CHAPTER TWO
"Lauri says to be there by 7:30 tomorrow night. We'll eat about 8:00."
Rick sighed. "Ted . . ."
"Don't worry--you'll like Sharon. She hates being set up as much as you do." Ted grinned at his friend.
Rick leaned back in his desk chair. "Then why did she agree to it?"
"Because Lauri's as good at badgering as I am. See you tomorrow."
Rick shook his head as Ted left his office. He knew his friend meant well, but he despised fix-ups. The last time he'd gone to Ted and Lauri's, Lauri had spent fifteen minutes scolding him for letting his date go home alone. She'd been a nice enough girl, but she'd had her own car at dinner, and it would have been totally ridiculous for him to offer to drive her home. According to Lauri, however, Beth would have accepted the offer and returned later to get her car, just for the chance to be alone with him. He was glad then that he hadn't offered. How could he respect a woman who would do something so silly?
Restless now, Rick began wrapping up for the day. He’d been a junior vice president at Ward and Lee Realty since 2008, a position that involved a great deal of paperwork. Sometimes he missed spending the entire day visiting properties and dealing, but the behind-the-scenes work had its own challenges. Besides, on the occasions that he did the actual dealing, it was always a prime piece of real estate and clients who were rich or famous or both. Boston was a terrific place to be a realtor.
Just after 7:00 Rick drove onto his own little bit of Boston in the Back Bay. He'd had his house built on a beautiful acre that was located on the southeast edge of the area inhabited by Boston's elite. Real estate prices there were outrageous, but Rick, with his connections and eye for property, had gotten this parcel for next to nothing. It was only a few blocks from the downtown area and considered too close for comfort by true members of the upper class. But for Rick it was perfect. Both his office and his neighbors were close but not too close, and he had a beautiful lawn in the front and a large patio and flower garden in the back.
Rick smiled as he walked into his kitchen, loosening his tie. Lauri moaned every time she walked into the garden. What a waste, she always sighed, looking at him with reproach. A woman would love having that garden, but what did a man know about flowers?
Truthfully, he knew very little, Rick mused as he set his cartons of Chinese on the counter and went to change clothes. He just knew that he enjoyed their beauty and scent. But he could never admit that to Lauri; she'd accuse him of being a romantic. He really was, deep down, he supposed. But he'd had so many bad experiences that he was rapidly becoming something of a cynic. He'd thought he'd been in love with Sabrina, but she'd been too demure, too clingy. He'd begun feeling smothered. Gina had talked of nothing but marriage from their fifth or sixth date until he'd broken up with her. She'd sobbed and told him over and over how much she loved him and begged him not to break up with her. A month later he'd read of her engagement to another man. He'd actually proposed to Kim, but once she had the ring, all she'd wanted to talk about was what pieces she was going to buy to refurnish the house and at which resorts they were going to spend their summers and how much of his money was in the bank and how much in land investments. He'd broken up with her six weeks after proposing. He'd never gotten the ring back, of course.
He was lonely. Rick sighed, setting down the carton of fried rice and leaning back. That was why he’d been foolish enough to ask Kim to marry him, he now realized. He was much more cautious now. In fact, Ted said he’d gone to the opposite extreme. But he’d finally realized that there were worse things than being lonely. He wouldn’t have been lonely if he’d married Kim or Gina or Sabrina, but he wouldn’t have been happy. Even sex was no longer enough to motivate him to get into a relationship like those. He wanted someone he could be completely at ease with. He wanted someone he could relax with when he came home from work, not someone he had to work to please. All his married buddies told him he was dreaming, that marriage was a strain, a series of trade-offs. But he couldn’t help hoping there was something better than that. Or at least someone he could love so much that he wouldn’t even notice the trade-offs.
Rick had planned to go to the office for a while the next morning, but his friend Dirk called to challenge him to a couple of games of racquetball. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" Dirk asked as they warmed up.
"No--I was in bed reading the paper."
"I was in bed too--and desperately needed to get out. Thanks for the rescue."
Rick shook his head. Dirk, at 28 three years younger than Rick, was as leery of marriage as Rick, but for different reasons. He liked having a variety of women to choose from, frequently juggled more than one relationship--if you could call them that--at once, and sometimes seemed to enjoy getting caught at it so that he could put his charm to a real test.
"I ran into Kim the other day." Dirk hit the ball.
"Kim who?" Rick had to run to get it.
Dirk missed it. "Kim. You know--your Kim."
Rick glanced at him. "Kim Logan?" His ex-fiancée. "She isn't my Kim--not any more." It had been over a year since they'd broken up.
"Yeah. So I thought maybe she could be my Kim. I ran into her at lunch downtown, and I invited her out for drinks that evening. She's good, Rick. It was the first time I'd been alone with her--you know, without you and my own date--and it took her less than ten minutes to figure out that I'm not exactly the marrying type. I still don't know how I gave myself away. It was a first."
"What happened?"
"She turned cool seven or eight minutes into the conversation, finished her drink, said thank you, and left."
"She knows what she wants. I suppose you have to give her credit for that."
That conversation left a bad taste in Rick's mouth, and he arrived at Ted and Lauri's that evening feeling wary. "Hi--I'm glad you said to dress casually," Rick greeted Ted, shrugging out of his coat. "I hate to get dressed up when it's raining."
"Sharon insisted. She said set-ups are awkward enough without all the formality." He hung Rick's coat in the closet.
"I might like this girl after all. Where is she?"
"Not here yet."
"Hi, Rick," Lauri called from the kitchen.
"Hi--what's for dinner?"
"Steak, baked potato, and salad--chocolate cake for dessert. Sharon insisted we keep it simple."
Rick smiled, accepting the cup of tea Ted had known he'd want. "I'm liking this girl better and better."
She arrived five minutes later, and Rick's earlier impressions held. She was pretty and slender, friendly but just reticent enough to convince him he wasn't being pursued. "Lauri says you're a paralegal," Rick said as they sat sipping tea and coffee before dinner.
"Yeah--in Charlestown."
"Is that where you live?"
"No--I live in the North End. It's not a bad drive unless the traffic is really bad."
The conversation was enjoyable, the dinner delicious, and Rick was glad he'd come. "Nice girl, huh?" Ted whispered as Rick and Sharon were putting on their coats.
"Yeah--I like her."
"Good. Make me the best man."
"Ted . . . "
"Sorry, sorry--I couldn't resist." He smiled over at Sharon, who'd been talking to Lauri. "Thanks for coming. It's been a great evening."
"I really enjoyed it too. Thanks for having me." She smiled up at Rick. "And it was nice meeting you."
"You too. Let me walk you to your car."
Sharon smiled at Rick again when Ted and Lauri closed the door behind them. "This is the first time I've actually walked out of a fix-up without breathing a sigh of relief."
"I know what you mean."
"It's usually so awkward, even if the guy is nice. But I felt comfortable tonight. I had a good time."
"So did I." Rick opened her car door. "If you were into racquetball, I'd invite you out for a couple of games tomorrow. How about tennis--do you like tennis
?"
"Afraid not. I'm not much of an athlete."
"How about brunch and a movie then?"
"That sounds great."
Rick felt good about the evening and was looking forward to seeing Sharon again the next day. The only down side was the report that Ted would expect Monday morning.
"How'd things go yesterday?" was the greeting he got at exactly 8:47 Monday morning.
"Fine. I read and napped, watched a little TV. I'm all rested up."
Ted dropped into the chair in front of Rick's desk. "What are you talking about? Sharon told Lauri that you guys went out."
"We did."
"Then what's all this business about resting? I want to hear about you and Sharon."
"She's a nice girl. We had a good time."
"So do you think it'll go anywhere?"
"Probably to another date. What is this, Ted--are you and I two teenage girls?"
"No . . . but I have to report back to Lauri. What--you think all of this set-up business is my idea?" He shook his head, leaning back. "Just wait. If one of these set-ups ever works out, you'll see what it's like when your wife hounds you to pump your best friend for information."
"That really inspires me to want to get married."
The phone rang, and Ted left as Rick picked it up. “Ward and Lee Realty.”
“Hi. What’re you doing?”
“Working. How come you’re not?” His sister Teri was an office manager in Charlestown.
“I am. I meant to call you last night and forgot. I wanted to tell you about a party we’re having in two weeks, and I don’t want you to say I didn’t give you time to find a date.”
“Who—you and Jeremy?”
“No—it’s a benefit for the children’s hospital.” She was on the board. “It’s a 1920s theme dance. We’re going to dress up in period clothes and dance the Charleston. It’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“Hmmm.”
“Really. I’m going to drop a book off at your office some time today. It’s got pictures of people from the ‘20s, so you can get an idea of how to dress.”
“Aren’t we still having dinner Thursday?”
“Yeah. But I don’t want you to use not having enough time to plan as an excuse.” In the last few months, she’d tried to fix him up two or three times. Whenever she showed a friend a picture of her gorgeous brother, the girl would immediately ask to be set up. But Rick had refused every time. She hoped that getting him to commit to the benefit dance would at least force him to ask someone out. She knew he was lonely, and she couldn’t stand seeing him shut himself off from any prospect of a relationship.
Rick would probably have refused to go if he hadn’t met Sharon this weekend. He didn’t feel particularly attracted to her, but she was a nice girl, and that was a big improvement over his last few experiences.
That evening he went out to the garden with the book Teri had given him. Sharon had been enthusiastic about the dance when he’d called to invite her. He’d told her he’d lend her the book, but she said that she already had some ideas about finding a drop-waist dress and a cloche hat.
Personally, he thought the clothes were rather ugly. The dresses were shapeless, and the men’s pants were baggy. And he certainly wasn’t going to wear a raccoon coat. He turned the page, noticing the stockings for the first time. He squinted at one pair of legs. There was a crossword puzzle design on them!
He turned the page, wondering if he could get away with wearing pleated pants. He had . . . a picture caught his eye. It was a large one of a family of four, all of them looking very sober with the exception of the daughter, a very beautiful young woman with a slight smile and a twinkle in her eye. She had dark hair and eyes and long, slender fingers. Her ugly dress hid the rest, but he could easily imagine that her figure matched her face. Looking at the caption, he saw that her name was Marie Tranton and that she’d been born in 1904. He looked for the date of the picture and found that it had been taken in 1926. So she was 22 in this picture. Hmmm . . . he would have thought that most 22 year olds in the 1920s would be married. Especially a girl as beautiful as this one. But Tranton was her family name, so she apparently wasn’t. Scanning the text on the page opposite the picture, he found a little information about her. She’d gotten married at 23—a year after the picture had been taken. And she’d died in 1941. So young! She’d been only 37. Wondering what she’d died of, he turned the page and found more information about her.
"Jefferson Tranton handpicked Davis Runyon, heir to the Runyon publishing empire, as a husband for his daughter. Chandler Runyon had sold the business when his son was 19 years old so that, in actuality, Davis Runyon was heir only to the family fortune and to the power of wealth, not to the power of position. Eager for such, he courted both the young woman and her father. Tranton and his son had had a falling out when the younger Tranton had begun his own company in 1925, and because he had disinherited his son, Tranton began grooming Runyon to run his company as well as to become his son-in-law. In February 1927 Runyon became vice president of the import/export enterprise, and seven months later he married Tranton's daughter.
"The marriage was apparently an unhappy one. Marie, who had, in her youth, had a reputation as a vibrant, fun-loving, somewhat mischievous girl, was rarely seen in public after her marriage. Reports suggest that she was a victim of spousal abuse. The official cause of her death in 1941 was an infection contracted during the birth of her youngest child. However, that child was born in 1936, so it is highly unlikely that she had a terminal infection for five years. Rumors at the time suggested that her husband had transmitted a venereal disease to her."
Rick was shocked. He had a hard time picturing the young woman in the picture as a victim. Of course, even today women stayed with men who abused them, and it would have been much harder for a woman in the 1920s to escape. But why had she married him? Had she not seen what type of man he was?
He turned back to the picture. The article had said that she’d been vibrant and fun-loving in her youth, and he could see those qualities in her eyes. He would have liked to have known her. Well, before her marriage, anyway. He’d bet that she’d been a lot less complicated than the women he knew. And she was so beautiful.
Rick went to bed without having decided anything about an outfit for the dance. But for some reason, the young woman from the 1920s was still very much on his mind.