“I wish you had let me read the ad before you sent it to the newspaper. I could have written something sure to land the right man. Something like the Pina Colada song. ‘If you like walking in the moonlight along a deserted beach or running barefoot through wet grass, meet me at the edge of the fishing pier at dusk on Friday. I’ll be the one wearing a smile and nothing else.’ Now, there’s an advertisement with a hook, if you ask me.” Genie sighed. “I could have written one to inspire the poets.”
“I’m not here to inspire the poets,” Rachel grumbled. “I’m here to find a sperm donor.”
Ignoring Genie’s dreamy mood, Rachel pulled out her day planner to double-check the time and order of her interviews. Snapping it shut, she adjusted the vase containing a single red carnation in the middle of the table. Determinedly, she tamped down the butterflies in her stomach. “Bachelor number one should be here any minute, if he’s punctual. You’d better take your place.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Genie asked. “This seems kind of cold.”
“Genie, we’re not rehashing that again. I’m sure. I’ve scheduled this to cause the least amount of disruption to my work. I want to treat this like any other business transaction so I can maintain a distance from the man I choose for the job. It will be easier to make a clean break with no emotional attachments, and most importantly, no likelihood of pursuit.”
“I still think you ought to do it the old-fashioned way—fall in love, get married, make babies. You know, the whole happily-ever-after thing.” Genie’s head tipped to the side, and she sighed.
“Oh, Genie. You’re a hopeless romantic. We’ve been over this before. I don’t need a husband. In my hectic life, I only have time enough for one child, not two. And I prefer an infant to a grown baby.”
“Have it your way, Rache. I’ll be in the next booth, eavesdropping like crazy. Remember, if you feel like you’re in trouble, just say the secret code. You do remember the code, don’t you?”
“I remember, it’s ‘when pigs fly.’”
“That’s it. Break a leg, honey.”
Genie took her position in the booth behind Rachel and motioned for the waitress. Sitting alone, Rachel finished her Vodka Collins with a long gulp and watched the door from the corner of her eye.
Suddenly, she was very nervous. Why? She didn’t understand. She’d been involved in much more stressful situations at work. Having hired her entire staff, she was confident with her interviewing skills. But these candidates had her wiping her palms on the worsted wool of her navy skirt and jacket, and dabbing at the perspiration gathering on her upper lip.
I can’t do this. Having second thoughts, Rachel rose halfway out of her seat, and prepared to bolt. Just then, a thin man in a neatly pressed suit, wearing round wire-rimmed glasses, walked over to her. “Are you Ms. Taylor?”
Rachel nodded automatically.
“I couldn’t help noticing the red carnation. I must be in the right place,” the man continued. “I’m Dr. Milton Peebles. I believe we have an appointment?”
Since she was already halfway out of her seat, she rose the rest of the way, and discovered she was two or three inches taller than Dr. Peebles. She was mildly dismayed, since she was only average height herself.
The doctor blinked, owl-like.
Feeling gawky and awkward, she stuck out her hand and grasped his in a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Peebles. Won’t you sit down? Would you like a drink?”
She spotted the girl who’d served her a drink earlier and called out, “Waitress.” Her nervousness made her voice shrill, and she cleared her throat, heat rising up her throat into her cheeks. Rachel decided to remain silent and regain her poise while the waitress took the doctor’s order and replaced her own drink.
“Did you have a hard time finding the place, Dr. Peebles?”
“No, your directions were fine, and please call me Milton. All my friends do.” Milton’s voice was rather monotone, each syllable spoken quietly and precisely.
“Oh, okay...Milton.”
“I found the place just fine. I drove around yesterday just to locate it before today.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Oh, it was nothing. I just like to be punctual. I bothers me when people are late, especially to appointments.”
Rachel took another fortifying swig of her drink. “What kind of doctor are you...Milton?”
“I’m a gynecologist.”
Rachel choked, and her Vodka Collins nearly exited her nostrils before she could gain control of herself once more. Milton reached across the table to pat her back comfortingly. Rachel resisted the urge to cringe. Who knew where his hands had been that day?
The waitress appeared at his side with a glass of white wine and set it in front of him. Rachel used the lull to study the man as he thanked the waitress and took a tentative sip from his glass.
He wasn’t an attractive man. Small beady eyes blinked nervously, magnified by thick, round wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his long narrow nose. His hair was mousy brown, sparse, and unnaturally curly. The moist and clammy hand she’d held briefly was soft, narrow and small-boned with neatly manicured nails.
Rachel stared at the bottle-thick lenses and let herself imagine what an intimate encounter with the mousy doctor might be like.
She saw herself, standing in the door of an institutional-green office with an old Naugahyde-covered examining table as its only furnishing. The doctor stood next to the table wearing only his white coat, skinny legs and knobby knees showing from below the hem. Reaching underneath the table, he drew chrome stirrups up and pulled the white paper protector toward him, reeling it to the bottom of the table, nearer to the edge where he stood...
“Have we been drinking just a little too much?” Milton inquired, with a little smile on his thin lips. Rachel shuddered, then jerked back to reality. She made her decision in a moment.
Rising to her feet, Rachel waited for Milton to stand, and then she stuck her hand out to shake his.
“Dr. Peebles, I want to thank you for meeting me here. I’m glad we had the opportunity to get to know each other, but I have another engagement and must be going. I’ll call you when I’ve made my decision. Again, thanks for coming.”
Rachel turned to walk quickly toward the ladies’ restroom, leaving Dr. Peebles looking a little befuddled by the abruptness of the end of the interview.
She peeked at him from behind the door of the ladies’ room. As soon as he left the bar, Rachel came back to her table and sat sideways in her booth to talk with Genie.
“That was short. Well, what did you think?” Genie asked.
Rachel shuddered visibly. “I’m sure he’s a very nice man, but I’m not letting him come near me.”
“I have to agree; he was kind of dweeby.”
“Well, let’s hope bachelor number two is an improvement.”
Genie raised her glass in a mock toast and quickly returned to her table as a man stepped through the entry. He paused to look at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Then, gazing around the room, he spotted the carnation in the bud vase on Rachel’s table and walked in a beeline toward her.
He wasn’t a bad looking man. Rachel took a deep breath and unbuttoned the top button of her jacket, awaiting his approach. He stood just short of six foot tall and had dark eyes and dark hair, slicked back neatly. His black silk shirt had three buttons opened from the collar, displaying a thick gold medallion nestled in the curly black hair on his chest. Nodding and speaking to everyone he passed, he finally made it to her table.