A Wedding Worth Waiting For

‘Then we’ll go, shall we?’

It did not require an answer, and Karrie thrilled to his touch as he placed a hand under her elbow and they went over to his car.

‘Busy?’ she enquired as they drove along, feeling suddenly tongue-tied.

He took his attention off his driving for a brief moment so he could look at her. ‘Doing my stint,’ he agreed pleasantly. ‘How about you?’

‘I manage to keep occupied,’ she murmured of her extremely active section. But she didn’t want to talk about her; she wanted to know more about Farne. ‘I don’t suppose you’re at board meetings every day?’ she enquired.

‘You suppose correctly,’ he answered. ‘Though, prior to my attending a meeting in Milan on Friday, there’s a board meeting tomorrow.’

He was going to Italy! Karrie pushed panic down. She’d never used to be like this. Until she had fallen in love she’d have said she didn’t have a panicky bone in her body. Yet here she was fretting that because he was off to Italy—giving no mention of when he was coming back—it could be an age before she saw him again! Not, of course, that she had any guarantee that he would want to see her again after tonight.

Somehow or other she managed to keep up a light conversation with him until they reached the restaurant where they were to dine.

It was another splendid establishment, the menu looking most appetising. Although by then Karrie was so in love with Farne she would have been equally happy to eat eggs on toast in the humblest of eating-places. She had thought she couldn’t eat a thing—but suddenly her appetite was back.

‘So...’ Farne began, in between the lobster bisque and the mouth-watering main course, ‘tell me about Travis.’

‘Travis! She stared at him in astonishment. Travis was a dear, a love, but there was no place for him in her thoughts tonight. ‘You want to know about Travis?’

‘You had a date with him on Sunday,’ Farne reminded her.

She was reminded of her idiocy in thinking for so much as the most fleeting of moments that he might be just the scrappiest bit jealous. He looked it! Smiling, easy, conversational. ‘I went to his place for tea.’ She saw no reason not to tell him.

‘He lives alone?’ Farne asked sharply. My word, what had happened to his being smiling, easy, conversational?

‘He’s quite good at it,’ she flipped his way. ‘Anyhow, I don’t ask you about your women-friends!’ she flared with hostility—and as Farne stared at her a gentle look all at once came to his blue eyes.

‘Oh, Karrie,’ he crooned softly. ‘Our second row!’

She laughed; she couldn’t help it. But she wished she could fathom this love business. No way did she want to quarrel with Farne yet, but a second or two ago she had been ready for pitched battle!

‘Where were we?’ she asked, calling a truce.

‘You were not asking me about my women-friends.’ He had instant recall—and frightened her half to death when, his look keen, direct, he queried, ‘You care?’

Too close! Much too close! ‘Of course, desperately,’ she replied, and, to show him how seriously he could take that, she grinned. Farne’s eyes stayed on her, but she was never more glad when, to prove he hadn’t taken her seriously anyhow, his mouth started to pick up at the corners. Then the waiter was there to clear away their used dishes and to enquire what they would like for pudding.