HAPPENCHANCE

SATURDAY: 6:00 a.m.

Thirty-three-year-old Jack Taylor swore he'd never join a singles’ dating site, but here he was about to prepare dinner for a woman he'd yet to meet.

Jack could count on less than ten fingers how many dates he'd had in the past two years. He'd never been someone to put himself 'out there.' Maybe he was afraid he’d inherited his multiracial father’s genes and pass away before the age of forty, leaving behind a wife and children. Or maybe it was a deep-seated fear of rejection he'd experienced growing up.

As Jack grew older he began to understand why his Italian mother spent much of her time cooking and baking. The kitchen had been her safe place; somewhere she could not only escape the pain of losing a husband, but an imperfect and, at times, cruel world. Just like his mother, preparing a dish that was not only impressive but tastefully unique wasn't a hobby, it was his passion.

He'd spent most of the day creating a four-course meal. The appetizer was ready for the oven, the filets were marinating and, all the lobster bisque needed was cream. It would only take Jack minutes to throw together the chocolate mousse.

When he took out a bottle of Shafer Relentless Syrah, he thought of Dave.

He'd met Dave Shafer at a college career expo. After chatting for over an hour, Dave invited Jack to meet him for dinner to continue their conversation. When Jack arrived at the upscale restaurant Dave ordered a bottle of Shafer Merlot.

Last year Dave lost his battle with cancer. Not only did Jack lose a mentor but his best friend. Although pricey, Jack always had a bottle of Shafer Merlot on hand as a tribute to Dave. He would never forget the encouragement, the wisdom Dave imparted, or the friendship of the man who'd believed in him.

THE DATE.

The apartment buzzer went off, and Jack pushed the button. "Angelique?"

“Yes,” she answered.

“Great. I'm on the third floor.” Jack started down the hallway to greet her.

When she stepped off the elevator, the form-fitting dress that ended mid-thigh hugged her petite figure.

Her light brown hair with subtle streaks of blonde fell in loose curls halfway down her back. She was drop-dead, movie-star stunning.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks,” she said flatly.

She walked like a model; confident, graceful.

Embarrassed because she looked as if she was dressed for the opera and he was wearing jeans, Jack said, “I should have told you I’m a casual kind of guy.”

“No problem.”

When she stepped into Jack's small apartment, her eyes moved from the galley kitchen to the living room. “Is this like where you stay during the week?”

“You mean like a corporate apartment?”

“I think that’s what it’s called.”

“Nope. This is home sweet home seven days a week.” He took a few steps into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Are those”—she nodded at the couch. “I can't think of—”

“TV trays.” Jack finished. "As you can see there’s no room for a table."

He opened the refrigerator and took out the Pino Grigio. “White?”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Is white wine okay? Or would you prefer red?”

“White's fine.”

God, he hoped he wouldn’t have to carry the conversation the entire night. When they'd chatted online she’d been outgoing, upbeat, and friendly.

After he placed a small plate and a cocktail napkin on each tray, Jack took the cheese puffs out of the oven, transferring them to a serving plate.

"Try one,” he said, offering her a cheesy, gooey pastry.

She picked up a puff and took a dainty bite.

“What are these?’ Angelique asked.

Jack sat down at the other end of the couch. “In France, they are called a gougère. In the states, they’re usually called a cheese puff.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Get them?”

“Like what restaurant?”

“I’m the chef,” Jack said.

“Where?” She asked, wide-eyed. “Have I been to your restaurant?”

“I meant I make everything inside of these four walls.” He put the plate between them on the couch, sat down, and picked up his wine. “I enjoy cooking.”

“What about you?” Jack asked, breaking the silence.

“What about me?”

“What do you enjoy doing?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Everything.”

“You like to cook?”

“God, no. I burn everything.”

Jack noticed her glass was empty. “More wine?”

“Yes.”

He poured a couple of inches of wine into her glass and went back to the kitchen to stir the soup.

“What do you do?” she asked when he set the soup spoon and bowl of bisque on her tray.

“I’m in the computer business.”

“What’s your title?”

Jack cringed, the question reminding him of what he hated most about dating.

“A little bit of everything. Sales mostly.”

“Like at a Best Buy?”

“Kind of." He served himself, took his place on the couch, and pulled the foldable tray toward him.

“Mind if use your restroom?”

"Not at all." He nodded at his bedroom door. “Right through there.”

“On your profile,” Jack said when Angelique returned, “I noticed you do volunteer work."

When she didn't respond, he tasted the bisque, noting it was better than the last time he made it.

When Angelique’s phone rang, she bent over and took the cell out of her purse. “Sorry,” she said, looking at the screen. “I need to take this.”

“Hello," she said and then sat up straight. Wait. Calm down, and tell me what’s going on.” She placed her hand over her forehead, the expression on her face somber. “What hospital?"

Jack moved his tray forward.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Angelique shoved her cell into her purse. “I have to go.”

“I’m sorry. Can I drive you to the hospital?”

“No. I’m too upset. I’ll grab a cab.” She hurried to the door. “My friend has been in an accident and—”

“The least I can do is hail you a…”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him before disappearing behind elevator doors.

Jack stood in his doorway for a few seconds. What the hell? He’d heard of women asking a friend to call with a fake crisis, saving them from a boring date. Had she texted a friend when she was in the bathroom? Told them to call so she could get away from Jack? Hell, he should have done the same thing. She hadn't been here two hours but it seemed like ten.

He needed to take a walk; clear his head. After he took out a light jacket from the coat closet, his cell buzzed, signaling he had a message.

How dare you make yourself out to be someone you aren’t. In your picture on you had a suit and tie on and then you disrespect me by wearing a t-shirt and jeans???? You led me to believe you are a successful, confident man, and you live in a rundown apartment in nowhereville? Stay in your own league, buddy. I have no desire to waste my time on a computer salesman, let alone date one!

THE HAPPENCHANCE

He hit a button on his phone. “Yes, Paige?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a lady downstairs who's insisting she see you,” his assistant said. “I don't see there's an appointment with an Angelique today.”

Jack thought for a few seconds. He'd only met one woman with that name. It had been months since she'd come to his apartment. How had she found him? He’d never given her his last name.

“Send her up."

A few minutes later, there was a knock on his office door. Jack leaned back in his high-backed leather chair. ”Come in.”

When Paige opened the door, once again, Angelique was impeccably dressed in a white double-breasted pantsuit. The colorful silk scarf around her neck framed a pearl necklace.

“I apologize for just...you know...showing up,” Angelique stammered. “Somehow I lost your phone number.”

You mean deleted my number, Jack thought.

“Paige, hold my calls," Jack said.

“Of course,” Paige answered, eyeing Angelique.

Jack stood and walked around to the front of his massive cherry wood desk.

“This office,” Angelique looked around wide-eyed. “It’s incredible.” She slapped a hand over one hip. “And just look at you. The suit. The tasteful tie. You're lookin' good, Jack.”

“Thank you.”

She turned and walked to the wall of windows in the large office that took the entire fifteenth floor. “You're like at the top of the world here.” She turned and faced him. “I guess you're wondering why I'm here?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“I…” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I had no idea that—”

“I had money?" Jack interrupted.

"No, no, no." She waved a dismissing hand. "That's not what this is about. It's just that I can't stop thinking about you."

"How'd you find me?" Jack asked.

"I saw an interview with you on the morning show. I honestly feel it was karma; a sign we are destined to be together.” She placed a hand over her heart. "I mean, I rarely watch the news, so why that morning? When I saw you, I knew. I knew we—“.

"Angelique."

“I know what you’re going to say but you weren’t honest.” She started to pace. “I think I sensed you weren’t being truthful and it made me uncomfortable.”

‘How so?” Jack asked, crossing his arms over each other. “What wasn’t I honest with you about?”

“You said you were in computer sales.”

“I am in computer sales,” he answered calmly.

“But you didn’t tell me you owned one of the top ten computer companies in the world.”

“Rizzo, Inc,” Jack said, “named after my Italian grandfather’s surname. is where I work, not who I am. When I have the time to socialize, I avoid discussing work.”

Seeing Angelique on the verge of tears, Jack nodded at the two chairs in front of him that faced his desk. “Please. Sit.”

“I don’t want to sit. I want another chance.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Please, I’m a nice person. I just—”

“I need to tell you something.”

After Angelique sat down, Jack turned the other chair toward her and sat down.

“I want to thank you,” Jack said, sincerely, looking into her eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

"After you left that night, I was just about to go for a walk when I read your text."

“Again.” She shook her head. “I’m sor—”

Jack put up a hand. “Bear with me. When I started down the stairway I saw a young woman coming toward me carrying a large box. I asked if I could help. She was leery at first but I told her I was harmless and, for some reason, she believed me.”

“Okay, but I don’t underst—”

“She was moving into the apartment two doors down from me,” Jack continued. “After we unloaded her car, I told her I was going for a walk and she asked if she could join me. And, when we got back, I invited her to my apartment for a glass of merlot.”

“You’re involved,” Angelique said deflated.

“If you hadn't come to my apartment that night,” Jack said, “and hadn't left when you did, I might never have met the woman I hope to cherish for the rest of my life.”