by Vicki Batman
A light flared in his eyes.
Good ol’ Dad and his cookie sweet tooth. He’d taught us how to dip cookies in milk perfectly, and as a result, baked goods were sucked up at our house at warp speed, like a new-fangled vacuum cleaner.
“I’d like some. Mother isn’t making them lately. She’s on another—”
“Diet,” we said together, then chuckled.
“Oops,” I said after a quick glance at my watch, “I have to get beautiful for a date.”
“Date?” He frowned.
“It’s no biggie. Just with Allan Wellborn.”
“Allan, huh. Your mom really likes him.”
“Don’t I know it.” I gave him a sideways slant. “What about you?”
His fingers stroked his chin while he thought. “He’d be an ideal son-in-law.”
“Dad!” I climbed in my car. Waving, I drove away and noticed his frown had returned. Perhaps, all dads disliked hearing about their darling daughters’ romantic lives.
Chapter Thirteen
As teenagers interested in beauty stuff, my sister and I’d created The Overhaul.
The Overhaul involved a long bath or shower and shaving the legs and underarms with care. Afterwards, we rubbed on lotion, brushed a peel-off mask on our faces, and thoroughly moisturized. We plucked eyebrows and attacked the dreaded zits. The finished “overhaul” made a huge improvement in conquering “the uglies.”
My sister had nicknamed me Ugly.
Now, my unique ritual included a nap. With one, I could party-hearty longer. Mom would be happy to know I didn’t yawn in my date’s face, thus not embarrassing myself.
My bedside clock read three. Plenty of time to prepare. After shaving, I soaked in a delicious, delectable bubble bath. After a brisk drying, I rubbed lotion over my body. The zits were corralled, and all was pronounced beautiful.
I put on underwear and an oversized t-shirt emblazoned with “Every Night I go to Bed with a Good Woman—Me!” I must have been overly tired because I woke at six, according to the alarm clock. I’d overslept. Definitely not great. I had to hurry with no time to be super picky over makeup and hair.
I puffed on Chanel No.5 scented powder. I touched the back of my neck with a drop of the same scent from a miniature bottle, a giveaway from the cosmetic department at Tuckers. I’d stashed three other bottles in a drawer for future use.
Sitting at the vanity, I turned on the makeup mirror and began working. After a thorough examination, I found nothing I could do anything about without extensive plastic surgery.
I brushed on black mascara and smoothed on a pale beige foundation. Swiping on two shades of brown eye shadow, I went for a slightly more dramatic look. A dark rose blush highlighted my cheeks. I finished with a dusting of face powder and Dazzling Bordeaux lipstick.
Pursuing beauty seems to be a crap shoot. While turning my head aside to examine my efforts, I had to admit, this time the results looked impressive.
Hair next. Using the curling iron, I rolled a small section, continuing this process over my whole head. I picked and bounced the curls into the style I aimed to achieve, examining for any needed re-curling.
I stared at my reflection and determined the hairdo worked and glued everything with super freezey hairspray. Sure, this seemed like a lot of spray, but I didn’t like to re-comb my hair. Besides, combs didn’t fit well in small handbags.
Next, I examined the little black dress for wrinkles. Usually, I ironed my clothing before storing them in my closet. I didn’t have to figure out what to wear or make a hasty change in the morning as I wasn’t known for coordinating well in a semi-awake state. Anyway, ironing saved me an extra step and a headache.
I had an outrageous theory television had been invented for ironing. Hours quickly passed while watching old movies like The Thin Man or the bygone dramas of Bonanza, M*A*S*H, et cetera. The addition of satellite brought a wide selection of food, craft, and decorating shows.
Fortunately, my dress looked wrinkle-free. I slipped on the garment and slid my feet into the heels with the black bows. I fastened the pearl earrings Mom and Dad had given me for high school graduation. After clasping the matching bracelet around my wrist, I studied my reflection in the mirror. The jewelry accessorized the little black dress with a sophisticated, yet sexy, look à la Audrey Hepburn, and perhaps…hopefully…an irresistible one?
At ten ’til seven, gowned in her short black confection, Jenny popped in my room. “My date’s here. Are you ready?”
“Almost. You look amazing.”
She gave me a pearly grin. “So do you.”
I turned around. “Can you zip me?”
“Sure.” The zipper rasped as she pulled it up. “No Allan?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, give him a few. If he doesn’t show, I’ll be waiting at the party.” Jenny gave me a light touch on the back after hooking the bow.
She was fabulous at boosting my confidence. “I’ll see you there.” As the front door open, I heard a Wow and Thanks, soft laughter, and the shump of the door closing.
I wandered through the apartment, pausing by the sound system to adjust the iPod to Adele. How I wished I could sing like her. Her voice sounded spellbinding. I pushed a button and changed to Diana Krall. “The Look of Love” crooned on in her deep, sultry voice. I wished I could sing like her, too. My attempt sounded lame.
The clock read seven-o-five. What did I expect? I hadn’t heard a word, and it was time to go. Retrieving my handbag and sheer scarf embroidered with colorful polka dots off the sofa, I walked to the door, taking great pains to avoid tottering. I checked my appearance in the mirror one final time.
At the moment I turned the knob, a faint knock made me jump. Opening the door, I found A. Wellborn. OhmyGod. I sighed, yet my heart pounded harder. God shouldn’t have created such a handsome man. Good would have been an understatement. Somehow, I managed to snap shut my gaping mouth.
“Hi.” He smiled, looking even taller, leaner, and not meaner. His bright, white shirt enhanced his tanned face. A pale blue and yellow-striped tie and a dark blue suit pulled together his look.
I never understood why some men hated wearing a suit and tie. In my opinion, they were utterly irresistible. I couldn’t take my gaze off him. With a quaky hand, I tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. My heart thumped so hard, I heard it. “Umm, do you want to come in?”
“I think I’m late.” Stepping inside, Allan glanced around the room, his gaze resting on my face. “You looked surprised to see me.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
He frowned. “Didn’t you get my message?”
He’d called? I frowned. “What message?”
“The voice mail I left on your phone.”
Crap. My gaze flitted toward my handbag. Had I given him the correct number when I’d called him? Who knew? I’d been so nervous and busy with work and the tire changing.
I patted his sleeve. “It’s okay. I’ll check later. We should go.” Besides, my legs felt like Jell-O and needed to move quickly before my body slid to the floor in a puddle.
He allowed me to pass first. I locked the door behind us. I stared at him in wonder as his hand looped with my arm to escort me to his truck. “Thanks.”
“Last Saturday, you tripped and hopped around like a baby chick. I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself on my watch.”
“I’m fine. Thanks—” I froze. Now I get it. After finding his surprise gift, he undoubtedly hung around and saw the jumping and the subsequent sore ankle results. “You were watching me when I found the bag you left at my door.”
Obviously amused, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yep. Had to make sure no candy thieves were on the loose.”
I didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it, and no matter what could be said, I’d still felt, and maybe even looked, like a dummy. We resumed our short walk to the truck where A. Wellborn helped me inside. While I fastened my seatbelt, he slid in on the driver’s side.
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As we drove off, he asked, “Where to?”
I gave him the printed-out directions to the party. Quietly, the truck hummed along as he paid attention to the road, while I tried not to pay attention to him. But I didn’t succeed. This was not the Allan Wellborn I knew. He was a…stranger.
Say you met an old friend, like one at a high school reunion. A lot of time had passed. You tried to find a familiarity to determine if this person really was the one you remembered. A laugh, a curve of a smile, a gesture…anything.
This was where I found myself.
I knew his family well, knew what they stood for, their values, and how they treated me as one of their own. I knew all about them—the voices, body shapes, and family dynamics. Gone was Sarah Anne’s big brother. Gone was the shy, geeky boy. Dressed in a suit, he looked handsome, smart and direct, more expressive, and confident.
I knew A. Wellborn. The familiar heat from a blush reached my cheeks. Sorta.
I turned to stare out the window to hide. God, I hope he can’t hear my thoughts.
My attention shifted to the elaborate invitation my shaky hands folded and unfolded. Friendships effortlessly flourished in Sommerville. My boss at Tuckers had become good friends with some of mine and vice versa. We met for happy hours, dinners, parties, movies, and ball games. His parents had piles of money and a big house where tonight’s party was being held. The invitation said a buffet-styled dinner and champagne would be served. The rooms would be extravagantly decorated with flowers and dancing would follow on the patio. Guaranteed to be a swanky event and my friend’s announcement of his engagement was worthy of it.
A. Wellborn and I drove along the boulevard in a historic neighborhood where the homes, nestled amongst towering oak and elm trees, looked majestic. The dwellings weren’t just sizeable, they were massive and noted for a unique, craftsman style. The branches of the trees lining the street touched, creating a canopy.
At one time, the neighborhood had slid into decline. The old mansions had been bought cheaply by dual-income couples who transformed them into their original splendor through lots of sweat equity with up-to-date amenities. As a result, the neighborhood had regained its popularity.
Driving through this area at Christmas never failed to lift my spirits. The festive lights and elaborate decorations lit a warm glow deep inside me. One winter, a rare snow fell late in the afternoon, covering the street and homes in a deep layer. As early evening approached, the vintage street lights came on. I had the indescribable pleasure of being the first to drive along the picture postcard street.
A. Wellborn nodded to his right. “This must be it. Look at all the cars.”
“Looks right to me.” I checked the address on the invitation and pointed ahead of us. “The valet is at the end of the driveway.”
We pulled alongside the stand. A young man approached the truck, politely assisted me in exiting.
Once again, A. Wellborn tucked my arm with his and escorted me to the front door as the valet drove the truck away to park it. He smiled at my inquiring look, making my face flame. Is he issuing me an invitation to...?
We rang the door bell and were greeted by the happy couple and their parents. A waiter with a tray balanced on his fingertips stopped, and we took glasses of chilled champagne.
I discovered A. Wellborn to be an excellent engagement party date. He made pleasant conversation with everyone he encountered. Behind his back, my friends whispered discreet comments, “When did you meet?” and “How long have you been seeing each other?” and “If...”
I had no answers for the friendly, but prying, examinations. Instead, I made agreeable noises and waved them on their way.
After locating places to sit at a table with Jenny and her date, we filled our plates at the buffet. The main entrée, an appetizing chicken and shrimp concoction, had been covered in a creamy rosemary sauce. Sautéed vegetables for the side. A salad of wild greens, apples, and dried cranberries with citrus dressing, and an assortment of dinner rolls accompanied. With full dishes in hand, A. Wellborn and I wove our way to our table. He nodded a hello to Jenny and a nice to meet you to her date.
Jenny’s friend wouldn’t break any mirrors with his va-va-va voom looks.
Since I’d finished the first glass of wine, I took another. I was an easy drunk and two glasses weren’t the prudent thing to do. Oh well. Maybe it’ll help me relax. I took another sip.
“You were surprised to see me tonight,” A. Wellborn said this in a silky low voice.
His breath ruffled the hair around my ear. Terrified to look his way, I bobbed my head. “Yes, surprised.” Another drink of bubbly, and the wine boosted my courage. “I’m sorry I missed your call.”
I had a difficult time concentrating on eating, and instead, moved the delectable chicken and shrimp around my plate. At last, I speared a piece of oak leaf lettuce. “I threw the invitation at you at the last minute, and it was okay if you didn’t want to attend a party for people you don’t know. Perfectly understandable.”
“My bad. I should have called again. My only excuse is running short on time. An inadequate apology. I wanted to come because it seemed important to you.”
Oh my. Our gazes locked, bonded. I said from my heart, “I wanted to be with you.”
“I wanted to be with you, too.” We stared at each other for an indeterminable amount of time, taking in our deepest admission. Finally, a passing waiter broke our connection.
A. Wellborn manipulated his knife into a straight line and cut. “Some of your friends look familiar. Your roommate, Jenny, and those two girls over there...”
I squinted in the direction he’d indicated with a nod and found Kella and Maggie, waving. He did a little fork wave. They smiled and began whispering behind their hands.
Not trusting anything they would do, I gave them the evil-eye squint. I said, “You might remember them from high school. They’re my best girlfriends.”
“Now I do. Married?”
“Maggie is. Kellar isn’t.”
“Kellar? Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“A nickname. Her mother calls her Kella. We also call her Killer.”
“Killer…She isn’t a hitman-girl, is she?”
“No.” I smiled. “Killer ’cause she came over one day and found drinking glasses turned upside down on the carpet in the living area to suffocate roaches.” Jenny and I had found a humane solution for bug extermination—no spraying or nasty noise or body parts or bug juice.
He chuckled. “Most people squash bugs.”
“It’s not funny. I can’t do that. Bug guts everywhere.”
“Sorry.”
“Kellar took off her shoe, picked up the glasses, and smashed the bugs. Now, we call her Killer, although Exterminator was an alternative choice.”
“You’re not into killing bugs.”
“Suffocating isn’t noisy.”
He stared at me like I’d just made a fast run from Jupiter.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Women.”
As an extraordinary quiet covered the room, I took a glance around and found hundreds—maybe I exaggerated—of eyes focused on A. Wellborn and me as if we were on stage. I glared the give us some privacy look right back. My friends really needed to find a life of their own.
Leaning into me, his arm grazed the side of my breast, sending a humming through my limbs. His very essence caused my senses to do a float and hover dance.
He said, “Have I mentioned you look stunning in black?”
Wow. I flushed and checked myself for spills. “You like it?”
“Like is not the word. Later, I’ll show you the right word.” His finger stroked my hair in his recognizable way—from temple to the tip. My body flamed hot. A rush coursed to my toes, and my breath evaporated. Inhale. Exhale. He certainly knew how to push my buttons. Inhale. Exhale. I swore to God I was delirious, about to faint at anticipation of what he would show me later. I choked.
He patted my back. “Are you okay?
”
“Water.” I took the glass he offered and drank deeply. “Thanks. Must have eaten something weird.” God, I am such a pathetic liar.
With its own momentum, my head turned, and my gaze rested on him as he continued to dine. I didn’t know what to think and stared, idly twirling my fork on my plate like filling it with imaginary spaghetti. I’d experienced strong attraction feelings for other men I’d dated. I’d had intimate relationships with some of them. Those had begun in the normal dating game way. We’d met at parties, through friends, and sometimes, on blind dates. After a while, everything was over. A girl knew whether or not to continue seeing someone.
My relationship with A. Wellborn had started off differently from any other. The unsettling feelings I had for him were scaring me. An alien inhabited my body. A strong hold played with my brain. My body grew shimmery everywhere. And I felt at loose ends, swinging between wanting to grab him and wanting to run. Concentrate. Focus.
Every girl always wonders if this is it, if this is the one. And we’d speculate what life would be like with one person to share everything, a best friend we married. I would be foolish to admit right now I had those very same thoughts.
Honestly? I did.
As much as I wanted to, staring at him throughout the party would look foolish. We needed to have some semblance of conversation. I searched my brain and found we could talk about his lack of appearance at traffic court.
Reaching for a third flute of champagne, I cleared my throat. “Why didn’t you make a show in court the other day? As the elevator doors closed, I saw you standing outside the courtroom. Why did you do that?”
“Hattie.”
My name sounded musical when he said it slow and deep and caused my bones to melt. I gawked at him with adoration.
His face softened. “I ran late. When I’d told the clerk what was going on, he said fine and would consult with Judge Miller who said we could reschedule. I really thought I could make it. I hated to miss, but had no other choice. Is there a problem?”
His words sank deep within me, slightly intimating I’d never come first. I laid on heavy guilt, but in a nice way. “You should know Opal’s scolding me about missing work...again.”