Chapter Twenty-Four
“S o your “this is not a date” guy is coming over for lunch tomorrow?” Kristy asked, the confusion ringing through the line.
Vickie was on her way home from work Thursday night and it was so nice out, she’d decided to walk the short distance to her apartment and catch up with her friend. “Yes. It looks like we’re going to be friends. And the project he needs my help on will be interesting.”
Kristy was quiet for a minute. “Hmm. Just be careful, okay? I know you kind of like this man and it seems like he’s made his feelings clear.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to talk to Dawn soon and see what she thinks of a set up with one of Jason’s buddies.”
“Good,” Kristy said. “I don’t want you to wait around for something that isn’t going to happen.”
Vickie fought to hide her irritation. She wasn’t stupid. But she also wasn’t in the mood for an argument. “So, how are the wedding plans coming? I can’t believe you’ll be a married woman next month!”
“Pretty good.” Kristy sighed.
“Oh no. What’s the problem?” Vickie wondered if Kristy’s family dynamics had anything to do with her dejected tone. Kristy and her sister didn’t get along very well, and her dad had moved out of state, remarried and rarely spoke to her. “Is your dad not coming?”
“Oh no, he’s coming. He didn’t even argue when I told him I wanted to walk down the aisle alone. I think his wife helped him to understand that it made me feel like a piece of property.” She laughed. “I know I’m speaking to Miss Traditional, so I’m sure you’ll think it’s weird too.”
Vickie couldn’t help but grin. “Nope. My motto for weddings is ‘your day, your way’. I just want you to be happy.” She paused. “So are you?”
Kristy cleared her throat. “You know that I always dreamed of getting married at Shiloh. But after my almost-wedding to Mark on park grounds, I don’t think it would be appropriate.” She sighed. “It makes me sad. I mean, with Ace, the park played a huge role in our early relationship. It was where we met, fell in love, and even where we shared our first kiss. And you know he proposed near my favorite monument.”
“I know. Do you really think he’d be opposed to the idea of holding the wedding there?”
“I don’t want him to be reminded of my previous engagement. Any more than he probably already is.”
“Does he ever mention it?” From what Vickie knew of Ace, he wasn’t the kind of guy who had an irrational jealous streak. It was far more likely that he chalked Kristy’s broken engagement up as a blessing rather than something to be upset about.
“Nope. He never mentions it. But still, I think it’s just more appropriate to hold the wedding elsewhere.”
“Worrying about what’s appropriate or not is usually more my arena.”
Kristy let out a tiny laugh. “I know.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid people would talk. A lot of the same people who were invited to mine and Mark’s wedding will be invited to this one too, and I don’t want them to think ‘hey, haven’t we done this before’ or whatever.”
“I really think you should talk to Ace about it.” Vickie walked up the stairs of her apartment building. She reached her door and held the phone with the crook of her neck as she fumbled with her keys.
“I know. You’re probably right. Maybe I will.” Kristy’s voice was unconvincing.
“Okay, I’m inside. Thanks for talking me home.” Vickie threw her bag on the couch and sank down beside it. “Whew. I’m exhausted.”
“Well then it’s lucky that you have a three-day weekend in front of you.”
As they said their goodbyes and Vickie tossed the phone onto the coffee table, she thought about her long weekend. Maybe Kristy had been right to caution her about this whole Abraham Lincoln thing. Vickie couldn’t seem to think of anything but Thatcher.
∞∞∞
Friday morning brought a fresh round of nerves for Vickie. Even though her relationship with Thatcher was purely a working one, she still wanted her home to look nice and inviting. There was nothing she enjoyed more than the role of hostess. Despite the differences she and her mother had, a love of entertaining was one thing they shared.
She’d decided a simple meal would be best for lunch, something that didn’t require heating up the oven. Her gram’s chicken salad recipe would be perfect. After a leisurely cup of coffee, she busied herself by chopping onions, celery and pecans and pouring them into a large red bowl. She mixed in a large can of chicken, some mayo and finally added a cup of dried cranberries. Vickie covered the bowl with Saran Wrap and set it in the refrigerator to chill. There were croissants from a nearby bakery to go along with the chicken salad, and the fresh cantaloupe wedges she’d gotten from the farmer’s market would make a yummy dessert.
She dusted the living room, taking special care to make sure all the pictures and framed artwork were dust-free. A quick pass with the vacuum and the room was spotless. She inspected the couch for any wayward strands of cat hair, and was pleased to see that the roller she used on it each night was doing the trick.
Vickie knew that some of her friends thought she was a little too much of a neat freak. But it made her feel so calm when her house was clean. She couldn’t understand how anyone could relax around clutter. Kristy’s house was always cluttered and Vickie never understood how her friend could concentrate when there were out-of-place items around. They joked that they had taught each other the true meaning of patience when they shared a dorm room. It was almost as if there were a line down the center of the tiny space with one side neat and the other messy.
After showering and doing her hair and makeup, she pulled a yellow shirtdress from her closet. It was one of her favorites and since it was sleeveless she knew it was nearly time for it to be relegated to her off-season closet. One perk of living alone was that all the closets were hers. And given her extensive wardrobe, she needed them.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. He was nothing if not prompt. Vickie peeked through the peephole and saw Thatcher standing there holding a backpack and a briefcase. She opened the door.
“Come in,” she said, standing to the side so he could come through the doorway. “You can set your things on the coffee table if you want to.”
“Thanks,” he said, putting the bags down. “I brought several books and have a list of more once we’re through with these.” He stood near the couch and looked at her. His crisp brown trousers and white button down dress shirt were topped off by a tweed jacket.
“You can hang your jacket up if you’d like.” Vickie pointed out a series of hooks behind the door where a set of keys and a raincoat hung. “There should be plenty of room.”
“Thanks.” Thatcher shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up.
“Have a seat if you want and I’ll get the lunch stuff ready.” She motioned toward the plush, navy couch. “The remote is on the coffee table if you want to turn on the TV.”
He slowly sat down on the couch and began rolling up his shirt sleeves, revealing tanned forearms. “That’s okay.” He pulled a thick book from his bag. “I’ll go ahead and get started.” He fished around in the bag and came up with a steno notebook and pencil.
“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.” She paused at the dining room and threw a quick glance over her shoulder. He was already hard at work, probably wishing he were at the library.