An Engagement in Seattle - Debbie Macomber [82]
“As well he should.”
“I knew I was making a mistake, but I withdrew the request.” Lesley wasn’t sure why she was discussing her broken engagement, especially with a stranger. It felt better to speak of it somehow, to lift some of the weight of her unhappiness.
Lesley lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry to burden you with this,” she said in a calmer tone.
“No, you needed to talk and I’m honored that you told me. I mean that. Have you been seeing anyone since?”
“No.” Lesley sliced off a bite of her pie. “Lately I find myself feeling cynical about relationships. I’m almost convinced love, marriage and all that simply aren’t worth the effort—although I would like children someday,” she added thoughtfully.
“Cynical, huh? Does that mean you don’t date at all? Not ever?”
“I don’t date and I don’t intend to for a long time. I’m not feeling very sympathetic toward men, either. On the way to the store just now, I saw the most ridiculous billboard. Some guy’s advertising for a bride, and instead of feeling sorry for him, I laughed.”
“Why would you feel sorry for the guy?” Chase asked. He’d already finished his pie and was cradling the ceramic mug of coffee with both hands.
“Think about it. What kind of man advertises for a wife? One who’s old and ugly and desperate, right?”
“What makes you say that?”
“If he can’t find a wife any other way, there must be something wrong with him. If that isn’t cause for sympathy I don’t know what is.”
“You think the women who respond will be old and ugly, as well?” Chase asked, frowning. “And desperate?”
“Heavens, I wouldn’t know. I don’t understand men. I’ve tried, but I seem to be missing something. Tony was the only man I ever considered marrying and…well, I’ve already told you what happened to that relationship.”
“In other words, you’d never think of dating a man who advertised for a wife?” Chase asked.
“Never,” she assured him emphatically. “But my guess is that he’ll get plenty of takers.”
“The old coot’s probably lonely and looking for a little female companionship,” Chase supplied.
“Exactly,” she agreed, smiling as she mentally envisioned the man who was so desperate he’d advertise for a wife. “Like I said, I couldn’t even feel a little empathy for the guy. That’s how cynical I am now.”
“Yes, you told me you laughed.” He paused. “You think other women will laugh, too?”
Lesley shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps.” Women like herself, maybe. The jaded and emotionally crippled ones.
“How long will you be in town?” she asked, deciding to change the subject. This conversation was becoming uncomfortable—and it wasn’t revealing her in the best light.
“Another two and a half weeks. I can’t take city living much longer than that. The noise gets to me.”
“You’ve been to Seattle before?”
“I come every year about this time. I generally visit the Pacific Northwest but I’m partial to San Francisco, too. By the end of my vacation I’m more than ready to return to the tundra.”
“I’ve heard Alaska is very beautiful,” Lesley said conversationally.
“There’s a peace there, an untouched beauty that never fails to reach me. I’ve lived there all my life and it still fascinates me.”
Lesley was mesmerized by his words and the serenity she sensed in him. “What town are you from?”
“It’s a little place in the northern part of the state called Twin Creeks. I doubt you’ve heard of it. I won’t kid you—the winters are harsh, and there isn’t a lot to do for entertainment. By mid-December daylight’s counted in minutes, not hours. By contrast, the sun’s out well past midnight at this time of the year.”
“Other than your job, how do you occupy yourself in the dead of winter?” It fascinated her that someone would actually choose to live in such an extreme environment.
“Read and study mostly. I do a bit of writing now and then.”
“I guess you’ve got all the peace and quiet you need for that.”
“I do,” he said. “In fact, sometimes a little too much…”
They’d both finished their pie and coffee and the waitress returned to offer refills. Lesley