The Marriage Portrait

Michael was tempted to ask her assistance in his search for Cassie, but he figured the less he said about the artist, the more unlikely it was anyone would discover he’d met her at the dating service dinner. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t made such a fuss about being an unwilling participant, telling Tabitha he only attended the dinner because he hadn’t wanted to hurt Tessie.

His assistant had asked him about his evening out the following Monday morning. She’d listened intently as he’d given as brief an explanation as was possible, saying that although it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, it wasn’t the way he wanted to meet women. Then he’d waited a couple of days before asking about the art galleries, not wanting Tabitha to question why he suddenly had an interest in art.

He didn’t. He’d always been a science guy, needing things to be concrete, not abstract. Which was why it was probably foolish of him to be entertaining thoughts that he and this Cassie could enjoy more than a couple of glasses of wine and some titillating conversation.

But he did entertain such thoughts. Ever since the dinner, she’d been on his mind often—which really had him perplexed. He wasn’t one to fall head over heels for a woman at the first meeting—certainly it had never happened to him before. Maybe his fascination with her had to do with the fact that Cassie wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe if she hadn’t told Claudia Dixon to blow him off, he wouldn’t now, six days later, be trying to figure out how to find her.

But he was trying to locate her. That’s why he’d had Tabitha go on the Internet and get a listing of the local art galleries. He hoped to find a Cassie among the names, but when he’d read through all of the pages without any success, he decided it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

For all he knew, she might have been a starving artist—and a not very good one at that. Maybe she’d never shown her work. Or maybe she only talked about being an artist but hadn’t actually created a single work of art. He threw the computer printout into a desk drawer.

He needed to forget about Cassie the artist. Meeting a woman through a dating service was not his idea of romance anyway. And he didn’t want his mother to get any more ideas on the subject, which meant there was something he had to do. He unlocked the center drawer on his desk and pulled it open. The only item inside was a black book.

He picked it up and flipped through the alphabet until he came to the ‘T’ section. When Rebecca Tollefson dated a guy, she made sure everyone around knew he was her possession. The thought made him shiver. Still he picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“Rebecca, Mac.”

After a throaty chuckle of delight, which conjured up all sorts of provocative images in his mind, she said, “I’m so glad you called. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Now how could I do that? You’ve been on my mind a lot lately and I was wondering, are you free on Sunday?”

AFTER A BUSY WEEK at the clinic that had included several emergencies, which had robbed him of sleep on three out of the past six nights, Michael was not in the best of moods on Sunday when he picked up Rebecca. It didn’t help that she wanted to spend the day in the city and would have been perfectly content not to leave his place.

The city was not where he wanted to spend his afternoon. Ever since he’d graduated from college he’d lived alone in a condominium the real estate agent had called the perfect residence for the young professional. It was in a high-rise that gave him a spectacular view of the metropolitan area and easy access to the clinic and its patients. It also had its own health club, tennis courts and swimming pool.

Rebecca saw no reason to leave the complex when they had everything they needed at their fingertips. Not even when Michael told her that he wanted to take her to the lake so that she could meet his mother did she change her mind. It was only after much cajoling and the promise that they would later return to the nightclub just around the corner that she agreed to spend the afternoon at Tessie’s.

As he pulled into the long, winding driveway leading to the house, Rebecca said, “This is quaint, isn’t it?”

Michael didn’t comment, but hoped that when she stepped inside the house she wouldn’t remark on how old the house was. It wasn’t the fanciest of houses, but it was the one he’d called home ever since he could remember. He loved its high ceilings and varnished wood floors. He also knew that no matter what day of the week or what time of day it was, Tessie would welcome him with open arms. Whether she would welcome Rebecca was anyone’s guess.

Although he didn’t like the idea of allowing his mother to believe that Rebecca was anything other than a woman he occasionally dated, he knew that if he was going to get Tessie to stop her matchmaking, he needed to convince her that he was getting serious about Rebecca. Only he soon discovered that Tessie was nowhere in sight.

Rebecca could only pierce him with one of her “I told you I didn’t want to come” stares and said, “Guess you should have called first.”

“She’s always home on Sundays,” he said, walking around to the side of the house, where he peeked into a small window in the garage. “Her car’s here.” He followed the sidewalk to the back of the house. She wasn’t in the garden, nor sitting on the patio, nor rocking in her wicker chair in the gazebo.

“You looking for Tessie?”

Michael glanced across the honeysuckle hedge to see Otto, the next-door neighbor and husband to one of the Mums, sprinkling his garden. “Have you seen her today?” he asked the balding gentleman.

“Sure did. She took off with a couple of the Mums right after church. Nan said they were going to the senior citizen center. Apparently they have some big doings going on over there, but Nan and I couldn’t go. We’re baby-sitting the grandkids.”

“Thanks.” Michael acknowledged the information with a wave of his hand, then turned to Rebecca, who stood tapping her foot near the Explorer. She’d heard every word of his conversation with Otto so he didn’t have to repeat it.

“Does that mean we can leave?” she asked, impatience twisting her lovely features into a scowl.

He hadn’t put up with Rebecca for this long to give up on his plan because of a little detour. “If I know Tessie, she won’t stay away very long on a beautiful day like this.”

“You want to wait for her to come home?”

It was obvious that Rebecca didn’t. “It’s not as if there isn’t anything to do,” he said with as charming a smile as he could muster. He nodded to her small designer cloth bag. “Put your suit on and we’ll go for a swim.”

She wrinkled her nose. “In the lake?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because it’s dirty, for one thing.”

“It’s perfectly safe for swimming, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“The last time I swam in a lake I cut my foot on a rusty beer can.”

“This is private property and I know for a fact that Tessie doesn’t drink beer.”

“But what about the creepy crawly things…oh, and those slimy black leeches?” She practically shivered at the thought. “And the bottom’s probably full of yuck.”

“There are a few weeds, but all the home owners in this bay have the beach raked for weeds every summer.” She didn’t look convinced so he said, “What about going for a boat ride?”