4

I stood barefoot on the beige carpet in the walk-in closet underneath the faint yellow glow of the small light. The school girls going to prom had nothing on me. I tingled with excitement as I dressed in a black skirt and jeweled knit shirt and twirled in front of the mirror. The doorbell rang, and I made tracks down the hall and answered.

Philip pushed back a lock of black hair falling over his forehead and smiled. “You look gorgeous.” He leaned over, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to me.

You could be in for a permanent sleep.

I’d convinced myself a bored kid wrote the first note. “Is someone threatening to...not again.” I shook inside.

This wasn’t a youngster’s message to no one.

Furrows creased Philip’s brow as he leaned over and peered at it. “I’m sorry I found it, but look. It has the same childlike lettering. It must’ve blown from the shop into the yard.” He put his arm around my waist. “Don’t worry. I believe it was the same boy or girl with nothing to do who penned the first one.”

My jitters melted at his touch and reassuring words, and he guided me out. Oh, no. Lloyd’s ornery 1965 classic. Why didn’t he send Philip his newer loaner? I glanced at my coupe, but would it insult Philip if I suggested we take it?

He already held the passenger door open, gesturing toward the seat as though it was Cinderella’s carriage. “Lloyd knows how to treat his customers. He refuses to charge me for this snazzy, black loaner vehicle.” Philip’s lips curved up. He eased into the driver’s seat and backed out. “I don’t have a map to Blue Mountain. Can you navigate?”

Finding the place wasn’t the problem. “Sure. Who’s playing tonight?”

“Jeffrey Combs, a music major from Western Hills College.”

A classy evening. My heart swelled with pride for my little mountain community. Philip would see hillbillies weren’t only about Uncle Fudd and Bubba pickin’ and grinin.’ Strange. Why would I care what he thought?

We rode through town past the shops and brick business offices, including Triville State Insurance Company, our tallest building at four stories. We started up the steep hill lined with oak and poplar trees when the classic car sputtered and bounced. I flew forward, braced myself when my hands hit the black vinyl dashboard, and looked at Philip. He’d probably never driven a car like this.

His eyes widened as he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Poor guy. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’ve ridden in this contraption before. It moves along on a level street. We could go back and eat in town.”

“Oh, no. The Blue Room sounds nice.” The vehicle surged and stalled. Philip floored the gas pedal. “How much farther? The last thing I need is another accident.” He clenched his jaw.

Lloyd’s “freebie” was enough to make an auto mechanic nervous on a steep grade. The trees and foliage looked pretty much the same no matter where we drove on the road. But spotlights on the house on the route lit up the night, and I knew its location. “We’re a little over halfway there.” Wanting to encourage him, I tried to sound upbeat.

“Good.”

What could I say to make this trip easier, give him something besides the near stops of the old muscle car to think about? “How’d you become a stockbroker?”

“My dad used to discuss stocks and bonds so often Wall Street permeated my dreams. When I graduated from college, I landed the job in New York City with Make More Money.”

The car popped and crept as though it might die any second. Philip pressed his lips tight, squared his jaw, and floor-boarded it. The car lunged forward.

I took a deep breath of relief. Philip was kind, and I suspected from his fine suit and expensive shoes, he was out of his culture zone. Driving the old car must’ve seemed awkward to him, but it appeared he intended to make the best of it. “It’s great you snagged the position you wanted and can enjoy the city. I’d never fit in there.”

Philip cut those sexy eyes toward me. “With your personality you could connect with anyone anywhere.”

I sucked in air and exhaled slowly to anchor myself to the car seat as my head floated toward the clouds.

He kept talking as though he had no idea he’d sent me reeling. “I’m interested in moving to Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island. George says he’ll consider letting me open a branch office there if I sign up Mr. Jacobsen.”

“Mr. Jacobsen’s that important?” If he were, Philip might come back here to call on him. Silly me.

“Yeah, he’s promised us a large investment and says he may increase it. His account would give our firm the boost it needs to expand.”

“Make More Money already seems like a large company.” Philip must have been awfully smart if Mr. Jacobsen’s business meant that much and they chose him to handle the account.

The car sputtered, bumped ahead and then ran smoothly.

Philip loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “Hmm. This incline is leveling out. I guess we’ll be OK now. What? Oh, yes, it’s nice-sized, but a brokerage firm, or any other company, for that matter, can’t have too much business.”

“Right.” I removed my hands from the dashboard as he pulled into a gravel lot on top of the mountain and parked in front of a tan stucco castle with a red roof.

Patrons in long dresses and fine suits emerged from luxury vehicles and sports cars as Philip slipped out and opened my door. A loud squeak pierced the night.

I gasped.

He flinched then looked at me, and we laughed.

In moments we entered a large room with a wall of screened casements. I couldn’t help but notice the hostess’s nicely-done French twist as she led us to a white, linen-draped table facing a baby grand piano.

A cool breeze from an opened window blew across my face, and my shoulders relaxed. Peace and contentment replaced the boredom and sorrow that had nagged me like a headache ever since Jordan died.

“It was worth the trip.” Philip pulled up a tan captain’s chair and sat back as a waiter appeared.

“How about spinach dip and two sweet teas?” Philip glanced at me.

“Sounds good.” I’d forgotten how going out lifted my spirits. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that I needed to take a break from the shop and enjoy a change of scenery. Did a nice looking guy have to ram his car through the wall of Eve’s Clips for me to see that?

The waiter nodded and returned with the order as the pianist took the stage and bowed.

“The baby grand is made from spruce trees that grew on these mountains.” I leaned forward and whispered to Philip.

“Very nice.”

Jeffrey flipped up the tails on his black tuxedo and sat down. The room grew quiet, and the scrape of the bench echoed as he pulled it up. He placed his long fingers on the keyboard and opened with Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto Number One.

The romantic melody and flickering candlelight sending soft hues across Philip’s finely chiseled features whisked me to a field of daisies touched by sweet sunlight where lovers met and dreams came true.

The classical music ended and a round of loud applause erupted from the audience.

Jeffrey took another bow then resituated himself. The soothing notes of a Ferrante and Teicher tune wafted through the room.

Philip’s eyes glinted with fascination.

Jeffrey concluded the first part of the concert with Debussy’s Clair de Lune then stood sporting a wide grin. “Thank you. I’ll take a brief intermission, but don’t go away.”

Chatter and the sound of clinking glasses filled the room as the patrons stirred.

“I think Jeffrey has a musical future,” I said.

“I agree. I’m glad you’re enjoying the concert.” Philip stuck a chip in the spinach dip and popped it in his mouth. “Hmm. That’s good. Have some.”

I reached for a serving as he sipped his tea. Moments such as these came and went with the blink of an eye, but I believed this one would etch a memory on my heart forever.

“You know, Lloyd’s car reminds me of an old beater I owned as a teen,” he said.

“What kind of car was it?”

“A light blue sports sedan, the snazziest vehicle I’d ever seen. My dad bought it for me from a neighbor.”

Philip seemed to have led a cushy life on a level I knew little about. “What do you do in New York in your spare time?” I scooped up more spinach dip.

“Nothing as tranquil as this. I have to go to Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island to kick back. How about you?”

Since Jordan died other than an occasional dinner out with friends, I’d worked, read, or watched something boring on television. Philip’s question forced me to think of the way things had been for Jordan and me. We took walks, went to plays in nearby Misty Gorge, and went out to nice restaurants. What was I thinking, telling myself I needed a change of scenery? I needed Jordan. This date was a bad idea. I wanted to go home. Tears rushed to my eyes. I blinked them back. “I uh...’’

“I bet you read magazines about hairstyles.”

Philip’s caring tone soothed my frayed nerves. I laid my napkin beside my plate. “Yes, that’s fun for me.” If only he hadn’t made me think of Jordan. My customers had told me I should go out, and I knew they meant the best for me, but there was no one for me but Jordan. I glanced at Philip. Maybe my clients were right. He wasn’t proposing. It was only a distraction for one evening and the company was great. I took a deep breath and relaxed in my seat.

Jeffrey returned and played several Bach church cantatas. Then he stood and pulled a small notepad out of his tuxedo jacket pocket. “While you enjoy a delicious dessert, please call out the titles of songs you like. We’ll end with a sing-along.”

His fingers flew across the pad as guests fired names while a waiter carrying a silver tray deposited a chocolate mousse by each place setting.

“These are great selections. Thanks for your enthusiasm.” Jeffrey flipped up the tails on his jacket, sat down, and pulled up the piano bench. Happy melodies filled the room as his fingers lightly tapped the keys making the tunes dance with his signature style. The audience’s voices grew louder and more enthusiastic with each song until finally he stopped, stood, and took a bow.

Philip and I rose from our seats and joined the wide-eyed men and women giving him a standing ovation. No wonder. By the time his performance ended, it had sent me soaring high above my hum-drum everyday life, and I was glad I’d agreed to go on this date.

When the clapping finally ceased, Philip guided me out amid a mix of fruity perfume and woodsy aftershave wafting from grand ladies and gentlemen. We slid into the old vehicle. He glanced at the key then me before he started the engine. But he drove down the mountain into a sleepy town with no hitches. Only the lampposts lining the streets lit the way for the old car, humming along on the level roads. I pinched myself to make sure this night wasn’t a dream as the pebbles in my drive crunched under the vehicle’s tires.

Philip parked, let me out of the passenger’s seat, and put his arm around my waist.

Warmth tingled over my skin as he escorted me to the door. His gaze searched my face as he pulled me close. He brushed his lips against mine, and Jordan popped in my head. I turned away, but Philip reached for me and kissed my cheeks. Then his lips found their way to mine. Ecstasy I hadn’t known since Jordan died and never thought I’d know again pulsed through my veins. He let go and brushed back my hair. “What about tomorrow?”

How much heartache would a sudden separation from the bliss I’d just experienced cause? The deeper Philip burrowed into my soul the more it would hurt when he left, but I yearned for the joy he brought. “Would you like to go to church?”

Philip let go and stared at me with wide, surprised eyes, but in a moment he said, “Yes.”

I put my hand on the doorknob. “It starts at eleven o’clock. If you pick me up, we’d better allow extra time for that thing to get up the hill.”

Philip chuckled. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.”

Jordan always told me I was a dreamer and shouldn’t get suckered by things too good to be true. How much could a person get suckered in a worship service?