Marriage of Convenience (4 page)

Gloria sat a little straighter. “OK. That doesn’t sound like a complete rejection of the plan. Where are you going with this?”

“I will plan one of the two dates, and she can plan the other. That way we both get an opportunity to share an interest and exercise some ownership over the process. I think it’s only fair.”

Gloria clasped her hands over her mouth to hide her smile, but nothing could mute the screech that accompanied it. She leaped from her chair and threw her arms around Malcolm.

“I know this is all very sudden, and there is no way we could possibly understand the pressure you’re under, but we’re behind you every step of the way.” She stood on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek. “Where’s my phone?”

Malcolm met Denzel’s eyes as Gloria skipped from the room. He hoped that in a few days from now he felt her excitement instead of the dread that lingered in his chest.

“You’ve made her very happy. And as a recent recipient of her good mood, I have to say that you’d made me very happy as well.” Denzel gave Malcolm an exaggerated wink as he reached to refill their glasses.

“I hope I end up as happy as she is come Sunday.” Malcolm walked back to the island and slumped into the high-backed chair Gloria had vacated.

“It’s definitely a unique situation, but think about how often it happens these days. With internet dating, does anyone really spend the time and the effort they used to?”

“You two did.”

“That was years ago, man. Times have changed. Society has evolved. Expectations are different. Even if you don’t fall madly in love, you may just find a good match, a companion. People put too much emphasis on love anyway. You need a friend. You need a pal. Someone who isn’t going to care about your morning breath and your gray hair. Someone you can talk with, someone who will talk with you.”

Malcolm, glass half raised, stared at his best friend. “Do you need a tissue? You sound like a Hallmark card.”

“Man, take my word for it, endless passion is unrealistic and overrated.”

“Oh, really? You weren’t saying that three hours ago!” Gloria stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her face showing the hurt her husband’s words had obviously created.

“Baby, please!” Denzel held out his hand to her. “You know I’m not talking about us! We’re different. We’re special! Nobody can have what we have.”

“Uh, huh.” Gloria’s tone indicated doubt, but she stepped into the kitchen and into his arms just the same. “You better not be talking about us.” She bent down to accept her husband’s kiss.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but if we could return to the business at hand, so I don’t have to join you two in this affair, I’d appreciate it.”

Her lips still touching Denzel’s, Gloria held out a square of paper. Malcolm regarded it, but didn’t take it. His love life fit on a sticky note. Convenient, but sad.

“May I speak with Tatum, please?” Malcolm paced the balcony of his penthouse as he waited through the brief silence. Though he’d returned from Connecticut last night, he had decided to wait until the late morning to call. He knew he was stalling, but he couldn’t force himself to pick up the phone.

“This is she. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Tatum. This is Malcolm Fowlkes. I’m a friend of Gloria’s.” The introduction sounded weak. He’d been on pins and needs all day practicing what he’d say to his wife-to-be, but everything had sounded silly. “Hi, I’m Malcolm. We don’t really know each other, but you come highly recommended. Will you marry me?” No. “Hi. You’re hot. Let’s get hitched.” He’d actually read that one somewhere. “I understand you come from good stock. We were made for each other.” Perhaps if he were buying a thoroughbred. In the end, he’d opted for straightforward.

“Hello! I can’t believe you’re actually calling! I thought Gloria was kidding. Can I tell you how excited I am about this? Are you busy tonight?”

Relieved, Malcolm stopped pacing and smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as awkward as he’d feared. “Uh, well, I was calling to see if you’re available later today. I know this is a unique situation I’m in, and the timing isn’t ideal, but I thought if you were free we could spend the day together and maybe have dinner?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to! I have several appointments this morning, but my afternoon is wide open. Where should we meet?”

Appointments were good. He wanted his wife to have interests, even employment, if she wanted. He thought it would be healthy for her to have a life separate from what they shared together.

“How about lunch at Serendipity? Noon?”

“Cute. But a little far uptown, don’t you think? No, fine, it’s fine. What should I wear?”

Caught off guard, Malcolm hesitated. He hadn’t considered his wardrobe, much less hers. Did it matter? He couldn’t think why, but if it meant getting off on the right foot he could come up with something.

“A skirt and shirt in case we do something afterward and don’t have time to change?” His brow furrowed, and his face twisted into a look of thoughtfulness as he tried to imagine what a woman might say.

“A top. Women wear tops or blouses, not shirts, dear. But your overall plan sounds good. Don’t be late. It’s a pet peeve of mine.” Without a goodbye, the line went dead.

Odd. Determined to stick with first impressions, Malcolm entered the French doors off his bedroom, hesitated only briefly in front of his closet as the conversation replayed in his mind. Puzzled, but not completely turned off, he entered the bathroom off the master suite and turned on the shower.

He studied his reflection in the mirror as the steam fogged the outer edges. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but he knew he was attractive. He didn’t work out but enjoyed swimming and running when he had the time, though time wasn’t something he had in excess. He didn’t have a clue what Tatum looked like, but her voice led him to believe she was playful and lighthearted. His mind created a body to go with the voice, and he soon found he needed a cold shower. Turning the knobs, he stepped into the shower and allowed the water to return him to reality. He needed to have his wits about him if he was going to make the right decision.

“You smell good. Do you have a date or something?” Betty’s question was obviously meant to be teasing, but the morning consultations hadn’t done anything to ease Malcolm’s nervousness over the approaching afternoon luncheon; and he couldn’t return her easy smile.

“Sorry, Doc, didn’t meant to pry. But we’ve been together going on six years, and you’ve never worn cologne.”

Hadn’t he? His brow creased as he tried to remember the last time he’d made an effort to attract a woman. Her comment would explain why the cologne bottle had been full.

“It’s no problem, Betty. Is it warm in here? I think I need some air.” Malcolm had intended to enter some reports on the morning’s patients, but the idea of being closed up in his office wasn’t appealing. He walked back around Betty’s desk and headed for the elevator.

“Will you be back before lunch?” She was forced to ask her question to his back. His head down, determination in his stride, and a rushing sound in his ears, Malcolm didn’t respond or look back.

On the street, he breathed deeply. Blocking the automatic doors into the hospital vestibule, he was jolted to reality when a couple, a very pregnant women being manhandled by her husband, swept passed him, huffing and puffing.

It was 11:00 a.m. The restaurant was roughly fifteen blocks away. He could walk to the restaurant and with time to spare. He could remind himself on the walk of what was at stake. He could practice explaining his list of non-negotiables. Cursing his father once again, he turned south and began walking.

Malcolm chose a table by the window. He enjoyed people watching and thought something to distract his brain might be in order should things go downhill. The restaurant had been a local favorite for more than 50 years, and Malcolm had been there a number of times with Denzel, Gloria, and their kids. Known for its foot-long hot dogs and frozen hot chocolate, the restaurant’s fare was tasty if a little overpriced. Marilyn Monroe and Jackie O had called the place a favorite. Malcolm hoped he enjoyed the company as much as he did the food.

A commotion at the door drew the patrons’ attention. With his back to the door, Malcolm watched their mouths gape as the drama unfolded. Almost subconsciously, a few women placed their hands on that of their neighbor as if to say, “Are you seeing this?” The voices became louder, one determined and the other plaintive, nearly reaching hysterics.

“It’s just a bag. I can’t leave it in the street. Are you crazy?”

“Miss, we have a policy against strollers, carriages, and bicycles. This information is posted on the placard outside and on our website. We simply don’t have the space.”

“It’s a bag!”

“I’m sorry, it’s on wheels. You’ll have to leave it outside.”

“Don’t make me call the cops! You can’t do this. What if it gets stolen? You know how people around here are.”

“Lady, call the cops. It’s a reasonable request. You don’t think we haven’t been round and round about this with others? You’ll lose.” The maitre d’ stood his ground, arms folded across his chest. He was blocking the entrance into the seating area, but the woman and her bag were still in full view of those already occupying the dining room. The entire restaurant had come to a stand-still. Waitresses stood with trays balanced precariously above their heads. Diners held forks in mid-air, clearly mesmerized by the sight. The woman’s hair, once tightly pulled back, had become frayed around the edges. Frizzy blonde wisps flounced around wildly as the woman gesticulated her outrage. The manager rushed to the scene and exchanged quiet conversation with the maitre d’.

“I’m sorry, but he’s right. It’s too large. It would never fit down the aisle. You can see that. You must live nearby. Come back once you’ve returned it. We’d be happy to seat you then.”

Dressed in a pencil skirt, high collared button down, and stilettos, the woman towered over the manager. “I don’t live nearby, hence the large bag carrying all the things I’ll need for this evening and tonight. I have a date.” She tossed her head, emphasizing the importance of her message. “You’re making a scene. I hope he’s not here to see this. He’s really important, and you’ll regret you made me upset. And this wait has been unforgivable.” She raised her hands to soothe her unruly hair. “Don’t you know who I am? Who my friends are? You can’t treat me this way!” The woman ran her hands down her skirt and plucked at the thin cotton of her sweat-soaked shirt apparently trying to cool her heated skin. “Uuggh! And now I’m a mess!”

“Lady, I get the feeling you were born that way.” The maitre d’ excused himself, and the manager tried to interpret his parting words in a positive light.

“You mentioned you had a date. Is the young man already seated? Perhaps we can get you settled while we remove the bag?”

Red with outrage, the woman scanned the room. “I see him. And the bag stays.”

“Malcolm, darling, please come see me. These people are being ridiculous.” She held out her hand, bracelets jangling along her arm, motioning him to her. Her lips held a pout, and she cast her eyes downward in an expression of sadness. “I wouldn’t have been late, except for these men and their ridiculous rule.”

Malcolm had exercised enough self control not to turn to around until he’d heard stomping. He’d turned just in time to see the maitre d’ march to the kitchen. In doing so, he’d made himself known to the woman.

Against all his silent prayers, Malcolm had come to the conclusion that this woman was his date. He didn’t know her. And he didn’t recognize her as a previous patient. But she knew him. This was his…. He couldn’t finish the thought.

He stood slowly. With all eyes on him, he silently approached the woman and the manager. Placing himself between the two of them, he addressed the woman.

“Tatum, I presume.”

“Darling, you look wonderful. So did I, until this man insisted on upsetting me. If you could straighten this misunderstanding out, we can have lunch and get on with things.”

What did she expect him to do? And why was she pulling around a shopping cart?

Malcolm took her by the hand. Tucking it into the crook of his arm, he turned her toward the door. With his other hand he took hold of the cart’s handle and pulled the offending cart out behind him. Once on the street, Tatum turned to face him, a puzzled look on her face.

“You’re not hungry? I told you this place was an odd choice. And the service was positively rude. I don’t blame you for wanting to go somewhere else. How about Elaine’s? I know lots of people there.”

Malcolm couldn’t look at her. Was she kidding? He looked up and down the street to keep from having to look at her. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want to be rude, and his mother used to say that if he didn’t have anything good to say he shouldn’t say anything.

“Hail us a cab, won’t you? You’ll love Elaine’s.” She took the handle from him. Pulling her bag behind her, Tatum walked to the curb, cutting off several pedestrians en route up the sidewalk. “Will you please watch where you’re going?” she cried out to no one in particular.

Standing beside her waiting for the taxi to come to a stop, Malcolm tried to rein in his growing anger. When the taxi stopped she stepped aside so that he could open the door for her. He did so without a word. She climbed in, leaving her bag on the sidewalk. Malcolm picked up the bag and set it on the seat beside her and climbed in beside it.

To be fair to Gloria and to himself, he had to make a go of it. He’d offered lunch, and so he thought Serendipity counted as his first attempt. Strike one.

“I’m glad you were able to make it. Do you work far from here?”

“I work wherever the work takes me. I’m in commercials.”

“Anything I’d have seen?”

Tatum explained her latest work. Malcolm shook his head, and she seemed disappointed.

“I don’t watch much television.”

Tatum looked surprised. “Then what do you do?”

“I guess my passion, aside from my work, is reading. Or hiking, biking, traveling. It’s hard to choose a favorite. Do you like to travel?”