from her hard work and the brisk evening air. Her amber eyes hinted at green, probably because of the teal-colored sweater she wore. As a pool reflects the sky, light eyes reflect surrounding colors. Where had he recently read that, and why had he lost his train of thought again?
“You’ve sure made me a happy camper,” she said, with a perky glance out the window, which made her earrings sway.
Never having been in the business of granting wishes before, he enjoyed the swell of pride and rode along with it.
He noticed René always wore extralong earrings, and right now the colorful beads and loops almost reached her shoulders, and for some odd reason it fascinated him the way they swayed with the movement of her head. Mesmerizing. But that was neither here nor there; he was on a mission to get to know René better, not notice her earrings or how they swayed with her long, thick hair. There had to be some relevant question he could think of to ask.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why a woman such as René wasn’t happily married. She should be having a baby with her doting husband instead of soliciting his services.
His services? The thought tickled the corner of his mouth into a near smile and he looked straight ahead so she wouldn’t notice. He’d really agreed to do this crazy thing. For René. Two years ago, when Cherie had kicked him to the curve without so much as a hint of being discontent, who would have ever thought about agreeing to such a ridiculous idea? That smile kept edging up his face, and he kept staring out the front window to hide it.
When they reached their stop, they hopped off the trolley, walked half a block and ordered their brews at the shop, then sat outside to enjoy the clear evening sky. In the distance, he could see the lights flicker on Stearns Wharf and wished he could hear the waves crashing against the pilings.
Beneath her shrouded gaze, René sat quietly, as if waiting for him to break the ice, to bring up the next step in their plan—admittedly, the trickiest, as far as he was concerned.
Not ready to go there yet, Jon took a drink of espresso and winced at the bitterness. “Since we don’t know much about each other, I’ll start. My girls are both in high school. Amanda’s going to graduate this June, and Lacy next year. Amanda has applied to every Ivy League school she could think of since she’s got it in her head that, if she wants to go to Harvard Law, she’s got to do her undergraduate studies at an equally prestigious school.”
Everyone in the medical clinic was well aware of his divorce two years earlier, how hard it had hit. But no one could possibly know, since he’d worked extrahard at hiding it, how devastated he’d been. How he never saw himself ever loving again, beyond his daughters. They’d seen the happy family guy turn into his current recluse status, and he’d complained bitterly to anyone who would listen about how Cherie had practically cleaned him out financially. But he’d always stopped short of the point of how he didn’t think he could go on, and how he never ever wanted to commit to another relationship because of it.
On a more practical note, he didn’t need to bore René with the difficulty of supporting his family at the level to which they’d become accustomed, while living on his own and saving for both daughters’ college funds.
Still, having taken the business risk with his colleagues and opened the clinic, he’d refused to bail for a higher-paying job when Cherie demanded the outrageous monthly alimony. The clinic was all about autonomy, which mattered a lot to him. It was all he had left. That same autonomy was what fueled his sabbatical dreams.
René sipped her tea concoction as coils of steam circled her face. He could smell the peppermint all the way across the table. She lifted intriguingly shaped brows, brows he’d never really noticed before now.
“And Lacy?” she asked. “What are her plans?”
Jon barked a laugh. “She’s thinking more in line with Oahu U.” He made the “hang loose” hand gesture associated with the laidback Hawaiian Islands. “My girls couldn’t be more different if they tried.” He shook his head, knowing both daughters had genius IQs. Sometimes he wondered if his genes were a blessing or a curse.
“As long as they’re happy, right?” she said.
He nodded wholeheartedly. Ah, to be young and free to start over again, but happiness was such a subjective state of being. At forty-two he was the picture of health, which should make him happy, yet sometimes he felt unnecessarily weighted down by responsibility. At times like that, his sabbatical plans helped keep him going.
Since divorcing and moving out, he’d occupied eight hundred square feet of high-tech loft where he practiced urban minimalism. His daughters were the ones to name it the “man cave.” As long as he had his books and stereo equipment, and visitation rights with his girls, he’d make do—even if he couldn’t satisfactorily explain the temporary feel of his current living situation.
She watched him closely, forcing him to say something. Anything. “And I suppose this deal we’re making will make you happy?” he said.
With warm eyes hinting at wisdom well beyond her thirty-plus years, René studied him as if on the verge of telling her deepest secret. That near-perfect smile stretched across her face. “You have no idea.”
The moments yawned on with the two of them cautiously watching each other. She told him how her parents had retired and moved to Nevada. How she was an only child. How all of her best friends were married and how she always felt like the odd woman out whenever they got together. He asked where the men in her life had all gone. Her relaxed expression became peppered with annoyance.
He knew the war chant—men, the callous heartbreakers! He could repeat the same, only changing the gender. Yet he wanted her to open up, to tell him something personal, so he bit his tongue. If they were going to make a baby together, he felt he had the right to know more about her.
“Ten years ago, I’d thought I’d found my soul mate, but instead, he dumped me, crushing my heart beneath his feet as he walked out the door.” She glanced at him. Could she tell he knew exactly how she felt? “Sorry for sounding overdramatic, but that’s how it felt. Since then, I’ve had a series of less-than-satisfying relationships, and I’m pessimistic when it comes to the topic of permanent love.”
Jon had been married so long, and hadn’t pursued much in the way of romantic relationships since his divorce out of commitment fears, but he’d heard enough women around the clinic moan about the same thing. Love and permanence didn’t seem to fit. He figured the world of dating wasn’t such a great place to be these days, but for the life of him and his old-school ways, he couldn’t figure out what kind of guy would let a woman like René get away.
Watching René sip her tea, Jon figured the ticking of her biological clock influenced her every thought. Sure, lots of women were waiting until their early forties to have their first babies, but she’d have to risk the time to find the right guy, get married and get pregnant when it was a well-known fact that fertility declined with each year after thirty. She’d made it very clear she wasn’t willing to take the chance. He’d computed that if she waited much longer, she’d be in her late fifties with teenagers, and that thought, having two teenagers himself, gave him pause. It was all luck anyway, and if he knew one thing about René, it was that she wasn’t a gambler. If she was going to respond to her brewing and strengthening desire for motherhood, she’d have to act…well, soon.
“Have you really given up on finding the right guy?” He lifted his brows, prodding, then when she didn’t immediately answer, he switched to a more challenging look.
Her
