Fiancé at Her Fingertips (3 page)

Several weeks later, Debra reflected on the success of her little campaign and sighed with satisfaction. Her one-woman show was working out better than she could ever have hoped. She had her coworkers positively salivating over her mystery man, the object of Debra’s closely guarded affections, the veritable wizard who could make the perennial winner of the Office Workaholic Award take a lunch break and go home at quitting time, the macho, macho man who put a spring in ho-hum Daniels’s nine-and-a-half, wide-width oxfords and a smile on her face as big as her dad’s when he beat his handicap in golf.

Last week Debra had finally put her mother out of her misery and spoon-fed both parents additional information about the man in her life. Debra chuckled, recalling the conversation.

“Logan? He’s a…lawyer?” her mother had exclaimed. Her parents’ mouths had dropped open in unison, as if they’d rehearsed, and they exchanged a stunned look. “A lawyer?”

“That’s right. He works in criminal law now primarily, but also dabbles in family law.”

Her mother had looked at Debra as if she’d just announced her intention to dye her hair glow-in-the-dark orange with a neon green stripe down the middle.

“A lawyer,” her mother repeated. “Where did you meet this…this…lawyer?”

“At the mall,” Debra responded.

“The mall?” Her parents had acquired the annoying habit of parroting everything she said.

“In a novelty shop.”

“A novelty shop?”

Debra nodded. “I looked up and there he was.”

“What on earth possessed you to strike up a conversation with a total stranger—in a novelty shop, of all places?” her mother asked. “What was he doing there in the first place?”

“I got the impression he was waiting for someone to pick him up,” Debra said, trying hard not to laugh outright at her mother’s horror. Later, when her parents learned the truth about good old Lawyer Logan, they would replay this conversation and all have a good laugh.

“Pick him up?”

“I was joking, Mother. Let’s see. How can I describe my feelings when I looked up and saw Lawyer Logan…?”
And
do it without laughing?
Debra thought, biting her lip to keep from doing just that. “I got this overwhelming feeling he might very well be just the thing to fill that void in my life you are all so concerned with. From the moment I laid eyes on him I felt that he could be the perfect man for me.”

“But…a lawyer? Why, you’ve been known to say that under the word ‘dung’ in the dictionary, it says, ‘See attorney.’ Isn’t that right, Stuart? Now you’re dating one?”

“Logan’s different, Mother. He’s not your typical lawyer. When they created him, they broke the mold.” Debra gave a silent
tsk-
tsk
. She was a
baad
girl.

“Well, I, for one, cannot wait to meet this paragon,” her mother said.

“Whoa, there, Nelly.” Debra halted the runaway welcome wagon before it reached Pony Express speed. “We’re nowhere near the take-him-home-to-meet-Mom stage. I only ran across him a month or so ago. We’re still in that awkward breaking-in phase.”

Her mother sniffed. “At least tell me what he looks like.”

“He’s very nice-looking. Quite handsome, in fact.”

“That tells me a lot, Debra. Be specific!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mother. He’s got dark hair and blue eyes. He’s over six feet, three inches tall and wears a forty-four-long suit coat. He likes polos, khakis, and shorts for casual, and prefers boxers to briefs.” Debra bit her tongue.
Good Lord
. Why had she said that?

Her parents’ eyes met.

“And how would you know something like that, Snickers?” her father asked, using the nickname she’d acquired from her candy-loving days as a child.

Debra executed a noisy swallow. “That was just another little joke, Dad. I feel like I’m getting the third degree here. My, uh, relationship with Logan is in the very preliminary stage. So far he seems to be everything I’ve wanted in a boyfriend, but I’m taking it slow and easy. I don’t want Logan to feel boxed in.”

She’d almost lost it on that one. But she hadn’t; she’d bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing and it had all turned out fine. The next step in Debra’s hunk hoax had involved giving her office mates and her parents an actual peek at the hunk in question.

The following day she’d placed Lawyer Logan’s five-by-seven in a fancy silver frame and displayed it just so, in a place of prominence in her cubicle. By the end of the day Debra was convinced that workers’ comp claims in her department were about to skyrocket as a result of neck and back injuries from the sharp turnabouts executed when coworkers got a look. Logan’s photo had been picked up so often, the frame was already dulled.

And her mother? Debra giggled when she recalled her mother’s reaction. Alva Daniels had almost required a defibrillator when Debra flashed one of the wallet-size photos at her folks.

Debra’s mirth now changed to an uncertain frown as she studied her own image in the work restroom mirror and
wondered—not for the first time—if she’d made a big mistake with this latest step in her bogus-beau campaign: the all-important make over. Before, she had always insisted on a simple, low-maintenance, no-frills haircut. This time, however, she’d thrown caution to the wind and requested a whole new, dramatic look.

What was that saying again—
Be careful what you wish for
? Well, she’d certainly gotten her wish—and so had her stylist. After being restricted to performing the same old boring cut year after year, her stylist had accepted the challenge with the undying enthusiasm of a die-hard Cubbies fan at the beginning of the major-league season. The long-suffering Angela started with a body perm and trim, and finished up with dramatic highlights. Debra prayed she hadn’t gone too extreme in the make over department—and that, by some miracle, she’d be able to replicate Angela’s creation if the style was a success.

She had also ventured into one of those make over places that hawked miracle wrinkle cream and charged an arm and a leg for a tube of lipstick. Under the guise of treating Suzi to a birthday make over, Debra had shamelessly sacrificed her friend as a guinea pig. Only when she was satisfied that Suzi wasn’t transformed into a lady of the evening, postmake over, did Debra summon the courage to put her own face under the magnifying mirror.

Looking at the stranger in the mirror staring back at her now, Debra still had serious doubts about her new look. It was a startling change from her norm. Why, that very morning Murray, the parking lot attendant, hadn’t even recognized her, and she’d had to haul out her ID and parking permit before he’d open the gate. Even then, he wasn’t convinced she was who she said she was. And in what had to be the first-ever documented case, Tanya Templeton’s mouth had dropped open at the sight of Debra, but no words had followed. Definitely one for the record books.

By midmorning Debra was convinced she must have looked like a dowdy old frump before. Peter in payroll took
a look at her uncharacteristic skirt wearing and remarked, “I didn’t know you had legs, but, boy, do you have legs!” The soon-to-be-retired head of victims services, Chuck Dean, stopped dead in his tracks, removed his glasses, wiped them on his tie, then stuck them back on his nose and remarked, “Looking good, Investigator Daniels. I mean, you’re
really
looking good.” Kendra Kelley, fellow investigator and prime competitor for the supervisory opening, made a snide comment about how some people were going all-out to impress the selection committee, and wondered if perhaps Botox injections were next. And so it had gone.

At ten of five there was a knock at Debra’s cubicle. Tanya poked her head in. “Just thought I’d let you know I’m leaving. You’re the last one here. I suppose you have big plans with Logan this weekend,” she said, picking up his photograph and sighing. “What is it this time? Golf? Motorcycling? Dinner and a movie? Great sex?”

Debra swiveled around in her chair and rubbed the kinks in her neck. “I don’t know. Logan mentioned something about rock climbing, but maybe we’ll just kick back this weekend. Throw something on the grill. Rent a video or two.”

Tanya’s brow wrinkled. “Rock climbing?”

“I might find time to get in a swim and a workout at the club, though.”

Tanya’s mouth flopped open again. It was becoming a habit every time Debra opened hers.

“Workout? As in, exercise? And sweating? You don’t even belong to a club.”

“I do now,” Debra said, and almost laughed at the look on Tanya’s face. “My friend Suzi’s been after me about it and now Logan’s convinced me to give it a try. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime. We could swim laps together, or play a little racquetball. Suzi’s trying to get me to take that up, too.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tanya said. “Sure. Oh, here are the messages you missed while you were on that conference call.”

Debra took the stack of pink slips. “Thanks, Tanya. Have a terrific weekend, you hear?”

“Right. Right.”

As soon as Debra heard the ding of the elevator, she sank back into her chair and chuckled. There had to be a law against having this much fun.

She looked through the messages in her hand to determine if any needed to be returned before she left for the weekend. She discarded several as having been dealt with, and put three in her datebook to return Monday. She glanced at the last remaining message. She read it. Then she read it again. She sat back in her chair. She leaned forward again and picked up the pink slip of paper and brought it close to her face. She slumped back again. This couldn’t be right.

She turned the message on its side and then upside down. She flipped it over and viewed it from the rear. She held it up to the light and squinted as if it were a contested Florida election ballot. There had to be some mistake; that had to be the reason she was presently staring at big block letters that spelled out the name Logan at the top of the pink slip of paper by the
M./Ms
. on the form. A fat little heart sat beside the word.

She checked the date. Today’s date. She checked the time. Four seventeen p. m.—the time she was making the conference call. She stared at the box marked with a dark, slashing X:

Will call again? Impossible! He hadn’t called the first time.

She sat and stared at the message, transfixed. This was not one of the messages she had planted, or that had come in the Fiancé at Your Fingertips box. So it had to be a mistake. Or Tanya was screwing with her. Or maybe it was meant for
someone else who happened to know someone named Logan, and Tanya had put it in Debra’s box by mistake. That had to be it. Just one of those eerie coincidences. Your basic Twilight Zone. She hummed the show’s theme music.

Her phone rang. She looked at it, then at the message.

She stared at the phone. It kept ringing.

Reaching out, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?” she whispered.

“Is that you, Debra?” Debra recognized her friend’s voice on the other end of the line. “Speak up, would you? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, Suzi, it’s me,” Debra said, expelling her breath in a rush of air, disgusted with her ridiculous flight of fancy. She shook her head. Had she really expected to hear a strange male voice on the other end of the phone announce, “Hi, gorgeous, this is Logan. Wanna get lucky?”

“What do you want?” Debra asked.

“Oh, that’s nice. ‘What do you want?’ As if I just call up whenever I want something from you,” her friend complained. “I wanted to know if you had plans with that mystery man of yours, or if you’d like to catch a flick and pig out afterward. My day went from bad to worse. I had to terminate someone today for body odor.”

Debra was slow to recover her equilibrium over the message mix-up.

“Hello? Did you hear me, Deb? I had to fire someone for BO!”

Debra finally focused on her friend’s words. “BO? You fired someone because of body odor? Couldn’t you just give them a bar of soap and some deodorant and explain how to use it?” Suzi was assistant director of human resources at a Springfield publishing company.

“I tried that route numerous times. I even had the company nurse counsel him, but do you think he cleaned up his act? Heck, no. Now he says he has this disease that makes him reek and he can’t help it. I think he saw that TV show about the lady who sued her company when they fired her for gross body odor. She maintained that she had some type of disorder that caused her to stink. I guess there
is
such a condition. Can you believe that? They’ve got a disorder for everything now, including excessive odor. Of course, our employee didn’t even have a nodding acquaintance with soap and water. I don’t understand people like that, do you?”

“There are lots of people I don’t understand, Suzi.”

“Are we talking about your mother again?”

“No, we are not talking about my mother!”

“Oh. So, you up for the movie, or is Don Juan up for you?”

“For heaven’s sake, Suzi, this is a business line.”

“Sorry. So, what’s it to be?”

“Give me a rain check, would you, Suz? A nice, quiet evening at home sounds very appealing to me all of a sudden.”

“Don’t tell me you’re becoming a homebody already.”

“Of course not. I’m just a little tired.”

“Is Mr. Flowers and Candy keeping you up all night? Oops, sorry again.”

“How about a game of racquetball tomorrow?” Debra suggested, trying to change the subject. “I’ll call and reserve a court and let you know what time.”

“Sure, why not? While I regularly beat your butt in tennis, I haven’t had the chance to beat you in racquetball yet,” Suzi teased.

“Dream on, girlfriend. Talk to you later.”

Debra hung up the phone, and her gaze drifted back to the pink message in her hand. She crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage. A weird coincidence—that was all it was. Just one of those freaky coincidences. Or, if she didn’t know better, someone’s clever way of saying: It’s not nice to fool mother, Mother Nature or not.