Christmas and Tchaikovsky – Part 3

She could barely eat a bite; she was so nervous.  Tonight, was her date with Chance Ford.  It occurred to her that she really didn’t even know the guy.  At any rate, she had spent a small fortune on finding the right dress. It was red velvet, off-the-shoulder, and fit her like a glove.  Artie had been with her on the previous Saturday when she came out of the dressing room at The French Shoppe.

“Wowzah, girlfriend! You cannot get anything else between you and that dress!” Artie exclaimed.

Preening in front of the mirror, Libby suddenly felt self-conscious.  “Do you think it’s too suggestive?  I do not want to give him the wrong idea right out of the gate.” Artie could see that Libby was already second guessing her dress selection.

“Girl, that is THE dress.  You must get it.” Artie still felt all this effort was for nothing but another guy passing through, but she smartly kept her opinion to herself and tried to support her friend whom she loved dearly.

“Are you sure??” Libby looked at herself one last time before changing.  It really did look good on her.  With her mom’s cashmere stole, it would be perfect for a night at TPAC.

“YES! I would not let you go on a date with Prince Charming dressed like Cinderella’s stepsisters.  It looks perfect against your auburn hair.  Be sure to wear a blue-red lipstick.  Nothing worse than a chick wearing the wrong shade of red.  You’d be surprised how many women get that wrong.  An orange-red with a blue-red outfit or vice versa.”  Artie was eating a bag of M&M’s while Libby changed.  Coming out of the dressing room with the dress carefully draped over her arm Libby asked, “Where in the world do you get this stuff? I have never met anyone more obsessed with lipstick than you.”

Walking up to the register to check out, Artie took Libby’s purse while she dealt with the dress.  “It is taught early in an Indian girl’s life.  We are drilled on color in clothing and make-up. It’s a rite of passage. Besides, a little color just opens up your whole face.”

What would she and her own mother have talked about had she known her?  All she had was the stories Reggie had shared and the pictures that were framed hanging on the walls of her apartment.  Her mother Olivia had been a beautiful redhead and from time-to-time she caught a glimpse of her likeness in her own mirror.

Michael agreed to man the counter while she ran around the corner to the UPS Store to drop off a package for a customer. When she got back, she noticed another box with her name.  This box was longer than the previous two.  Taking it into her office, she found two tickets to The Nutcracker performance that evening at 7 p.m.  She knew it!  Also, there was a card that read: “See you tonight. I’ll be the one with the rose.” How romantic.  She held the tickets near her heart and did a little chair dance!

The afternoon seemed to drag, but finally she was able to leave things with Artie as Michael had left early for a doctor’s appointment. Running upstairs, she could hardly contain her excitement and she laid the beautiful red velvet dress across her bed. She curled her hair the way the stylist had shown her and added the finishing touches to her makeup. Lastly, the final detail, her mother’s white cashmere stole around her shoulders. She stood back and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.  If her dad could see her now.  He would say what he always said, “Libby girl, you are a vision of your mother.” She grabbed her evening handbag with the two tickets snug inside and headed downstairs.

Given all this effort, she decided she may as well splurge on an Uber to make the drive across town.  As they pulled up to Morton’s, a doorman immediately opened the door and helped her from the backseat.  Libby felt like a celebrity as she smoothed down her dress; the butterflies in her stomach were going crazy!  She walked into the dimly lit restaurant that boasted the best steaks in Nashville.  More than one head turned as she made her way to the maître de.  She gave her name and was told that Mr. Ford was already waiting for her.  As she neared the table, she could see the expression on Chance’s face.  One of pleasure and surprise.  He took her hand, helped her off with her stole and asked the maître de for their server.  She noticed he was wearing a sports blazer and turtleneck which seemed a bit casual for the theater.  Had she overdressed in her excitement?

“Wow, Libby McBride.  I must say you sure clean up well. Do you have a hot date with that Prince Charming of yours?” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.  Thinking it was still a game, she went along and in her most flirty voice answered, “Perhaps Mr. Ford, why don’t you tell me?” The server had just sat down their drinks when Chance leaned in and said, “Well, whoever Prince Charming is, he is one lucky guy,” and winked.

As they began to make small talk he asked if she would like an appetizer.  She politely declined saying she didn’t want to spoil dinner.  He nodded as though he understood.  He explained that he had not been in Nashville very long and was trying to network and make new friends and contacts.  Libby wasn’t entirely sure where this was going but she answered his questions about the different neighborhoods and shared her opinions. He seemed to appreciate her thoughts and talked a lot about her being a true native of Nashville.  He finally leaned in closer and said, “Libby, I have a confession to make. There is something I’ve been dying to talk to you about for weeks, but I didn’t want to come across too presumptuous.”

Still clueless, Libby smiled and encouraged him to continue, “Well, sure, what is it, Chance?”

Before he could speak further, the maître de appeared with a tall, beautiful brunette by his side.  “Mr. Ford, your date.” 

DATE? Chance immediately went around to the young woman and kissed her full on the mouth. “Darling, you are just in time.  I want you to meet Libby McBride, the owner of the cute little bookshop I’ve been telling you about.”  Libby was confused and mortified but she hoped the expression on her face did not betray her.  “Libby, this is my fiancé, Claudia Gibbons, soon Mrs. Ford.”

A lovely hand with lacquered nails presented itself in front of her.  “Oh, Libby!  How wonderful to meet you finally. Chance has talked about nothing for weeks but your little Books and Beans.”

Taking her hand, Libby murmured, “Nice to meet you, too.” Just as though she had known of her existence.  Apparently, she hadn’t known anything, most of which was that this was NOT a date.  She wasn’t sure what this was, but she’d be damned if she cried in front of these people.  Pulling herself up in true McBride fashion, she looked at Chance. “So, what is it that you have been working up the courage to ask me?” She looked from one to the other.  Catching each other’s eyes, she could see the appeal in Claudia’s eyes to Chance.

“Libby, would you entertain the idea of selling your building to me and Claudia? She is an artist, and we would love to have a studio, along with an office for myself in the same building as our home.  I am a real estate broker and have ideas of redeveloping Riverside Village.  This would be home-base if you agree.  What do you think?” You could see both Chance and Claudia almost hold their breath.

Totally stunned, she just sat there staring at them for a full thirty seconds before her McBride anger rose from the pit of her stomach.  Had he been appearing sweet and interested all these weeks only to butter her up as a motive to persuade her to sell her building? And for what? Just so he could tear it down to build more of the same tall skinnies that were going up everywhere all-around Nashville?  Why flirt with her for weeks? Why invite her to have drinks? Why now just ask her directly in a real business meeting?  Her heart was pounding, and she felt nauseous. She had to get out of here.

Rising from her seat, “I’m sorry, Chance, Claudia.  I am suddenly not feeling very well.  I apologize, but I need to leave.  I appreciate your interest in my building, but under no circumstances will I ever sell it and certainly not so it could be “redeveloped.”  If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your evening.”  Grabbing her stole and purse she was gone before either of them could even stand up.  By the time she reached the sidewalk, huge tears were pouring down her face.  All she knew to do was walk.  Walk as fast as she could.  What an utter fool she was.  All these weeks thinking Chance Ford was actually interested in her.  What a joke!  He only wanted her building!  Hell would freeze over before she’d ever sell the Books and Beans to a developer.  They were slowly demolishing the Nashville she knew and loved.  Many in the neighborhood felt the same. 

She was standing in front of TPAC before she knew it.  She had totally forgotten about the two tickets in her purse.  If Chance Ford had not given them to her, then who had?  She looked around.  Seeing no one she knew or anyone holding a rose, she entered the building and headed for the ladies to repair her face.  She would figure out what the devil she was doing while there.  Fifteen minutes later, she entered the lobby looking a little more like herself.  The tears were gone, her lipstick (a blue-red shade) was in place. She had no idea who had gifted her these tickets, but she was dressed up, standing in the middle of TPAC’s lobby and dammit, she was going to the ballet! The seats were in the Orchestra level, the best section in the house.  She wondered if she should go back out in the lobby and wait or see if someone came to claim the seat next to her.  She decided to take a seat and see what happened. By the opening curtain, no one had appeared to claim the seat next to her, so she just tried to put the start of the evening out of her mind and enjoy the performance.

The ballet was just as wonderful as she remembered.  More tears as the Sugar Plum Fairy gave her dance, and at the end when the nutcracker came to life to battle with the evil Mouse King, all the longing in her heart just bubbled up.  Missing her dad, feeling so alone, making a fool of herself over Chance Ford.  Try as she might, the tears just would not stop.  Thankfully, she had one of her dad’s handkerchiefs in her handbag.  As she made her way through the crowd and out into the night air, there happened to be a taxi at the curb.  She immediately rushed to see if it was waiting for someone.  Within minutes she was dropped off at her door.  At last, this disastrous night was over!

Struggling out of the beautiful red velvet dress, she pulled on her old faithful holey nightshirt and crawled into bed with Spartacus.  Rivers of tears poured out of her.  She missed her dad and she felt like a complete idiot.  Seeing the ballet only made her realize how sad and lonely she had been.  She still didn’t know who had sent all the little gifts but at this point, all she wanted to do was slip away and drown in her tears.  What was wrong with her?  Why did she have to be so alone?  Spartacus, reacting to her tears, stretched out next to her as if to say, “You are not alone, I’m here.” Finally spent, she fell into a fitful sleep.