Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster
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man Barbara Johnson said was her supervisor and whom she hadn’t yet met. “Ms. Cunningham, could we meet in my office at ten this morning. Thank you, L. Riddick.” She reread the note. At least he said thank you. Since he didn’t say what they would discuss, she couldn’t prepare, so she began drafting a questionnaire designed to obtain essential information from her clients—questions that would help her determine the best way in which to help them. Tyra walked into Lyle Riddick’s office at exactly ten and stopped short. Was she in a bird sanctuary?
“Come in. Come in, Ms. Cunningham. I surround myself with my favorite things…to the extent that I can. And birds and squirrels are among my delights. My yard is full of squirrels, by the way.” He stood and shook hands with her. “I’ve been away at a conference. Delighted to meet you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Riddick. I hope the conference was worthwhile.”
“Indeed it was. Are you satisfied with your assignment so far?”
She leaned back in the chair, assessing the man as best she could.
“Thank you for asking,” she said. “I haven’t had anything to do really. I’m sorry for being so blunt, but you asked, and I always try to tell the truth.”
“Honesty is a good thing. I have a case for you. The boy’s name is Jonathan Hathaway. He’s a great kid, but he’s got some family problems. If you have extra time after dealing with this problem, I’d like you to counsel Erica Saunders. After twenty-five years of marriage during which she never held a job and lived off her husband’s earnings, she got bored, had an extra-marital affair. She feels she’s being mistreated because her husband is divorcing her and refuses to pay alimony. She’s depressed, almost suicidal and thinks the whole world is against her. I thought you might be able to help her.”
She stared at him. “I hope you don’t think I’d sympathize with her.”
“I think we’ll work well together, Tyra,” he said with a hearty laugh. “And please call me Lyle. We have a couple of young turks here, but I see that you’re able to keep them in line.”
“Yes. I’ve met both of them, and I don’t anticipate a problem.”
“Good, Ron Parker took a turn with the Saunders case, but I decided he wasn’t the person to deal with it. Stop by his office and get the file. If you have any problems, I’m right here.”
She thanked him and left. A knock on Parker’s office door brought a response that was more akin to a growl than a greeting. He stood when she walked in.
“Well. Well. Things are looking up around here. I hope you’re the secretary I ordered. Hmm.”
Another one of those. “Mr. Parker, I’m Tyra Cunningham, and I’ve been assigned Erica Saunders’s case. Lyle said you have her file. May I have it?”
“Walked right into that one. No hard feelings, I hope. I didn’t know we were hiring women.” He searched through a stack of folders on his desk and handed her one of them.
“Thanks. I’m sure that’s not all you don’t know.” She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Another lesson learned. If she’d met him at a party and he’d asked her for a date, she would probably have gone out with him, though she doubted she’d have done it a second time. She wouldn’t say that Ron Parker was a problem. Nor did she expect him to be one, but he was obviously accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he seemed to want what didn’t come easily. Or so it seemed. On the way back to her office, she stopped to get coffee.
“Can we have lunch today?” Matt Cowan asked her when she bumped into him in the coffee room.
“I have to prepare for a new client this afternoon, so it’s probably not a good time.”
He dropped three packets of sugar into his coffee and stirred, all the while gazing intently at her. “You have to eat, don’t you? Why not have dinner with me.”
She smiled, because she didn’t want him for an enemy. But she couldn’t imagine why anyone would care about a having lunch with someone who didn’t matter. “All right, but I’m planning to read while I eat.”
He put the coffee cup down and put both hands in his pants pockets so that his suit jacket hung at his sides and back. To her mind, exasperation was the only word that could describe him.
“Are you brushing me off?”
She didn’t try to control the smirk that formed around her lips. “Would anybody dare to do that?”
Matt ran his fingers through his silky curls, a testament to his Native American heritage.
She looked at her watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. Meet you in the lunch room at twelve thirty.”
“I’d almost given up hope.”
“Well, you’re nicer than I thought you’d be,” said Tyra.
“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”
“No, but your brusque manner doesn’t impress me. Fuller and Parker impress me to the extent that I don’t like their company.”
“But I’m just another guy, eh?”
“I didn’t say that, and don’t put words in my mouth. See you at twelve-thirty. I have to work.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She went back to her office and closed the door. What would Byron think about that? It was just lunch, but it was still a date. She told herself to tread carefully, and not risk ruining her relationship with Byron just to prove that she could find her own man.
She headed to the cafeteria to meet Matt for lunch and, to her surprise, he was already there waiting for her. She had assumed that he would be late. Once they had gotten their food, she decided to initiate the conversation. “How old are you?” she asked him.
“Thirty-five.”
“Are you married?”
He didn’t seem a bit taken aback, considering her question. “I am. But I’m at a different state in my life. I want stability and a family. Right now, I don’t have either.”
“Is it you or her?”
“It’s a combination of things, and it’s too bad. What about you?”
“I’m sorry. As for me, I’ve never married or even come close to it. But I met someone recently who seems interesting.”
“He’s a lucky guy.”
She was surprised that he was so open about such personal matters. But she realized that he was vulnerable and seemingly very unhappy.
“Are you separated now, Matt?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but it suits me. The longer it lasts, the more I learn about myself and the happier I am.”
She sipped sweetened ice tea as she waited for Matt to finish his apple pie. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t, because she knew he would see the pity in her eyes.
As they left the lunch room, she asked him, “Do you think you and your wife could make a go of it if she worked harder to understand your needs?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Neither is what the other needs.”
“Thanks for your company, Matt.”
“I thank you. Just talking about it has strengthened my resolve to put my life in order. You’re a good listener, and I’ll bet you’re a good counselor.”
“See you later.”
She sat down at her desk, leaned back and exhaled. She understood the wisdom of letting Byron know her feelings, and that meant letting him know her dreams and aspirations. She cared for him, and she wanted him.
At two-thirty, a tall, handsome and well-dressed teenager walked into Tyra’s office and extended