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She doesn’t even have the courtesy to ask if I’m even available on Thursday. Her order has been given, and I desperately want to reply back that I can’t go. But after one look up at Luke with Ainsley at the swings and the way my heart is thumping with enough hope to make my stomach spin, I look down at the phone and send a simple text back.
I’ll be there.
nine
WEARING MY BEST COCKTAILdress and a pair of very high heels, I walk down the cobblestone path to the Wolfson Estate on time for my date with the doctor.
I glide my hands down the navy form fitting dress that compliments my curves. The rest of my wardrobe consists of silk blouses, pencil skirts, and slacks. And it’s mostly black. I own so much black clothing; you’d think I went to funerals for a living.
The Wolfson Estate is a familiar venue for me, as I’ve planned many weddings here. There’s a ballroom in the back with a vast domed ceiling. In the front is a restaurant where I’ve dined with my parents many times. I step down the front entryway to a reception area. The hostess takes me to a table for two in the center of the room. I let out a breath in relief that it’s vacant.
I’m only seated for a few minutes when a gentleman walks into the reception area, and from the gesture the hostess makes toward me, I know he is my date.
Dr. Eric Hollenford is thirty-eight, divorced, and a world-renowned geneticist. What my mother alluded to, but failed to properly mention, was how lovely he is to look at. He steps into the dining room, and it’s like a music video, where everything around him is in slow motion as he walks with a gentlemanly gait.
Not too short, not too tall, and a lean figure that shows he works out regularly and eats right. His hair is light and cut short. His eyes are dark, and when he approaches the table, he flashes a grin that could awaken a corpse.
I take his offered hand. It’s cool yet soft. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He holds back his tie as he takes a seat across from me. “Your mother was eager for us to meet. I’m happy I was able to make this happen. I had an appointment that went longer than I’d hoped, and I didn’t want to cancel.”
“For fear of my mother’s incessant calls?” I tease as I place my napkin on my lap.
“Guilty.”
“I understand. My mother can be a bit … much.”
He has a nice laugh. “True, but she’s not the only one. My mother is just as concerned for my well-being. And by well-being, I mean, my lack of a wife and children. My divorce didn’t sit well with her. I think she would have handled it better if I’d had a few kids. The woman is desperate for grandchildren … which I probably shouldn’t have just said to a woman I’m on a first date with.”
I laugh, then smash my lips together in complete understanding. “My single-mom status doesn’t sit well with my mother. I know she would have handled it better if there were an ex-husband in the picture. Easier to justify things to the masses.”
“It’s so old school.”
“That’s what I say! And my mom’s not even that old. She was born in a time when women were conquering the world and burning their bras. Clearly, she missed the women’s lib memo.”
“Good to know we have at least one thing in common. Overbearing mothers.” He lifts his water glass. “Cheers to burning our bras.”
I giggle like an idiot and lift my water glass and cheers him as well. As he takes a sip, I see his eyes gazing gingerly my way. With the clearing of my throat, I place my glass back on the table to reset the mood.
“This is the only time I’ve agreed to a date my mother’s offered. She’s recently taken to springing men on me at social gatherings. I think she’s getting desperate.”
“Jillian, you’re the third woman mine’s set me up with this month. I’m kind of a pro at first dates. The pressure is greater than telling a patient they have a rare and incurable disease.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Pot,” he deadpans.
“Seriously?” I gasp.
“It has its medical benefits.”
“I’m not so brazen as to smoke. Wish I were. Perhaps I could try a gummy or two.”
“Do-gooder?” he asks.
“Kind of.”
“What do you do to relax?”
