The Marriage Portrait

Michael found himself staring at her and becoming more intrigued with each passing moment. Although there was steady conversation on his side of the table, he repeatedly found himself glancing across the table and meeting the blue eyes of Cassie, the artist. And every time he did, those eyes would regard him with a glint of amusement that made him think she knew exactly how uncomfortable he was sitting there.

Although there were moments when the conversation included all eight guests at the table, most of the talk was between people sitting next to each other. That, however, didn’t keep Michael from listening to what others said. He tuned in specifically to what Cassie was saying. She was a skillful conversationalist, saying very little about herself yet gleaning information from others. It only made him more curious about her.

Everything about her was graceful. From the way her head tilted ever so slightly on her beautiful, swanlike neck, to the manner with which she ate her escargots. He found himself wondering just what kind of art she did with those long, slender fingers. But more than that, he wondered why she was looking for love through a dating service.

As the appetizer plates were cleared away, he found himself wishing that it had been the main course they’d just finished, because the women would once more move over a chair and Cassie would be next to him. But during the main course, his pager buzzed. He realized it was eight o’clock. Tabitha was right on schedule.

Intrigued by the artist and wanting the opportunity to talk to her when she moved next to him, he didn’t call his assistant. When the last of the dinner plates had been taken away, Cassie announced that it was once again time to change places.

She took the chair next to Michael’s right and gave him the same furtive smile she’d cast his way when he’d ordered the Scotch. “So, Dr. Michael. You never did answer my question. What’s it like being an animal doctor?”

“It’s a challenge,” he answered honestly, noticing that she had a tiny dimple in one cheek that wasn’t noticeable until you were close to her. “And please, call me Mac.”

“And do you like challenges, Dr. Mac?” she asked provocatively.

“Yes. Aren’t they the spice of life?”

“No, that’s variety.”

“I like that, too,” he answered with an equally flirtatious grin. “And what about you? What’s it like being an artist?”

“It’s incredibly frustrating.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Perfection is never easy to achieve.”

“And you strive for perfection when you paint?”

“Oh, it’s not my work that is perfect. It’s my subjects. Trying to reproduce beauty is in many ways a challenge, too.”

“Then we have something in common, don’t we?”

“Professionally, anyway.”

“What about the personal Cassie? What does she like to do when she’s not meeting the frustrating challenges of capturing beauty?”

“My art is my life,” she answered with a candor that surprised him. He expected some flirtatious banter, but instead she was sincere. “That doesn’t mean I work twenty-four hours a day,” she was quick to add. “But I do tend to get so involved with a project that I lose track of time.”

“That sounds like a warning.”

She smiled, another furtive grin. “Now why would I need to warn you, Dr. Mac?”

“Maybe because you know that all evening I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to finally come sit in that chair.”

She lifted both brows in a provocative invitation. “I’m here.”

“Yes, and I’m glad.” He leaned closer to her so that only she would hear his next words. “I’ve always thought dessert was the best part of a meal.” She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound that did funny things to Michael’s insides.

“Then we have something else in common, don’t we?” she said, and picked up her fork and cut into the slice of cheesecake.

“Oh, I think we might have a quite a few things in common,” he said.

“Such as?”

“A mutual love of nature.”

“And how do you know I love nature?”

“You do, don’t you?”

She smiled. “Yes, but doesn’t everyone?”

“Not the way you and I do. Others see rain and think it’s a nuisance. You and I don’t see rain. We smell it. We taste it. We hear it. We feel it.”

“Are you sure you’re a doctor and not a poet?” She reached for her water glass. Before she could raise it to her lips, he tapped it with his. “To challenge.”

She clinked her glass against his and smiled that provocative grin of hers. “To challenge.”

He couldn’t believe how well things were going. She again asked him about his work and he entertained her with anecdotes from the clinic. It was as if the other six people ceased to exist. All he wanted was to hear that luscious, sultry voice of hers and see that sly, flirtatious smile.

Then his pager buzzed again.

“Oh-oh. Looks like Dr. Mac in on call,” she remarked.

He pushed his sport coat aside and reached for the electronic device. It was his escape route. Only now he didn’t need or want a way out of the dinner.

“I think this thing is malfunctioning,” he told her, clicking the button that revealed Tabitha’s number. “I’m getting a scrambled message.”

“Do you need to check with your service?”

“No, it’s all right. I’m sure it was nothing.” But only a few minutes later the pager buzzed again. As he read Tabitha’s number, he wondered why she hadn’t given up? Surely she could figure out that if he hadn’t answered the pager, it meant he was having a good time and didn’t need to make his escape?

“You have to go, don’t you?” Cassie said, the disappointment in her voice making it all the more difficult to leave.

He wanted to ignore the page, but he also knew that it could very well be an emergency. In all good conscience, he couldn’t disregard any attempt that might be a call for help. Reluctantly he folded his napkin and laid it on the table.

“I’d better go check and make sure this isn’t something important. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

Instead of going out to the car to use his cell phone, he used the pay phone in the lobby. He punched in the seven digits of Tabitha’s home phone number.

He knew she had caller ID when she said, “How come you’re calling from a pay phone?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring the cell phone into the restaurant.”

“Well, for someone who was itching to get out of dinner, it sure took you a long time to answer your page.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he’d met Cassie and was no longer in a hurry to make a hasty departure from the dinner.

“Mookie’s in labor and it doesn’t look good. I think she needs a cesarean.”

Mookie was Tabitha’s mother’s schnauzer. “You’ve seen her?”

“Mom brought her over here because she was acting strange. I put her in the basement and left her alone, but it’s obvious she’s having big troubles, Mac. You’d better hurry.”

“I’m on my way,” he told her, then hung up the phone. He hurried back to the private dining room and bent so that he could speak to Cassie.

“I have to go. It’s an emergency.”

“Another challenge?”

“Yes, but I’d much prefer the one right here,” he said softly. “I’d like to get to know Cassie the artist. Maybe we could do that when there weren’t so many people around?” He could see the curious glance of Sharon the nurse and didn’t doubt for a moment that she was straining to hear every word of their private conversation.

Coyly, Cassie answered, “You know the rules, Dr. Mac.”

“Call Claudia at Dinner Date,” he stated in understanding. “You can be sure I will.” Then he made a formal apology to the group and left.

As he drove the distance to Tabitha’s home, his thoughts were of Cassie the artist. First thing Monday morning he was going to call Dinner Date. He definitely wanted to get to know her better. And judging by the way she had smiled, she wanted the same thing. Oh, Tessie was going to be happy.

“CASSIE, IT’S CLAUDIA. If you’re there, pick up.”

Normally Cassandra Carrigan didn’t answer her phone when she was in her studio, but she’d been having difficulty concentrating on her work all morning and the call was a distraction she welcomed. She set her paintbrush aside and reached for the telephone.

“I’m here. What’s up?” she asked, dispensing with the routine hello. She and Claudia had been friends far too long to worry about greetings.

“You have to quit flirting. You’re way too good at your job. I still have men calling from dinners you worked months ago.”

“I don’t flirt,” she said, smiling to herself. “I’m friendly.”

Claudia made a sound of disbelief. “You flirt and the guys love it. That’s why I’m always delighted when you say you’ll work a dinner. Tell me about Saturday night.”

“It was an interesting group,” she answered, even though her thoughts for the past two days had focused on only one interesting man in that group. Dr. Mac, the veterinarian.

He didn’t look like a vet. More like a stockbroker. Clean-cut. Intelligent brow, strong, determined nose that looked as if it may have once been broken. Wonderful smile with straight, even teeth. But it was his eyes that had caught Cassie’s attention. They were round with just a fraction of white visible below the dark iris, which showed he possessed great sensitivity.

Which she was certain he used to his advantage. He had used his charm on her and even she, with all her practice, had nearly fallen for it. She had a feeling, however, that he was just another good-looking guy looking for an ornament to dangle from his arm. She’d met quite a few of them through the dating service.

“Sounds as if everyone had a good time,” Claudia remarked.

“So you should be happy I did my job well,” she pointed out. “It’s what you want me to do, isn’t it? Keep the conversation going?”

“Yes, it is, and I know you can’t help but be your usual charming self, but this time three of the four men from Saturday night requested another meeting with you.”

“Three?” That was unusual. Maybe one or, sometimes on the rare occasion, two would request another date with her, but three? “You did tell them I don’t share their interest, right?”

“Of course I did and two of them understood, but there was one who refused to take no for an answer. He says you told him you wanted to see him again.”

“Now that I know I didn’t do,” she answered honestly. “And you know I didn’t, either. The only reason I attend the dinners is because I enjoy dining out and being with people who are interesting.”

Claudia sighed. “I don’t know how you do it, Cassie.”

“Do what?”

“Meet so many good-looking men and not get the least bit interested in any of them.”

“It’s just a job, Claudia.”

“But aren’t you even the least bit curious to hear who it is that wants to get to know you better?”

She was. The memory of Dr. Mac, the veterinarian, smiling into her face and telling her he liked a challenge popped into her head. Part of her wanted it to be him, the other part didn’t.

“I’m not interested in dating anyone. You know that.”

“I do, but I keep thinking that one of these times you’ll forget that you’re doing a job and simply enjoy yourself.”

“I do enjoy myself,” she insisted.

“So do you want to know which client won’t stop asking about you?”

Cassie groaned. “All right. Tell me.”

“It’s Michael the veterinarian.”

At the mention of his name, she felt a tiny shiver travel up and down her spine. “Oh, it was Dr. Mac,” she said more to herself than to her friend.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Maybe I did go a bit overboard with the flirting, but not once did I say I wanted to see him again. I told him what I tell all the men I meet—that if he’s interested he should contact you.”

“He took that as a yes.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought. “Then you’re going to have to convince him that it’s a no.”

“I tried to, but I didn’t have much luck. What did you do to the guy?”

“Do? I didn’t do anything,” she answered. It would have been more accurate to say that he had done something to her. Ever since Saturday night he’d been occupying her thoughts far too much of the time, which was one of the reasons for her lack of concentration this morning. In the two years she’d worked for the dating service she hadn’t met anyone who’d had that effect on her.

“What part of no doesn’t he understand?” she asked a bit impatiently.

“It’s nothing to get upset about,” Claudia said in a soothing tone. “I said he was persistent, not obsessive.”

She relaxed a bit. “You’re right. We only used our first names so it’s not like he can track me down, is it? And you’ve done background checks on all your clients.”

“That’s right. I just wanted to check with you before I throw a bucket of water on his ardor. He was rather cute, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure ‘cute’ is the right word,” she said evasively. “‘Charming’ would have been a better adjective. He’s a player.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I wonder why he was at the dinner. Players usually don’t need to use a dating service to find a companion.”

Claudia didn’t comment but asked, “Are you available for next Saturday?”

“Did he ask to attend another dinner with me?”

“Of course he asked, but you know I’d never do that. I wouldn’t do it to a client and I certainly wouldn’t do it to a friend.” There was indignation in her friend’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Claudia. I know you wouldn’t. Sure, I’m available next Saturday.”

They talked for another few minutes about matters totally unrelated to Dinner Date. By the time Cassie hung up the phone, she’d forgotten all about Dr. Mac.

Which was a good thing. The only reason she’d been able to accept the job with the dating service was because she truly could attend the dinners with a sense of detachment. She had no interest in meeting a suitable companion. No interest in dating. No interest in men.

A man like Dr. Mac had the potential of being able to change all of that. As she returned to her painting she was grateful that she’d never see him again.

“MOM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Michael asked when he stepped into examining room number four and saw Tessie sitting there.

“Cleo’s not well,” she answered, nodding toward the Abyssinian that sat curled up on her lap.

“She looks okay,” he observed, lifting the purring cat from her lap.

“Oh, but she’s not. She wouldn’t eat this morning,” she answered.

“Maybe she wasn’t hungry,” he said, placing Cleo on the examining table. “We all like to skip a meal now and then.”

“Speaking of meals…” Tessie took her place next to him and watched as he did a routine exam. “You didn’t call and let me know how the dinner went on Saturday.”

So that was the true reason for the visit to the clinic. “It was fine. Just as Cleo is fine now.”

“You’re sure?”

“About the dinner or Cleo?” he quipped.

She clicked her tongue. “I know you’re a good vet. If you say Cleo is fine, she’s fine. Did you enjoy yourself at the dinner?”

“As a matter of fact I did,” he answered, reaching for a cat treat.

He watched his mother’s eyes light up at the thought. She smiled smugly and said, “I knew you would.”

“They served the most wonderful coq au vin. You would have loved it. The mushroom sauce was exquisite, prepared just the way you like it. And they had those little baby carrots in a wine sauce and escargots…you know how much I like escargots.”

She fluttered her fingers nervously in midair. “I don’t care about the food. Tell me about the people. Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“There was a very nice engineer who’d worked on that new overpass on the interstate right outside of downtown, you know, the one that opened in April. He had some very interesting observations.”

Again her fingers flailed about in midair. “I don’t care about the men at the dinner, Michael. Tell me about the women.”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. They were nice.”

She frowned. “Is that all you can find to say about them? They were nice?”

“Actually, there was one who was very nice.” His mouth automatically split into a grin at the memory of Cassie the artist.

“Nice enough that you might have dinner with her again?”

He’d been debating whether or not he should tell her about Cassie the artist. Now that the opportunity had arrived, he decided the less said the better. “No. It was a very nice evening and I thank you.”

“But what about the four women? They didn’t share your interests?”

Again he thought of Cassie. “Not exactly,” he hedged. “Did you ever think that maybe none of them were attracted to me?”

Tessie gasped. “That’s impossible! Look at you. You’re the complete package.”

He couldn’t help but smile again, this time at her maternal defense of him. “Not everyone sees me through your eyes, Mom.”

“I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother. Ask any of the Mums, they’ll say the same thing.” She shook her head in bemusement. “What is wrong with the youth of today? When a handsome young man like you has trouble getting a date…”

“I can find a date,” he assured her.

She dismissed his comment with a flap of her hand. “You don’t need to pretend with me. I know that you spend a lot of your free time alone.”

Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t been completely honest with Tessie over the years. He wasn’t often without female companionship, yet Tessie was unaware of his love life. He’d deliberately kept it that way, because he hadn’t wanted her getting attached to any of the women in his life, because he knew none of them would last.

“Mom, there are other places to meet women than through a dating service,” he said gently.

“I know that, dear, but I had hoped that my gift would be a lasting one,” she said on a sigh. “You’re thirty-five, Michael, and I’m eighty-one. Time is running out.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “Now you stop your worrying. We have plenty of time—both of us. Your birthday gift was unique and I haven’t given up on finding a special lady.”

She pushed him away. “You haven’t?”

“No. If there’s someone out there for me, I’ll find her. You know that.”

“You always have loved a challenge, haven’t you?” she said with a knowing grin.

Yes, he did, and he didn’t consider this one to be over yet.

Chapter Three

“We’ll discuss old business first,” Louella Gibbons addressed the Mums gathered around Betty Jean’s dining room table. “We’ll start with Dr. Mac, since Tessie has to leave early for a dentist appointment.”

“Thank you, Lou.” Tessie rose to her feet, clearing her throat. “By now you all know we didn’t get the desired results we hoped for with Dinner Date.”

The chorus of groans indicated that everyone was as disappointed as Tessie.

“Maybe we should try another one?” Edith suggested.

Tessie shook her head. “It’s not cost-effective. We need another plan.”

“I agree,” Mildred spoke up. “We are better matchmakers than those dating services. I say we make up our own list of eligible young ladies and do our own matchmaking.”

Several comments supporting Mildred’s suggestion came at once.

Louella clapped her gavel. “One at a time, ladies, please.”

“I think Mildred’s right,” Agnes said. “That’s what we did for Francine’s granddaughter and look at those results.”

“She’s happily married and expecting a baby and all because we sent her on a blind date with Betty Jean’s cousin’s grandson,” Louella stated.

“But Michael refuses to go on a blind date,” Tessie pointed out.

“Then we’ll just have to get to know this girl ourselves and invite her to a Mum gathering that Michael plans to attend,” Edith stated simply, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to orchestrate.

“Do we have a young lady in mind?” Louella asked.

“I do,” Dorothy Sandberg said with a furtive twinkle in her eye. “Her name is…”

“IT IS AN HONOR to have such a beautiful display of art in our center.”

Cassie accepted the compliment graciously, smiling at the gray-haired gentleman. “I am the one who is honored, Emmet. I can’t think of a better place to exhibit my work.”

“But you could have gone to any of the galleries in town and had your opening. For you to allow us to show these beautiful portraits here…well, it is very good for the center.”

“And you have been good to me,” she acknowledged, appreciating the assistance the director of the senior citizen center had given her. From helping her find models to sit for her portraits to making the arrangements so that she could exhibit her work at the center, Emmet Sandberg had done everything he could to help her turn her dream into a reality.

“I’ve been looking at these pictures all morning and I still haven’t gotten tired of looking at them,” he told her, his eyes making another survey of the room.

The pictures he referred to were portraits sketched by Cassie. Eighteen pastels of married couples. Two sketches—one as newlyweds, the other as they currently were in the golden years of their marriages. She’d titled the exhibit “Everlasting Love.”

“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest compliments I could receive,” she said sincerely.

“Did you know that when you add up the total number of years all of these people have been married, it comes to exactly one thousand?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but said, “Dorothy figured it out.”

Dorothy was the woman in portrait number four, Emmet’s wife of fifty-one years. At first she had been a bit reticent about posing for Cassie, but after sitting down to coffee and doughnuts and discovering that Cassie’s grandmother had belonged to the same Sons of Norway lodge as Emmet and Dorothy, she’d become one of her staunchest supporters.

“You could have called this ‘A Millennium of Love,’” Emmet continued. “Wouldn’t that have been a great title?”

“It certainly would be accurate, wouldn’t it?” she answered. She didn’t tell him that Dorothy had suggested the very same thing and on more than one occasion. With all the hype that had preceded the turn of the century, Cassie hadn’t wanted to use the word millennium in connection with her work.

“These portraits aren’t just about numbers,” she told Emmet. “They’re about people who have worked hard to keep marriages intact through loss and suffering. The faces in these pictures have had great joy, but they’ve also lived through wars and economic hardship. And despite all the social and political turmoil of the past century, their love has lasted.”

“Ah, that is so true,” he said, a gnarly finger propped against his chin as he studied the portrait of a couple who’d been married seventy-two years. “With those colored chalks of yours, you tell so much. The love, the joy, the wisdom…it’s all there.” He took several steps to his left until he stood in front of his own portrait. “I mean, look at my Dorothy. When I look at the picture it’s almost as if I can hear her saying ‘Everything’s going to be all right, Emmet.’ You have a gift, Cassandra. You show the best of people.”

“I only draw what I see,” Cassie told him. “The emotions expressed here are not mine. I’m just the instrument for showing who these people really are, and each one is someone very special.”

“And I thank you for showing that to the world. Not many people would devote an entire exhibit of art to old people.”

“Well, I did, and I’m very glad that I took the time to get to know these wonderful married couples.” She spread her arms in an encompassing gesture. “They are my tribute to aging and to love that endures the test of time.”

She again surveyed the room, appreciating the lighting and the spacing of her portraits. Even though the center wasn’t an art gallery, the staff had constructed a very elegant and artistic display of her work. It reinforced her decision to have the opening at the center rather than in an art gallery.