A Heart of Gold

Chapter 12

Wooden hangers click against each other as I flick through each one that sways, waiting, in my closet.  I have no business spending my money on "what if" dresses, ones that are 'just the thing' for events that I will never attend, but I just can't resist.  I can remember the dressing room conversations I've had with myself over each one, justifying each purchase with a different fantasy.  Ooh, this one would be great for a glitzy night on the town, this one is darling for a sophisticated outdoor wedding, and maybe this one for some sort of posh after party. 

But this one- this one is perfect for a romantic dinner on the beach with my handsome boyfriend.  At sunset.

It is light and beachy and slips easily over my smooth skin.  I've been rolling Harry's questions around in my mind.  His questions of why I have such a hard time letting go of work, letting myself enjoy my life are like an annoying grain of sand in my eye- vague and irritating but always there, yet almost impossible to find and flush out.  So as a small start, I spent some selfish time soaking in a bubbly tub to relax and, after drying off, finally opened the luxurious scented lotion my mom sent for my birthday to pamper my skin.

The strapless dress falls to my ankles, a pair of barely-there flat sandals underneath.  I chose a delicate necklace, one with a tiny turquoise stone that dangles from a thin silver chain and lays in the hollow of my throat, and slide my three favorite silver bracelets over my wrist.  One last glance in the mirror shows me that my hair has lightened and my skin has tanned from my trip with the kids to the park.

Harry and I settled on a good, old fashioned dinner date, and it feels so right.  I am both nervous and excited to be out with him. He made all the arrangements, assuring me that he had taken care to minimize any attention he might bring as best he could.  He also asked me if he could bring a driver for us.  So that we could both enjoy a drink, he explained stoically, but then added that he could also have his hands free in the car, with a wink.

I hear the car pull into my driveway, but wait for him to come to the door. 

I watch from the window as he gets out of the car.  With a quick duck of his head he steps out onto the pavement, looking runway ready.

No black skinny jeans and boots.  Instead, loose linen trousers in the palest of yellows. The high waist makes his long legs look impossibly longer.  Sockless feet in loafers and a blue striped shirt that reminds me of a beach umbrella. He's been in the sun as well, lounging probably.  The bridge of his nose, tops of his cheeks and all of the chest I can see are a delicious bronzy pink.

I know his mannerisms as if he's an old friend. I can anticipate his movements before he makes them.  I watch as he bends his head and ruffles his fingers through his wavy hair.  When he straightens, I know that he will sweep his curls back and over to the right and then his fingers will fall to his perfect lips, his mouth stretching open, as his thumb and index finger circle the outside. I huff out a smug laugh when he does exactly that.

I can see he has brought me another bunch of white daisies, their stems long in his hands and their heads droopy from the heat. Of course he'd bring flowers, again, because he remembers the single time I mentioned in passing that I liked them.

He bends into the driver's window and says something to the man inside. The driver nods, Harry nods back with a sheepish smile and they give each other a thumbs up.

I want to squeal and fling the door open, but I let him to approach.  He knocks. Trying to still myself with deep breaths,  I wait.  ...four, five... six.

I open the door.

He claps his hand over his heart when he sees me, widens his eyes and yelps, "Ow!"