I have to admit this feeds my ego.
Another text comes in:
Liam
The gala is black tie. I hope that’s okay?
No! Of course, I don’t have anything to wear. Why would I have clothes for a black tie anything? Still, I bet my cousin has an evening gown I can borrow; we are about the same size.
Lettie
I’ll manage
Liam
Wonderful!
***
I plan not to tell anyone elseat work that Liam (our wealthiest client) has asked me out. I don’t think Priscilla could handle the news. At the very least, it would derail our monthly planning meeting, which is held in the old Victorian’s formal dining room. An eclectic selection of chairs representing various furniture styles and eras surrounds the long rectangular table from IKEA. I’m late because I called my cousin, April, asking to borrow a dress for the gala.
I sneak into an empty seat, a French cafe chair between Jane and a new guy with shaggy ash-blond hair. Wearing a flannel over a wrinkled T-shirt, the new guy is scruffily handsome. He looks me up and down, then smiles a slow, sexy smile. He leans over. “Noah Whittaker and you are?”
“Lettie Benson.”
“The pleasure is mine.” He extends his hand and holds mine a little longer than necessary. This would be a bit icky with some dudes, but not this guy. He’s cute in a harmless puppy dog way.
“Nice to meet you.” I pull my hand back and return my attention to Priscilla. Who just said my name. She stands in front of the dry-erase board, clutching her iPad.
“You can fill in? Right, Lettie?” Priscilla has dyed her hair red for the month of February.
“Fill in on what?” I ask for clarification.
“The Valentine sock hop at the retirement center next Saturday. I’m the lead, but I happen to have a date that night.” Lydia gives an approving hoot and whistle for her mom.
“I’m sorry,” I say above the chorus of cheers and clapping. “I can’t. I have a prior commitment.”
Priscilla’s eyes widen. “But youneverdate.”
“I didn’t say it was a date.” My cheeks burn as every eye in the room fixes on me. “But I happen to have something that night.”
“Then what is it?” asks Priscilla.
I take a moment to answer, “Okay, it is a date.”
“It’s true,” Jane pipes up. “Lettie has a hot date.” More cat calls and cheers.
Lydia pounds the table and shouts, “Who is it?”
“Yeah, who’s the lucky guy?” asks Cat, a recent community college grad and Lydia’s favorite sidekick.
“Lettie, we all want to know who you’re going out with,” says Priscilla.
“It’s no big deal,” I answer. “Hardly a date. It’s just that I can’t do the retirement party.”
“I’m certain you could cancel or change the day,” suggests Priscilla.
“I can’t. I really can’t.”
