Chapter 6 #2
Michaela busied herself on her tablet, going through email, until the ending credits rolled, and Flo said, “Okay, now let’s watch Love Actually .” She sounded so excited.
But there was a method to her madness, as the old saying went.
Michaela wouldn’t stand for it. “You know, I have some work to do. You go ahead and watch it without me.”
She kissed Flo on the cheek, and her mother hugged her, whispering, “Everything will be okay, sweetheart. I know it will.”
Her mom realized she was still thinking about Troy. Flo was an optimist, and when times were tough or Michaela felt low, her mother always hugged her and told her everything would be okay. And it always had been.
Until now.
With one more hug and a smile that wasn’t genuine, Michaela fled the living room.
Once in her pajamas, she climbed beneath the covers and opened her tablet to do a search on Troy. Not only did he give inspirational talks every chance he got, but he also supported several charities involving child athletes and sponsored sports programs for kids.
Somehow that made everything worse. He could be a good guy.
And she’d set him up with the most amazing woman alive.
They were on that date right now. Not only did Alice run a nonprofit empowering women and girls in education, she’d been Miss America ten years earlier.
Beautiful, accomplished, smart, philanthropic. They would have so much in common.
Alice Fletcher was exceptional.
The perfect match for Troy Harrington.
Flo queued up Love Actually . What she really wanted to do was put on some music and dance. Something like “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. She couldn’t be happier. Michaela had finally become interested in a wonderful man.
Sadly, she had to admit her daughter had so far picked a line of men who were not up to snuff.
They all started out well. But then one would lose a job through no fault of his own, only for Michaela to learn he’d been insubordinate.
Or he had a few money problems that turned out to be a gambling addiction.
But Troy Harrington was completely different.
From everything Flo had seen at the gallery, he was a good man.
Smart, funny, and attentive. Being attentive was very important.
When Susan had told her what the Harringtons had gone through after their parents died, how they’d supported one another, how they’d melded so well with the Mavericks, Flo knew Troy was the perfect match for Michaela.
You didn’t become an Olympic champion if you didn’t have some get-up-and-go.
That took tenacity, willpower, dedication, and hard work.
As much as Michaela wanted to deny it, Flo knew she was interested. So, what could a mother do to help her daughter see the possibilities?
Her phone rang just as the movie credits began, and Flo grabbed it, hoping Michaela wouldn’t hear.
“Hello?” She didn’t even have a chance to look at the caller ID.
“Hello, Flo.”
Oh. Oh my. That delicious voice. “Hello, Walter.”
“Am I calling too late?”
“Not at all. I was going to start a movie.”
“I wanted to say how nice our coffee date was.”
Flo blushed. Not that Walter would see. Or her daughter. “I had a lovely time too.” Even now, the memory of it made her warm all over.
“I’d like to ask you for dinner tomorrow night, if you’re free.”
Her silly heart pitter-pattered. Tomorrow night would be perfect, since Michaela would be out for the evening.
Flo wasn’t exactly hiding anything from her.
She just hadn’t mentioned yesterday’s coffee date with Walter Braedon.
She knew how Michaela felt about rich men.
She’d had another earful of it tonight. A relationship with all that would be destined to fail.
She had no idea how to change her daughter’s mind.
Whatever Flo was doing with Walter would fall into that category.
She and Michaela told each other everything.
Her daughter was her best friend, and Flo knew Michaela would worry that her mother’s heart could be broken.
But it was just coffee. And now it was just dinner.
And Walter was truly a lovely man. She hated to worry Michaela over a couple of dates.
So maybe it wasn’t a terrible thing to keep one tiny secret.
“I’d love to have dinner with you, Walter. Why don’t I meet you somewhere?”
“I can pick you up.”
“No, no. I’ll meet you.”
Michaela wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about if she didn’t know.
The setting at the Grand Epoque was romantic, the waitstaff attentive, and the meal so delicious that Troy’s eyeballs almost rolled back in his head.
White damask tablecloths shone in the candlelight, the silver cutlery sparkled, the crystal goblets glittered, and the surrounding diners spoke in muted voices.
The woman across from him was gorgeous, smart, and accomplished, as advertised.
Only one thing was missing. She wasn’t Michaela Killian.
Alice Fletcher put her hand to her lovely bosom.
“I saw Wicked on Broadway. It was incredible. Have you seen it?” She pushed a beautiful blond curl behind her ear.
Her plump lips were definitely kissable.
If he were another man. And if she were Michaela.
Her lovely blue eyes were perfectly made up, with long lashes and a thin liner highlighting them.
The black evening dress she wore revealed her toned figure and a tasteful hint of cleavage.
But the dress Michaela had worn at the gallery had made his body burn. Unfortunately, Alice Fletcher put him on a mere simmer.
It wasn’t her fault. It was him. He fully admitted that. The problem, besides her not being Michaela, was that they had nothing in common.
“I’m afraid I don’t get to many shows,” he said with a pleasant smile.
“I love watching the dancing. I take dance classes, but I’m nothing like that.” She put her hands together and gave him a dreamy look. “I do love to dance.”
He politely said, “I’m sure you’re magnificent.”
She laughed. She had a very nice laugh. It wasn’t too loud or squeaky; it was actually quite musical.
“Thank you for saying that. But dancing isn’t one of my strengths, as much as I love it.” Then she regarded him with interest. “You’re an Olympic gold medalist. I bet with the coordination it takes to be a great diver, you’re also a great dancer.”
Troy had to laugh. “I have two left feet, which never hampered my diving, but on the dance floor?” He shrugged as if that were his answer.
Truthfully, he could hold his own out there, but only because there were functions at which it was almost a requirement to dance and to do it well to avoid embarrassment.
Oh, but if he had Michaela in his arms…
Then he added, “I’m much better at things like biking, skiing, outdoor activities.”
That was the crux of it. Alice Fletcher loved dancing, Broadway shows, the symphony, and putting together amazing galas for her fundraising. Whereas he liked dirt bikes, trail running, swimming until his limbs ached, and basically anything he could do outdoors. They were worlds apart.
His lack of interest wasn’t only because she wasn’t Michaela.
She was nice and a good conversationalist—better than he was, because she asked most of the questions. But they were too different.
Then, over dessert, she knocked him over with a featherlight question. “So why don’t you take Michaela out on a date?”
His heart started to thump harder, his skin seemed to thrum, and his body felt like it was on fire. “Why on earth would you say that?”
She gave him a lovely smile. “Because she’s perfect for you. She loves all that outdoorsy stuff.” She waved a hand as if he should already know that, but the only thing he wanted to know was what outdoorsy stuff Michaela loved.
Alice’s smile drooped. “Except that she won’t date billionaires.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”
He wanted to dive on her, and not in a sexual way. “Why not?”
A little moue touched her lips. “I’m not sure.”
He went for a nonchalant sip of his coffee, but ended up taking a gulp that burned his throat.
Trying to sound as if he didn’t care one whit, he said, “Interesting. I’ll have to ask her.
I’m sure there’s a story there.” Had a billionaire screwed her over?
Or maybe because she matched for billionaires, she made it a rule not to date one, since they were all potential clients?
But he wouldn’t get any more out of Alice Fletcher. With a smile in his voice, he said, “I presume that if you’re saying I should date Michaela, that means you’re not interested in seeing me again.”
She laughed, not seeming a bit embarrassed.
“You’re a very nice man, Troy. But I love going to the city for a night on the town, while you love hiking and being outdoors.
I bet you’d be bored silly watching a Broadway show.
” She shuddered. “I don’t even own a pair of hiking boots.
I hate bugs or sand in my shoes. And don’t get me started on poison oak.
I do my workouts in the gym. So, you see, we aren’t a good match at all. ”
He reached over to take her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You’re right. Thank you for your honesty. You’re a delightful lady, and I’m sure that Michaela will find the perfect match for you.”
She squeezed back. “I’m sure she will. And I know she’ll find the perfect match for you too.” She winked. What did that mean? Then she sighed. “I hate to disappoint Michaela by telling her it didn’t work out. By now, she must think I’m very hard to please.”
“No worries,” he said. “I’ll tell her.” A good excuse to call. And he hadn’t even forfeited the bet.
Was that a twinkle in Alice’s eye? “It would be so much better if you called her.”
They parted as friends after an amazing meal and good conversation.
But instead of calling Michaela, he decided to wait.
It might be good to let her sweat a little.