Kitabı oku: «This Matter Of Marriage»

Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author DEBBIE MACOMBER

“Debbie Macomber’s gift for understanding the souls of women—their relationships, their values, their lives—is at its peak.”

—BookPage on Between Friends

“Macomber offers a very human look at three women who uproot their lives to follow their true destiny.”

—Booklist on Changing Habits

“Macomber is known for her honest portrayals of ordinary women in small-town America, and this tale cements her position as an icon of the genre.”

—Publishers Weekly on 16 Lighthouse Road

“Debbie Macomber is one of the most reliable, versatile romance authors around. Whether she’s writing light-hearted romps or more serious relationship books, her novels are always engaging stories that accurately capture the foibles of real-life men and women with warmth and humor.”

—Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

“Macomber’s women serve as bedrock for one another in this sometimes tearful, always uplifting tale that will make readers wish they could join this charming breakfast club.”

—Booklist on Thursdays at Eight

“Debbie Macomber is one of the few true originals in women’s fiction…. Her books are touching and marvelous and not to be missed!”

—Anne Stuart

“As always, Macomber draws rich, engaging characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Thursdays at Eight

“Debbie Macomber shows why she is one of the most powerful, highly regarded authors on the stage today.”

—Midwest Book Review

This Matter of Marriage
Debbie Macomber

For Paula and Dianne.

You know why.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I remember watching the Academy Awards and wondering just how long it would take for the awards winner to spout off all the names of those who’d helped along the way. The list seemed endless. While I’m not an Academy Award winner—at least, not yet—I have my own list of people to thank, so please bear with me.

Thanks, first and foremost, to my husband, Wayne, who loved and believed in me enough to allow me to follow my dream. To my agent, Irene Goodman, who held my hand all through contract negotiations. To my best friend, Linda Lael Miller, who taught me everything I needed to know about power-shopping. And thanks to Susan Wiggs for our twice-a-month neurotic lunches.

No writer has been blessed with a better support team. Thank you, one and all.

Working with MIRA has been a writer’s dream. Everything in life should be this much fun. Thank you, Paula, Dianne, Randall, Candy, KO, Stuart and Brian. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

Contents

One: Starting Now

Two: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Three: Seven Down, Three To Go

Four: First There Was Paul, Then George…

Five: Bachelor #1

Six: The Loan Ranger

Seven: Make Mine A Double

Eight: Bachelor #2

Nine: Bingo!

Ten: The Lady With The Curve Ball

Eleven: Disappointments

Twelve: Bachelor #3

Thirteen: Bring On The Ice Cream

Fourteen: Does He Wear Panty Hose?

Fifteen: What Friends Are For

Sixteen: Not My Type

Seventeen: She Bakes

Eighteen: Aunt Hallie

Nineteen: Take It Like A Man

Twenty: Chicken Soup For The Heart

Twenty-One: Back In The Saddle Again

Twenty-Two: The Girl Next Door

Twenty-Three: Back In The Game

Twenty-Four: Four Blind Mice

Twenty-Five: When Todd Met Donnalee

Twenty-Six: Second Chance At Love

Twenty-Seven: Large Women Wearing Helmets With Horns

Twenty-Eight: The Movies

Twenty-Nine: Love Is Better Than Chocolate

Thirty: Mr. Nice Guy

Thirty-One: Goodbye, My Heart

Thirty-Two: Wide Awake And Dreaming

Thirty-Three: The Wedding

Thirty-Four: The Wedding Bouquet

Epilogue

One
Starting Now

January 1

A new year generally starts out with me writing a few inspiring lines about how I’m going to lose five pounds—let’s be honest, it’s ten—and pay off all my credit cards and other high expectations like that. It’s the same every January. But this year’s going to be different. Oh, I still want to lose those extra pounds, more than ever, but for a different reason.

I want a husband. And eventually a family.

And that means I need a plan. Being a goal-oriented person, I usually begin by identifying what I’m after (MARRIAGE!!) and then I work out a logical procedure for getting it. Which, in this case, includes looking good. (Not that I look bad now, if I do say so myself. But I’m talking really good. Are you listening, thighs?) Because, as I’ve learned in advertising, packaging counts.

Putting all this into words is something of an eye-opener for me. I’ve come a long way from those college days when I refused to give in to what I called the “female escape route,” like some of my friends. Cassie, Jamie, Rita and Jane all got married within six months of graduation, and as far as I could see, the only reason they did was because they found the real world more of a challenge than they’d anticipated, and used marriage as a cop-out.

Not me. Oh, no, marriage was much too conventional for me. I wanted to kick some butt in the business world first. Make a name for myself with my very own graphic arts firm. And I’ve done it! Now I feel like I’ve come full circle. I’ve accomplished a lot , and I won’t minimize my achievements, but this Christmas I realized there’s more to life than getting the Woman of the Year award from the Chamber of Commerce.

So, last week I made the decision: Marriage!

It’s time to let a man into my life. Until now I’ve viewed relationships like…dessert. Nice occasionally, but not with every meal. My friends have been tossing potential husbands in my direction for years, and I’ve frustrated them again and again.

I’m too picky, that’s what Rita says. Not true. I have my standards; every woman does. But my work’s the reason I haven’t married. I’ve poured my heart into making a success of Artistic License. For the past six years my focus, my talent and all my energy have been with the business. It’s filled every waking minute.

Then, this Christmas it hit me. I want more . I suspect this has something to do with losing Dad last June. Mom’s still struggling, but then so are Julie and I. The holidays were really hard without him. Somehow, the celebration seemed empty and sad, and we were all kind of weepy thinking about the Christmas things he used to do—getting the tree every year and making a big deal out of hanging the decorations Julie and I made when we were kids. Reading the Nativity story on Christmas Eve. Putting on his Santa apron to carve the turkey. Things like that.

I’m so sorry Dad missed his granddaughter’s first Christmas. I knew Julie’s baby would help Mom through the grieving process, but I didn’t expect little Ellen to have such a profound effect on me.

I’ve always thought of myself as the strong independent type. I haven’t wanted a man around for fear I might be forced to admit I need someone. I don’t know why I’m like this. (Then again, I’m not sure I want to know, either.) The point is, I feel differently now.

It started when Julie gave me the baby to rock. I swear my heart melted when I held her. In that moment I felt something I can only describe as maternal instinct, and I realized this is what I want. This is what’s been missing from my life. A husband, a family.

With the right husband, I know I can have it all. Home, family and career. Plenty of women do it, and I can, too. Funny how a little thing like holding a baby can change a person’s attitude. I’m ready. Past ready. Starting now, my life’s taken an abrupt turn. What was vital a month ago has shifted to the back burner.

So, yes, I admit it.

I want a husband and children. Obviously, what I need first is the man. (I plan to do things in the right order!)

Mom always says that once I make up my mind I don’t let anything stand in my way. I’ve set my goal, made my plans, and I figure I should find a husband in two, three months, tops. This time next year, I expect to be a married woman. (Maybe even a pregnant one!)

Just how difficult can it be?

S weat rolled down Hallie McCarthy’s forehead, dripping in her eyes and momentarily blurring her vision. Using the towel draped around her neck, she wiped her brow. Although she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, Hallie glanced at the timer on the treadmill.

One minute left.

Sixty short seconds. She could endure that. With a renewed sense of purpose, she picked up her pace and waited impatiently for the buzzer.

The treadmill had all the bells and whistles, as it should, considering what she’d paid for it (plus the three designer running suits, color-coordinated with the treadmill). At the end of her workout a digital message would flash across the four-inch computer screen, complimenting her on a job well-done.

Donnalee had suggested she join a gym to meet men, and she would, Hallie told herself, once she was at her goal weight. But not now. She wasn’t about to go prancing around a gym with thighs that resembled ham hocks. Which, she supposed, was something like cleaning her house before the cleaning lady arrived—but she’d done that, too.

Huffing, her heart feeling ready to explode, Hallie gripped the sides of the treadmill as the timer counted down those final seconds. This last minute was proving to be the longest of her life.

Needing a distraction to take her mind off the physical agony while she raced toward an imaginary finish line, Hallie turned to look out her living-room window at the luxury condominium next door.

Hey, she was getting a new neighbor. A moving van was parked in front and a crew of able-bodied men—very able-bodied, she noted appreciatively—unloaded its contents. A big truck that probably required a step stool to climb into was parked behind it. The license-plate frame was one of those customized ones. Squinting, she was able to make out the words: BIG TRUCK. BIG TOOLS. Hallie groaned aloud and rolled her eyes. Men and their egos! Two muscular guys wandered into her line of vision, and she wondered if one of those good-looking hunks might be her neighbor.

Willow Woods, the condominium complex where she’d moved six months earlier, had all but sold out. She’d speculated it wouldn’t take long for the place next to hers to sell. Especially since it was a three-bedroom unit, the most spacious design available. Must be a family moving in. She was definitely cheered by the thought of having neighbors.

The timer went off, and the treadmill ground to a halt. Hallie heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed her sweat-drenched face with the towel. Her cheeks felt red and hot and her short curly hair was matted against her temples. Her old gray sweats—she didn’t feel comfortable sweating in her new color-coordinated ones—were loose around the waist. A promising sign. The temptation to run into the bathroom and leap on the scale was strong, but she’d made that mistake too often and vowed she’d only weigh herself once a week. Monday morning, bright and early—that was when she’d do it.

She’d lost five pounds in twenty-one days. The first two had fallen away easily, but the last three had been like chiseling at a concrete block with a tablespoon. She’d starved herself, exercised faithfully. She’d counted fat grams, carbohydrates, calories and chocolate chips to little avail.

Her best friend, Donnalee Cooper, claimed Hallie was putting too much stock in the physical, but Hallie believed otherwise. It was that packaging thing again. The men she knew based their reactions to women—at least their initial reactions—on looks. It didn’t matter if the woman had a brain in her head as long as her waist was tiny…and her other assets weren’t. Of course, attracting a man wasn’t Hallie’s only incentive for becoming physically fit. She didn’t exercise nearly enough, had taken to skipping breakfast and was downing fast food on the run. Not a healthy lifestyle. Donnalee seemed unconvinced when Hallie explained this, though, pointing out that she hadn’t worried about her health before.

Donnalee was single, although she’d had a brief disastrous marriage in her early twenties. To Hallie’s delight, when she’d shared her goal of finding a man and marrying within the next twelve months, Donnalee had decided to join forces with her. She said that she’d never meant to wait this long to remarry, and like Hallie, she wanted children. But Donnalee brought a different strategy to their marriage campaign.

“Just be yourself,” she’d advised.

“Being myself hasn’t attracted a whole lot of attention so far,” Hallie complained. That, at least, shut her friend up. Dating opportunities had dwindled to a trickle in the last few years, but she was determined to improve the situation.

Hallie showered and changed clothes, then phoned her mother who lived across Puget Sound in Bremerton, on the Kitsap Peninsula. Hallie and her father had been close, both in personality and in appearance, but it was from her mother that she’d inherited her artistic talent. Despite her ability, Lucille McCarthy had never worked outside the home. It had always troubled Hallie that a woman so genuinely talented would be content to do little more than keep house. Not until she was an adult living on her own did she recognize her mother’s contribution to the family. Over the months since her father’s sudden death, Hallie had come to appreciate her mother’s quiet strength. At Christmas, she’d encouraged her to take up oil painting, and Lucille had recently begun a class.

The conversation went well, with Lucille cheerfully describing the portrait she’d started to paint of a sleeping Ellen. Afterward, Hallie wrote her weekly grocery list, threw on a jacket and hurried out the door, eager to finish her Saturday-morning chores. It was when she climbed into her car that she saw her new neighbor. At least, she thought he was the one. He was tall and not as brawny as she’d thought at first glance. Solid, she decided. All shoulders, with good upper-body strength. Handsome, too, in an unobtrusive way. In other words, seeing him didn’t make her heart beat faster—which was just as well, since he was obviously married with children.

He did have an interesting face, a lived-in face, and seemed the type of person she’d like to know. Not romantically, of course, but maybe as a friend. She turned her attention from him to the two kids at his side. A girl and boy, who were probably about eleven and nine. Great-looking kids. The girl waved, her smile wide and friendly.

Hallie waved back, inserted the key into the ignition and drove off.

The moving van was gone by the time she returned an hour or so later. The two kids were riding their bicycles when she pulled into her driveway.

The girl headed her way, long coltish legs pumping the bicycle pedals.

“Hi,” she called. “My dad just moved next door.” She stopped abruptly and hopped off the polished chrome bike.

“So I saw,” Hallie said, leaning across the front seat and removing her bags of groceries.

“I’m Meagan. That’s my brother, Kenny.” She nodded toward the younger boy, and as if on cue, Kenny joined his sister.

“You got any kids?” Kenny asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no.” She balanced both grocery bags in her arms.

Some of the enthusiasm left the boy’s eyes. “Do you know anyone around here who does?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think there are any kids your age on this block.” Most of the couples who’d moved into the complex were just starting out. Hallie suspected there’d be any number of children in the neighborhood within a few years, but not now.

“Here,” Meagan said, tilting her bike onto the grass. “I can help you carry those in.” She took one bag out of Hallie’s hands.

“Thanks.” Hallie was touched by her thoughtfulness and said so.

The girl beamed at the praise. “Mom says I’m a big help to her now that she and Dad are divorced.”

Meagan’s expression grew sad when she mentioned the divorce. Hallie’s heart immediately went out to her—but she couldn’t help musing that her new neighbor was available, after all. It was an automatic reaction, triggered by her newly activated husband-seeking instincts.

Hallie briefly recalled her first impressions of him and decided then and there that she wanted someone with a bit more…finesse. A guy who drove a truck with a license-plate holder advertising his big tools didn’t overly impress her. It wasn’t only that, either; she’d seen what the movers had carted into his house. Sports equipment. Boxes and boxes of it. There didn’t seem to be anything this guy hadn’t tried. From mountain climbing to kayaking to scuba diving.

Hallie led the way into the kitchen, where she dumped her sack on the countertop. Meagan carefully put hers beside it. “Thanks again, Meagan.”

“Are you married?” the girl asked.

“Not yet.” But there were visions of entwined wedding rings dancing around in her head. She had a prospect, too. A man she’d just met yesterday, as a matter of fact.

“Well, gotta go have lunch. See you next weekend,” Meagan said, rushing for the front door.

As Hallie started to put the groceries away, she saw that the message light on her answering machine was blinking. Probably her mother again, or her sister, Julie, calling to report on baby Ellen’s latest adorable exploit. But what if it was him? Him being the new loans officer at Keystone Bank. Hallie had gone in on Friday afternoon to make her deposits and been introduced to John Franklin.

The minute she’d laid eyes on him she realized he was everything she sought in a husband. Tall, dark and handsome. Friendly, polite and clearly intelligent. He met all the basic criteria, including availability; she’d noticed the absence of a wedding ring. He was close to forty, she estimated, but that didn’t disturb her. An eleven-year gap didn’t make much difference, not at her age. She’d be thirty in April, three months from now. Surely she’d be engaged by then.

Unfortunately the message wasn’t from John. It was from Donnalee, who sounded excited and asked Hallie to phone the minute she walked in the door.

Hallie rang her back. “You called?”

“I’ve found the answer,” Donnalee blurted.

“What’s the question?” Hallie grumbled in response; she hadn’t had lunch and was never at her best on an empty stomach.

“Where do we meet the men of our dreams?”

“Hmm.” Her friend certainly had her attention now. “Wher?”

“The answer’s a bit complicated, so stay with me.”

“Donnalee…”

“All I ask is that you hear me out. All right?”

Hallie muttered a reply. This dating thing had been much easier in high school and college. Apparently she’d lost the knack. Oh, there’d been a few romances in the years since, most of them what you’d call short-term. One had lasted the better part of six months, until it, too, fizzled out. The fault, Hallie admitted, had been her own. Gregg had complained about her long hours and her total commitment to Artistic License, and she’d told him that wasn’t likely to change.

“I found an ad in the Seattle Weekly for a dating service,” Donnalee announced.

Hallie groaned. As far as she was concerned, only people who were desperate resorted to dating services. She didn’t even want to think about the kind of men who applied to meet women that way. “You’re joking, right?”

“You promised you’d hear me out.”

Hallie closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Okay, okay. Tell me all about it and then I’ll tell you I’m not interested.”

“This is different.”

“They use videos, right?”

“No,” Donnalee said indignantly. “Would you kindly listen?”

“Sorry.”

“You and I are successful businesswomen. Most men are intimidated by women like us.”

Hallie wasn’t convinced that was true, but didn’t say so.

“In my case, I’ve been married once and it was a disaster.”

“That was over thirteen years ago.”

“Soon it’ll be fifteen and then twenty, and my whole life will have passed me by. All because I made a stupid mistake when I was barely out of my teens. Hallie, I want a man in my life.”

“The whole nine yards,” Hallie added.

“Children, the house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. Cat, dog, family vacations. I can’t believe I’ve put it off this long! I’d probably still be putting it off if you hadn’t come up with your plan.”

“You’re saying you want me to contact a dating service, too?”

“Would you listen, darn it? First you have to apply and if you’re accepted, you pay a hefty fee and they’ll arrange for you to meet a suitable match. One on the same financial level as you, whose personality fits yours. The woman I talked to claims they’re very selective and only take on a certain number of clients. If you’re accepted, the company is committed to finding you a match.”

“How hefty is the fee?” Hallie had recently forked over fifteen hundred bucks on exercise equipment. So much for paying off her credit cards.

Donnalee hesitated a moment. “Two grand.”

“Two thousand dollars!”

“Yup.”

“I damn well better get a date with Brad Pitt for that.”

Donnalee laughed. “Brad wouldn’t date someone as old as either of us.”

Her friend’s words were of little comfort. “You aren’t serious, are you?” For that kind of money Hallie figured she could have liposuction and forget the treadmill and the dieting.

“Yup,” Donnalee said with a hint of defiance. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t have as much time as you. If this agency can help me find a decent man, then I’d consider the money well spent.”

“You are serious.”

“Just think of it as a shortcut.”

Hallie still wasn’t sold. “I haven’t actually started looking yet.” Using a dating service felt like waving a white flag before she’d even stepped onto the battlefield. Surrendering without so much as a token effort.

“What are you going to do, wear a sandwich board that says AVAILABLE in big black letters?” Donnalee asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’ve had your entire life to find a husband, and you haven’t. What makes you think it’s going to be different now?”

“Because I’m ready.” This probably wasn’t the time to remind her friend that she’d had relationships over the years, the most promising one with Gregg. While it was true that those relationships had grown fewer and fewer, and her social life had become rather dull, she’d barely noticed, working the hours she did. However, since the first of the year, she’d taken measures to correct that, delegating more responsibility to Bonnie Ellis, her assistant.

“And your being ready for marriage changes everything?” Donnalee sounded skeptical. She sounded skeptical a little too often, in Hallie’s opinion.

“There’s a man I’m interested in right now,” Hallie confessed, thinking of John Franklin.

“Really? Who?”

She should’ve guessed Donnalee would demand details.

“A banker,” she answered with some reluctance. “He’s the new loans officer at the Kent branch of Keystone Bank. He transferred this week from the downtown Seattle branch. We met Friday, if you must know. I liked him immediately and he liked me. He’s really good-looking. Sensitive, too.”

“Good-looking and sensitive,” Donnalee repeated.

“Single good-looking men are hard to find,” Hallie insisted, wondering at her friend’s slightly sarcastic tone.

“That’s because the majority of them have boyfriends.”

Hallie paused. John? Was it possible? “Do you know John Franklin?” Since Donnalee managed a mortgage company, she was familiar with many bankers in the area.

“I know of him.”

Hallie’s suspicions mounted. “What do you mean?”

“John Franklin’s the perfect reason you need the services of Dateline.”

“Oh?” Her confidence was shaken.

“You’re right,” Donnalee continued. “John’s sensitive, friendly, personable and handsome as sin. He also happens to be gay.”

Hallie’s spirits sank to the level of bedrock. John Franklin. Hmm. With some men it was obvious and with others…well, with others, it wasn’t.

“So, are you going to join Dateline?” Donnalee asked.

“Two thousand dollars?”

“Consider it cheap since the men are screened.”

“If Brad Pitt’s out, then for that kind of money they’d better come up with royalty.”

“If they do, kid, I’ve got first dibs,” Donnalee said with a laugh.

“I’ll look into Dateline, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Just call and they’ll mail you a brochure. Phone me once you’ve read it over. Promise?”

“Okay, okay,” Hallie mumbled, and wrote down the number. She replaced the telephone receiver and shook her head. Who’d ever have thought this matter of marriage could be so complicated?

Two
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

S teve Marris’s day wasn’t going well. A parts shipment was lost somewhere in the Midwest, his secretary had quit without notice, and he suspected his ex-wife was dating again. The parts shipment would eventually be found and he could hire another secretary, but the news about Mary Lynn was harder to take.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and noted that it’d been at least a month since anyone had bothered to clean the glass pot. He’d make damn sure his next secretary didn’t come with an attitude. This last one had refused to make coffee, claiming she’d been hired for her secretarial skills—not that they’d been so impressive. And she’d never understood that in his shop, everybody pitched in. No, he was well rid of her.

He sipped the hot liquid and grimaced. Todd Stafford must have put on this pot. His production manager made the world’s worst coffee. Steve dumped it and rinsed his mug, then sat down at his desk, sorting through the papers amassed there until he found the invoice he needed.

Todd opened the door. “You going to sit in here all day and fume about Danielle quitting?”

Todd was talking about their recently departed secretary. “Naw, we’re better off without her.”

Todd came into the office, reached for a coffee mug and filled it. He pulled out Danielle’s chair and plopped himself down, propping his feet on the desk. “If it isn’t Danielle walking out, then my guess is you’re sulking about Mary Lynn.”

His friend knew him too well. “I heard she’s dating again.”

“Heard? Who from?”

“Kenny,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“You’re grilling your kids for information about your ex-wife?”

“I know better than that.” Steve experienced a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t intentionally asked his nine-year-old if his mother was dating. Kenny had been talking about joining a softball team in the spring, all excited about playing shortstop. He’d wanted his mother to toss him a few balls, he’d told Steve, but she couldn’t because she was getting ready for a date. The kid had Steve’s full attention at that point. It hadn’t taken much to get Kenny to tell him Mary Lynn was seeing Kip somebody or other.

What the hell kind of name was Kip, anyway? Sounded like a guy who traipsed around in ballet slippers.

“So, what’d you find out?”

Steve ignored the question. He didn’t like thinking about Mary Lynn dating another man, let alone talking about it. What had happened between them was painful even now, a full year after their divorce. An idea struck him suddenly, and he marveled at the genius of it. “I wonder if Mary Lynn might consider filling in here at the office until I can hire another secretary.”

“She hates it here,” Todd muttered. He sipped his coffee, seeming to savor every drop. “You know that.”

What his friend said was true, but Steve welcomed the opportunity to spend time with her. She might even tell him about Kip. “It couldn’t hurt to ask,” he returned, sorry now that he’d said anything to Todd.

“You’re divorced.”

“Thanks, I guess I must’ve forgotten.” Steve glared at him, hoping his sarcasm hit its mark.

“It’s time to move on, old buddy. Mary Lynn has.”

Steve rose abruptly from his chair. “Shouldn’t you get to work?”

“All right, so I touched a raw nerve. No reason to bite my head off.” Todd hurried back to the shop, and Steve swallowed his irritation. Damn it, he still loved Mary Lynn. No one had told him how painful this divorce business would be.

They’d been married twelve years and fool that he was, Steve had assumed they were happy. Then, one day out of the blue, Mary Lynn had started crying. When he’d tried to find out what was wrong, she couldn’t say—except that she was unhappy. They’d married too young, she’d missed out on all the fun, all the carefree years, and now here she was, stuck with a husband, kids, responsibilities. Steve tried to understand her concerns, but everything he said and did only made matters worse. The thing that really got him was her claim that she’d never had her own bedroom. As it turned out, that was more important than he’d realized, because she asked him to move out of theirs shortly afterward.

Steve had called her bluff, firmly believing it was a bluff. He’d voluntarily moved out of the house, thinking that would help her “find herself,” something she apparently couldn’t do with him there. She needed to make contact with her “inner child,” become “empowered” or some other such garbage. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the most sensitive man in the world. She became incensed when he suggested she was watching too many of those daytime talk shows. Then, a month or so after he’d left, Mary Lynn shocked him by asking for a divorce. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, they’d each hired lawyers and were soon standing in front of a judge.

By that time, with attorneys involved, things had gotten heated, and he and Mary Lynn were more at odds than ever. It’d taken over a year to even start repairing the damage the attorneys and courts had done. He was sick of living apart from his family. He wanted his wife back.

Never mind what Todd had said—he would ask Mary Lynn to fill in for Danielle. Just until he could hire another secretary. Just until he could convince her that being apart was pure insanity.

Feeling pleased with himself, he reached for the phone. Mary Lynn answered on the third ring. “Hello,” she murmured groggily.

She never had been much of a morning person. “Hi. It’s Steve.”

“Steve. Good grief, what time is it?”

“Nine.”

“Already?”

He could hear her rustling the sheets in an effort to sit up. During their marriage, he’d loved waking her, having her cuddle against him all soft and warm and feminine, smelling of some exotic flower. Their best loving had been in the mornings.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and yawned loudly.

“Nothing. Well, my secretary quit.”

She went very quiet, and he could almost hear her resentment over the telephone line. “I don’t type, Steve, you know that.”

After all those years together, Mary Lynn could read him like a book. He took a certain perverse pride in that. “I need someone to fill in for a few days until I can hire a new secretary.”

“What about getting a temporary?”

“Sure, I could call an agency and they’d send someone out, but I’d rather give you the money.”

“I’ve got school. It isn’t easy for me attending classes all afternoon plus keeping up with the kids and the house, you know.”

“I realize that, but it’d help me out considerably if you came in for a couple of days, just in the mornings. That’s all I’m asking.” Since paying for her education had been part of the settlement, he was well aware of her schedule.

“You always say that!” she snapped.

“What?” This conversation was quickly taking on the same tone as their arguments before the divorce. He’d say or do something that irritated her, and for the life of him, he wouldn’t understand what he’d done.

“You say you realize how difficult my schedule is. You don’t.”

“I do, honest.”

“If you did, you’d never ask me to pitch in while you take your own sweet time finding a new secretary. I know you, Steve Marris. Two days’ll become two weeks and I won’t be able to keep up with my classes. That’s what you really want, whether you know it or not. You’re trying to sabotage my schoolwork.”

Steve choked back an argument. “I understand how important your classes are,” he said. And he did. What he failed to understand was why her getting an education precluded being married to him. Not only that, he wondered what she intended to do with a major in art history. Get a job in some museum, he supposed—if there were any jobs to be had. But he certainly couldn’t say that to her.

“Do you really, Steve?”

“Yes,” he said, still struggling to show his respect for her efforts. “It’s just that I thought since your classes don’t start until one, you might be willing to help out, but if you can’t, you can’t.”

She hesitated and he closed in for the kill.

“All I need is a couple of hours in the morning. And like I said, if you can’t do it, that’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Do you realize how much reading I have, how many assignments?”

“You’re right, I never should have asked. I guess that’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agreed sharply. Then there was a pause. And a sigh. “I guess I could fill in for a couple of days, but no longer. I want to make that perfectly clear. Two days and not a minute longer, understand?”

“Perfectly.” Steve wanted to leap up and click his heels in the air. Calling Mary Lynn had been one of his better ideas. He was confident it wouldn’t take long to make her forget all about this other guy.

“I hope you don’t want me there before eight?”

He let the question slide. “You’re wearing the pink nightie, aren’t you?”

“Steve!”

“Aren’t you?” His voice grew husky despite his attempts to keep it even. Some of their best sex had come after the divorce. It was so crazy. Mary Lynn wanted him out of the house but continued to welcome him in her bed. Not that he was complaining.

“Yes, I’m wearing your favorite nightie,” she whispered, her voice low and sexy.

Slowly his eyes drifted shut. “I’m coming over.”

“Steve, no. I can’t. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because we shouldn’t.”

Steve was instantly suspicious, convinced her decision had something to do with what Kenny had told him. “Why?”

“We’re divorced, remember?”

“It hasn’t stopped us before. I could be at the house in fifteen minutes. You want me there, otherwise you’d never have told me about the pink nightie.”

Mary Lynn giggled, then altered her tone. “Steve, no, I mean it,” she said solemnly. “We’ve been divorced for a year now. We shouldn’t be sleeping together anymore.”

His jaw tightened. “When did you make that decision?”

“Since the last time.”

He exhaled, his patience fading fast. He did a quick review of their last rendezvous. It’d been late morning, before her classes and while the kids were in school. He’d invented some excuse to stop over. Mary Lynn knew what he wanted, and from the gleam in her eye and the eager way she’d led him into the bedroom, she’d wanted the same thing.

He couldn’t imagine what had changed, other than her dating this Kip character. Unfortunately he couldn’t ask her about it or let on that he knew. The last thing he wanted was to put his children in the middle, between two squabbling parents, something he’d seen other divorced couples do all too often. The divorce had been hard enough on Meagan and Kenny without complicating the situation. So their private lives, his and Mary Lynn’s, would stay that way—private. At least as far as the kids were concerned.

“What happened to change your mind about us sleeping together?” he asked, instead.

Mary Lynn sighed. “Nothing. Everything. We have to break this off. It’s over for us, Steve.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew his wife—ex-wife—well enough not to argue. Something else he knew about Mary Lynn—she possessed a healthy sexual appetite. As strong as his own.

“You’ll be here in the morning, then?” he said, just to be sure.

“I suppose. But remember I agreed to two days, and two days only.”

“Bring along the pink nightie.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but he wasn’t.

He hung up the phone a few moments later, his mood greatly improved.

The rest of his day was relatively smooth. The transport company located the lost shipment in Albuquerque. The parts were guaranteed to be delivered within the next forty-eight hours. The majority of his orders came from a major aircraft builder in the area, for whom he supplied engine mounts, but he also did lathe work, blanchard grinding and other steel-fabrication work for a number of customers. His company was growing, taking on larger and larger orders, and he employed almost a dozen people now.

On the drive home that afternoon, Steve’s gaze fell on his hands—clean hands—gripping the steering wheel. He used to have grease under his fingernails, and that had always bothered Mary Lynn. The irony didn’t escape him. The last year and a half, he’d spent the majority of his time in the office and rarely dirtied his hands. She’d always wanted him to have a white-collar job; when he was finally able to grant her wish, she wanted him out of her life. Damn it all, the machine shop had been good to them—it had bought her house, supported the kids, paid for her education. A little grime around his fingernails seemed a small inconvenience.

The January drizzle grew heavier, and the truck’s windshield wipers beat against the glass, slapping the rain from side to side with annoying regularity. He exited the freeway and headed down the west hill toward Kent. He hadn’t been keen to buy the condominium. If he’d had a choice, he’d be moving back in with his family, but it was going to take longer than he’d first thought for that to happen.

He probably wouldn’t have moved into this complex if he hadn’t grown tired of apartment living. A small apartment was no place for kids, and Meagan and Kenny spent almost every weekend with him.

He would have preferred a real house but living on his own, he didn’t want the bother that went along with it. The condo was a decent compromise. A friend who sold real estate had convinced him it was a good investment. In addition, the builders were offering an attractive buyer-incentive program. The condo was just as nice as the house Mary Lynn and the kids lived in. Not quite as big, but that was okay. The kids liked it, and they’d managed to make friends with his next-door neighbor in short order too, he mused, as he switched off his windshield wipers. The rain had tapered off to almost nothing.

Steve hadn’t met Hallie yet—Meagan had told him her name. From what he’d seen of her, she was an exercise freak. His kitchen window overlooked her living room, and she had a treadmill set up there, alongside one of those stair-stepping machines. Every time he caught a glimpse of her she was working out. She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself, either.

Steve turned into the Willow Woods complex and stopped in front of the two rows of mailboxes aligned at the entrance. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the truck that he saw her. Hallie stood in front of her mailbox studying a large envelope as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Howdy, neighbor,” he greeted her, inserting the key into his mailbox.

Startled, she looked up. “Hello.”

“Steve Marris.” He thrust out his hand. “I moved in next door this past weekend.”

She blinked a couple of times. “You’re Meagan and Kenny’s dad.”

“That’s me.”

“Hallie McCarthy.” She placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

“You’ve got two terrific kids.”

“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. He felt that way, too.

With a nervous motion, Hallie glanced down at the envelope she still held, then shoved it into her purse. “Well, uh, Steve, I have to go. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

Steve had caught the logo on the envelope. Dateline. He’d heard plenty about the pricey exclusive dating service. Shortly after the divorce, a well-meaning friend had tried to talk him into signing up, but he’d recoiled at the idea of paying two thousand bucks for a date. He’d have to be a whole lot more desperate than he was now before he’d even consider it.

Hallie raised her head just then. “I…A friend suggested I write for information,” she blurted. Her cheeks had turned a bright shade of pink. “I’d never…” She paused, squared her shoulders and gave him a smile that was decidedly forced. “I want you to know I don’t need any help finding a man.” Head high, with a dignity Princess Diana would have envied, Hallie McCarthy walked to her car. However, the speed with which she drove off kind of spoiled the effect.

Watching her leave, Steve slowly shook his head. Maybe he should steer the kids away from her. She seemed nice enough, but a little on the weird side.

Three
Seven Down, Three To Go

A rare burst of February sunshine showered Puget Sound, and after weeks of being cooped up inside for her daily exercise routine, Hallie decided to take advantage of this respite from the rain. She donned one of the three coordinated running outfits she’d purchased; it was a lovely teal green with a hot pink racing stripe up the outside of the legs and a geometrical design decorating the zippered jacket. If nothing else, Hallie knew she looked great—and she felt great. Seven of those ten unwanted pounds had vanished. Not without considerable effort, however.

She wasn’t entirely confident that those pounds were gone for good. Were they hiding around the corner, waiting for her to lower her guard? One day away from the treadmill or succumbing to the temptation of a chocolate-chip cookie and they’d be back. Which was why she’d been so rigorous about her diet and exercise regimen. Three pounds to go, and she’d weigh the same as she had at her high-school graduation, more years ago than she cared to remember.

Goal weight. What perfectly lovely words they were.

She hoped she’d manage to achieve it before Valentine’s Day. She’d set the target date back in January, giving herself ample time to reach her physical best. Already she’d let a few select friends—the ones who’d wanted to line her up with their single brothers, unattached male acquaintances and recently divorced colleagues—know she was in the market for a meaningful long-term relationship. She hadn’t heard back yet, but it was still early.

She opened the front door and stepped into the welcome sunshine. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t the only one outside enjoying the warmth.

Her next-door neighbor and his son were playing catch in the front yard. She was afraid she’d started off on the wrong foot with Steve Marris, but wasn’t sure how to correct that. Of all the rotten luck for him to see the envelope from Dateline! Her mistake had been not keeping her mouth shut. Oh, no, that would have been too easy. She had to go and blurt out some stupid, embarrassing remark. She wanted to groan every time she thought of it.

“Hi, Hallie.”

Steve’s daughter raced over to her. With no other kids around her age, Hallie thought, Meagan must get restless spending weekends with her father.

“Howdy, kiddo. What’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” she said in a bored voice. “Dad’s teaching Kenny how to be a great shortstop. I don’t like baseball much.”

“Me, neither,” Hallie said. It wasn’t that she disliked sports; she just didn’t understand the big attraction. A bunch of guys racing around a field or across some ice, all chasing a ball or whatever—what was the point?

Hallie raised her hands above her head and slowly exhaled before bending forward and touching her fingertips to the walkway. She wasn’t sure of the reason for this, but she’d seen runners do it before a race, and she supposed they knew what they were doing. Warming up or something.

After a month on the treadmill, averaging two miles a day on a preset course that simulated a run on hilly terrain, Hallie thought she was ready for one real-life mile. From her car speedometer, she knew it was exactly half a mile to the entrance of Willow Woods. She figured she should be able to run there and back without a problem. Actually she hoped she wouldn’t work up too much of a sweat, fearing it would leave marks on her new running suit.

“What are you doing now?” Meagan asked, watching her go through a series of bends and stretches.

“Getting ready to run.”

“You run?” The kid seemed downright impressed.

“Sure.”

“How far?”

“A mile.” That was as much as she wanted to tackle her first time out. If it went well, she might consider longer distances later.

“Can I come, too?”

“If it’s all right with your dad.” Hallie shook her arms, then placed her hands on her hips while she rotated her head.

Meagan quickly ditched her bike on Hallie’s lawn and raced toward her brother and father.

Hallie felt almost smug. Watching “Wild World of Sports” with Gregg had taught her something, after all. Or was that “Wide World of Sports”? She heard Meagan hurriedly ask permission and felt Steve’s scrutiny before he agreed.

“Dad said I can,” Meagan shouted, racing back.

In deference to Meagan, Hallie set a slow rhythmic pace as she started down the road. Meagan picked up the tempo as they rounded the first corner. Within minutes, Hallie became winded. That was understandable, she told herself, since they were running uphill. By the end of the third block, she felt the strain.

“It isn’t a race,” Hallie gasped when she found the oxygen to speak.

“Oh, am I going too fast for you? Sorry.” Meagan immediately slowed down.

An eternity passed before the brick-walled entrance came into view. “I…think I’m…wearing the wrong…kind…of shoes,” Hallie panted. She stopped, braced her hands on her knees and greedily sucked in as much air as her aching lungs would allow.

There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with her shoes, and Hallie knew it.

“You okay?” Meagan looked worried.

“Fine…I feel great.”

“Can you make it back? Do you want me to run and get my dad?”

Hallie wasn’t about to let Steve Marris see her like this. She straightened and, with effort, managed to smile and act as if nothing was amiss. The burning sensation in her lungs made it nearly impossible to breathe normally. The good news was that the trek back was downhill. The bad news was that she was half a mile from home with an eleven-year-old kid who could run circles around her.

“I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind. He’s real understanding.”

Hallie lied through her teeth. “I’ll be fine, no problem.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Leave it to a kid to humiliate her. As for not sweating, that was a lost cause. Perspiration poured out of her, soaking her hair, beading her upper lip and forehead.

She made a respectable showing on the way back, jogging past her neighbor and his son toward her front porch. She collapsed on the top step and tried to look as if she’d been enjoying herself, which was something of a trick considering she felt like a candidate for CPR.

“Aren’t you going to cooldown?” Meagan asked.

“I thought I’d take a shower.”

“Dad says you’re supposed to walk after a run and give your body a chance to catch up with itself.” Meagan strolled about, and Hallie joined her, soon discovering that, yes, this part of her workout she could handle. A cool breeze refreshed her, and after a couple of minutes her heart settled back into place.

After thanking Meagan for the company, Hallie turned to enter the house and saw a familiar car round the corner. Donnalee. Pleased to see her, Hallie waved. Both women led busy lives, and although they talked on the phone practically every day, they weren’t able to get together nearly as often as they would have liked.

Donnalee was tall and svelte, a striking woman with thick shoulder-length auburn hair. She unfolded her long legs from the car and stood, wearing her elegance naturally, as much a part of her as her soft Southern drawl. They’d met through a mutual friend five years earlier and quickly become friends themselves. Their friendship had grown close; Hallie had much more in common with Donnalee—especially when it came to attitudes and values—than with her college friends. Most of them had married, and some were already on second husbands—while Hallie had yet to find a first. And she wanted her husband to be her first and last. She wanted a marriage like her parents’.

As professional businesswomen, Donnalee and Hallie shared a great many similar experiences. Over the past couple of years they’d become a support system for each other. If Hallie was having trouble with an employee or a customer or just about anything else, it was Donnalee she talked to. If Donnalee had a problem, it was Hallie she phoned. That they should both feel a need, at the same time, to change the focus of their lives didn’t surprise Hallie. Their thoughts often followed the same paths. They read the same books, enjoyed the same movies, had many of the same tastes. In fact, two years earlier they’d gone shopping separately and purchased the same pair of shoes. The only difference was the color.

Hallie was a personable sort, and she’d had a lot of friends from the time she was in kindergarten, but she laughed more with Donnalee than she ever had with anyone. Laughed and cried. Donnalee was that kind of soul friend. That kind of real friend.

“Did you call them?” Donnalee asked.

“You know I did.” Hallie opened her front door and led the way into the kitchen. She might have lacked culinary skills—she was the first to admit it—but she compensated for that with her artistic flair. The room was bright and cheery, decorated in yellow and white with ivy stenciled along the top of the walls. Hallie removed a plastic bottle of springwater from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass. Her throat felt parched.

Donnalee pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter and declined Hallie’s offer of water with a quick shake of her head. “What’d you think?”

“About the brochure?” Hallie decided to break the news quickly, before Donnalee could talk her into signing up. “I’m not going with Dateline.”

Donnalee didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “You haven’t talked to them, have you? Because if you had, you’d realize that this is the only practical way to break into the marriage market these days. It isn’t like when we were in college, with eligible men in every direction.”

“I know that, but I want to try it by myself first.” Two thousand bucks wasn’t anything to sneeze at, and Hallie figured the least she could do was try to meet someone on her own before resorting to spending big bucks. Besides, Donnalee made more money than she did; she could afford Dateline. Hallie’s plan was to give it her best shot and wait to see what happened before maxing out her American Express card.

“I called Rita,” Hallie confessed. Rita was the mutual friend who’d introduced Hallie to Donnalee. She had a reputation for being both unpredictable and romantic, and she wasn’t above arranging dates for her friends.

Looking mildly worried, Donnalee leaned forward. “You didn’t tell her I went to Dateline, did you?”

“No, don’t worry. That’s our little secret. All I said was that I had sort of an awakening this Christmas and decided it’s time I committed myself to a long-term relationship.” She smiled at the memory of their colleague’s reaction. “Rita has this theory about my sudden desire to meet a man. She thinks it has to do with losing my dad, so she says I might end up in a situation I’ll regret.” Hallie shrugged comically. “After all these years of her pushing me to date one man or another, I would’ve figured she’d be pleased to know I was serious about getting married.” Hallie paused, remembering the conversation. “When I told her I was ready for a family, she suggested I find myself a guy with good genes, get myself pregnant and dump him.”

“Rita said that?”

Hallie nodded. “Awful, huh?” She liked Rita, made an effort to keep in touch, but they were basically very different kinds of people. For instance, Rita prided herself on saying the most outrageous things.

“I guess that’s an idea if all you want is to have a child,” Donnalee said hesitantly.

“Which I’m not. I’d also like a husband. I’m no fool—I watched my sister with Ellen and I don’t know how she managed. A newborn demanded every minute of her time, even with Jason and Mom and me all helping. Fortunately for her, Jason’s one of those really involved fathers. I don’t know how any woman can manage alone. It’s more than I want to attempt.”

“Me, too,” Donnalee agreed, her drawl more noticeable than usual. Donnalee had moved from Georgia when she was thirteen, but had never quite lost the accent. Unexpectedly she grinned. “Can you imagine us as mothers?”

“Yes,” Hallie said, although it seemed a stretch. She wondered if other women their age went through this. If so, it wasn’t a subject her single friends discussed often or frankly. Many were like Donnalee, divorced and gunshy. Hallie didn’t have that excuse.

“Guess what? Dateline called me yesterday,” Donnalee said, avoiding eye contact. She fiddled with the leather strap of her purse, opening and closing the zipper, a sure sign she was nervous. “They came up with a match for me.” She darted a look in Hallie’s direction.

“Already?” Hallie hated to say it, but she was impressed.

“They faxed over the pertinent information and asked me to review it and call back. So I did. Then Sanford phoned me an hour later and I’m meeting him for dinner this evening.”

“Sanford?”

“I know. The picture of a stuffy conservative type immediately comes to mind, doesn’t it, but then we spoke and…”

“And?” Hallie prodded when her friend didn’t continue.

“He seems, I don’t know, ideal.”

“Ideal?” Dateline was beginning to sound better every minute.

“I’m frightened, Hallie. I felt the same way about Larry when I first met him, but what the hell did I know? I was nineteen and away from my family for the first time. I probably would’ve welcomed attention from a serial killer.”

Donnalee didn’t mention her ex very often. He’d dumped her for another woman after their first year of marriage. Donnalee’s self-esteem had been shattered and her ego left in shreds. It’d taken a decade to regroup, and even then Hallie wasn’t sure some of the damage wasn’t permanent. She could appreciate her friend’s fears and said so.

“But it’s different this time,” Hallie assured her. “You’re not a kid governed by hormones.”