Just Three Dates Read online

  She finally admitted she wanted Mark to accompany her because she liked him. Surprisingly, she found as she looked back on their two dates, while she had a few unpleasant memories, on the whole, she had enjoyed the time she had spent with him. She wanted another chance to discover if he felt the same way. Perhaps they would want to date without the compulsion of their promises to their mothers. Perhaps if the two of them could put their respective pasts behind them…

  Once she had decided to ask him, it had taken her two days to summon the nerve. Knowing that if she telephoned she would never allow the phone to ring more than twice without hanging up, she decided to waylay him at the café where he drank coffee each morning before class.

  She arrived at the café early and chose a seat in the rear, where she could see everyone who entered, but where Mark would be unlikely to notice her if he glanced through the window as he approached. She ordered a biscuit and hot chocolate, and she waited, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the table, glancing at her watch every few minutes.

  She had turned to thank the waitress for bringing her a second cup of chocolate, when the chime rang, indicating that the front door had opened. She spied Mark as he entered, taking the last vacant table, near the entrance, beside the large front window. The café was almost full and he did not appear to notice her as he laid his laptop on the table and popped it open.

  Karen watched as he greeted the waitress, who smiled at him, pouring his coffee without asking what he wanted. She then turned toward the kitchen, writing in her order book as she went.

  He must eat the same breakfast every morning. Karen smiled. She could easily imagine that to be true.

  She had rehearsed what she would say. She would begin with another apology since he seemed to harbor a grudge. Next, she would point out that their mothers were expecting a third date. Finally, she would propose they attend the concert.

  Mark ate his breakfast with his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. His back was facing her, and as the waitress removed his plate, Karen stood and walked toward the door, wanting it to appear as if she had encountered him accidentally.

  She tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hi, Mark,” Karen managed to sound surprised to see him. “When did you come in?”

  He turned and his eyes flicked up at her face. He seemed annoyed.

  “A few minutes ago.” He focused on the computer screen again.

  “Look, I want to apologize to you again…”

  Mark sighed, punched two keys, and closed the laptop. “There is no need in that.” He took a last gulp of coffee and sprang to his feet. “It’s good to see you, but I need to get to class.”

  Mark moved toward the door. Reaching the street, he hurried away.

  Karen found herself practically jogging as she tried to keep up with him.

  “Mark,” she called. “Wait. I want to ask you something.”

  His pace slowed, then he stopped and turned, glancing at his cell phone. “I don’t want to be late for class.”

  “I’ll only take a minute…Look, I know I acted like a…a shrew the other night.” She noticed a half-smile cross his face. “I get it that you want nothing more to do with me. I wouldn’t if I were you.” She took a deep breath and gazed at the ground, afraid to look in his eyes.

  “My mother is asking me about our third date. I don’t want to tell her…that I called you…that I overreacted, and, so, well, I wanted to know if we might go out one last time.” She held up a hand to stop him as he began to speak.

  “My aunt is having a chamber music concert at her house. She has them a couple of times a year, and she asked me to come and to bring you. I don’t know if you enjoy chamber music and I can’t promise it will be a terrific concert, but it would really help me out, with my aunt, with my mother…our agreements. You can take me home as soon as the music ends…I won’t bother you again…”

  She had known she was rambling, telling him about her aunt and the concerts, but she had decided not to mention the other reasons for her invitation, that she actually fancied him a little, wanted to give it another chance…

  Mark listened, making no move to walk away. She finally looked up.

  “My mother is asking too,” he said. His eyes cut away for a second, then returned to her. “We did agree to three dates.”

  ***

  Mark was not certain why he had consented to the date. He considered the matter as he dressed for the concert.

  Initially, he had been angry with himself. He had been quite serious when he had sworn to never see Karen again. When she had tapped his shoulder at the café, he had been concentrating on a paper he and a colleague in the psychology department were preparing to present at a meeting. Ironically, the paper concerned how social scientists measured perceptions of beauty. Nevertheless, when he’d heard her voice, he’d shut down his laptop immediately and walked away, intending not to engage her in a conversation.

  He had considered ignoring her when she’d called for him to stop. After all, he had been walking along a busy street, cars passing and horns honking, having managed to put enough distance between them so it might have been reasonable to assume he did not hear his name.

  Unfortunately, there was a downside to good manners. Once she had called to him, he’d been too polite to leave her standing on the street.

  As he listened to her, he’d recalled that he had enjoyed their dates, for the most part. He liked Karen and he had wondered what might have happened if she had not called him a liar, if he had not become angry with her. So, he’d decided to give them one last chance.

  He laughed at himself. Perhaps his true reason for agreeing to the third date had been that she had seemed to be in distress and he always had a soft spot for damsels.

  Mark looped a burgundy tie with small white dots around his neck and tied a perfect full Windsor. He had debated wearing his tartan bowtie. It was the Stuart tartan, but the reds and greens reminded him of Christmas and mid-October was a bit too early. He slipped on the coat to his navy suit and checked his reflection in the mirror. As his eyes ran down his body, he recalled his conversation with Vicky before his first date with Karen.

  “Why are you so concerned with what she thinks,” Vicky had asked.

  Why, indeed?

  Why wear a dark suit, white shirt, and wingtips when he could go “West Coast,” with jeans, striped shirt, blazer, and no socks under his slip-ons. He chuckled at the thought.

  Perhaps it was simple vanity. Karen hadn’t asked him out because she wanted to spend time with him. She wanted to keep her promise to her mother, nothing more. His sense of pride rebelled at the idea, and he wanted her to see what she would be missing.

  He chuckled. Very mature attitude.

  ***

  Her aunt’s nineteenth-century home had been one of Karen’s favorite places to visit as a child. Three stories high, it overlooked the Battery, and she had whiled away numerous summer afternoons playing on the porches, watching the sailboats skimming over the water, and observing the huge ships as the tugboats led them down the river toward the Atlantic.

  The porch on the first floor opened from a ballroom. Karen’s aunt had told her that at one time a number of homes in the city had rooms large enough for a ball, but only two or three remained. The others had disappeared before conservation efforts began in the thirties, hotels replacing homes as the sites for large dances.

  Aunt Olivia had once described to her a dinner dance given at the house in honor of a cousin’s wedding. Her aunt had been too young to attend, but she had stood near the door as guests had arrived, counting fifty couples before her sitter had whisked her off to bed.

  Tonight, one hundred fifty chairs had been brought in, and, even though they arrived twenty minutes early, Karen felt lucky to find two seats together. She spied her parents across the room as they arrived, and as the musicians tuned their instruments, her mother wandered over to see Mark.

  They talked nonstop for fifteen minutes. She asked a
bout his mother and sister. She told him about a friend whose daughter would be starting college in the fall, and she promised to give her Mark’s name as a teacher whose course she ought to take. They discussed the city’s plan for relieving congestion on the streets, a perennial issue in Charleston. He had asked her about a play opening at the theater.

  “That’s how it’s done,” she murmured as she patted Karen’s shoulder, slipping away just as Karen’s aunt stood to introduce the trio who were playing that evening.

  “Your mother is very nice,” Mark whispered as he took his seat.

  The musicians began to play. Karen tried to pay attention, but the music was slow, the room was warm, and the viola was a bit out of tune.

  She covered her mouth as she struggled to suppress a yawn. A flute, a viola, and a harp formed an unexpected combination, and she felt herself nodding.

  She glanced at Mark. He’d asserted that she was getting even with him for taking her to his lecture, and he’d smiled just enough to let her know it was a joke, almost as if he had been prompted to clue her in. Now, his eyes were closed and his body jerked slightly as they opened and he glanced around, a guilty look on his face. Karen reached over and squeezed his arm.

  “Intermission in five minutes,” she whispered in his ear. “We can sneak out.”

  Mark frowned and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he mouthed.

  Everyone applauded as the final movement ended.

  “We’ll reassemble in thirty minutes,” Karen’s aunt announced. “You’ll find refreshments on the porch.”

  The noise level rose as people left their seats, chairs scraping across the marble floor, voices raised in conversation as they headed for the porch that overlooked the rose garden. Karen and Mark walked outside, stopping at the far end of the porch, hoping that the cool breeze and a cup of coffee would revive them. Karen’s aunt joined them a few minutes later. She was a friend of Mark’s mother’s and they talked for several minutes.

  “Olivia,” Karen’s mother called, and Karen’s aunt turned to greet her. “How are you tonight? Your house is beautiful and the trio…their music just defies description.”

  Karen stifled a chuckle, hoping her aunt had not seen as Mark rolled his eyes.

  “I was looking for you to ask a question about…about…about next spring’s garden tour. Walk with me while I find a glass of wine.” She smiled at Karen. “We’ll give these two some time alone. I’m sure they can entertain themselves.” She caught Karen’s eye and mouthed “Talk to him.”

  Karen stared at her feet as her mother and aunt walked away.

  “Mom doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body.” She looked up to find Mark staring out toward the harbor. Karen could see lights on the islands that flanked it on both sides. A full moon was rising in the east, its light reflected in the water.

  “So this is it, our last date.” Mark turned to her. “I don’t think I’ve been particularly good company. I’m sorry things turned out as they did…” He glanced away as he continued.

  “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and since it is…”

  He’s being polite now, Karen thought, having used similar phases to express her enjoyment of a date she did not plan to repeat.

  “No, Mark, I know you haven’t had a very good time.” She looked at the floor. “I haven’t been very nice to you. I resent my mother for interfering in my life and every time we’ve gone out I’ve been angry at myself for allowing her do it. I suspect that my feelings showed.”

  They stood in silence for several moments before Mark offered her a half-smile. “So, we’re both terrible people and bad company,” he said.

  “We are,” Karen agreed, enjoying the hint of a smile she had come to take as a sign he was joking.

  “I was about to say, since it’s only nine o’clock, we might agree that our third date is over. Now. Finished.”

  “Okay.” She felt disappointed that he seemed so eager to be rid of her that he wanted to take her home early. Understandable, though. She shuffled her feet on the porch. What more could she say? Clearly this was beyond repair…

  “Then, since we’re no longer trying to please our mothers, we could celebrate our freedom.” Mark smiled.

  A real smile, Karen realized. Was he that happy to be rid or her? To have his “freedom” as he’d called it?

  “I could take you out for dessert. Have you ever been to Chocolate Heaven?”

  Freedom? Karen held back from getting her hopes up, but it seemed maybe he’d meant something else entirely. “What is Chocolate Heaven?”

  “A dessert restaurant.” Even in the darkness, his eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “Its name describes the menu to perfection. They serve the most delicious seven-layer, dark-chocolate cake with chocolate ganache icing between each layer…”

  Karen was staring at him, shocked that he was actually asking her out on a real date, a date not promised to their mothers. When she didn’t respond right away, he slumped as he turned away.

  “Or we can finish the concert, and then I’ll drive you home.”

  His disappointment was so obvious that Karen felt like crying.

  “No, Mark, no.” She reached out and touched his arm. “It sounds wonderful. Truly. I was just thinking that I’ve never seen you excited before. Except about math that is…”

  His face may not show his feelings, but his voice gave him away. She hadn’t noticed before. It seemed there might be more to Mark Stuart than she had originally thought.

  “Let me speak to Aunt Olivia.”

  Karen smiled and stepped away, returning a short time later. “I told her we had to leave and I blamed it on you.” Karen popped his arm gently, trying her best to flirt. “I said you were up late last night, and the music was so beautiful and so gentle that you were having difficulty staying awake.” She laughed.

  “Not exactly a lie. I was up late and the music was soothing.”

  “Well, I had to promise to bring you to the winter concert the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Karen suddenly realized that her promise and his agreement, even if spoken impulsively, implied that she and Mark would still be seeing each other in four months.

  “It was the only way out,” she said after a few seconds, concerned that he might feel as though she were pushing for more right after they had just made actual progress toward getting to know each other.

  “Well, let’s not sit here,” she said. “Let’s go. I’ve always wanted to see what heaven is like.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, they had crossed the river. The parking lot in front of Chocolate Heaven was full, and Mark finally found a space two blocks away. The path to the restaurant was uneven and Mark took Karen’s hand, holding it until they entered the restaurant and the host had shown them to their table.

  They were seated on the deck, overlooking the river. The lights of the city twinkled across the water, and a cool breeze blew in from the harbor. Although the sun had set, the candles on each table and the hurricane lamps mounted on the railing gave the sense of a romantic twilight. Karen glanced up at the stars visible in the dark sky above. The aroma of chocolate filled the air, making her mouth water.

  “So pretty,” Karen said as she opened the menu. “You told me about the cake. What else is good?”

  “I’ve had the chocolate-chip bread pudding and the chocolate bread—”

  “Bread?”

  “Oh, yes, spread with chocolate honey butter and topped with shavings of bittersweet chocolate. Now that I think of it, the bread is even better than the cake, if you can imagine…Their pudding is supposed to be fantastic, the ice cream, they make their own…I’ve never heard of anything that is not good.”

  Mark ordered the bread, and Karen chose the cake, then, as the waiter turned away, Karen folded her hands on the table. “I have a confession.”

  “A confession?”

  Karen nodded. “Last weekend, I was out shopping an
d I passed the college bookstore. In the window, I saw a book about the golden ratio.” She felt herself blush. “I bought a copy.”

  “Really?” He cocked his head to one side. “Why did you do that?”

  “I…I wanted to get to know you better, and I thought I could ask you questions about it.” She looked down. “I wanted to ask good questions. So you wouldn’t think I was dumb about math.”

  “I don’t think that at all.”

  “There is a formula in the first chapter…”

  Mark nodded. “I know the book.”

  “I could not understand it to save my life. I thought about it when I lay in bed, while I showered…One afternoon, when I was jogging, it came to me, like a bolt from the blue. It all suddenly made sense. Phi really is golden.”

  “When you saw me at the café last week, I was working on a paper about perceptions of beauty. You might enjoy reading it.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Mark sipped his mocha. “You said you jog?”

  “Four times a week. I ran cross country in college, and jogging is about as close as I can get to that, with my schedule and all. My mother thinks it’s not ladylike. In her mind, I’m running down King Street in a bathing suit.”

  Mark smiled. “What else do you do for fun?”

  “I paint. You know I majored in art in college, minored in art history. Painting is what I love. Art history is rather more employable.”

  “The paintings in your living room, I admired them when I picked you up for our first date, and you told me they’re yours.”

  Karen nodded.

  “They’re beautiful. I especially like the one of the bridge and the water lilies.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I have a confession too.”

  The waiter brought their order. Mark took a bite of his chocolate bread and closed his eyes. “That is so good.”

  “Could not possibly be better than the cake.” Karen took a forkful of her dessert. “Oh, my.”