Tales of Romance

Tom Fowler’s

Tales of Romance

Volume 1

INDEX

A Gentleman Comes Calling

Frances

Office Romance

The Second Chance

A Gentleman Comes Calling

Peter was nervous as he rang the doorbell to the Wheaton residence. His palms were sweaty and he had a lump in his throat. He didn't know how Mr. Wheaton would react to his request.

Ruth Wheaton answered the bell. An attractive, elegant lady of 43 years, she was Elaine's mother. "Hello, Peter, please come in."

"Thank you,'' he replied, as he stepped inside. He removed his coat in the spacious entryway and handed it to her. He waited for her to make further comment.

"Mr. Wheaton is in the den. Please go in. He is expecting you," she said, without emotion.

Again, his only reply was, "Thank you." She led him to the den, announced him to her husband Charles, and left them alone.

Peter Doolan walked toward the older man, who was still sitting. Approaching Charles Wheaton, he extended his hand and said, "Good evening, sir. Thank you for seeing me."

Charles Wheaton took his hand, but gave him a half-hearted handshake. "You're welcome, Peter," he answered, simply, "What is it you want?"

"I have come to ask you if you would have any objection to my asking Elaine to marry me." Peter was surprised and pleased that he was able to say this in such a straightforward manner, considering how nervous he was. He hoped Mr. Wheaton had not noticed his sweaty palms.

The older man said nothing for a moment, and then invited Peter to sit down. "You want to marry Elaine?" he asked, after Peter sat down in the chair next to his. "What does she say?"

"I haven't asked her yet."

"Haven't asked her yet?" Charles Wheaton, a prominent attorney and civic leader, was, for once, at a loss for words. Finally, he asked, "Aren't you a little old for her?"

Peter was now calm and in control. Laying it on the line to Elaine's father early had relieved his stress. "I don't think so; no sir," he answered, "I realize that a 12 year age difference could be cause for concern, but I'm certain you are aware that Elaine is not your typical 19-year old."

"I am aware of that, yes," Charles answered, "but what about you? Please don't be offended, but we don't know you that well. You and Elaine have only been seeing each for a short time."

"Almost six months, sir."

"That's a short time."

"True, Mr. Wheaton, but we love each other."

"Does Elaine know you are here?"

"No sir."

"You may be wasting your time. She may say no to your proposal."

"As I said, sir, we love each other. I am confident she will say yes."

Charles Wheaton was impressed by the way this young man was carrying himself, and he was certainly impressed by the purpose of his visit. He was showing respect without being obsequious, and was confident without being cocky. He managed a slight smile as he sized the younger man up. Peter was developing an excellent reputation as a defense attorney in Scott Crawford's firm. Peter Doolan was a tall, handsome man, sporting straight black hair with a slightly dark complexion, and white, even teeth with a dimpled chin. Well-dressed and well-mannered, he understood well why his young daughter was in love with him. "I suspect you are right. Mrs. Wheaton and I are aware of Elaine’s feelings for you. But, you haven't answered my question. Isn't a 30-year old man a little old for an 18-year old girl? Elaine won't turn 19 until next month."

"I don't believe it will be a problem. Elaine has the maturity level of someone much older. We share the same interests and goals in life. I'm just farther along. When we first began dating, she told me that boys her age hold no interest for her. I thought at first she was flattering me, but quickly learned she meant what she said." He paused and softly chuckled, "I never thought I would fall in love with a teenage girl. I haven't been interested in them since I was a teen."

"You know she's only a freshman. I want her to stay in college."

"As I say, we share the same interests and goals in life."

There was a pause, and neither man spoke, as each was waiting for the other to continue. Finally, Peter said, "Mr. Wheaton, I love your daughter very much. She is beautiful, sweet, intelligent, ambitious, and very much a lady. I will be honored if she consents to marry me. I will also be honored if you give your blessing. I will take good care of her, sir, if she will have me. What do you say?" Peter Doolan was looking the older man straight in the eye.

Charles Wheaton thought his reply carefully. "I say I am still concerned about the age difference, but you seem to make a non-issue of it. Mrs. Wheaton and I are adamant that she stay in school. Other than these concerns, which you have addressed, I have no objections." A twinkle appeared in the old man's eye. "It is now for you to get her to say yes, so that neither of us will have wasted our time."

A grinning Peter rose from his seat and again extended his hand to Charles. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it and thank you for your time."

Charles smiled also, and this time, returned a firm handshake as he rose to greet the younger man. "I wasn't aware that chivalry still existed."

"Oh, I believe it's still around, Mr. Wheaton. You just don't see it everyday."

"Amen to that, Peter." Charles walked him to the door as Ruth got his coat. "Good luck with Elaine."

"Thank you. Good night, sir." He turned to face Mrs.Wheaton, "Good night, ma'am."

He walked out the door and into the night.

Ruth Wheaton, who had been even more concerned than her husband about her daughter's relationship with the older man, asked him, "What did he want to talk to you about?"

"He wants to marry Elaine."
"I was afraid of that," she said, unhappily. "What did you tell him? Did she say yes?"

"He hasn't asked her yet."

"He came to talk to you about it before asking her?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yes, he did," he answered, slowly, "I believe we have misjudged the young man."

They sat on the sofa in Peter's modest, but richly furnished apartment. Peter had promised an exciting evening and she was looking forward to the concert downtown at the Civic Center. He had brought her back here before taking her out for dinner. He felt the same nervousness now as he did in her father's presence several nights before. Sweaty palms and a lump in his throat. He realized this was going to be more difficult than talking to Mr. Wheaton and it surprised him somewhat. He stared at her in silence for what seemed like a long time.

"Peter, what's on your mind? You look pre-occupied?"

She was beautiful. Of average height and medium build, she had long blonde hair, light complexion and blue eyes to complement a perfect 36-24-36 figure. Elaine possessed high cheekbones and a beautiful smile. Quite a catch for any man. He found himself tongue-tied, a problem he did not experience with her father.

"Peter?"

He reached into his coat pocket with one of his sweaty hands and fumbled with the ring, a beautiful diamond with offset cluster. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. "Elaine, I love you very much. Will you marry me?" He smiled a loving smile as he showed her the ring.

Elaine stared into his eyes, studied the ring, and then looked back at him. She returned his smile, "You know I will."

Never in his life had Peter felt so good, so satisfied. The woman of his dreams had just said yes. All those long years alone, of having no one to call his own, were over. He was grateful; deeply grateful, and said a silent prayer of thanks. He wished this moment could last forever. He leaned forward and kissed her. "You've made me the happiest man alive." He placed the ring on her finger.

"You've made me a very happy girl," she added, solemnly, "and we have a lot to talk about. I wonder how my parents are going to react."

"I think you may be pleasantly surprised." He leaned and kissed her again, this time a deep, lingering kiss. Looking into her eyes, he had to suppress a chuckle.

END

Frances

Since being widowed two years ago, Frances Goff's life had been very lonely. A quiet, often sad person, losing Dan to heart disease, at the young age of 35, had been shocking and depressing. Frances thought about this as she braced herself for another day at the jewelry counter.

At least Dan and I didn't have children, she thought, as she stood at the counter and surveyed the empty mall in front of her. That's good, but it makes for a lonely existence. I haven't spoken to a soul since leaving here last night. A sad smile crossed her pretty face.

Frances was a very attractive woman, but she was strangely unaware of it. She stood a petite five feet, two inches tall and weighed a neat 105 pounds. She had a round, but still young face and pretty brown hair and eyes, which complemented her smooth skin and olive complexion. But, her depression and constant sad expression camouflaged her good looks.

Frances didn't believe in love at first sight, but an unfamiliar, exciting feeling swept over her when the first customer of the day walked into the Mall Jewelry Shop.

"May I help you, Sir?"

"Yes," he replied, pleasantly. Her customer was a well-groomed man with a nice smile.

"What may I help you with?" Frances asked, somewhat nervously. She wondered why this man has such an effect on me.

"I'm looking for a brooch."

"We have several." Frances felt like a high school girl with her first crush, and she didn't even know this man. He had been in the shop for less than one minute. Still, her female intuition told her this man noticed her, too. "Do you have a preference as to price range?" She couldn't believe the extraordinary attraction she felt for this stranger.

"Oh, I'm not sure," the man hesitated, "just let me see what you have."

As the man studied the brooches inside the glass display case, Frances studied him. He looked to be about 40, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. Not quite six feet tall, he was slightly overweight, weighing perhaps 200 pounds. Dressed in a business suit, he appeared to be a businessman or, perhaps, a professional man. He wore a school ring on his ring finger. Frances assumed he was married. He was not handsome in the traditional sense, but he was distinguished and carried himself well.

In the space of a few short minutes, Frances was totally smitten with him.

The man looked up from the display case and smiled. "Thank you for your time."

"Would you like a closer look at anything?" Frances asked.

"Not today. Thank you." the man turned and left.

Frances was, once again, left alone in the shop. He had been there barely five minutes. I'd better calm down, she thought, before somebody else comes in. Can't believe I'm behaving like a school girl! He's probably looking for a gift to give his wife or girlfriend. She smiled her sad smile again. Guess I'm so lonely that I can't trust my imagination anymore. She wiped a tear away.

Dan Goff and Frances had 12 happy years together before his unexpected death on that beautiful weekend two years ago. Two days of sun and exertion on the lake was more strain than his diseased heart could stand, and he died of a massive heart attack while driving home Sunday evening. He had not been sick, nor had he felt bad. A seemingly healthy man in the bloom of youth, his death had been a shock to all who knew him.

But, something stirred in Frances this morning. I know he noticed me, she thought, through her misery. But, he's looking for a brooch for his sweetheart. If he comes back, which he probably won't, it will be just to shop for her. Fighting back tears once again, she was abruptly reminded this morning that she had not had so much as even one date with a man since Dan's death. Guess I 'm going to be a lonely widow forever, she thought, bitterly.

Her day in the Mall Jewelry Shop was a busy one, and it allowed her to keep her mind on business and off of the stranger. That night, at home and alone, as usual she thought of him again. I don't even know his name, she thought, and I suppose it doesn't matter, anyway.

The next day, Wednesday, was a slower one than Tuesday had been, and Frances was once again thinking about the well dressed man. Spending the morning fronting shelves and polishing the glass cases, Frances worked furiously. That was usually
unnecessary in the Mall Jewelry Shop on a weekday morning. I shouldn't dwell on this man, but I can't help it. He probably has his brooch and a happy wife today. I wonder what she's like. Do they have children? Where do they live? Frances knew these were unhealthy thoughts, but she wasn't busy and her mind wandered.

The man reappeared in the Shop a short time after 2:00PM, while Frances was polishing the front counter for the fourth time that day. She had not noticed him when he approached and asked, "May I look some more?"

He was dressed much as he was yesterday, except that today he wore a dashing red tie to set off a gray pinstripe suit. His hair was even shorter, but well styled. It was obvious he had had it done since she saw him yesterday. Frances thought he looked even better than he did during their first meeting. All of this raced through her mind as she smiled and answered, "Yes, of course. Did you find your brooch yet?"

"No. I'm still looking." The man had a nice voice, but offered nothing in the way of small talk.

"May I help you look today?" Maybe he'll want my help this time, Frances hoped. I may find out something about him; something about his wife, perhaps.

The man hesitated, but finally agreed. "Yes, I suppose so." He smiled at her, a very nice smile that highlighted white, even teeth. "I do need some help. I may go with something else." He still smiled. Frances thought this, too, improved his appearance. What am I thinking! She wondered, today I think he's turned into a Greek God!

"What else may I show you?"

"Perhaps a choker or a necklace."

Frances asked, a little too casually, "Is this for a wife or girl friend?"

This time the man, with eyes twinkling, gave her a half smile, "It's for a very important lady. That's why I need your help, Miss."

"Please call me Frances," she replied, recovering nicely.

"I'm Robert Briggs."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Briggs."

"Thank you, but, do you know something?" he asked, while looking at his watch. "It's almost 2:30, and I have an appointment. I've lost all track of time. I'll have to do this another time. I'm sorry, Frances."

It had been so long since a handsome man called her by her first name; France's emotional response was almost sexual. Robert (Mr. Briggs) was well-mannered, handsome, and, from all appearances, successful. He was also either married or, at the very least, in a serious relationship. France's heart ached. She liked him more after this second meeting than she did after their first. "Well, please, come back again. We have an excellent selection of just about everything, from watches to diamond rings." She wasn't lying. The Mall Jewelry Shop was a fine jewelry store, enjoying an excellent location in the city's largest mall.

Looking at her, he answered, "I'll try to make it back soon. Thank you for your time, Frances." He turned and departed.

I'm sorry, Frances. Thank you for your time, Frances. Those words by Robert (Mr. Briggs) brought goose bumps to her arms. She sighed. It's been too long since I've spent time with a man. He's going to find whatever-it-is he's looking for and I'll never see him again. She chuckled, her first chuckle in weeks. Well, at least I'm not dead yet. I can still appreciate a fine looking man when I meet one. Nice knowing you, Mr. Briggs.

For the next few days, through the weekend and on in to the next week, Frances thought she was right about Mr. Briggs. Almost a week passed and he had not returned. Don't know why, she thought, but I wish he would come in again. It's not right for me to be so interested in a married man, but maybe he's just living with her.

On Wednesday, exactly one week since his last visit to the Shop, he returned. Frances had to calm herself from her girlish reaction when she saw him. Easy girl, she told herself as he walked through the door and moved toward her. Funny, all three times he's been here, the Shop has been empty. "Hello, Mr. Briggs."

"You remembered my name," he seemed genuinely pleased.

"Of course. And thank you for coming in again."

"You're most welcome. I've finally decided on what to get Camille."

Frances struggled to hide her emotions. Camille! That's her name! Taking a deep breath, she asked, "What is it you have decided on?"

"Let's go with a necklace. Show me what you have."

Frances spent the next hour showing Mr. Briggs the Jewelry Shop's sizable inventory of quality necklaces. The Shop sold everything from simple gold chain to top of the line emerald necklaces. Luckily, the Shop was not busy. Only she and Mr. Wooldridge, the Shop manager, were on duty this morning, which was usually the case. At one point, Mr. Briggs asked her to model a diamond pendant, but Frances refused, citing store regulations. His request both flattered and puzzled her. Finally, he settled on a diamond necklace, priced at $4995.00, marked down for him by Mr. Wooldridge to $4195.00. A nice commission for Frances and time well spent.

Mr. Briggs paid for his necklace with America's Gold Card. Ringing up the sale, Frances realized she had spent an hour with Mr. Briggs and still knew nothing about him. "Frances, you've been most helpful. Thank you so much for all of your time. I appreciate so much all of your efforts."

Frances' heart ached. My God, a classic gentleman on top of everything else. What a lucky woman Camille is. I wonder if she realizes it. Keeping her poker face, Frances replied, "You're most welcome, Mr. Briggs, and thank you. I'm certain Camille will be most pleased."

Robert Briggs smiled his thin half smile again. Is he mocking me, Frances wondered?

Mr. Briggs said only, "I know she will be pleased." He looked at her for a long moment, making Frances somewhat uneasy. Finally, he said, "Thank Mr. Wooldridge again for me. Good-bye now." As he turned to leave, Frances hurriedly said, "Come see us again."

"I will," he replied, and walked out the door, and out of France's life.

During the next few days, Frances came to consider Robert Briggs her romance that would never be. One of the few things she had learned from him was that he practiced law, so he had to be an attorney. He certainly dressed and spoke like one. He carried himself like one, too. Robert Briggs, the well-mannered, well-to-do professional man with impeccable taste and manners, and good looks to boot, had to be happily married to the fortunate Camille. Say one thing for Frances Goff. She was a good enough person not to want, not really, another woman's man. But, she thought, that doesn't mean I can't wonder about what could have been. It's true what they say. All of the good men are taken.

Robert Briggs' several visits to the Mall Jewelry Shop did have one positive effect on Frances. Although saddened and frustrated at meeting a man so attractive, yet unavailable, Frances began to shake the effects of her two year mourning period. Robert (Mr. Briggs) stirred feelings in her she had not felt in a long time. When he was in the Shop, she felt like a woman again. She knew he was attracted to her, but also knew he did nothing about it because of his marriage to Camille. He's attracted to me, she thought many times, but is the attraction as powerful for him as it is for me? Probably not. He hasn't been widowed and depressed for two years. It's frustrating and cruel to feel this way about a man you cannot have, but at least it's a change from what I've felt since Dan died.

Three weeks passed, and Robert Briggs became a pleasant memory. Frances refused to dwell on what could not be.

One morning, a few days short of a month since her necklace sale to the dashing Robert Briggs, he entered the Shop. Just when she had become able to go all day without thinking of him, he shows up back in the Shop and her life. I suppose, she thought quickly, as he neared her, that Camille needs something else for her jewelry collection.

"Hello, Frances," he said, in his smooth voice. Frances loved his easy-going style. "How are you? It's good so see you again."

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Briggs," she replied, guardedly. She tried to hide her nervousness. "What may I help you with?"

He smiled. What a handsome man. Damn you for showing up here again! "I do not need any jewelry, Frances."

Puzzled, she asked again, "What can I do for you? Did Camille like the necklace? It's very lovely."

Robert Briggs continued to smile, adding to her already bad case of nervousness. "Camille likes the necklace very much. You are right, it is indeed very lovely." He hesitated before continuing, leaving Frances dangling. She wondered if he was OK. Finally, he began to speak again, somewhat nervously, "I did not come here in search of more jewelry. I came to see if you would like to have dinner with me some evening soon." Robert Brigg's face was quickly becoming red as the silk handkerchief in his coat pocket.

Frances was flabbergasted. A million thoughts raced through her mind while she absorbed his last statement. He does like me! He is attracted to me! I knew it! Why me? What about Camille? This last question kicked her in the stomach and back to reality. This man is standing in front of me waiting for a reply. "Why me?" she asked, in a faint voice, so low that Robert Briggs could barely hear it.

"Because I like you and would like to know you better." His voice was low as hers. The Shop was quiet as a tomb.

"Why didn't you ask me out before?" she asked, regaining her composure, "and what about your wife?" Frances was now starting to get indignant, but knew she must keep her cool and her tongue. Mr. Briggs was still a customer.

"My wife?" Robert Briggs was genuinely puzzled.

"Camille."

"Camille is my mother. I am not married."

This statement did render Frances speechless. She stared at him, dumbfounded, while he patiently waited for her to reply. Finally, he asked, "Frances, are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm OK," she replied, as if in a daze. "Camille is your mother, and you want to take me to dinner?"

"Yes."

"Why did you wait a month?" she asked, hesitantly, giving him a quizzical look.

Taking a deep breath, he answered, "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. I was married, until three years ago. My wife ran off with one of my partners, and I haven't seen either of them since. I haven't been out socially much since then, and haven't dated at all. I'm out of practice on how to court a lady." There was an embarrassed look on his handsome face.

Frances offered nothing in reply, and Mr. Briggs began to get flustered. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Frances. I feared that you would have a steady boyfriend, or, at least, many men friends. You are very attractive. I hope you are not offended."

She still said nothing, and Robert Briggs took this as a dismissal. "I'm sorry I bothered you Frances." His face was now a deep shade of red. He thought, at that moment, that he never in his life had been this embarrassed. Frowning, he wanted away from the Mall Jewelry Shop and the lovely Frances as quickly as possible. Again, he said, "I am sorry, Frances. Please forgive me. I will not bother you again." He turned to leave.

"Wait a moment!" she said, in a high voice that sounded like a shout in the quiet shop. "I didn't say no!"

Robert Briggs turned and faced her. It was his turn to be surprised. "Does that mean yes?"

"Yes," she replied, softly.

He grinned; that pleasing Robert Briggs smile. "Well, good. How about Friday night? Is that convenient?" he asked, cautiously.

"Yes," she answered, again in a voice almost too low for him to hear. Mr. Briggs and Frances stared at each other for several moments, neither of them able to think of anything to say. Frances, sensing that her long period of mourning could be over, managed to blurt out, "Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Briggs."

A warm feeling washed over him, a feeling he had not felt in years. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he didn't know what to say. He had much on his mind, much he wanted to tell her. He had liked her the first time he met her, but was now tongue tied. "I have thought of you often. Should I pick you up here?"

"That will be fine." I KNEW he liked me! She thought, excitedly.

He turned to leave, now more relaxed. "I will look forward to it. I will see you Friday evening."

Smiling, she started to tell him good-bye. Before she could speak, he said, "One more thing."

"What?" she asked, a bit warily.

"Do me a favor."

"What?" she sounded like a broken record.

"Please call me Robert."

END

Office Romance

Since coming to work in the Lindquist Insurance Office two years ago, Deborah Watters had opened quite a few eyes. The Lindquist Company was predominantly a company of middle aged persons, slightly over half of them males. Having a young girl like Deborah around was often a distraction; annoying to the women and pleasurable to the men.

Deborah, or Debbie as everyone called her, was 25 years old, an even five feet tall and weighed 95 petite pounds. A very attractive woman, she had blonde hair, which she often wore in a ponytail, blue eyes, and a light, clear complexion. Debbie's face was pretty, and she had a nice smile when she chose to use it. She was outgoing in a nervous sort of way and often put her foot in her mouth. A pert, saucy young woman with a measure of sex appeal, people often got the wrong impression of her.

Debbie was thinking about her Saturday night date. Working in the copy room, doing her usual Monday morning reports, she couldn't believe what a jerk Ned Stacy turned out to be. He seemed like such a nice guy and safe enough. I guess I'm going to have to quit going out with guys I don't know, even if it means weekends alone, she lamented. Ned had been introduced to her by a girlfriend, and he came well recommended. But, he tried to grope her on the way home, and she resisted, almost getting punched in the face for her trouble. At least, she thought, I got home safe this time. She frowned, remembering another incident a year ago when she narrowly avoided date rape, but not a black eye and loose tooth. Paul seemed like a nice guy then, too, she thought bitterly.

Sorting through her mountain of copies, Debbie wondered why she was always unlucky in love. At times, this got her down and she would have to wipe a tear away. Today, it just made her sad and introspective. She moved to Dallas from her parent's home in Kansas two years ago, after she found out the love of her life was married to another woman.

"Miss Watters?"

Debbie looked up from the pile of paperwork she brought from the copy room. She saw a man she did not know -- a very handsome man with a nice smile. "Yes," she answered.

"I'm Robert Burman. I'm new here. Mr. Crandall asked me to ask you to show me around."

"You're the new man," she answered. Mr. Crandall mentioned that a new agent would be here today, and Debbie usually assumed the duty of introducing new people around the office. She offered her hand, "You already know I'm Debbie Watters."

He took her hand. His was warm and strong, and Debbie had a good feeling about Mr. Burman. "I'm pleased to meet, you, Miss Watters."

"Please call me Debbie.'

"Then please call me Robert, or Bob." She decided to call him Robert. He didn't seem like the Bob type. He appeared to be a very well-mannered gentleman. Wish there more of them, she thought. He looked at the papers on her desk. "Is this an inconvenient time for you?"

"Oh no; in fact, it's just about coffee time. The first thing I'll show you is where the break room is."

Robert Burman was 49 years old, 5 feet, 10 inches tall and a still-lean 175 pounds. He was, as Debbie already noticed, handsome and distinguished. Sporting a thin face and straight black hair that was graying on the sides, he looked his age but wore his years very well. A dark, but not too dark, complexion hid his few wrinkles.

The break room was empty. Debbie planned it this way, as she took her break before the mid-morning period that most people preferred. Normally, she liked the silence of the empty break room, and she definitely did not enjoy the company of the women in the office. Most of them thought she was an easy mark for any man who would pay attention to her. This hurt her terribly.

Because the break room was empty, she and Robert sat and sipped their coffee with no distractions. Robert said nothing.

"Where are you from, Robert?" She felt none of the self-consciousness she normally had around men.

"I'm from here."

"Been an insurance man your entire career?"

"Yes. I've been in the business for 25 years. How about you? Where are you from?"

Robert's sudden shift in mood surprised her. "I'm from Kansas. Topeka. I've been here two years. Moved here after my fiancée and I broke up," she offered, glumly.

"You're not married?" he asked.

"No."

"I'm not, either. My wife died several years ago. Breast cancer."

"Sorry to hear that." Debbie couldn't believe how comfortable she felt around him. With most men, she was nervous and tense and always felt inadequate. The flirting she did was just a cover. Debbie Watters was her own worst enemy, always showing the world a false bravado and hiding her real self.

"It's been a while," Robert answered, simply. The look on his face told Debbie it was a painful subject for him to discuss.

Awkwardly, Debbie offered, "Well, I guess I'd better show you around. Have you met anyone yet?"

"You're the first. I was told to report to you this morning."

"You haven't met Mr. Crandall yet?"

"Only by phone."

Flashing a rare smile, she said, "Then we'll start with him."

Robert thought she was very pretty when she smiled. Smiling back at her, he answered, "Thanks for the coffee."

Robert had the typical first day most people have when starting a new job. He met more people than he could remember and the day ended with him very tired and nursing a tension headache. Arriving back to his one bedroom apartment, where he had lived since Karen died, he took two aspirin and plopped down on his bed, grateful for the peace and quiet. He thought about his first day at Lindquist's. It seemed like a good enough place to be. He felt he made a good move, coming over from McKillian's Agency, which was Bill Lindquist's major competitor. Lindquist made him an offer he could not refuse and, with only himself to support, Robert Burman was now, for the first time in his life, secure financially.

This knowledge pleased him and helped ease his headache. But, something else was on Robert's mind. The girl who introduced him to everyone, Debbie Watters, intrigued him. He wondered why the man he overheard in the restroom commented to his companion that "Debbie has a new man to go after." The men chuckled to themselves, not realizing he was in the stall. Before dozing off for his early evening nap, he told himself the man must be mistaken. Debbie didn't seem to be flirtatious or forward with him, just friendly and helpful.

For the first time since Karen's death, Robert fell asleep thinking of another woman.

The next day was a busy one for Debbie and she thought little of Robert. She saw him in the hall a couple of times and in the break room once, exchanging pleasantries each time. A nice fellow, she thought, fleetingly, when saying good morning to him, but she had been fooled before. The older ones are the worst. Her ex-fiancée had been close to Robert Burman's age, and he neglected to tell her of his wife and two teen-age children. Danny's wife suffered a nervous breakdown when she found out about Debbie, and Debbie hadn't fared much better.

Debbie dated older men, mainly because they were the only ones who wanted to have anything to do with her. Most of them were married and were looking for a fling with an attractive young woman. She wasn't proud of her track record, but she figured the men didn't have anything to be proud of either. In bed by herself on lonely nights, she would think about the affairs she had and wonder about the wives of her lovers. Debbie was not a bad person at heart, but she was lonely and vulnerable.

Robert was busy this Tuesday, also. He spent the day settling into his new job and meeting clients and co-workers. He had little time for anything else. He had lunch with Mr. Crandall and several of the other agents and worked late at the office, getting home in the middle of the evening.

When he did get home, he found himself thinking of Debbie. It surprised him that he would think of a girl this young as an interesting woman. His daughter, Jan, was probably older than her. He chuckled to himself as he pondered this, and thought also that he had been lonely for too long when a woman younger than his children seemed attractive. He frowned when he thought again about the man's comment in the men's room yesterday.

Thinking of Debbie, the walls of his modest apartment seemed to close in on him. My God, he thought, she fascinates me! I've spent one coffee break with this girl and a couple of hours on business, and I can't quit thinking of her!

He decided to catch her at coffee break again soon.

"Good morning, Debbie," he said, as he entered the break room and headed towards the coffee pot.

"Hi, how're you getting along?" Debbie liked Robert. She liked the way she felt around him.

"Fine," he grinned, "You?"

"OK. Like it here so far?"

"So far." Robert paid closer attention to her now than he did two days ago. He liked what he saw. It was hard for him to believe a woman this attractive was still single at her age. (Her birth date was 03-11-69 according to the company roster he viewed yesterday). He felt comfortable with her and could tell she felt comfortable with him. He wanted to know her better.

"Good," she answered, simply.

"I remember you told me that you are unmarried. Are you in a relationship?"

"No."

Normally a reserved man, Robert surprised himself with the boldness of his next question. "Why don't we have lunch together? I haven't been very sociable since Karen died. I would enjoy having someone to visit with."

Debbie was surprised by his sudden request for a lunch date. He didn't seem like the type to hustle young women. She didn't dare hope the man was what he seemed to be. Still, she said, "Sounds good. When?"

"Today?"

She smiled, "Fine. 11:30 OK?"

He smiled, too. "11:30."

Robert and Debbie went to a small restaurant around the corner from the office. Not normally a big eater at lunch time, Robert was hungrier than usual and he ordered a burger with cheese. Debbie ordered a salad.

"Thanks for coming," he told her, as they waited for their meal.

"Thanks for asking."

It's been a very long time since I was out with an attractive young woman."

"Thanks again."

He was pleased she wasn't nervous or offended by this remark. "Tell me about yourself."

"You already know the interesting stuff," she sighed, taking a sip of her iced tea. She was about to continue when the waitress arrived with their food. She waited until served and Robert was munching on his hamburger before continuing. "I've been here two years. I moved here from Topeka after I found out my fiancée was married and had a family." She paused before adding, "Ed was about your age."

These words pleased Robert. So, she likes older men. "I imagine that was quite a shock." Robert realized what a silly understatement this was, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. It was a shock, all right. I'm kind of like you. Since that time, I've dated some, but nothing serious." She was hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground. All of a sudden it was important to her that Robert not know about her affairs. At least, not yet. She was certain he would know soon. "Didn't you say your wife's name was Karen?" How long have been alone now?"

"A little over three years." He smiled a sad smile, "Karen and I had a wonderful marriage. Jan and Bob have handled it better than I. When you have 24 happy years with someone, you miss it when it's over."

"I'll bet," Debbie replied. "How old are your children?"

"Jan is 26 and Bob Jr. is 24."

"Do they live here?"

"Jan does. Bob lives in Austin. He's getting established as an architect. Jan is a physical therapist."

"Sounds like you have talented kids."

"Thanks." Robert finished his sandwich. Debbie noticed he was not messy.

It had been an enjoyable meal with much conversation, but it was time to return to the office. On the walk back to the Lindquist building, Robert felt like a high school boy. He wanted to ask her out, but he was nervous as he was the night he asked Karen to marry him. He chuckled out loud.

"What's so funny?" Debbie asked.

Robert stopped walking and flashed a sheepish grin, "I want to ask you out, but I'm nervous as a cat. I'm way out of practice with this sort of thing."

Debbie was touched by the man's sensitivity. "Where did you want to take me?"

"I had Thomas' in mind." Thomas' was a seafood restaurant in the downtown area.

Debbie was thrilled. "I'll go if asked." She looked up and smiled at him.

Robert was becoming more aware of her sex appeal. It's been a long time since I touched a woman, he thought. "You're asked."

"When are we going?"

"How about Saturday night? Eight O'clock. That will give you all day to get beautiful." It had also been a long time since Robert flirted with anyone. He was feeling like a man again.

"Saturday is great, but I'll need more than a day to get beautiful," she said, coyly.

They were standing on the sidewalk, with Robert feeling very self-conscious. He noticed his hands in his pockets, something he did only when nervous. Still, he felt better now than he had in long, long time. "If we don't get back to work, you may have more time than you want to prepare for Saturday night."

Wednesday afternoon went slowly, and Debbie had time to think while she tried to look busy at her desk. Robert's invitation pleased her. The man had taken her to lunch, kept the conversation clean and his hands to himself. Most of the men she went out with steered the conversation to sex as soon as possible and wanted to caress her at every opportunity. Being with a man who was well-mannered and practiced restraint was a welcome change.

I wonder what Karen was like, she thought, as she mindlessly doodled on a piece of blue line. Robert spoke of her only in general terms. Aside from the obvious fact that he loved her very much, he offered no details as to what kind of woman she was. He doesn't keep a picture of her on his desk, she realized. She laughed to herself. I've been on one lunch date with Robert Burman and I'm wondering what his wife was like! Her thoughts turned to what she would wear Saturday night. She found herself looking forward to an evening with him.

Robert spent Wednesday afternoon in a state of near euphoria. He still couldn't believe he was actually dating a girl this young! I wonder what Karen would think? He smiled, as he placed personal effects around his small cubicle. He didn't think Karen would mind. Towards the end, Karen said she didn't expect him to live the rest of his life alone. For a moment, Robert's happy mood was dampened, but he realized it was time to quit mourning. If nothing else came of his friendship with Debbie, he had, at least, learned this.

Robert Burman was a man of above-average intelligence and an astute observer. In less than three days, he had learned Debbie was not well-liked at Lindquist's. He saw that she was self-conscious around most of her co-workers, and was glad she wasn't that way around him. Arriving back from lunch with Debbie a couple of hours ago, several of the women made remarks around him. Carol Loughrey, the agent in the cubicle next to his, commented that, "I guess it's your turn," and another woman, whose name he could not remember, let him overhear a remark to a friend, "The new fella's chasing Debbie around already." Several of the men had given him odd looks this afternoon, the type of look one man gives to another when one of them is about to score with a woman and both of them know it.

Debbie took his mind off of Karen. He was infatuated. He thought of her blonde hair and smooth skin, as he hung his portable coat hangar across the top of his cubicle, and thought again of how long it was since he had been in the arms of a woman. He considered Debbie to be very nice and sweet, and it pained him to think of her being stung by an unscrupulous man. He hoped he could be the man to help her get over the pain, as she had already helped him with his. The comments and looks he received because of her did not bother him in the least.

"Have you been here before?" Robert asked her, as they entered Thomas'. Thomas' had an excellent reputation for steak and seafood.

"Once, right after I moved here." Debbie looked very pretty for her evening with Robert. She wore a pale green evening dress, short, but not too short, and complemented it with the pearl necklace her mother had given her on her 21st birthday. Her light beige pumps matched her lipstick, and she wore her hair with short bangs in front, with her usual short ponytail in back. She looked terrific.

Robert noticed. He was barely able to take his eyes off of her. A gentleman of the old school, he didn't want to be crass in any way. He longed to touch her, to take her in his arms and kiss her, but knew that tonight he would not. These emotions raced through his mind as he asked, "Did you like it?"

"Oh yes, very much." She was pleased not to feel the panic she often did when with a man she did not know well. Her mind raced. I've known him five days. Seems like longer, but he's easy to talk to and be around. He looks very good tonight. I like him in a black suit and red tie. I'm glad he asked me out.

They were seated immediately, thanks to Robert's calling ahead on Thursday to make reservations. Each enjoyed a glass of wine before ordering dinner.

"You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you." Robert possessed an elegance she was not used to.

"I thought my days of squiring a beautiful young woman around town were over," he smiled.

"Are you squiring a beautiful young woman around town?" she asked.

"Tonight I am." He reached for her hand. She did not pull away.

"Thank you for bringing me."

"The pleasure is mine. I hope you enjoy dinner."

The waiter arrived with menus. After a short discussion, they ordered the seafood platter for two, the house specialty. The waiter thanked them and departed.

They talked of many things during the next hour and 45 minutes. Robert and Debbie could talk to each other and talk they did. Although Thomas' was busy as usual this Saturday night, they enjoyed a leisurely meal. He told her of a good marriage to a wonderful woman, the joys and pains of raising a family, and the ups and downs experienced during 25 years in the insurance business. He spoke of his anguish over Karen's long bout with cancer and slow death, of how his emotional lamps had been out since then, and of how important his children were to him now.

She listened and empathized. When he finished his story, she told him hers. She was the only child of a doctor and housewife. A somewhat spoiled, shy girl, she was an underachiever in school and had difficulty making friends. After graduating from junior college, she got a job for a newspaper and met Ed. She fell deeply in love with him and was crushed when she discovered his other life. She told him she understood what he meant when he said his emotional lamps were out because hers had been out for awhile, too. She thought moving to Dallas, where a favorite aunt lived, would help her get over it, but it had not.

They left Thomas', full of good food and warm feelings for each other. They didn't talk much on the way to Debbie's apartment. She invited him in when they arrived, and he accepted the invitation. He told her he would not stay long.

"I want to see your place, and then I'll go."

"Want a cup of coffee?"

"Yes." Before she could reply, he told her, "This night has meant a lot to me."

"It's meant a lot to me too, Robert. Let's go in." She turned the key in the lock, and stepped in to her small apartment, which was slightly larger than Robert's. He followed her in and shut the door as she switched on the end table lamp. They made the short walk to the kitchen and Debbie started the coffee brewing.

"I hope you'll see me again."

"I'd like that."

"You're very beautiful. Nice, too."

"Thank you," she answered, quietly. She had thanked him several times tonight for compliments and kind remarks. She was falling for him.

"I think I'd better have my coffee and go," he said, soberly.

She nodded her head in agreement. She served the coffee and they drank in silence, sitting across from one another at her tiny kitchen table, studying each other much as they did at Thomas', only now in quiet contemplation. When Robert finished, he rose to leave. She rose with him and walked him to the door.

He hadn't meant to do this, but it seemed right. He took her in his arms, quietly said, "Thank you for tonight," and kissed her, not too hard, but not lightly. "Goodnight. I'll see you Monday." Then he left.

Debbie sat in her living room for a long time, making no effort to get undressed or clean up the small mess in the kitchen. She sat and thought for a long time in silence. Sometime after midnight, she finally rose, went to the bedroom, took her clothes off and went to bed, falling asleep immediately. She slept a deep, satisfying sleep.

Robert slept well that night, too. The sweet anticipation of good things to come was enough this time, for both of them knew a second chance at happiness had been granted. If it was not love at first sight, it was certainly love within one week, and both realized it. More long talks and passionate evenings would follow, but the memory of dinner at Thomas' and coffee in Debbie's kitchen on this magical Saturday night would stay with them forever.

Robert and Debbie quickly became an item around the office. When he was not in the field visiting clients, they spent their breaks and lunches together. Within two weeks of the memorable night at Thomas', they progressed speedily from hand-holding to passionate kisses, to, ultimately, intimate sex. They spent all of their evenings together, unless Robert had late calls to make. Several weeks went by, and they began to discuss the future and possible marriage.

Robert was well-liked at Lindquist's. Soft-spoken, well-mannered, and friendly, he was particularly popular with the ladies, who could not understand what he saw in Debbie Watters. Certainly enough effort had been made to clue him in to what kind of woman he was in love with, but in love he was, and the blinders were on. Carol Loughrey's attitude was one which was shared by most of Robert's new co-workers. How to get Robert to come to his senses without alienating him and hurting his feelings?

Nobody cared whether Debbie's feelings were hurt, or not.

Debbie's "affairs" and "loose living" were more false perception now than fact, but it was the reputation she had to live with. She made the mistake of getting intimate with any man who showed interest in her during her first year here, including a couple of the married men at Lindquist's, but she came to her senses after the frightening experience with Paul. Robert was the only man she had been intimate with in the last year. She pondered this as she worked in the copy room one Tuesday morning, a little over a month since she and Robert made love for the first time. It's different with him. I loved Ed, too, but with Robert it's really special. She smiled to herself, the happy, contented smile of a woman in love and sure of her partner's love. Robert told her much of his marriage to Karen during the last few weeks, and she was grateful he did. Debbie wondered why she thought of Karen so much and wondered if it was healthy. She decided it was. Robert described a wonderful woman when speaking of Karen and reinforced what she already knew. She was in love with a good man, the first one she had the good fortune to be involved with.

Frowning now, Debbie worried about her past behavior, and present reputation, with the Lindquist people. There was no way Robert could have avoided the office gossip about her, particularly when officing next to that witch, Carol Loughrey. Still, she had not been able to bring herself to confront him with it. She was terrified of losing him. The thought of this caused her hands to shake, dropping a set of copies to the floor of the small copy room. I'm going to have to soon, though, she realized. If we're going to go on in this relationship, this has to be addressed. Although scared and frustrated, Debbie determined to talk with him soon, maybe tonight.

Robert's influence brought out a new maturity in his young lover. She ceased flirting with men and carried herself with a new self-confidence. Her work improved and her relations with the women were starting to improve, ever so slightly. But, Carol decided something had to be done to save Robert from this frivolous young girl, one who would ultimately make a fool of him. As Debbie picked up her fumbled papers in the copy room, Carol sat in the library alone and composed a letter.

Robert:

This is from several of your friends that are concerned about you.

We have observed your infatuation with Debbie Watters and have hoped

it would pass, but now realize it will not. Please accept what we say in

the proper spirit. Debbie is not the girl for you. She has had affairs with

several of the married men in this office, and who-knows-who else outside

of here? She behaves like a lady around you, but she is no lady.

Your friends.

Robert returned from several client visits about 3:00 and found this note on his desk.

Robert read the note after taking off his coat and getting a cold coke from the machine in the break room. His face turned white after reading it.

He had paid no attention to the snide comments and derogatory remarks about Debbie. He tuned them out. Now, he could no longer do that. They were on this piece of paper in black and white. All that had been said about Debbie now sunk in. "I guess it's your turn." "Debbie has a new man to go after." "The new fella's chasing Debbie around already." These and the other countless comments he ignored, until now, slammed into him like a ton of bricks. He plopped into his chair, his mind spinning. He loved her, but what kind of woman did he love?

He sat and gathered himself. He didn't know what to do. He knew a person should not be judged on office gossip, but just about everybody in the office had, in one way or another, tried to warn him. He didn't think Debbie could be so unpopular that there would be an organized vendetta against her. There must be some truth to these accusations! He was calmer now and thinking clearly again, and had gone from emotional shock to numbness. Why hadn't she told him everything? Should I ask her about any of this? If she wouldn't tell me voluntarily, will she after I ask her? Robert stared at the note in his hands and the unopened coke can on his desk and fought back tears.

Carol, in the next cubicle over, noticed the absence of activity in Robert's cubicle. He was sitting in silence, and she was certain he read her anonymous message. Not a vindictive person with people she liked, Carol knew this would cripple the romance with Debbie Watters. He's hurting now, but the pain will pass, she reasoned. Robert is too good a man for the likes of her.

The phone rang in his office. "Robert Burman."

"Hi."

"Hi Debbie." Robert, trying to camouflage his mood but not doing a very good job of it, sounded flat.

"You OK?" Debbie was concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine." He didn't reply. She then said, "I need to talk to you. Is tonight OK?" Usually they spent evenings together, but occasionally Robert had late afternoon changes in his client schedule and would have to meet with the ones in the evening who could not see him during the day.

"Tonight's fine. See you after work." His voice was flat, distant.

Debbie was alarmed. Maybe tonight's not a good time. He's worried about something. But, maybe we'll talk about that, too. "Good. See you after work. My place?"

"That's fine. See you later."

"Good. Love you."

"Love you, too." He said it without emotion. Debbie thought he must be having a serious problem with a client. She had never seen him in this kind of mood.

Robert and Debbie had a routine. After work, Robert would return to his apartment and take a short nap. Around 7:00, he would go to her place, or she to his, and they would either eat something in, or go out. They would spend the remainder of the evening enjoying each other's company. Although physically intimate for several weeks, Robert slept in his apartment and she in hers.

Robert arrived at her place at 7:15. He knocked twice, his "special" knock.

Opening the door, Debbie invited him in. "You sounded kind of down over the phone." She was nervous.

"Maybe a little. You hungry?"

"Not really. I want to tell you something, and then maybe I'll be hungry."

"OK." Robert wondered if she was pregnant.

She took a deep breath. Nervously, she began, "I know you have heard gossip about me. Things have been said around the office. Well, some of those things are true. When I first got here, I slept around some." Her hands were shaking and her voice trembled, but she continued. She only wanted to say this once. "Maybe I should have told you all of this before, but I was afraid to. I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

There was a long silence as he carefully considered his reply. "Maybe I don't understand," he finally said.

"I did a lot of things I'm not proud of my first year here. Almost getting raped brought me back to my senses."

"After Karen died, I had no desire to sleep around."

This statement angered her, but she kept her cool. "Robert, that's different! You were an older, successful businessman and your wife died. It's not the same thing as being dumped on by an older man!" She hated him for making her humiliate herself, but she realized he really did not understand. He led such a different life.

"So you had to make yourself available to any man that came along?"

His calm voice infuriated her, but she struggled to control herself. She realized her future happiness was in the balance. "Look, it's different when you're a girl. After I found out about Ed, I was suicidal and depressed. Until I met you, Ed was the only man who ever treated me right, and that turned out to be a big act!" Her voice rose as she warmed to her topic, "I was 23 years old, damn it, with no self-esteem! I was lonely and miserable and would do anything to please any man that showed interest! I'm not proud of it, but that's how it was!" She wiped a tear away and continued before Robert could reply. "You probably already know this, but you're going to hear it anyway. I bar-hopped. I dated married men, some of them from the office. Do you know that one of the Lindquist guys asked me to have sex with his wife? Know what? I almost did it, just to please him!" She was crying now, and cursing herself for doing so. "I quit doing these things over a year ago. I was as bored as you were when we met. That's the truth!"

Robert was stunned. He honestly didn't know what to think. His mind reeled when he thought of Debbie actually considering getting in bed with a co-worker's wife. He stared at her, a blank, what-do-I-say-next stare. He was speechless.

Debbie regained her composure. Seeing Robert in a state of shock, she said, "I think it's best if you go. I'm not hungry."

He agreed. "Yes, I think so, "he replied, weakly." We'll talk some more tomorrow."

He headed for the door. He had not even sat down or taken off his jacket. This conversation commenced the moment he arrived.

As he exited, she said, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, Robert."

The door shut and she heard his footsteps on the sidewalk. As they faded away into the young evening, the gravity of the situation stabbed into her like a blade into the heart. She sat on her small sofa and sobbed, silently as she could. Bitter thoughts returned after the absence of several weeks. All those lousy men I did everything for and couldn't please are going to cost me the only good man I've ever had! Damn them! Damn him!

After a while, she went to the kitchen and retrieved the Jim Beam bottle from the pantry and fixed herself a stiff drink. When she finished, she had another, then another, until the bottle was empty. She passed out, still in her clothes, on the sofa shortly after midnight.

They saw each other the next day, but said little to each other. Robert, noticing Debbie's haggard appearance as he passed her in the hall outside the break room just after arriving at 7:00, asked if she was OK. She curtly replied, "Yes." He decided not to press it, and avoided the break room the rest of the morning. He did not ask her to lunch, preferring instead to stay at his desk and catch up on some paper work. He was not hungry, anyway. Debbie contemplated asking him to join her for coffee later in the afternoon, but decided against it. She needed the day to think and recover from her hangover. Thank goodness Wednesday was a light day for her.

Robert met her in the break room Thursday morning, staying long enough only to invite her to lunch. Hesitatingly, she agreed. Back at his desk with coffee in hand, Robert still could not accept Debbie's behavior after breaking up with Ed, could not accept her sleeping around from man to man. He grimaced when he remembered, for what seemed like the hundredth time, that Debbie, the woman he was in love with and was about to propose to, had come close to agreeing to a lesbian encounter for the sake of an unknown co-worker! His large hands gripped his coffee cup. I would like to know who made that sick proposition, he wished, angrily. It's probably a good thing she didn't tell me who it was. I do enjoy working here! He chuckled bitterly and decided to concentrate on work until lunch time. Although heartbroken and keenly disappointed in Debbie, he was grateful she agreed to see him at noon. Maybe this is a nightmare I will wake up from before then. He picked up the receiver of his telephone and placed the first of many calls he would make before the noon hour.

Debbie, feeling better, had not wanted to talk to him at noon, preferring an evening date, where they could talk as long as they wished without having to worry about the time. She knew she would probably be stressed out this afternoon after lunching with him, but he made the overture and she did not want to shut him out. So, noon it was. Luckily, Thursday was usually another light day for her, as Mondays and Fridays were her busy times.

He came by her desk and got her, and they strolled over to the same cafe they dined in on their first lunch together weeks ago. Today, neither was hungry, and both ordered small salads and iced tea.

"Thanks for coming," he told her, after ordering.

"Thanks for asking. This sounds like a replay of our first lunch together," she said, forcing a weak giggle.

"What you told me was on my mind, anyway, the other night. Look at this." He showed her the anonymous note that had been left on his desk.

"When did you get this?" she asked, shakily, after reading it twice.

"Just before you called and told me you wanted to talk," he answered dryly.

"Have any idea who wrote this?"

"No. You?"

"Could be anybody." She looked into his eyes, "You know my reputation in the Lindquist office."

He did, but said nothing. Instead, he told her, "I guess you know I was shocked. Shocked when I read this note and shocked with what you told me. Getting it twice in short order kind of knocked me out for awhile."

"I understand. But, I want to know, how do you feel about this? How do you feel about ME!? You knew all of these things. You've heard enough gossip!" She was determined not to lose control again. Not here, not now.

"Yes, I knew. I suppose I just tuned it out. A man in love sees and hears what he wishes to see and hear." He smiled, thinly, as he said this.

The salads arrived, and neither ate heartily. Robert ate about half of his, Debbie only picked at hers. After a long silence, Debbie stated, "You haven't answered my question. Do you still love me?" She felt as if a hot brick that was lying in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know. I need to think about this. If we stay together, if we get married, I fear I will constantly see all those men."

Debbie had to remember Robert was a quarter century older than she, and from the old school. From what she could tell from Robert's remarks, he and Karen were both virgins when they married. What she found so attractive in him was now working against her. "Well, I guess we'd better be getting back." She was fighting mightily to not start crying again. They had little to say to each other on the way back to Lindquist's. Before entering the building, Debbie told him to "Call me when you make your mind up. I love you." She made no effort to kiss him.

Debbie was a woman who deserved the affection of a fine man. She had given up her flirty, self-conscious ways and now conducted herself in a quiet, dignified manner. (Even Carol noticed it, although she was yet to be convinced she had really changed her man-chasing lifestyle. Just more discreet about it, she thought). During this last year, and particularly since meeting Robert, she matured greatly and was now a lady in every sense of the word, in both thought and deed.

Robert knew this, but he still could not handle the knowledge of her past. In the two weeks following their last lunch, he thought of her constantly. His work suffered, and it was common knowledge around the office there was trouble between he and Debbie. Carol made certain everyone knew why.

He would go home to his small apartment in the evenings. He could do nothing but think of her. He loved her, wanted her, and knew what a fine woman she was now. But, he knew what kind of woman she had been, and was afraid the old Debbie would eventually resurface. He was so much older than she, he thought one evening, while failing again to get a nap in, and she will get tired of me someday and go back to her old ways. He felt the age old predicament that men since Adam have felt: He could not live with her, and could not live without her.

Debbie, too, thought of little else but Robert during this time. Holiday season was coming on, and she desperately wanted this issue resolved, one way or the other. Sitting in front of the television this same evening, she determined that, if Robert says good-bye for good, I'm moving back to Topeka. I can handle it there now, but I won't be able to handle it here anymore. It worried her that she had scarcely spoken to Robert in over two weeks. She would have already resigned from Lindquist's, if this issue with Robert were resolved. In the last couple of weeks since her falling out with him had become common knowledge, several men in the office, including the one wanting her for a menage-a-trois, had called her. She could barely hide her disgust with these seemingly respectable businessmen. I can't believe I used to play their games, she lamented. One way, or another, I'm getting away from here. Away from Lindquist's and away from here.

She began to make mental travel plans. She believed Robert wanted nothing to do with her.

Life's fortunes take strange turns, and, had Jim Callaway not come back from lunch drunk a couple of days later, Robert Burman may very well have been foolish enough to let the second love of his life pass him by. Debbie was at the water fountain, filling a small coffee cup, when Jim came in from a too-long lunch with another agent. Jim Callaway was an alcoholic who had fallen off of the wagon half a year ago, after having stayed sober for over five years. Once a handsome man, he now looked like what he was, an overweight, dissipated middle-age man with a severe drinking problem. When he saw Debbie, he came over to the water cooler, and put his arm around her. "Hi, baby, how ya doin?" he asked in a slurred voice.

"I'm fine, Mr. Callaway," she answered, smiling at him as she spoke.

"Got time for me since your boyfriend lost interest?"

Those words stung, but she kept her composure, "I'm sorry, no." She tried without success to break free of his grasp. Lisa Martin, another agent who sat close to Robert, saw what was going on and went to tell him what was going on.

"Robert, maybe you better check on Debbie. Jim Callaway is giving her a hard time at the fountain."

He rose from his desk and asked, "What's going on?"

"Jim's been drinking and he's making a pest of himself."

Robert, until now straddling the fence over the issue with Debbie, found himself immediately concerned with her welfare. He realized, at this moment, he had been behaving like a fool. Something as harmless as a drunken sot in an office full of witnesses made him see what several weeks of soul-searching had not. Although Lisa had an air of concern about her, a tremendous burden had been lifted from Robert's shoulders. Smiling, he said, "Let's go see what's going on."

At the water fountain, Jim's actions were anything but harmless. He had Debbie pinned up against the wall, fondling her breasts and attempting to kiss her. Robert's jaw went tight when he saw this. He lunged at Jim, pulling him off of her and shouting, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What do you care? I thought you were history." Shoving Robert back, hard, he added, "Get the hell off of me!" Debbie ran, crying , into the women's restroom.

Robert was not a violent man and never a good fist fighter, even when a boy on the playground 40 years before. But, he was dangerous when angered. In a low, ominous voice, he said, "Leave her alone."

Too drunk to care about the crowd around them, Jim snarled, "With you out of the way, we have our party girl back. Go stuff it, pal."

Jim was ready for him this time, standing in front of Robert with clenched fists, waiting for his next move. With Mr. Crandall watching, Robert did not take the bait. Calmly, he said, "Jim, calm down and go wash yourself off." The men stood motionless, each waiting for the other to make the next move. "Jim," Robert said, quietly, "go get cleaned up. What would Marcia think?"

Jim grinned, and moved his face toward Robert's, leaving barely two inches between noses. It was his turn to speak in a low voice and he said, "Marcia will be disappointed. She likes her, too."

When Jim woke up on Bill Lindquist's office sofa, he had, besides a scowling security guard standing over him and a splitting headache, a nasty bruise on his cheek, with the center of the bruise a darker and deeper color. Robert hit him flush on the jaw with his right hand, the hand he wore his college ring on. Jock Crandall, who saw and heard everything, took no disciplinary action against Robert, who sported a nasty bruise of his own on his ring finger. Normally, violence in the office was grounds for dismissal.

Bill Lindquist did dismiss Jim Callaway, who resisted all help since falling off of the wagon and already had a sexual harassment complaint pending against him before today's assault on Debbie. When it was determined Callaway could leave under his own power, the security guard escorted him out of the building, with orders to instruct him to "never set foot on Lindquist property again."

Mr. Lindquist told Robert and Debbie to take the remainder of the afternoon off. Before leaving, Robert asked her to join him. "Let's go to my place and talk. I need to ice this finger. It hurts like hell."

"Debbie, I've been a fool. It took this situation to get me to see how important you are to me. Please forgive me." He took a sip of his drink with his left hand, while his right was wrapped in ice. "My head aches. Hope this helps." He raised his glass in toast. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she toasted back. They were drinking 100 proof bourbon and feeling better.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

He reached over and kissed her tenderly. "You're a wonderful woman."

"Thank you."

"I'm anxious for you to meet Bob and Jan."

"I'm looking forward to it. Hope they don't treat me like a kid sister."

"They won't."

"You know it was Carol who left the note on your desk?" she offered, nervously.

"I know. Since we're both leaving, she won't be a problem anymore."

"You're going to quit?" she asked, the surprise in her voice amusing him.

"Yes,” he grinned.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to McKillian's."

"They'll take you back?"

"With open arms."

"Robert, I love you," she said, tenderly.

He kissed her, a deep, passionate, time-for-other-things kiss. "I love you too, sweetheart," he answered, in a low, whispery voice. "Thanks for waiting on me."

END

The Second Chance

“You look lovely tonight, Sarah." Christopher beamed, after being seated. He was so happy to be here with her.

"Thank you." She smiled back at him, pleased with his kind words.

"Have you been here before?"

"Ralph and I used to come occasionally."

He frowned, a look of stress forming on his handsome face. "I'm sorry. I should have suspected."

"There is no way you could have known. Please don't worry about it, Christopher."

Her voice was soft and low. Christopher had to strain to hear her. As the waiter took their wine orders, he was grateful the restaurant was quiet and not crowded. My goodness, he thought, Sarah is almost my age and she is still such a beautiful woman. "Well, I suppose I am too sensitive about saying anything to upset you."

She smiled; a warmer, richer smile this time. Her blue eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit restaurant, contrasting nicely with her dark brown hair, which she wore straight tonight. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Ralph and I had 31 good years together. My only regret is he suffered so the last few months." Her voiced trailed off as Christopher patiently waited for her to continue. "However, I am glad to see you again. It was quite a pleasant surprise to see you in our office." The warmth of her voice convinced him of her sincerity.

Those words thrilled him! He, too, had lost a spouse within the last year. His, however, had left him for a younger man. He and Veronica had been married longer than Ralph and Sarah, but, in retrospect, he now saw that his marriage had never really been a good one. He should have married Sarah years ago when he had the chance. What a fool he was then. He almost allowed himself to get caught up in his thoughts, but the expectant expression on Sarah's face brought him quickly around. "I was delighted to see you. I have enjoyed, more than you know, our evenings together the last couple of weeks."

"I have enjoyed them, too." This time, a thin, Mona Lisa smile.

Christopher and Sarah had dined together half a dozen times since the chance meeting in her office. So far, they had talked of family and business; getting caught up on each other's lives since breaking up 32 years ago. It seemed strange to Christopher that the elegant and still beautiful Sarah seemed to have no man in her life. Losing Ralph really hurt her, he guessed. Tonight, he was determined to take the conversation, and their new relationship, to the next level. He took a deep breath. "Sarah, I want you to know that I care about you very much. This may sound hollow coming from a man who broke up with you and married another woman, but, breaking up with you was a mistake. Marrying Veronica was a mistake; a 31 year mistake, and I'm not just saying that because she left me. I was infatuated with her and did a very foolish thing." Christopher felt like a grade school boy explaining his misbehavior to a stern teacher. "I'm glad you had a good life with Ralph, but...I guess what I'm asking for is a second chance."

Sarah studied him. Still a handsome man at age 60, Christopher bore a striking resemblance to the film star Cary Grant. Veronica had been a fool not to love and appreciate him. She considered for a long moment what he had just said to her. Sarah took quiet satisfaction in watching him squirm. "You broke my heart," she said, simply.

She may as well have pierced his heart with a poisoned arrow. Shame, guilt, and sadness washed over him as water under a bridge. He did not feel this bad when Veronica left him. His cheeks burned and his stomach churned as he said, "I know its way too late to say I'm sorry, but, I am. I love you, Sarah, I always have, and would like to be part of your life again." Christopher fought desperately not to break down in front of her.

Sarah put her glass of wine down and studied him closely. She had thought of him often through the years, knew that Veronica was not the right woman for him. She knew Christopher would have come back to her years ago had she not met and fallen in love with Ralph as quickly as she did. With a slight coolness in her voice, she answered, "I'm going to have to think about it."

"If you give me another chance, you won't regret it," he said, solemnly, grateful not to be dismissed out of hand.

"We'll see. I think we had better order."

Randolph Sturrup was a no-nonsense insurance executive who ruled his regional office with an iron fist, but he had a soft spot in his heart for Sarah Lesser. She had worked for him a dozen years and he considered her a wonderful lady who was an excellent accountant. He had known Ralph well, and shared Sarah's pain when leukemia finally took Ralph from her. He was surprised when she asked for a favor.

"Would you invite Christopher Benjamin in for a couple of days?" she asked him one day several weeks ago.

"I suppose I can do that, but why someone from so far away?"

"I understand he's one of the better independent auditors in the area, and he has an impeccable reputation. It would be a good idea to have him look at our books before we're told to have it done. Remember that problem with the Haley account a few months ago? I'm still answering questions about it."

Randolph remembered it, all right. It had almost gotten him re-assigned, and it worried him that Sarah was still being questioned about it. "Okay, I'll see if he can come in."

Sarah was remembering this conversation the next morning at her desk. Christopher had finally gotten around to telling her he loved her, and she was savoring the moment when Randolph stopped by her office.

"I understand you had dinner with Christopher Benjamin again last night. It's none of my business, but are you two becoming an item? He's been in town since he did that job for us."

"A man that owns his own business can work anywhere he chooses," she answered, coyly.

"I'm glad to see you happy again. I'm also relieved he found all of our books in order. He told me he was puzzled that I invited him in. As you asked, I didn't tell him it was your idea."

"Just keeping our you-know-whats covered, just in case."

"Are you and he becoming serious?" This time he asked in an answer-me tone of voice.

"We're going to be married. Is that serious enough?" Randolph was not certain if the look on her face was playful or mocking.

"Well, I guess it is," he smiled. "When is the big day?"

"I don't know."

"When will you know?" Eleanor and I would like to do something for you."

Sarah cocked her head and smiled sweetly. At that instant, Randolph knew there was much more to this than he realized. "I'm not certain when I will know. He hasn't asked me yet."

END