tucked his hands in his pockets. “Trick-or-treat is strictly an American tradition. And with Rebecca gone . . . Well, I thought if I turned out the porch light, the kiddies would take the hint. But there’s no dissuading them. They wouldn’t quit ringing the bell. And when I opened the door to tell them the bad news, they gave me such devilish faces, I thought I’d better come over here to be safe. Perhaps I can hide behind the pencil bowl.”
I grimaced. “I’m not having any better luck than you bribing a smile out of those ungrateful little monsters. I’m getting the idea that pencils and stickers don’t qualify as treats in their mind. Tricks, maybe.”
He looked over his shoulder as the next batch of hooligans walked up the sidewalk.
“Let me give it a go.” He came up the steps and took the bowl out of my grip. “I’ll get rid of every last one of them.”
My brow furrowed. Get rid of the trick-or-treaters? This was my once-a-year missionary opportunity.
“The pencils, I mean,” he said, and shook the bowl.
The new arrivals gave the call and came close to collect their prize. Their hands pulled back in hesitation.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” David scolded them. “These pencils will be valuable antiquities one day. Put one in your trinket box, and I guarantee when you graduate from high school, you’ll be able to sell it on eBay and pay your way through college.”
At his words, tiny fingers grabbed indiscriminately at the bowl, rushing to take more than one goody.
I giggled into my hand, pleased with his clever sales job.
“It’s definitely a different world than the one I grew up in,” I said as the kids left and made their way to less future-oriented porches.
David crossed his arms and leaned against the vestibule wall, shaking his head. “Today’s kindergartners are more versed in computers than most adults.”
I looked to the ground, embarrassed by my own ignorance. “I guess not everybody’s had the opportunity to be around one.”
His hand touched my chin. I met his eyes, fascinated by the pale, yet piercing, blue.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly. “A career in computers was my dream as a kid. I feel very fortunate that I was able to make that dream happen.”
More goblins and hobos came to the door and David made his pitch. Only five pencils remained when the last trick-or-treater disappeared into the night. I tore the Lazarus wrap from my head, glad to be liberated. “Thanks for helping out,” I said, walking after David onto the porch.
“My pleasure.” He paused on the top step.
I smoothed my hair. “I never could have gotten rid of all those pencils without you.”
He turned and started down the stairs, but paused and looked back.
“Tish, would you have dinner with me next Friday?”
My heart slammed to a halt.
His words transported me to Single Woman’s Euphoria. His was my second invitation to dinner since I moved in. Poor Brad hadn’t had a chance, of course. Lousy timing, along with a poor choice of occupation, had doomed him from the start.
David came up the steps and leaned close, his mouth magnifying before my eyes. My breath drained out as I imagined those lips against mine.
“Dinner? Next Friday?” I couldn’t think of a single conflict, besides the fact that he was a married man.
I grabbed hold of my enthusiasm and stuffed it in under a rock. “You know, David, normally I’d love to go to dinner with you. But, um, you’re really not free to ask.”
Sadness welled up in his eyes. “The divorce papers came today. It’s officially over between Rebecca and me.”
My breath caught.
“I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t begin to imagine his pain. “Are you sure you’re ready to go on a date?”
He swallowed and nodded. “It’s been a really lonely year. We could get together and just talk.”
“Okay. Sure. Dinner sounds nice.”
“Thanks, Tish. How’s seven o’clock at the Rawlings
I grimaced. “I’m not having any better luck than you bribing a smile out of those ungrateful little monsters. I’m getting the idea that pencils and stickers don’t qualify as treats in their mind. Tricks, maybe.”
He looked over his shoulder as the next batch of hooligans walked up the sidewalk.
“Let me give it a go.” He came up the steps and took the bowl out of my grip. “I’ll get rid of every last one of them.”
My brow furrowed. Get rid of the trick-or-treaters? This was my once-a-year missionary opportunity.
“The pencils, I mean,” he said, and shook the bowl.
The new arrivals gave the call and came close to collect their prize. Their hands pulled back in hesitation.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” David scolded them. “These pencils will be valuable antiquities one day. Put one in your trinket box, and I guarantee when you graduate from high school, you’ll be able to sell it on eBay and pay your way through college.”
At his words, tiny fingers grabbed indiscriminately at the bowl, rushing to take more than one goody.
I giggled into my hand, pleased with his clever sales job.
“It’s definitely a different world than the one I grew up in,” I said as the kids left and made their way to less future-oriented porches.
David crossed his arms and leaned against the vestibule wall, shaking his head. “Today’s kindergartners are more versed in computers than most adults.”
I looked to the ground, embarrassed by my own ignorance. “I guess not everybody’s had the opportunity to be around one.”
His hand touched my chin. I met his eyes, fascinated by the pale, yet piercing, blue.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly. “A career in computers was my dream as a kid. I feel very fortunate that I was able to make that dream happen.”
More goblins and hobos came to the door and David made his pitch. Only five pencils remained when the last trick-or-treater disappeared into the night. I tore the Lazarus wrap from my head, glad to be liberated. “Thanks for helping out,” I said, walking after David onto the porch.
“My pleasure.” He paused on the top step.
I smoothed my hair. “I never could have gotten rid of all those pencils without you.”
He turned and started down the stairs, but paused and looked back.
“Tish, would you have dinner with me next Friday?”
My heart slammed to a halt.
His words transported me to Single Woman’s Euphoria. His was my second invitation to dinner since I moved in. Poor Brad hadn’t had a chance, of course. Lousy timing, along with a poor choice of occupation, had doomed him from the start.
David came up the steps and leaned close, his mouth magnifying before my eyes. My breath drained out as I imagined those lips against mine.
“Dinner? Next Friday?” I couldn’t think of a single conflict, besides the fact that he was a married man.
I grabbed hold of my enthusiasm and stuffed it in under a rock. “You know, David, normally I’d love to go to dinner with you. But, um, you’re really not free to ask.”
Sadness welled up in his eyes. “The divorce papers came today. It’s officially over between Rebecca and me.”
My breath caught.
“I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t begin to imagine his pain. “Are you sure you’re ready to go on a date?”
He swallowed and nodded. “It’s been a really lonely year. We could get together and just talk.”
“Okay. Sure. Dinner sounds nice.”
“Thanks, Tish. How’s seven o’clock at the Rawlings
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