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“It took my kids a little while to figure it out for themselves.” He sat forward, placing his forearms on the table. “Mrs. Koeppel mentioned you’re widowed. Was your marriage a happy one?”
Sam was surprised by the question, and it took her a minute to form an answer. Finally, with her thoughts together, she told him about Tim—all of it. Tilting her head to the side, she softly said, “I’ve never talked about all of that with anyone. It’s too personal. Thank you for listening.”
Her eyes searched his for condemnation, irritation, or revulsion. She found none of those. “What about your marriage. Were you happy?”
He took a deep breath. “I had an awful marriage. I was in the Army, which is where I learned about drafting and architecture. I came home and went to college. My last year in college, I met Suzanne. My friends and I were out at a club one evening when Suzanne and a group of her friends walked in. I thought she was very pretty and soon my friends and I and Suzanne and her friends were talking. She was in her first year of college as an art major. That night, I went home with her, and from that point on, we started dating. Things seemed fine—not great, but fine. We got along and enjoyed some of the same activities. My friends and some of her friends also hooked up, so we had mutual friends to go out with. Months later, I realized we only went out with groups of people and didn’t spend any time alone together. She was insistent that her father introduce me to people who would help me develop a clientele when I finished college. I thought it was great that this was all happening, just at the right time. Caleb and I had always talked about starting our own firm, and these introductions could only help make that happen faster.” He slid his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Anyway, about four months into dating, Suzanne told me she was pregnant. I was stunned. She had been telling me all along that she was on birth control and I believed her. I found out that wasn’t the truth. At first, she tried telling me that she must have forgotten to take her pill on time. Then, as time progressed, she confessed that she had never been on birth control. She told me a few years later that it was her intent right from the beginning to get into college and find someone to marry so she wouldn’t have to work.”
“Yadda yadda, throughout our marriage it was more of the same. I threw myself into my work and traveled more and became engrossed in the business. Caleb and I began talking in earnest about what we would need to open our own firm. I worked like a fiend; so did he. We made connections and put feelers out there. I learned everything I could about the business—what worked and what didn’t—so when we made our move, we were ready. As soon as we were, I left Suzanne and her father’s firm. Caleb and I started Kinkaide Locke, and it turned out, the contacts were ready for us to do things the way they should be done and we didn’t lose as many people as Suzanne had wanted me to believe. The ones we did lose, we weren’t sorry about.
“Suzanne was livid. All she ever wanted was to be the boss’ wife or someone with some perceived power, and of course, she didn’t want to have to work. She tried getting back together with me. She tried everything she could think of to make me think she had changed, but I’m never going back to that. Caleb and I have grown the business by leaps and bounds. My children are by my side, and I’ve been single ever since.”
Sam reached across the table and held his hand.
She looked him in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, Gray… for all the terrible years you had to endure. A marriage is supposed to be two people loving each other, working together day after day for the common goal of building a good life together. You should look forward to waking up every morning and spending your day together, not biding your time until you can get out.”
He squeezed her hand. “And it isn’t all about feeling guilty and scared and going through the motions either. Aren’t we a pair?”
They chuckled and decided to change the subject to other, less depressing topics. But Sam would always remember the sadness on his face when he talked about his marriage and how he wasn’t loved.
They left the restaurant a while later. She had to admit, she’d greatly enjoyed being with him. He was smart, funny, and he was a loving man—she could tell by the way he talked about his children. The ride home was comfortable, and as they drove around the city, he drove past a couple of buildings he’d designed. She loved listening to him talk about his work. He had a true passion for it. After the tour of “Kinkaide” buildings was over—although not a full tour, he had designed many buildings over the years—they headed to Sam’s house.
As they drove up the drive of her home, nerves took over, and she fidgeted with the strap of her purse. “Would you like to come in and have a drink?”
He put the Escalade in park and shut off the ignition. He turned his head toward her, and her breath caught as the soft light from the yard caressed his face. He was stunning, this man. Model handsome and nice to boot. “I’d like that very much,” he responded.
Sam pulled her keys from her purse; Gray reached over and gently took them from her. Her lips trembled into a soft smile, and the butterflies set flight. She’d be hard-pressed to remember a day a gentleman opened the door for her.
Entering the dimly lit home she’d so lovingly decorated, she tapped the switch on the wall, and the soft lights on either side of the fireplace illuminated the living room; the outside lights shone from the window and lit up the heavily-wooded backyard.
“Red or white for you?” she asked.
Gray walked toward the windows and stared out at the trees beyond. “What do you like?” He turned toward her, and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
“I usually like white wines, but I have a couple of great red after-dinner wines if you’re interested.”
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
She set her clutch on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. Tapping the lights on in the kitchen, she pulled two wine glasses from the rack above the counter. Pulling a bottle of red from the rack in the corner she quickly uncorked it with the help of her electric opener. She poured them each a glass and softly padded to the living room where the most handsome man she’d ever seen graced her living area and made it look more like a home than it had ever felt. The sensation that ran through her body at that notion nearly folded her in half.
Unable to look him in the eye for fear she’d say something stupid, she merely motioned with her hand toward the sofa and quickly seated herself before she fell.
He lightly tapped his glass to hers and watched as she sipped the deep red liquid. Once he’d taken a sip, he said, “I’d love a tour of your home if you don’t mind.”
Cocking her head to the side, she responded, “The architect needs to check it out?”
“That, and you seem nervous, so I thought it might put us both at ease.”
She breathed deeply. “Yes, I’m busted. I’m not sure what’s expected at this point.”
He stood and held his hand out to her. “Nothing is expected. We’re just friends getting to know each other. Tell me about your home.”
Fair enough. She stood and began walking him through her home. “I’ve painted every room, some of them more than once. I enjoy it and decorating.”
“You’ve done a beautiful job, Sam. You’re very talented. I noticed you have a For Sale sign in the yard,” he said.
“Yes … this is just too much house for me. I have three acres and too much house to keep track of. I have enough to do each day without having to come home and be a slave to the house and yard. So, I waited six months after Tim died to list it and had a little sit-down with the kids and told them it was time for me to move on.”
