Читать книгу Crazy Love - Candace Gold - Страница 6

Chapter 3

Abby stared at the dresses and suits hanging in her closet. All she had to do was pick one of them and put it on. That is, if she were like most women. Which she was not. Abby was totally traumatized when it came to dressing for blind dates. It was mostly the not knowing part, such as what the guy actually looked like or where they were going for the date, that freaked her out.

As she pondered whether she should wear her blue suit or black dress, a wicked thought crept into her mind. With Arnold being such a catch, what if she wore a yellow slicker, matching hip boots and a floppy hat like the Gorton fisherman on the frozen fish sticks box? Too bad she didn’t have the get-up. The hat would have been kinda cute. Even choosing the right pair of shoes was a problem. For instance, being five feet, ten inches, putting on any size heel would make her a giant next to a guy who was five feet, eight inches. To avoid embarrassment, flats would be a safe choice. However, with clothing, things could get hairy, which she had found out on her last blind date.

Her date, a friend of a friend, who was now an ex-friend and still refused to talk to her, had called to make her acquaintance over the phone. He sounded very nice and told Abby to dress up because they were going to a party. They made arrangements to meet at the place. The day of the party fell on Halloween so she put together a costume she thought would knock his socks off. Dressed as a vampire, complete with fake blood oozing at the corners of her mouth, she walked into the bar mitzvah and knocked everybody’s socks off. The guy never called her for another date.

Abby decided to play it safe and chose her black suit with black flats. She left her shoulder-length blond hair down and applied a minimal amount of makeup. She didn’t actually believe that any offspring of Mrs. Blackman would be an Adonis, so she prepared herself for the blind date from hell. It was only one night out of her entire life, and she could afford the sacrifice if it made her mother happy.

The doorbell rang right on time. Abby was ready and opened the door. The guy standing there was tall and matinee-handsome with neatly combed black hair that brushed the top of his jacket collar. Figuring he was someone else’s date and had rung the wrong doorbell, she immediately asked if he needed help.

“Abby? Hi. I’m Arnold.”

“Mrs. Blackman’s Arnold?” Abby asked in disbelief, as if there could be another Arnold walking around her apartment complex.

He smiled and she noticed, for the first time, that he possessed two adorable dimples. How was this possible? Either he was adopted or someone was playing an April Fool’s joke on her early.

“Come in, Arnold, while I get my coat.”

As Abby walked to the hall closet and removed her coat from the hanger, it occurred to her that she better get back home prior to midnight just in case Arnold turned into a troll. The thought remained with her as Arnold led her to a sleek-looking sports car and helped her inside. She looked around the car’s interior for any indication it was a disguised pumpkin.

Arnold had made reservations for them to see a dinner show at the Trylon. The Trylon was an old movie house that had been purchased by a theater critic who combined the best of his two favorite worlds, food and the theater, by adding a kitchen. The place became an instant success and people flocked to it.

Abby and Arnold were seated at a small round table. A waiter came by with menus and asked if they would like drinks. Arnold ordered a Scotch and soda and she had a vodka sour.

“I’ve been here on several occasions and the food is good, so it’s safe to pick anything on the menu,” Arnold said.

“That’s good to know. Since it’s a murder mystery, though, if anyone gets poisoned, they could chalk it up to audience participation.”

Arnold chuckled. “That’s very funny. Mother didn’t tell me you were funny.”

“What did your mother tell you about me?”

“Not much. She said you were tall, owned your own business and were a good catch.”

Abby wondered why everyone’s mothers seemed fixated on fishing.

The waiter returned with their drinks. “Do you know what you’d like to order, yet?”

“Abby, do you know what want?”

Abby looked up at the waiter. “I think I’d like the surf and turf.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Make it two.”

“Thank you,” the waiter said, picked up the menus, and headed to the kitchen to place their order.

Abby realized that Arnold hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the entire time. His persistent stare made her uncomfortable. Did she have something caught between her teeth or was her makeup smeared?

“You’re very pretty. Mother said you were okay, but she didn’t prepare me for the real you.”

Abby wasn’t prepared for such a backhanded compliment. “Thank you.”

“Tell me all about yourself.”

From the way he was looking at her and what he’d just said, she wondered if he might be intending to write a book. It was better than thinking he might be crazy. She’d been with guys who couldn’t even make eye contact when they spoke to her. This one could win a staring contest with a stiff.

The waiter returned with their salads, distracting Arnold for the moment. It occurred to Abby that there was a chance he wouldn’t instantly turn back into a troll at the stroke of twelve. Instead, what if the handsome veneer rubbed off slowly?

“I want to know everything about you,” he said.

“There isn’t much to tell. I own a bookstore, which you already know, and spend most of my life there. Not too exciting, I’m afraid. How about you? What’s your life like?”

“Well, you know I just got divorced, right?”

“Yes, my mom mentioned it.”

“I’m also a lawyer and work in the city.”

“What type of law do you practice?”

“Divorce law.”

Abby hadn’t been prepared for that answer. It left her speechless.

“No, I didn’t represent myself, but I did get a discount rate.”

“Convenient, I guess,” she replied. “Do you have any children?”

“No. We weren’t married long enough.”

“How long were you married?”

“A little more than six months.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Abby replied, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Now I have you.”

That sentence caused a shiver to inch down her spine.

As the waiter brought their entrees, the room lights dimmed and the play began with a loud gunshot followed by a scream off to the left somewhere. Abby nearly jumped out of her chair. She hadn’t been prepared for that, either.

The play, a black comedy about a husband who contemplates leaving his wife and opening a fast-food restaurant, lasted for about an hour-and-a-half. During that entire time, Arnold watched Abby more than the show. He was starting to creep her out. It was time to end the date.

“I certainly enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Arnold said as the house lights came up.

That was strange of him to say, since he’d been watching her the entire time. “Yes, it was fun, except…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I’ve developed a headache and need to go home.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“That’s too bad. The night’s still young and I had a great place to take you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I need to lie down.”

Reluctantly, Arnold led Abby outside toward the car. As he helped her inside, he asked, “Are you sure you want to go home?”

How many more times did he want to hear the same thing? “Positive.”

“Would you like me to rub your forehead when we get back to your place?” Arnold asked. “It helps my mother feel better when she gets a headache.”

“No, thank you. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Did you hit your head or anything–I mean do you have a concussion? I’d be glad to stay around and make sure you’re okay. When one of the moving men dropped a portable TV on my brother’s head, he got a whopper of a concussion, so I know what to do.”

“That’s okay, thanks. I wasn’t hit in the head. It’s just a headache that I don’t want to become a migraine. The best remedy for that is sleep.”

Abby couldn’t wait to get out of his car. If she never saw him again it would be too soon. All the way to her apartment he chatted away. He was giving her a real headache.

“Did your mother tell you that I moved back into my mother’s house for the time being?”

“No. She didn’t mention it.”

“That way I will be able to stop by the store and say hi.”

“Don’t bother. I can’t talk while I’m working. I’d hate for you to make the trip for nothing.”

“Just saying hello would make my day.”

Abby cringed when she heard that. She was going to have to make a clean break with this guy. “Arnold, you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think this is going to work out between us.”

“How can you say that? I think we’re just perfect for each other.”

“You can’t possibly think that. We hardly know one another.”

“I know all I need to know about you.”

Oh boy. “No. It’s probably best if we don’t see one another again. Thank you, for dinner and the show,” she said, opening the car door.

“Wait!” he said, trying to stop her.

Abby scrambled out of the car and was halfway to the apartment before he caught up to her.

“I’m serious, Arnold. I don’t want to go out with you ever again,” she said, opening her door. Blocking him with an outstretched arm, she squeezed into her apartment and slammed the door, locking it.

Abby hated to make him feel bad, but he was getting on her nerves, aside from the fact he was definitely hard of hearing. She watched through the peephole as Arnold walked slowly back to his car and got inside. Abby didn’t start breathing normally again until she heard him restart the car and drive away.

That was definitely her very last blind date. Even though it was late, she decided to call her mother to prevent her from calling at some ungodly hour in the morning to hear all about the date with Arnold. She also wanted to get it over with.

Her mother picked up on the first ring. Had she been sitting and staring at the phone, willing it to ring?

“Hi, Mom. I know it’s late, but I thought you might want to know what happened with Arnold tonight.”

“Isn’t it early for you to be home already? You do know that you no longer have a curfew, don’t you?”

“I wanted to end the date early.”

“Are you sick?”

“No–not unless you consider being sick of Arnold.”

“I don’t understand, Abby.”

“There’s nothing to understand. I just didn’t like Arnold.”

“But why? He’s such a handsome man.”

“Mom, you know you can’t judge a book by its cover–”

“Sure you can. I do it all the time. I always read the back cover of the book and if I don’t like what I read, I don’t buy it.”

Abby sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Mom.”

“Abby, you’re not–I mean–you do like men, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t like one man–Arnold.”

“What will I tell Mrs. Blackman?”

“Nothing. Arnold will tell her for you. He’s living at home now.”

“I just don’t know…”

“Well, I do. No more blind dates. They don’t work. Now, goodnight, Mother.”