brilliant smile, sapphire-blue eyes, long blond hair, and delicate, creamy skin; the five-foot ten-inch body that turned heads wherever she went.
"You know she's loaded, right?"
"Well, I suspected with two uber-lawyers for parents, she might be well-off."
"Her parents do okay. But they both come from old money. Lisa has this huge trust fund…I'm talking eight figures before the decimal point…but she never touches it except to write checks to charities and stuff. She lives off her salary. I mean, she could be some ditzy playgirl like…what's her name…Paris Hilton or something, but that's not what she wants, you know. I mean, she really is so…what's the word you used yesterday…unassuming and straightforward. And she's way more interested in other people than herself." He sighed. "I guess that's why everyone finds her so sweet and charming."
Paul just nodded, knowing his friend was mostly talking to remind himself of all the things he loved about the woman who might soon shatter his heart.
Lisa's favorite bench was about 100 yards ahead, diagonally across from the Bull & Finch Pub, the inspiration for the 1980's television comedy Cheers . Set back a few yards from the sidewalk, the bench was still hidden by the shrubs and trees that lined the park.
Paul was on the street side of the sidewalk so his view cleared the trees a split second before Rob's did. He reached for his friend's arm, but it was too late. Ahead, seated on her bench, Lisa was engaged in animated conversation with a man. She was laughing at something he said and reached out to touch his arm. As she made contact, she glanced over his shoulder and noticed Paul and Rob, who had come to an abrupt halt. Paul was watching Rob and Rob was staring at her, shoulders slumped. He looked like he'd been punched. Then, before she had time to react, Rob turned on his heel and walked away. Lisa's gaze shifted to Paul, who sighed, pursed his lips, and with a slight shake of his head, turned and hurried to catch up with his friend.
When he'd matched pace, he said, "Hey, slow down. It's…"
"Forget it, man." Rob's head was shaking so fast it seemed to be shivering. "I should have known. What an idiot I am. Taking a break. Right."
Rob's cell phone rang. He didn't even glance at the display before turning it off.
"Why didn't you answer it? She might…"
Again Rob cut him off. "Hey, I have no right to complain. She can see anyone she wants. Hell, I was out with, ah, what's-her-name last night, wasn't I? Fair is fair. What did you think? She'd sit around like a nun?"
"Well, I hadn't…"
"She's a great girl." There was no mistaking the despair in his voice. "She can have anyone she wants." And then a few silent steps later. "Anyone she wants."
3:30 PM
Jillian and six of the crowd who witnessed the delivery of the flowers that morning sat around the oval table in the break/conference room. One of the perks of working at Metro Magazine was management's laid-back attitude. As long as the work was done on time to meet deadlines and you showed up bright and cheery for meetings, they didn't much care whether you stayed glued to your desk all day or wandered the halls. It made for a relaxed atmosphere where creative people could work and rest as needed.
Pumping Jillian for information about Paul seemed to be the day's sport. Her co-workers alternately sighed, smiled, laughed, and cooed with appreciation as she told them about how they met, the fateful lunch, and of the late night conversation.
Finally, Marie asked the question that was on everyone's lips. "So when's the big date?"
"Friday. Tomorrow."
"Where's he taking you?"
"I don't know." She repeated what she'd told Paul.
Dave Webber, one of the layout guys chuckled. "Now that could be dangerous. Giving a guy carte blanche to surprise you! How bold! And here we all thought you were so quiet and conservative. You know, some men might take that as an invitation to, let's say, some interpersonal
"You know she's loaded, right?"
"Well, I suspected with two uber-lawyers for parents, she might be well-off."
"Her parents do okay. But they both come from old money. Lisa has this huge trust fund…I'm talking eight figures before the decimal point…but she never touches it except to write checks to charities and stuff. She lives off her salary. I mean, she could be some ditzy playgirl like…what's her name…Paris Hilton or something, but that's not what she wants, you know. I mean, she really is so…what's the word you used yesterday…unassuming and straightforward. And she's way more interested in other people than herself." He sighed. "I guess that's why everyone finds her so sweet and charming."
Paul just nodded, knowing his friend was mostly talking to remind himself of all the things he loved about the woman who might soon shatter his heart.
Lisa's favorite bench was about 100 yards ahead, diagonally across from the Bull & Finch Pub, the inspiration for the 1980's television comedy Cheers . Set back a few yards from the sidewalk, the bench was still hidden by the shrubs and trees that lined the park.
Paul was on the street side of the sidewalk so his view cleared the trees a split second before Rob's did. He reached for his friend's arm, but it was too late. Ahead, seated on her bench, Lisa was engaged in animated conversation with a man. She was laughing at something he said and reached out to touch his arm. As she made contact, she glanced over his shoulder and noticed Paul and Rob, who had come to an abrupt halt. Paul was watching Rob and Rob was staring at her, shoulders slumped. He looked like he'd been punched. Then, before she had time to react, Rob turned on his heel and walked away. Lisa's gaze shifted to Paul, who sighed, pursed his lips, and with a slight shake of his head, turned and hurried to catch up with his friend.
When he'd matched pace, he said, "Hey, slow down. It's…"
"Forget it, man." Rob's head was shaking so fast it seemed to be shivering. "I should have known. What an idiot I am. Taking a break. Right."
Rob's cell phone rang. He didn't even glance at the display before turning it off.
"Why didn't you answer it? She might…"
Again Rob cut him off. "Hey, I have no right to complain. She can see anyone she wants. Hell, I was out with, ah, what's-her-name last night, wasn't I? Fair is fair. What did you think? She'd sit around like a nun?"
"Well, I hadn't…"
"She's a great girl." There was no mistaking the despair in his voice. "She can have anyone she wants." And then a few silent steps later. "Anyone she wants."
3:30 PM
Jillian and six of the crowd who witnessed the delivery of the flowers that morning sat around the oval table in the break/conference room. One of the perks of working at Metro Magazine was management's laid-back attitude. As long as the work was done on time to meet deadlines and you showed up bright and cheery for meetings, they didn't much care whether you stayed glued to your desk all day or wandered the halls. It made for a relaxed atmosphere where creative people could work and rest as needed.
Pumping Jillian for information about Paul seemed to be the day's sport. Her co-workers alternately sighed, smiled, laughed, and cooed with appreciation as she told them about how they met, the fateful lunch, and of the late night conversation.
Finally, Marie asked the question that was on everyone's lips. "So when's the big date?"
"Friday. Tomorrow."
"Where's he taking you?"
"I don't know." She repeated what she'd told Paul.
Dave Webber, one of the layout guys chuckled. "Now that could be dangerous. Giving a guy carte blanche to surprise you! How bold! And here we all thought you were so quiet and conservative. You know, some men might take that as an invitation to, let's say, some interpersonal
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