Chapter 5 Blind Date - Wrong Date
"Spin," Ursula said twirling her finger as she sat on Eloise's bed with a large Casper who made her queen bed look tiny.
"I don't know, the skirt is giving me Utah feelings," she said as she looked at herself in the floor-length antique mirror.
"Ah yeah, with the hair in a low bun, I see your point. Mmm," she looked around and then picked up the black mid-length pleated skirt that was faux leather. "I say this with red heels and that red shirt," she said pointing to the red short-sleeved sweater hanging on the dresser.
"Oh, definitely more my speed," Eloise replied nodding. "With a black bow around a high ponytail?" she asked as she zipped up the skirt.
Ursula tapped the tip of her chin with her index finger as she tilted her head. "Little edgy with a dash of feminine. Your style."
She was out the door fifteen minutes later and hoping that she wasn't sweating too much, because sweating these days didn't require any form of physical activity. She could sweat while reading, and not because it was a thrilling or saucy scene.
The lemon peel smell of the sun brushed her cheeks gently and she closed her eyes for a moment to draw in a deep breath.
Her senses she felt were becoming sharper, more angled and pointed lately.
Maybe it was moving her entire life or the change happening in her body as she was approaching thirty-nine years of age.
Thirty-nine. She had one more year in her thirties and something inside of her felt like a swooping bird and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad.
The Black Cat Coffee was a sweet little shop with a raw live wood counter where two baristas currently were, one of which was Bess who waved in that carefully unexcited way of a sixteen-year-old. Eloise had come here often and enjoyed the creamy chai tea.
"Hey Eloise, how's it going?"
"Oh good. How are you today? Enjoying the spring?"
What a silly question to ask a teenager and as she thought that Bess's little nose scrunched and she said, "Uh yeah, sure. You want a chai again?"
"Good memory but no, I need straight caffeine for this. Do me an Americano, small with an extra shot."
"Nice," Bess said nodding with approval.
"Are you good with the lighter roast? Shellee is out unexpectedly because her daughter in Georgia is having a surgery or something, and she didn't get the order in time.
I actually don't really know what we're going to do," she said, her voice trailing off, becoming smaller.
"Yikes. Let me know if you need anything. Happy to hop in."
"Ohmygod you owned like a coffee place, right?" Bess's bright hope, with her dyed black hair in braids and dark eyeliner, endeared her so suddenly to Eloise that she nodded and told her to call her if she needed help figuring out the order.
As she looked around the cozy shop she knew that she would in fact be more than happy to hop in. Bess had her Americano with an extra shot ready for her and she grabbed the too-hot cup and looked where the sleeve holder was. Empty. They could probably use help sooner rather than later.
But as she was thinking that she saw someone sitting in the loft up the stairs. She made her way up to peek and when she saw a red rose lying where an empty chair sat across from a man she felt a thump in her chest.
Okay, this was it. Her first date in a while.
Her first date since that night over a year ago.
She could do this. She was good at dating, actually.
She felt comfortable around new people and the excitement of getting to know someone's story, she'd always found it exciting like diving into a new book.
She took the last few steps up into the low-ceilinged loft and a familiar smell hit her.
It was strong and stirring and she couldn't quite place it.
She'd always had a particular gift for smell, but lately, in the last couple of months, it had gotten stronger, more acute.
A week ago when she walked into the kitchen where Ursula was cutting snow white irises and pink gladiolus stems she smelled the sweet vanilla of her best friend but the sea salt was sharp and tangy, pinching her nose.
That combined with Ursula tossing each flower stem into the antique vase with pomp and circumstance that aired on the side of anger, she knew something was wrong.
"Hey there, pretty sea witch. Why don't you put down the poor flowers and step away from the cut crystal that I am pretty sure is worth more than your car."
Ursula had turned to her and her eyes were puffy, not the clear green they usually were but a muted grey-green and she immediately went to her and wrapped her in her arms. That sharp sea salt smell punched and she squeezed a little tighter.
"Jenson was being an ass," she mumbled.
She pulled back and brushed her wild black hair out of her face. "What did he do? Or say?"
She shook her head and her lip quivered and Eloise just about picked up the expensive crystal vase to find the asshole and bash it over his head.
"He's taking Bess on spring break to Florida,"
"That monster," Eloise said and Ursula smiled tremulously.
"And I told him he probably needed to clear it with the judge because he has temporary custody of Bess and there are strict rules.
Her mom is in rehab, and anyway, he got frustrated and said her mom didn't deserve to dictate the experiences that Bess gets to have or not have anymore.
Which, I mean, sure, but I don't want him to lose custody of Bess, especially if something goes wrong with her mom. "
Eloise had sat her on a chair and started making them both coffee as Ursula talked, worry and frustration, hurt and anger wrapped around every word coming out of her mouth.
By the time she set Ursula's favorite ghost mug in front of her she leaned onto the island and watched her friend take a sip of the coffee, then let out a sigh.
"Your coffee is the best."
She nodded. "True."
"Am I being overbearing?"
Eloise smiled softly at her friend, the lovely woman who hadn't been given the space to let her voice out in her last relationship.
"First of all, zero points for choosing Florida," Eloise said.
"But secondly, maybe he's lashing out and particularly grumpy because he is scared of losing Bess, has watched his sister bungle up raising a kid he has come to love as his own, and in a way he is papa-bearing hard.
Misplaced towards you, but I am going to guess it's not actually about or aimed at you. "
Ursula nodded slowly and took another sip of the coffee then smiled. "Bourbon?"
Eloise's cheeky smile was broad. "You keep my favorite bourbon handy for times like this. Call him."
Ursula had and they made up. In fact, Eloise didn't see her friend for forty-eight whole hours as they made up and there was something so deeply beautiful about seeing your best friend be loved well after having been loved not at all.
But that had been the morning she'd wondered about her sense of smell, how astute her nose had become.
And now, there was a softness to what she was sensing and again, it was familiar but her nerves were too jumpy for her to place it.
She stepped up to the table and when the man looked up she took one step back.
Jen had said he was cute, but this man? He was not cute.
Cute was the camp down the dusty road from what this man was, which was extremely handsome.
He had gold hair that was short on the sides and longer on top with a thick and perfect wave that women would spend hundreds of dollars for at a salon.
His blue eyes were sharp and clear and his nose, though it could be described as a little large, fit his face perfectly adding to his chiseled looks and slight golden scruff along his jaw.
"Hi," she said pulling out the chair and sitting. "Jen said you were cute, but you should know she undersold you, so you should definitely be miffed with her."
He tilted his head with a slight smirk that looked caught off-guard. "I will have to do that," he said, his voice warm and gentle and if she was not mistaken, a little taken aback.
"So, obviously I'm Eloise."
He nodded slowly, his eyes moving over her face. "Obviously."
He must be the quiet strong sort, she mused.
She wrapped her hands around her pink to-go cup of coffee and looked at her red-painted nails that Ursula had painted while they ate a bag of marshmallows on the couch the night before.
"So, I haven't done this in a while, to be honest."
"What, had coffee with a complete stranger?" he asked with that smirk.
"Definitely that," she laughed. "I mean, dated. How about you?"
A thoughtful look crossed his face as he leaned back. He was wearing a caramel-colored thick flannel that looked both soft and sturdy. "Can't say I'm much of a dater, no."
"No? Why not? You're attractive, in a good job it seems and Jen likes you which is honestly like getting an award as a man."
"Jen Wilson? Cora Acosta's best friend?"
"Yeah," she said tentatively thinking it was an odd question since she was the one who set them up on this blind date.
What other Jen would even be relevant here?
"Not that she doesn't like men. I mean," she waved a hand through the air, "she doesn't like them that way, but she's not against men. You know what I mean."
His smirk grew. "Sure," he said.
"Anyways," she said as a filler, a transition, hoping this conversation wouldn't be carried by her. She could get along with most people, but people who didn't know how to carry a conversation were not her kind of people. "You're not very loquacious," she observed tilting her head.
He laughed and leaned forward resting his arms on the walnut table between them. "And you are honest and have an excellent vocabulary. Literature degree? Liberal Arts? Or a big reader," he guessed.
"Literature with a focus in creative writing, actually. Well done. And you? Marketing or business?"
He shook his head, his full lips pressing into a thoughtful line. "Nope."