Again, my mind flashes to Lettie Benson. Instead, I ask, “Caroline?”
“She certainly knows how to behave at these things.” The invitation is for a black-tie fundraiser for the hospital. I’ve been before. I’ll be expected to wear a tux. The women will be wearing evening gowns. There will be a lot of important people, possibly the governor. My mom adds, “And how to dress.” I think of the string of unraveling yarn dangling from Lettie’s red beanie. My mom turns her eyes on me. “Caroline’s had a hard time lately. It’s softened her rough edges.”
“Mom, I like Caroline fine. But she’s like a sister to me. And Charlie said she’s back with that guy.”
“Oh! That!” My mom perks up to the gossipy subject. “That’s never going to happen. His family doesn’t approve.”
“Whyever not?”
“They’re snobs.” My mom says with disdain. “They don’t approve of Caroline’s work.”
“So, you wouldn’t be snobby if I dated a girl who’s not... say, a doctor or a lawyer.”
“Of course not. If you found someone, anyone, I’d be thrilled.”
That little glint of hope in her forlorn face pulls at my heart. I decide to give her something. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll go with a date. I have someone in mind.”
“You do?” Her tear-stained eyes light up. “Liam, that’s wonderful!” She pats the table, gesturing for me to sit. “Tell me all about her.”
I don’t normally indulge my mom by sharing feelings. In truth, I rarely admit them to myself. But it’s the anniversary of my dad’s death. And if she feels half as wretched as I do, she’s miserable. I can do this much.
“Remember that woman who worked for Bennet Parties—Lettie Benson.” My face heats just saying her name.
“Yes! Oh! She’s cute.” I wince at the use of “cute.” It seems a little dismissive. Of course, who am I to talk when I called her tolerable? “Are you seeing her?” My mom asks eagerly.
“No.” I’ve tried for the past month not to think of her. It was bad enough when, a couple of minutes after meeting her, Bingham suggested I kiss this stranger under the mistletoe. Bad because the moment the idea entered my mind, I couldn’t let it go. I wanted to kiss her—desperately. I bolted from that situation. But I couldn’t escape the idea of Lettie Benson. The whole night, I found my gaze drifting to her in her black puffy coat and unraveling red beanie. Her cheeks and nose, pink with the cold, and her eyes dancing with humor. She was always in the middle of the action, answering questions, solving problems, and making people laugh. I found I wanted to hear what she had to say. The moment I saw her by herself, I approached her. She did not disappoint. She immediately made a wry observation about my outfit change.
By the time we met again in the kitchen, my flicker of interest had flamed into a full-blown crush. It kills me that she overheard me calling her “tolerable,” but what else was I supposed to say? I couldn’t ask her out. As a rule, I never date employees. And though, technically, Lettie was not my employee, I had contracted the company she worked for, and that’s close enough. And then she said that sassy line about never kissing me, and I couldn’t let it go. Goaded on, I said more than I should have. I should have kept my mouth shut, but also, those last few minutes talking with Lettie were the best part of the party.
I initially chalked the whole confusing incident in the kitchen to being emotionally vulnerable. After all, it was my first time hosting the holiday party without my dad. But it’s been over a month, and I still can’t stop thinking of her.
I text Charlie.
Liam
Could you give me Lettie’s number?
Charlie
??????
I’ll have Jane send it ASAP
My phone dings. There’s a message from Jane with a new contact: Lettie Benson
I feel the same rush of joy I used to get when my team passed another boat during the last 500 meters. The contact info includes an adorable picture of Lettie wearing an oversized Iowa State sweatshirt, she’s laughing—of course.
“Why are you smiling?” my mom asks.
“Charlie sent me her contact info.”
“You’re going to ask her out?” My mom tries (and fails) to sound super casual.
I create the new contact. Then pause to study Lettie’s picture, again. Her eyes sparkle.
