Chapter 17 Cynthia
Cynthia
“So, what do you think?” Pauline asked, leaning towards Cynthia and tilting her head at the group of young men jostling and calling out to one another as they raced to the end of the dock and launched themselves into the air. “Husband material, every one of them—wouldn’t you say?”
Cynthia raised a hand to shield her eyes and considered the question.
There were several good-looking men in the group, but she couldn’t say that any one in particular had grabbed her attention, at least not yet.
Truth be told, she barely knew them well enough to keep their names straight, let alone imagine heading to the altar with any of them.
Besides, from the way they were behaving, they didn’t seem like the marrying kind.
Not that she would say that to Pauline. Her friend’s eyes were glued to the sets of long, tanned limbs scissoring through the water.
Pauline elbowed her gently as if to prompt an answer.
“I couldn’t say. I’ve only just met them,” Cynthia said.
She wriggled her toes deep into the coarse sand, noticing the way the tiny flecks of silica gleamed in the sun.
She hoped she hadn’t sounded prudish. Pauline tended to tease her about sounding like a schoolmarm, especially when it came to men.
The reality was that Cynthia found it difficult to flirt like Pauline or play dumb like their mutual friend Sharon.
She simply hadn’t the knack or the desire.
Despite all the advice spouted in popular magazines for young women, she just couldn’t seem to behave in ways guaranteed to attract the admiration of eligible men.
Majoring in economics hadn’t helped any either.
Although men filled most of the other seats in almost all her classes, none of them exhibited a particular interest in her, at least not as a possible romantic partner, especially not after she so often received the highest marks on tests and assignments.
She could still see the crumpled look on her mother’s face when she explained the wide chasm between home economics and the other sort.
Perhaps if she were to have taken her mother’s advice to heart and switched her major, she would already have a steady young man rather than being told she was in the market for one.
“So, what do you think about Andrew? He is a good dancer, and his family is more than well off.” Pauline leaned back against her elbows, showing off her bathing suit to good effect.
“Which one is he?” Cynthia asked.
“That one there.” Pauline pointed at a russet-haired young man who had pulled ahead of the others and landed gracefully on the dock.
It was easy to imagine him making a good impression on the dance floor, with his long limbs and slim build.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out something indistinguishable to the others, who were still jostling and ducking one another in the choppy water.
He wasn’t bad looking in the least, but he wasn’t the sort that ever caught her eye.
Still, she didn’t want to insult Pauline, nor did it seem wise to make a snap judgment.
After all, she had only just been introduced to him that afternoon.
“Maybe. I would have to get to know him better before I could form an opinion.”
“What more do you need to know? He is available and will be well set for life.”
Cynthia wasn’t at all sure what to say to that.
Pauline sounded a lot like Cynthia’s mother.
Her idea of Prince Charming involved four usable limbs and a robust bank balance.
Common interests, or even good character, didn’t seem to be a part of the marriage equation as far as she was concerned.
It certainly hadn’t seemed to be the most prominent aspect of her parents’ marriage.
She had privately hoped for more from a partnership of her own but worried that might prove too much to ask.
“Do you know what sorts of things he likes to do?”
“Besides horsing around with the other guys?” Pauline asked. Cynthia nodded. “He plays tennis and golf. And he’s crazy about fancy cars.”
None of those interests aligned with hers.
Cynthia loved to read and preferred long, rambling walks to organized sports.
As for cars, she knew how to drive but thought of vehicles mostly as a durable good that, fancy or not, inevitably depreciated.
At least they had a love of dancing in common.
Perhaps a successful marriage could be based on less.
Not that she was entirely sure what she thought constituted a successful marriage.
“I don’t really know much about cars. Or sports. You know I’m hopeless at small talk.”
“The only thing you need to do is smile sweetly and play hard to get. Any one of those boys won’t be able to resist that.”
“Isn’t that kind of underhanded? What if I end up liking one of them?” Cynthia asked. “Won’t he lose interest if I don’t let him know how I feel?”
“Trust me. The shortest route between two points is not always a straight line, especially when it comes to romance.”
Three of the young men, including Andrew, dived off the end of the dock once more, but one with dark hair and a confident stride emerged from the water and made his way to their blanket. He bent over and plucked up Pauline’s towel without asking and began rubbing himself dry with it.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Pauline said. Her tone was teasing, and Cynthia could tell that despite the words, her voice held no malice.
“Are you suggesting you aren’t thrilled to see me?” His eyes widened with mock surprise, and he tossed the damp towel at Pauline, who squealed and batted it away.
“Beast,” Pauline said. She turned to Cynthia and winked. “This horrid boy is Glenn. Don’t pay him any notice, though. He is far too full of himself to require any additional attention.”
Cynthia had told Pauline about meeting Glenn the day it had happened. She must be giving her a lesson in how to attract the interest of someone like him.
Glenn smiled down at her, and she felt her cheeks warm from more than just the sun.
His dark-blues eyes crinkled at the edges as he bent down and extended his hand.
She reached out and grasped it with one of her own.
Glenn wrapped his long fingers firmly around her palm and held it for just a moment longer than customary politeness dictated.
“Cynthia, isn’t it? Or are you Cindy to your friends?”
“Everyone calls me Cynthia.”
He bent closer, keeping his eyes trained on her face. “Yes, I suppose they do. Somehow you don’t seem much like a nickname sort of girl.”
Her stomach twisted. She had always wanted to have a group of friends who gave one another meaningful nicknames, but somehow she hadn’t made those sorts of friends. Her parents didn’t believe in informal forms of address, so she hadn’t been given a nickname by her family either.
Pauline turned towards Cynthia. “Have the two of you met already?” Pauline asked, her voice tinged with mock surprise.
“Didn’t she tell you? Cynthia and I met on the beach the other day.”
“You never said anything to me about it,” Pauline said, winking once more.
Cynthia played along. “There wasn’t anything to tell really,” she said.
“You cut me to the quick,” Glenn said, his eyes widened in mock offense.
Cynthia turned to her friend and proceeded to tell her the same thing she’d told her as soon as Pauline returned from her shopping trip. “He introduced himself when he saw me with Freddy and Patsy on the beach while you were away shopping with your mother.”
“I see. There was nothing to tell because we were chaperoned by two little cherubs,” he said. “Now, about this nickname—what do you think, Pauline?”
Cynthia blushed. Pauline adjusted her sunglasses and shrugged.
“I don’t think you should give a nickname to someone you hardly know,” Pauline said.
Glenn broke off his glance and turned his attention to Pauline. There was a current running between the two of them that Cynthia didn’t quite understand. Pauline had said she wasn’t interested in him in the least, but maybe Glenn hadn’t noticed.
“You are right, as always.” He lowered himself onto the blanket and stretched out on his side, propping his head on his hand.
“What do you say we get to know each other better?” Glenn stared into her eyes with an intensity that knocked the wind from her chest. She felt tongue-tied, until she noticed Pauline giving her a slight nod.
“I suppose that depends,” she said.
“On what?” he asked.
“On what Pauline thinks of you.” She stood and carefully brushed the sand from her calves. She lifted her hand to Pauline and then started to walk away.
Glenn called after her, “What does Pauline think of me?”
Cynthia turned around. “You should ask her yourself.” From the smile on Pauline’s face, she thought she was right to walk away.