Paperback
-
SHIP THIS ITEMIn stock. Ships in 1-2 days.PICK UP IN STORE
Your local store may have stock of this item.
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491828816 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 11/23/2013 |
| Pages: | 116 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.28(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Thirty Years Later
The Oyster and the Pearl
By Sandra Mason Beckham
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Sandra Mason BeckhamAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4918-2881-6
CHAPTER 1
Blind Date
Olivia invited me over to have dinner with her family in late December. Her dad, who was an amateur chef, was flying in from California to prepare the family meal. She was so excited because she had not seen her dad in a long time, since her wedding, as a matter of fact, some eight months earlier. She also wanted me to come to dinner because we probably would not see each other until graduation the following June. I had completed all the classes required to graduate from Patricia Stevens, the finishing school we attended, and Olivia had six more months before she would complete the course. But more important, she was inviting me to dinner to meet a gentleman she thought I might find of interest. I had just turned twenty-five and was still single, and Olivia, who was about eight years older than me and on her second marriage, thought it was time I at least started looking. Little did she know that I was already looking, but to no avail. So for me, this dinner party would be very interesting.
When I arrived at Olivia's house that cold, snowy afternoon, I could see her tall, slim frame watching from the window as I parked my car. When she caught sight of me, she ran out of the house and all the way down the sidewalk to greet me. Thinking this was rather strange, since she was wearing no coat, not even a jacket, I asked her, "Is everything all right?"
She said, "Yes, but there's just one little problem."
She told me that Ken, the gentleman whom she had invited to dinner for me to meet, had called and asked if he could bring a friend. He had not been told that he was invited to meet someone. So when he called, Olivia's husband, Mike, answered the phone and told Ken, "Sure, you can bring a friend; the more the merrier."
Olivia was scared because she had not told her husband that she was inviting me to meet Ken, because her husband would accuse her of playing matchmaker. As we stood outside in the cold she also told me that she did not know if the "friend" was male or female. It really did not matter to me. When she originally invited me to dinner and told me that she wanted me to meet this guy, I was not all that excited anyway. I had been down this road so many times and was ready to throw in the towel. The guy she wanted me to meet was the same one her sister had invited her into town to meet earlier that year.
They all lived on a military base, and because it was such a family-oriented community, people would pop into and out of each other's houses whenever their shifts were over, just to talk or have a drink. Back in March when Olivia was living in California, not too far from her dad, her younger sister Terri, who was married to a military man, invited her to come meet Ken. Terri knew that her sister was interested in getting married again and that she was very particular about the men she dated. Olivia had already been through a not-so-good marriage and, for the sake of her young son, did not want that to happen again. Ken and Terri's husband, Al, were very good friends. They had served a couple of tours of duty together, stateside and overseas, and would stop by from time to time just to shoot the breeze. So Olivia flew to the East Coast to stay with her sister Terri to meet this man named Ken. Terri knew her sister's type and that she would probably find Ken to be a suitable mate, or even a husband for that matter.
Olivia arrived on the East Coast on a Tuesday evening, and Terri and Al picked her up from the airport. As they drove back to the base, they told her as much about Ken as they could so Olivia would be prepared when she met him. The next day, they called Ken to let him know that Olivia was in town, but Ken was working a swing shift that week. So as not to seem so anxious, he told them that he would come by as soon as he could. As it turned out, Ken was not able to stop by until three days later, after his swing shift was over. When he got to Al and Terri's house, they met him at the door and invited him in to sit down. With long, rather dismayed faces, they told him that Olivia was not there. Al said, "We have to tell you the truth. Another friend of mine, named Mike, dropped by to see us, and Olivia fell head over heels for him."
On the night when Ken finally did get there, Olivia was out on a date with Mike. And in just two short weeks, she and Mike got married, flew back to California to pack her things, and moved to the East Coast where Mike was stationed. When she did finally meet Ken, she thought he was a pretty nice guy; that's why she wanted me to meet him. I was also beginning to understand why Olivia frantically ran out to my car when she saw me drive up. She was afraid that Ken might be coming to dinner with a female date after she had invited him to meet me.
Ken did, in fact, bring a female to dinner. Her name was Marilyn. Olivia apologized profusely, but she really didn't need to. It was not her fault that things didn't go the way she planned. When she introduced us, I told him my name is Sandi. We shook hands and he stared in my eyes and said "I'm Kenneth." He held onto my hand a little longer than I thought he should have, especially having brought a female guest along with him. Nevertheless, after the introductions, we all sat down to eat dinner. Needless to say, dinner was superb. I had never tasted turkey that good. And the stuffing was out of this world. As far as I was concerned, her dad could remove the "amateur" from in front of "chef." To me, he knew quite well what he was doing.
As the evening progressed, we all chatted and found out a little bit about each other's backgrounds. It was the late seventies, and I wore a pantsuit to dinner with a polyester blouse that had a bow that tied at the neck. For some reason Ken found the bow interesting and commented on it. I was not sure if it was a compliment or sarcasm. He and his friend Marilyn wore their air force uniforms. Little did I know that they had to go to work shortly after dinner. I actually thought they were coming from work. Anyway, as dinner was winding down and dishes were being cleared from the tables, some people started to play cards—pinochle was a big thing on the base—and others played backgammon or just sat around talking. I had learned to play pinochle from my parents when I was just seven years old, so I fit right in with this military crowd. Not too long after that, Ken and Marilyn had to leave to work their swing shift, so we all bid them farewell and continued to enjoy the evening.
Of course, Olivia once again begged forgiveness for the fact that Ken had brought a female guest to dinner. But I was not at all fazed. After talking to him for a while, I realized that he was not my type. So in actuality, I was glad he did bring someone. At about midnight the party was beginning to fizzle, so the remainder of us hugged and kissed good-bye. Olivia and I promised to have lunch a few times before graduation. I still do not think she ever told her husband Mike about the arrangement.
It is true that I was a little tired of seeing all my girlfriends find a nice guy, date for a while, and get married. I was somewhat feeling like an old maid, not so much because of my age but because the friends I hung out with at the time were all leaving me. Being the third wheel is not always exciting. And when I would call to see if one of them wanted to go shopping or check out a movie, they always had to check with their husbands, and the answer was usually "next time." That was getting old real fast, so finding Mr. Right was on my radar. At least that way we could go out as couples. It did not have to happen right away, but within the next couple of years, I would be ready to settle down.
CHAPTER 2Avoidance
At the time of the dinner party, I was sharing an apartment with my girlfriend Pat, whom I met while working for the US Postal Service. I had worked there five years, and she had been there for six. A couple of years earlier, we both got tired of working the night shift, from 9:00 p.m. to 5:30 a.m., so we decided to quit. Being young, and thinking we could conquer the world, we accepted our measly little retirement and walked away. We each gave up our one-bedroom apartment and together rented a two-bedroom apartment to decrease expenses. In a short while, Pat had become a photographer and I was working in cosmetics at a department store. The finishing school I was attending when I met Olivia had trained us in fashion, cosmetics, textiles, etiquette and social graces, and oddly enough, architecture. That was so we would understand the entire era of fashion and what constituted certain designs and styles. However, my ultimate goal was to become a sales representative for one of the major cosmetic companies. I had always had an interest in makeup from the time I was a little girl watching my mother apply her makeup as she got ready to go to work. But before I could become a sales rep, I had to serve my time behind the counter learning all I could about the cosmetics industry.
The cosmetics department was the first department shoppers encountered when entering the store from the mall. It was late January, and the basketball season was in full-swing. At that time, the season did not last until June, as it does today. Nevertheless, one morning about 10:00, I was busy at work when I happened to glance up and see Ken walking down the mall toward the store entrance (in his uniform, of course). My heart started beating so fast I thought it was going to jump out of my body. "What is he doing here?" I thought to myself. "And how does he know where I work? For that matter, is he even coming to see me?" A little presumptuous on my part.
Then I remembered our conversation over dinner the previous month. We were all talking about where we worked and what we did for a living. I did not think he was taking note. Anyway, I got really busy, acting as if I had not seen him, at which time he approached my counter. I looked up at him, trying to be cool.
"Can I help you?" I asked. He could probably hear my heart beating through my chest.
"Don't you remember me?" he replied, looking rather puzzled. "I met you at Olivia and Mike's for dinner."
Still trying to be cool, I put my finger on my temple as if I was thinking and said, "Oh yeah, I remember. How's Marilyn?"
He abruptly stated, "She was just a friend I worked with who asked me what I was doing that evening, so I called Mike to see if she could come."
I kind of chuckled to myself.
Then he asked, "Where can I buy tickets for the basketball games?"
At that time department stores had Ticketron offices in them. So I told him where to go to buy the tickets.
"Go up the escalator, turn left, and follow the signs."
He turned in the direction of the escalator and then turned back to me.
"I would like to take you to lunch, if you don't mind," he said.
"I have two and a half hours before I go to lunch," I replied.
Then he looked me in the eye and said, "I'll wait."
He then bought his tickets for the basketball playoffs, strolled the mall, and came back at 12:30 to take me to lunch.
Since I only had a half hour for lunch, we went upstairs to the small diner inside the store and had lunch there. We talked about dinner at Olivia's and that big bow I had across my chest. Then I came to realize he was being sarcastic when he commented on my bow in December. I thought I looked pretty good, since that was the style back then. But he seemed to think differently. "What do you know about fashion?" I thought to myself, "in your military uniform." Anyway, we both got a good laugh out of it.
It doesn't take long to pass the time when you only have thirty minutes. So by the time my sandwich and iced tea came, it was just about time to go back to work.
"Would you mind if I asked for your phone number?" he said.
I was reluctant to give it to him. After all, I did not want to start something I knew I was not interested in in the first place. But I did not know how to say no. So I said, "Well," and then paused for a second or two. I could not think of how to say no, so I gave it to him and said, "Thanks for lunch. I enjoyed it," and went back to work. When I got back to the floor, I got teased a little bit, because that's just the way the girls were. But I knew it was all in fun, and I laughed right along with them.
I could not wait to get home that evening to tell Pat what had happened. She knew I had been on a blind date the previous month, and she also knew how it turned out. So for her to hear that he tracked me down a month later would be unbelievable. When she finally got home, I told her about my day and also said, "If this guy named Ken calls, tell him he has the wrong number, you do not know me, I died, or whatever you want to tell him, because I do not want to be bothered. Back then we did not have caller ID and all that fancy jazz, so we could not tell who was calling. I just knew he would be bugging me, and I did not want to hurt his feelings.
Well, the joke was on me. Ken did not call that night, nor did he call the next night. As a matter of fact, he did not call for four days. Sucker! I, who did not want to be bothered, now could not look in the mirror at myself for sheer embarrassment. There I was all prepared to let him down easily, when I was the one being let down. Or was I? Here we go again. Those doggone swing shifts. You would think he worked twenty-four hours a day when he worked swings, because it seemed the world stopped turning till he went on days. Poor thing! He just could not operate during the other sixteen hours of the day.
Anyway, he finally called. By then I had an attitude. Playing hard to get had backfired, so I answered the phone, still playing dumb.
"This is who? Oh, Kenneth, how are you? I'm doing fine."
He said, "I want to apologize for taking so long to call. I just got off from working a swing shift."
Well duh. I had already figured it out. So we talked about the weather and how long I had been working at the department store and carried on some other petty conversation. Then I put my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and told Pat, "Go in the kitchen and pick up the phone as if you are going to use it."
So she picked it up and said, "Sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone."
I responded, "That's okay; you can use it."
I thanked Ken for calling, and we said good-bye. He called again the next night, and we talked a little longer. Again the next night, and we talked even longer still. I guess I was beginning to enjoy his conversation but still had no desire to take it any further.
In the meantime, I felt that I had served my time behind the counter learning all I could about the cosmetics industry. So I began to apply for jobs as a sales representative. When I started my search, of course I started with the companies whose products I was familiar with—Estée Lauder, Elizabeth Arden, Fashion Fair, and Revlon. My big break came when I answered an ad in the paper for a sales representative with Revlon. After a couple of weeks, I finally got a call from Revlon for an interview. So I called my job at the department store and told a lie, of course, as to why I was not coming to work. The only thing I could think of was that I had a flat tire. I got all dressed up in my navy blue suit and white blouse and went downtown for the interview. I got on the elevator to go to the sixteenth floor, where I was met by a man six feet, six inches tall, with eyeglasses as thick as a Coke bottle. I was totally shocked. I was expecting to be met by some beautiful Revlon woman with perfectly applied makeup. However, this was not the case. His name was Mr. Weston.
"Are you Sandra?" he asked.
With my knees shaking, slightly taken aback by the fact that he was not and woman but a six foot, six inches tall man, I answered in a somewhat weak voice, "Yes."
Then he escorted me to his office, offered me a seat and said, "Tell me a little about your background, and why you want to work for this company."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Thirty Years Later by Sandra Mason Beckham. Copyright © 2013 Sandra Mason Beckham. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.