A new year generally starts out with me writing a few
inspiring lines about how I'm going to lose five pounds —
let's be honest, it's ten — and pay off all my credit
cards and other high expectations like that. It's the same
every January. But this year's going to be different. Oh,
I still want to lose those extra pounds, more than ever,
but for a different reason.
I want a husband. And eventually a family. And that means
I need a plan. Being a goal-oriented person, I usually
begin by identifying what I'm after (MARRIAGE!!) and then
I work out a logical procedure for getting it. Which, in
this case, includes looking good. (Not that I look bad
now, if I do say so myself. But I'm talking really good.
Are you listening, thighs?) Because, as I've learned in
advertising, packaging counts.
Putting all this into words is something of an eye-opener
for me. I've come a long way from those college days when
I refused to give in to what I called the "female escape
route," like some of my friends. Cassie, Jamie, Rita and
Jane all got married within six months of graduation, and
as far as I could see, the only reason they did was
because they found the real world more of a challenge than
they'd anticipated, and used marriage as a cop-out.
Not me. Oh, no, marriage was much too conventional for me.
I wanted to kick some butt in the business world first.
Make a name for myself with my very own graphic arts firm.
And I've done it! Now I feel like I've come full circle.
I've accomplished a lot, and I won't minimize my
achievements, but this Christmas I realized there's more
to life than getting the Woman of the Year award from the
Chamber of Commerce.
So, last week I made the decision: Marriage! It's time to
let a man into my life. Until now I've viewed
relationships like…dessert. Nice occasionally, but not
with every meal. My friends have been tossing potential
husbands in my direction for years, and I've frustrated
them again and again.
I'm too picky, that's what Rita says. Not true. I have my
standards; every woman does. But my work's the reason I
haven't married. I've poured my heart into making a
success of Artistic License. For the past six years my
focus, my talent and all my energy have been with the
business. It's filled every waking minute.
Then, this Christmas it hit me. I want more. I suspect
this has something to do with losing Dad last June. Mom's
still struggling, but then so are Julie and I. The
holidays were really hard without him. Somehow, the
celebration seemed empty and sad, and we were all kind of
weepy thinking about the Christmas things he used to do —
getting the tree every year and making a big deal out of
hanging the decorations Julie and I made when we were
kids. Reading the Nativity story on Christmas Eve. Putting
on his Santa apron to carve the turkey. Things like that.
I'm so sorry Dad missed his granddaughter's first
Christmas. I knew Julie's baby would help Mom through the
grieving process, but I didn't expect little Ellen to have
such a profound effect on me.
I've always thought of myself as the strong independent
type. I haven't wanted a man around for fear I might be
forced to admit I need someone. I don't know why I'm like
this. (Then again, I'm not sure I want to know, either.)
The point is, I feel differently now.
It started when Julie gave me the baby to rock. I swear my
heart melted when I held her. In that moment I felt
something I can only describe as maternal instinct, and I
realized this is what I want. This is what's been missing
from my life. A husband, a family.
With the right husband, I know I can have it all. Home,
family and career. Plenty of women do it, and I can, too.
Funny how a little thing like holding a baby can change a
person's attitude. I'm ready. Past ready. Starting now, my
life's taken an abrupt turn. What was vital a month ago
has shifted to the back burner.
So, yes, I admit it.
I want a husband and children. Obviously, what I need
first is the man. (I plan to do things in the right order!)
Mom always says that once I make up my mind I don't let
anything stand in my way. I've set my goal, made my plans,
and I figure I should find a husband in two, three months,
tops. This time next year, I expect to be a married woman.
(Maybe even a pregnant one!)
Just how difficult can it be?
Sweat rolled down Hallie McCarthy's forehead, dripping in
her eyes and momentarily blurring her vision. Using the
towel draped around her neck, she wiped her brow. Although
she'd promised herself she wouldn't, Hallie glanced at the
timer on the treadmill.
One minute left.
Sixty short seconds. She could endure that. With a renewed
sense of purpose, she picked up her pace and waited
impatiently for the buzzer.
The treadmill had all the bells and whistles, as it
should, considering what she'd paid for it (plus the three
designer running suits, color-coordinated with the
treadmill). At the end of her workout a digital message
would flash across the four-inch computer screen,
complimenting her on a job well-done.
Donnalee had suggested she join a gym to meet men, and she
would, Hallie told herself, once she was at her goal
weight. But not now. She wasn't about to go prancing
around a gym with thighs that resembled ham hocks. Which,
she supposed, was something like cleaning her house before
the cleaning lady arrived — but she'd done that, too.
Huffing, her heart feeling ready to explode, Hallie
gripped the sides of the treadmill as the timer counted
down those final seconds. This last minute was proving to
be the longest of her life.
Needing a distraction to take her mind off the physical
agony while she raced toward an imaginary finish line,
Hallie turned to look out her living-room window at the
luxury condominium next door.
Hey, she was getting a new neighbor. A moving van was
parked in front and a crew of able-bodied men — very able-
bodied, she noted appreciatively — unloaded its contents.A
big truck that probably required a step stool to climb
into was parked behind it. The license-plate frame was one
of those customized ones. Squinting, she was able to make
out the words: BIG TRUCK. BIG TOOLS. Hallie groaned aloud
and rolled her eyes. Men and their egos! Two muscular guys
wandered into her line of vision, and she wondered if one
of those good-looking hunks might be her neighbor.
Willow Woods, the condominium complex where she'd moved
six months earlier, had all but sold out. She'd speculated
it wouldn't take long for the place next to hers to sell.
Especially since it was a three-bedroom unit, the most
spacious design available. Must be a family moving in. She
was definitely cheered by the thought of having neighbors.
The timer went off, and the treadmill ground to a halt.
Hallie heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed her sweat-
drenched face with the towel. Her cheeks felt red and hot
and her short curly hair was matted against her temples.
Her old gray sweats — she didn't feel comfortable sweating
in her new color-coordinated ones — were loose around the
waist. A promising sign. The temptation to run into the
bathroom and leap on the scale was strong, but she'd made
that mistake too often and vowed she'd only weigh herself
once a week. Monday morning, bright and early — that was
when she'd do it.
She'd lost five pounds in twenty-one days. The first two
had fallen away easily, but the last three had been like
chiseling at a concrete block with a tablespoon. She'd
starved herself, exercised faithfully. She'd counted fat
grams, carbohydrates, calories and chocolate chips to
little avail.
Her best friend, Donnalee Cooper, claimed Hallie was
putting too much stock in the physical, but Hallie
believed otherwise. It was that packaging thing again. The
men she knew based their reactions to women — at least
their initial reactions — on looks. It didn't matter if
the woman had a brain in her head as long as her waist was
tiny…and her other assets weren't. Of course, attracting a
man wasn't Hallie's only incentive for becoming physically
fit. She didn't exercise nearly enough, had taken to
skipping breakfast and was downing fast food on the run.
Not a healthy lifestyle. Donnalee seemed unconvinced when
Hallie explained this, though, pointing out that she
hadn't worried about her health before.
Donnalee was single, although she'd had a brief disastrous
marriage in her early twenties. To Hallie's delight, when
she'd shared her goal of finding a man and marrying within
the next twelve months, Donnalee had decided to join
forces with her. She said that she'd never meant to wait
this long to remarry, and like Hallie, she wanted
children. But Donnalee brought a different strategy to
their marriage campaign.
"Just be yourself," she'd advised.
"Being myself hasn't attracted a whole lot of attention so
far," Hallie complained. That, at least, shut her friend
up. Dating opportunities had dwindled to a trickle in the
last few years, but she was determined to improve the
situation.
Hallie showered and changed clothes, then phoned her
mother who lived across Puget Sound in Bremerton, on the
Kitsap Peninsula. Hallie and her father had been close,
both in personality and in appearance, but it was from her
mother that she'd inherited her artistic talent. Despite
her ability, Lucille McCarthy had never worked outside the
home. It had always troubled Hallie that a woman so
genuinely talented would be content to do little more than
keep house. Not until she was an adult living on her own
did she recognize her mother's contribution to the family.
Over the months since her father's sudden death, Hallie
had come to appreciate her mother's quiet strength. At
Christmas, she'd encouraged her to take up oil painting,
and Lucille had recently begun a class.
The conversation went well, with Lucille cheerfully
describing the portrait she'd started to paint of a
sleeping Ellen. Afterward, Hallie wrote her weekly grocery
list, threw on a jacket and hurried out the door, eager to
finish her Saturday-morning chores. It was when she
climbed into her car that she saw her new neighbor. At
least, she thought he was the one. He was tall and not as
brawny as she'd thought at first glance. Solid, she
decided. All shoulders, with good upper-body strength.
Handsome, too, in an unobtrusive way. In other words,
seeing him didn't make her heart beat faster — which was
just as well, since he was obviously married with children.
He did have an interesting face, a lived-in face, and
seemed the type of person she'd like to know. Not
romantically, of course, but maybe as a friend. She turned
her attention from him to the two kids at his side. A girl
and boy, who were probably about eleven and nine. Great-
looking kids. The girl waved, her smile wide and friendly.
Hallie waved back, inserted the key into the ignition and
drove off.
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