Male Order Bride (6 page)

"Am I supposed to call her back?" Lacey asked her manager.

"No, she'll be in Friday for the final fitting and said
that would be soon enough to talk to you. I told her you'd have
everything ready by then."

"Will I?" Lacey asked, looking at the three-piece suit she
had sketched for the going-away outfit, which was tacked on a pegboard
behind Jane's desk.

"You will," Jane confirmed, pouring a cup of coffee, which
she handed to Lacey. "Late yesterday afternoon I talked with the
seamstress and she said that everything but the lingerie is ready for
your approval."

Lacey nodded, pleased with Jane's efficiency. She had
always been able to second-guess Lacey. Lacey considered her a loyal
friend as well as employee, and had made her manager after just one
month's employment. The woman who was handling the trousseau was the
main seamstress Lacey relied on for her original designs. When they
were extremely busy she had three other seamstresses who helped out. All
were housewives who needed part-time jobs.

"I'll drive out to her house this afternoon," Lacey told
Jane, "and see how the trousseau is coming along." The seamstress, like
everyone else Lacey relied on, understood exactly what Lacey
wanted—placing ties and buttons and details exactly the way
Lacey's notes and sketches intended.

"That shipment—the one we've been waiting for
from New York—came in this morning," Jane told her, pouring a
second cup of coffee for herself. "It's all in the back room. I haven't
even wanted to think about unpacking it."

"Wait until your assistant comes in," Lacey suggested,
setting aside her coffee cup and picking up some of the invoices on
Jane's desk. "Then we'll all tackle it. Goes faster that way."

Jane nodded. "That's what I hoped you'd say, but I wasn't
certain what your plans were for this morning."

"No plans," Lacey answered, and smiled. She picked up the
coffee cup again and sat on the edge of the chair by Jane's desk. "With
the Bride-To-Be's designs behind me, I'm caught up. The next few weeks
should be nice. No deadlines, no schedules. I might be able to get some
daydreaming in and work out some of the ideas I've had in the back of
my head. I just haven't had any free time to do anything."

Jane stretched and yawned. "I guess the Atlanta trip is
coming at the best time. I can't remember the last time you didn't have
five jobs to juggle at once. I think what jammed everything up so much
was the buying trip to New York that came right after the new line
show, which happened right before the move. We could have handled each
one separately without too much problem."

Absentmindedly Lacey nodded. Maybe that was another thing
that had prompted her to mail the card to Rafe Chancellor. Life was
going to be more relaxed in the coming weeks. That would allow her to
fit a date or two into her schedule, provided he turned out to be a
worthwhile companion.

The bells on the front door jangled, announcing the
entrance of a customer. Jane looked at Lacey, who slipped off the chair
and said, "I'll go."

The morning dragged for Lacey. Each time the phone rang,
Lacey wanted to race to answer it. She held her breath on each call,
waiting to see if it were for her. But when it was, it was
business-related.

She left early for lunch, eager to see what Rafe had
mailed her today, and was disappointed to find nothing in her mail from
him. After lunch she drove over to see the seamstress and spent the
remainder of the afternoon making minor alterations in preparation for
the Bride-To-Be's viewing the next day. It was almost five when she
took note of the time and phoned the boutique to check on business and
to find out if there had been any urgent or intriguing calls for her.
Rafe Chancellor obviously hadn't phoned. Lacey told Jane she was
heading home, if anyone should want to reach her later by phone.

Lacey hurried into the shower as soon as she got home, and
hurried out again, not wanting to miss the phone if Rafe decided to
call her. He might just now be returning home from work to find her
card. She found some cream cheese and pulled two bagels out of the
freezer. That would hold her hunger down in case he offered dinner
later this evening. And if he didn't, she'd be living up to the
stunning and starving model image on the refrigerator door. Lacey
popped the two bagels into a tin pie plate and shoved it into the oven,
setting the temperature dial and the timer.

Now what could she do? It had to be something good so that
when he asked "What are you doing tonight?" she could say, "Tonight?
Oh, I'm working on a bronze of the Pieta," or, "Why, I was just
sitting down at my spinning wheel to spin some wool from my sheep in
the backyard." Anything but let him know the truth—she was
watching the phone, waiting for it to ring.

Lacey paced into the living room, looking for an
intellectual magazine or book to read. She could always casually
mention she was reading the latest issue of
National
Geographic
. The problem was, her taste this evening ran more
to
Seventeen
. Besides, she didn't feel like
reading anyway.

She could always polish the brass. That sounded
sophisticated, but it wouldn't take long with the two candlesticks she
owned. The same thing applied to her crystal.

The buzzer on the oven went off. Lacey jumped. Her initial
response to any sound was to expect it to be the telephone. She went
into the kitchen and took the bagels from the oven and brought them,
with the cream cheese, to the table. Lacey chose a chair at the table
that gave her a view of the phone. She tried to tell herself that a
telephone, like a watched pot never boiling, wouldn't ring if she
looked at it. But in this instance, after Rafe Chancellor's
persistence, she knew it was merely a matter of time before the phone
rang.

She spread the cream cheese over the warm bagel and turned
her back on the phone. She needed to rehearse what she would say when
he called. She wanted to give him the proper first impression of who
she was when he heard her voice. What first impression should she give
him? Enthusiasm to let him know how excited she was to have a date
after the past months of solid work?

Not too much enthusiasm, she decided, or he might get the
idea she was unable to get dates on her own. Maybe she should act
surprised, as if she had forgotten she had mailed back the card and
wasn't expecting anyone to call tonight. Gracious-ness, in her best
business voice, might produce the proper tone for a first meeting via
Ma Bell. But she didn't want him to get the impression she was stuffy
and all business, no play. True, she had acted that way lately, but
only because there had not been any better alternatives for investing
her time. And the business had demanded her full attention.

It had been hectic, but well worth it, she decided, taking
a bite of the bagel. If Rafe Chancellor turned out to be as exciting in
person as he seemed on paper, she might treat herself to a fling.
Nothing serious, just a break from the fast pace of the boutique,
especially now that the Bride-To-Be's designs were in the easy stage.

Lacey glanced over her shoulder at the clock. After six.
Surely he was home from work by now, no matter what his job entailed.
And he should have gotten his mail and read her reply by now. What if
the postcard had gotten lost in the volume of thicker and more
important pieces of mail traveling through the local post office? What
if he didn't get the card for a week or longer? Was she just going to
sit here eating bagels and cream cheese night after night, waiting for
the phone to ring?

Probably, Lacey decided, taking another bite from the
bagel. When it came right down to it, she didn't have anything better
to do.

She needed a hobby. She'd been telling herself that for
months, but hadn't yet made up her mind what it was she wanted to do.
There were times when she became so saturated with the boutique, buying
trips and hours of designing that she needed something to totally
divorce herself from the business. A hobby would come in handy on
nights like tonight when there were no phone calls.

Living so near the water, Lacey had considered taking
sailing lessons. But she had enough friends who had sailboats and
yachts and she had discovered she enjoyed being a passenger. It was
much better than being a sailor with the hassle of upkeep and ownership.

She did enjoy taking crabbing nets and dropping them from
the old causeway pier in the bay, but she had been too busy to spare a
day for that lately. Besides, it was always more fun when there was
company… and a picnic basket.

As much as she enjoyed the coastal views and walks in the
moonlight, she didn't like basting in the sun. She preferred tanning by
sitting in the sun sketching or playing volleyball on the sands with
friends. As a hobby, the sketching was too closely related to her
designs; and she hadn't even spared the time for get-togethers with
friends since the round of Christmas parties five months ago.

Lacey thought she would prefer an active hobby. She also
needed something more soothing to occupy her evenings. The stress of
the boutique often brought her to near-exhaustion. If he ever called,
she thought, glancing again at the phone as she finished the first
bagel, Rafe Chancellor might turn out to be a welcome diversion this
summer. She needed someone just long enough to fill the slack time she
would have before the fall-winter season.

There it was, the phone. Lacey hurriedly swallowed the
bagel she'd been chewing idly and got up from the table. What was she
going to say? She hadn't properly formed her greeting. Her heart raced
as she picked up the phone to say hello… and started
coughing when the bagel went down the wrong way.

Terrific first impression, she thought, and managed to
croak, "Hello."

"Lacey?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yes," Lacey said, laughing. She'd heard only her name
roll off his lips, but it was a nice voice, a voice she could easily
fall in love with. She laughed again and blurted out the first thing
that was on her mind. "You certainly have a novel approach."

"What? Calling you on the phone?" he asked. Lacey blushed.
It wasn't Rafe Chancellor. It was Dominick Maynor, the last man she had
fallen in love with and "trial-married", and then had "divorced" in a
wrenching manner two years ago when she realized he was never going to
change his wine, women and whining.

"You could have sent flowers," she said, hoping he
wouldn't realize she had thought he was someone else.

"I didn't think you liked flowers."

She didn't, not the way he sent them—whenever he
was feeling guilty because there'd been another woman in his life. The
flowers had always been followed by tender affection, sometimes for
blissful days on end. But eventually his honesty won over his sense of
"protection" of her and he would confess he'd been with a new woman.
Lacey eventually learned that roses represented heartache. She closed
her eyes now, remembering the most painful memories of their time
together, and wondered how she had put up with his dual romancing as
long as she had. "It depends on who's sending the flowers, whether or
not I like them," Lacey answered.

He chuckled, that deep rich laugh she had once so loved.
"Maybe I should start sending them again," Dominick suggested.

"No, thank you," Lacey said crisply. "Someone else is
doing the job quite adequately."

"Oh?" The timbre of his voice deepened. Lacey wondered if
he was jealous. In all the time she had lived with him and endured his
affairs, trying to cope with his boys-will-be-boys attitude, she had
never once been unfaithful to him. It had probably been because he had
given her permission for promiscuity. It was allowed, he had reasoned,
because they weren't really married. Theirs was only a trial live-in
arrangement. Each time he came back to her, it was with the statement
"I still haven't found anyone I'd rather live with."

Lacey had tried to change him at first. Then she had
learned to accept it. Finally she had decided it was not worth the
emotional hassle to live on this roller coaster of highs and lows,
especially when the lows became more frequent and more sustained.

Finally she had gotten the courage to leave him. It had
taken her months to make the move after she had made the decision. But
once she had walked away and begun to rebuild her life, she had felt
free for the first time since she had met him. It hadn't come from a
lover's permission to take other lovers. She realized now that would
only have given him an excuse for his affairs. Her freedom had come
from within. She was free from another person's influence, free to
develop her own ideas. She discovered she liked living alone, although
there were times when she missed the company of a man. In the back of
her mind she couldn't erase the image of one day being a housewife with
a brood of children.

Lacey didn't talk about Rafe Chancellor for Dominick's
benefit. She let him feel a little of the isolation and rejection his
affairs had caused. "Why are you calling?" she asked.

"Just thinking about you," he said.

She frowned. He had done this in the past, calling
periodically to bring himself up-to-date with the latest events in her
life. She usually told him, too, letting him know in subtle ways she
was a success without him. She suspected those bouts of phone calls
probably coincided with more broken love affairs; whenever Dominick
felt lonely, for some reason he always returned to Lacey.

Or tried to, she reminded herself. Since her break with
him she had no longer felt inclined to see him and always turned down
his offers of dinner or lunch. Just talking to him on the phone
depressed her. She wondered again how she could ever have fallen in
love with such a shallow person.