Ready for Marriage

That affection was returned. Mary Jo adored her older brothers, but she knew them and their quirks and foibles well. Living with five boys—all very different personalities—had given her plenty of practice in deciphering the male psyche. Evan might have come from a rich, upper-crust family, but he was a man, and she’d been able to read him like a book from the first. She believed that her ability to see through his playboy facade was what had originally attracted her to him. That attraction had grown and blossomed until…

“Come by for Sunday dinner. We eat about three, and we’d enjoy getting to know you better,” her mother was saying. “It’d be an honor to have you at our table.”

The words cut into Mary Jo’s thoughts like a scythe through wheat. “I’m sure Evan’s too busy for that, Mother,” she blurted out.

“I appreciate the invitation,” Evan said, ignoring Mary Jo.

“You’re welcome to stop off at the house any time you like, young man,” her father added, sending his daughter a glare of disapproval.

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind,” Evan said absently as he returned his attention to the investment papers. “If you don’t object, I’d like an attorney friend of mine to read this over. I should have an answer for you in the next week or so.”

Her father nodded. “You do whatever you think is necessary. And don’t you worry about your fee.”

“Dad, I already told you! I’ve talked to Evan about that. This is my gift to you.”

“Nonsense,” her father argued, scowling. “I was the one who was fool enough to trust this shyster. If anyone pays Evan’s fee, it’ll be me.”

“We don’t need to worry about that right now,” Evan interjected smoothly. “We’ll work out the details of my bill later.”

“That sounds fair to me.” Norman Summerhill was quick to agree, obviously eager to put the subject behind him. Her father had carried his own weight all his life and wouldn’t take kindly to Mary Jo’s accepting responsibility for this debt. She hoped she could find a means of doing so without damaging his formidable pride.

“Thank you for your time,” she said to Evan, desperate to be on her way.

“It was good to see you again, young man,” Norman said expansively, shaking hands with Evan. “No need to make yourself scarce. You’re welcome for dinner any Sunday of the year.”

“Daddy, please,” Mary Jo groaned under her breath. The last thing she wanted was to have Evan show up for Sunday dinner with her five brothers and their assorted families. He wasn’t accustomed to all the noise and chatter that invariably went on during meals. Her one dinner with his family had sufficiently pointed out the glaring differences between their upbringings.

“Before you leave,” Evan said to Mary Jo, “my brother asked me to give you this. I believe it’s from Jessica.” He handed her a sealed envelope.

“Thank you,” Mary Jo mumbled. For the better part of their meeting, he’d avoiding speaking to her. He hadn’t been rude or tactless, just businesslike and distant. At least toward her. With her parents, he’d been warm and gracious. She doubted they’d even recognized the subtle difference between how he treated them and how he treated her.

MARY JO DIDN’T OPEN the envelope until after she’d arrived back at her cozy duplex apartment. She stared at it several moments, wondering what Jessica Dryden could possibly have to say to her.

No need to guess, she decided, and tore open the envelope.

Dear Mary Jo,

I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed meeting you. When I asked Evan why you were in to see him, he clammed right up. I should have known better—prying information out of Evan is even more difficult than it is with Damian.

From your reaction the other day, I could tell you assumed I was married to Evan. Damian and I got quite a chuckle out of that. You see, just about everyone tried to match me up with Evan, but I only had eyes for Damian. If you’re free some afternoon, give me a call. Perhaps we could have lunch.

Warmest regards,

Jessica

Jessica had written her telephone number beneath her signature.

Mary Jo couldn’t understand why Damian’s wife would seek her out. They were virtual strangers. Perhaps Jessica knew something Mary Jo didn’t—something about Evan. The only way to find out was to call.

Although Mary Jo wasn’t entirely sure she was doing the right thing, she reached for the phone.

Jessica Dryden answered almost immediately.

“Mary Jo! Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you,” she said immediately. “I wondered what you’d think about my note. I don’t usually do that sort of thing, but I was just so delighted you’d been to see Evan.”

“You said he’s mentioned me?”

“A number of times. Look, why don’t you come over one afternoon soon and we can talk? You’re not teaching right now, are you?”

“School let out a week ago,” Mary Jo concurred.

“That’s what I thought. Could you stop by next week? I’d really enjoy talking to you.”

Mary Jo hesitated. Her first introduction to Evan’s family had been a catastrophe, and she’d come away knowing their love didn’t stand a chance. A second sortie might prove equally disastrous.

“I’d like that very much,” Mary Jo found herself saying. If Evan had been talking about her, she wanted to know what he’d said.

“Great. How about next Tuesday afternoon? Come for lunch and we can sit on the patio and have a nice long chat.”

“That sounds great,” Mary Jo said.

It wasn’t until later that evening, when she was filling a croissant with a curried shrimp mixture for dinner, that Mary Jo stopped to wonder exactly why Jessica was so eager to “chat” with her.

SHE LIKED GARY . She really did. Though why she felt it was necessary to remind herself of this, she didn’t know. She didn’t even want to know.

It had been like this from the moment she’d broken off her relationship with Evan. She’d found fault with every man she’d dated. No matter how attractive he was. Or how successful. How witty, how considerate…it didn’t matter.

Gary was very nice, she repeated to herself.

Unfortunately he bored her to tears. He talked about his golf game, his bowling score and his prowess on the handball court. Never anything that was important to her. But his biggest fault, she’d realized early on in their relationship was that he wasn’t Evan.

They’d dated infrequently since the beginning of the year. To be honest, Mary Jo was beginning to think that, to Gary, her biggest attraction was her mother’s cooking. Invariably, Gary stopped by early Sunday afternoon, just as she was about to leave for her parents’ home. It’d happened three out of the past five weeks. She strongly suspected he’d been on duty at the fire hall the two weeks he’d missed.

“You look especially lovely this afternoon,” he said when she opened her front door to him now. He held out a bouquet of pink carnations, which she took with a smile, pleased by his thoughtfulness.

“Hello, Gary.”

He kissed her cheek, but it seemed perfunctory, as if he felt some display of affection was expected of him. “How’ve you been?” he muttered, easing himself into the old rocking chair next to the fireplace.

Although Mary Jo’s rooms were small, she’d thoughtfully and carefully decorated each one. The living room had an Early American look. Her brother Lonny, who did beautiful woodwork, had carved her an eagle for Christmas, which she’d hung above the fireplace. In addition to her rocking chair, she had a small sofa and an old oak chest that she’d restored herself. Her mother had crocheted an afghan for the back of the sofa in a patriotic blend of red, white and blue.

Her kitchen was little more than a wide hallway that led to a compact dining space in a window alcove. Mary Jo loved to sit there in the morning sunshine with a cup of coffee and a book.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Gary said, looking around as if seeing the room for the first time.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, first off, you don’t have to work in the summer.”