Promise Me (12 page)

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Nothing. So, are you coming or should I send the Disney Prince away?”

I hung the coat I was pressing on the rack. “I'll be right there.”

“Then I'll give you some space. Have fun.” Teresa ran off to the bathroom. I looked back through the glass. Matthew stood patiently, swaying a little to the lobby's music, the large blue vase clasped in his hands. I shook my head then walked out to the front. He smiled as I came through the door. “Hi, Beth.”

“Hi.” I put my hands on my hips. “I told you—”

“I brought you these,” he said, thrusting the flowers toward me. “I told you I wasn't going to give up.”

For a moment I just looked at them, unsure of what to do. Taking them was counter to what I had convinced myself was right, but when you've been on a diet sometimes you just have to have a little chocolate, if you know what I mean.
Besides
, I rationalized,
what kind of woman rejects a man offering her flowers?

“Thank you,” I said, taking the bouquet and setting it on the counter. “I love sunflowers.”

“I know.”

“How would you know that?”

“You just seem like the kind of woman who would. Roses are pretty but sunflowers have meaning.”

I looked at him quizzically. That was something I had often said to Charlotte.
Sunflowers look to the sun
, I told her.
They mean hope
.

“What do sunflowers mean?” I asked.

He looked at me and a knowing smile crossed his lips. “Hope.”

As I looked at him, I couldn't help but think how handsome he was. My eyes moved back and forth between him and the equally beautiful bouquet of flowers. Finally, I sighed. “What do you want?”

“Just one date. If you hate it, or me, I promise I'll leave you alone.”

“Okay,” I said.

His eyebrows rose with surprise. “Really?”

“Well you're not going to give up until I go out with you, are you?”

“No.”

“Then what choice do I have? One date. When?”

“When's good for you?”

“My babysitter is usually only available on weekends.”

“How about Friday?” he asked.

“This Friday?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Babysitter willing, Friday it is. What time?”

“Seven
P.M
.?”

“Friday, seven
P.M
. I'll plan on it.”

He smiled broadly. “Great.” He started to leave, then turned back. “I don't know your address.”

I pulled a sheet of paper from the order pad by the register and scribbled my address on the back. “It's the home with the blue door.” I handed it to him and he looked at it, then folded it up and shoved it in his pocket.

“See you then.”

I watched him leave, then I carried my flowers to the back. I was such a sucker for flowers. Always had been. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if I had done the right thing.

Roxanne was standing next to the press waiting for me. Teresa had alerted her to my caller, and the two of them had watched the exchange from behind the mirror. “Now I know why you didn't want to come over on New Year's.”

“What are you talking about?” I set the flowers down on the counter behind the press.

“You've been holding out on me, girl. I've been telling you to get back on the horse and you've been bronco busting all along.”

“Bronco busting?”

“I saw that man. Why didn't you tell me about him?”

“There was nothing to tell.”

“Nothing to tell? How long has it been going on?”

“We just met.” I went back to work, putting a coat on the press.

“Where?”

“At a 7-Eleven.”

“Wow, all I ever get there is Diet Coke. Who made the first move?”

“Who do you think?”

“What did he say?”

“If you must know—”

“I must,” she inserted.

“He head-butted me.”

“What?”

“It was an accident. I dropped my gum.”

“I don't care. A man that fine can head-butt me up Main and down State. So why aren't you acting thrilled about this?”

“Because
I'm not
thrilled about this. It doesn't feel right.”

“Because of Marc?”

“Yes, but it's more than that. I mean, look at this guy.”

“Yeah, I saw him. He's gorgeous. What's the problem?”

“Have you ever been sitting in the stands at a ball game and someone turns around and waves at you and you smile and start to wave back when you realize they're waving to someone behind you?”

“Yeah.”

“That's how I feel.”

Roxanne rested her hands on her hips. “Well, girl, look at those flowers. He's definitely waving at you.”

“It just doesn't feel right. He's younger, painfully handsome, and nice.”

“What a nightmare . . .”

“Come on, Rox, you have to admit that it
does
n't make sense.”

“No, you need to admit that it does. Why can't you just accept that someone might find you desirable?”

I frowned. “I don't know. Probably because I feel like damaged goods.” I went back to pressing. “Besides, my heart tells me not to trust it. It's the first rule of love and money—if it sounds too good to be true, it is.”

“You're too cynical.”

“I'm just trying to be smart for a change.”

“If running from happiness is smart, then I'd rather be dumb. Better dumb than lonely.”

“Well, I'm both.”

“Just give it a try, Beth. You've had a rough year. Have a little fun for a change. What's the worst thing that could happen?”

I looked up at her. “I could like him.”

We rarely worry about the correct things.

Beth Cardall's Diary

Friday morning Matthew came by the cleaners. Roxanne was up front when he came in.

“Is Beth here?”

“She sure is,” she said. “You're Matthew?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“My mother is ma'am. I'm Rox. I'll get her for you.” She ran back to get me, her face bright with excitement. “He's here.”

“Who's here?”

“
Him
. Matthew.”

“Oh.” I looked up through the glass. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets. I hung up the trousers and walked up front.

He smiled when he saw me. “Good morning.”

“Hi.”

“I was just making sure we're still on for tonight.”

I nodded. “I found a babysitter.”

He smiled. “Awesome. Then I'll see you at seven.”

“Seven it is.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

“I love Italian.”

“Great. I was thinking dinner and a movie.” He just stood there awkwardly, then said again, “Well, great. See you at seven.” He turned and walked out.

Roxanne walked in before the front door closed. “Girl, that boy is smitten.”

“Will you quit spying on me?”

“No way.”

I shook my head and walked back to the press. Roxanne followed me back.

“So what are you and the hunk doing on your date?”

“Dinner and a show.”

“No show—bad choice for a first date. Movies are for old, boring couples who have run out of things to say. Like me and Ray.”

“It's not my choice.”

“You're the woman, it's always your choice. Just take your time at dinner and then suggest something else. Trust me, smitten as he is, he's eager to please.”

“Suggest something else, like what?”

“Girl, you're almost thirty. Think of something.”

I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not. Nothing physical. Not even a kiss.”

“Are you really trying to run him off?”

“Maybe. Besides, he said he just wants to be friends.”

She looked at me incredulously. “He didn't say that.”

“Yes, he did.”

“He
really
said that?”

“Yes,” I repeated. “He
really
said that.”

“When?”

“At the supermarket.”

“Then he's a liar. Men never want to just be friends. And if he does, then you should really worry.”

“That's what I told him.”

“Good, you're not completely numb.” She touched my hair. “When was the last time you got a cut?”

“Five weeks ago.”

“It'll pass. So here's what you do. After dinner, get a coffee to go, drive up Millcreek Canyon and just sit in the car and talk.”

“Why don't we just get a coffee at the restaurant?”

“This isn't about food, it's about strategic placement.”

I held up my hands. “Stop right there. This isn't about strategic anything. I have no place in my life for complications. If he can carry a conversation, we're fine. If not, then lucky me, I dodged a bullet.”

Roxanne sighed. “Okay, fine. You're right. Boring as all get out, but right. What time is he coming over?”

“Seven.”

“Jan will be over at 6:45. And I expect a
full
report in the morning.”

“That I can do. Now let me work, boss.”

“Okay, okay.” As she walked back out front, she shouted after me, “Remember, full report.”

I smiled.
I love that woman.

Jan arrived around six-thirty. I had just gotten out of the shower when Charlotte let her in. I came out wrapped in a towel.

“Hi, Mrs. C.” Jan was dressed in a maroon baby-doll dress with black tights and a denim jacket.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I thought I said seven.”

“You did,” Jan said brightly, “I'm off the clock until seven. You know, I just love hanging with my Char.”

“Thanks, honey. I made Charlotte some Ramen noodles for dinner. I'll be in the bathroom getting ready.”

I went back and got dressed then started on my makeup. It had been a while since I'd put that much time in at the mirror and it made me happy. It felt good to feel pretty again. I was putting on my mascara when I heard Jan scream, “Mrs. Cardall! Mrs. Cardall!”