Getting Some Of Her Own by Gwynne Forster

said nothing. Then, his voice came in something akin to a growl. “That night, you told me that you felt good in my arms. You still do.” Before she could respond, he strode to the door and left.
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    You could have told her that over the phone. Lucas didn’t try to justify having gone to Susan’s house. He knew she had lunch with Jay Weeks, because he saw them leave the café together. He wasn’t jealous, but if she wanted the company of a man, why not him? He admitted to himself that he wanted evidence that she hadn’t been able to dismiss making love with him as an insignificant moment in her life. In fact, he told himself, “I’ll show her a thing or two.”
    The next morning, he phoned a butcher and had a turkey sent to his mother for their Christmas dinner. It had been that way all of his life. He shared his life with his mother and his friends and always wondered what home life was like when both mother and father were present. He looked at his latest draft for Hamilton Village, the retirement complex that he envisioned for Woodmore. If he could get the backing for it, both his status as an architect and his financial position would surpass his dreams. Satisfied that he had enough of a plan to attract his targeted investor, he rolled up the draft and went to keep his appointment with the CEO of Muller Furniture, Inc.
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    â€œMy board and I have considered this carefully,” Jack Muller told Lucas, “and I think we can do business. Of course, I’m hoping the people will buy their new furniture from me. We’re one of the largest, oldest and finest furniture makers in the state.”
    â€œIf you give them an attractive deal, you should do well.” It hadn’t been easy. He’d been dickering with Muller for at least a year before the man encouraged him to draft a basic plan.
    â€œWho’s your contractor?”
    â€œCarter. He puts up all of my houses and buildings. We’ve been working together for a long time.”
    â€œAll right. Let’s meet at the bank tomorrow at ten.”
    Lucas left Muller’s office satisfied that he was one big step closer to meeting Calvin Jackson face to face. He had to go over the blueprints once more with Willis, but didn’t expect that his friend would find much to question.
    He had the title to the land, the blueprints and the promise of funding. God willing, they could break ground for Phase I in March.

    Having finished redecorating the master bedroom in her house, Susan was anxious to leave the apartment that she rented. “Imagine how this living room would look with a big, beautifully decorated spruce tree beside the fireplace,” she said to Willis and the two men who were working with him in the kitchen of her house. “Too bad I won’t be able to move in before Christmas.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a Christmas tree here,” one of them said. “The plumbing will be in order, and we’ll have the tiled floor, the stove and refrigerator in place. You can get water from the bathroom.”
    She phoned her landlord, gave notice and settled into her house three days later. She bought a tree, decorated it, and prepared to have Christmas Eve dinner alone for the first time in her life. On an impulse, she phoned Jay Weeks and invited him to dinner. To her amazement, he accepted, telling her that bad weather was forecast for Vermont, and he’d decided not to go skiing.
    On Christmas Eve, she built a fire in the fireplace, scattered pecans in the ashes to roast, and put a goose in the oven. Jay Weeks proved to be the perfect guest, as she had suspected he would be, and she served a near perfect dinner.
    â€œIn New York, my friends and I would go to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine for midnight service on Christmas Eve,” she told him. “Is that a custom here?”
    â€œAt the Catholic churches, but I’m not