Chapter Seven

Vance drove home, gripping the steering wheel tighter than he needed to and with his AC on full blast. He needed to cool down. He looked at the jacket on the passenger seat Greta had accidentally left it in his car. He then glanced at the souvenir she had given him. He'd hung it on his rearview mirror. She was back in his life and it felt good--too damn good. His mood dipped as he thought about Cordell's visit and shopping for rings. He didn't know why he couldn't just settle on one. He knew Sylvie would like whatever he picked out for her.

A smiled touched his mouth as he remembered Greta asking the jeweler to get them the rings they wanted to look at. She didn't care about the surprised glances sent her way, she carried herself as if she were the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. During their picnic at the fountain he'd been fascinated about her work as Senior Physicist at the Environmental Protection Agency and knew she'd worked hard to get there. She was genuine and real. Yes, it had been light and easy fun until she'd pretended to be Sylvie, and given him a nickname.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She was going to Rhode Island for two weeks and he missed her already. Maybe that was how it was with a new friendship. He hit the steering wheel and swore. Who the hell was he fooling, he liked her. A lot more than he should. Twice, at the fountain, he'd wanted to touch her cheek when the wind blew her hair into her face. He liked the smell of her lotion and felt himself respond when she brushed against him, in the jewelry store, and wrapped her fingers around his arm, pretending to be his girlfriend.

Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? Why did he feel this way? He'd finally gotten his life exactly the way he wanted. He worked for a booming business, had important clients, good friends, a sexy girlfriend and the car he'd always dreamed he would have and yet... And yet he felt restless, as if something was missing. But what could be missing? He'd worked hard to bury the boy he’d been to become the man he was. The boy Greta remembered. God what was wrong with him? Why had he been so happy to see her again? Why had her nickname touched him deep to the core? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

Vance turned up the radio and rolled down his window.

It was no big deal. He just admired her. He admired her courage and spirit. He liked that she hadn't made fun of his love of fountains and had bought him a plant for his office. He even liked how she handled her mother. It amazed him that no matter how coarse or cutting her mother was, she deflected whatever she said with a nonchalance that amazed him. She'd done the same in school. She'd responded to taunts as if they were as important as gnats. It had amazed him that words that would have infuriated him didn't bother her.

That was it. He had a new friend he admired. He had a terrific girlfriend, and a great life. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it.

When he got home Vance found Sylvie painting her toe nails in the living room. He bent down and kissed her.

"You're late. Long day?"

"No, a friend took me to see this amazing fountain. I'd like to take you there this weekend."

"Where?"

"It’s The McMillian Fountain."

"Where is it?"

"In the Bloomingdale neighborhood."

"Oh, no. Are we back to that again?" She shook her head and chuckled. "I'd thought you'd gotten over your fountain craze. I remember you used to talk about all the fountains you'd love to visit, and how you plan to have one in our house one day."

Vance’s good mood faded. "It's not a craze. Fountains are just things I find beautiful."

Sylvie fluttered her eyes at him. "So I'm not beautiful enough?"

He forced a smile. "Yes, I just...never mind."

She wiggled her toes. "Do you like this color? I think it's too light. I think I'll have to start over."

"It's fine."

"Or maybe I'll just go and get a professional pedicure." She put the nail polish aside.

"Sylvie, please let me take you there," he said. He desperately wanted to feel the same way he did with Greta, with her. He lightly touched her cheek. "You'll like it. We can have a picnic."

She kissed him on the cheek then stood. "If you really want to take me out, you need to think of some place more romantic." She slipped into a pair of pink flip-flops, turned and left.

***

He was getting married. She had to remember that. She was just his friend. That's all he saw. Greta put her clarinet away and sighed. She'd called him Bartie. She must have sounded like an idiot. She clicked her clarinet case closed. The rehearsal had gone well tonight, but she hadn't been as focused as she usually was. Going to Rhode Island was a blessing. She needed space from him. She'd proven her grandmother right, and made herself miserable.

"So what's his name?"

Greta turned to Joan Anderson, an older woman with honeyed skin, slick red hair and cat glasses who played first clarinet. "I'm sorry?"

"You were distracted tonight. I doubt it's work so it must be a man."

"We're just friends. I met him at my class reunion." Sort of.

"What does he do?"

"He's a contractor."

Joan laughed. "No, really, what does he do?"

"I just told you."

"He's a contractor?"

"Yes, he's very successful."

"I didn't expect that for you. I thought you'd find someone who would be more your intellectual equal. I know it's hard to find many black American men of our caliber, and that's why I don't limit my scope."

"I'm not limiting anything. I really like him and he's smart. Besides, as I said, we're just friends. He's engaged."

Her friend began to smile. "He's cute, isn't he?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that would explain why you’d be with someone less educated than you. We'll see if it lasts. Have your fun, but I guarantee you'll get bored."

Greta held up her hand. "Let me say this slowly: We. Are. Just. Friends."

"But you really like him. Have you told him?"

"I'm sorry, did you or did you not hear me tell you he's engaged."

"How long?" Joan asked.

"He's going to ask her soon. We went ring shop--"
"He took you shopping for rings?"

"Because I'm his friend. It's what friends do."

"Or maybe he's just clueless."

"You're being a snob."

"Says the woman who gets her love advice from her grandmother."

"She's a good judge of character." Greta knew that Joan didn't know anything about her background and she had only briefly mentioned Minnie telling her to go to the reunion, she kept that information to herself. She didn't want anyone privy to the drama of her life. At work she could be somebody else. She could pretend she went on family vacations to Vermont every spring, and took trips to the beach in the summer. She'd started pretending in college, never revealing what her family was really like. Her parents had divorced, her mother struggled as a single mother and, that was all she would share. She liked to listen to others tell about their extended family, three cars, charge cards and weekend trips to their cabins, lives that all seemed so foreign to her.

"Would he come to something like this?" Joan said, referring to one of their performances.

Probably not. "I don't need him too." She closed her case and stood. "Excuse me."

Joan was a good wake up call, Greta thought as she left. She and Vance did create an odd pair. It could never be something more than a simple friendship, he knew it and she did too. She would come back from Rhode Island, see the engagement ring on Sylvie's finger and realize that she had to accept that her life would never be that.

Greta was walking to her car when her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"I want to stop by and give you back your jacket."

She'd totally forgotten about it. She could tell him to keep it until after her trip. She shouldn't see him again, but instead of listening to her rational mind, her heart took over. "Okay. I'll be home in about an hour. See you then." She disconnected then ran to her car, knowing she only needed twenty minutes to get home, but she wanted to be prepared. Just one more day then she'd fall back down to earth.

***

Vance stood outside Greta's door and took a deep breath before he knocked. He should have waited until after her trip, but he'd wanted to see her before she left and he had to get rid of her jacket. He'd placed it in the trunk, but it didn't stop him from thinking about her. This was the only way to create the distance he needed.

She opened the door with a bright smile. "Hi, come in."

He stepped inside, knowing he should have just given her the jacket and left.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Juice would be fine."

Greta took the jacket from him and hung it up in the closet. "Just sit down and I'll be right back," she said, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Vance sat down and saw that her clarinet was out and a music book open. "You were practicing?" he asked, when she handed him his drink.

"Yes. I wasn't my best at rehearsal tonight."

He stood and walked over to her music stand. "It's a beautiful instrument."

Greta picked it up so he could have a closer look. "Thank you." She ran her fingers lightly over it. "I really saved up for it. Most of my life I had to play on plastic ones until I was able to afford wood. The detailing is amazing."

"I can see that."

"Go sit down, and I'll play something for you."

Vance returned to his seat and Greta adjusted the stand and grabbed a chair, then sat down. She flipped through her music book and selected a song. She licked her lips, forcing Vance to focus on her mouth. He watched her as she moistened the tip of the clarinet.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, feeling oddly turned on. "What are you doing?"

"I have to get the reed wet enough, it gets dry quickly."

Vance watched her wet the reed and soon all he could think about was her warm, wet tongue wetting him then giving him a good blow just as she was about to do to the clarinet. He jumped up, startling her. "Sorry, I've got to go," he said looking at his watch instead of her shocked expression. "I just remembered something."

"Okay," Greta said, quickly recovering from his abrupt change. She followed him to the door. "I'll play for you another time then."

No, he'd never let that happen. Vance opened the door and raced to his car. "Have a safe trip," he called over his shoulder, knowing the situation was too dangerous to look back.

***

Somehow she'd failed again. Greta closed her front door and returned her clarinet to its case. What had happened? At first he’d sounded eager to have her play, then the next moment he was running out of her house. Maybe he was afraid she was going to play a classical piece he couldn't recognize and be bored to death. Perhaps Joan was right. She should try to get a man who would appreciate music. Someone she could play for and who would attend her orchestra performances.

Maybe Vance really had to do something else he'd forgotten about. Greta wanted to believe him, but she didn't. She put her clarinet case and music stand aside. All the signs were there. He had another life that didn't involve her. She would go to Rhode Island and let her foolish feelings run their course and then be sensible again.

She heard a car door slam then giggling. Greta looked out the window and saw her mother and Terrell making out against his car. In seconds they would look indecent; she knew her mother was brazen enough to make love to a man on the hood of his car. Greta grabbed her keys, pointed them in the direction of her car in the driveway and turned the alarm on. They immediately pulled apart.

"Oh, sorry," Greta said, rushing to her car. She jumped inside and turned the alarm off. She got out of the car and nodded at Terrell, wondering what trouble he was involved with. "Hi."

He nodded back, but Rita ignored her and gave him one last lingering kiss then drew away. "See you later, baby."

Terrell slapped her butt then got into his car and drove away.

Rita walked up to the house. "You're home early."

"No, you're just late."

Once inside, Rita set her purse on the coffee table and sat in front of the TV then sniffed the air. She turned to Greta. "You had a man here, didn't you?"

She froze. "What?"

Rita grinned, then sniffed the air some more. "I can always tell a man's cologne. And this man smells good."

"It was just someone returning my jacket."

"See, you should have been putting a jacket on him and getting yourself some."

Greta sighed. "Condoms and sex. Your level of interests astounds me."

"Don't be getting into a mood because you're sad and lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Greta said going to her room. But she was sad.

***

A week later, Vance returned to the office, after a hectic day submitting bids on three different lucrative projects. He sank in his chair and opened the drawer where Sylvie's ring sat. He picked up the small jewelry box and opened it. He was pleased with his purchase; a ring, with a thin band made of white gold, with diamonds surrounding a brilliant emerald stone. Greta would like the colors. He smiled at the thought of showing her. But the ring wasn't for her. Vance snapped the box closed and shoved it back in the drawer.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the number then picked up. "Hello?"

"I'm sending you a photo," Greta said. "Tell me what you think,"

Vance looked at the picture of the Court of Neptune Fountain in DC. "Wow that's incredible."

"I know. I was browsing the internet and I saw it and immediately thought of you. I dug up these pictures I took when I was there. It’s a great fountain to see in person, up close. I wish you could see it for real."

"Me too." He wished he was there with her.

"You and Sylvie have to make plans to go there one day. I'm sending you some more pictures."

Vance looked at another picture of Greta sitting at the base of the fountain. He barely noticed the fountain--all he focused on was her. He traced her smile with his finger then he noticed how her top dipped low and he could see her cleavage. Her skin looked so smooth and soft. He still remembered the scent of her skin. He felt himself grow hard. He'd had the same response when they'd been in the jewelry store, and when she was getting ready to play her clarinet. He swore. He didn't just want to be with her. He wanted her.

"Did you get them?" she asked.

Vance rubbed his face, feeling torn. He loved hearing her voice and he didn't want their conversation to end, but it had to stop. "Yes, I have to go."

"What's wrong?"

He picked up a pencil one by one, and dropped them back into their holder. "Nothing."

"Friends are supposed to be honest with each other, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you lying to me?"

Vance briefly closed his eyes, searching for the right response. He really had to get off the phone, he just couldn't tell her why. "I bought Sylvie's ring."

"Are you nervous that she won't like it?"

He'd never been nervous asking a woman for anything. "Hmm."

"You'll be fine. Let me tell you what's going to happen. You're going to show her the ring and she's going to cry with joy and then," her voice cracked and her words died away.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said in a voice too bright to be genuine.

Vance felt his heart pick up speed and he tightened his grip on the phone, wondering if she felt the same attraction he did. There was something in her voice he hadn't heard before. "And then what?" he asked in a soft tone.

"You'll get married and be very happy. Now, I'll let you go. Bye."

"Bye."

Vance tossed his phone down, depressed and annoyed with himself for feeling so. What the hell had he expected her to say? He stood and paced the room. He glanced at the corner where he'd removed the large potted plant she'd given him. He'd taken it out of his office and put it in his apartment. Every time he looked at it, he remembered the day she'd brought it to him. The day she'd come back into his life. He rested the flat of his hands on his desk and took a deep breath. This wasn't good. He knew he was in trouble.

***

Greta was glad to be home. It had been a grueling trip, but she had to admit, she'd missed Vance. The two weeks hadn't lessened her feelings for him as she'd hoped. She'd almost given herself away on the phone when she was talking to him about the engagement ring he bought for Sylvie. But she'd pressed to find out what was wrong with him. She could tell, by his voice, that something was bothering him and he'd shared the truth: He loved his girlfriend so much he was nervous about asking her to marry him, afraid she'd say no. He didn't seem the type to have that kind of anxiety, but why would he lie about it?

Greta knew then what her next step would be. She had to meet Sylvie. She had to see Vance and Sylvie together so that she could see the love and commitment between them. It would be painful, but she had to face the truth. She'd invite Vance and Sylvie over for lunch and then never call him again. Staying friend would be too painful. Greta took her luggage out of her trunk and walked up the steps to her front door. She put her key in the lock and turned the door knob. She opened the door and screamed.