Gillian's Do-Over (17 page)

She nodded.

Lauren was right. The best men were always taken.

Chapter 11

“Get away!” Gillian knocked on the window at the blue jay hogging the bird feeder. The smaller birds had scattered like fluff into the branches of the two large trees shading the back yard, their twittering ineffective in convincing the jay to move on.

The ping of her computer
alerted her to a new email. Bianca, maybe? She still hadn’t returned Gillian’s call about her role in the wedding. Nothing from Bianca or her mother.
Maybe I’ll have to email Bianca again or ask Quinn to remind her.

N
umerous messages marched down the computer screen. “Goodness! Twenty-one of them.” She frowned at the ones that had to be spam, deleted them and clicked on a message from Niftyatfifty.

Dear Fab:

I hope you are enjoying these beautiful summer days. I’m going to the Seattle Center on Saturday to check out that new glass museum. I know we haven’t chatted that much online, or even by phone, but if you would like to join me, I’d be a happy man. To set your mind at ease, if you take one look at me and decide you don’t want to meet, all you have to do is turn around and walk away. I’ll be wearing a red vest and carrying a white rose. For you because you said you love roses. Didn’t you say you grow them in your yard?

I’ve only seen your picture
online, so it’s likely I might not recognize you from a distance. In fact, my eye doctor says I should wear my glasses more than just for reading these days. Ha! I guess I’m fast approaching the blind-as-a-bat stage of middle age.

Anyway, I’ll be in front of the museum at one o’clock. Perhaps after checking out the museum, assuming you want to, we could have a cup of coffee together and talk. Just talk.
Keeping my fingers crossed that you want to take a chance on me.

Nifty

Gillian laughed out loud.
Oh, my goodness!
Days after dinner with Mo, another man was asking to meet her. She picked up the phone.

“Lauren, you’re never going to believe this!
Why didn’t this happen when Quinn was younger, when I could have really used a man around the house?”

“What? Tell me. Quick. I’m almost out the door. Doctor’s appointment.”

“Nifty wants to meet me at the new glass museum at Seattle Center.”

“Wonderful! I’ll come over when I get home. See
ya.”

Gillian poised
her fingers over her keyboard as she scanned the other messages. She deleted three more spam messages.

“Oh, good.”
Bianca had sent her several pictures of wedding dresses, asking for Gillian’s opinion on each. After checking the one she thought looked best, Gillian went back to the other emails.
More spam. How
do
these businesses get my address? As if I
needed
Viagra.
Four new winks from men whose messages didn’t interest her in the slightest. She hit the delete button several times.

Another ping,
this time from Homebody.

Dear Fab:

I haven’t heard from you in a while, but that’s probably my fault. I was out of town. In case you’re wondering, I took my boat and explored a couple of the San Juan Islands. Didn’t you say you liked boats? Perhaps you’d like to take a small jaunt with me? I berth my boat on Lake Union. We could head out through the Chittenden Locks and into the Sound and enjoy the good weather next weekend if you’re game.

You haven’t
met me on dry land yet, so here’s a thought. If you’re interested, why don’t you call me? I’ve added my phone number at the bottom of this message. You’re the first woman I’ve wanted to give such an invitation—to sit on the boat, that is—since my divorce. I showed your picture to my daughter and she said you look like a nice person. So … will you call me? If I don’t hear from you by Friday, I’ll figure you aren’t interested.

Ever hopeful, Homebody

Gillian hummed to herself.
Wait till Lauren hears about this!
Two different men wanted to meet her. She shrugged her shoulders.
What the heck?
Hadn’t Quinn and Lauren encouraged her to get out of the house more, meet new people? Seeing these men could be part of her life do-over. Her wedding responsibilities were minimal and she’d already contacted the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. The manager was saving the special room for their gathering. All she needed now was a final count from Bianca so she could establish who would sit where.

Gillian
picked up the phone and dialed the number Homebody had added to his email. The voice that answered reminded her of newly-melted caramel. Warm, soothing, kind of sweet.

“Um, hello? Is this Homebody?” She hoped she didn’t sound like a squeaky hinge in need of grease.

“What? Oh! Yes. Homebody. My email handle.” The man chuckled. “Who is this?”

“
Fabatforty.” She gulped. “I hope I didn’t surprise you.” She pressed a pencil onto the scratch paper she kept near her phone. “I just read your email. About your boat.”

“Oh. Yes.”

He seemed hesitant. Maybe she shouldn’t have called. She drew a circle on the page and then a line through it.

“
You surprised me. For some reason, I didn’t really expect you to call. Not so soon anyway.” His cough sounded like he’d turned away from the phone. “Would you like to take a ride on my boat?”

She began to shade in the circle. “
It sounds like fun.” She hoped she sounded confident, maybe even eager.

“Wonderful!
Let me give you my berth number. I’m going to toss off the lines around two on Sunday. After church. If you want to meet me there—at the berth—we’ll shove off then.”

“How long do you think we’ll be gone?” Gillian re
called Quinn’s cautions to let him know where she was going if he hadn’t checked out the man in advance. But he’d only mentioned doing that when she’d first signed up on the dating site.

“Not more than three hours. We’ll turn back sooner if the water gets rough.”

“Sounds good. I should wear rubber-soled shoes, right?” What else did one wear for a date on a boat?

“
Yes, and regular clothes. If it’s warm, you might be comfortable in shorts and a light top. I have life jackets. Required equipment, you know. But bring a sweater and long pants in case the wind picks up."

“O
f course. I’ll meet you at your berth. Two o’clock. Sunday.” She placed a giant check-mark in the upper left corner of the scratch paper.

“Uh. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“My name is Wade. My real one. Mind if I ask what’s yours?”

She cleared her throat, gone dry while he’d been talking about what she should wear. Wade.
A nice name for a nice man.
“I’m Gillian.”

“Gillian.” The way he said it made her blush. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

She pulled up her calendar and marked Sunday at two. She scanned the other emails, deleted more spam and three others from the dating website. That left Nifty’s message. What was she going to do about that?

Dear Nifty:

Thank you for the invitation. I’ve never been to the glass museum, but I would love to see it. I’ll look for you on Saturday as soon as I find a decent parking place. Sometimes they’re hard to find near the Center. I’ll look for you—red vest with white rose in hand—when I arrive.

Gill
—oops.She almost wrote her real name
.
She deleted those letters and signed her online name.

Looking forward to it.

Fab.

Her calendar w
as filling up with dates—such a change from when she’d been younger and had never dated two men in the same week, much less three in two weeks.

Her wedding chores were put to bed
for the time being. Still nothing from Bianca’s mother. She shrugged.
No sense obsessing over what I can’t fix.

The door knocker on the back
door sounded, followed by a loud, “Yoo hoo? Gilly? You home?”

“Come on in
, Lauren.” Gillian giggled. “You’re never going to believe what I just did.”

That evening, Quinn’s too-loud voice rang in Gillian’s ears. “What do you mean, you’re meeting a man at the glass museum? One of those online guys?”

Gillian pulled the phone away from her ear.
Oh, dear.
If that was how he was going to react, no way was she going to mention any more dates.

Lauren had said to get out of her comfort zone. Wasn’t that what she was doing with
these two men? And Mo? Dear Mo, whose kisses after the second dinner had become increasingly passionate. Her gut told her what he was angling for.

Quinn’s voice
assumed a more normal volume. “Mom. You still there?”

“
Sorry. You were saying? Oh. About them. Those online guys.” She gave herself a mental shake. “You said I should get to know new people. Isn’t that why you were happy when I went on that dating website?”

“
I wasn’t thinking you’d actually go
out
with them, at least not right away. And now you mention more than one? What about a background check on those guys? Did you at least Google them?”

Her stomach changed places with her heart.
Oh gosh.
“I just realized I don’t even know his real name. You know, Nifty. I think I mentioned him before. I guess I forgot to ask.” She paused then blurted, “But I know Homebody’s name. He invited me for a ride on his boat on Sunday.”

“Mom, since when do you go out with strange men?
What’s happened to you?”

She laughed. “
They’re not strange.”
At least I hope not.
“Stop worrying. If I don’t like what I see at the museum, I won’t introduce myself. I’ll just turn around and leave.”

“How are you going to recognize him? Those pictures can be faked, you know.”

“Now you tell me!” She huffed. “But Nifty told me what he’ll be wearing and what he’ll be carrying.” She chuckled. “We’ve chatted online—several times—about my garden. He remembered that I grow roses. Wasn’t that sweet?” Why was she feeling defensive?

“This guy with the boat
,” Quinn persisted. “What’s
his
name? Let me check him out.”

“
You
mentioned him first, honey. Homebody. His real name is Wade, and his boat is at Berth number ten, on Lake Union.”

“What’s his last name?”

“Good question. We only exchanged first names. Quinn, I—”

His voice rose again.
“Mom! You’re going about this all wrong. I thought you were going to talk to these guys on the phone before meeting them. I don’t think you should go on his boat. Who else is going to be there? What if he tries something? What if he tosses you overboard if you … you know, don’t put out?”

She could imagine Quinn, his brow furrowed, maybe even pacing.

“
Good grief, Quinn. I have no intention of doing
that
.”

He continued. “
You don’t even
like
the water. Remember how nervous you were about the rafting trip? And what happened with old Herb?”

Gillian pressed her lips together. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
You
were the one who said I should meet new people and step out of my comfort zone. If you don’t trust me, I suppose you could come along, but how do you think that makes me feel—that I have to be chaperoned by my own son? That you think Homebody is some masher or ax murderer or something …” Maybe she
was
taking her life in her hands. But neither Nifty nor Homebody had
sounded
dangerous in their emails. They’d just seemed nice. And they were interested in getting to know her.

Prolonged
silence followed her words. Gillian took advantage to blow her nose. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, honey, but I don’t like it when you get on your high horse. How about we compromise? Wade said we’d go through the locks. Maybe you could take Bianca down there and stand on the side. You know, look for his boat as we go through. If I’m not comfortable, I’ll wave at you and you can alert the men who tell the boats where to tie up, or call the Coast Guard or something. They could throw me a line and haul me up.”

Quinn
snorted. “I don’t think they do that sort of thing.” He was silent for a long minute. “I’ll talk to you later. But promise me you won’t set up any more dates until I come over. We need to talk about this.”

“What if Mo calls again?
Asks me out to a movie or another dinner?” She teased. Quinn knew all about Mo and seemed to approve of the big doctor. Their dinners
had
been nice. He’d been a perfect gentleman, even when he’d brought her home. Just a chaste little peck on the cheek after he’d squeezed her hand that first time. Disappointment that he hadn’t tried to kiss her on the mouth had flitted through her mind as they stood on the porch. Thinking back on it, she’d also been relieved when he aimed only for her cheek.