Unlucky in Love
Chapter 4Days went by, then weeks. They spent every spare moment together, either at her apartment or his. Chow Ling's remained a favorite, and that's where they went to celebrate every milestone in their relationship, including the successful conclusion of a case. She longed to hear him say "I love you" and he tried his best to show her in every way that he did, but the words still stuck in his throat. Every time he tried to get them out, something prevented it.
Slowly the office business began to grow. For every step he took forward he had to take two steps back. He kept working at it, but it seemed that most of the cases he got had already been rejected by every other private investigator in town. He needed a big case, just one big case, but nothing that even closely resembled that came his way. Everything that rang his phone or knocked on his door was a nickel and dime case, and after having the office open for several months he was still scraping to get by.
While it was hard to make it work during the week, Sundays were glorious. They'd meet at the diner on 40th street; if they got there before 8 o'clock the breakfast special of two slices of toast, four strips of bacon and two eggs was only $1.99, and they split one between them. Coffee was still ten cents a cup, even if they came late; in that case it was two pieces of toast each for forty-five cents. Then it was back to one of their apartments to lie on the bed and read the New York Times. She started with the fashion section and he got the sports page, and when everything was done but the comics, they were read out loud. Joe Palooka, Moon Mullins, Smilin'Jack, Jane Arden, Dick Tracy, Rex Morgan, M.D., Li'l Abner, and Peanuts were their favorites, but there were others, too.
When the Times was ready for the trash can, they went for a walk in the park. Arm in arm or hand in hand they strolled, stopping to watch anything that interested them. Once a month they went to Central Park and then on to the zoo, and those were special Sundays. He made her laugh with all his silly jokes and she made him smile with her quick wit and great beauty. If they had enough money they'd stop at Chow Ling's on the way home for dinner; if they didn't they'd go back to somebody's apartment, and that person would cook. Stu picked it up faster than Connie did and turned into a better-than-average chef.
Connie got a promotion at work and was put in charge of the fragrance department. It meant longer hours, but with that came more money. She was ecstatic for the extra funds but felt bad for Stuart, whose business was still struggling. When they went to Chow Ling's that night to celebrate her promotion she tried to pay for dinner. He seemed insulted, and told her to put her money away. If he couldn't afford to buy them dinner, he thought, he couldn't afford her. Connie quietly withdrew the offer.
Something had changed; there was no sense denying it. She invested in a new wardrobe and had to spend a day or two at each Macy's in the area, sometimes requiring an overnight stay. Stuart wasn't happy when she was out-of-town, but what could he do? It was part of her new job, and he had no right to tell her not to take the promotion. Sometimes when he got a case and solved it satisfactorily she was somewhere else in the city, and there was no celebration at Chow Ling's, no holding her in his arms and kissing her goodnight, only a cold and impersonal phone call. He began to feel like he was losing her to her job.
Connie was enjoying her new position. It was different and exciting, and she enjoyed being the boss. She missed Stuart terribly when she was gone, but she couldn't deny it was as wonderful as always when she was at home. She was as happy as she'd ever been and didn't notice the worry etched on his face.
After almost a year of beating his head against the wall, business began to increase. The man he worked for was pleased with the steady growth and increased his salary noticeably, but he was still making barely enough to stay alive and less than Connie. Their times together were less frequent and he began to be irritable; she seemed always to be distracted.
Stuart was worried sick; no matter the growing distance between them he was still crazy in love with her. He had one final move left, and he determined that he was going to use it after she told him she had to travel to Albany to help set up a new store and would be gone a week. She was distracted, with details and plans filling her mind; he was desperate. The week was agony for him . . . she made his life worth living.
He met her at the Penn Station in a cab, and as soon as they were settled comfortably inside he told the driver "Chow Ling's, please."
She smiled at him the way she hadn't for quite a while and said, "I wouldn't mind if we went to The Four Season's."
"No, tonight is special. I'd rather go to Chow Ling's." She had no idea what he was planning, but the tone of his voice was so insistent that she agreed. It had been a long time since they'd been there.
Chow Ling himself was there tonight, and he greeted them like old friends. Stuart might have had some misgivings before they got there, but those all faded when they were in the familiar surroundings of what used to be their special place.
"Chow Ling, may we have some plum wine, please?" Stuart requested of the owner. There was something different about him tonight, and Chow Ling guessed that this was a particularly special occasion. He brought them a bottle of his best plum wine and two of his finest crystal goblets. After pouring their wine he discreetly removed himself from the table.
"Where did Chow Ling disappear to?" Connie wondered. It wasn't like him to vanish into thin air. "I'm hungry."
"I asked him to leave us alone after he brought the wine," Stu answered her. "I have something to tell you, and a question to ask."
"What are you being so mysterious about?"
"I'm not being mysterious, Connie." Stu took several swallows of his plum wine, then he cleared his throat. "I . . . I . . .I . . ." It was no good. As much as he wanted to say "I love you" he couldn't get the words out. He didn't worry about not being able to say it; he knew what he felt, and he loved her, without doubt. So he switched tactics.
"I want us to be together forever. Will you marry me, Connie Falconari?"
She stared at him for a moment as if he had two heads. She'd waited so long to hear him say "I love you" that she never imagined he would ask for her hand in marriage without saying those words. Now she did exactly what he'd done, picked up her glass and took several large swallows of plum wine. Then with the biggest smile she could manage she slipped her hand in his.
"Yes, Stuart Bailey, I will marry you."