Anyway. “She’s not my type.”
“Your type. For gods’ sake Jack, I’m not asking you to get involved with her. I’m just asking you to help out someone I care about. Just what exactly is your type of woman?”
“Someone who doesn’t need her hand held for starters.” Nothing worse than an overly dependent female.
Jack stalked behind Charlie’s chair and picked up the framed photo he had pointed out. Lizzie with Mari, Charlie and that must be Becca—the Peace Corps Four as Charlie used to refer to them. He hadn’t seen any pictures in Charlie’s office when he had stopped by during Charlie’s bereavement absence to keep a handle on things. His photos were back. A good sign.
“I like women with more curves.” Jack returned the picture to its place and resumed pacing. “You know—like Gina. You met her. She is definitely my type.”
“I think Mari gave you her opinion of Gina.” A smile lit Charlie’s face.
Jack snorted a laugh. “Yeah, no question about that.”
He turned away from Charlie’s desk and stared out the floor to ceiling windows remembering Mari’s vehement assertion that he needed to stop wasting time and find the right woman and settle down. Jack turned back to face Charlie. “Scathing. But like I told Mari, I’m not going to marry Gina. Hell, I’m not going to marry anyone.”
Jack knew deep inside his heart that he had never met anyone who made him think in that direction at all. He would gladly endure some loneliness to avoid the far worse pitfalls sadly demonstrated by Dad, and now Charlie. Whether the woman leaves on her own or by fate, marriages don’t last.
“Yeah, well, I’m not asking you to marry Lizzie. She’s too good for you anyway.”
Jack resisted the bait even though he enjoyed sparring with his brother. “You’re probably right. So the lady’s on her own for her trip back to the glory days of college.”
Charlie raked his hand through his hair. “Hear me out, OK, Jack? Lizzie’s parents were killed in a car accident on the way to her graduation. I don’t know the whole story, but this guy Prescott dumped her around the same time. Her life fell apart. That’s why she joined the Peace Corps according to Mari.”
“Prescott? What’s his first name?” Jack straightened and edged closer to the desk.
“I’ve only heard him referred to as Wallace Prescott the Third. Always with the Roman numerals. Sounds like a pompous ass to me. Why?”
Jack’s spine stiffened. “You’ve got me interested now. Small world. How did she ever get mixed up with him?”
“They were both students. As far as I know Lizzie’s never been serious about anyone else.”
Can’t imagine her with a conniver like Prescott.
“I’ll do it,” Jack blurted out impulsively. “Prescott’s the jerk I’m competing against on the GC Building. I’ve beaten him on the last two bids. I know he thought he had the last project wrapped up, especially in his hometown. Let’s just say we’re unfriendly competitors. Maybe I understand why she’s asking you to hold her hand.”
Charlie looked dumbstruck. “Thanks Jack. Really.”
“Mari will send lightning bolts down from the heavens if I don’t help her “sister”. I might enjoy playing the white knight to keep that bastard from hurting her again. Does she mind me filling in for you?”
“I didn’t ask her yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I wasn’t sure I could convince you to help.”
“I’m convinced. Sorry I gave you a hard time. I’ll build a business trip around it.”
“Sure, but the weekend’s on me. It’s the least I can do.”
“You asked for it. First Class air and a suite at The Charles.”
“Already done.” Charlie pulled a letter-size paper folded in the middle out of his desk drawer and held it out toward Jack. “Your e-ticket.”
Jack moved in, took the paper out of Charlie’s hand and unfolded it. The airline itinerary—in his name. Hanging over Charlie’s desk, he brushed his fist against Charlie’s shoulder in a mock punch. “A little sure of yourself, aren’t you, bro?”
Jack tucked the ticket in his briefcase. “Sorry. The lady is out of time for this meeting. I have to run. Call me tonight after you talk to her and let me know the plans for the weekend.”
Charlie stood and extended his hand. “Thanks Jack, I really appreciate this.”
Jack hugged him over the cluttered desk.
“No problem. You can count on me.”
Jack grinned in parting and left Charlie’s office.
Wally Prescott—Roman numeral three.
Chapter Four
In his office Friday morning, instead of on his way to O’Hare to meet Lizzie, Charlie looked out the row of tall windows across from his desk. He prized the company’s location on Printers Row with its old-time Chicago neighborhood feel and its brick, turn of the century lo-rises—the perfect place for his boutique, publishing firm. No other way to make a living for him. Proud to be responsible for creating books, he appreciated their permanence, their legacy for the generations.
His staff was handpicked, and he valued each employee as his second family. Slowly they had stopped their sugary, stilted behavior toward him since his comeback to work, and a comfortable camaraderie returned.
The easy relationship he enjoyed with Lizzie had returned lately, too. Maybe he was risking that today, certain she would be furious with him as his plan for this weekend unfolded. If she knew that Jack would be on the flight with her ahead of time, she would have cancelled the trip.
It would have been better to get them together earlier as planned. Had she made the meeting last week, he would have pulled that off.
Charlie had no clue what to expect as a result of his manipulations. Thrown together, would they see stars, hear choirs? He half believed they would after reading Mari’s journal entry:
I am making no progress with Jack that’s for sure. He is more stubborn than me. Doesn’t he know that I’m right about such things? He will not agree to meet my sister no matter what I try. And she’s no better. No time, no time, she tells me. Then she gets on a plane and disappears again. Well, my Goodness there’s always time for love
.
Glad he’d acted on Mari’s wishes, he now had a purpose despite his sneaky methods. Jack would probably be pissed at him, too, for throwing him unaware into the path of Lizzie’s anger. Although devious, the means to their match-up was righteous and even fateful.
After reading his emails, he brought up his calendar. The day would be full. His assistant brought him a mug of coffee, black and almost bitter, the way he liked it.
“Thanks, Allie. You didn’t have to bother.”
“No bother. Justin wants to know if you’re ready to go over some lay-outs.”
“Sure. Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
A quick glance at his watch. She should be on her way to the airport right now, the deed done.
Lifting a small, framed photo from his desktop, he peered at it. Mari and Lizzie smiled together in the sunshine. He shifted to look at the only other photograph on his desk and picked it up with his other hand. Jack and he smiled back at him in a similar pose. He brought the two pictures together, frames touching and looked closely at the people who meant the most to him. They belonged with each other.
He recalled the rest of her journal entry as if hearing Mari’s voice.
I know they were meant to love each other. And I will not stop pushing until they know it, too.
Charlie smiled in agreement and looked upward where heaven just might be. “She’ll be pissed, Mari. But we finally got the two of them together.”
****
Lizzie stood in her closet and took stock of her wardrobe. She couldn’t decide between the cool, elegant Vera Wang gown with the matching jacket or the short, skimpy cocktail dress. Designer clothing wasn’t normally in her budget, but the gown was a splurge. Beige designer silk or red glitter? Both. Better to over-pack.
Pulling the dresses off the rod, she hung them in the suit bag spread open on her bed. Although a veteran traveler, this weekend posed plenty of packing challenges.
Planned events included a welcome reception at the Varsity Club, a tailgate and football game, a boat ride on the Charles River, and a gala at the Boston Harbor Hotel. No matter how nerve wracking, she had to look sensational for all of them. Damn if Wallace wouldn’t look at her twice.
Thankfully, the bag zipped closed. She took a minute to run through her mental checklist again. Done.
According to the kitchen clock, she had less than two hours before flight time to get to O’Hare and meet Charlie.
Please, God, let the Kennedy Expressway be open all the way.
Once parked at the airport and grabbing her stuff out of the trunk, she power walked through the lot and over the bridge that connected the garage to the terminal building.
Unsure if Charlie would wait for her at the First Class check-in counter or if he decided to meet her at the gate, she itched to get off the slow moving escalator.
No Charlie at the counter. Lizzie sped through the check-in process and headed toward the security area, boarding pass and driver’s license in hand. Ten minutes later, she darted down the wide corridor toward the two main concourses for the airline. A fat world globe and a parade of national flags overhead, Lizzie hurried toward the gate farthest out.
Boarding was in progress, so Lizzie stepped in line and boarded the plane. She found her row, surprised at the empty seat next to hers.
Stuffing the thin, red blanket on her seat into the stretchy pouch in front of her, she took a paperback out of her purse and tried to relax. A pleasant flight attendant hovered and passengers bumped along past her. She couldn’t concentrate on reading.
Where the heck is Charlie?
She opened her purse and searched for her cell phone, then realized she had forgotten it.
****
Jack preferred to board the plane last; legroom was in short supply for six foot five men like him.
Lizzie blew past him so fast he had lost her in the crowd. He didn’t expect his surge of pleasure when he had caught sight of her outside the security area. He would have helped with her bags if she hadn’t raced ahead.
Stretching his long legs one last time, he pulled himself out of the plastic chair and walked to the end of the line.
Passing passengers’ elbows and legs in the narrow aisle of the airplane, Jack stopped next to Lizzie, already belted in the oversized leather seat in the last row of the First Class cabin.
He stowed his duffle bag in the bin over her head. “Hi. Want me next to the window?” He hoped she’d say no.
“Um? Yes.” She didn’t look up, but tucked her legs to the side to let him cross in front of her. Lizzie kept glancing sideways at the vacant seat across the aisle to her left.
Angling one leg in front of her to straddle her seat, he bent close out of necessity. Her fresh floral scent replaced airplane smell. He loved the way women smelled. Jack twisted into his seat.
“Flight attendants, please prepare for departure,” came the pilot’s instruction.
Lizzie bent and rummaged around in her purse for something. Producing nothing, she kicked her purse under the seat, bent her head and cupped her face with her palms.
“Can I help you, Lizzie?” He leaned close.
“Jack?” She drew away from him, her brows furrowed in what he read as disbelief and maybe a pinch of anxiety.
The color drained from her face, and her posture stiffened. “Has something happened to Charlie?”
Charlie didn’t tell her he wasn’t coming?
“Don’t worry he’s fine.”
Jack tried to give her a reassuring smile despite his confusion. Her distressed expression didn’t change, but her shoulders sagged down a couple inches.
“Charlie asked me to stand in for him as your date for this weekend.” He reached his right hand in her direction. “Good to see you again.”
“My
what
?” She ignored his outstretched hand and stared at him.
A few heads turned in their direction. He withdrew his hand and lowered his voice. “Charlie. Asked me. To come. Remember?”
“Don’t patronize me.” Her face reddened, and she shot green licks of fire from her emerald eyes that, if possible, would have melted him in the leather seat. “You’re
kidding
me, right? Charlie stood me up?”
“Obviously, he didn’t tell you.”
“Hell no. I’ll
kill
him.”
Jack huffed. “Not if I get to him first.”
Jet engines whined and the acceleration forced him back heavily into the seat with the plane’s forward momentum and increasing incline. Through the window buildings shrunk and the wings dipped as they looped over Lake Michigan.
“What am I going to do now?” She bit her thumb cuticle ferociously. “I’ll just have to turn around when I get to Boston. I can’t go alone. This is…this is just…this is
unacceptable,
that’s what this is.”
“Hey. Hello. Me plus you does not equal alone. I’m the innocent proxy here. And a damned nice guy, too.”
Her hands tightened in white-knuckled fists on her lap. Prepared to deflect one of those fists aimed in his direction, he glanced at her face.
She looked deflated, vulnerable. He liked the green sparks shooting at him better. A woman that challenged him ignited his fire.
“It’s just that I really need Charlie this weekend. I can’t believe he could just send somebody else instead.”
“Lady, you’re doing wonders for my fragile ego.” He forced a smile.
Lizzie laughed. “Fragile? I’ll bet.”
She chewed another cuticle and then skewered him with her gaze, her lips twisted with disdain. “I’m so mad, I’m about to explode. I’m stressed-out enough about this weekend without having to deal with you.”
Were women born with the ability to shrink a man down to size with one look?
I have better things to do with a weekend than cater to a moody female.
“I wouldn’t want to add to your
stress
. We’ll go separate ways when we get to Boston,” Jack asserted.
Plucking the airline magazine from the seatback pouch, Jack opened it, feigning disinterest.
What is going on here? Charlie’s motives had seemed clear—a simple favor to a good friend.
Jack couldn’t see her with a guy like Prescott. Didn’t fit with the impression of her he had through his brother or his own snap judgments, sweet, loyal Lizzie. This feisty woman’s rejection brought out the fierce competitor in him while making him feel slightly unworthy.