Chapter 3

It was a month later. Denise and Stan had been on six dates now and were firmly established as real friends and not just as work colleagues. Denise chuckled in her mind about being 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend', but they both didn't really think of it that way.

At least, Stan didn't.

Denise found that she was thinking more and more about the way Stan held his chin in his hand sometimes, or his strange habit of whistling some unknown tune, often out of key, when he was thinking. Her own past relationships made her reluctant to consider anything closer, however.

On the plus side, Stan had ventured out of his depression and his colleagues were profoundly grateful. Elizabeth, in particular, was pleased to see her surrogate son looking and acting happier again.

It was an improvement professionally, as well. Last week, Bob had mentioned this to Stan, who sheepishly admitted that he'd been in a funk for a long time. Still, he'd told Bob, "I'm taking life a day at a time. Today I'm fine. Yesterday I'd been fine. Tomorrow? We'll see."

Another design review meeting, and once again it was Anne's project. Stan found himself paying far less attention than he should have to the details of the latest design proofs and changes. He was much more interested in the hazel eyes, blond hair and elfin features of their presenter.

The subject of his attention was either unaware of it or, more likely, ignored it. Stan managed to stay professional enough to take the necessary notes and ask some pertinent questions, all of which were answered in a positive, knowledgeable and self-confident manner that told everyone there — and especially Stan — that of course everything was in hand and correct.

Anne's colleagues in the design team were definitely junior partners in this design, even though some of them had much more experience. Actually, Stan had heard one of them telling another that, "I hate being that woman's gofer, but God, she's good!"

There was a discussion of timelines. The first 'silicon' was due back from the wafer fab six weeks after delivery of the design data. Then they had to allow another couple of weeks to have it packaged and returned as testable chips.

Anne loftily told the meeting that she'd be ready for evaluation in eight weeks, the data was ready to send now. No one was going to say nay to her opinion and the meeting broke up after agreeing to send the new chip design for fabrication. Stan thought he saw a gleam in Anne's eye that hadn't been there earlier, but she caught him looking, and he broke eye contact immediately.

After his customary, "Thank you everyone," Stan left to get on with the rest of his day.

Elizabeth had been watching Stan for years and thought she knew something.

"Well, have you asked her yet?" she teased across the desks. Stan looked at her, completely at a loss.

"You've been thinking of someone and for a change it's not Caron, is it? I can tell."

"Elizabeth, I don't know what you mean. Denise and I are friends, nothing more," answered Stan.

"I never said a name," Elizabeth answered, quietly. "But if it's not Denise, who is it that's got you all introspective and quiet." She paused a moment. "Stan, you're not relapsing, are you?"

"Actually, I wasn't thinking of Caron. I was thinking of Anne."

"Hmm?"

"Anne Berkely, in the Design Group."

"I know who she is, I didn't know you had any interest in her, that's all."

"Well, I don't," Stan said, "but when you asked, I was going over the meeting this afternoon. She's the lead designer."

"Right, that's all you were thinking about her for, wasn't it?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him.

Fully on the defensive now, Stan said, "She's very attractive, you know. I am allowed some lapses into fantasy!"

The two friends shared a laugh. However, Elizabeth worried inside. Denise should have been on his mind, not Anne — Denise would be upset if she knew. Well, Elizabeth wouldn't be the one to tell her, not yet anyway — after all, Stan was right, a simple fantasy meant nothing.

The following Wednesday, it was Stan's turn to drive. That afternoon, Denise asked if they could go for a meal instead of just a drink, "'cuz I didn't have time for lunch today." Stan agreed, because he couldn't think of an excuse not to.

"You make the reservations, Stan. I'm like putty in your hands tonight!" she joked.

Stan didn't think much of the joke, but he waited until Denise left before his face fell. He looked over at his assistant.

"Elizabeth, you talk to Denise, don't you?"

"Yes, Stan?"

"Does she think there's more to her and me than friendship?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Elizabeth..." there was a hint of a whine in Stan's voice.

"Denise has just asked if she and you can go for a meal tonight. There's no need to jump to conclusions," Elizabeth calmly replied

"Look, we — I thought — Denise is — I dunno, we're good friends, but..."

Elizabeth looked at Stan calmly, but he could see the concern in her eyes.

"But friendship is all there is, for you. Is that it?"

Stan looked down, "Yes, she's great, but..."

"But she's not your girlfriend," interrupted Elizabeth. "Well, like I said, you're jumping to conclusions. But if you're right, you know you're going to have to tread carefully, Stan. She's never told me about it, but I've seen that she's been hurt before. If friends is all you can be with her, but she wants more — 'Case Not Proven, ' as they say in Scotland — you'll need to be very gentle in telling her."

Now, Stan looked up, "All I can do is play it by ear, I guess."

Stan had made reservations at a local curry house for nine o'clock, allowing them time for a quick drink first. He picked her up at eight, as usual, and Denise was happy enough to chat away on their way and at the pub across the road from the restaurant.

Stan was paying just enough attention to Denise's chatter to get away with it, while thinking about the two of them. Looked at objectively, he supposed someone could have concluded they were dating — after all, they had been out for drinks for the last six or seven weeks. Oh dear.

They crossed over the road and walked into the restaurant. They were quickly seated — the place was nearly empty at this time in midweek — and the waiter asked about drinks. Both asked for water, and after it was brought to the table they chose their meals.

Denise chose a mild Korma, while Stan opted for a stronger Dhansak. As they waited for their food, Denise began chatting again.

"Raoul never liked Indian food," she said.

"Mmmm?"

"My ex. He said that all that spice was simply there to cover the bad meat."

"Have you ever eaten real Indian food?" Stan asked.

"I don't think so," Denise replied.

"Ghita, you know, in Production?" Denise nodded, and Stan continued, "She laid on a spread once, I can't remember what the occasion was. Several of us from work were invited. Huge amounts of food, looking and smelling thoroughly enjoyable. It was lovely, and you could tell that there was a lot of pride that went into it. I think that convinced me that, while there may have been a kernel of truth there once, the idea that Indian food is so spicy hot in order to hide the rancid meat is an old wive's tale, an urban myth."

"Oh. Well, Raoul was a fucking ignorant bastard at times."

Stan looked up at Denise in surprise. "That's the first time I've ever heard you swear. Even when you have some idiot telling you that "of course" he's remembered to 'File, Save' before switching off, you never swear. So tell me about Raoul, and why he was such a," and he curled his mouth into a wide grin, "fucking ignorant bastard."

Denise looked at him, then finished her mouthful and patted her mouth with her napkin while she collected herself. After a mouthful of water she said,

"Raoul was witty, handsome and charming. He was excellent in bed. I thought he was all I could dream of. Trouble is, several other women were led to believe the same thing."

"Oh." Stan said, flatly.

"Putting it simply, Raoul couldn't keep his dick in his pants if he saw a woman he was attracted to. He was attracted to a lot of women, too. In the end, I found out about six of them.

"We were not engaged or anything, but Raoul had given me a bracelet — and it gave me great satisfaction to walk in on a dinner he was having with one of his Other Ladies, take off the bracelet and lay it on the table next to her plate. I told her that it, and he, was hers now — unless Sandra, or Reyna, or one of the others wanted him.

"I walked away, but I heard her slap his face before I got out of earshot. I was very, very satisfied to do that, but when I got home I cried and cried. I'd loved him, we'd been together for four years, and though we'd never said anything I was sure he loved me back. Then he goes and breaks my heart."