“You aren’t going to call Lucie?” Josie demanded, sipping coffee from the disposable cup as they headed toward the subway station the following morning. “You’re going to make her call you?”
Aren knew Josie couldn’t possibly understand the dilemma he was in; well, then again, maybe she did. He had his pride, which was something his sister should understand. After all, it was pride that kept her from contacting Jack, even though Aren strongly suspected his sister was still in love with her former fiancé. She had been stingy with information as to what exactly had gone wrong. Although he was fairly certain it had something to do with the wedding, a disagreement, probably something silly, that had quickly escalated. Apparently it had grown to the point that they were convinced, one or the other, that marriage wasn’t such a good idea after all. Following that, it made sense to assume they decided continuing their relationship wouldn’t work either. Nerves stretched to the limit over a wedding and now Josie was alone and unhappy. Well, Aren and his sister made a great team, supporting each other in their misery.
His own relationship with Lucie was complicated and getting more so by the minute. It’d all seemed so perfect, innocent even, back on New Year’s Eve. Now, with him working for the Gazette and Lucie part owner of the restaurant he’d reviewed, the possibility of him developing this relationship became that much more difficult.
“She’ll be a fool if she doesn’t contact you.”
Aren and his sister had always been close. Every morning they walked to the subway together. He’d found an apartment close to Josie’s and they met for coffee, carrying it with them as they headed toward their respective jobs.
“Maybe she wouldn’t be such a fool.” Aren had spent a sleepless night mulling over the impossibility of his situation. For one thing, he’d had a complete change of heart when it came to Heavenly Delights. Three hundred patrons hadn’t been wrong. Dinner was a delight and the desserts afterward had been heavenly. His opinion had made a complete turnaround from his previous visit. This time it had earned its name. He’d told the managing editor he intended to write another review, and he would. Furthermore, his change of heart had nothing to do with his feelings toward the chef.
“By the way, is there any chance you can get tickets for Angels at Christmas?” Josie asked.
Naturally his sister would ask about the hottest musical on Broadway. Tickets had been sold out months in advance. And with Christmas approaching they were impossible to find. “Yeah, right.”
“Well, you just might. The newspaper has connections, doesn’t it? It’s just a matter of knowing the right people.”
Aren snickered. As a recent hiree, he had little chance of getting tickets. He’d let Josie dream away. Aren enjoyed his sister’s company, but if he took anyone to see a musical it would be Lucie; that is, if she wanted to see him again.
Following his divorce Aren hadn’t leaped back into the dating world and noticed that Josie hadn’t either, although she was quick to egg him on. Deep down Aren supposed his sister needed to see him willing to risk his heart again before she felt comfortable doing so herself. Brother and sister made a terrific dysfunctional team.
“Let me know what you find out,” Josie murmured as she headed down to her train. “And if you do manage to get those tickets, ask Lucie.”
Aren frowned. “I thought you wanted to go?”
“I will someday. I was just thinking it was an invitation Lucie wouldn’t be able to turn down. I’ve heard that Angels at Christmas is an incredible musical.”
“Don’t hold your breath, okay?” He hated giving his thoughts away, and Lucie had definitely been heavy on his mind.
She gave him a cheery wave and was off.
Aren went to another track to catch his train and then walked the few blocks to the newspaper building. He dropped his backpack off at his desk and headed directly to Sandy’s office.
The managing editor sat at her computer and glanced up when he knocked against the door frame. Looking at him above the glasses perched on the end of her nose, Sandy lifted her hands from the keyboard and swiveled her chair around. “You had dinner at Heavenly Delights?”
He nodded, stuffing the tips of his fingers in his jean pockets.
“And?”
“It was terrific.”
She arched her brows as though pleasantly surprised. “So you had a change of heart.”
He admitted as much. “I can’t account for what happened the first time around. My sister was with me and her meal seemed to be just fine. Mine was a disaster.”
“But not this time?”
“No, the sole was fabulous in every way.” And in ways he hadn’t expected that had nothing to do with the menu items.
“Good. Write your piece and we’ll publish it in this evening’s edition. That should make those supporters of the restaurant happy.” As she spoke, his editor turned back to face her computer screen.
“Sandy,” Aren said, remaining standing in the doorway to her office.
She looked his way, frowning with impatience. “Now what?”
“I can’t write the review.”
“Why not?” she demanded shortly, clearly irritated with him.
“I met the chef and I know her.”
“Did that influence your opinion?”
“No.”
“Then write the review.”
“I’d like nothing better. However …”
She removed her glasses and glared up at him. “What’s your problem, Fairchild?”
“I want to date the chef,” he blurted out.
Sandy frowned and turned back to her computer again. “So date her. She doesn’t need to know you’re Eaton Well.”
Aren was stunned. Not knowing what to expect from his admission, his mind started to spin with happy anticipation.
“Are you still here?” Sandy blurted out.
“Thanks, Sandy, really, I mean it. This is great news.” Aren’s heart was lighter than it’d been in months.
On his way in to talk to Sandy, he’d wondered what she’d say about him wanting to date Lucie. Now it felt as if the weight of ten dump trucks had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sandy glanced his way again. “Why are you still here?”
“No … no reason … I’m on my way to my desk to write the finest restaurant review you’ve ever published.”
“Then get to it,” she muttered gruffly.
No sooner had he sat down at his computer than his cellphone buzzed. Distracted, Aren looked at it, didn’t recognize the number, and let whoever was on the other end of the line talk to his voice mail. He was about halfway through his review, which literally seemed to be writing itself, when Norm Lockett stopped by his cubicle. Norm did the reviews for Broadway shows.
“Norm,” Aren called out, stopping him. “Can I ask a favor?”
“What do you need, kid?”
Aren stood. Norm was thirty years his senior and well liked by everyone. “Is there a possibility of getting tickets for Angels at Christmas?” It wouldn’t do any harm to ask.
Norm grinned and slapped him across the back. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Norm, I appreciate it.” Then, because he thought it might help, Aren added, “I don’t suppose you heard Doris Roberts is coming in to replace the lead in Angels at Christmas?”
“I did.”
The story had hit a few days earlier. Betty White had come down with a nasty cold and needed a break.
“I could write a short piece about Doris taking over the role,” Aren offered.
“No need,” Norm said and slapped him across the back a second time. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”
“Thanks,” Aren said. “That would be great.”
He returned to his cubicle and was absorbed in his writing when Norm returned. “This is your lucky day.”
“You got tickets?”
“Two for next Thursday night.”
Aren didn’t care what night it was. “Thanks. You’re the best.” Aren was so pleased to get the tickets that he hadn’t even bothered to check his own schedule. Once he did, he discovered he had another restaurant review arranged for the same night. Dinner and a show. He could hardly believe his luck. Heaven was looking favorably down on him this fine December day. It would be even better if Lucie contacted him. If not, then he’d take his sister.
Norm returned to his cubicle and Aren went back to writing the review for Heavenly Delights. The words flowed effortlessly and he was humming right along when he paused mid-word. A thought struck him. The call he’d sent to voice mail earlier might have been Lucie.
Grabbing his cell, he played back the message. Sure enough, just as he’d suspected.
“Hello, Aren, this is Lucie. Mom said she explained why I didn’t meet you last January. I’m sorry you were left waiting. I’m hoping that you’d be willing to give me another chance. If you are, then give me a call, and if not … well, I understand.” Her voice dipped with dread or disappointment, Aren didn’t know which.
He couldn’t push the button fast enough to call her back.
She answered with, “This is Lucie.”
“Aren,” he supplied, but before he could get another word out, Lucie started jabbering away.
“Oh, Aren, you got my call. Obviously you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be phoning me. I sound completely redundant, don’t I? It’s just that I’m so very pleased to hear from you.” She paused as if embarrassed at how fast she’d spoken. “I’ll shut up and let you talk now.”
Aren smiled and a warm happiness settled over him. “You can keep talking as long as you like. I like the sound of your voice.”
“You do?”
“It’s providential that we should meet after all these months, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes … and providential is the perfect word, but then you work with words, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Mom said you were writing for the paper. I’d looked for your name—”
“I’m not exactly their ace reporter.”
“No, but you’re a wonderful writer … at least I think you must be, even if I haven’t read anything you’ve written.”
Actually, she had read one of his most significant pieces—his review of her restaurant. But Aren couldn’t tell her that, his contract at the paper stated as much and the managing editor had taken pains to remind him. Even if he was able, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to end a promising relationship when it was just getting started.
Using this opportunity to change the subject he said, “I called because I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner and a show next week. I have two tickets to Angels at Christmas next Thursday.”
“Angels at Christmas! I heard it was impossible to get tickets for that musical.”
“I have two.”
“But, oh dear, I … don’t think I can. I’m cooking at the restaurant in the evenings.”
Of course she was. Aren couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that one key element. “Naturally you’d be working; I was so excited about the tickets I completely forgot.”
“Thursday night you say?” The question was followed by a short hesitation. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what night it is because I’m taking it off. We have a really wonderful sous-chef who can cover for me. I attended culinary school with Catherine—she’s really good. My mother’s been after me to take a break and this is important. Not to the world in general important, but important to me. Oh heaven, I’m doing it again. I probably don’t make any sense whatsoever, do I?”
“Amazingly, you do.” Aren’s grin was so wide it hurt his face. “I’ll see you next week then.”
“Okay. Will you call me with the time or should I phone you?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Wonderful. Thank you for calling me back, Aren.”
He should be the one thanking her. They said their farewells and Aren felt like he could climb a mountain. Returning to the task at hand, he waited a few minutes and then reached for his phone to contact his sister.
Josie answered almost immediately. She worked on Wall Street for a large brokerage firm.
“I have good news, good news, and bad news.”
“Do tell.”
“I heard from Lucie.” He could have tried to play it cool, but his sister knew him far too well. She’d read through his blasé attitude in one second flat. Fooling Josie would be near impossible; consequently he didn’t even try.
“She called already?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”
“Yup. That’s the good news and the bad news.”
“Explain yourself, little brother.”
“I’m taking her to dinner and a show.”
“Wow, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet. Which show?”
“That’s the bad news.”
A short hesitation followed. “Don’t tell me … you have tickets to Angels at Christmas?”
“I do.”
“Aww, man.”
“Don’t hate me,” Aren teased. “I have other good news, too, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“You might as well kick me harder. I suppose they’re orchestra seats.” She laughed and Aren knew she was happy that Lucie had agreed to go with him.
“As far as I’m concerned they could be in the nosebleed section and I wouldn’t care. My third bit of good news is that I talked to my boss and Sandy said it would be fine for me to write the review for Heavenly Delights, and retract my previous one.”
“Well, duh, of course you should.”
“I feared it might be considered a conflict of interest, but Sandy basically said not to worry about it as long as I don’t reveal my identity.”
“Good … but does Lucie or her mother know you’re the one who wrote the initial review, panning the restaurant?”
“No.”
“No? Aren, this could come back to bite you.”
“I’ll tell her when the time is right. I don’t want to hide it from her but my contract states that I can’t let anyone know my identity outside of family. Besides, Lucie and I just reconnected.”
“And you don’t want to upset the proverbial apple cart.”
“Something like that,” he admitted. In his mind he had the perfect excuse.
“Oh, Aren, promise me you won’t keep it a secret for long.”
“Josie, I’m under contract. I could lose my job if I tell her I’m writing as Eaton Well.”
“There are ways you can do it without saying it directly, you know.”
“Maybe,” he countered. “But it’s too soon.”
“Okay, I agree with you there, but I’m afraid this is going to hang over your head like a giant water balloon, threatening to burst at any moment.”
“I’ll find the right time,” he promised. “But not until I can figure out a way to do it without actually telling her and until we’ve had a chance to get to know each other better. Agreed?”
“Okay, but don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“I won’t.” This would be tricky, but he’d look for a way, and for a time when it was right.
“Get a load of those angels on stage,” Mercy muttered, shaking her head in exasperation. “Apparently this is humanity’s idea of what we look like. Oh dear, these poor people don’t have a clue.”
Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy, along with Will, sat in the box seat section of the Broadway theater and found themselves highly amused by the musical. After strict instructions from Gabriel they knew better than to interfere with the budding romance between Lucie and Aren. This was a hands-off assignment.
Still, Mercy kept a close eye on the two. They had great seats about ten rows back in the orchestra section and seemed to be enjoying the musical immensely. Every now and again their heads would come together and they’d exchange whispers. Mercy had a bit of a romantic streak and it seemed the couple was perfect together. Her heart swelled with appreciation when shortly after the musical started Aren reached for Lucie’s hand and she smiled ever so sweetly up at him. It was the most romantic moment Mercy had seen in a very long while.
When Mercy’s gaze wandered back to her friends, she froze as an odd sensation went through her.
Goodness had disappeared.
“Where’s Goodness?” she whispered, fighting down dread.
Shirley shrugged, apparently caught up in what was happening on stage.
“Will, have you seen Goodness?” she asked, hoping to hide the panic in her voice.
Their young charge seemed to find the antics on stage highly amusing, and he answered with a shake of his head.
Mercy frantically glanced around and soon saw that her worst fears were about to take place. Goodness was on stage with the actors. Not knowing what else to do, and intent on avoiding another disaster, Mercy quickly joined her friend, grabbing Goodness by the arm. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“These actors don’t know anything about angels or how we behave. Their costumes are a joke.”
Oh dear, it was worse than she thought. “Goodness, don’t even think about it.”
“I just want to ruffle their feathers a little, make them a bit more presentable. Gabriel would want that.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Shirley chimed in. The three of them bounced around the stage, flittering from one part to another, avoiding the actors.
“What’s that?” Will asked, joining them.
“What’s what?”
“That man. He’s playing some sort of musical instrument.”
“It’s a tuba, now go back where we were,” Mercy instructed.
All at once one of the stage angels let out a screech as she was suspended two feet off the ground. “Goodness, mercy,” the actor cried, frantically flapping her arms.
“She knows our names,” Shirley said, aghast.
“Put her down,” Mercy pleaded, and quickly amended. “Gently, please.”
The actor’s feet gradually returned to the stage and almost immediately three other stage angels were elevated. Not knowing what was happening, the other actors, obviously skilled professionals, continued with their lines as if nothing were amiss, craning their necks in order to look up at the actors whose feet were scrambling and arms flapping. Apparently the audience took it all in their stride, laughing uproariously. Those viewing the show seemed to believe this was part and parcel of the program, which was a play within a play.
The main characters had attended a Christmas program in which the children reenacted the Nativity scene. The angels, all actors, played major roles, directing the children. Now Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy caused near pandemonium with the stage crew shrugging their shoulders, running onto the stage, and looking up for some nonexistent hidden wire.
While Mercy argued with Goodness, sensible Shirley had apparently lost her head and decided this was her moment to shine. Mercy couldn’t believe her eyes when her fellow Prayer Ambassador broke into song along with the small children’s choir.
Seeing that it was a lost cause, Mercy gave up and joined her friend, singing one of their favorite Christmas carols. Everyone on stage froze and stared at the children and for one short moment, Mercy feared they were about to be discovered.
“I think it’s time we go now,” Will said, tugging at Shirley’s sleeve.
“Oh dear, you might be right,” Shirley said, seemingly coming to her senses.
“I’d like to try playing that tuba before we go,” Will said, heading for the orchestra pit.
Goodness grabbed Will and hauled him back.
“Not now,” Mercy pleaded, ushering the other three off the stage. “We need to get while the getting is good.”
Oh dear, this was going badly.
“What about Lucie and Aren?” Will protested as they made their way back to heaven. “Can we just leave them behind?”
“We don’t have any choice now.” Mercy wasn’t sure how everything had gotten out of hand like this, but it was beyond redemption now. Oh, she should have known, should have guessed, that seeing angels on stage would be too much temptation for them. They left the theater and Mercy had started to relax when she heard Shirley screech. “Goodness! Put the camel back before anyone notices it’s missing.”
Mercy looked back and gasped. Sure enough her dear friend had stolen the camel that was tethered backstage and was leading him down the street.
Yup, they were beyond redemption. All Mercy could hope was that heaven didn’t hear about this until much, much later.
“What did you think of the musical?” Aren asked Lucie as they slowly made their way out of the theater.
It was difficult for her to hear him above the excited chatter of the crowd. Everyone was talking about the performance. Lucie overheard someone say that they’d seen the same play earlier and that she really liked the additional comedic changes.
“I thought it was amazing … simply amazing.”
“I did, too,” Aren agreed.
Once outside, he helped Lucie on with her coat and then buttoned his own. He reached for her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. It was a cold night, which gave Lucie a good excuse to stay close to Aren. The lights in the city over the holidays seemed to glow a little brighter. Everything felt so perfect, so wonderful. Although she’d known Aren only a short while, it seemed that he’d always been in her life. Never having experienced that kind of connection with a man before, Lucie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found the man she could love with the same intensity as the love her parents had shared.
“I’m still trying to figure out how they managed to elevate the angels,” Aren remarked, frowning as he spoke. “Usually I can see the wires, and we were close enough to get a good look, but I didn’t see any.”
“The children’s singing was … unbelievable.”
“I’m going to download the music as soon as I get home. It was …” Aren seemed to be searching for the right word.
“Angelic,” Lucie supplied. Their shoulders touched as they walked, arm in arm. “I had the most wonderful evening. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Aren grinned and wrapped his hand around hers in the crook of his elbow. “We’re not finished yet.”
“We’re not?”
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved.” Lucie had gotten up extra early that morning to bake and get everything ready at the restaurant so she could leave for the night in good conscience. It’d been tempting to phone in and make sure everything was going okay. But her mother had discouraged that. Wendy wanted Lucie to forget about the restaurant for one night and enjoy herself. Lucie didn’t think it was possible, but she was wrong. When she was with Aren it felt as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I know it’s late but I made dinner reservations.”
They walked past Rockefeller Center and paused to admire the lights on the Christmas tree and gaze at the skaters circling the ice. Unable to resist, Lucie pressed her head against Aren’s shoulder.
“Tired?”
She should be, but she wasn’t. “No, just happy, so happy.”
“I am, too. I didn’t think it was possible to find you again.”
“I didn’t either. I’d given up hope.”
They continued walking, their pace slow and easy until they arrived at the restaurant, which carried the name of a well-known television chef. Lucie couldn’t help being impressed.
“How did you manage this along with the theater tickets to the hottest show in town?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I pulled a few strings.”
“I’ve heard so much about the food here. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Good, this is my first experience, too.”
Now she understood why he’d chosen to eat so late. This was probably the only time he could get a reservation. From everything Lucie had heard, the restaurant was booked months in advance. It was next to impossible to get in during the holidays. Lucie could only speculate as to how many favors Aren would owe for this night. Certainly she would long remember this evening.
After they were seated they waited several minutes before the menus were delivered. Lucie caught Aren’s eye. “Mom would never let that happen,” she whispered.
“Oh?”
“Waiting for the menus. She’d be on that right away.”
Aren grinned and opened the elaborately framed menu. A gold tassel dangled at the bottom.
After giving them more than ample time to study the meal selections the waiter returned and recited the evening’s specials in elaborate detail, mentioning the country of origin for the herbs and spices and every nuance of each particular dish. Because it was late in the evening they’d sold out of the appetizer and had only one of the special entrées left.
Again Lucie had trouble hiding a frown. “Why mention the specials at all if they aren’t available? All those details didn’t make the dish sound more appealing. He made me feel it should be placed in a museum to be admired.”
“I agree,” Aren said, chuckling softly.
Lucie ordered the Chilean sea bass and Aren asked for cheese stuffed chilies. Once served, the food was as much a disappointment as the service had been.
“Well, what do you think?” Aren asked after she’d taken her first bite. “Does this restaurant live up to its reputation?”
Lucie set her fork aside and weighed whether she should speak her mind or not. Being in the restaurant business herself, she suspected she was being overly critical. Aren had gone to a lot of trouble to get this reservation, but she could see he wasn’t enjoying his dinner either. “Do you want the truth?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“The fact is I’m disappointed, but take that with a grain of salt. I know a lot about running a restaurant. My fish was overcooked, the sauce has no flavor, and the vegetables have had the very life boiled out of them. This is what drives me crazy.”
“Oh?”
“We had a food critic visit our restaurant who lambasted my cooking. He or she was cruel and mean and I’m telling you right now, I’ll put every dish I serve up against this restaurant’s any day of the week.”
Aren stared across the table at her with his fork frozen in midair.
Lucie should have taken that as a sign to stop talking, but once she got started she couldn’t seem to stop. “What upsets me is that this very same food critic would probably give this restaurant high marks. I mean, Eaton Well must have reviewed the meals here for it to have such a fabulous reputation. That just goes to show you the critic doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She bit down on her lip, recognizing that she’d probably said far too much. Every time she thought about Eaton Well and his unfair and cutting review, Lucie’s blood boiled. Because she felt she had to, Lucie added, “I know he works for the same newspaper as you, and if he’s a friend then I apologize. It’s just that he did me wrong and I don’t know that I could ever forgive what he said about Heavenly Delights.”
Aren continued to stare at her as if he didn’t know what to say. Lucie tried again, fearing she’d ruined their evening with her tirade. “Forgive me, please,” she murmured, smoothing out the linen napkin in her lap. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the review. As you might have guessed I’m still upset about it.”
Aren reached for his coffee, which had grown cold by now. “From what your mother said, your loyal customers were quick to come to your defense.”
“Yes, thank heaven. Without them we might have been ruined. We could have lost everything because of one negative review.”
Aren returned the cup to the saucer and leaned back, but she could see that he wasn’t relaxed. “There was a second review, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, a retraction. Apparently good ol’ Eaton Well was forced into giving the restaurant a second chance.”
“Was his second review fair?”
“I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “Still, I’d like to meet the man just so I could give that jerk a piece of my mind.”
“Jerk?”
“Well, in my mind he is. Why is it people have to be so cutting and heartless? The things he said were completely unnecessary. Do these writers honestly think they’re being witty? Don’t they realize people’s livelihoods are at stake?”
“I’m sure everything will work out in the end.”
“I hope so.”
To her surprise Aren ordered a dessert tray with small selections of a number of desserts. Lucie sampled a taste of a couple of the ones she thought sounded appealing—the banana cream cake and the raspberry sorbet. Both were adequate but nothing to rave about.
“Your desserts taste far better.”
She beamed with his praise and silently agreed with him. As it was she’d already said far too much about the food and the service. “Thank you.”
Aren paid the bill, which to Lucie’s way of thinking was outlandish for what they’d received. As they left the restaurant, he seemed more subdued than earlier. Perhaps, like her, his day had been long and he was tired. It was late and they both had to work in the morning.
“Tell you what,” she said as they strolled down the street. “Let me cook you a real dinner. This one was a disappointment and I’d like to treat you to one of my meals created especially for you.”
Aren glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m not turning this down.”
“Good. Would Sunday afternoon work for you?” Already her mind buzzed with ideas. Cooking was an emotional experience and Lucie found it easier to express her feelings through food than with words. Dinner would be her way of letting Aren know how much she enjoyed his company and how very grateful she was that they’d reconnected.
“Sunday will work out just fine.”
“Great. Come to my apartment about four … if that’s not too early.”
“It’s perfect.”
Aren stopped walking and signaled for a taxi.
“I had the most wonderful evening,” she said, knowing their time was about to come to an end. “Thank you, Aren, for everything.”
A cab pulled up to the curb. Aren opened the passenger door and Lucie instinctively rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. She’d waited a long time for this, wondering if the kiss she remembered on New Year’s nearly a year ago would measure up.
Aren gripped her by the shoulders and slanted his mouth over hers.
Oh, it was good, as good as she remembered, perhaps even better. She wanted to melt into his arms, and resisted the urge to wrap herself all around him, feet and hands, arms and legs.
“Hey, you two,” the cabbie called out, “I don’t have all night.”
Lucie tasted Aren’s reluctance as he gradually released her. “We’ll talk before Sunday, okay?”
“Of course.”
He looked so serious, even deeply troubled, but Lucie couldn’t imagine what it might be. The evening had been nearly perfect … other than the dinner, but that wasn’t Aren’s fault.
Once she was inside the cab, Aren stepped back and lifted his hand in farewell.
Pressing her fingers to her lips, she set her hand against the window as the cabbie drove off.