyes as I patted her mother's back and rested my cheek in her hair.

  "Jesus, what's goin' on in here?"

  We all turned to the door and there was a stunning man there looking at the three of us.

  "Hi, Trip." Cretia sniffled, smiling through her tears. "We're just talking."

  "About what, the Holocaust?"

  I chuckled and tipped Bette's face up to me before I kissed her forehead. "You all right?"

  She nodded before she let out a shaky breath. "J
ump down and meet my son."

  I slid off the counter, and the man came forward to meet me. He had been looking at his mother and his sister, but finally I drew his attention.

  "Hi," he said softly, moving forward, holding out his hand for me to take.

  I smiled and took his hand, liking the feel of the warm skin in mime. "Hey. I'm Jory."

  He nodded and his eyes locked on mine. "Trip."

  "Really?"

  He shrugged, still holding my hand. "What can I tell you?

  It's a bad nickname that stuck. That's why ya always gotta be careful with that kind of thing."

  "I'll remember that." I said, and tried to release his hand.

  He tightened his hold so I didn't move.

  "Are you the plastic surgeon or the tax attorney?"

  His smile was broad and his eyes crinkled in half. "You've been talking to my dad."

  "Yes."

  "Well, I'm going to be a surgeon, but as of right now I'm still a resident."

  I nodded. "Well, he's very proud of you."

  "I know he is," he said, slipping his hand from mine, the other immediately going to my shoulder. "Did you get a drink?"

  "No."

  "No?" He looked past me to his mother. "What is this, dehydrate the guest day? You have like eight other people without drinks out there, Mother! I told you before, you can't be in here cooking—you gotta mingle. You're the hostess."

  She smacked his arm as she passed him, touched my cheek, and left through the swinging door with Cretia right behind her.

  "So did you really take my dad to a head shop?"

  I winced a little and he smiled as he led me out into the living room.

  Colton met us and invited me over to meet his fiancee, Channing Sinclair. Truman was right, she was very nice, and the way she looked at his son had to be very satisfying. Her father came over to meet me and then her mother came over and then cousins and friends and it very quickly became a blur. I did what I was supposed to and asked if I could help in the kitchen. I was ushered back out and went to sit with Truman. For whatever reason I was comfortable with him and we started talking about landscaping. I told him I would love to look at the backyard and he took me up on my offer.

  We walked out to the gazebo and then the rest of the way out to the very edge of his property. His neighbor was out with his family, playing some croquet, so we both leaned over and talked awhile. It was really nice and I decided right there and then that someday I would own a house. It had never occurred to me before.

  When we got back it was time to eat, and I was seated between Cretia and Trip for dinner. It was fun: lots of conversation between people who seemed to all genuinely like one another. I had never experienced the whole family meal thing except for once before with Sam's family. This family and their friends weren't loud and everyone sat down together, no kids running around, just eating, drinking, talking, and lots of laughing. I was comfortable, and when Bette leaned over me, wrapping her arms around my neck, I let my head rest against hers.

  "Mom?" Trip asked her.

  "Your dad was right. I want to keep this one."

  "Sorry, man," Trip chuckled. "She's crazy."

  "I like her," I said, closing my eyes, leaning back, and letting her hold me.

  "Come keep me company," she said quickly and I got up and followed her into the kitchen.

  She washed and I dried and we turned on the radio in the kitchen and I started dancing. She laughed and I was all over her. Cretia came in and told me all that heat was wasted on her mother.

  "No it's not," Bette assured her. "But you know, Jory, I've got to go to a reception tomorrow night and they want me to get up and do the Electronic Glide."

  "The Electric Slide," I corrected her and held out my hand.

  "Here, c'mere and I'll show you."

  Her smile was mischievous and Cretia watched us move to the middle of the floor. I had her shaking her ass and doing the turns in fifteen minutes. She was having a blast, and when Channing and Colton came in and joined us, I told them that we could do the Hustle next.

  I went to get my peacoat out of the hall closet, and when I turned around Trip was there.

  "Where ya going?"

  "I gotta work tomorrow and the last train's coming pretty soon."

  "The train? You didn't drive?"

  I smiled at him, shaking my head. "No, I don't have a car."

  "Stay," he said seriously, hand on my shoulder. "I'll take you home. I live in the city too."

  "Oh no, I don't wanna put you out. I can just—"

  His hand moved to the side of my neck. "You're not putting me out, Jory."

  I nodded and his hand slid to the nape of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair.

  "In fact," he smiled gently. "Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

  I tipped my head and looked at him. "Your dad said you've got women all over you—you just haven't met the right one yet."

  "My dad sees what he wants, and so far I haven't been serious enough about anyone to bring them home."

  "Meaning a guy."

  He nodded slowly. "That's right."

  I stepped back away from him. "Your old man really likes me—I am not gonna be the one to give him even a second of misery."

  He gave me a funny look. "Baby, you're jumping the gun a little, aren't you? Shouldn't we screw around before we decide if you're gonna be the one I'll bring home to my folks?" The last was finished with a chuckle as he grabbed hold of the lapel of my coat.

  I nodded and brushed his hand off me before I jogged back into the living room. I went to kiss Bette good-bye and it was nice that she begged me to stay longer. Truman got up and pulled me into a brief clench before he thanked me for coming and made me promise not to be a stranger. Colton and Cretia both gave me their numbers, and Channing told me to call her the following day, so she could get my address to invite me to her wedding. It was nice that they all wanted to include me. My phone vibrated and I excused myself to answer it.

  "Jory."

  "Hey, boss." I smiled into the phone.

  "Are you still in Highland Park?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Because I'm in Parkridge, so if you want I'll come by and pick you up on my way back."

  Which translated to "I'm coming to get you." Because he never offered unless he had already decided what he wanted to do. He wasn't hardwired to make overtures; if he ever made a suggestion, the answer just needed to be yes.

  "Okay," I said quickly. "Lemme give you the address."

  "I have it. The man is my client, after all."

  "Yessir."

  "Knock it off."

  I smiled wide and realized, as usual, that just talking to him brought up this bubbly feeling in me. I had family—he was it. "You want me to wait outside?"

  "Yes, Jory, stand outside and freeze your ass off."

  I laughed and people looked at me as I hung up and sat back down on the couch beside Bette.

  "You're going to stay?"

  "My boss is gonna get me, so I'll stay a little longer."

  "Oh I can't wait to meet Dad's architect," Cretia squeaked out. "He speaks so highly of him."

  "Jory, can I speak to you?" Trip called to me from the kitchen.

  I got up, and when the door swung closed behind me, I saw him leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, arms crossed, waiting.

  "Yes?"

  "That was stupid, what I said before, and your concern for my dad is actually really refreshing." The corner of his mouth curled with a trace of a smile. "So I'm asking again—may I please take you out?"

  I looked at him, trying to figure him out. Aesthetically there was no reason to say no. The man was very nice to look at. With clear hazel eyes, thick, dark brown hair and a lean, muscular frame, he was definitely my type. The problem was he had "player" written all over him, and I wasn't trying to be another notch in anyone's bedpost.

  "I don't think so," I said slowly, because it wasn't what I really wanted
to say. It was the smart thing to do, though. "I think you're outta my league, Doctor Ward."

  He nodded and pushed off the counter, walking toward me. "If I promise to just feed you—not even try and kiss you?

  How 'bout then?"

  "What's the fun in that?" I grinned lazily.

  He bit his bottom lip. "Listen, Jory—how 'bout you take me out? You name the place and I'll be there. You can pay and everything."

  I squinted at him and his smile lit his face. "How is that a good deal for me?"

  He reached out and grabbed the lapel of my coat as he had earlier, drawing me close. "C'mon, I'm sorry already—

  Jesus, I never work this hard."

  I arched a brow for him.

  "And you know you're gorgeous so you can treat me like this," he said, his eyes locked on mine.

  I just stared back.

  "You want me to beg?"

  My eyes narrowed.

  "God, you are beautiful... say yes."

  "I'll meet you at seven for drinks at The Arbor, over there off Halsted."

  He nodded and smiled, undoing the buttons on my coat, his hands slipping inside to my sweater as he stepped closer to me. "I was thinking it could be tonight. A friend of mine is having a party—I'd love to take you." Slowly he stroked the back of his fingers up the front of my sweater, over my abdomen.

  "Tomorrow," I said.

  We both heard the doorbell ring and I wondered absently where the button was outside. Bette called for me, and when I turned to go, Trip caught me with an arm around my neck.

  "Don't blow me off, okay? I want to see you."

  I smiled and let my head fall forward as his lips brushed over the back of my neck. He felt good, there was no denying that. "Okay."

  "Jory, are you sure I can't take you home?"

  But the door opened and he was instantly off me. Cretia poked her head in and told me that my boss was standing in the living room, waiting for me. I saw how big her eyes were.

  "He's gorgeous, right?" I teased her.

  "Ohmygod Jory, that's the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life."

  I chuckled and followed her out with Trip trailing after me.