Page 13 of The Space Between

"I don't know about that," she counters, taking a small sip of her Sidecar. It's her second cocktail of the day, and something about a lunchtime drink followed by an evening drink feels...decadent. Worldly. It’s outside the bounds of Jeanie's usual sedate behavior. "I'm mostly here to keep this tigress under control." She tips her head towards Vicki. "You would be amazed at what she can get up to without supervision."

John looks at Vicki with fresh interest. “I bet this one can look out for herself.”

“This one can,” Vicki confirms, leaning in closer to John.

“How about a dance?” John offers, lifting an eyebrow as a man slides onto the piano bench and starts tinkling at the keys. He’s playing Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade.”

Vicki takes the hand that John offers, leaving her handbag on the table for Jeanie to watch as she lets this tall newscaster of a man lead her to the small dance floor.

“So,” Patrick says, picking up the tumbler of dark liquid in front of him. As he swirls the drink around, the lights catchon his chunky gold ring. He sips his drink, drawing out the moment. “You’re a lovely young lady, Jeanette.”

“Thank you,” she says shyly.

“It’s nice of you to come out for the evening to spend time with a bunch of old codgers here at The Hungry Pelican, when you’d probably be better off searching for viable prospects at a place like The Black Hole.”

Jeanie smiles at the mention of her coworkers’ favorite after-work haunt. The average age of the patrons there is decidedly younger than what she’s seeing here, and the music that blares from the jukebox doesn’t bring back wartime nostalgia.

“I’m not really looking for viable prospects,” she says, taking a drink of her Sidecar. “I’m just having fun.”

Patrick laughs lightly and shakes his head as he looks into his glass. “I don’t think a girl like you is cut out for just having fun. I can look at you and see that you’re made of more interesting stuff.”

Jeanie frowns;more interesting stuff? She squares her shoulders and puts both elbows on the table as she leans in to listen. “I don’t seem like fun?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I said.” Patrick wags a finger at her. “You’re wonderful—at least from what I can tell. But you look like a woman with real desires.” Jeanie’s chest goes hot, and the sensation spreads up her neck to her cheeks. “And not justthosekinds of desires,” Patrick clarifies. “I can see it in your eyes that you’re smart. You a college girl?”

“I graduated from Northwestern,” she says.

Patrick nods. “Right. So not secretarial school then.”

“No. I’m an engineer.”

Patrick laughs softly. He shakes his head again. “In my day, a beautiful woman engineer didn’t just stroll into a bar in a tight green dress. Have you found a job yet?”

Jeanie hesitates for a beat. “I work at NASA.”

Patrick lets out a low whistle. “No wonder you’re here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, Jeanette. Perhaps you’ll agree with me based on your own experiences, but I’m guessing that men your age might be a little intimidated by a woman as successful as you. We don’t always handle it well when we’re not the smartest person in a relationship, and certainly when our jobs don’t hold a candle to yours.”

Jeanie considers this. “I actually don’t date much, so I’m not sure if that’s true.”

“Do you figure that’s why you don’t date much? Maybe the men at work see you and think, ‘Pretty, but not interested in slowing down and having a family.’”

“Could be,” Jeanie admits. “Yeah, that’s possible.” Her mind instantly goes to Bill and then, of course, to Jo, who—in Jeanie’s mind, anyway—does it all. She volunteers, writes stories, raises three amazing kids, and keeps the house for the family. Jeanie isn’t even sure that shecoulddo all those things. Or that she wants to.

“I’m not saying you should lie about who you are in order to snag a man or anything like that,” Patrick says, holding up a hand like a stop sign. “But I am saying you should think outside the box. Maybe the man for you isn’t…what are you, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Right. I’d say he’s a bit older and has his own list of accomplishments. Maybe he’s already had a family and is looking for a second wife. A guy who doesn’t necessarily want to travel the same route again.”

Jeanie’s smile fades and she clicks a fingernail against her glass as she listens. “You’re suggesting that I aim to be someone’s second wife?”

Patrick shrugs. “I’m suggesting that you consider something non-traditional. Like having a dance with an old geezer at The Hungry Pelican on a Saturday evening.” His smile turns into an impish smirk, and Jeanie can’t help but laugh with relief. She’d been taking his words as gospel, considering that an older man might know more about life than her, and that he was telling her she wasn’t marriage material. But really, he was just taking the long way around to ask her for a dance.

One dance? She can do that. Her mother always told her that she should say yes to a man who politely asks her to dance, because one dance with a man wouldn’t kill you, and it would do wonders for his self-esteem. She can do Patrick that kindness.

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