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Yellow flowers always seemed bright and cheerful. Bob didn’t care for the romantic red rose. He just went for cheerful, since that’s how he felt, and how he hoped Julie felt too.
The three women at his workplace had seemed businesslike, preoccupied and unavailable from Day 1. Leave it to Mom to see through that façade, thought Bob.
All the smiles and kindnesses Julie had displayed towards him seemed to come back to him in the last few days, and in spite of mocking his mother for imagining wedding bells in his future, he found himself now and then imagining Julie being a known quantity by his side in a long-term relationship. OK, marriage, if he had to admit that part of the fantasy. It was kind of a relief to couple his mother’s hopes with his own. The tension about it had got pretty old, in every phone call down to Florida.
On his way to her house, he thought of how easy and natural it seemed to spend time with Julie. They got along fine; Julie was considerate and friendly. She dressed nicely, not too flamboyantly, and she was shapely. The last few days, Bob had noticed things about her in an entirely different way. Her lips, her rouge, the softness of her eyes behind the stylish red rimmed glasses, her smooth, silky dress with a bit of cleavage intriguingly revealed.
Just today, he had hit upon the perfect surprise for Julie. The Port Haven Players were doing The Music Man over at the high school. It was a community production, but sometimes those were excellent, and Bob knew he’d enjoy his favorite show even if it wasn’t exactly Broadway.
How could it go wrong? His favorite restaurant and his favorite musical.
Bob parked the car and breathed the crisp fall air. His shoes shuffled through the rustle of leaves.
As he rang the bell, he suddenly felt like the whole thing was stupid. She had a boyfriend, was always talking about him, and she was just being nice to him because he had said he wanted to escape his roommate for a dinner and have some company doing it. She was just humoring him.
“Hi,” said Julie, inviting him into her place. She was dressed about the same as at the office, attractive, well put together, nothing too racy. She put her hand on his shoulder and her soft eyes smiled at him. Maybe he was all off base, thought Bob, this should be a nice time.
“Do you need to use the bathroom or anything?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine,” said Bob.
“OK, I’m ready.”
Bob opened the car door for her.
“Oh, my boyfriend used to do that at first. Very gallant, opening doors for me. He used to play it up and we’d have a laugh about it. Now we just hop in and go to the game or whatever.”
Bob found he didn’t have much to say while driving. Finally, he said, “Well I hope you like Luigi’s as much as I do.”
“Oh, that fine. We’ve been there a few times and it’s good, solid Italian. I like that.”
As they waited for a table, and waited some more, Bob offered Julie a drink. “No, I don’t go in for drinks much. But have yourself a beer if you like. My boyfriend always goes for a beer, I’m used to it. You should see what he can put away just watching a game on TV.”
Bob ordered a beer.
“So you’re getting tired of your roommate? Are you thinking of getting a new one?” she asked.
“No, he’s okay. He has adventures sometimes, and it’s fun to hear about them. But this time, he’s got himself into some trouble, and I just can’t be thinking about his troubles all the time. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, sure. You’ve got to have your space. That’s why I have my own place. He wants to move in or have me move in, but he’s away so much, and sometimes has to live in another city for a while to do his contracts, so why should I not keep up my own place?”
“Right, sure, I understand. What’s your boyfriend’s name? I’m sure you’ve mentioned it, but I forgot.”
“Oh, it’s Frederick, but I call him Freddie. At first he thought it was cutesy but he’s got used to it.”
“I guess we can call him Freddie since he’s not here.”
“Sure, no problem. Do you like sports? It seems all guys are into it one way or another. My boyfriend can’t seem to get enough, and I like going to the games because it’s so fun actually being there instead of just watching it on TV. Very dramatic. Fun social time too, really.”
“Well, I used to play football.”
“Really? That’s so great. I never would have thought it, I mean, not that you don’t look strong or big enough.”
“Well, I let it go back in college. Strange thing. It seemed to tie into meeting a girl and basically falling in love for a short time, and it changed me. I kind of stopped the heavy drinking and changed the guys I hung out with, and the next year I just didn’t go for football anymore.”
“She must have been a beauty. I hope you find her again.”
“Me too,” Bob found himself saying, surprising himself. He thought he had succeeded in washing Lucy out of his mind long ago.
“My boyfriend had a hot girlfriend long before me but I think I’m enough woman for him!”
“Excuse me,” said Bob. He got up and found the way to the men’s room. He headed straight for the sink and washed his hands. Instead of turning automatically to the paper towels, he rubbed his face with his wet hands and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
Every day he looked at himself in the mirror while shaving but never before had looked at his reflection as if it were someone else.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered to it. It didn’t answer.
He dried his hands and patted his face with the paper towel, then swished it into the trash barrel. As he walked back between tables, a hand reached out for him from his left.
“Hey, handsome,” Julie’s voice cooed. The hostess had found them a table. He sat down to join her and some of his fantasies of going out with her more often churned up to the surface for a moment.
“Mmmm, Luigi’s makes the best Alfredo,” said Julie. She ordered it, and Bob chose the Baconburger Supreme.
They enjoyed the bustle of diners around them, but had only sparse conversation until the food arrived.
“Julie,” said Bob. “It just occurred to me that you could help me.”
“Sure, Bob, what is it?”
“Well, just a professional opinion. My roommate got into a fix, and, well, without getting into the story, he signed something that gave someone’s house away.”
“He couldn’t do that. Not unless it was a quit-claim deed and he forged it! That’s really not possible,” said Julie.
“He signed a quit-claim deed and forged it,” Bob said quietly.
“Oh.”
“The thing is, I did a title search on the place. It’s the old parsonage house on Church Street. I even looked into the oldest records. The place was built in 1742, so this goes way back.”
Julie was keenly interested and paused, coffee cup in hand.
“It seems that back around the Civil War, the house was deeded to someone for $1. That’s strange enough, but even stranger is that this deed was done by an individual, whereas the previous title was held by the church.”
“Oh, that would be a cloud and might call ownership into question for everyone after that. Unless you found a note authorizing the sale. In those days they hand-copied everything, sometimes with abbreviations or references, and sometimes didn't get everything the same. There could even be a note that didn't make it to the Registry. Anyway, banks don’t care about that. They buy and sell as is. I’ve even seen contracts where they put right into the contract that they may or may not clear up the title if there's a problem.”
“Well, would you mind looking at it if you have some spare time? Two heads might be better than one on something like this, and my roommate’s head is in other places, I think.”
“Sure, I’d love to. Just give me the info on Monday. That was such a great dinner, Bob, thank you.”
“Julie, I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? What?”
“I got tickets to a musical. The Music Man!”
“Oh. Wow. Okay. I’ve never been, but there’s always a first.”
They drove over to the high school and joined the crowd of parents, kids, and senior citizens waiting for ushers to show them in.
From the opening scene, Bob was mesmerized. He mouthed right along with tonguetwisters like “Trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool!” When Marion sang “Goodnight My Someone,” he turned to see if Julie was misting over too, but she was nodding off, and almost rested her head on Bob’s shoulder before jerking her eyes open at the start of “76 Trombones.”
Towards the end of the first act came Bob’s favorite song, “Marion the Librarian.” Harold and Marion were starting to fall in love. Bob leaned over to Julie, about to point out the kids in the library swaying along, but he heard a hint of heavy breathing. Julie was nodding off again and leaning toward him. He shook her shoulder gently; she revived groggily and resumed watching the show. In a few moments, he started to hear light snores and felt her head drift onto his shoulder and stay there. He looked around, embarrassed, but everyone else was watching the show.
At intermission, he woke Julie up. He bit his lip, realizing that he had to take her home. He wanted to hear “Lida Rose” and “Till There Was You” and see everything work out with the marching band.
Bob drove Julie home.
“Thanks so much, Bob, for such a nice dinner. Let’s talk on Monday about that title. Now you have me curious.”
He recalled for a moment that in high school, at this point in a date, he would wonder mightily about how to say goodbye to a girl. But Julie was just a coworker.
“See you Monday,” said Bob. “Thanks for coming out.”