An Engagement in Seattle

Nonetheless, he wanted to develop a relationship with Lesley, but he was worried. Lesley was vulnerable and hurting just now. If he romanced her, even convinced her to marry him, he’d never be certain he hadn’t taken advantage of her and her battered heart. Even worse, she might feel he had. Regardless, nothing could dampen his anticipation of their evening together. That was all he wanted. One evening, and then he’d be better able to judge. Afterward he could decide what he was going to do. If anything.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chase reached for the TV remote and turned up the volume, hoping the newscaster would take his mind off the woman who attracted him so strongly. Not that it was likely. Not with that swift emotional kick he’d felt the minute he saw her.

“Hiya, doll,” Daisy Sullivan said, letting herself into Lesley’s place after knocking a couple of times. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Daisy lived in the house adjacent to Lesley’s rental and had become one of her best friends.

“Sit down,” Lesley said, aiming an earring toward her left ear. “Do you want some iced tea?”

“Sure, but I’ll get it.” Lesley watched as her neighbor walked into the kitchen and took two glasses from the cupboard. She poured them each some tea from the pitcher in the fridge. “I’m glad to see you’re going out,” Daisy said, handing Lesley one of them. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend this evening alone.”

Lesley felt warmed at this evidence that someone had remembered today’s significance. “The date slipped by Jo Ann and Lori.”

“So what are you doing? Taking yourself out to dinner?” Daisy was nothing if not direct. Her neighbor didn’t have time to waste being subtle. She attended computer classes during the day and worked weekends as a cocktail waitress. Lesley admired her friend for taking control of her life, for getting out of a rotten marriage and struggling to do what was right for herself and her two boys.

Her neighbor was a little rough around the edges, maybe a little too honest and direct, but she was one heck of a friend. Besides school and a job, she was a good mom to Kevin and Eric. Daisy’s mother watched the boys during the daytime now that school was out, but it wasn’t an ideal situation. The boys, seven and eight, were a handful. A teenage girl from the neighborhood filled in on the nights Daisy worked; Lesley occasionally helped out, as well.

“How does this dress look?” Lesley asked, ignoring Daisy’s question. She twirled to give Daisy a look at the simple blue-and-white-patterned dress. The skirt flared out at the knees as she spun around.

“New?” Daisy asked, helping herself to a few seedless red grapes from the fruit bowl on the table. She held one delicately between manicured nails and popped it into her mouth.

“Relatively new,” Lesley said, glancing away. “I’ve got a date.”

“A real date?”

“Yes, I met him this afternoon. I was mugged and Chase—that’s his name—caught the thief for me.”

“In other words, Chase chased him.”

“Exactly.” She smiled at Daisy’s small joke.

“You sure you can trust this guy?”

Lesley took a moment to analyze what she knew about Chase Goodman. Her impression was of strength, eyes that smiled, a gentle, fun-loving spirit. He was six-four, possibly taller, his chest was wide and his shoulders were broad. Despite his size, he ran with efficiency and speed. Her overall impression of Chase was of total, unequivocal masculinity. The type of man who worked hard, lived hard and loved hard.

Her cheeks flushed with color at the thought of Chase in bed.…

“I can trust him,” Lesley answered. It was herself she needed to question. If she was still in love with Tony, she shouldn’t be attracted to Chase, but she was. She barely knew the man, yet she felt completely safe with him, completely at ease. She must, otherwise she wouldn’t have blurted out the humiliating details of her broken engagement. She’d never done that with anyone else.

“I’m meeting Chase at the Seattle aquarium at six,” Lesley elaborated.

“Hmm. Sounds like he might be hero material,” Daisy said, reaching for another cluster of grapes after she stood. “I’ve got to get dinner on for the boys. Let me know how everything goes, will you? I’ll be up late studying, so if the light’s on, let yourself in.”

“I will,” Lesley promised.

“Have fun,” Daisy said on her way out the door.

That was something Lesley intended to do.

At 6:10, Lesley was standing outside the waterfront aquarium waiting. She checked her watch every fifteen seconds until she saw Chase coming toward her, walking down the hill, his steps hurried. When he saw her, he raised his hand and waved.

Relief flooded through Lesley. The restless sensation in the pit of her stomach subsided and her doubts fled.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, after dashing across the busy intersection. “I had a problem finding a place to park.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lesley said, and it didn’t now that he was here. Now that he was grinning at her in a way she found irresistible.

He smiled down at her and said in a low, caressing voice, “You look nice.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little. How about you?” Pedestrian traffic was heavy and by tacit agreement, they moved to a small fountain and sat on a park bench. She didn’t explain that her appetite had been practically nonexistent ever since she’d lost Tony.

“Some, but I’ve never been to the waterfront before,” Chase said. “Would you mind if we played tourist for a while?”

“I’d like it. Every year I make a point of bringing my class down here. They love the aquarium and the fact that some of the world’s largest octopuses live in Elliott Bay. The kids are fascinated by them.”

They stood and Chase reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. It felt oddly comfortable to be linked to him. They began to walk, their progress slowed by the crowds.

“Other than the aquarium, my kids’ favorite stop is Pier 54,” she said.

“What’s on Pier 54?”

“A long row of tourist shops. Or in other words, one of the world’s largest collections of junk and tacky souvenirs.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“To third-graders it’s heaven. Imagine what their parents think when the children come home carrying a plastic shrunken head with Seattle stamped across it. I shouldn’t be so flippant—it’s not all like that. There’s some interesting Northwest Indian and Eskimo art on display, if you want to walk there.”

“Sure. Isn’t that the ferry terminal?” he asked, pointing toward a large structure beyond the souvenir shops.

“Yes. The Washington State Ferries terminal. Did you know we have the largest ferry system in the world? If you’re looking for a little peace and some beautiful scenery, hop on a ferry. For a while after Tony told me about April, I used to come down here and take the Wins low ferry over to Bainbridge Island. There’s something about being on the water that soothed me.”

“Would you take a ferry with me sometime?” Chase asked.

“I’d like that very much,” she replied. His hand squeezed hers and she congratulated herself on how even she managed to keep her voice. Countless times over the past few months she’d ridden the ferry, sat with a cup of coffee or stood on the deck. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about being on the water that she found so peaceful, but it helped more than anything else.

They walked along the pier and in and out of several of the tourist shops, chatting as they went. It’d been a long time since Lesley had laughed so easily or so often and it felt wonderful.

As they strolled past the ferry terminal, Lesley asked, “Have you been to Pioneer Square? There’s a fabulous restaurant close by if Italian food interests you.”

“Great!”

“I’ll tell you all about Pioneer Square while we eat, then,” Lesley said, leading the way. The restaurant was busy, but they were seated after a ten-minute wait.

No sooner were they handed menus than a basket of warm bread appeared, along with a relish tray, overflowing with fresh vegetables and a variety of black and green olives.

“Pioneer Square is actually the oldest part of Seattle,” Lesley explained, somewhat conscious of sounding like a teacher in front of her class—or maybe a tour guide. “It was originally an Indian village, and later a rowdy frontier settlement and gold rush town.”

“What’s all the business about mail-order brides?” Chase asked while dipping a thick slice of the bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

“You heard about that?”

“I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for a TV documentary I saw. I only caught the end of it, though.”

“The brides are a historical fact. Back in the 1860s, Seattle had a severe shortage of women. To solve the problem, a well-intentioned gentleman by the name of Asa Mercer traveled East and recruited a number of New England women to come to Seattle. These weren’t ladies of the night, either, but enterprising souls who were well-educated, cultured and refined. The ideal type of woman to settle the wild frontier.”

“What would Asa Mercer have said to induce these women to give up the comforts of civilization? How’d he get them to agree to travel to the Wild West?” Chase asked, setting aside his bread and focusing his full attention on her.

“It might surprise you to know he didn’t have the least bit of difficulty convincing these women. First, there was a real shortage of marriageable men due to the Civil War. Many of these women were facing spinsterhood. Asa Mercer’s proposition might well have been their only chance of finding a husband.”

“I see.”

Lesley didn’t understand his frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure her. “Go on, tell me what happened.”

“The first women landed at the waterfront on May 16, 1864. I remember the day because May 16 is my birthday. Seattle was a riproaring town and I imagine these women must’ve wondered what they were letting themselves in for. But it didn’t take them long to settle in and bring touches of civilization to Seattle. They did such a good job that two years later a second group of brides was imported.”

“They all got married, then?”

“All but one,” Lesley told him. “Lizzie Ordway. Eventually she became the superintendent of public schools and a women’s activist. It was because of her and other women like her that Washington State granted women the right to vote a full ten years ahead of the constitutional amendment.”

“Now you’re the one who’s frowning,” Chase commented.

“I was just thinking that… I don’t know,” she said, feeling foolish.

“What were you thinking?” Chase asked gently.

She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to voice the fears that gnawed at her. That she was afraid she’d end up like Lizzie, unmarried and alone. These few details were all Lesley knew about the woman’s life. She wondered if Lizzie had found fulfillment in the women’s suffrage movement. If she’d found contentment as a spinster, when her friends had married one by one until she was the only one left. The only one who hadn’t been able to find a husband.