Operation Mail-Order Bride (2 page)

“That explains it. So you’re a Southern Belle in disguise. What about the lisp?”

“What lisp?” If I had one, this was the first I’d heard of it.

“When you pronounce your Ss. Maybe not a lisp … a faint whistle.”

I thought. This question was a little strange, but the entire conversation was proving to be full of surprises.

“No one has ever mentioned that before, Blair, but I guess that sound happens because of the little gap between my front teeth.”

“Hmm.” I could hear paper rattling on his end. “That doesn’t show in your picture.”

“It’s not a very wide gap.”

“Do your teeth look like that model’s … uh … Lauren Hutton’s?”

“My gap’s not as wide as hers.”

“I like her smile.” I was positive he sounded turned on. “Actually, Cassie, the closer I look at this picture, the harder it is to tell exactly what you look like. It’s very dark.”

“I guess I’ll have to find a better one to send you,” I said gleefully.

He agreed that was a good idea, and after extracting a promise that I would call him after receiving his letter, said goodnight.

That was how the getting-acquainted phase of Operation Mail-Order Bride went. We exchanged letters and pictures. We spoke on the phone, taking turns, every two weeks. I found myself looking forward to these phone calls more than anything else in my life, except Blair’s letters. I began to turn down invitations for Sunday-night activities, even on the off-weeks, in case Blair decided to break the pattern and call when it wasn’t his turn. He never did, and I couldn’t afford to, so I spent these Sunday evenings alone, wishing for more frequent
communication and daydreaming about possibilities. We had briefly touched on the subject of marriage and children, enough to confirm what our friends had already told us both—that we both wanted those things in our lives—but we put off any serious discussions until we met.

I was thrilled when I came home on my birthday in April and found a small package from Blair stuffed into my mailbox. Upon opening it, I found a paperback novel that he had recommended. With the book was an attractive card bearing a handwritten note:

Dear Cassie,

I hope this arrives in time for your birthday and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did. I think you will, as our tastes seem to be similar in so many areas.

Would you do me the honor of being my date at the wedding of our good friends Trent and Rose this coming July the tenth? Escorting you will double my pleasure in an event that is already a landmark in our lives.

Awaiting your answer with rapid heartbeats I am

Entirely yours,
Blair

I squealed and danced through my apartment, holding the card. “He likes me,” I hummed. “He likes me enough to ask me for a date!”

I was tempted to call him and give him my answer immediately, but I suppressed it. Better not to appear too eager and needy. Better to write a proper thank-you note for the book and include my acceptance of his invitation. For the moment, however, I was too excited to sit. The wedding was less than three months away. I paused in front of a mirror. I would need a haircut before then … three weeks before the wedding would be early enough so I wouldn’t look newly shorn. I needed to get started on my dress. I had a perfect pattern but the perfect fabric eluded me. I needed to go shopping with a friend.

The phone rang.

“Cassie, happy birthday!” cried Rose. In the background I could hear someone humming “Happy Birthday” on a kazoo.

“Thank you, Rose, and thank your accompanist for me,” I
giggled. “I’m really glad you called….”

“What’s wrong?!?” I could hear her concern.

“Nothing. In fact, things are very, very right. I found a package in my mailbox today—a birthday gift from Blair. And he wrote a note on the card, formally asking me to be his date at your wedding.”

“Great!” Rose turned away from the phone and relayed the news. I could hear her voice and Trent’s shouting “Hooray!” and the sound of a loud, wet kiss. Rose was back on the line. “I want to do something to celebrate with you,” she offered. “Just tell me what you want to do.” Talk about good timing.

“I need you to go fabric shopping with me. I want my dress to be really special.”

“Of course. This coming Saturday?”

“That will be perfect.”

“We’ll make a day of it. We can visit a couple of malls or outlets and have lunch.”

Rose’s input was all I needed to find the perfect fabric: turquoise rayon with a matte floral design against a satin background. It felt and draped like heavy silk.

“I know you’ve been calling each other as well as writing letters,” Rose began as we started on our salads. “Do you think this is a good way to get to know a prospective mate?”

“I’m not sure.” I felt uneasy about what we were doing, especially in this day and age. On the other hand, what choice did we have, given the geography? “I don’t think it’s possible to get to know someone well enough to know you want to marry him unless you spend a lot of time with him in person—day in and day out.”

“So, if you two find that the chemistry is there when you finally do meet, what’s next?”

“I guess I’ll move to Texas.”

“Do you want to do that?”

“Not right now, and not without spending time with Blair face-to-face, but this relationship will go nowhere beyond us being pen pals unless we’re living in the same town.”

She nodded. “Good point. What’s bothering me is: how come you have to move? It’s so far from here. I’ll hardly ever get to see you!” She sounded so mournful I might have been planning to leave next week.

“I have a lot more freedom than he has right now. He just started graduate school. That’s a commitment for at least two years. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to quit school just to be with me. School’s too important.”

“What about your life? You have a good job.”

“It’s good but it’s not great. I can be replaced easily. The only commitment I feel I have to that company is to give them two weeks’ notice when I decide to leave. My skills are marketable all over the country. I can go anywhere and get the same kind of work.” We munched silently for a couple of minutes. “I know I’ve never talked about this,” I continued, “but for the past couple of years I’ve been feeling very … dissatisfied.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t seem to be getting anywhere in life. After school, I felt as if I was making progress. I got a job, then a better job. I met interesting men and went out at least once every weekend. But after a couple of years, I seemed to hit a wall. I’d learned most of what there was to learn about my work, and suddenly, I didn’t seem to meet any new men. I haven’t had a long-term relationship since I broke up with Jerry.”

Rose
grimaced. She disliked Jerry intensely.

“Then you and Trent set me up with Blair, and things are looking up again. Maybe nothing permanent will come of this, but for now, at least, I have something to look forward to.” I sipped my tea. “It’s … nice, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

She shrugged, but her pleasure showed. “It’s not as if it was any work, Cassie. We were just go-betweens.”

“No work? What about my photos? That took an entire afternoon!”

“And you paid me—in prints for my portfolio. When I get around to going to art school, they’ll be worth their weight in platinum.”

Our conversation shifted to Rose’s plans for the future, and soon we left the restaurant and went to our homes, ready for our respective evening plans: she out to a play with Trent; me to cut out the pieces of my dress.

The weekend of the wedding came at last. Blair and I met at the rehearsal dinner. We were invited even though we were not members of the wedding party. In the interest of economy, that was limited to relatives. When I arrived at the restaurant, the wedding party and other guests were gathering to go into the dining room.

“There she is,” I heard Rose say. I looked for her and spotted her at the door to the dining room, Trent at her side. On his other side was a brown-haired, brown-eyed bespectacled man, taller than I expected, clad in a suit that didn’t seem to fit very well. He appeared ill at ease.

Why, he’s more nervous than I am,
I realized, and began to make my way toward them, but Rose and Trent’s families were blocking my path. When I managed to step closer, one of Rose’s aunts or a cousin would notice me and start a conversation. I had become acquainted with many of them during my frequent stays at Rose’s house while she and I were growing up. Now that they saw me less often, those who knew me were eager to catch up.

“Am I to understand that a new romance involving you may begin this evening, Cassie?” This was Cecilia, a great-aunt of advanced years whose spirit was lively though she was wheelchair-bound. She and I got along especially well, so I knew Rose had told her what we had been up to for the past six months.

“That’s the plan, Ceil,” I replied, bending to hug her. “How have you been?”

“Same as usual. You know me. Is it true you and young Mr. Hutchinson have never met? You’ve only written letters and spoken over the phone?”

“It’s true.”

“Well,” she said, gently pushing me back into a standing position and patting my hand before she released it, “I wish you all the best, my dear. I think you deserve it,” whereupon she spun her chair around and disappeared into the crowd. I resumed my efforts to reach my date, wondering at Ceil’s behavior. Had she met and talked to Blair? Did she dislike him? I knew Ceil was very perceptive about people. Still, she had not said anything negative about him. I continued inching my way toward the door. When I reached it, Rose was occupied, whispering animatedly to a cousin, her Maid of Honor. Trent stepped into the breach and performed introductions.

“It’s very nice to meet you in person at last, Cassie,” Blair stated. Then he smiled and I felt relief. My first glimpse of him had given me the impression that he was sorry he came.

“Blair, I’m delighted to be in the same room with you, finally.” We smiled at each other for a moment, then he crooked his elbow and offered it to me.

“Shall we go in? Rose said we’re seated together. We may as well go find our places.”

We moved into the room and after a brief search, found our seats. I felt flustered when he bustled to pull my chair out for me and adjust it as I sat in it. I could not remember the last time a date had done that for me! Hoping he didn’t notice my confusion, I watched other guests as they filtered into the room, aware that Blair was studying me.

Why do I feel so awkward?
I wondered.
I should feel as if we already know each other. Why can’t I think of anything to say to him?

“Trent said you worked late this evening. Do you do that a lot?”

I nodded. “The job’s been that way for the past two years or so. The company is growing, and it’s hard to keep up.”

“It sounds tiresome. Why do you stay?”

“I enjoy the work.” He looked skeptical. “It’s hard to believe if you don’t know anything about the printing business, but it’s fascinating. There’s always something new to learn. The business and the technology change constantly.” He looked distracted and was fiddling with his teaspoon, so I changed the subject. “How’s the History business? In your last letter you mentioned you were starting on your summer reading list. What are you studying now?”