Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3) Page 8

  Aimee nodded. “Good luck with your case. What about matches? I know Josiah wasn’t what you wanted, but why don’t you let Edwina get you another match?”

  “I don’t have time for dating right now.”

  “If you don’t make time for dating, you’ll never get married.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Charlene observed. “But if I don’t, so what? What’s so bad about never marrying?”

  “Nothing, if it’s what you want, but I don’t think it is.”

  Charlene looked away from Aimee’s gaze. “What I want now is another cup of coffee.” She set her empty cup on the edge of the table to catch their waiter’s attention, and after he poured her a cup, she changed the subject. “How’s your roommate Mandy?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve still hardly met the girl. She popped in to pick up some things and pay the rent and was gone again before we could have a real conversation.” Aimee nibbled at her fruit cup. “It must be nice to be rich.”

  “Are you doing okay, Aimee? Financially, I mean?”

  Aimee chewed her bite of melon. “Yes, as long as Mandy’s helping with rent. And if things work out with Frank, maybe I won’t have to worry about money.”

  Charlene looked like she was about to say something and then changed her mind. “Let me know if you need any help.” As Aimee started to object, she added, “I don’t mean just money. I have an excellent financial planner that could help you with a budget.”

  Aimee nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need it.”

  Nothing sounded drearier than hours spent going over numbers with a judgmental accountant. She would just have to be thrifty and hope Mandy stuck around awhile. Anyway, she didn’t want to worry over money matters. She wanted to relive her day with Frank and imagine what their next date might be like. Dana and Benjamin had gone on a hot air balloon ride. Aimee was afraid of heights, but with Frank by her side, she might be able to handle it. And a bird’s-eye view of the city would be romantic.

  She realized Charlene had spoken, and she hadn’t heard what she said. “Sorry?”

  “Never mind.” Charlene smiled. “I can see you’ve got other things, or rather another person, on your mind, and I need to head to the office.”

  “On Sunday?”

  “You know what they say. The law never sleeps.”

  “Do they really say that?”

  “Around our office, they do.”

  Charlene insisted on paying the check for both of them, but after she left, Aimee had the vague impression that she’d somehow hurt her friend. She would make it up to her, plan another girls’ night soon. It couldn’t be good for Charlene to think about nothing but work. Maybe she should talk to Edwina, see if she could find another match, even though Charlene said she didn’t want one?

  Aimee’s phone chimed with a text as she was driving home. She fought the temptation to read it as she drove, and as soon as she pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, she checked her phone. The text read, “Timber Island Park, 8pm, Thursday.”

  Not exactly a wealth of information, and Thursday was four whole days away! Still, she’d manage somehow. She had plenty of things to do. She would spend her week focused on getting her apartment in order, clearing out any remaining trace of Tom’s presence, and drawing up a budget that wouldn’t bankrupt her.

  Despite her plans, the days dragged until she got off work Thursday. She’d looked up the park on the Web and discovered that it offered moonlight picnics, so she hurried home to shower and change into her favorite casual clothes. She packed a tote bag with a throw and a light jacket, just in case the evening turned cool. Thankfully, rush hour traffic had thinned to a moderate stream, and she made it to the park with time to spare.

  To her surprise, A Time for Love’s white van pulled up, with Whitney at the wheel. Frank opened the back door and hurried over to envelop Aimee in a bear hug.

  “You look great! I’ve missed you. Are you having a good week?” Frank said.

  “I’ll be back at eleven,” Edwina called from the passenger seat before Aimee could answer. She sounded like a mother dropping off her teenage son at a movie date, but when Frank draped an arm across her shoulder and began walking towards the park boathouse, Aimee forgot all about Edwina.

  “Have you ever been here before?” Frank asked.

  “No.”

  He looked pleased. “Then we’ll figure this out together. We should have a reservation for a paddleboat with a picnic dinner.”

  “Sounds great.” Almost anything would sound great with Frank, but Aimee didn’t tell him so.

  Frank joined the line of couples waiting to claim the dozen or so boats. He returned to Aimee with a number, and they found their designated paddleboat. Frank helped Aimee climb in and put on her lifejacket, and then he cast off the rope before joining her. The blue and white boat was designed to seat two, and the picnic basket was tucked in a small storage area behind the passenger seat.

  “Ready for launch? We’re heading for that island.” He pointed.

  They began pedaling. After a couple of circles where they almost hit the dock, Frank mastered the steering, and the boat moved smoothly towards the open water. The pink and gold rays of the setting sun illuminated the water, and Aimee could see a row of lights at the dock of the small island.

  “This is easy,” she said, as she and Frank pedaled at a leisurely pace.

  “Definitely beats a rowboat,” Frank agreed.

  When they reached a spot almost halfway to the island, Frank stopped pedaling, and Aimee did too. He reached behind her to retrieve the single red rose tucked into the picnic basket. “For you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Aimee inhaled the flower’s sweet scent. The slight rocking of the boat, the beautiful sky where stars had begun to appear, and the feel of Frank’s arm against hers, all combined for a perfect moment. Aimee couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be. She felt completely relaxed, and at the same time, a tingle of anticipation kept her heart beating a little faster than normal.

  They sat in silence. Another boat passed them, the young couple in it pedaling vigorously. Frank exchanged a wave with the man but didn’t change position or start pedaling again. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week,” he said softly.

  “Me too.”

  Frank stretched out his hand to clasp hers. He edged closer, and Aimee thought he was about to kiss her when suddenly her stomach growled. Her cheeks turned red.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I think that’s our cue to continue.”

  Frank pulled his hand away, and they began pedaling again. When they reached the dock, lit by low lamp posts near the water and a row of torches on the shore, Frank tied the boat to a pole and helped Aimee out. Then he grabbed the picnic basket, and they walked up the path that led to the interior of the small island. They passed a couple of picnic tables that were already occupied and checked the names on another one, before they found their table, sheltered under a stand of pine, with a view of the water. A brass and glass lantern hung on a metal pole beside the table. Frank moved aside the cardboard sign that read, “Frank and Aimee,” and set the basket on the table.

  The tables were far enough apart that Aimee felt as if she and Frank were completely alone. The trees screened them from view, and between the lap of the water and low music discreetly piped over a hidden audio system, Aimee couldn’t hear any voices or sound from the other couples.

  “Your dinner, my lady,” Frank said.

  He pulled out two bundles and several containers and set them on the wooden table. Aimee began opening them and discovered ham sandwich wraps, pasta salad, fresh fruit, and cheese pinwheels.

  “Mmm, it looks delicious.”

  Instead of sitting across from her, Frank slid onto the bench beside Aimee, so they could share the water view. Aimee spooned salad and fruit onto the two plates provided, while Frank set bottles of iced tea in front of them. They worked together smoothly, as if they eac
h knew what the other would do. As couples did. Aimee liked the thought and settled close to Frank as they ate and watched the moon rise over the lake.

  “I could do this every night,” she said dreamily. Frank looked at her skeptically. “Okay, once a month, at least.”

  “It is romantic,” Frank said.

  They sat quietly together until a breeze threatened to blow the wrappers and plates off the table. Frank grabbed them and stuffed them into plastic bags that had been provided with the basket. Once everything was safely stowed away, he said, “Ready to head back? We’re going to have dessert and coffee in the dining room overlooking the lake. Or we could walk around the island first?”

  “Let’s walk,” Aimee said. She was in no hurry to leave.

  Frank set the picnic basket on the table and reached for her hand. They wandered along the winding path that led deeper into the small copse of trees in the center of the island, away from the other picnic tables dotted along the shore. Only the moon lit the path, creating a dappled light and shadows that made Aimee feel almost as if they had entered another world.

  “We’re supposed to tell each other one of our dreams,” Frank said as they walked.

  “You first.”

  “An end to all wars. If men disagree and want to settle things with their fists, that’s their business. But don’t make other men fight your quarrels, and especially don’t drag innocent women and children into it.”

  “World peace?” Aimee smiled.

  “Exactly! But I think Edwina actually meant something a bit more personal. I’ve never been much of a traveler or wanted to live in a mansion. My real dream is just a family and home of my own, but for a more frivolous wish, I’d like a piano.”

  “You like playing piano?”

  “Yes. There’s one at the church, and I’ve borrowed it a few times when no one was around. I’m not very good, of course, since I haven’t had any lessons.”

  “My mother used to teach piano to make some extra money!” Aimee said. “I used to go in my room, put on headphones, and crank up my radio so I didn’t have to hear another attempt at ‘Für Elise!’”

  “You must play really well.”

  “I haven’t touched a piano in years. But I could teach you the basics,” she offered. When his face lit up, she added, “If we can find a place with a piano we can use.”

  “That would be great. What about you?”

  “I’ve always dreamed of opening a business,” she said. “When I was little, I wanted my own toy store, so I could have all the stuffed animals and My Little Pony toys I wanted. Later, I wanted a music store or a clothing boutique. Now I’d like to do something food-related, like Lucy’s snack shop.”

  “Why don’t you do it? You’re obviously talented at cooking.”

  “It’s not that easy. It takes a lot of start-up capital, for one thing. For another, I’ve never quite figured out what type of food I’d want to work with. I used to think a bakery, but I don’t like the idea of having to go in at the crack of dawn every morning to make bread. Plus, I don’t really want to go it alone.”

  The path had reached the other side of the island and led toward a picnic table where they could see the silhouette of a couple entwined in each other’s arms. By mutual agreement, Frank and Aimee turned back the way they’d come.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Frank said. “When the time is right.” He squeezed her arm, and Aimee edged closer to him.

  “Thanks.”

  Back at their table, Frank paused beside Aimee. The lantern was burning lower, a light breeze lifted her hair, and the stars twinkled at a discreet distance, providing a backdrop to a moment that filled Aimee with anticipation. What better place to share their first kiss?

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She leaned towards him.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He picked up the picnic basket and started down the path towards their paddleboat. Aimee waited. He wasn’t really leaving, was he? But when he didn’t turn around, she wrapped her arms around herself and followed him to the boat. Maybe the date wasn’t going as well as she’d thought.

  Chapter 10

  The return trip wasn’t nearly as easy as the trip to the island had been. Aimee’s legs started to ache from pedaling. She knew if she spoke up, Frank would offer to do all the pedaling, but she refused to let him know how uncomfortable she was becoming. By the time the boat bumped against the dock near the boathouse, Aimee’s legs were cramped, and when she tried to stand up, they wobbled beneath her. She avoided Frank’s outstretched hand and took a step towards the dock. Her leg buckled, and if Frank hadn’t grabbed her, she would have tumbled into the water.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  She knew it was childish to feel so hurt and rejected by the missed opportunity for a kiss, but she didn’t want to be logical. She just wanted the date to be over, so she could go home, wrap herself in a blanket, and wonder why she ever bothered with men.

  “Where are you going?”

  Aimee didn’t turn around. She was heading towards the parking lot, intent on getting in her car and ending the date as soon as possible.

  “We’re having coffee and dessert in the Waterview dining room.” Frank reminded her. He caught up to her and put a hand on her arm. “It’s this way.”

  Aimee stopped. Part of her preferred to stomp off to nurse her hurt feelings, but was she being childish? Frank did sound like he wanted to continue the date. Maybe she was reading too much into a single moment.

  “They’re serving mud pie,” Frank added.

  “Mud pie?”

  Professional curiosity persuaded her to let Frank lead her up the stairs to a glass-walled dining room overlooking the lake. Each of the dozen tables was set for two, with coffee cups, a candle in a crystal holder, and a single rose. Frank chose a vacant table near the window and held Aimee’s chair for her. Music played softly in the background, and the couples already seated were watching the water or talking quietly.

  One waiter poured their coffee, while another delivered their desserts. Aimee stuck her fork into the pie. The crumb crust was made of chocolate wafers, and the filling appeared to be a soft fudge. She dipped the bite in the fresh cream piped into an elegant swirl beside the pie slice and closed her eyes to savor the taste. She’d half-expected a coffee flavor, but nothing cut the sweetness of the rich, buttery chocolate and the lighter note of the whipped cream.

  When she opened her eyes, Frank was watching her.

  “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked.

  “That’s okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He took a forkful of his own pie. “Mmm. Delicious, but rich. I can see why the slices are so small.”

  “I could make this,” Aimee said, mostly to herself. “Or a better one.”

  Frank grinned at her. “A better one? That I’d like to taste! Consider yourself challenged.”

  Aimee blinked. She hadn’t meant to brag about her cooking ability. When she enjoyed a dish, she always thought about how she’d make it and whether she could improve upon it. She started to explain to Frank, but then she caught his playful expression and smiled back.

  “Challenge accepted,” she said. “I’ll bring it to our next date.”

  She tasted another bite. The pie had two layers, any difference in color not noticeable in the dim light. The bottom layer was denser, and the top layer was whipped, more of a mousse. Aimee took separate bites of the crust and each layer and began mentally writing out the recipe. Butter, eggs. Unsweetened chocolate. Cream. She might add a bit more vanilla, maybe reduce the sugar slightly…

  Frank finished his own pie and waited until she pushed her plate away. “What’s the expression?” he asked. “In the zone? You were in the food zone.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Aimee suddenly realized they were the only ones talking. Out loud, anyway. The other couples were snuggled together, admiri
ng the view, or whispering over their coffee. She turned her chair slightly so she could watch the water. The waiter refilled Frank’s coffee, but Aimee shook her head. She didn’t need caffeine.

  Her legs were still tired, but the good food and quiet atmosphere were relaxing. They sat without talking as Frank sipped his coffee. The couples began leaving, one by one, and finally Aimee stirred.

  “We’d better go, or I’ll be too sleepy to drive.”

  Frank took her arm to help her along the dimly lit path to the parking lot. Aimee half-expected Edwina to be waiting for them, but the parking lot was almost empty.

  “Do you need a ride?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “Back to A Time for Love, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks. I’ll text Edwina and let her know.”

  They listened to soft music as they wove through the city. When they reached A Time for Love, Aimee parked slightly beyond the security lights that illuminated the front of the building. She wasn’t trying to start anything, just giving him an opportunity if he wanted one, she told herself.

  Frank unbuckled his seat belt and twisted so he could face her. “Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time.”

  “Me too.”

  “I can hardly wait for our next date. And that chocolate pie,” he added.

  “It’ll be worth the wait,” Aimee promised. Her voice sounded breathless. Was he leaning towards her? She could smell the fresh scent of his shaving gel, and she held herself still, waiting to see what he would do.

  He bent forward. She closed her eyes and lifted her face, and his lips brushed her cheek. “Good night, Aimee. See you soon.”

  Then he was getting out of the car, and Aimee could see Edwina at the entranceway to the building, like an over-anxious mother waiting for her teenage daughter to come home from her first date. Did the woman do this for all her clients, or was Frank special? And what would Frank have done if Edwina wasn’t watching?

  She’d have to wait until the next date to find out, but the unanswered question left her feeling unsettled as she drove home.