Free Finding Mr. Right by Gwynne Forster

his father before she met Andy.
    “Would you like something else?” he asked her.
    She shook her head. “Thanks. It was a delightful meal. If you’re not in a hurry, could we walk a little?”
    “Of course. But if walking is a way to prolong the evening, I have some other suggestions. We could go to the carriage company, hire a hansom and take a ride, or we could go to the Frederick Hotel’s supper club, have coffee, a liqueur and dance. In either case, I could have you in my arms. What would you like?”
    “If I choose the hansom ride, will you take me dancing another time?”
    “Of course I will. Ready to go? I need to hold you, and I don’t want to do it standing in your foyer.”
    “What’s wrong with my foyer?” she asked in an attempt to bring a little levity into their conversation. The seriousness of their after-dinner conversation had nearly exhausted her. The subject had obviously weighed heavily on him, and she didn’t understand why. Surely he should have understood that she would find a way to show love to a four-year-old, motherless child, no matter who his father was. But she wasn’t going to worry about it. Andy was extremely dear to him, and he’d just served notice that any woman who couldn’t love and care for his child would have no part in his life. On that score, she agreed with him.
    “Nothing’s wrong with your foyer except that every minute I’m standing there with you, I’m distracted. I feel as if I should look over my shoulder for Darlene or Maggie.”
    “Distracted? I wonder what you’d be like if I had your undivided attention?”
    “I’m going to do my best to make sure you find out.”
    “Do you have any pictures of Andy?”
    She knew at once that she’d said the right thing, for his face beamed with pride. “You bet.” He opened his wallet, removed two pictures and handed them to her.
    She studied them. “Byron, he’s a beautiful child. And you’re right, he looks just like you.” She handed the pictures to him. “You’re blessed to have a healthy, happy and intelligent son.”
    “I know, and I’m grateful for it. I could have been left with no one.”
    She reached up and stroked his face. “Are you over your wife’s death? I know it’s hard.”
    “Yes, I’m over it.”
    As they left the restaurant holding hands, she asked him, “How far is it to the hansom carriage? I thought it was right around the corner.”
    “It’s right around the next corner. Would you like to walk, or shall we drive there?”
    “It’s a balmy night, let’s walk.”
    She looked up at the full July moon, at the sky as clear as crystal and squeezed his fingers. “What is it?” he asked.
    “The moon. The sky. The night. It’s so idyllic. I wish it could last forever.” A brisk wind brushed the hair away from her face, as tiny bit of debris whirled around her feet. Lights twinkled in every building that they passed. It seemed to Tyra that neither residents nor merchants were willing to sacrifice the beautiful night.
    “I also noticed how perfect the night was. I’m so busy allthe time, that I rarely notice things—such as this night—that give me so much pleasure. When I’m with you, though, my senses work overtime.”
    “Where do you want to ride, mister?” the driver of the hansom asked Byron. “For twenty-five extra, we can take a drive through Gambrill.”
    “Want to?” he asked her.
    “He’s a romantic, so maybe he knows something. I’d like it if you have time.”
    He helped her into the carriage and tucked her close to him. “The night is young, and you’re so beautiful,” he sang. To the driver, he said, “Gambrill sounds fine.”
    With his arms around her and her head on his shoulder, she was as one with him. “For tonight, at least, I have you,” he said. She wanted to know what he meant and asked him. “I know what I want and what I need,” he said. “But I know that not even the next piece of bread is guaranteed. So I’m treating this