Finding Mr. Right

In the staff cafeteria, she bought a quiche, a bottle of lemonade and an apple, went back to the pool, and took a table in a shaded area to eat her lunch. Several people went for a swim, but she focused on her meal.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” the male voice drawled.

She looked up into the face of a man she didn’t know. Seeing that he was tall and easy on the eyes, she let herself smile. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said after dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“And what a pity that is,” he replied. “I’m Matt Cowan. Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“I’m Tyra Cunningham.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down. “Don’t let me interfere with your lunch. What do you do here?”

Very direct she thought. “I’m a counselor. Some people would call me a psychoanalyst, but they’d be wrong.” He crossed his legs and appeared to get comfortable, so she continued eating.

“What is your field?”

She stopped eating and stared at him. Curiosity was one thing, but rudeness was something she wouldn’t tolerate. “Psychology,” she said. “And that’s the last question I’ll answer.”

He stood and wiped the front of his left trouser leg with his handkerchief. “Sorry if I annoyed you. I tend to do that to people.”

“You didn’t annoy me, Mr. Cowan. I stopped you before you got that far.”

He smiled. “I’d like to know you better. But right now, I have to meet a client. We’ll pick this up again later.”

“Mr. Cowan, I had a cat who ignored me until he wanted something. He didn’t let me pet him or even touch him. One day I decided to let him know who held the power.”

Matt walked back and stared down at her. “What happened to him?”

“He loved milk and liver. When he didn’t get either for three days, he began following me around the house, rubbing against my leg and looking up at me and meowing. He got plenty to eat, but not what he craved. After a week, I relented, and he no longer treated me as if I were his servant. He was at my heels all the time.”

“And the moral of this story?”

“I don’t appreciate arrogance.”

“Okay. I stand corrected. Why don’t we have lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you know.”

He looked at her for a minute. “I’m about to be late. See you.”

She didn’t think she could get along with him. He was an alpha male type, and he probably went to the gym every morning before getting to work.

She saw Barbara Johnson as she left the pool area and went back inside the building. She wasn’t sure of Barbara’s title or of her precise responsibilities, but she was certain that Barbara knew everything about everybody who worked for LAC, as the employees called the center.

“Barbara, are all of these lawyers full-time employees?”

“Good heavens, no. Fuller, Parker and Jenkins are full-time. All the others are either salaried part-time employees or volunteers.”

She knew she was taking a chance, since Barbara could have been involved with someone at the center, but she asked any way. “What about Cowan? He struck me as being a lawyer.”

“He is, and he makes certain that everybody knows it.”

“Hmm. No love lost there.”

“At first glance,” Barbara went on, “it seems like the pickings here are good. But scratch the surface, and you’ll find that this place is about as devoid of real men as a baseball stadium in January.”

Barbara couldn’t have been more correct or more discouraging. No telling what was behind that. She forced a smile. “What a pity. They’re such a good looking bunch, too.”

“Yeah, but you can’t judge a man by his appearance.”

“Nor a woman.” Realizing that her last comment might have been misinterpreted, Tyra tried to make up for it. “I know you’re very busy, but perhaps we could have lunch.”

“Sure,” said Barbara.

“See you later.” Tyra went back to her office, wondering about her decision. She could be a counselor somewhere else, but the real appeal of the job was its available bachelors. So far, the two clients she was assigned—a teenage runaway and a woman who wasn’t sure she wanted to leave her abusive husband—were depressing cases to work on. She welcomed Byron’s call that evening with enthusiasm.

With Andy in bed and his Aunt Jonie sitting outside on the deck as she did most summer evenings, Byron had a sudden sense of loneliness. He knew it was natural to feel that way after Lois’s death, but her loss was buried deep inside of him in a place that no once could touch. Without thinking, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Tyra’s number.

“Hi. This is Byron. Did I call too late?”

“No. It’s only nine. How are you?”

The word fine came to mind, but he didn’t feel fine. He’d spent the day smiling and pretending. “I’m not sure how I am, Tyra. I think I’d feel better if you were here.” He knew he’d shocked her, but it was no use pretending.

“You’ve surprised me, Byron. If something’s wrong, I’m sorry. I’d fix it if I could.”

“I’m not certain you can’t. Ever since I met you, I’ve been a little off kilter.” And he had. Things that usually satisfied him just didn’t anymore.

“Are you unhappy?” she asked. He heard in her voice the softness and compassion that he’d missed for four long years.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m obviously not myself, either. And I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”

“That’s what friends are for. Look, come by and let’s go some place and get an ice cream cone.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. In fact, I think it’s just what I need. Can you make it in twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes it is.” She brushed her teeth, dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and went in the family room where she knew Maggie was watching television. “I’m going out for a few minutes.”

“If it’s who I hope it is, make good use of the time,” Maggie said as she threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“No comment.”

Tyra grabbed her pocketbook from the back of the dining room chair, took her hair out of a ponytail and closed the front door behind her. As the Cadillac drove up, she started down the walk. Byron got out of the car and met her.

“Hi.” He slipped an arm around her waist, bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not moody, but—”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain,” she said, taking his hand. “We all need a lift some time. You’d do the same for me.”

He opened the passenger’s door for her and helped her in. “You’re right. I would, and I won’t forget it.”