exclusion of enjoying the rest that life has to offer. It’s not healthy. How many dates did you go on last month?”
“Uh-uh, not a fair question. I traveled for three of those weeks.”
“When was the last time you spent a Saturday afternoon hanging out with friends?”
Annabelle was smug with triumph. “Gotcha! You met me for coffee in Paris last weekend.”
“Annabelle, you were on your way to the airport, and I had an hour before catching a train to Milan. A chance meeting in the middle of Europe isn’t a quality social encounter.”
Too bad. It had been the highlight of her week. “I imagine there are people who would find sitting in a Parisian café with their best friend a nice way to spend an hour.”
“Don’t be snide. You’re dodging my point, and you know it. Okay, try something simpler. Spring is here—have you stopped in the middle of a sidewalk to sniff the apple blossoms?” Vanessa shook her head sadly. “I love you, which means I worry about you. I don’t want you to wake up at fifty, alone in bed with only your laptop to keep you warm, and wonder what happened to the best years of your life.”
Annabelle was moved by her friend’s words. “Believe it or not, recently I’ve started to worry about that exact thing. I promise I’ll try to relax my schedule a little. Maybe even get a cat to warm the other side of my bed.”
“I’m serious, Annabelle. Promise me you’ll make every effort to live a little.”
Annabelle shook her head to clear the memories. When she found her, Vanessa would be thrilled to hear about tonight’s date. Going to dinner with a near stranger because he brought flowers—well, it ranked pretty high on the spontaneity scale.
“I suppose it’s too late in the season for apple blossoms?” she asked Mark.
“You’d have to head north a few states for those.” He cocked his head. “Why? Do you have a hankering for apples?”
“Just looking for something to stop and sniff. Silly of me, I guess.”
“Not at all. The air here’s thick with the scent of flowers. It must be a drastic change of pace for someone from the concrete jungle of New York.”
“Something like that,” she agreed as he led her into a restaurant. In short order they were seated by a large window overlooking Market Street. After they ordered and the wine was poured, Mark lifted his glass.
“To chance meetings.”
Annabelle smiled as she touched her glass to his. “How lovely. I never know what to say in a toast. I end up completely tongue-tied.”
“You?” Mark made a comical face of mock surprise. “At a loss for words? Hard to believe.”
“I’m much better at putting words down on paper. It gives me a chance to filter out mistakes.”
“But it also removes spontaneity. What about the ability to truly be in the moment and have an honest reaction?”
Her response was dry as the aged Merlot they were drinking. “Trust me, my editors prefer it.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “You mentioned your father earlier. What is he like?”
She took a very deliberate sip of wine. “He could be harsh,” she said slowly. “He traveled all the time, and when he was home he expected his family to run as smoothly as his corporation. Dealing with the normal foibles of childhood simply wasn’t on his schedule.”
“The way you talk about him - I take it your father passed away?”
She nodded. “About five years ago. His lifestyle was a heart attack waiting to happen—and it finally did.”
He laid a hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This may sound callous, but it all worked out for the best. My mother was desperately unhappy with him for years.”
“Did she stay because of you?”
Annabelle bit her lip. “Yes. Well, not just me. My brother Jonathan, as well. I begged her to leave him time and again. I was positive we could pick up and start a new life far away.”
She was quiet while their salads were served. It hit her that with very little
“Uh-uh, not a fair question. I traveled for three of those weeks.”
“When was the last time you spent a Saturday afternoon hanging out with friends?”
Annabelle was smug with triumph. “Gotcha! You met me for coffee in Paris last weekend.”
“Annabelle, you were on your way to the airport, and I had an hour before catching a train to Milan. A chance meeting in the middle of Europe isn’t a quality social encounter.”
Too bad. It had been the highlight of her week. “I imagine there are people who would find sitting in a Parisian café with their best friend a nice way to spend an hour.”
“Don’t be snide. You’re dodging my point, and you know it. Okay, try something simpler. Spring is here—have you stopped in the middle of a sidewalk to sniff the apple blossoms?” Vanessa shook her head sadly. “I love you, which means I worry about you. I don’t want you to wake up at fifty, alone in bed with only your laptop to keep you warm, and wonder what happened to the best years of your life.”
Annabelle was moved by her friend’s words. “Believe it or not, recently I’ve started to worry about that exact thing. I promise I’ll try to relax my schedule a little. Maybe even get a cat to warm the other side of my bed.”
“I’m serious, Annabelle. Promise me you’ll make every effort to live a little.”
Annabelle shook her head to clear the memories. When she found her, Vanessa would be thrilled to hear about tonight’s date. Going to dinner with a near stranger because he brought flowers—well, it ranked pretty high on the spontaneity scale.
“I suppose it’s too late in the season for apple blossoms?” she asked Mark.
“You’d have to head north a few states for those.” He cocked his head. “Why? Do you have a hankering for apples?”
“Just looking for something to stop and sniff. Silly of me, I guess.”
“Not at all. The air here’s thick with the scent of flowers. It must be a drastic change of pace for someone from the concrete jungle of New York.”
“Something like that,” she agreed as he led her into a restaurant. In short order they were seated by a large window overlooking Market Street. After they ordered and the wine was poured, Mark lifted his glass.
“To chance meetings.”
Annabelle smiled as she touched her glass to his. “How lovely. I never know what to say in a toast. I end up completely tongue-tied.”
“You?” Mark made a comical face of mock surprise. “At a loss for words? Hard to believe.”
“I’m much better at putting words down on paper. It gives me a chance to filter out mistakes.”
“But it also removes spontaneity. What about the ability to truly be in the moment and have an honest reaction?”
Her response was dry as the aged Merlot they were drinking. “Trust me, my editors prefer it.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “You mentioned your father earlier. What is he like?”
She took a very deliberate sip of wine. “He could be harsh,” she said slowly. “He traveled all the time, and when he was home he expected his family to run as smoothly as his corporation. Dealing with the normal foibles of childhood simply wasn’t on his schedule.”
“The way you talk about him - I take it your father passed away?”
She nodded. “About five years ago. His lifestyle was a heart attack waiting to happen—and it finally did.”
He laid a hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This may sound callous, but it all worked out for the best. My mother was desperately unhappy with him for years.”
“Did she stay because of you?”
Annabelle bit her lip. “Yes. Well, not just me. My brother Jonathan, as well. I begged her to leave him time and again. I was positive we could pick up and start a new life far away.”
She was quiet while their salads were served. It hit her that with very little
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