“Since when?”
“Now. And while we’re on the subject, cross off Stuart and Fred, as well. Please call and tell Mrs. Blackman ‘no sale.’”
“No.”
“Okay, then, just give me the number. I’ll do it myself. Better still, do you have Arnold’s number?”
“No. You’re going to like him. He’s a real catch.”
“Charlie the Tuna’s a catch. Besides, if he’s such a great catch, why was he tossed back?”
“He’s very handsome.”
“Mom, all blind dates are handsome until you meet them. I hate going on blind dates.”
“Abby, if you continue to be this negative, you’re never going to get married.”
“And marriage is important because…”
“I want to have grandchildren before I die.”
“Mom? Are you crying?”
Her mother blew her nose and nearly burst Abby’s eardrum in the process. Abby sighed. She hated when her mother acted this way. She sighed again and knew she’d regret what she intended to do.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll go. But, this is the very last time I will ever go on a blind date. Promise me that you will never try to set me up on another one. And you better not be crossing your fingers.”
“That’s my girl! I knew you’d do it!”
“Mom. Mom, calm down.”
“Yes, Abby?”
“I need you to make that promise.”
“Promise? What promise is that, dear?”
“Promise me that you will never make another blind date for me again.”
“Okay. Okay. I promise. Now write this down. Arnold will be picking you up at eight. Wear something nice.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Mom.”
She let the phone drop into the cradle. Her head was now throbbing.
Chapter 3
Abby stared at the dresses and suits hanging in her closet. All she had to do was pick one of them and put it on. That is, if she were like most women. Which she was not. Abby was totally traumatized when it came to dressing for blind dates. It was mostly the not knowing part, such as what the guy actually looked like or where they were going for the date, that freaked her out.
As she pondered whether she should wear her blue suit or black dress, a wicked thought crept into her mind. With Arnold being such a catch, what if she wore a yellow slicker, matching hip boots and a floppy hat like the Gorton fisherman on the frozen fish sticks box? Too bad she didn’t have the get-up. The hat would have been kinda cute. Even choosing the right pair of shoes was a problem. For instance, being five feet, ten inches, putting on any size heel would make her a giant next to a guy who was five feet, eight inches. To avoid embarrassment, flats would be a safe choice. However, with clothing, things could get hairy, which she had found out on her last blind date.
Her date, a friend of a friend, who was now an ex-friend and still refused to talk to her, had called to make her acquaintance over the phone. He sounded very nice and told Abby to dress up because they were going to a party. They made arrangements to meet at the place. The day of the party fell on Halloween so she put together a costume she thought would knock his socks off. Dressed as a vampire, complete with fake blood oozing at the corners of her mouth, she walked into the bar mitzvah and knocked everybody’s socks off. The guy never called her for another date.
Abby decided to play it safe and chose her black suit with black flats. She left her shoulder-length blond hair down and applied a minimal amount of makeup. She didn’t actually believe that any offspring of Mrs. Blackman would be an Adonis, so she prepared herself for the blind date from hell. It was only one night out of her entire life, and she could afford the sacrifice if it made her mother happy.
The doorbell rang right on time. Abby was ready and opened the door. The guy standing there was tall and matinee-handsome with neatly combed black hair that brushed the top of his jacket collar. Figuring he was someone else’s date and had rung the wrong doorbell, she immediately asked if he needed help.
“Abby? Hi. I’m Arnold.”
“Mrs. Blackman’s Arnold?” Abby asked in disbelief, as if there could be another Arnold walking around her apartment complex.
He smiled and she noticed, for the first time, that he possessed two adorable dimples. How was this possible? Either he was adopted or someone was playing an April Fool’s joke on her early.
“Come in, Arnold, while I get my coat.”
As Abby walked to the hall closet and removed her coat from the hanger, it occurred to her that she better get back home prior to midnight just in case Arnold turned into a troll. The thought remained with her as Arnold led her to a sleek-looking sports car and helped her inside. She looked around the car’s interior for any indication it was a disguised pumpkin.
Arnold had made reservations for them to see a dinner show at the Trylon. The Trylon was an old movie house that had been purchased by a theater critic who combined the best of his two favorite worlds, food and the theater, by adding a kitchen. The place became an instant success and people flocked to it.
Abby and Arnold were seated at a small round table. A waiter came by with menus and asked if they would like drinks. Arnold ordered a Scotch and soda and she had a vodka sour.
“I’ve been here on several occasions and the food is good, so it’s safe to pick anything on the menu,” Arnold said.
“That’s good to know. Since it’s a murder mystery, though, if anyone gets poisoned, they could chalk it up to audience participation.”
Arnold chuckled. “That’s very funny. Mother didn’t tell me you were funny.”
“What did your mother tell you about me?”
“Not much. She said you were tall, owned your own business and were a good catch.”
Abby wondered why everyone’s mothers seemed fixated on fishing.
The waiter returned with their drinks. “Do you know what you’d like to order, yet?”
“Abby, do you know what want?”
Abby looked up at the waiter. “I think I’d like the surf and turf.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Make it two.”
“Thank you,” the waiter said, picked up the menus, and headed to the kitchen to place their order.
Abby realized that Arnold hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the entire time. His persistent stare made her uncomfortable. Did she have something caught between her teeth or was her makeup smeared?
“You’re very pretty. Mother said you were okay, but she didn’t prepare me for the real you.”
Abby wasn’t prepared for such a backhanded compliment. “Thank you.”
“Tell me all about yourself.”
From the way he was looking at her and what he’d just said, she wondered if he might be intending to write a book. It was better than thinking he might be crazy. She’d been with guys who couldn’t even make eye contact when they spoke to her. This one could win a staring contest with a stiff.
The waiter returned with their salads, distracting Arnold for the moment. It occurred to Abby that there was a chance he wouldn’t instantly turn back into a troll at the stroke of twelve. Instead, what if the handsome veneer