Lady in Red
Valentine’s Day. Anne knew it was going to be bad, so she took extra pains with her wavy black hair and practiced a cheerful smile. She even put on her stylish red suit, the one that was supposed to make her feel confident and lucky.
So what if she’d broken up with her boyfriend? She was an independent woman and perfectly happy on her own.
Okay, so she could do confident. She didn’t feel lucky, though. Not one bit.
As she rode the bus to work, listening to the other riders enthuse about dinner plans, she tried not to feel envious. She reminded herself that Valentine’s Day was in fact the reason she had broken up with Peter. They’d been dating for six months and, while they got along all right, he’d never made her feel special. He’d always wanted them to spend time with his friends rather than be alone together. When he’d told her about the big Valentine’s Day party they’d been invited to, she’d finally realized he wasn’t the right man for her. Yes, she could have explained her feelings, and he might have agreed to a quiet dinner for two, but the truth was, he wouldn’t really have enjoyed it.
Valentine’s Day was for sweethearts—from ones who’d been happily married for decades, like her parents, to new ones who’d just met, whose smiles were full of hope and promise.
Peter didn’t fit anywhere on the sweetheart spectrum as far as she was concerned. Sad, because he was a perfectly nice guy. A woman would be lucky to have him. A woman who enjoyed being the life of the party more than she enjoyed sharing quiet moments with just one special man.
So, now she was manless again, and on the worst day of the year to be in that state. Oh well, better no man at all than the wrong one.
* * *
The office was buzzing with excitement and chat about everyone’s evening plans. Flowers and chocolates arrived, each delivery occasioning oohs and ahs .
That reminded her. Roger Jenkins, her partner at DJ Interior Design, was a real sweetie but as absentminded as they came.
She popped her head through his door, and he looked up from his computer. “Morning, Anne.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
His mouth formed an O . “Is it?”
She rolled her eyes. How could anyone be so oblivious? “You forgot?”
“Marilyn will kill me. But damn, I’m behind deadline on the quote for the Chamberlain Hotel. Could you possibly find something for her?” He gazed at her hopefully.
“Roger!”
“I’ll grovel, if you want. But we really don’t want to lose Chamberlain.”
She snorted. “You should be worrying more about losing your wife.”
“She’d never leave me. She says we’re soul mates. All the same, I wouldn’t want her feelings to be hurt.”
Anne groaned. How had this become her problem?
“Flowers and dinner out?” he asked in a wheedling tone.
“You don’t even have a dinner reservation? All the good places will be booked.”
“She’ll be really, really hurt. God, I feel terrible that I forgot. And the worst thing is, she always gets me something wonderful.”
He looked so pitiful, and Anne knew that the silly man loved his wife dearly, even if he was hopeless about remembering special occasions. “Oh, get back to the darned quote,” she said. “I’ll work something out. But you owe me, buddy.”
“I know, I know.” His face brightened. “Say, why don’t you buy yourself some flowers too?”
Flowers from her partner, as thanks for doing him a favor? No. If she couldn’t have romantic flowers from a man who adored her, she didn’t want any flowers at all.
First, she’d try her luck with the restaurant reservation. One of her favorite places had been closed for renovations, but she’d seen yesterday that they’d just reopened. Maybe the rest of the world hadn’t noticed yet.
Her hunch paid off, and she scored a window table. Roger was so going to be in her debt. Grinning at her coup, she headed to the florist.
She didn’t feel like grinning when
Valentine’s Day. Anne knew it was going to be bad, so she took extra pains with her wavy black hair and practiced a cheerful smile. She even put on her stylish red suit, the one that was supposed to make her feel confident and lucky.
So what if she’d broken up with her boyfriend? She was an independent woman and perfectly happy on her own.
Okay, so she could do confident. She didn’t feel lucky, though. Not one bit.
As she rode the bus to work, listening to the other riders enthuse about dinner plans, she tried not to feel envious. She reminded herself that Valentine’s Day was in fact the reason she had broken up with Peter. They’d been dating for six months and, while they got along all right, he’d never made her feel special. He’d always wanted them to spend time with his friends rather than be alone together. When he’d told her about the big Valentine’s Day party they’d been invited to, she’d finally realized he wasn’t the right man for her. Yes, she could have explained her feelings, and he might have agreed to a quiet dinner for two, but the truth was, he wouldn’t really have enjoyed it.
Valentine’s Day was for sweethearts—from ones who’d been happily married for decades, like her parents, to new ones who’d just met, whose smiles were full of hope and promise.
Peter didn’t fit anywhere on the sweetheart spectrum as far as she was concerned. Sad, because he was a perfectly nice guy. A woman would be lucky to have him. A woman who enjoyed being the life of the party more than she enjoyed sharing quiet moments with just one special man.
So, now she was manless again, and on the worst day of the year to be in that state. Oh well, better no man at all than the wrong one.
* * *
The office was buzzing with excitement and chat about everyone’s evening plans. Flowers and chocolates arrived, each delivery occasioning oohs and ahs .
That reminded her. Roger Jenkins, her partner at DJ Interior Design, was a real sweetie but as absentminded as they came.
She popped her head through his door, and he looked up from his computer. “Morning, Anne.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
His mouth formed an O . “Is it?”
She rolled her eyes. How could anyone be so oblivious? “You forgot?”
“Marilyn will kill me. But damn, I’m behind deadline on the quote for the Chamberlain Hotel. Could you possibly find something for her?” He gazed at her hopefully.
“Roger!”
“I’ll grovel, if you want. But we really don’t want to lose Chamberlain.”
She snorted. “You should be worrying more about losing your wife.”
“She’d never leave me. She says we’re soul mates. All the same, I wouldn’t want her feelings to be hurt.”
Anne groaned. How had this become her problem?
“Flowers and dinner out?” he asked in a wheedling tone.
“You don’t even have a dinner reservation? All the good places will be booked.”
“She’ll be really, really hurt. God, I feel terrible that I forgot. And the worst thing is, she always gets me something wonderful.”
He looked so pitiful, and Anne knew that the silly man loved his wife dearly, even if he was hopeless about remembering special occasions. “Oh, get back to the darned quote,” she said. “I’ll work something out. But you owe me, buddy.”
“I know, I know.” His face brightened. “Say, why don’t you buy yourself some flowers too?”
Flowers from her partner, as thanks for doing him a favor? No. If she couldn’t have romantic flowers from a man who adored her, she didn’t want any flowers at all.
First, she’d try her luck with the restaurant reservation. One of her favorite places had been closed for renovations, but she’d seen yesterday that they’d just reopened. Maybe the rest of the world hadn’t noticed yet.
Her hunch paid off, and she scored a window table. Roger was so going to be in her debt. Grinning at her coup, she headed to the florist.
She didn’t feel like grinning when
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