Forever Mine, Valentine

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “It means I’ll pay for my hot dog and you’ll pay for yours. Dutch treat.”

  “Why on earth would it be called that?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie.” Jill stored her paints and picked up the carrying case. “But I can’t imagine you’ve never heard the expression. Where have you been hanging out, anyway?”

  “Nowhere, I hope,” Charlie said, glancing down at his clothes. “Although perhaps some of these seams may be coming apart,” he added, straining to see over his shoulder. “I—”

  “Never mind, Charlie,” Jill said, taking his arm. “Nothing’s ripped. Let’s go eat.” She started walking down the mall. “Stairs or escalator?”

  “Stairs. I have the worst time deciding which of those rolling steps to take. Lines form behind me while I work up my courage to stand on one and let it carry me down. Once a large man picked me up and deposited me on the step in front of him. I was dreadfully embarrassed and haven’t ridden the escalator since.”

  “Makes sense,” Jill said. “I’ve never been wild about them, either.” In spite of herself, Jill was growing fond of Charlie. Maybe she was homesick, she thought, and Charlie reminded her of G.G.

  She considered whether she ought to call Aaron tonight, although she tried to keep long-distance expenses to a minimum. Besides that, whenever she called she could hear the unspoken question from him: Have you settled on what to do with your life so you can give up this crazy trip and come home? Unfortunately, the answer was still no.

  “Spencer filled me in on your conversation with him this morning,” Charlie said when they’d bought their corndog lunch and seated themselves in an orange plastic booth. “And I admire your dedication to your goal.”

  “Your friend Mr. Jegger thinks I’m selfish.”

  “Spencer is a bit quick on the trigger. I’m sure you’re not selfish. You have a sense of commitment. Besides, I understand your great-grandmother expects a postcard from every state capital.”

  “That’s right. She’s expecting one from Salt Lake City in about ten days.”

  “Ten days.” Charlie clucked his tongue. “Far too soon. I can’t believe that your great-grandmother would want you to turn your back on true love,” he added slyly.

  “Charlie, you said you weren’t going to do this.”

  Charlie shook his corndog at her. “But Spencer is such a wonderful—”

  “Then I could drive back to Colorado Springs this summer, couldn’t I? Maybe I agree with you. He seems like a really nice guy, and maybe I should get to know him. But first I have to finish this trip.”

  “You don’t understand,” Charlie said, gesturing more wildly with his corndog. “Valentine’s Day is crucial. That’s the time when Spencer, and perhaps you, as well, will suddenly—Oh, my gracious!”

  Jill watched his corndog sail from the stick and arc over his shoulder. Charlie twisted in the booth and winced as the corndog landed with a plop on the table behind them.

  “Mommy, somebody’s corndog flew over here!” shouted a little boy of about five.

  Jill smothered her laughter with her hand as the little boy grabbed the half-eaten corndog and scrambled to his knees facing Charlie.

  “Mister?” he said, shoving the corndog forward. “Did you lose this?”

  “Why, yes, I believe I did,” Charlie replied gravely, and accepted the corndog as if it were a gold pocket watch. “Thank you for retrieving it, young man.”

  “You’re welcome,” the little boy said, equally solemn. “Sometimes food gets away from me, too.”

  Jill glanced into the merry face of the little boy’s mother, who was also having trouble controlling herself. The two women exchanged a glance of shared fun before returning their attention to their lunch companions.

  “I thought they were more firmly attached,” Charlie said as he skewered his meal with the wooden stick. “Now, where were we?” he asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

  “I’m going to miss you when I leave here, Charlie,” Jill said with a smile.

  “I’m not important. Your future is. Which reminds me of what I was saying. Aren’t you aware of the legend of St. Valentine’s Day?”

  Jill sipped her drink. “I guess not.”

  “Well, when conditions are propitious, meaning that a man or woman is ready to find a mate for life, he or she will marry the first eligible person they meet on St. Valentine’s Day, and the wedding will take place within a year.”

  “You say that so seriously, Charlie, as if you really believe it.”

  Charlie gazed at the ceiling. “Forgive them their ignorance. They’re children of the modern age.”

  “Charlie, come on! That’s superstition and you know it.”

  “I certainly do not know it. And if Spencer doesn’t meet a suitable young woman on February fourteenth, there’s no telling who he might end up with. I feel an overwhelming responsibility, knowing that he’ll be here in the mall that day, among crowds of female prospects. Why, he could run into almost anyone. It’s frightening. That’s why you simply must stay.”

  Jill was trying hard not to giggle. Charlie’s eccentricity was laughable, but touching, too, in a way. She couldn’t bear to make fun of him and hurt his feelings. “Work on another girl,” she suggested. “I won’t be here on February fourteenth. I have to finish my trip so I can point to that accomplishment whenever I’m accused of not finishing what I start.”

  “Spencer mentioned your nickname.”

  “Jill of All Trades, Mistress of None.”

  Charlie clucked in disapproval. “Negative messages, negative messages,” he said. “How I despise them.”

  “People have reason to say that about me,” Jill admitted after taking a swallow of lemonade. “That’s why I’m so determined…” She lost her train of thought, distracted by the woman and her little boy leaving the booth.

  “You must not intend to be a window painter, then.” Charlie searched through their lunch bag for another container of mustard. “Although I can’t imagine why not, with your obvious talent and cleverness.”

  Jill didn’t answer as she concentrated on the mother and child. She watched until they were out of sight.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked.

  “Nothing. What were you saying?” Jill glanced back at him and smiled.

  “We were discussing your career.”

  “Oh, that. Well, I want a career where I can make a difference in the world. That much I do know. I’ve had fun painting windows, but it’s a means to an end, a way to buy thinking time and discover what I really should do.”

  “Hmm.”

  “People have told me I can do anything I set my mind to, so I guess the reason I never finish anything is that I haven’t set my mind to it.”

  “Except you’ve finished painting windows all over the country.”

  “That doesn’t count.” Jill had her corndog halfway to her mouth for another bite when three older men sauntered into the restaurant and glanced around as if looking for someone.

  “There he is,” said one, a plump fellow with glasses who then led the way back to their booth. “Hey, Charlie!”

  Charlie turned in his seat. “Robert! And Bernie and George, too. Glad you could make it.”

  “When something’s important, it’s important,” the man in glasses said as he slid in beside Charlie.

  Charlie nodded. “Right you are. Jill, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine from the Senior Striders,” he continued. “This is Robert, and over there’s Bernie.”

  “Hi.” Jill made room for a gaunt man who leaned a hickory walking stick against the wall before sitting down. She knew Charlie was up to something, but she was also curious enough to stay around for a little while and find out what it was.

  “And that’s George.” Charlie motioned to the ruddy-faced, balding man pulling a chair up to the end of the table. “Gentleman, I’d like you to meet Jill Amory, the lady who’s been creating the clever valentine window painting.”

  “Exc
ellent job, young woman,” George said from the end of the table. “And I see you even consented to have lunch with this old coot.”

  “Yes, but she insisted on a Holland treat,” Charlie grumbled.

  Jill glanced at the puzzled expressions surrounding her and bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Um, that’s Dutch treat, Charlie.”

  “Oh,” Robert said with a relieved chuckle. “Dutch treat. I get it. Dutch…Holland. Sometimes I think Charlie’s been on another planet for the past fifty years, you know?”

  Smiling, Jill nodded.

  “Whether I understand all the idioms of the modern day is unimportant,” Charlie said testily. “We’re here to discuss the mall problems.”

  “Just as I suspected, Charlie,” Jill said, realizing he’d called these men in as reinforcements. “This is one meeting I won’t be attending. I have work to do, so if you’ll please let me by, Bernie, I’ll leave you gentlemen to your discussion.”

  Bernie started to rise. “I was afraid of this, Charlie. Maybe this mall situation will end up being my job, after all.”

  “Don’t be hasty, my good man,” Charlie said. “You remember what we decided about that.”

  “Right,” added Robert. “Sit down a second, Bern,” he directed.

  Jill didn’t understand their cryptic comments, nor did she want to. “Listen, I—”

  Robert leaned toward her. “Can you give us five minutes of your time? That’s all we ask. Five minutes. You haven’t finished your lunch, so you can eat while we talk.”

  “I can take this with me,” she said, picking up her corndog and drink to demonstrate how easily she could leave, lunch and all.

  “We have new information about the scope of the problem,” George added. “And if what Charlie says about your character is true, you’ll want to hear this.”

  Jill glanced at Charlie. “My character?”

  “Charlie’s an excellent judge of character,” Bernie said, turning toward her. “He thinks highly of you, so we’ve agreed to this meeting as a way of convincing you to help us.”

  “Just give us five minutes,” Robert repeated.

  “Whatever Charlie told you, I’m not worth all this attention,” Jill said, laughing.

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” George said. “Can we tell you what we’ve found out?”

  “I guess so.” With a resigned sigh she put her food back on the table. To be honest, having these men court her for her experience felt good.

  “You first, Robert,” George said.

  “Well, it looks like the melodrama theater’s done for,” Robert said, taking off his glasses and reaching for a napkin from the dispenser. “Word has it that the amateur groups will be charged a hefty fee for performing starting next week.” Robert breathed on his lenses and polished them with the napkin. “I’d underwrite the costs myself, but I’ve heard Tippy really wants to convert the space back to retail.” After his speech Robert replaced his glasses and peered through them at Jill.

  “Tippy’s hoping to evict the museum, too, and get a department store chain to lease that space,” added Bernie.

  “Has anyone besides Spence Jegger talked with her?” Jill asked.

  “Gladys tried,” George said. “Tippy warned her that the Senior Striders were on shaky ground anyway, because their exercise program took space on the walkways and might interfere with other people who were there to spend money.”

  “The woman does sound like a barracuda,” Jill acknowledged.

  “And she’s moving fast,” Charlie added, shaking his head. “Something must be done at once.”

  “A protest of the tenants is the only way to approach this,” George said from the end of the table. “She’d have to pay attention to them. With Spencer at the helm and a good assistant, which we hope will be you, we’d have a chance to turn the situation around.”

  Jill put down her naked corndog stick. “I’m sure Spence can handle it without me.” She could feel herself rapidly losing her conviction, thinking maybe a few extra days would do the trick. Then she’d push on to Salt Lake City.

  “Spencer’s taking inventory at the store. Everyone in the mall does at this time of year,” George said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we can let this problem go until after inventory.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” Robert said, “but I haven’t met all the tenants. Charlie pointed out that Jill has, and recently, through her window-painting business. We also need someone with clerical skills, which I don’t have. I always hired secretaries to do that when I was in business.”

  “Same here,” George said.

  “We need someone young and energetic, someone with creative ideas,” Bernie added, turning to her. “You seem perfect for the job.”

  Jill leaned back against the unyielding plastic booth and focused on Charlie. “You wouldn’t call this heavyhanded or anything, would you?”

  “My dear, I simply feel that you need to be fully aware of the situation. Perhaps if you could see your way clear to give us three weeks…” He lifted his bushy gray eyebrows in silent appeal.

  “For the good of the mall, or because you want me to fall in love with Spence Jegger?” she said boldly.

  Robert looked startled. “Fall in love? Who said anything about falling in love?”

  Jill could tell from the flush on Charlie’s lined cheeks that he hadn’t mentioned that aspect to his Senior Strider buddies.

  “Yeah, Charlie,” George said, leaning forward. “I thought you wanted us to convince Jill to stay and help, but you didn’t say anything about matchmaking.”

  Charlie turned a deeper shade of red. “Well, I…”

  “He’s a romantic, that’s all,” Jill said, taking pity on Charlie. “And maybe he did think Mr. Jegger and I might get together, but that’s not the important issue, really. Right, Charlie?”

  “Of course it’s not,” Bernie said. “But I can see why Charlie might pick up that idea, along with the other. You and Spence would make a fine-looking couple.”

  “But that’s strictly their business,” George said, looking ruddier than ever. “Strictly their business.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Jill said, “because this is what I’ve decided to do. My work will keep me here a few more days, and I’m willing to devote any spare time to this project. When the windows are finished, I will stay for a reasonable length of time and work full-time on the problem, for whatever that’s worth. Maybe it’ll be worth nothing, and whether we’ve solved the problem or not, I’ll have to leave.”

  “How long would that be, exactly?” Charlie asked.

  She looked him straight in the eye. “About ten days, maximum.”

  Charlie flinched. “But—”

  “Hey,” Robert said, warding off the protest, “that’s better than nothing. We might have this problem wrapped up by then.”

  “All right.” Charlie sighed. “Have you a moment to go tell Spencer the news before you return to your painting?”

  “I’m not sure he’ll be pleased to hear it. We didn’t part on very friendly terms.”

  “He’ll be glad,” Charlie said. “Please do drop by the store for a moment.”

  “Okay. Or rather, I will if you gentlemen are ready to set me loose. I feel a little like a hostage.”

  “I’m sorry if we strong-armed this through,” George said, moving his chair so Bernie could slide out of the booth. “But Charlie convinced us you were the one for the job, and we were determined to convince you.”

  “Which I guess we did,” Robert added with a satisfied smile.

  “You all made some good points,” Jill said, “but they weren’t the real clinchers for me.”

  “What was, pray tell?” Charlie asked.

  “The mother of the little boy who returned your corndog. You had your back turned when they left, but she walked out of here on crutches. I don’t know if she’ll be making enough purchases to buy a place on that trolley, but she shouldn’t have to. I’d like to help, if I can.”


  “Bravo, my dear,” Charlie said, beaming. “Bravo.”

  “Thank you, young lady,” Bernie said, shaking her hand. “We’ll be standing by. Just tell us what to do. We’re all poor typists, as we’ve said, but there must be some jobs we can accomplish.”

  “Mr. Jegger will probably let you know,” Jill said, also pausing to shake Robert’s and George’s hands.

  “Are you certain you won’t consider an extra week?” Charlie asked again.

  “Charlie, leave the poor woman alone,” Robert cautioned. “We’ll get the job done in the time she has, that’s all.”

  “I fear that I won’t,” Charlie said. “I mean, we won’t,” he amended hastily. “Even another five days would be helpful.”

  Jill gazed at him and smiled. “I have my goals, too, Charlie,” she said. “And I intend to achieve them. I’ll talk with you all soon.” Then she turned and left the restaurant.

  JEGGER’S OUTFITTERS was only a short distance from the food court. Carrying her case of paint supplies, Jill walked through the door and glanced around. Between the open shelves she could see Spence near the back of the store with a customer. He was explaining something about tents, judging from the way he gestured to various models set up in that area.

  Jill wondered how he’d react after their last heated conversation, and how he’d interpret her decision to stay an extra few days. She’d simply tell him that she’d decided to do it for the good of all, in the name of what was right and decent in the world. That was the truth, as far as it went, and he might believe her. Then again, he might notice the slight tremor of her hand, or the quickening of her breath when she was around him. If he noticed, he might guess that her motives weren’t as pure as she tried to convince herself they were.

  Her plan to leave in ten days meant she’d be gone before Valentine’s Day, which would tell him that she wasn’t catering to this nonsense about love and fate. But in reality Charlie’s predictions about love and marriage made her nervous. She’d run away from one commitment in Maine because she wasn’t ready. And she still wasn’t.

  She waited until Spence had helped the customer carry a large box to the checkout counter. There the young clerk, Horace, stood ready to ring up the tent purchase. When Spence started walking back to his office, she hurried forward and called his name.