Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster

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СКАЧАТЬ much escaped him, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d just been given the brush off by someone who was anxious to portray herself as something that she wasn’t.

      “No, you didn’t,” Tyra said to her sister. “Let me check with Maggie.”

      Tyra strode to the kitchen, her suspicions rising. “What’s going on here, Maggie? Did you get a look at Darlene? From head to foot, she looks the way she did ten years ago with her hair in a pony tail, no makeup, jeans that are too tight and sneakers. She didn’t leave here this morning looking like that.”

      Maggie didn’t seem concerned. She handed Tyra two bowls of cold mint-pea soup. “Here. Put those in Clark’s and Mr. Whitley’s plates. I’ll bring in yours, Darlene’s and mine.”

      She knew that Maggie’s nonchalance was her way of avoiding things. “Okay, but don’t you think Clark and Darlene are up to something?”

      Maggie’s withering look was not unusual. For years, she’d used it as a way to express her disapproval without saying a word. “What on earth could they be up to? You ever know Darlene to keep a secret? Clark’s too smart to be in cahoots with Darlene about anything that’s supposed to be a secret. After you take those bowls in, would you come back and cover that platter while I light the candles?”

      “Why don’t you cover the platter and I’ll light the candles? I don’t want to rearrange your handiwork,” Tyra said.

      She put the soup at each place setting and looked in the top drawer of the china cabinet for the lighter. When she couldn’t find it, she searched for a match. She lit two matches, both of which quickly burned out.

      “Let me do that for you.”

      She looked up at Byron Whitley, towering over her in a way that few men did. When he smiled and extended his hand for the matches, her left hand went to her chest as if to lower her heartbeat. He took the matches from her hand, lit the candles and asked her, “Would you go to dinner with me Sunday evening?”

      She wanted to say no. Indeed, she thought she was going to decline. Not because she didn’t like him, but because she did. And that was the problem. She didn’t know whether he liked her or knew that she was attracted to him and planned to take advantage of that fact.

      “Will you?” he urged.

      “I’d love to. Thank you.” Embarrassed because she’d agreed so readily. He raised an eyebrow, but she pretended that she didn’t see it.

      After Maggie said grace, Clark asked Darlene about her first day at work. “I think they were all being nice to me. I liked the orientation that Mr. Harris gave me.”

      “It was probably very thorough,” Byron said. “That firm knows its business. You’ve landed a good position. What area are you in?”

      “I’m in contracts.”

      “Good,” Byron said.

      With Tyra’s help, Maggie served dinner. She believed that serving one course after another made a meal more enjoyable. For dessert, they each got three heaping scoops of crème caramel.

      Byron tasted it, closed his eyes. “I’m never leaving this place. After a meal like this, I could sit here until it’s time for the next meal.”

      “Oh,” Tyra said, “I’m not sure I’d like to see roots growing from you.”

      Darlene giggled. “I doubt he’d grow the kind of roots you have in mind, Sis.”

      Her comment had a suggestive overtone. “What kind of roots do you think I have in mind?”

      “Let’s just say you’re not thinking of carrots.” Then, as if to dispel any misunderstanding, Darlene turned to Byron. “I’m out of line, but this is kind of funny.”

      Byron’s laugh shook his body. “She’s got your number, Tyra.”

      “Yeah,” Clark said. “She’s used to getting away with it. If Tyra sent her to her room, she’d stay there five minutes, come out, say she was sorry, hug Tyra and that would be the end of it.”

      “I’m not a pushover.” Tyra felt uncomfortable under Byron’s intense stare. “Let’s go into the living room and play some music,” she suggested, to break the tension.

      She and Darlene helped Maggie clear the table and clean the kitchen. “What are you up to, Darlene?” Tyra asked her.

      “Nothing. Just relaxing after a hard day’s work.”

      “Don’t make jokes, Darlene. I know you. And nothing’s going to convince me that you worked hard on your first day on the job. Nothing! Go in the living room and pick out some music, anything but hip hop.”

      “I don’t do hip hop any more, Sis. You’re way behind. I’m going upstairs for a minute.”

      Maggie put away the dish towel, removed her apron and looked at Tyra. “You didn’t have to come in here to help me clean up. Why you trying to avoid that man? I saw how he looked at you, and you saw it, too. He’s not wearing a ring, so what’s your problem?”

      “If you’re trying to shove me into his lap, you can forget it. I’m not about to throw myself at him.”

      “You’re not fooling me, Tyra. He’s gotten to you. You’re thirty-one years old, and men your age are getting married. So quit fooling yourself. Leave that tray here. I’ll take the coffee in. Find another excuse to avoid Mr. Whitley. If a man like him looked at me the way he was looking at you, I’d be in there where he could see me. I’m gonna have to sit you down and talk to you.”

      “All right.”

      Byron Whitley met her in the hallway. “Are you avoiding me? If you’re not interested, say so. I won’t be offended.”

      Well, you couldn’t get more direct than that. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I always help Maggie in the kitchen. She’s the housekeeper, but she’s been part of our family since we lost our parents in an automobile accident.”

      “And you became mother to Clark and Darlene, I presume.”

      “I did with a lot of help from Maggie, who’s been with our family since I was nine. She’s a widow now, and this is her home. What time do you want to have dinner Sunday?”

      “I’d like to pick you up at six-thirty. There’s a wonderful little restaurant I know in Buckeytown. It’s mainly Italian, but they serve great Maryland-style crab cakes.”

      “I…look forward to Sunday.”

      “Me, too,” he said without a trace of a smile. “Since you’re not avoiding me, let’s have some of that coffee I smell.”

      “It’s in the living room.” When did Maggie pass them with the espresso? Surely she hadn’t let the man fluster her to the point that she didn’t see what was going on around her. She got through the evening by focusing on the music, changing the CDs and finding music by performers that Byron and her family preferred. At the end of the evening she announced that breakfast would be served from seven СКАЧАТЬ