CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Daniel saved the attached photo to the cloud before reading the email again.
Daniel,
Thank you so much for sending the corsage. It matched my dress perfectly.
I’ll be honest. I’m glad you couldn’t come to the show. The local paper was there, and it was a relief to not be asked about you. You live in a world that resembles a fish bowl. I am a Swainson’s Warbler (one of the shyest birds in North America, in case you are wondering). You need an angel fish or even a dolphin to share your life with you.
I can’t live a life with bodyguards—though thank you for sending them—or where if I run to the store without makeup people think they can photograph me.
I suppose that some birds and fish can be friends, depending on size. Can we just go back to being friends who shared a summer? Maybe one day your fishbowl will shrink.
You will probably be tempted to call. Please don’t.
I really do need this to be a good-bye. We can be the type of friends who like posts and send Christmas emails. Someday we will run into each other at a Cubs game or something and exchange a hug.
I wish you the best.
_ _ . _ . . .
Mandy
PS. When I see you at the game, I owe you an apology. But it is too hard to explain. It’s another reason I am glad you didn’t come.
The bordello. Poor Mandy. She must have been hearing Grandma Mae’s voice scolding her over it ten times a day. Too bad. It made him smile. She had done a magnificent job with it. He looked at the attached photo again and wondered where she had found the vintage gown. He saved it to her profile in his phone, then started to look up the Cubs schedule but remembered she wasn’t a fan. Fighting for her had just moved to a whole new level. How much could he ditch the paparazzi and his fans in the next few weeks? Shouldn’t be too hard considering how much work had managed to wait for him and with his empty social calendar.
Pondering the plans he’d set in motion, it hit him. It had been in an interview with a couple on their seventieth wedding anniversary. The reporter had asked them if they had any secrets to their successful relationship. The husband stated that he made it a point to kiss her good morning and good night. His wife had blushed when she admitted that he still brought her a single flower every Friday. The therapist had it wrong. Love wasn’t in the grand gestures; they weren’t real. One of the reasons he wanted a relationship with Mandy was that she was real.
Mandy’s mother turned as far as she could in the pedicure chair. “I haven’t done this for years. How different is this from that spa in Chicago you went to a couple of weeks ago?”
More like a month and a half ago, which was why she agreed to a new pedicure for graduation, but she had already explained that to her time challenged mother. “No comparison, starting with the robes they had us change into.” Mandy leaned back as the manicurist pulled her foot out of the water.
“I can’t believe how much not being on a dig for three weeks has let my nails grow. We haven’t had a chance to spend much time together since you started college. I miss this.”
“Me too.”
“When are you going to stop moping around?”
The exfoliation tickled, and Mandy shifted before answering. “I’m not moping.”
Her mother raised her brows. “And I have a hamster that types.”
“Is that how you get your papers published so quickly?”
“Amanda Jane, I am serious. I know you told that Danny boy good-bye, but are you sure you did the right thing?”
Mandy looked around the room before answering, wondering who might be eavesdropping. Only the manicurists were in earshot. “Mom, the fact I am checking to see who is listening should be answer enough. I just can’t do that my whole life.”
“But if you could find a way, wouldn’t it be worth it?”
“Mom, please.”
“I haven’t seen him in the gossip columns since that silly trial ended.”
“Have you been looking?”
Her mother reached over and patted Mandy’s arm. “Hasn’t every woman under fifty-five?”
Most of the employees, including Bonnie, had left for the night. Daniel pulled out his phone. Can friends text?
Sometimes.
What do you call a duck that steals?
No clue
A robber ducky. Later. Daniel set his phone down.
Another text came. Bye.
At least it wasn’t good-bye. Daniel considered that a small win.
The restaurant was crowded with mostly graduates and their families. Mandy debated telling her parents about the scones. “I am glad you are here for my graduation.”
“Did you really think I would miss my little girl receiving her master’s? I would fly halfway around the world for it. Oh. I did!” Mandy’s father laughed at his own joke.
“Gerald,” her mother chided before turning to Mandy. “Have you been here before? What would you recommend?”
“The salmon is excellent.”
Her father set down his menu. “Dr. Christensen told me the scones were the best. I think I will order some for desert.”
Mandy didn’t dare eat one.
What do you call a bird that can fix anything?
IDK
Duck Tape.
Thanks for the graduation flowers. They are lovely.
Later
Two ducks are in a pond. One went “Quack, quack!” and the other duck said, “That’s funny. I was just about to say that!”
What do you call a duck on drugs?
Stupid?
A quackhead
These are bad. You quack me up.
Later
Kk
Daniel stared at the responses. He squelched the desire to high-five Terrance as he sat in the backseat and watched the eye of London turn in the distance. A month of texting had earned him an agreement to his ‘later.’
“What has caught your fancy, sir?”
“Nothing.”
“Nice to see you smile again. Now, here is the agenda for the next meeting.”
Trying to focus on the information, Daniel’s mind went back to wondering if they could move beyond jokes. He was running out.