“Hey, girl! How was your weekend?” Nancy was peeking around the doorjamb by Carla’s desk, her well-manicured hand grasping the wood frame.
“Great!” Carla was glad to see her friend.
“We were so busy at the party, I didn’t even have a chance to talk to you last Friday. Guess who I met Thursday night at church?”
“Who?”
“Michael Chadwell.” Nancy raised her eyebrows in anticipation of Carla’s response.
“My brother?” Carla asked, astonished.
“Yes!” Nancy laughed jubilantly. “He’s cute, Carla.” She leaned down and over-enunciated in a whisper to her friend, “Very eligible.”
Carla grinned. “He was here in Rock Pier? And he didn’t tell me? Well, that little…!”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “Well, you can see him next week if you come Thursday night with me. He told me he’s planning to come.”
“Really! Well, I’ll think about it.” Carla liked Nancy a lot, but she really didn’t want to get involved in religion like Nancy seemed to be. Nancy went to church Sunday morning, Sunday evening and sometimes Wednesday night, in addition to being involved in the Thursday event.
“You know, it’s not just your brother who’s cute in that crowd. It’s a good group. Some really neat people come.” Nancy pulled her head back into the hall, then stuck it into the room again. “I gotta go. George has a couple of ASAP letters for me. See ya at lunch?”
Immediately after Nancy left, Mr. Garman walked in, nodded to Carla, and went into his office, closing the door behind him. Carla checked the list she’d made on Friday and began with the top item. Presently, Mr. Garman buzzed her and she walked into his office, reminding herself that she had no apologies to make. When she opened the door, her employer waited while she seated herself in her customary chair.
“Good morning, Carla,” he said in his usual manner. “I won’t be in the office tomorrow or Wednesday, and I need to get some letters done before I go. I need a reservation to LA for next Monday, too—anytime in the morning, and arriving back Thursday evening. Coach is fine. I won’t need a car. Herzig has a ride for me.”
He was writing the whole time he talked. Now, looking up at Carla, he added, smiling, “I want to thank you again for your help Saturday morning. Patrice likes the ring.”
“I’m glad.” Carla returned the smile. “It is beautiful. Was she surprised?” Carla felt just a bit presumptuous as she asked the question.
“Very.” Mr. Garman rose, and Carla took her cue to do so as well. He had assumed his customary business attitude in that gesture; however, in a manner uncustomary, he went to the door and held it open for Carla before walking out himself. Carla later noted that from that time, without exception, Mr. Garman always rose to open the door for her. She appreciated the gesture on the one hand; she found it puzzling, on the other.
The morning hours flew by. At lunch, Nancy again invited her to the Thursday church meeting. Carla agreed to go, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to go just once.
Carla went back to her afternoon tasks, musing on the fact that Nancy was interested in a particular guy, and the guy happened to be Michael. Carla was pleased. Michael was quite religious, and she figured the two would make a good pair. Carla was frankly a little surprised that Nancy, so stunningly beautiful, was attracted to Michael—except she knew her friend well enough by now to know that, despite their conversation about Mr. Garman at lunch that first day, Nancy wasn’t one to be captured by outward appearance alone. Probably—subconsciously, at least, it was Michael’s strong religious convictions that had made him, just another guy in most ways, really attractive to her.
……….
The next Thursday Nancy Herring found it difficult to contain the excitement she felt. For one thing, Carla had consented to come to Thursday Night Club. Even more significant was her anticipation of seeing Michael Chadwell again. What it was about him that attracted her so, she couldn’t figure out. Other guys had had similar qualities, although it would take four or five of them combined, she figured, to come up with all the assets Michael seemed to have by himself.
“Whoa! You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Nancy,” she warned herself. “Get a grip. What if it’s one-sided? Slow down and be rational.”
In the afternoon during break, Nancy suggested picking up Carla so they could ride together to the meeting that night.
“Nice of you to ask, Nancy,” Carla said, “but one of the guys who’s going called yesterday to ask if he could pick me up.” She smiled mischievously.
“Who?” Nancy was genuinely curious.
“Michael somebody or other.”
Carla kept a straight face, but Nancy wrinkled up her nose and blurted, “No way!” Then she sat back and added playfully, “I’m jealous. Maybe I should catch a ride with you!”
“Actually Michael mentioned he’d pick you up, except he thought you had to be there really early to greet or something, and he didn’t think I’d want to sit around the place a half hour until it started.”
“Oh, that’s OK. As a matter of fact, I already made arrangements to ride with Sig Thorsten. He’s another greeter. He lives just a few blocks from me, and we trade rides.
“Well, hey, we’ve both got dates, then.” Carla still teased.
Nancy responded by rolling her eyes. Then she smiled. “We should switch: you’d like Sig.”
“‘Sig?’ What kind of name is that?”
“I think it’s Scandinavian.”
Break time was over, and the girls caught the elevator to the office entrance on sixth floor.
“See y’there.”
“I hope we don’t get side-tracked, Michael and I.” Carla couldn’t resist.
“It starts at 7:00 sharp!” Nancy threatened, squinting her eyes and raising her eyebrows.
Carla laughed spontaneously, and Nancy enjoyed the moment all the way back to her desk.
……….
Three hours later, at 6:15, Sig Thorsten pulled up to the curb outside Nancy’s apartment, jumped out of his red sports car and walked briskly up to the door. He rang Nancy’s doorbell and then ran his hand through his blond hair. Of medium build with an air of nonchalance that was attractive to people—especially girls, he enjoyed life from this vantage point. He was twenty-six, a young bachelor, with a lucrative job as a stockbroker. He had introduced himself to Nancy six weeks previously when they had separately attended the wedding of a mutual friend. Nancy had invited him, in the course of their conversation, to Thursday Night Club. Sig had gone more out of curiosity than anything else. But TNC proved to be interesting, and he found himself looking forward to Thursday evenings. The people were several cuts above the barfly crowd he was used to, and it seemed a good way to meet other singles.
But although the music was good and the messages interesting enough, he hadn’t locked into the scene on a gut level. When he first heard preaching about the need to be saved, the question for Sig was, “Saved from what?” He was a good person, in his own opinion, at least, and wasn’t that what mattered? He did drink a little too much once in a great while, but generally he worked hard, didn’t bash people, limited his lies mostly to little white ones, and was good to his parents. He really couldn’t relate to being saved from his sins when he didn’t consider himself much of a sinner.
The door opened, and there was Nancy, looking pretty as ever in a lavender angora sweater and jeans. She put on her down jacket as they both walked to the car, making small talk. Sig opened his door, climbed in, and pushed the button to unlock Nancy’s, clearing his briefcase from her seat as she climbed in.
“It should be a good meeting tonight. Joe Carston’s giving his testimony.” Nancy glanced at Sig. “Do you know Joe?” she queried.
“Nope. Don’t believe I ever met him.” Sig’s nonchalant tone indicated he didn’t care whether he ever would, either. “Is it going to be another one of those ‘transformed lives’ stories?”
“I hope so.” Nancy refused to react to Sig’s condescending remark and proceeded as if Sig were as excited as she. “Wasn’t Kelly Murphy’s testimony awesome last week? I had no idea she’d been through so much. I don’t think she’s even as old as you.”
“What do you mean, ‘Old as you’? You make me sound ancient.” He turned to look curiously at Nancy. “How old do you think I am?
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Just tell me.”
“Guess!”
“Fifteen?”
Sig shot her a look of playful disgust that had just a smidgeon of sincerity in it. “Twice that and subtract four.” Both hands on the steering wheel, he straightened his arms, stretching against the seatback and flexing his biceps. He turned to look at Nancy again. “I am not old.” He paused and then, with an innocent air of triumph asked, “So you’re around twenty-five, aren’t you?”
“Mmhmm,” Nancy returned. She suddenly didn’t feel like disclosing her tender age of twenty-two. When she didn’t add, “Just kidding” or “Of course not,” Sig objected, “No, you’re not!”
“Maybe so, maybe not.” Somehow seeing Sig trying to process this unknown Nancy found most satisfying, even though she felt a little guilty. She fully intended to set the matter straight, but for right now, the enjoyment of seeing him perplexed took upper hand. Before Sig could demand the truth, Nancy commented on a flashy sports car passing them, to divert his attention. Then she adroitly changed the subject. This precluded Sig’s asking again, since the question would have been awkward and even rude, were Nancy actually twenty-five.
When Sig pulled up to the church to let Nancy out, she called out a simple, “Thanks for the ride!” and half ran up to the warehouse church entrance, feeling jubilant and guilty at the same time. She wished she didn’t have to ride home with him and found herself looking for an excuse to discontinue their riding arrangement.
Sig parked his car and went to his appointed spot by the west door. Nancy, at the middle one, glanced over at Sig. It was obvious he was really enjoying being a greeter. His layback, I-don’t-give-a-care attitude seemed incongruent with his outgoing personality, and Nancy smiled wryly as she noticed the west side attracting a lot of girls as they walked from the parking lot. Nancy kept watching for Michael and Carla, but they didn’t show up until five minutes to seven, the time the greeters were to close their doors and go themselves into the huge hall that had been made into a place of worship. As Michael and Carla greeted her, Sig caught Nancy’s attention and called in a whisper, “Nancy, I’ll go in with you; hold on a moment.”
Nancy fought the feeling of annoyance, but gave into it as Sig came over and took her arm. She smoothly hid her irritation, saying, “Carla and Michael Chadwell, this is Sig Thorsten, a friend of mine.”
“Nice to meet you. You two want to sit with us?” Sig’s possessive attitude further annoyed Nancy, but she couldn’t do anything about it. They walked in and found four seats together towards the back. Nancy had hoped to sit between Michael and Carla, and she was sure Carla would have been accommodating. But now she had to follow Sig into the row with Carla behind her and Michael in the rear. Halfway through the announcements she realized that Sig probably thought her two friends were married, since she’d introduced them as Michael and Carla Chadwell. Her annoyance was somewhat assuaged, and she set aside the circumstances to focus on the service.
……….
Joe, the speaker, had attended Rock Church for several months, and gave a testimony that was spellbinding. Coming from a highly dysfunctional family, he had witnessed the murder of his own father and had hated God for allowing it to happen. His talk, while very moving, was funny at times, and he kept his audience.
Walking out to the lobby afterwards, Carla offered, “Wow. That was really interesting. Some people have experiences to last four lifetimes.” Michael and Nancy agreed, obviously exhilarated from hearing the testimony, but Sig was unusually quiet.
“Are you OK, Sig?” Nancy asked.
“Oh yeah. Sure.” He yawned. “I need a cup of coffee. Shall we all drive over to Corner’s?”
Michael spoke up. “I’m not a coffee drinker. How about Marbury’s? You can order anything you want there, but I’ve heard the coffee’s good, too.” His suggestion was a relief for Carla. She really had no desire to go to Corner’s.
It was a cold, clear night. The warm relaxation Carla had enjoyed inside, a moment ago, turned to chattering teeth and goose bumps as she and Michael crunched the snow on the short trek to her brother’s car. They chatted on the way to the restaurant until Michael turned to her rather abruptly and asked, “Carla, what do you think of Sig?”
Carla was taken aback. Such a question was out of character for her serious-minded brother who had hardly given any attention to his own relationships with members of the opposite sex, let alone his sister’s. She raised her eyebrows. “Do I like Sig? I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. Do you?”
“Yeah. He seems like a nice enough guy.” Then, having parked the car across the street from the restaurant, he looked at her again, very intently, with such a sincere tone in his voice that Carla just stared back at him, her eyes wide and curious.
“Well, it’s like this.” Michael swallowed. There was a heightening color to his complexion that eluded Carla in the darkness, but the huskiness of his voice belied the calm determination in it. “I’d like to drive Nancy home tonight, but that would mean you’d have to ride with Sig. Would that make you uncomfortable?” He rubbed his hand along the steering wheel. “It’s not that big a deal, if you’d rather not,” he added, feeling his sister’s hesitation. After all, she hardly knew Sig.
But Carla’s hesitation was because she was in shock. She had never seen Michael like this. Was he falling in love? And with Nancy, the girl who’d become Carla’s closest friend? Carla looked straight ahead, her eyes glazed with incredulity. Then, happy for her brother and with understanding for his desire to be with Nancy, she smiled and said generously, “Michael, I don’t know Sig from Adam, but unless I get totally negative vibes from him while we’re in Marbury’s, maybe we can kind of pair off in our conversation. If I keep trying to cut in on you while you’re talking with Nancy, it’s because I really don’t feel comfortable with his taking me home. I’m sure it will be fine, though. But,” she emphasized, as she reached for her door handle, “I’m leaving it up to you to make the arrangements.” She smiled in response to his half-sheepish grin of relief.
“Thanks! She’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Michael.” Carla couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she thought about her brother. If her brother and her friend ever got together, Carla knew she would eventually enjoy telling Nancy about this conversation.
……….
A couple weeks later, Carla was sitting in her apartment, finishing some leftover Chinese food. She was thinking about her New Year’s Eve date with Sig. They’d had a great time together. As Carla threw away the empty cartons, the phone rang.
“Hi, Mom!” Carla knew the seven o’clock call had to be her mother.
“This isn’t Mom,” Sig’s voice teased.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carla felt her face flushing. “My mom usually calls Thursdays at seven, and I just assumed…”
“Assuming can get you into a heap of trouble.”
Carla curled up in the chair, preparing for another long chat with Sig about nothing and everything, but after a couple of moments, he came right to the point. “You want to go to the Jeff Caulkin concert on the seventeenth? It’s at the coliseum.” Sig had a singular confidence in his voice that was appealing to Carla.
“That sounds fun. What time does it start?”
“Not until eight. I guess they knew I’d like to take you out to dinner first.”
“Ooh, how nice. Sure, I’d love to.” Then, puzzled, Carla queried, “It is Thursday today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, right up to midnight.” Sig always had a quick answer.
“I thought you went to Thursday Night Club.”
“I thought you did.”
“Not really,” Carla explained. “I just went because Nancy asked me.”
“Well, actually I have a mandatory phone conference every first Thursday, and I never get off work until 6:30 on those days. This is one of ‘em. But I plan to go next week. Will you come if I pick you up?”
“Maybe. It’s not really my thing, but I’ll think about it.”
“Ah, c’mon,” Sig persisted. “Ask your mom to call you at six instead of seven.”
Carla laughed, flattered by Sig’s determination. “Well, all right.”
“Great!” There was a boyish triumph in his voice that made Carla smile. “I’ll pick you up at 6:30. I think your brother’s picking up Nancy.”
“Don’t you have to greet?”
“I’ll get a sub.”
“Oh, no, Sig. I don’t mind going early. I’ll bring a book.”
“Y’ sure?”
“I’m sure,” Carla said with finality.
“OK. Six fifteen then. And we’ll talk about where to go eat before the concert.”
“That’ll be great.”
“Well, I’ll get off the phone so you and your mom can solve the world’s problems.”
Carla laughed. “We usually take care of most of them in the first five minutes. Have a good day at work tomorrow.”
“Thanks. You too.”