This Matter Of Marriage (10 page)

A
s it happened, Hallie didn't have a chance to talk face-to-face with Donnalee until Sunday afternoon, and by that time she'd managed to collect herself. Mark Freelander had taught her a valuable lesson.

“I can't believe a guy would
do
something like that,” Donnalee murmured, for the third time, her expression stunned as Hallie relayed the sordid details.

Hallie sat cross-legged on the sofa. She tilted her bowl and scooped up the last of the melted double-fudge macadamia-nut ice cream, then licked the back of her spoon. “Believe it. I don't think I've ever been angrier.”

“Did you lose your cool? I can't blame you, but you're usually so calm in a crisis. I've always admired that about you.”

“I barely raised my voice,” Hallie said. “It wasn't until later that I completely lost it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Check out my freezer,” Hallie said, motioning with her head to the kitchen.

“Your freezer?” Donnalee's eyes widened.

“Peek inside and you'll know what I mean.”

Donnalee went into the other room and opened the upper half of Hallie's refrigerator. A moment later Hallie heard her friend laugh. She knew it was because the entire front was stacked with ice-cream containers, one on top of the other, four across. “What did you do, buy out the store?” Donnalee said, returning to the living room.

“That's exactly what I did. The five-gallon container wouldn't fit in my freezer, so I bought Baskin-Robbins's entire supply of double-fudge macadamia-nut in one-quart containers. And that isn't all.” She gestured at the fireplace mantel. “Did you happen to notice my trophy?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. When did you take up bowling?”

“I haven't, but I filled in for Steve's sister, and we took third place in a tournament yesterday.”

“You and Steve took third place! That's wonderful!” The admiration was back in Donnalee's voice—or was it amazement? Well, Hallie had to admit she was pretty amazed herself. “I didn't know you bowled that well,” Donnalee added.

“I didn't, either,” Hallie said, and smiled to herself. Steve had been no less surprised. Friday night when they'd gone out to practice, she hadn't scored more than a hundred points in any of the three games they'd played. But during the tournament she'd averaged more than 160 points a game. If she had to credit anyone with this sudden turnaround, it was Mark Freelander.

Her anger had carried over to the following day, and it seemed as if she couldn't do anything wrong on the alley. She was much more focused than she'd been in her few previous attempts at sports. Maybe it came from imagining Mark's face on every one of those pins. She suspected Steve wasn't pleased with the amount of attention she'd attracted from his friends and competitors, but he didn't say anything. He'd been thrilled, however, when they took third place and was kind enough to let her keep the trophy.

“What's with you and your neighbor?” Donnalee asked, settling down on the big overstuffed chair.

“With us? Nothing. We're friends.” Hallie dismissed the question, hard-pressed to put into words her relationship with Steve. “He's a great guy, you know, but he's hung up on his ex-wife.”

“You've had a steadier relationship with him in the last couple of months than you have with anyone. And he
is
single.”

It was true. She'd gone out with him and his children more consistently than anyone, except maybe Mark. But she wasn't romantically interested in Steve. Knowing how obsessed he was with his ex-wife, Hallie had never really considered her neighbor “available.” He was exactly what she'd told Donnalee—a friend.

“Ever thought about getting together with him?” Donnalee suggested in a way that implied the idea should have been obvious. “Friends are supposed to make the best lovers.”

“Nope,” Hallie answered. “I like Steve, don't get me wrong, but he's not my type.”

“Do you have a type?”

“Sure,” Hallie answered casually. “Don't we all?”

Donnalee lowered her eyes. “I suppose. Tell me, what's your type?”

Hallie had given this a good deal of thought, mulled over the perfect man in her mind. “Well,” she began, “I'm not necessarily looking for someone tall, dark and handsome—although I wouldn't rule him out if he was. As long as he met my other qualifications.” She dropped her bare feet to the floor and rubbed her hand down her jeans. “Looks are nice, but frankly, I've discovered they're not all that important.”

“I agree,” Donnalee murmured.

“I want a man who'll love me, who'll appreciate me for the woman I am,” Hallie said thoughtfully. “Someone generous and honest. A man of integrity, who values family and commitment. I suppose I'd want him to be a risk-taker, but not foolish enough to jeopardize what's important.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Hallie repeated. “What's that mean?”

Donnalee wore the skeptical look of a banker when the numbers don't add up. “Does such a man really exist?”

“Of course. There are men like that. Lots of them.” Hallie
had
to believe that, or she'd give up hope of ever getting married. She stood, taking the empty ice-cream bowl to the kitchen. “It was easy for you,” she said as she returned.

“Easy?”

“To find the perfect man. You met Sanford, and that was that.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I can't help being a little envious.” At one time, she'd assumed it would be that easy for her, too. It sounded a bit conceited in light of her recent failures, but she'd viewed herself as, well, something of a prize. She still did—despite Mark's parting insult…. She was creative, outgoing, intelligent. She had her own business, was fairly attractive, financially solvent. No emotional baggage from a previous marriage, either.

Donnalee had gone strangely quiet. “How are things with you two, anyway?” Hallie asked.

“Great. We've decided to shop for an engagement ring next weekend.”

Hallie couldn't believe Donnalee hadn't said something sooner—but then, she hadn't given her friend much of a chance. The moment Donnalee arrived, Hallie had launched into her sad and sorry tale of Mark Freelander.

“That's wonderful! Congratulations.”

Donnalee smiled, but Hallie noticed that the joy that should have shone in her eyes was missing. Did Donnalee feel nervous about making this commitment, or what?

“You
are
happy, aren't you?” Hallie asked.

“Of course. Who wouldn't be?”

“Oh, Donnalee, you're going to be married.” Hallie felt almost giddy. “I'm thrilled for you. Sanford's wonderful. I like him a lot.” They'd met briefly a few weeks earlier, and she'd definitely been impressed. With good reason. Just looking at him made the backs of her knees sweat. The guy was gorgeous. A hunk. And he obviously adored Donnalee.

Hallie's mood changed swiftly and she flopped down on the sofa. “I'm taking a reprieve from this whole dating thing,” she announced solemnly.

“But, Hallie, it's too early to throw in the towel.”

“I'm not quitting, exactly. I feel like I need to step back and analyze what I'm doing. Adjust my attitude. Regroup. Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way.”

“Don't give up on Dateline,” Donnalee said. “And what about having Steve set you up with a friend of his?” she suggested. “Really, it makes sense.”

Hallie gave that a moment's thought, then shook her head. It was just too demeaning to ask Steve to scrounge up a date for her. If he'd
offered
to introduce her to a friend, that would be different. But he hadn't, and she wasn't going to ask.

Besides, after meeting Rita's “perfect” man, Hallie had serious reservations about letting her friends arrange blind dates for her. You never knew what type of person they might consider suitable dating material. Although, granted, Rita had been shocked by Marv's behavior and apologized profusely.

“Personally,” Donnalee said, “I think you and Steve would make a good couple. You like him, and you're always talking about his kids.”

“Forget it,” Hallie said, rejecting the idea with a wave of her hand. “It would be like hanging out with my brother. If I had a brother. I can't even
imagine
kissing him. No romance.”

“You're sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.” Steve's longing for Mary Lynn was unmistakable. Hallie had never seen a guy so much in love with the woman who'd divorced him. “Anyway,” she added, “I told you how he feels about his ex.”

Donnalee nodded slowly. “Okay, but the least you can do is make him your ally. Steve could be an excellent resource for you, give you a few hints, maybe teach you a little bit about men, what they're looking for and so on.”

Now that was good thinking—the kind of thinking that made Donnalee so successful in business. Evaluate the circumstances, identify resources, then use them. Yes. Hallie wondered why it had never occurred to
her.

She smiled, and Donnalee's eyes brightened. “Great. Talk to him tomorrow—and quit being so hard on yourself.”

 

Hallie wanted insider information from Steve Marris, and she'd come to get it.

After work Monday night she'd given him plenty of time to shower and have his dinner before she'd walked across their connecting yards and rung his doorbell.

He looked mildly surprised to see her. “Come on in,” he said, gesturing toward his living room. Hallie had never been in his place before; one glance told her he hadn't put a lot of effort into decorating. The walls were practically bare, although the fireplace mantel was crowded with sports trophies. Not a look she favored.

She noticed the photograph of his wife and kids prominently displayed on the big-screen television. Noticed? She could hardly miss it. The TV was the visual focus of the room, and his furniture, the little she saw, was plain. Utilitarian. Sofa, chair, coffee table, lamp. He seemed to view living here as a temporary thing.

“I need your help,” she said, figuring he'd appreciate it if she came right to the point of her visit.

“Another loan?” he asked, smirking. He sat on the chair across from her, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

“No.” She didn't find the question humorous, even if he did. “As you know, I'm hoping to find a husband, settle in suburbia, have a couple of kids. Live happily ever after.”

“You haven't exactly made a secret of that.”

“Right. Well, after my recent failures—Mark Freelander, most notably—I've been forced to give serious consideration to my…approach.”

“And?” He looked wary, suspicious, as if he feared she was going to propose something he wasn't going to like.

“And I realize I've made a fundamental mistake. All along I've looked at a potential husband for what
he
could bring to a partnership. Is he intelligent, kind, financially solvent, a man of integrity—those sorts of things.”

“That's wrong?”

“No, not wrong. But in retrospect I see that, as well as looking at what a man can give
me,
I should examine what
I
have to offer a relationship.”

“Oh.” He settled against the back of the chair. “Like what?”

“Basically the same things. Intelligence, integrity, et cetera. What I need to know is how to present myself in the best light.”

“You think being who you are isn't enough?” He frowned.

“I need an edge.”

“An edge?”

“You know, a gimmick.”

The frown deepened. “This is where I come in?”

“Exactly.” She was glad she didn't have to spell it out. “Actually Donnalee was the one who had this idea, and she's right. If I'm going to be open enough to admit I'm looking for a committed relationship, then I need an edge. Something that'll attract the attention of the kind of man I want to meet.”

Steve didn't respond.

“Something that'll give me an advantage—that'll tell him who I am and what I want without scaring him off. Men don't like the idea of commitment. It terrifies them.” She shook her head. “Fifty-three million men in the world, and only twelve of them are serious about a permanent relationship.”

“I hate to admit it, but you're right.”

“I feel I have to be up-front because I can't afford to waste time in a dead-end situation with some guy who'd rather play house. I want it all and I want it yesterday.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Steve asked.

“It's simple.” She noticed that his shoulders relaxed when she said this. “All I need you to do is tell me what a man
really
wants in a woman he intends to marry. The first thing he's going to look for.”