pretty strange?”
“More like they just accepted that we were different and amused that we thought we were superior to them. Almost a little smug about it?”
Today was Margaret’s first real test drive. She drifted back toward the outdoor café in carefully picked clothes, ones she knew would get the attention she wanted, without going overboard. Her walk alone would have been enough.
She had always moved with a seductive sway, a subtle movement of her hips that really was caused by the way she was put together. She had never learned it, nor practiced it. It was just the way she walked. The effect was entirely feminine. And it drove men crazy. Heads would turn when she walked into the room. Every head would swivel to watch her leave. On board her Pan Am flights, she would be summoned for countless beverages just so the passengers could watch her walk away, back to the front of the plane.
He watched from behind his newspaper as she slid into a chair a few feet away. Since their first flirtatious near-encounter a few weeks ago, he had seen her around the village a number of times. He had come, looking for her.
Ted Fletcher was too good-looking. Women tended to give him a hard time because of this and it made it hard to get beyond game-playing. At 31, he was beginning to become desperate about finding a mate, a mother for the family he now wanted more than anything. He had been close a couple of times.
Right after college, there had been Sharon, whom he loved completely and unquestioningly. By any reckoning she was not a pretty young woman, but everyone who knew her thought of her as physically beautiful. It was an illusion created by her boundless zest and energy.
They were planning marriage when her father dropped the bomb. If she married Ted, he would disown and disinherit her. He had nothing against the young man, but rather, Ted’s father, who had, years ago, blown the whistle on his stock market manipulations, nearly ruining him. Sharon rejected his threats at first, but eventually caved in. “I can’t choose you over my father. He raised me since my mother died. I can’t lose him now.” It took Ted two years to get over her. But he noticed one day that the anguish that had filled him was gone. For a long time he had been certain that it would never relent, that he would drag himself through the rest of his life a sad remnant of his former, vital self. But day-by-day it had ebbed unnoticeably until it reached the vanishing point.
Claire had been an easier ending because it was nobody’s fault. They had meet in London where she was a struggling actress with some promise, still learning the craft. They had mutual acquaintances that repeatedly tried to fix them up. He held them off for several months, thinking she wouldn’t really be interested in someone as unartistic as he. But when they finally met at a party, he was captured by her absolute attention to him. She locked in on Ted like radar, oblivious of everyone around them. There had never been anyone who listened so intently, drew him out, engaged him so totally. Within weeks he was revealing everything of himself to her with abandon.
She came to the states later that year, moving in with him and planning a life. Two years later her mother became desperately ill and Claire returned to London to care for her. They tried to maintain a long-distance relationship, but her mother would need years of care. After 18 months Ted and Claire gave up and let each other go.
Now he eased out of his chair and walked to Margaret’s table. He stood before her as she squinted at the menu. “Could I have a couple more minutes? Don’t really know what I want.” Then she looked up and saw that he wasn’t the waiter. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yeah, it’s me alright. I have those name tapes in my clothes, and I could check to be absolutely certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s me.”
“Well good. Maybe we should just start again. I’m Margaret Mann, Maggie.
“More like they just accepted that we were different and amused that we thought we were superior to them. Almost a little smug about it?”
Today was Margaret’s first real test drive. She drifted back toward the outdoor café in carefully picked clothes, ones she knew would get the attention she wanted, without going overboard. Her walk alone would have been enough.
She had always moved with a seductive sway, a subtle movement of her hips that really was caused by the way she was put together. She had never learned it, nor practiced it. It was just the way she walked. The effect was entirely feminine. And it drove men crazy. Heads would turn when she walked into the room. Every head would swivel to watch her leave. On board her Pan Am flights, she would be summoned for countless beverages just so the passengers could watch her walk away, back to the front of the plane.
He watched from behind his newspaper as she slid into a chair a few feet away. Since their first flirtatious near-encounter a few weeks ago, he had seen her around the village a number of times. He had come, looking for her.
Ted Fletcher was too good-looking. Women tended to give him a hard time because of this and it made it hard to get beyond game-playing. At 31, he was beginning to become desperate about finding a mate, a mother for the family he now wanted more than anything. He had been close a couple of times.
Right after college, there had been Sharon, whom he loved completely and unquestioningly. By any reckoning she was not a pretty young woman, but everyone who knew her thought of her as physically beautiful. It was an illusion created by her boundless zest and energy.
They were planning marriage when her father dropped the bomb. If she married Ted, he would disown and disinherit her. He had nothing against the young man, but rather, Ted’s father, who had, years ago, blown the whistle on his stock market manipulations, nearly ruining him. Sharon rejected his threats at first, but eventually caved in. “I can’t choose you over my father. He raised me since my mother died. I can’t lose him now.” It took Ted two years to get over her. But he noticed one day that the anguish that had filled him was gone. For a long time he had been certain that it would never relent, that he would drag himself through the rest of his life a sad remnant of his former, vital self. But day-by-day it had ebbed unnoticeably until it reached the vanishing point.
Claire had been an easier ending because it was nobody’s fault. They had meet in London where she was a struggling actress with some promise, still learning the craft. They had mutual acquaintances that repeatedly tried to fix them up. He held them off for several months, thinking she wouldn’t really be interested in someone as unartistic as he. But when they finally met at a party, he was captured by her absolute attention to him. She locked in on Ted like radar, oblivious of everyone around them. There had never been anyone who listened so intently, drew him out, engaged him so totally. Within weeks he was revealing everything of himself to her with abandon.
She came to the states later that year, moving in with him and planning a life. Two years later her mother became desperately ill and Claire returned to London to care for her. They tried to maintain a long-distance relationship, but her mother would need years of care. After 18 months Ted and Claire gave up and let each other go.
Now he eased out of his chair and walked to Margaret’s table. He stood before her as she squinted at the menu. “Could I have a couple more minutes? Don’t really know what I want.” Then she looked up and saw that he wasn’t the waiter. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yeah, it’s me alright. I have those name tapes in my clothes, and I could check to be absolutely certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s me.”
“Well good. Maybe we should just start again. I’m Margaret Mann, Maggie.
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