"I want to thank you for what you did today," Stelios told Zoey just before he hung up. "I really appreciate how much you're doing to help me."
"As long as we're together," Zoey told him, "your problems are my problems. Always remember that."
***
Nearly six months had passed since the debacle surrounding Melinda's billboard campaign. Zoey was working with Stelios on stress management techniques almost every day now. A slim window of opportunity had opened, and Stelios was keen to take advantage of it.
The following week, he would have a block of free time where no meetings had been arranged, and he wanted to use it to take Zoey to Greece and introduce her to his family-the people who had helped him from afar in his darkest hours. He was focused on his goal in a way that Zoey had to admit was highly impressive. He had yet to step foot on an actual plane, but had gotten through several simulations with flying colors.
"You've come such a long way from when we started," Zoey exclaimed proudly as Stelios stepped out of a large machine. It looked like a cross section of a passenger jet, and moved in ways that showed passengers what to expect from turbulence.
"I couldn't have done it without you, Zo'. You've been a huge inspiration to me these past few months."
"I said I didn't think there was anything we couldn't get through together, and I'm glad to know that I was right," she replied with a laugh.
Stelios kissed her on the cheek and the pair crossed the airfield, eventually reaching Stelios' black town car. Fulton was leaning against it, patiently awaiting their return.
When they were within earshot, the driver spoke up. "I hope I'm not being too personal when I say this, Mr. Zakiridis, but I'm very proud of what you've accomplished, sir."
"Thank you, Fulton," the billionaire replied, helping Zoey into the back of the car.
The driver nodded and a few moments later the three of them were on their way back to the city.
On the way, Zoey was struck by the fact that she knew so little about the man who had been driving her around for months. He very rarely spoke, and his proclamation at the airfield had started her thinking. Who was he? How long had he worked for Stelios?
When they reached Manhattan, Zoey told Fulton that she hoped it wasn't too personal for her to inquire after his first name, if nothing else.
"It's Herbert, miss," he replied, turning a tight corner with the ease of a seasoned pro. "Herbert Earnest Fulton is my name. It's been a pleasure serving you."
FIFTEEN
On the home front, in a small café near the offices of Melinda Forde Singles, Zoey's mother was accomplishing a monumental task of her own: sharing a cup of coffee with a client.
Over the past few months, Branden Kingston had been as good as his word, appearing in her office with increased frequency. Several more picnics had followed the first, until it became perfectly impossible for Melinda to deny her heart what it wanted any longer. Finally, she had broached the subject of a date, and Mr. Kingston had proven to be perfectly willing.
"It's kind of funny," Branden was saying, as he added creamer to Melinda's coffee. "When you think about it, places like this offer privacy, despite being chock-full of people. The dim lighting makes it hard to see, and everyone talking at once creates a wall of white noise."
"Yeah, but every single person has a camera and a video recorder," she reminded him. "And they pull them out like Clint Eastwood the moment anything remotely interesting happens."
"Well, private or not, I'm glad we're here together," Branden returned. "I've wanted to see you like this for a long time. I feel like you can say things on an official date that you can't really say in someone's office."
"We talked about everything in my office, didn't we? Claire, William, Zoey, greeting cards … "
"Everything but how beautiful I think you are, Melinda. There's an intensity in your eyes that really demands attention. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"Not for a long time," Melinda admitted; the last person to say that had been a contest judge. "Thank you," she added warmly. "Well, while we're sharing, I might as well tell you that I've always liked the sound of your voice."
"My voice?" Branden replied, a little surprised.
"Yes, your voice. It's a wonderful baritone. Every time you say something, the words feel like they roll over me. I think you'd be a wonderful singer."
"Tolerable," he corrected.
"You're just being modest. Why don't you sing something now?"
"Because of the dozens of smartphones you mentioned earlier," Branden answered, laughing a little.
"Oh, don't mind them," she replied. "Let me tell you something. I'm forty-something and you're in your fifties. Neither of us watch YouTube, so there's really no reason to be afraid."
Branden had to chuckle at that. "All right, Melinda" he smiled. "You win." And clearing his throat, he began singing ‘I Can't Help Myself'.
As he'd said, his voice was tolerable, but after the first few moments of nervousness wore off, it began to improve by degrees. Soon, two or three people near their table were clapping along in time, and Melinda smiled and followed suit. When his rendition came to an end, several people even applauded.
"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Melinda said with a grin.
Branden had to admit that it had gone better than he thought. He got a kiss for his trouble, and by the time the pair of them headed back to Melinda's office, they were surer than ever that they were meant to be together. They set up a second date for the following Saturday.
"I'm so glad I decided to come and see you all those months ago," Branden said, holding Melinda's hand at the door to her office. "I doubt there's a person within a hundred miles of here that's happier than I am."
"Zoey might just give you a run for your money," Melinda replied softly. "She'll be overjoyed when she finds out about today. She's been trying to push the two of us together for months now."
"And bless her heart for doing it. As long as I live, I'll always be grateful to that girl for sticking her nose in other people's business."
"As will I," Melinda agreed with a grin. "Zoey's a treasure. She's done so much to make me feel human again. Thank you for singing today, by the way," she said, giving Branden another kiss. "Believe it or not, it really made my day."
"I'm glad it did," he replied, smiling broadly. "I admit, it went better than I thought it would. I don't care who you are, it feels good to have an audience clapping for you. But let's not get used to it." He shook his head good-naturedly and gave Melinda a peck on the cheek. "I can only sing about two other songs without sounding like a drunken alley cat."
"I can't wait to hear them," returned Melinda. "And remember, I'm always available to sing backup. Sugar pie, honey bunch … " she began to sing.
A moment later, the pair of them were singing together. Branden kept making up silly lyrics to fit the music, causing Melinda to erupt in fits of laughter, her singing veering off-key.
They were at it for a good ten minutes before Branden remembered he had to be on his way. He often told people that, even when one is retired, life refuses to take care of itself. As the echoes of the racket they had been making died away, he fervently wished that it would, just this once.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised Melinda as he walked out of her office, nodding cheerily at Maria as he did.
"You'd better be!" came the jaunty reply.
SIXTEEN
When she came in to work next morning, it didn't take Zoey long to find out what had happened with her mother. She heard the entire thing from Annie within ten minutes of arriving in the office. Maria, had apparently been exceedingly vocal about her boss' antics with her new love interest, reminding anyone who would listen that she had been at the agency the longest, that she had seen Melinda in the months after William left her, when she had been a broken woman.
In her office, Zoey inwardly prayed that Maria didn't start any drama, but as the day wore on, it became quite evident that everyone was worrying for no reason. Zoey kept finding excuses to go upstairs and visit her mother, and each time she found Maria at her desk, wearing her familiar unreadable expression.
The third time Zoey went up it was just after lunch, and when she arrived, it was to find Branden on his way out, carrying a picnic basket. His face lit up when he saw her, and he hurried eagerly to her side.