This Matter Of Marriage (12 page)

“That sounds like a great idea.” Hallie stood and refilled their cups. “I know how difficult this is for you. I want you to know how much I respect you for refusing to compromise your dreams. You
will
find the right man.”

Donnalee wanted with all her heart to believe that. In the beginning Sanford had seemed to be that man. But now…She looked at Hallie, grateful for the friendship they shared.

A good friendship—like this one with Hallie—endured. It sustained you during times of crisis. It was there for you during the good times and the bad.

The same thing, Donnalee reflected, couldn't always be said of romance.

“H
ey, Dad, do you know what tomorrow is?” Meagan asked Steve as he led the way from the soccer field to the parking lot. He'd played on an adult league for a couple of years, and both kids participated in the children's fall league. Steve enjoyed helping them hone their skills. It was good for killing a Sunday afternoon, like today, when the kids were restless and ready to go back to their mother and their friends. Their weekday lives. It hurt to know they were sometimes eager to leave him, but he swallowed that pain along with everything else the divorce had brought.

“Dad, I asked if you know what tomorrow is,” Meagan said impatiently.

Other than the fact that tomorrow was the twenty-eighth of April, Steve had no idea. He'd never been much good at remembering important dates. Valentine's Day had come and gone, St. Patrick's Day, as well as April Fools' Day. Mary Lynn's birthday…no, that couldn't be it. That was last month and he'd actually remembered it. What the hell was so important about April?

“Hallie's birthday,” Meagan announced. “She's turning thirty. Her friend sent her flowers, and when I asked her, she said they were for her birthday. She said it was the big three-O.”

“Really?” Steve hadn't seen much of his neighbor lately. He got a kick out of her reaction to his husband-hunting advice—he'd heard from the kids that she'd signed up for cooking classes. He knew he'd offended her by mentioning a woman's bustline, but what he'd said was the truth. He wasn't talking about himself, of course. He didn't spend a lot of time looking at a woman's chest. Oh hell, he'd own up to it. He did look now and then. What man didn't?

“She isn't dating anyone,” Kenny added, climbing into the car behind his sister. The kids preferred him to take his car rather than his work truck. More room.

“How come?” he asked. His kids saw far more of Hallie than he did.

“She's regrouping,” Meagan explained.

“Yeah, she's baking cookies and stuff.” Kenny bounced the soccer ball on his knee. “When I asked her why, do you know what she said? She said men needed help knowing they wanted to get married. Is that true, Dad?”

“Ah…I guess so.”

“Do you like Hallie?” The question came from his daughter.

“Like her? Sure.”

“I mean
like
her.”

“You mean romantically?” Steve knew that was exactly what Meagan meant. He could tell by his daughter's tone that his answer was important to her. Wouldn't his kids be more interested in seeing him back with their mother? Most children were. Maybe they knew something he didn't.

“Hallie's a wonderful person,” Steve answered carefully. “I like her a lot, but she isn't the woman for me.” It didn't seem necessary to remind his children that the only woman he'd ever loved was their mother.

“Why isn't she the woman for you?” Kenny asked.

“Well, because…she just isn't. Don't get me wrong, Hallie's great, but—”

“She isn't Mom,” Meagan finished for him, and he thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice.

“Yeah,” he said. “She isn't your mother.”

“But Mom's dating Kip,” Kenny threw in.

The sound of the man's name made Steve clench his teeth. He didn't know where Mary Lynn was going with this relationship or how serious it was. Every time he asked her she got defensive.

“So she's still seeing the ol' Kiperroo,” Steve joked, trying to disguise his concern.

“A lot.” Kenny sighed deeply.

This was the last thing Steve wanted to hear, but he'd rather know the truth so he could deal with it. Clearly it was time to change tactics if he wanted to win back his ex-wife. This hands-off wait-and-see-what-happens-with-Kip approach hadn't worked. He'd call Mary Lynn, he decided, and talk to her again. Soon.

“I think you should ask Hallie out,” Meagan said, studying him intently.

“Hallie and me on a date?” Steve tried to keep it light. “No way.”

“But she's a lot of fun, Dad,” Kenny insisted. “And her chocolate-chip cookies are real good. She let me take some to the guys last week and everyone liked 'em.” He paused. “She's funny, too. She bakes all these cookies and then gives them away. I asked her why she doesn't eat some, and she said it's because she's come to hate her treadmill.”

Steve grinned.

“Will you think about going out with Hallie sometime?” Meagan asked.

He should have known his daughter wouldn't let this drop. “I'll think about it,” he promised.

“Which means no,” Meagan muttered.

Steve felt he had to justify his hesitation. “Not so,” he argued. “I will think about it.” The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his kids, but he couldn't allow them to dictate his love life.

 

Steve didn't give his conversation with Meagan and Kenny another thought until the following evening. He'd never been keen on yard work, but the lawn badly needed to be mowed. Monday afternoon he returned home from work and decided he couldn't delay that chore any longer. If he did, the condo association might come pounding on his door.

At least the weather was beautiful, unseasonably warm and summer-bright. Perfect for outdoor tasks.

Steve made sure he had a couple of bottles of cold beer in the refrigerator before he started. It took three tugs to get the old mower going, but it finally kicked in.

Being a generous kind-hearted soul, or so he told himself, he tossed aside his shirt and mowed Hallie's half of the shared yard when he'd finished his own. She'd done more than one favor for him, and he appreciated knowing that Meagan and Kenny could stay at her place if he was late on Friday afternoons.

It was when he turned off the lawn mower that he heard the music. A blues number. The wail of a solitary saxophone that seemed to speak of sadness and trouble. He thought the music was coming from Hallie's place.

He stood quietly, listening to be sure. When he glanced through her sliding glass door, he caught a glimpse of her lying on the living-room carpet, arms spread out. Her eyes were closed and she wore the woeful look of a woman done wrong. He paused and wondered what
that
was all about. Then he remembered what Meagan had told him.

This was the day Hallie turned thirty.

Steve had spent his last two birthdays alone. He'd tried to tell himself he didn't care, that birthday celebrations were for kids. But he remembered the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach when he'd climbed into bed those nights, regretting that there hadn't been anyone around to make a fuss over him.

Was anyone making a fuss over Hallie? Like him, she'd probably heard from her family and a few friends—one of them had sent her flowers. But she was alone now and obviously miserable. Poor thing. His heart went out to her.

Steve showered and changed clothes, but couldn't forget how depressed and lonely Hallie had looked. Hell, he'd been there himself.

Before he could change his mind he stuck a candle in a snack cake, grabbed the two bottles of beer and knocked on her front door.

He listened as the mournful music abruptly ended. A moment later he heard the lock turn as she opened the front door.

“Happy birthday to you,” he sang, and handed her the chocolate-flavored cupcake.

“Who told you?” she asked, wide-eyed with surprise and what he hoped was delight.

“The kids. Hey, it isn't every day you celebrate your thirtieth birthday.”

“Come on in,” she said, leading the way into her living room. “Although I don't know that I'm fit company.”

“Because you've turned the dreaded three-O?” He'd heard some women saw thirty as the end of their youth, which struck him as ridiculous. Besides, if the kids hadn't told him, he wouldn't have guessed Hallie was a day over twenty-five. All right, twenty-eight.

“Thirty,” she muttered, collapsing onto the sofa, “and not a marriage prospect in sight.”

Steve uncapped one of the beers and passed it to her. “Tell Uncle Stevie all about it.”

“
Uncle
Stevie?”

“Hey, I'm five years your senior. I've spit in the eye of middle age—spreading middle, weak knees, failing eyesight and everything.”

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Thirty's not so bad,” he assured her, “once you get used to it.”

“That isn't all. I have other reasons for being depressed.”

“You owe the IRS?” Since they both owned their own businesses, he knew what a killer tax time could be.

“Yes,” she said with a groan, as if he'd reminded her of something
else
to be depressed about. “But that's the bad news with the good. I made more money than I did last year, so I can't really complain too much.” She tipped back the bottle and took a respectable swig of beer.

Some women sipped beer like they were tasting fine single-malt Scotch. Not Hallie, and he liked her the better for it.

“I gained back five of the ten pounds I lost,” she said plaintively. “I suffered to lose those five pounds. One little slip with the double-fudge macadamia-nut ice cream and they're back.”

As far as he could see, those few pounds hadn't hurt her any. He didn't think she had any cause for concern. Despite having reached the big three-O, she looked just fine.

“I don't know what made me decide to step on the scale this morning. I told myself I wouldn't, seeing that it's my birthday and all.” She downed another swallow of beer. “And there they were.” She fell back against the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. “It wasn't supposed to happen like that.” Suddenly she gave him a stricken look. “I can't believe I'm telling you this. Usually I only discuss this kind of stuff with Donnalee. You must be a better friend than I thought.”

“Uh, maybe there's something wrong with your scale,” he said, trying to be helpful.

“I'm not talking about that,” she muttered, although she was touched by his attempt to shift the blame for those five pounds to her scale. “The thing is, according to my goal planner, I should have met him by now.”

She opened one eye and stared at him. He suspected she was asking him to inquire further, which he obligingly did. “Him?”

“My husband-to-be,” she said, enunciating just a little too clearly.

“Oh, yeah. Him.”

“This beer tastes really good.” She finished off the bottle and set it aside.

Steve had barely tasted his. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Her head lolled against the back of the sofa, both eyes tightly shut. She seemed to find the question amusing and smiled broadly. “Not breakfast or lunch, either. Too much work.”

That explained why the beer had gone to her head so fast.

“Then listen, this is your lucky day because I was about to order Chinese. There's a new place off Meeker that delivers. It's on me.”

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”

“Exactly.” He walked over to her phone, removed the business card from his wallet and ordered enough to feed them both for two or three meals.

“Donnalee's in Hawaii,” Hallie said.

He had no idea why she felt the need to tell him that.

“She had flowers delivered.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Very nice,” Hallie agreed.

He noticed that she perked up after the food arrived. The scent of sizzling pepper beef and almond fried chicken wafted enticingly through the compact kitchen. “This is one of the sweetest things anyone's ever done for me,” she said, arranging two plates on the table and putting water on to boil for tea.

Steve was impressed that she used chopsticks. He did, too, pleased that she was willing to eat in the traditional Chinese way. Mary Lynn had refused to even try and lost patience with him when he insisted on doing so.

Because they were both hungry, they ate in silence. It no longer surprised him how comfortable he felt with Hallie. As he'd explained to his children, he wasn't romantically interested in her, but he considered her a friend. He'd come to believe that in many ways friendship was of greater value.

“I feel so much better,” she said when she'd finished. She pushed her plate aside, placed her hands on her stomach and slowly exhaled. “Both physically and emotionally. Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem.” He didn't want her getting all sentimental over a little thing like a bottle of beer and some take-out dinner. “You've been a real help to me with the kids on Friday nights. This was the least I could do for your birthday.”

“My thirtieth birthday,” she said.

Afterward Steve wasn't sure when he'd made the decision to kiss her. It was an impulse, he rationalized later, no doubt prompted by Meagan and Kenny's questions from the day before.