Ethan's eyes lit up, and I could see behind his glasses that they were a silvery gray.
He was fairly cute, in a reserved, conservative way. "Exactly! That's where it gets tricky. Where do you draw the line between using work you've done at one company in your next job, and merely applying the experience you've gained?"
"But haven't employers taken too strict an interpretation of that?" Marcia asked, her attention back to us now that her date was paying attention to me. I left them to their argument, glad that I had nothing of value to take from my last job. I'd only learned a lot about what not to do. Even though no one in New York was impressed with that particular item on my resume, my lifetime of handling the business side of the feed-and-seed store was still the most valuable real-world experience I had. I wondered if my parents could accuse me of intellectual property theft.
I'd run out of questions to ask Pat, and he hadn't bothered asking me anything, which was probably for the best, given that I didn't yet have a good explanation for my new job. Talking about work could get me in trouble. His eyes were focused on something in the distance behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a TV set mounted above the bar. Good. At least he'd be entertained. Meanwhile, I could enjoy my meal in peace and think about everything that had happened to me this week.
By the time the salads came, Ethan and Marcia were debating something to do with the economy, and it wasn't a foreplay debate loaded with sexual tension. They clearly weren't hitting it off well and had given up trying to make a good impression on each other. Meanwhile, Gemma and Will would be on the floor under the table before we got to dessert, at the rate they were going. I ate my salad in silence as I tried to decide which was worse, a date who wouldn't shut up or a date who wouldn't
talk at all.
A group of women with wings came through the door. Out of habit, I turned to see if anyone else noticed them and saw that Ethan was frowning. For a second I thought he must have noticed the fairies, too, but then he took off his glasses, polished them, and put them back on. Nothing more magical than a smudged lens, then. And I could tell from the foot that kept accidentally bumping against mine under the table that he was, indeed, solid and real. I decided his mind was just clearly elsewhere and that was what gave him such a vague look.
It felt like we were going to break the New York record for longest dinner ever by the time we got dessert and coffee. I couldn't take any more of Pat's silence and retreated to the restroom while the others finished their dessert. Armed with fresh lipstick, I returned to the table just in time to hear Pat talking to Jim. "It'd be like dating my sister," he said. It was a safe guess who he was talking about. I got that reaction from men all the time. I could understand it in a small town where most of the boys were my brothers' friends, but how did it transfer to New York, where nobody even knew my family?
Finally, everyone finished their coffee and we made our way out of the restaurant. I wasn't at all surprised when Gemma and Will announced that they were going to hit a nearby jazz club. They invited the rest of us, but clearly didn't want us to take them up on the offer. I didn't expect Gemma to make it home tonight. The rest of us said insincere things about how nice it was to meet each other, then said good night for the evening without bothering to exchange contact information. You know your blind date hasn't gone well when nobody even asks for a phone number.
Jim and Connie hailed a cab, and Marcia linked her arm through mine. "Want to walk home?" she asked. "I need to work off that dinner."
I wasn't wearing the best shoes for walking, and I'd already had two long walks that day, but walking through the Village at night is almost magical—but not in the real magic way, with spells and illusions and all that. Though come to think of it, I'd seen more than the expected amount of weirdness in the Village at night and written it off as just another New York thing. It would be interesting to see how much of it really was magical.
Marcia and I headed off down Bleecker toward our side of the island. The whole time we walked, Marcia complained about her date. "Could you believe him? All he could talk about was work."
"Y'all talked about more than work. You were arguing a lot."
"About work. He questioned everything I said."
"He's a lawyer. He's used to having toanalyze and interpret everything."
"Don't tell me you're defending him," she said with a laugh.
"No, not really. He was just more interesting than my date. At least he actually spoke."
"You do have a point there."
"And he didn't think of you as an annoying little sister."
She winced. "So, you heard that."
"I came back from the bathroom at a very good time."
"If it makes you feel better, he did say you were okay, cute, even."
"But he's just not interested in that way." I couldn't fight back a sigh. Was it too much to ask to make a man's heart beat faster, just once?
She gave my arm a squeeze. "Don't worry about it. Your time will come. You just have to meet the right guy who appreciates you for what you are."
"Marce, I'm your age, remember. You don't have to treat me like your kid sister."
"Sorry about that. But look on the bright side. A few years from now you'll be glad for people to think you're younger. And like I said, you have to find the right guy.
You're the kind of girl men go for when they're ready to settle down."
"So I'm not the kind of girl they want to go out with when they want a good time?"
"Is that so bad?"
"I don't know." To be honest with myself, I wasn't anyone's idea of a good-time girl.
I was the kind of woman who made people think of things like apple pie and picket fences. That didn't make me very popular in a place like New York, where people came to get away from picket fences.
"I guess those are two guys we can cross off our lists of Mr. Right potentials,"
Marcia said, interrupting my musings.
"How many million does that leave in the city?"
"It can't be a million, not if we exclude men who are gay, married, or seriously involved, or that we've gone out with before. We've got to be down to the thousands."
I had another category to add to that: men who weren't quite human, and I wasn't sure where men who could make things appear and disappear at will fit on the scale of eligibility. I was pretty sure that apple pie and picket fences weren't what they were looking for in a woman. If my degree of ordinary was boring for normal men, I'd send magical men straight into a coma.
SIX
Tuesday morning came a lot more quickly than I expected. After dressing in my second-best suit, I took the subway to work, and I was relieved to see Owen standing on the platform at the Union Square station. It meant I wouldn't have to walk into the building by myself. "Hi there!" I greeted him.
He turned his usual shade of pink before responding. "Good morning, Katie. I'm glad you're joining us."
"So am I. I'm excited about it. And a little nervous." I figured that he, of all people, should be able to understand some nervousness about a new situation.
He gave me one of his mischievous grins, and my knees went just a bit weak. "Want to get to work early?"
"Oh, why not?" Still smiling, he did something with his left hand, and sure enough, a train hurried out of the tunnel to stop in front of us. "After you," he said with a gallant gesture. There weren't any empty seats, but we found an empty pole to cling to. "Want to make it an express trip?" he whispered to me.
"I don't think that's necessary," I whispered back. "Let's not inconvenience everyone else."
He turned crimson. "I did summon another train right behind ours so they weren't inconvenienced that much."
"That was awfully sweet of you." I wondered what he'd do if I kissed him on the cheek, but I was rusty on CPR, and I doubted it would be an appropriate way to interact with a coworker even if he didn't have a heart attack.