Valentine's Dream: Love Changes EverythingSweet SensationMade in Heaven Page 18

  “Langston Hughes,” Val corrected him.

  Conroy looked annoyed at being interrupted. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Langston Hughes wrote the poem about bathing in the Euphrates River.”

  “Oh. Whatever. As I was saying...”

  Val knew poetry, and this guy was no scholar. It irritated her that he didn’t even bother to acknowledge his error. Then she wondered how many other women he’d regaled with this tale. If the man had done any bathing at all, it was in the bottle of cologne he’d doused himself with before coming to the restaurant.

  My God. I’m going to be thirty next week and my life has been reduced to this, Val thought.

  “My masseur comes to the house three times a week. You’d like the exercise room in my home. I custom-designed the twelve-hundred-square-foot center for my needs and work out with my personal trainer every day. Valerie, I think we have something going here. I’d like to see you again. You’re a little on the heavy side, but my personal trainer can handle that. You’re such a pretty woman. My personal trainer can get rid of those few unsightly extra pounds you carry. Have you ever been to Belize? It’s a wonderful country.”

  That’s it, Val thought. I’m outta here.

  Pleading a headache, she ended the date. Conroy pulled the Maserati into the parking space and Val hopped out of the car before he could turn the engine off.

  Val let herself into her condo. She kicked off the high-heeled pumps she wore and came to a conclusion. Thirty might be staring her in the face, but if all the available men were like Conroy T. Franklin—and it sure seemed like they were—Val preferred to be single until she drew her last breath.

  Val misted her plants as she listened to the two messages on her answering system. Who in the world would be calling on a Friday night?

  “Valentine, darling, this is your mother. Your father and I are looking forward to next week. We have a surprise for you. Call me sometime tomorrow, sweetheart. Love you much.”

  Val groaned. Surprises from her parents didn’t bode well. And the unwelcome reminder about her birthday didn’t lift her spirits.

  The second message started. “Hey, girl. It’s Shelley.”

  “And Kalinda,” another voice piped up. “How was the big date with Mr. Independent Successful Businessman?”

  “Girl, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with that one,” Shelley said on the recording.

  “Get to the real message, Shell. You’re gonna run out of time,” Kalinda admonished.

  Val grinned. Her two best friends were a trip.

  “Oh, yeah. Val, have we got the birthday present for you. You have to get it early, though, to get ready for next week. We’re gonna give it to you when we go out tomorrow. See you at noon. Bye, Val.”

  Kalinda echoed her farewell on the message.

  Val finished misting the plants and replaced the sprayer under the kitchen sink. She opened the pantry and stared at the calendar tacked inside the door. February 14 loomed out at her. Her mother had put a little red heart sticker on the date. Val frowned.

  For years people told her that being born on Valentine’s Day was romantic. Val didn’t see anything romantic about it. Valentine’s Day was a racket. Look what it had done to her parents. Quentin and Naomi Sanders had been married for twenty years when they decided to call it quits on their marriage. The two had remained friends, though, and never ceased regaling their only daughter with the story of how they met one day in a department store. The very next week, on Valentine’s Day, Quentin Sanders proposed to Naomi. Love at first sight, they claimed. A couple of years later, when their baby girl was born two minutes after midnight on February 14, the two had just the name for the cute infant.

  Val didn’t believe in love at first sight. Her parents stayed together long enough to raise her in a two-parent household and then called it quits. The love they thought they’d had for each other had faded. But they still loved Valentine’s Day. Val had been fed a steady and sickening diet of hearts and flowers and candy and frills. She hated Valentine’s Day. Most of the time she let people assume her name was Valerie just so she wouldn’t have to answer the inevitable questions.

  Val popped a fine marker pen out of the holder next to the calendar. She drew a circle around the heart on February 14 and then drew a slash through the circle. Growing up, her parents always dressed her in frilly lace and pink outfits for her birthday parties. Val didn’t own a single pink piece of clothing and was darn proud of the fact. She was a realist, not a romantic.

  “Maybe I can go to bed on the thirteenth and wake up on the fifteenth.”

  If left to her own devices, turning thirty wouldn’t be so bad. If her parents and best friends could temper their excitement about the milestone, it would be okay. Being single wasn’t so bad, either. It was far better than attaching herself to someone like Conroy Franklin just for the sake of being considered part of a couple.

  Val closed the pantry door and turned off the kitchen light.

  * * *

  The next day Val met her girlfriends for lunch at Patrick Henry Mall.

  “That grin of yours doesn’t bode well for me,” Val told Shelley as the two women hugged.

  “I’m just glad I’m not going to be the only one who has faced down the big three-oh,” Shelley said.

  “Why don’t you two old ladies come on. They’re calling our name,” Kalinda said.

  “Your day is coming,” Shelley answered. “August will be here before you know it and you, too, will have kissed twentysomething goodbye forever.”

  Laughing, the three women followed the hostess to their table in the restaurant.

  “I’m ordering dessert first,” Kalinda said. “I never have room for it at the end.”

  Shelley rolled her eyes and Val laughed. After placing their orders, Shelley got down to business.

  “Okay, spill it, Miss Thing,” she said. Holding her nose up in the air and talking in a nasal tone, she did a fairly decent imitation of Conroy. “Was the date with Mr. Maserati all that?”

  “It was all that and more,” Val said. “After a night out with Conroy T. Franklin the Fourth, I decided that being single has its merits. The only thing together about that brother is his car.”

  Val leaned forward and, mimicking Conroy, said, “And he has a matching one in his garage for his Nubian queen.”

  Val and Shelley burst into giggles. Kalinda frowned.

  The women leaned back as the waiter placed their drink orders on the table.

  “What’s wrong with a man who wants to treat his woman like a queen?” Kalinda asked.

  “Nothing,” Shelley said. “I’m looking for one who has that in mind.”

  “Some men can pull off that type of line. Coming from Conroy, being a Nubian queen sounded like a contagious disease.”

  “Okay, okay. Well, can we assume that you won’t be seeing this brother anymore?” Shelley asked.

  “You have that right,” Val said, taking a sip from her glass of iced tea.

  “Well, we’re glad to hear that. Right, Kalinda?”

  Kalinda nodded and grinned at Val.

  “There’s that conspiratorial grin again. What are you two up to?”

  “For your birthday we’re giving you a match made in heaven.”

  Val groaned. “Oh, God. Not another blind date. The last time I went out with someone you two hooked me up with, I had to hire an interpreter to figure out what the man was talking about. He had enough gold on his fingers and teeth to finance a small country. And a six-hour master jam rap concert at the Coliseum is not my idea of an ideal first date.”

  “Come on, Val,” Kalinda pleaded. “I thought you’d forgiven us that one small error in judgment.”

  “Yeah, Val,” Shelley added. “Besides, you got even by recommending I go out with that car dealer. Do you know that man is still calling me, leaving messages saying he can put me in a late model today.”

  “That’s what you get,” Val said.

  Th
e women paused long enough for the waiter to place broccoli soup in front of Val and Shelley and a huge cookie, ice cream, and hot fudge concoction in front of Kalinda.

  “That looks good,” Shelley observed. “Maybe I’ll have one of those too.”

  The waiter grinned. “And you, ma’am?”

  Val eyed the treat. “I’ll think about it.”

  Shelley picked up her spoon and swiped a bit of Kalinda’s dessert.

  “Hey, wait for your own!”

  Shelley popped the spoonful of ice cream and whipped cream in her mouth. “Mmm.”

  Val started on her soup. “There’s a new exhibit at the Peninsula Fine Arts Center. Want to go there after lunch?”

  “Stop trying to change the subject, birthday girl. We have an appointment after lunch.”

  “Look, I’m really not up to any big splashes for my birthday, okay? I’d just like it to come and go without a lot of fanfare.”

  “I don’t know why you always have such a negative attitude about your birthday. I celebrate for a week,” Kalinda said. “You’re supposed to have fun for your birthday.”

  “Your birthday is in August. Not on Valentine’s Day,” Val pointed out. “You get to celebrate just your birthday. I have to have all that mushy Valentine’s Day stuff attached to mine.”

  “Having a birthday on Valentine’s Day is very romantic.”

  Val’s snort of derision answered Kalinda’s comment.

  “We digress, ladies,” Shelley said. “And, Val, rest easy. This isn’t a big splash. This time we’re gonna do it right. You’re going to get a match made in heaven, and so are we. It’s past time we stop wasting our time on these losers and the ones who are on ego trips.”

  “That’s right,” Kalinda said. “So we all have an appointment. And yours is our birthday present to you.”

  “An appointment with who?”

  “Actually it’s an appointment with what,” Shelley said. “Have you ever heard of the dating service called A Match Made in Heaven?”

  “Dating service! You two have really flipped. Sisters, we are not that desperate.”

  “It’s not about being desperate,” Shelley said. “It’s about weeding out all the weirdos. This company does that. They hook you up with people who have things in common with you, people who are likely to be a match made in heaven rather than a disaster made in you know where. How many more Conroy T. Franklins do you want to go out with?”

  The conversation ceased for a few minutes while the waiter brought their entrees and the women got serious about lunch.

  “None,” Val said, picking up the conversation. “That’s exactly why I decided last night that I’d rather just be by myself.”

  Shelley rolled her eyes. “Mmm-hmm. That’s because you had a bad date last night. I’m telling you, this company is our answer.”

  “It’s gonna be fun,” Kalinda promised.

  Val shook her head. “I’d really prefer a potted plant, girls. Maybe a nice hibiscus.”

  * * *

  But at three o’clock Val, Kalinda and Shelley sat in the receiving room at A Match Made in Heaven. Val wasn’t sure how she’d let her friends talk her into this. While Shelley and Kalinda filled out the extensive questionnaire from the dating service, Val looked around the office.

  She had to admit, the place was tastefully decorated in mauve and pale green. The chairs were deep, wide and comfortable, the type that made you want to sit back and visit for a while. Muted track lighting added a touch of ambience even though outside it was a busy Saturday afternoon. Towering potted ficus trees and flowering plants scattered about provided a soothing sense of place and comfort. Gentle instrumental jazz piped in on hidden speakers rounded out the overall impression of top-notch quality.

  Spoiling it all were the red hearts outlined in lace doily material tacked to the walls, the cupids with arrows drawn hanging from invisible pieces of string from the ceiling, and the eight-foot-long banner over the reception desk proclaiming in humongous letters Happy Valentine’s Day.

  The mental points Val gave A Match Made in Heaven for its tasteful decor turned to negative numbers with the overdose on the sappy Valentine’s theme.

  Kalinda had already remarked that she thought the decorations delightful. They had each been handed a brochure with Valentine’s Day history and lore on it. Val had read the first one on the tradition of the Valentine’s Day card and rolled her eyes. At home in a box somewhere she had a dozen or so books about the hearts-and-flowers day, from little cutesy minibooks to coffee-table-size tomes, all given to her over the years by well-meaning friends and acquaintances who thought it was unique and neat that her birthday was on Valentine’s Day.

  Now all she could do was wonder about the people who ran this operation. What kind of person made a living doing this? she wondered as she took in the people gathered in the room. Business was brisk. Men and women hunched over clear acrylic clipboards jotting down the intimate details of their social lives.

  “Excuse me, sweetie. Could you hand me one of those pencils, please? I just broke the point off this one.”

  Val turned and smiled at the lady sitting in the chair next to her. She was seventy if she was a day, but the twinkle in the woman’s eye and the sparkle of her smile let Val know this was no retiring golden-ager.

  Val uncrossed her legs and reached for one of the finely sharpened pencils in the acrylic holder on the end table next to her. She plucked one from the bunch, then shook her head. “It figures,” she mumbled, taking a look at the red pencil decorated with white stenciled hearts.

  “Here you are, ma’am,” Val said, handing the woman the pencil.

  “Are you a first-timer?” the woman asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “This your first time at A Match Made in Heaven?”

  Val nodded.

  The woman tucked her clipboard in her lap and turned to Val. “Oh, sweetie, you are going to have so much fun. You’re a beauty, so you’ll have no problem finding a match. My name’s Ruth,” she said, sticking her hand out in greeting. The fringe on her Ultrasuede jacket bounced along with Ruth.

  Smiling, Val shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Val. And, yes, it’s my first time here,” she said. And my last, she added to herself.

  “Well, let me just tell you, Netanya and Eric, the people who run this place, they do wonderful work. They introduced me to my dear Alfred,” Ruth said.

  Val didn’t miss Ruth’s fond look and misty eyes at the mention of Alfred. Since it would be rude to ask what happened to Alfred, Val waited for an explanation.

  “He died two years ago,” Ruth said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry...” Val began.

  Ruth laughed. “Don’t be sorry, sweetie. You didn’t even know the man. Alfred was a saint. But after Alfred I met Wade. We dated for four months, and do you know what the man had the nerve to do?”

  “What?”

  “Left me for an older woman.”

  Val couldn’t contain her look of surprise. Ruth laughed.

  “That look of shock on your face is exactly how I felt when he told me he was dumping me. I’ll be seventy-five on my next birthday.” She leaned forward and whispered, “And since I have no intention of spending that birthday alone, if you know what I mean, I’m here for another match. If I’m lucky, I’ll meet hubby number seven here.”

  Val’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve been married six times?”

  “Oh, sure, sweetie. I like being married. Met three of my husbands here.”

  A cloud of pink-and-white descended over Val and Ruth. “Hello,” the woman greeted Val and Ruth.

  “Mrs. Randall, so nice to see you again. Won’t you come this way,” the woman in the pink-and-white ruffles said.

  Ruth clapped her hands in delight. “Wish me luck, Val,” she said as she gathered her purse and questionnaire. “And don’t you worry. There’s a match made in heaven just waiting for you.”

  I don’t think I’ll meet him at a dating service,
Val said to herself. She watched Ruth follow the pretty, petite woman into an office, then settled in her chair to look over the rest of the people in the reception area.

  A man wearing plaid pants, white socks and an ice-blue leisure suit jacket scratched his head and consulted his watch before scribbling an answer on his form. He tapped his pen on the acrylic, then turned the writing instrument upside down and peered at the tip. Val watched him trade the pen for one in the plastic pen holder inside his suit pocket.

  “If this isn’t straight out of central casting, I don’t know what is,” Val mumbled.

  “You aren’t writing, Val,” Shelley said from where she sat next to Kalinda.

  “I know you guys mean well and you want to have some fun. But this just isn’t my cup of tea,” Val explained.

  “How would you know?” Kalinda pointed out. “You haven’t even taken the first step.” Kalinda held up her clipboard and questionnaire. “You better get busy. This is pretty detailed.”

  “Linda, Shell, you aren’t listening to me.”

  “We’re listening, Val,” Kalinda said. “Every year about this time you get real weird. Well, this year we’re here to make sure you enjoy your birthday.”

  “I do not get weird,” Val said in her own defense.

  The main door opened and a very tall, very attractive man walked into the reception area.

  Val looked him over. Shelley looked him over. Kalinda looked him over. The man went to the desk to register, then took a clipboard and found a seat.

  Val glanced at her friends. “Well, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

  Chapter 2

  Eric Fitzgerald kicked his feet up on the credenza behind his desk and looked out the window and over the courtyard. He smiled. The cupid fountain in the courtyard had been his idea. It was a cold but clear winter day, so no water fell from the fountain and no people gathered on the stone benches strategically placed around the courtyard. But Eric liked what he saw out his window today.

  At thirty-five years old, Eric had everything he wanted: good friends, a thriving company and all the creature comforts a man could desire. He already claimed as his own the house, the cars, even the boat, although he rarely had time to take it out on the water.