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She didn’t know what to say. The men she dated were never in a hurry to talk to her. They didn’t call half an hour after they dropped her off—sometimes they never called again.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, settling on the pale green damask couch. She smoothed the protective arm cover. The piece of furniture was so expensive, a gift from her father, that she barely sat on it. She preferred the old leather recliner that she’d brought from home and kept in her office in the back. She’d had the recliner in her dorm room at college, then her very first apartment. She liked the smell of the old leather.
“I was just—” She looked down at the sheet of paper on the end table and felt a stab of guilt. “Just picking up a little before I went to bed,” she lied cheerfully.
“Well, I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed my evening with you.”
“Well, I did, too.”
“So, I was wondering.”
She held her breath. She didn’t care what the book said about not relying on chemistry. Right now, it felt too darned good.
“Think we could get together later this week?”
“Sure,” she said trying not to sound overly eager.
“I thought I could tell you what I was looking for in the way of property, and you could look into what’s available.”
If her stomach could have literally dropped, it would have been on the floor. He wanted to talk about property? “Um, sure, that would be great.”
“I’ve got a lot going this week, but how about Friday?”
“Friday is good.”
“I’ll call you later in the week.”
“Sounds good,” she said, trying to sound equally cheery.
“’Night, Ellie,” Zane said in that same sexy voice that made her feel warm all over.
“’Night, Zane.”
Elise barely hung up the cordless phone when it rang again. This time it had to be Liz.
“That you, Liz?”
“Expecting Leonardo or Brad so late?” Liz’s voice was laced with her usual blend of amusement and sarcasm.
Elise curled up on the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath her. “You’re never going to believe what an evening I’ve had,” she said not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry.
“That good?”
“Well, I think so. Zane just called and said he wanted to get together later in the week.”
“That’s wonderful!” Liz exclaimed.
“To talk about real estate.”
“Oh.” Liz’s voice fell.
“But I really like him,” Elise said softly. “And he’s already met several of the criteria.”
“So meet him. Talk to him about some property. Let him get to know you. Business luncheons will turn into romantic interludes before you know it. It happens all the time.”
Elise smiled. “Thanks, Liz. See you Monday.”
Chapter Two
Don’t be fooled by fairy tales; frogs do not turn into princes. Appearances can mean everything to the contemporary working woman. We are judged by what we drive and where we live.
“Hey, Pops! How are you this morning?” Zane leaned over and kissed the top of his grandfather’s bald head. “Look who I brought.”
Zane’s black Lab, Scootie, wagged his tail, sending his whole backside swinging and licked Tom Keaton’s wrinkled hands, folded neatly in his lap the way his nurse had left them.
The old man smiled vaguely and patted the dog’s head when Scootie rested his snout on Tom’s bony knee.
“I thought we’d go for a walk outside, Pops. How would that be?” Zane studied his grandfather’s face for some response, any response. There was none. “Great,” Zane said. “Here we go!” He unlocked the brake on his grandfather’s wheelchair and wheeled him out of the “Family Room” of the Alzheimer’s wing.
“Taking Pops for a walk, Katie,” Zane called cheerfully as he passed the nurse’s station.
“I’ll buzz you out,” the cute blonde answered. “Have a nice walk.”
“We always do.” With the dog trailing behind him, he pushed the wheelchair through the set of double doors that were locked to keep the patients inside. His grandfather wore a band on his wrist as an extra safety precaution. The wristband set off an alarm any time he passed through the doors of the ward. The band helped to alert the staff if he wandered away on those days when he could still walk on his own.
“I went to that benefit dinner for the hospital last night, Pops.” Zane pushed the wheelchair down the hallway, headed for the doors that exited into the garden area. “I gave Mr. Johann your check and told him how disappointed you were that you couldn’t be there yourself. And guess what else happened?” He hit a big silver pad on the wall and the doors swung open, allowing him to push the wheelchair through. Scootie burst through the door first, into the morning sunshine.
“I met a girl. You’d like her. She’s cute and she’s funny and she’s smart.”
The doors swung closed behind them.
“I really liked her,” he said thoughtfully, shaking his head. “She’s a real estate agent. A real go-getter according to Richard.”
Zane pushed his grandfather around a small circular herb garden, headed for the tomato patch. Tom Keaton had always grown some of the best tomatoes in Sussex County, and the hospital had been nice enough to give him a small flower bed to plant. Other patients would come out and pick them when they were ripe; Tom just liked to see the plants.
“You know how I feel about women like that, Pops. They just aren’t for me. They don’t care about anything but their job. No family ties. No purpose in life except work twelve hour days and make money. I’m looking for a woman who wants to be a part of my life the way grandma was a part of your life.”
Zane’s mother had been one of those women who put her career ahead of her family. She’d been so wrapped up in her advertising job that she’d never had time for him and his sister. She’d missed the only home run he ever hit playing Little League baseball, when he was ten. She’d never attended his band concerts. Never brought homemade cupcakes to school for his birthday like the other moms. His parents had finally divorced when he was twelve, and she now lived in New York City, working for a big shot ad company. He rarely saw her, and when he did, they were casual strangers.
“As soon as I found out what Ellie—that’s her name—what Ellie did for a living, I know I shouldn’t have asked her out, but I did.” He grabbed a stick and hurled it in the air. Scootie took off after it. “Well, sort of.”
He chuckled as he pushed the wheelchair up close to the small patch of tomato plants and plucked a weed that had sneaked up through the mulch. “I couldn’t help myself. She was just so nice and fun to be with.”
He looked down at his grandfather who stared at the plants. “And it wasn’t really a date I asked her out on anyway. I told her I was looking for land to buy. And that’s kind of true. I mean we’re always looking for good farmland, right?”
He paused. “I know. Even that’s a mistake. I’m just setting myself up for another fall. I can just see the whole thing with Judy happening all over again. One call and off she goes to Singapore for a job promotion. So much for the engagement ring. So much for good ol’ Zane.”
He crouched down beside the wheelchair and scooped up a little dirt. He pressed it into his grandfather’s hand and closed the old man’s fingers around it.
Somewhere in Tom’s clouded, pale blue eyes, Zane sensed some kind of recognition. Zane lifted his grandfather’s feeble hand close to his nose so that he could breathe in the scent of the warm, dark soil.
“The thing is, Pops, I really liked her. I was thinking about taking her out in the boat on Friday. Showing her your dad’s land. What do you think?”
Zane carefully loosened his grandfather’s hands and sprinkled the dirt onto the ground again. “I know, do what I think’s best. You’ll always support me.”
He sighed and sat back on the bench. Scootie dropped the stick at his feet and Zane threw it as far as he could. The dog bounded off and to Zane’s delight, his grandfather smiled.
“You like it when I bring Scootie, don’t you?” Zane leaned forward. “Here, let me get that.” He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his grandfather’s plaid shirt and gently wiped the old man’s mouth. He refolded it and tucked it back into the pocket, giving it a pat.
As if on cue, the black Lab came bounding back, stick in his mouth and he collapsed at the foot of the wheelchair.
“Hey, look who’s back, Pops!” Zane gave Scootie a scratch between the ears. “So how about a walk down the path, through the woods?” he asked, already on his feet, grabbing the wheelchair.
“Here we go.” He pushed his grandfather down the walk. The dog bounded past them, familiar with the path they took several days a week. “Think we can take him if we run?”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” Zane answered for Tom. And then he took off at a run, pushing the wheelchair.
Grandfather opened his arms and tipped back his head and grinned, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face.
To Zane, that smile was worth a million dollars.
Wednesday morning, Elise headed downtown in her car to drop off some paperwork for a client. She hadn’t heard from Zane yet, but she guessed he would call her tonight. She had a women’s business league meeting right after work, but she’d skip the dinner afterward, just to be sure she was home when he called. She was trying hard not to get her hopes up. He hadn’t said he wanted a date. He’d said he wanted to talk about real estate.
Elise signaled and turned left onto a divided road that went through the middle of town. As she passed an old beat-up pickup truck, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.
It couldn’t be.
She slowed down so that the dilapidated truck passed her in the right lane. The truck spat and sputtered as it chugged along, bits of straw blowing out of its bed. It didn’t even have a typical Delaware state license plate, but instead had a tag, that read Farm Vehicle in black block letters. The body of the truck was blue. Rusted blue. The original tailgate had been replaced sometime when she was a teenager with a red one. The tailgate’s rust matched the body’s quite nicely.
Elise clutched the steering wheel of her imported sedan as the driver came into view again. He had the radio blasting to some old rock station that played hits from the seventies and eighties. The song “Ballroom Blitz” blared and he sang along. His dusty ball cap was pulled down low over his brow, one muscular, tanned arm rested on the open window as he tapped to the tune.
The farmer looked like Zane.
It couldn’t be Zane, of course. Zane drove a BMW sedan. Even though she didn’t know what he did for a living, she could guess from the kind of man he was. She was certain he was working in an office somewhere right now. Wearing a gray business suit, ordering employees around. At the very least he was having lunch with a client, sipping a nice wine and ordering Caesar salad with the dressing on the side.
They say everyone has a twin, she told herself, trying not to hyperventilate as she let the truck pull away from her. She ignored the guy in the white car behind her who was tailgating in an effort to get her to speed up.
That farmer was obviously Zane’s twin. Wasn’t that a funny coincidence? Right here in their own town of Nassateague Bay.
Or maybe Zane had an identical twin brother and he just hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe the farmer was a twin brother, that was it. A black sheep of the family. Never made it to college. Worked on a potato farm. Planted and harvested soybeans for a living.
Elise forced herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. She put down the passenger side window so she could get some air.
The tailgater passed her. “It’s the pedal on the right,” he shouted as he whizzed by.
Elise slowly pressed the accelerator until she was once again doing the speed limit. The pickup turned right at the next intersection. Without thinking, she signaled and switched lanes quickly so that she could follow the imposter.
It wasn’t Zane. She knew the farmer wasn’t Zane. He couldn’t be Zane. There was no place to indicate “farmer” on The Husband Finder checklist. She had clearly stated in the career category that she was looking for a professional, a man who would understand her devotion to her profession. She tried not to panic as she followed the truck down a narrow side street.
Two blocks down, the truck made another right. She continued to follow at a safe distance.
The farmer wasn’t Zane, and she was going to prove it to herself.
The truck pulled into a gravel parking lot. She had never been on this side of town. A sign on the side of the tin-roofed cement block building read Smitty’s Seed & Feed. It was a feed store, for heaven’s sake. A store where farmers bought their…animal provisions and bird seed, she supposed.
She slowed down, watching as the old truck lurched to a halt and the door swung open. As she drove by, she saw the farmer lift his head, raise a hand and call good-naturedly to a man standing in an open door on the loading dock.
She knew that voice.
She knew that bad-boy blond hair sticking out from beneath the ball cap.
Elise drove by the store and kept going.
She was afraid she might cry.
A farmer? Zane farmed for a living? Now what? Career was a big heading on The Husband Finder checklist. It was even printed in bold. She’d already ignored the whole chemistry advice. Could she scratch out the career part, too? Would the list still work?
Elise pulled into a parking spot in front of her client’s business and picked up her cell phone to call Liz’s extension at work.
“Liz Jefferson.”
“Liz,” Elise said, feeling a little silly for even calling about this in the middle of the day. Liz was busy; personal lives were supposed to stay out of the office.
“Elise?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Elise said. “I just saw Zane in town.”
“And he canceled your date? Excuse me, your nondate?” she corrected. “Jerk.”
“No, no. I didn’t speak to him. I just saw him drive by.”
“And he had a woman with him and a baby in a car seat in the back. The man’s married. Jerk.”
“No, Liz, listen to me. I saw Zane and he…he was driving a pickup. An old pickup.” She took a deep breath. “Liz, he got out of the truck at a feed store wearing overalls.”
“Sweet Mary, mother of Joseph,” Liz swore.
“I don’t think he’s a doctor or a lawyer,” Elise said. “What do I do?”
“What do you do?” Liz shrieked. “You cancel the date, of course. You were the top seller for Waterfront Realty last month. You don’t date farmers.”
Elise gathered her client’s paperwork from the passenger’s seat. She should have known that’s what Liz would say. Liz was all about how things appeared. She didn’t even date men who were junior partners in a firm. “You think?” Elise said in a small voice.
“Look at the book, peruse the checklist,” Liz said firmly. “It’s not one of the choices, sweetie. I don’t care how fine-looking the man is.”
“I have to go,” Elise told Liz. “I’m dropping off Joe Carmine’s contracts on that warehouse.”
“Call and cancel the date,” Liz insisted. “Just call, and leave a message on Zane’s answering machine and tell him you can’t meet him, but if he wants to talk about land, he can call the office and you’ll be happy to see him.”
