Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3) (5 page)

“No, he doesn’t. So do you like him enough to keep dating him, or do you want to see who else is out there?”

“I like him. I think I’d like to keep dating him, for a while, at least. It’s not like I’m committing to marrying him. I can spend more time with him, see how it goes.”

Once she made the decision, Aimee felt surprisingly optimistic about it. She wasn’t sure Frank would turn out to be the love of her life, but spending time with a man who was so thoroughly unpretentious, someone who made her feel like the sophisticated one, would be a nice change.

“What about you? Are you sticking with Josiah?” she asked.

Charlene shook her head. “He’s a great guy, but there’s no romance there. We both agreed we need another match. I think Edwina put us together as supporting cast for you and Frank.”

“Then your next match should be all about you. Hopefully it’ll be Mr. Right.”

“Maybe.”

Charlene began tidying up the slips of paper they’d used during their game. She picked up the paper Josiah had read. “‘I’m afraid I won’t ever get married, because I won’t ever find someone who really loves me.’ Truth, Charlene. But I didn’t write it.”

“I didn’t either,” Aimee said.

“So it was one of the guys. I wonder which?”

“My guess would be Frank.”

“Mine too. It takes guts for a guy to be that vulnerable.”

“Yes, it does.”

And it made Aimee feel more certain than ever in her decision. Frank was a good man. Her mother would approve. Although didn’t his final comment to her indicate he thought she might have written that slip, which would mean he didn’t? She shrugged. It didn’t really matter.

As she drove back to her apartment, she wished she could go ahead and tell Edwina her decision. Monday was a long way off, and she wanted to let Edwina know what a good job she’d done in matchmaking. Frank was definitely a prospect and maybe even her future husband. A month ago, she’d never have been able to picture marrying anyone but Tom. Now, even though thoughts of marriage were still premature, she could at least consider the possibility that it might be in her future, that her husband might be Frank or another match she hadn’t met yet.

“I
do
think I’ll get married, because I
will
find someone who really loves me,” she said aloud as she drove along the loop towards her apartment. “Truth. Aimee.”

“Come in, have a seat,” Edwina invited.

Aimee sank into the mauve leather chair across from Edwina’s desk. Today the older woman was dressed in a neat gray skirt with a pink starched blouse, and her hair was arranged in a knot on top of her head. She matched the illustration of a kindly schoolteacher Aimee had seen in a book she’d read as a child.

“How did your dates with Frank go?”

“Good, I think.” She waited for Edwina to ask, and when she didn’t, she added, “I’ve decided I’d like to move on to the second phase with Frank!”

Edwina set down the pen she was holding and regarded Aimee with an expression of sympathy. “I’m glad to hear you were satisfied with your date, but unfortunately, I have to tell you Frank has asked for another match.”

“He has?”

For some reason, Aimee hadn’t even considered the possibility. She’d shown Frank she could cook. She’d proven she was a world traveler, sophisticated and cultured enough not to embarrass him. What went wrong?

“I have some feedback on the dates, if you’d like to hear?”

No. She would not like to hear. But with Edwina watching with her kind blue eyes, Aimee nodded. She would prove she was a mature, rational adult who could handle a little criticism.
I won’t cry
, she promised herself. No matter what he said.

Edwina picked up a notepad. “Frank notes that he enjoyed the barn date dance very much. You were willing to participate in an unfamiliar activity, and you seemed to enjoy it. You had a good conversation, and at the end of the date, Frank was optimistic about the match. But on the second date, he says you cooked an excellent meal, which he appreciated, but he became aware of differences in your lifestyles and tastes.”

“Differences in lifestyles and tastes?” Aimee frowned. “What does that mean?”

Edwina set down the paper. “He feels that he can’t keep up with the travel and fine dining that you’re accustomed to, and he doesn’t want to try. He said you were too glamorous for him. He’s looking for someone more wholesome.”

Glamorous? No one had ever used that adjective to describe her, and for a second, Aimee felt flattered. But then she remembered the word was used as part of a rejection, and her shoulders slumped. “Basically, he didn’t like me enough.”

She was never enough. Never pious enough for her mother, or smart enough at school, or pretty enough to get a boyfriend. Never polished enough for Tom. And now, not wholesome enough for Frank?

“I’m sorry,” Edwina said. “I know it’s hard to hear, but I believe the feedback can help our clients improve their dating presentation.”

Aimee heard the words, but she could hardly understand them. Her cheeks were red, and she was fighting to keep from crying. “Okay, thanks.”

“I can have another match set up for you this weekend?” Edwina offered.

“No, thanks. Maybe later.”

Edwina talked some more, but Aimee was so focused on getting out of the office without crying that she didn’t attempt to listen. She just nodded, promised to call A Time for Love when she was ready for her next match, and escaped as soon as she could. Once she was in her car, she broke down. She slumped over her steering wheel and cried.

She’d spent her childhood trying to please her mother, and her adult life so far trying to please Tom. She’d never succeeded in either. Now she couldn’t even get a date with a yokel farm boy, or whatever Frank did in real life. She had an apartment she couldn’t afford, a roommate she didn’t know, and a job that bored her. She’d given up her dream of owning her own business when Tom had bailed out of their catering company, and she had no prospects for improving her life anytime soon.

A group of business men and women were coming out of the office building, so Aimee hastily dried her tears and started the car. She ought to go to work, but she felt like she couldn’t function normally in the kitchen today. She left a message on her boss’s answering machine that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be in. She looped around the city expressway, trying to decide what to do. Her mother wouldn’t understand. Dana was on an extended honeymoon. Tish would come, but Aimee didn’t think she could stand being around someone who was glowing with happiness from her perfect romance with perfect Dr. Lucas.

Charlene would probably be busy, but she was the only one who might understand. Aimee called her and, when Charlene didn’t answer, left a voicemail message.

“I know you’re probably in court or doing something terribly important and lawyerish, but I’m taking the day off. I just need to get away, do some thinking. I’m heading to Castlewood. If you want to come, let me know. Thanks.”

Castlewood was a state park only a fifteen-minute drive from Aimee’s apartment. She hadn’t been in years, but she used to love walking the trails. In college, she’d often gone to the park when she need some time alone to think or just to relax, and now she suddenly felt the need for the fresh air and open spaces.

On a weekday morning, the park wasn’t crowded, and Aimee headed for a trail that would lead her up to the bluffs that overlooked the Meramec River. She walked at a leisurely pace but still found herself out of breath. She stopped to rest on a bench and realized she had a text from Charlene.

“Just parked. Where are you?”

Aimee texted back. She stayed on the bench and watched the slow flow of the river. She’d always liked this park. When she was little, her father had sometimes brought her here for a nature walk on a weekend afternoon. Her last and probably her fondest clear memory of him was here. He’d had some type of disagreement with her mother, “grownup talk,” they called it, and he’d taken Aimee and left the house. They’d walked for what seemed like hours before they found a bench to rest. Aimee hadn’t known what to say to him. She’d had her favorite stuffed animal with her, a plush bear in an unlikely shade of purple. She’d cried when she tripped over a tree root and dropped it in the dirt. Her father had helped her up and carefully brushed off every speck of dirt and leaves. Then he’d given her bear a thorough checkup before pronouncing it unharmed and handing it back to her.

“Don’t ever be afraid of a little dirt, Aimee,” he’d told her. “If you fall down, just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going.”

Aimee felt grubby now. She regretted ever setting foot in A Time for Love, and she wished she could travel back in time and undo her relationship with Tom. She’d like to return to when she’d been an innocent girl, absorbing everything her father said, cherishing time with him as a break from the tensions in the household. He’d been killed in a car wreck only a month or so later, and afterwards, Aimee often replayed her memory of their last hike together.

Sometimes the memory made her cry, but today, she felt like she had no tears left. She was completely empty, and she just sat waiting, hoping that Charlene would show up and rescue her from her own misery. An elderly couple and a group of college students passed her, but no one disturbed her until she finally saw Charlene.

Her friend was wearing one of the power suits she typically wore to work, but she had changed out of her usual pumps into sturdy athletic shoes, and she marched along the path with brisk steps. When she saw Aimee, she changed direction and sat beside her on the bench.

“What’s wrong, Aimee?”

“Everything.” Aimee knew the statement was too dramatic, but she couldn’t help it. “My job. Tom. My whole life. I used to come here with my dad, back when everything seemed possible. I loved the view and the river, and I thought I’d bring my daughter here someday. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever have one.”

The words came pouring out. Charlene scooted closer and draped one arm over Aimee’s shoulder. The gesture was a rare demonstration of affection, and it started the tears Aimee hadn’t been able to cry.

“I feel like such an idiot. Everyone knew my relationship with Tom wasn’t working.
I
knew it wasn’t working. But I couldn’t let go of it. I just kept giving more and more to try to keep it going. I gave up the catering business. I changed the way I dressed. We went to restaurants Tom liked, with people he wanted to impress. Whenever I thought about breaking up with him, he’d promise me that he was almost ready to get married. Almost, but never quite there. I believed Tom was the man God had chosen for me, and I just needed to wait for things to work out. Now I can’t believe I was such a pushover.”

Charlene handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes.

“And now, if I ever want a husband and family of my own, I have to date again, and I’m hopeless at it. Frank doesn’t want to see me again,” she hiccupped.

“I’m so sorry.” Charlene hugged her, and they sat in silence until Aimee’s tears stopped. “Tell me what happened.”

Aimee described her meeting with Edwina, and Charlene murmured sympathetically. “I don’t understand it,” Aimee finished. “I thought I’d shown him I was a date he could be proud of. I don’t understand why he asked for another match.”

“It’s just one guy. He’s the first man you’ve dated since Tom. You’ll meet someone else.”

“Not as nice as Frank. And if I can’t get him to like me, how can I think someone else would?”

Charlene pulled away and looked Aimee in the eyes. “I’m not as good at this girl-to-girl talk as Tish is, so just tell me: do you want best friend sympathy or my honest opinion about what went wrong?”

Aimee blinked tear-wet eyes at her. For a moment, she was tempted to say sympathy. She wasn’t sure she could handle another round of criticism, however well-intentioned. But she’d spent long enough hiding from not-so-pleasant realities. Surely she could handle a dose of the truth?

“Your honest opinion,” she said. “But gently, please. I’m feeling pretty fragile at the moment.”

“Okay. You said that Frank thought you might be a match after the first date, so the problem occurred with the second one. When Frank came here, you felt like you needed to impress him. I think you staged the date and acted the way you thought you needed to. And it would’ve worked, if Frank had been more like Tom. But he isn’t. I don’t think our hunky farm boy cares if you’ve been to Europe or can make a perfect cappuccino or know the difference between the various types of caviar. He just wanted to get to know
you
.”

Charlene’s words stabbed Aimee’s already wounded ego. She turned away from her friend and stared down at the river, while fresh tears trickled down her face. Charlene patted her arm and waited.

“I’m sorry,” Charlene said finally. “Forget I said anything. You’re a great person, and if Frank can’t recognize that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks for the best friend sympathy,” Aimee sniffled. “But I needed the truth. You’re right. I’ve got to stop letting Tom influence the way I think or behave.”

“Maybe you’re not ready to date yet?” Charlene suggested.

Aimee thought for a moment. “I am. Actually, I’ve been getting over Tom for months, ever since he first left town without me. When he took a job in Colorado and said he didn’t want me to go with him, I thought I couldn’t make it without him, but I did. And yes, I was stupid enough to agree when he got the caretaking job and wanted me to join him. But when I was finally able to see he was just using me, and I left. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that if I hadn’t already had time apart from him. Time to see I could manage without him and to begin to realize how completely he had been running my life. Better late than never, right?”

“I agree. Learn from the situation, so you don’t make the same mistake again.”

“I don’t think Frank’s anything like Tom. Do you?” Aimee asked.

“From what I’ve seen, no,” Charlene confirmed. Aimee nodded thoughtfully, and when she didn’t speak, Charlene suggested, “Maybe you should try another match.”

A slight breeze stirred the strands of Aimee’s hair, and she brushed them away from her face. “I want to see Frank agan,” she said.

“But he’s getting another match.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a minute. “What are you going to do?” Charlene asked.

Aimee shrugged. “Maybe I’ll write him a note,” she said. “Explain what happened. I could send it to Edwina and ask her to pass it along to Frank if his second match doesn’t work out. If we’re meant to be, we will be.”

Charlene studied her for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll say a prayer for you.” She stood up. “Are you okay? I hate to say it, but I’ve got to get back to work. Lots of terribly important lawyerish things to do, you know.”

“Sorry! I’ve taken up too much of your time.” Aimee felt guilty at interrupting her friend’s day, especially for the type of emotional crisis someone as much in control of her life as Charlene couldn’t really understand.

“No, you haven’t,” Charlene told her firmly. “Call again if you need to. And let’s get together this weekend for a girls’ night, okay?”

Aimee nodded. “That’d be nice.”

Charlene headed back down the pathway, and Aimee stayed on the bench. She watched the flow of the water, the pattern of its movement, faster here, slower there, and then swirling in circles over a hidden rock. The talk with Charlene and the peaceful setting gradually helped to calm Aimee’s agitation. She didn’t know if she still had a chance with Frank or whether she could take the risk of asking for a second match. But she was lucky to have a friend who’d drop everything to come ease her out of a crisis. Maybe she wasn’t
totally
incompetent at life.