Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster

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СКАЧАТЬ helped Tyra into the front passenger’s seat of his Cadillac. Once she had fastened her seat belt, he closed the door, walked around the car and got in. Not bad, Tyra thought.

      “I like the way you look. You’re…well…very special. You’re beautiful and elegant.”

      A grin formed around her lips, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt like teasing him. “I wouldn’t call you beautiful, Byron. There are other words that describe you. But you’re elegant, and thank God, you’re tall. Oh, and I like the way you look.”

      Laughter rolled out of him. “I noticed that you Cunninghams like to pull a guy’s leg. Clark’s good at it, and Darlene’s a prankster. I hope you’re more sober-minded.”

      “You don’t like jokesters?”

      “I didn’t say that. And I warn you I can give as good as I get.”

      She settled back in the comfort of the Cadillac’s soft leather seat and crossed her legs. “I’m no slouch, either.”

      They arrived at the restaurant, a rustic setting that she thought would probably be cozy and even more romantic in the winter when the stone fireplace sparkled with a roaring fire. White lace curtains with red tiebacks graced the windows, and offered relief to the red-brick walls. White linen tablecloths and napkins, white candles and long-stem goblets adorned the round tables that were designed to seat two or four. A bowl of white and pink lisianthus sat in the center of each table.

      “Byron, this is so…beautiful. Thank you for choosing this restaurant. I imagine it’s even more idyllic in winter when it’s cold.”

      He sat across from her and smiled as if trying to put her at ease. But, his smile had the opposite effect. It rattled her composure. He spoke softly. “What a lovely picture you painted. You wouldn’t happen to be an artist, would you?”

      Her gaze drifted from his remarkable eyes to his wrist and hands. His fingers were long and appeared strong. How would they feel on her body?

      “Do you paint?” he asked again.

      Get a hold of yourself, girl. “Yes, I suppose I do. I make stained-glass art. I would love to make stained-glass windows for a modern-design church. I have all kinds of ideas, but I’m not good enough yet to carry them out.”

      “I paint with watercolors. I’ve used oils, but I prefer water colors, because I think they’re best for the landscapes and seascapes that I do. I also play the piano. I’m pretty good at that.”

      She sat forward. “You are? Gosh, I envy you. I’d give anything to play the piano. I’d settle for any instrument. I just want to play music. I love music. You’re…why are you looking at me that way?”

      “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’d never want to do that. So many things were flying around in my mind just then. It’s amazing that we have so many interests in common.”

      “Would you care for drinks, sir?” the waiter said, interrupting the conversation.

      Byron looked at her. “What would you like?”

      “Something light…and safe.”

      “I’m glad to know that you trust me.” He turned to the waiter. “Please bring her a Chardonnay spritzer, and bring me the wine list.”

      They ordered their meals. Tyra was sure that she enjoyed the dinner but she hardly remembered tasting it.

      “I take it you don’t eat much?”

      “I do, I’m just a little overwhelmed. If I took a doggie bag, it would be gone in fifteen minutes.”

      “I’m not sure I should ask what overwhelms you, but I’d certainly like to know.”

      “The ambiance got me when we walked in. And of course, there’s you.”

      He swallowed heavily, and his face darkened in a frown. “I guess it wouldn’t be nice of me to ask what you meant by that last part.”

      “Thanks, because I’m not sure I could explain it. The food was wonderful. I’m glad you brought me here.”

      “It’s a beautiful evening,” he said. “The sun sets late in mid-June. Would you like to drive through Sugarloaf?”

      Tyra would say yes to most anything that would prolong her time with him. The man exuded charm. But in her experience, anything presented on a silver platter should be carefully examined. She’d do that. But in the meantime, she’d find a man without anyone’s assistance or intervention.

      Chapter 2

      The next morning, Tyra arose at sunup. She went into her flower garden and sat on the little stone bench beneath the rose trellis. Her parents had put the trellis and bench there a few weeks after they bought the house, and some of her fondest memories were of them sitting there on a summer evening, laughing, holding hands and sipping ice tea. Over the years, Tyra had gone there to find solace and direction. But as time passed, she needed the comfort she found in that little spot less and less. Tyra wondered why she’d gone there at this particular time.

      “What are you doing out there so early?” Maggie called from her bedroom window. “You all right?”

      “I’m fine, Maggie. Just musing.”

      “I’ll start the coffee, and we can muse together. I’ll be down in a minute.

      “So what’s up?” Maggie asked Tyra a few minutes later when they sat together drinking coffee.

      “I need to get a job. I haven’t had a response to any of the jobs I applied for, so I think I’ll do better if I try something else.”

      “I expect you’re right. If it’s money that’s bothering you, I can live on less than you pay me. All I need is a home.”

      “This is your home, Maggie. I’m happy to say that we don’t have a financial problem. I’ve invested what my parents left us. I’ve paid off the mortgage, and we don’t have any debts.” Indeed, the value of the trust funds had nearly doubled in the twelve years since the family had received their inheritance. Nevertheless, Tyra remained vigilant and had become as good a money manager as the man she hired to keep a check on their resources. “I’ll get busy with my job search as soon as I’ve eaten.”

      True to her word, Tyra sat at her computer investigating online job listings. She thought she saw a good job prospect and telephoned the number on the screen.

      “You’re definitely overqualified for this job, ma’am. Anybody who’s finished sixth grade can do what we want.” Tyra opened her mouth to say, “You should have put that in the ad,” but thought better of it, thanked the woman and continued her search. She doubted that she would have enjoyed a job that didn’t challenge her mentally. After applying for more jobs online, someone from the Legal Aid Center that she had spoken to earlier called her back.

      “Miss Cunningham, this is Barbara Johnson. We have a position for a counselor that I overlooked when we spoke before. Would you come in tomorrow at nine for an interview?”

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ