“Wouldn’t you know, it turns out I downloaded myself a virus containing spyware that slowed my computer and even made it stop sometimes. Had nothing to do with the software program after all.”
Gee, that’s exactly what I’d tried to tell him. Repeatedly. “I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t our program, Mr. Watson.”
His brows came together suddenly as he felt the empty breast pocket on his collared shirt. “Left my glasses in the restroom.” Then he turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Watson chuckled as she watched the receptionist buzz her husband back to find his glasses. “Thank you for being so patient with Gilbert this past week, dear. When he gets it in his head that he’s being taken advantage of, there’s no reasoning with him. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled him very professionally. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve made him apologize over the years.”
Her admission made my mouth curve upward, especially since he’d insisted several times that his wife agreed with him. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been married?”
Her forehead crinkled and she tapped each finger against her thumb, counting. “It’ll be fifty-two years this October.”
Clearly my lack of sleep had taken its toll on my professionalism because I blurted out, “What made you decide to marry him?”
Smiling, as if the answer was obvious, she said, “Gilbert? Well, I loved him, of course.”
With five decades of marriage under her belt, this woman had to know the secret to making marriage work. “Yes, but how’d you know that you were compatible? You must’ve had the same life goals so you knew there wouldn’t be conflicts, right?”
Did my tone sound as desperate as I felt?
“Throughout our marriage, I’m guessing our ‘life goals,’ as you put it, have changed at least half a dozen times. As far as conflicts go? That man can drive me crazy as no one else in the world can, I assure you.” She slid the back of her hand across her forehead as if to wipe pretend sweat away. “Still, I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but Gilbert.”
She had to be kidding me. These were her magic words of wisdom? That she couldn’t imagine living without him? “More than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, Mrs. Watson. In order to make that lifelong decision, how did you know it would last forever?”
“I guess I didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm. “But, I wasn’t going to lose him because of statistics. I loved him and I went for it.” She winked at me. “Good thing, too. Wouldn’t you say?”
As if on cue, Gilbert strode into the lobby with his computer case slung over his shoulder and held up his glasses. “Forgot my laptop, too. Isn’t that a hoot?”
“Gilbert.” She nudged his arm. “What am I going to do with you?”
We said polite good-byes, and as I watched Mr. and Mrs. Watson head out of the lobby, holding hands after half a century of marriage, it felt like a blindfold had been lifted. There were no guarantees. If you love someone, you either go for it or you don’t.
Wait. Love? Where had that come from? I hadn’t even known Henry a week and I certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight. What a ridiculous notion for a strong, smart woman. Storybook love doesn’t exist in real life. Yet, when I’d first met Henry and looked into those deep, dark gray eyes . . . And every time I’d talked to him since . . .
It had felt like storybook love.
Okay, forget my pride. I had to find Rachel.
****
Rachel came to the office after lunch and I stormed into her cubicle. “Where have you been?”
“Ran to the mall at lunch and guess what I got?” She smiled, apparently oblivious to my desperation, as she set a double handled silver shopping bag on her desk, pulled out a shiny white shoebox, and handed it to me. “Surprise!”
“No way.” I lifted the top, pushed the tissue aside, and immediately recognized the
Gee, that’s exactly what I’d tried to tell him. Repeatedly. “I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t our program, Mr. Watson.”
His brows came together suddenly as he felt the empty breast pocket on his collared shirt. “Left my glasses in the restroom.” Then he turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Watson chuckled as she watched the receptionist buzz her husband back to find his glasses. “Thank you for being so patient with Gilbert this past week, dear. When he gets it in his head that he’s being taken advantage of, there’s no reasoning with him. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled him very professionally. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve made him apologize over the years.”
Her admission made my mouth curve upward, especially since he’d insisted several times that his wife agreed with him. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been married?”
Her forehead crinkled and she tapped each finger against her thumb, counting. “It’ll be fifty-two years this October.”
Clearly my lack of sleep had taken its toll on my professionalism because I blurted out, “What made you decide to marry him?”
Smiling, as if the answer was obvious, she said, “Gilbert? Well, I loved him, of course.”
With five decades of marriage under her belt, this woman had to know the secret to making marriage work. “Yes, but how’d you know that you were compatible? You must’ve had the same life goals so you knew there wouldn’t be conflicts, right?”
Did my tone sound as desperate as I felt?
“Throughout our marriage, I’m guessing our ‘life goals,’ as you put it, have changed at least half a dozen times. As far as conflicts go? That man can drive me crazy as no one else in the world can, I assure you.” She slid the back of her hand across her forehead as if to wipe pretend sweat away. “Still, I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but Gilbert.”
She had to be kidding me. These were her magic words of wisdom? That she couldn’t imagine living without him? “More than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, Mrs. Watson. In order to make that lifelong decision, how did you know it would last forever?”
“I guess I didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm. “But, I wasn’t going to lose him because of statistics. I loved him and I went for it.” She winked at me. “Good thing, too. Wouldn’t you say?”
As if on cue, Gilbert strode into the lobby with his computer case slung over his shoulder and held up his glasses. “Forgot my laptop, too. Isn’t that a hoot?”
“Gilbert.” She nudged his arm. “What am I going to do with you?”
We said polite good-byes, and as I watched Mr. and Mrs. Watson head out of the lobby, holding hands after half a century of marriage, it felt like a blindfold had been lifted. There were no guarantees. If you love someone, you either go for it or you don’t.
Wait. Love? Where had that come from? I hadn’t even known Henry a week and I certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight. What a ridiculous notion for a strong, smart woman. Storybook love doesn’t exist in real life. Yet, when I’d first met Henry and looked into those deep, dark gray eyes . . . And every time I’d talked to him since . . .
It had felt like storybook love.
Okay, forget my pride. I had to find Rachel.
****
Rachel came to the office after lunch and I stormed into her cubicle. “Where have you been?”
“Ran to the mall at lunch and guess what I got?” She smiled, apparently oblivious to my desperation, as she set a double handled silver shopping bag on her desk, pulled out a shiny white shoebox, and handed it to me. “Surprise!”
“No way.” I lifted the top, pushed the tissue aside, and immediately recognized the
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