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Brad picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. It was freezing outside, and he’d forgotten to bring his lunch, so it was time to make the punishing trek from the front doors of the Ledger, to the warm, steamy interior of Mama Wong’s Chopstix Heaven, two blocks down on Main.
He shouldered through the revolving door in the lobby and was hit immediately with an icy blast. He dug his hands into his pockets and put his head down against the wind.
He got about halfway there, and had to wait at a street crossing for the light to change. There was a jewelry store on the corner, just a little hole in the wall, really, but the display in the window caught his eye.
There was a delicate diamond ring glittering under a spotlight. It was tiny, elfin, and as it turned back and forth on a revolving stand, it threw off sparks of pure white light.
Brad stared at it, and kept staring, even after the light changed. But when the people waiting beside him started to move, he followed quickly. It was too cold to window shop.
Brad crossed the windy street, dove into the restaurant on the other side, and was glad when the heavy doors of Mama Wong’s closed behind him. Warmth and noise reached out and enveloped him. He followed the waitress to a booth in the back, pulled out his smart phone, and settled in.
The waitress soon reappeared with warm coffee and a menu, and he ordered a big bowl of noodle soup and a platter of Mongolian beef. The girl took his menu and disappeared.
Brad checked his messages, searching for a call from a Lancaster County prefix, but there was none. He sighed and scrolled back up to the top.
Junk, junk, spam. More spam, junk, one laughable email from an English “estate lawyer,” a threatening message from Delores.
He backed up and read that one.
Brad, I don’t know why you’re evil with Eddie, but if you send him out to take photos of a sewage treatment plant, you’d better have a good reason next time, or it’s coming out of your paycheck.
He grinned and scrolled down further. More spam, a magazine article he’d never read, and – an email from Sheila. His brows went up. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again.
The waitress returned with the soup and the platter. She set them on the table in front of him. They looked delicious, and they were fragrant of soy sauce, shallots and braised beef. Brad turned off the phone and turned his attention to his lunch.
A few minutes later, after he’d taken the edge off his hunger, his mind began to wander again. To Jemima, as it inevitably did, when there wasn’t some other urgent interruption.
He wondered what she was doing at that moment, and wished for the thousandth time that he could call her, but she’d refused to accept a cell phone, refused even to use one. Some silliness about being connected to the world. Which, apparently, was a mortal sin.
He frowned. The cell phone was a small thing, but it was one more disturbing sign that he was in trouble. It was a reminder that every time Jemima had to choose between him and her religion – he lost.
He pulled his mouth to one side. Out of all the women in the world, he had to fall in love with the most religious one. It was maddening. He’d met nuns who were more liberal than Jemima.
His expression softened. But Jemima was also the most beautiful girl on the planet, and the sweetest. And – she really loved him. Even if she hadn’t told him so, he would’ve known. He could tell.
He could feel it.
He took a sip of coffee. He was ready to make his next move, but he had to go carefully. He was at a disadvantage in many ways: he was from the wrong culture, he held the wrong beliefs, he had the wrong career, and probably had the wrong personality thrown into the pot, too – just for good measure.
He shouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance with a girl like Jemima. But somehow, miraculously, he did. And he didn’t intend to waste that chance.
He patted his lips with his napkin, motioned for the waitress and paid his bill.
He was going to go back to Lancaster County, red roses in hand, and pitch Jemima like he’d never pitched anyone in his life. Harder than he’d pitched the college admissions board, harder than he’d pitched Delores...harder than he’d even pitched Jemima before.
He was going to make love to her eyes, to her mind, to her heart. He was going to make the best pitch he’d ever made in his life – the best case a man ever made to a woman.
Because he was going in with two strikes against him – and he knew it.
He put his card back into his wallet, turned up the collar on his coat, and shouldered out through the restaurant’s big double doors. He walked to the corner and waited, shivering, until the light changed.
He paused for a moment in front of the jewelers’, looked at the delicate ring sparkling in the window – and then walked inside.
