Page 21 of Love's a Script
There was silence. Ruben opened his mouth, but no words came.
“Well,” Junie said, laughing, “I think Mary won that round.”
Chapter Twelve
The congestion on the road had let up, and Ruben’s back-and-forth with Mary had inspired the driver, Patrick, to ask for help in planning his fifteenth wedding anniversary.
“How can I make it nice for my wife?” Patrick had asked, and instead of lobbing generic suggestions, Mary leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would allow and launched into a series of questions.
God, Ruben liked her. She possessed a wit that wasn’t immediately obvious but was completely enrapturing when revealed. He liked that she never ceded to his perspective on subjects. That she pushed him to reassess his ideas. And listening to her now, he liked the effort she was putting into creating a bespoke itinerary for Patrick and his wife. She suggested a visit to a botanical garden, afternoon tea, and a flip through of their wedding photo album.
“And if you end up choosing Filomena for dinner,” Mary said, “call to book a reservation and tell them Mary Neilson sent you. They’ll give you priority seating and comp apps and dessert.”
“Oh, very generous. Very generous!” Patrick replied.
As Mary relaxed back into her seat, Ruben got another waft of the fragrance he’d first caught when she entered the car. Sweet but subtle, like the air in a bakery. It suited the woman who wore it: one had to draw near to experience its full impact, but even then it never overwhelmed.
Ruben inwardly winced, suddenly aware of the odd direction of his thoughts. He turned his attention outside his window where he anchored his mind to the task of counting the streetlights they passed. Thirty-seven streetlights later, they reached the sisters’ destination. Ruben got out of the car so they could exit onto the sidewalk instead of the snow-packed road.
“Careful, there’s some ice here,” he said, offering his hand to Mary for support.
After finding her footing, Mary squeezed his hand and thanked him. “You’re welcome,” he replied as an odd sensation pressed his stomach. A late-night hunger pang, he reasoned and moved to help Mary’s sister, but Hattie was already out of the car and staring at him.
“You look familiar,” she said, leaning close, squinting. “Did you go to Eastglen?”
“No, Old Scona.”
“Huh, I swear I know you from somewhere, though.”
“I host a radio show, so maybe?—”
“That’s it! Intensive Purposes, right?”
He smiled despite the error.
“My husband listens to your show sometimes.”
“Thank him for me.”
“I will, and?—”
“Hattie, you’re holding them up,” Mary said, tugging at her sister’s arm. They all said goodbye for the last time, and the women walked off into the still neighborhood while Ruben reentered the car.
“Honestly, I have more faith in matchmaking having met Mary,” Junie said. “She seems great.”
Ruben nodded. “She is.”
The downtown sidewalks were bustling with office workers heading to lunch, Mary and Eden among them. With the newly fallen snow squeaking under their boots, the women spoke of their mornings until Mary, without warning, stopped in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Eden asked, halting as well. Mary didn’t respond and cut through the stream of pedestrians to a random store’s display window.
“What the hell are you doing?” Eden asked, following Mary on the detour.
“Just looking,” Mary said.
“At orthopedic loafers?”
Mary hadn’t noticed the shoes set up on pedestals and mannequins behind the glass, too focused on watching the foot traffic behind her in the window’s reflection. She was waiting for the tall man she’d spotted to pass, and when he finally did, she realized it wasn’t Ruben like she’d believed when she saw the stranger’s frame and dense, coily hair in the distance.
