Gibson's Girl

He was sure he had done no such thing. “I said I’d find her a sublet? I said that? In those words?”

“Well, if you’re going to sound like a lawyer about it,” Gina said huffily, “I suppose those weren’t your precise words. When we discussed it, I asked if you could find her a place to stay, a sublet or something, and you said sure, you guessed.”

“I never thought—” But he couldn’t tell her that he had come to count on her not following through. He owed her. A lot. And she rarely actually asked for anything.

Just this. Just...

Chloe.

“Nothing yet.”

“Nothing?” Gina sounded horrified.

“Yet, I said,” Gib muttered, beleaguered. “I’ll find something.”

“You won’t be sorry,” Gina said, all traces of huffiness gone at once. “I’m sure it will work out really well for both of you. Chloe was so eager to come. And she’s such a hard worker, Gib. There is nothing you could ask that Chloe wouldn’t do to help out.”

“You don’t say,” Gib replied drily, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep from telling Gina exactly what Chloe had already done.

She would be shocked. Hell, when he thought about it—about who she was—he was shocked. But he wasn’t going to mention it. Chloe Madsen, naked, was a memory he had no intention of sharing with anyone.

“She’s quite a good photographer in her own right,” Gina went on. “Oh, not in your class, dear. But she shoots wonderful photos for the Gazette.”

The Collierville Gazette was the local weekly newspaper. Gina was the business manager of the paper, so that was clearly where she and Chloe had connected. The photos Gib remembered in the Gazette’s pages were of local Pork Queens, fiftieth wedding anniversary celebrants, high-school football players who scored winning touchdowns and, for variety, artful “scenic” shots of acres and acres of corn and soybeans.

“And this inspired her to want to come to New York?”

“Not exactly.” Gina paused. “It had something to do with a nun, I think.”

“A nun!”

“For a story she wrote. Chloe, I mean. It sparked off something in her. She’s been a little restless, trying to figure out what she should do...”

Dance naked? Gib thought, smiling.

“She taught kindergarten for three years before she came to work on the paper.”

“Kindergarten?” He’d seen a kindergarten teacher naked !

Worse, at the memory, Gib could feel a stirring in his body even now. At least her being a kindergarten teacher explained the prim shirtwaist dress.

“She was wonderful with the children. She loved it, but she was a little restless there, too. She thought maybe it wasn’t what she ought to do forever, so she came to the paper last year.”

“And she still isn’t satisfied?” Gib asked.

“Well, I don’t know that she isn’t satisfied. But she’s lived in Iowa all her life. She wants to see what’s beyond the horizon.”

The more fool she, Gib thought.

“She won’t be able to cope with this,” he told Gina bluntly. “She’s too naive. Too innocent.”

“Well, she’ll have you and—”

“She damned well won’t have me! I’m not Mary Poppins, you know!”

“Of course not,” Gina said quickly. “I don’t expect that. Not...really. I was just hoping you’d be sort of...aware of her.”

Oh, he was that.

“She’s very eager to learn whatever you can teach her—”

Oh, cripes, don’t say that!

“—and you always seem to need a new assistant...”

Had she been talking to Edith?

“She’s exactly the sort of girl I wish you’d—” Abruptly, Gina stopped.

There was a long silence. A pregnant silence. A silence Gib was determined not to fill. One which he hoped Gina wouldn’t fill, either. He knew what she’d say if she did.

The girl I wish you’d marry.

It was no secret that Gina wanted him to get married and come back to Iowa. That was what she’d always hoped for, ever since he’d taken a summer internship with noted celebrity photographer Camilo Volante a dozen years ago.

At the time Gina had wondered why he would do something like that. “Celebrity doesn’t interest you,” she’d said.

And Gib had replied, “But people do.” It was people he wanted to photograph. Working for Camilo Volante had seemed like a terrific opportunity to learn from one of the world’s foremost photographers of famous people. Then he could take it from there, using what he’d learned, photographing whoever he wanted.

That had been the plan, at least.

He’d expected then that he would go back to Iowa.

But life had a way of changing those plans. And the summer job had turned into an autumn one. And after that, well, things had changed. Irrevocably.

And Gib had never come back.

Now Gina appreciated that he was a success as a fast-lane, high-style photographer of beautiful women. But she still never hesitated to ask what had happened to his dream of shooting photos of people from all walks of life. And she also never hesitated to say how much nicer she thought it would be if he would find a lovely young woman, marry her, come back to Iowa and take photos of farmers—and Pork Queens.

Or maybe, just this once, she did hesitate.

“I’m not interested,” Gib said firmly, in case she thought she had subliminally made her point.

“Interested? Oh, you mean... in Chloe?” Gina laughed lightly. “Of course not. And Chloe’s not interested in you, either. She’s only there for a break, Gib. Anyway she’s engaged. She’s getting married in September.”

Married? Chloe?

Gib felt oddly breathless, as if someone had punched him. It was the most unexpected feeling he’d ever had. It puzzled him. Why should he care?