The Marrying Kind. Judy Christenberry
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two of you for dinner. If she won’t come, find another date.”
“Right.” As if anyone would be interchangeable with Diane. He didn’t think so. She was unique.
And somehow that scared John to death.
DIANE FOUND HERSELF in front of her closet again. It really was time to go shopping, for something other than black or gray suits. Luckily she found a casual plum-colored dress in the back.
She hurriedly redid her makeup and wished she’d agreed to go out on Saturday instead Friday, after an entire day at work. But she hadn’t thought about that in time. She’d been too swept away when he’d asked her out.
She hadn’t intended to accept, of course, but he’d sounded so desperate. That amazed her. No one had ever been desperate to date her. She’d had a steady relationship in college, with a guy who assumed she’d marry him…until he’d fallen in love with another woman.
Diane had been hurt at first, until she realized she really didn’t miss him. She just missed having someone. So she kept to herself and finished out the semester. Then she’d gotten a summer job in a bank and found her future. She liked the decorum of a bank, the security. Even changing her studies to fit a career in banking, she had finished her degree early and gotten hired by Guaranty National right after graduation.
She was satisfied with her existence. She didn’t have much of a social life, but she’d learned to live without others since she was very young. Diane didn’t intend to marry just to have someone around.
But she intended to enjoy the evening, since she’d given in to John’s invitation. It wasn’t something she’d ever make a habit of, but for tonight, she’d make the best of it.
Diane was just spraying perfume behind her ears when she heard a car out front. She leaned over to look out the window and saw John getting out of his Mercedes, early as usual. She picked up her purse and keys and waited until he knocked on the door.
When he did, joy flooded her, unexpected joy. She didn’t think this silly date would mean that much to her. Obviously she needed to get out more often.
She swung open the door, a smile on her lips. But it wasn’t John at the door. It was one of her neighbors, a flight attendant who shared the apartment with five of her colleagues.
“Oh, hi, Betsy. How are you?”
“I’m fine, but I was wondering if you could keep an eye out for a package for me. I’m going out tonight and I figured you’d be here.” She smiled, as if she hadn’t said anything hurtful.
“I’m sorry, Betsy, but I’m going out, too.”
“You are? You don’t usually—” The woman broke off to stare at the handsome man climbing the stairs. “Damn! Which one of my roommates has a date with him?”
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