THE MAKEOVER – A free story

 “Lennie, tell me again how this happened,” Donovan Alistair said. “How did you end up with more paid vendors than spaces?”  He glanced down at the venue layout on his desk and frowned.

“I’m not really sure,” Lennie replied, shifting guiltily in his chair across from Donovan’s desk. “I mean I thought I was keeping track of all the vendors who’d signed up and paid, but I guess a few slipped past me. Then when Cecil started laying everything out, he came and told me the numbers were off.”

Donovan’s eyes shifted to Lennie Blantz, a nice-looking, slightly stocky but personable young young man. He could tell by the way Lennie wouldn’t look at him directly that he was lying. Frankly, Lennie liked to goof off and this wasn’t the first time a problem like this had happened with him.

Donovan picked up his phone and gave Cecil a ring. “How many extra vendor spaces are we dealing with that paid but don’t have a space?”

He listened and turned back to Lennie. “Cecil says we have four 10-10 spaces that we don’t have a designated space for. How do you think we should handle this? Cecil is going to come join us in a minute, too.”

Lennie rubbed his arm, looking around. “Well, maybe you could call them and explain. We could give them their money back, too.”

“That might create a lot of ill will, Lennie. Some of these vendors come to the Appalachian Craft Show at the Overton Event Center every year. They’re valued customers.”

Lennie rubbed his neck now, sweating a little. “Well, maybe you can figure something out.” He grinned. “You’re good at figuring out problems.”

Donovan studied the diagrams of their major vendor space and the routes into the main auditorium, thinking how to resolve this dilemma.

Cecil came in and joined them while he was trying to come up with an answer.  Donovan turned to him after a moment. “Cecil, have you and Lennie put anyone in the lobby in front of the doors into the auditorium yet?”

Cecil, a tall, lanky man, shook his head. “No, not yet. We’ve had some requests for free space from area civic groups and a museum but we always wait until the show is set up before we get back to them. Right now, only the paid vendors are on our list to place.”

Donovan glanced again at the diagram and paperwork on his desk.  “Could you check in your records, Cecil, and see who our most long-term vendors are? I’m thinking we could call some of them and say we’re offering a slightly larger entry space to some of our most loyal, long-term vendors this year and that we would be happy for them to claim one of these prime spots in the lobby area if they’d like.”

Lennie grinned. “Hey, that’s a good idea. Folks coming in to the show would see their booths before they even walk in the big auditorium. Some of our vendors ought to jump on the idea of getting a lobby spot.”

“I agree,” Cecil said. “A few might want to stay in their regular booths, if possible, but I can think of several right off who will probably love this idea.”

Donovan nodded. “Can you and Lennie work on that together? Cecil, you know our vendors better than Lennie does and you have the records. Bring me a calling list to approve after you put one together and then we’ll get to work on this. We only need to add four booths in the lobby, if you guys got all the other figures right.” He gathered up the papers on his desk to tuck back into their folder.

“I’ll get right on it,” Cecil said getting up and picking up the folder.

“Thanks for working this out,” Lennie added, making his escape, too.

Actually, Donovan was glad he’d worked it out this easily. It seemed to be a regular part of his work life that he handled not only his job but that of others under him. He was the Operations and Events Manager at Overton Venue, Cecil his Management Consultant, good with numbers, and Lennie his Event Coordinator. Although a good-looking young man, Lennie was somewhat lazy. Their boss, Larnelle Overton, had hired Lennie because of his looks and charisma and also because he was Larnelle’s nephew. So, that meant there was fat chance Donovan could fire him and hire someone who’d do a better job.

The boss’s equally cute secretary leaned her head in the door now. “Mr. Overton wants to talk with you for a minute if you’re free,” she said, flashing him one of her I’m cute smiles.

“I’ll be right there,” Donovan said.

Larnelle Overton, the event center owner, wasn’t often in office during the week, working more in what he termed a ‘remote position,’ which frequently meant he was on the golf course or out on the lake. Still, he owned the center and had developed it. He also kept a handle on the business, hiring strong people for his top positions he knew would carry the daily load of running things and fielding ongoing problems well. Donovan assumed the request to talk to him related to this little venue problem that had trickled down to him in some way.

Larnelle Overton, who insisted on being called Mr. Overton, was dressed, as usual in a sharp designer suit, neat and pressed, his shoes shining and his hair impeccable. Donovan was well aware he made a strong contrast in slightly rumpled olive-green slacks and a white shirt with a matching rumpled look plus a coffee stain from the morning. He’d never been much for formal dress. Why should it matter? His hair was scruffy and overly long and the short beard he’d let grow needed trimming but he’d made an effort to look better today. He’d even slipped on the matching olive-green coat jacket to his slacks, knowing this was one of the days when the boss usually stopped by the event center.

Mr. Overton gestured to the seat across from his desk as Donovan came in. “I ran into Lennie in the hall. He said you’d figured out a way to handle that overbooking problem.”

“We did,” he said, not wanting to take all the credit.

“You handle everything in relation to our operations very efficiently here, Donovan. I’m never concerned about the event center when you’re here.”

Surprised at this praise, Donovan said, “Thank you, sir.”

Larnelle gave him a somewhat oily smile. Donovan recognized it as one usually followed by a big job or responsibility his boss wanted to dump on him.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but my daughter Tiffany graduates from college next month. She’s been getting her degree in business management, and she wants to come and work at the Event Center. Do you remember Tiffany? You’ve met her at many of our company anniversaries and holiday parties.”

“Yes, very pretty girl,” Donovan said, recalling the rude and snobby woman who usually gave him the once over and walked away as soon as possible.

The boss smiled again. “Tiffany certainly has beauty and poise, nice traits for work with the public at an event center, but she will obviously need schooling and help with any position she takes here.”

Uh, oh. Donovan thought. Surely he doesn’t mean for me to take on that task.

Mr. Overton let his eyes move over him. “Underneath your very casual dress, you are a very handsome man, Donovan. It’s just not easily seen. I think Tiffany might be drawn to take another look at you if you worked to have a bit of a makeover. Cleaned up your appearance. Worked on getting a little polish. Sharpened up your act. Do You know what I mean?”

Not sure he did, Donovan waited.

“It would please me if Tiffany took a liking to you and if a relationship developed. I need to look to the future and to think about who to carry on the business here. If you and Tiffany married, that would be the perfect answer. She could handle all the social aspects of the event center and you could run the business.”

Shocked at his words, Donovan gulped. “That’s a flattering idea, sir, but in honesty I don’t think Tiffany is interested in or attracted to me.”

His boss frowned. “She could be if you worked at it and polished yourself up. The wife and I both think she needs to settle down with someone sensible, capable, and strong, but frankly I don’t think she will see those attributes in you as you are now. I don’t mean to be offensive, but work needs to be done, Donovan. I mainly hired Lennie to work at the events here because he shows so much better than you. Frankly, the look you bring to the office is far below what an event center’s Operations and Events Manager should look like.”

Donovan tried to absorb his words. This was the first time his appearance had ever been mentioned to him. Why hadn’t Mr. Overton spoken to him before? As far as he knew they had a loose dress code here. “I’m not quite sure what to say, sir.”

“I hope you’ll say that you’ll work toward this goal as you would any other good business opportunity. Not every boss would make an offer like this.” He paused, tapping his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. “I know a few other young men, coming along in the business world, sons of friends in the country club with me who would be pleased to pursue Tiffany.”

Donovan felt relieved at that idea and felt sure he sighed.

Mr. Overton frowned. “Naturally one of these young business managers might expect to come into the business here, too. We have a small staff. I would so prefer to keep the reins in your hands, Donovan.”

Concerned, Donovan leaned forward. “Sir, Tiffany doesn’t favor me.”

“I have reason to believe she would if you presented yourself differently, and I would certainly encourage a match then.” He hesitated and then said, “I hope you will realize this is a very good offer for you.” He handed Donovan a photo of his daughter. “Perhaps this will offer you some positive inspiration, Donovan.”

He looked at the photo of the stunningly beautiful blond woman in a low-cut dress and could not think of a thing to say.

Mr. Overton stood, signaling their meeting was at an end. “This opportunity between us is confidential, Donovan. It would distress me if any word of this got out to other employees. I’m sure you can see why, so I will expect your word that this will not filter out to others.”

“Yes sir. You can be sure I won’t speak about it to others.” That was a fact.

He made his way back to his office and then sat there stunned for an hour thinking over this odd conversation. In a sense, he realized he’d been given an ultimatum.

The next day, Sophia Winton, an area photographer with a freelance business who did most all the photography work needed for the event center stopped by to take some pre-pictures for an upcoming wedding. He let her into one of their big meeting rooms, and while she asked some questions, he watched her shift things around and decorate tables to create a photo shoot setting. Interested, as the couple showed up for some engagement photos he watched her stage them and take pictures and then followed her outside where she took more photos in the gazebo by the Little River that ran behind the event center property.

She moved to the young groom, a somewhat red-headed young man with freckles, straightening his tie and pulling his shirt sleeves down below the cuff of his jacket.

Smiling at him, she said, “Let me put some makeup on you and style your hair a little for the photos, Freddie. We want these pictures of you and Becky to be really cute.”

As she continued to work with both of them, Donovan was impressed at how much better they both looked.

When she finished, Donovan offered to carry some of her equipment to her car. “You do really nice work, Sophia. That was a good makeover you did on those kids.”

She laughed. “Just a little touching up. It saves work with editing the photos after, and there are some things you can’t edit easily., like Freddie’s cowlick sticking up.”

An idea came to Donovan. “Uh, I have some business I’d like to talk with you about.”

“Sure. I could run back into your office now if you have time.”

Uncomfortable at that idea, he glanced at his watch. “it’s almost lunch time. Maybe we could run down the road to grab a bite of lunch at that little diner by the Melrose bridge.”

Donovan saw her hesitate. “I could come back to your office another time, she said.”

“Look, I’m not trying to hit on you. It’s just that this business is unrelated to the event center so it didn’t seem right to use office space to discuss it.”

She grinned. “Sure, then, that’s okay. I don’t have another appointment to shoot photos  until two near the country club. So lunch would be good.”

“You can ride to the diner with me and then I’ll bring you back here to your car since your next stop is closer to Maryville.”

She considered it. “No, there’s no need. It isn’t far. I’ll just meet you there.”

Donovan went back to his office to pass the word he was heading out to lunch and a meeting, and then left for the diner. He thought about Sophia Winton on the way. She was a blondish girl, eyes blue, figure nice, pleasant manner. He thought he remembered she worked with her dad in the photography business, that they had a well-respected little company. It was probably crazy to reach out to her but maybe she could help him or might know someone who could. The word “makeover” she’d used was the same word Larnelle Overton had used.

With the day pleasant and for added privacy, Donovan suggested they eat outside on the covered deck in back and she was okay with that idea. He ordered a barbeque sandwich and slaw and she got some sort of cheese omelet with fruit on the side.

“Dad and I don’t live far from here. We like to come here to eat,” she said conversationally.

He tried to think how to begin.

As the quiet continued, she finally said, “Donovan, I won’t say anything to your employer about you having an outside meeting with a photographer. Just tell me what your business idea is. I’ve had some strange assignments in past. Very little surprises me.”

He took a deep breath. “You know how you did a little makeover on that kid Freddie for their engagement photos. Well, I need a big makeover. My boss has all but told me I might be replaced if I don’t.”

She looked stunned. “What? You do an incredible job as the Operations and Event Manager at the Overton center.  Everyone who does work for the center knows that you do more work there than Larnelle. Whyever would he suddenly push for you to do a makeover?  And if he means just updating your work wardrobe, that shouldn’t be hard.”

“He has in mind for me to interest his daughter, Tiffany, when she comes home after graduating from college next month. He thinks we would be a good match.” He blushed even saying the words.

“He actually said that to you?” She looked surprised at his words. “I think I remember Tiffany as a glamorous woman, sort of a fashion queen, full of herself.” She looked him over. “That hardly seems like a match for you if you don’t mind my candor.”

“No, but he wants me to spiff up, try to go after her, sharpen up my act, put on a little polish. I know he’s planning some big after graduation party at the center for her for when she comes home, and he wants me to wow her there, look different so she’ll be attracted to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to dance good at stuff like that, how to act, what to wear or talk about. But if I don’t try, I might lose my job. He sort of put out an ultimatum to me. Tiffany has never even liked me, so I don’t think anything I do will work, but I need to try. He calls it an opportunity, and I think he wants me to change in what I wear and how I look.”

She sat quietly for a minute. “Why would you ask me to help with this, Donovan. We’re only casually acquainted through work. I’m a photographer not a makeover artist. Why wouldn’t you go to some of your men friends for help who dress and look sharp?”

He decided to be honest. “I was too embarrassed to tell any of them about this. It’s really sort of humiliating. Also, I was sworn not to mention it to anyone, so that limits me. But I need help, Sophia. Watching you with Freddie and Becky, I realized you work with making people look better all the time and that maybe you could help me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, honestly, I’ve never cared much about clothes and fashion but I thought I dressed all right. What do you think?”

She hesitated. “Some changes might be good in relation to your position at the center, Donovan. While we’re eating, tell me about yourself and let me think about this. It’s not the sort of normal business offer I usually get.”

“First, I want to say first that I know what you get hourly as a photographer working at events. I’ll pay you that and more if you can help me, Sophia. I just don’t know what to do or where to begin. You always look so nicely put together whenever I’ve seen you, and I suppose I I look and dress kind of dorky compared to how a lot of people dress.”

Donovan looked at himself, trying to straighten his jacket. “The way I dress is pretty much how I’ve always dressed since school. My folks didn’t have a lot. We had a real simple house, just a plain life. I worked at my dad’s grocery after school, while taking college classes at Pellissippi on one of those Tennessee Scholarships. My brother Ben helps runs the grocery now. Neither of us ever had much time or money for organized sports or fancy clothes or proms or stuff.  We just worked in the store or in the garden at home. For fun, we fished, hunted, and hiked. But we had good family, a good upbringing. We learned good manners and morals. and we had to learn to be organized and efficient to take care of all kinds of problems at the store.”

He paused before continuing.  “I got a job over at Overton’s Event Center when it opened, right after I got my business management degree. I worked smart and hard and I moved up from one position to another, learning the business like I’d learned the store. I’ve always been grateful to Mr. Overton for taking me on right after college, recognizing and rewarding me for good work.”

“So you want to please him, even though the request he’s made doesn’t seem right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess I do, and I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Do you want to marry his daughter Tiffany?”

He shrugged. “I don’t even know her. At any office gathering, she always pretty much stuck up her nose at me like I was dirt or something, not on her level. She never talked to me or anything. She always had some slick guy on her arm and a lot of guys hanging around her. I can’t imagine we’d have much in common, and I can’t figure out why her daddy would want her to hook up with me. I know where the Overtons live. It’s a different world from mine.”

Sophia pushed her hair back behind her ear, thinking. “My dad told me Larnelle Overton started out poor and worked his way through college and up in the business world. Daddy said he took a risk, buying that old event center that was going under, but he thought things were growing from Maryville toward the Smokies. He felt like there weren’t many event facilities out in the Melrose and Walland areas except for Blackberry Farm, only for the elite.” She smiled. “I think maybe he relates to you and I know he depends on you.” She frowned. “From what I hear his daughter Tiffany has been a trial. Maybe he really believes you’ll be a good husband for her, help her settle down. She’s very beautiful, but the stories I hear about her character and life style aren’t pretty.”

She paused. “Are you a Christian?”

He looked up from eating, surprised at her question. “Yeah. I was raised strong in that way. In my college years about the time my cousin got blown up by a field bomb in the military, I got myself straightened out and sold out to the Lord. That hard time reminded me you never know about life.” He hesitated. “What about you?”

“We’re strong people of faith, my dad and me.” She shook her head. “I admit I got mad at God when my mother died too young, but I got that straightened out, too, after a while.” She crossed her arms. “I ask that in particular, Donovan, because if I’m going to spend some time with you to help you with this thing, then I expect you to understand this is business. I expect you to act honorably with me. I don’t really know you yet, but I’m beginning to get a feeling I could trust you to help you with this.”

“Do you think I’m dumb and stupid to be trying to change myself for a work matter like this?” he asked. “Does it make me seem weak?”

“Sometimes change can be good. If you change yourself outwardly and don’t like the changes you make, you can change back. Did you ever dress up like a super hero or movie star or something for Halloween growing up?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I dressed up like Elvis one year, got the look and the voice down. It was fun.”

“Well, a makeover would be like that on a larger scale.” She looked him over. “To come across like Mr. Overton suggested will mean changes in your looks, your clothes, some of your conversation and how you act in different situations. You’ll need to think of it like preparing for or getting into character for a movie role, but I think I can help you do that. I photograph a lot of monied events. I know how monied young men look and act, smell and talk. We can make a different version of Donovan Alistair if you like.”

Donovan thought about her words. “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” he said, finishing off the last of his tea. “And Mr. Overton sort of challenged me. He made me feel for the first time like I didn’t measure up to all I could be. Honestly, Sophia, if he’d told me before I needed to work on my looks for the business, I would have tried to please him.”

“What about the Tiffany thing? Is that a challenge you want to win, too?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I admit I’d like to see her take a second look at me and not snub me. Also, I think if Mr. Overton knew I’d tried to be nice to her and appeal to her, and if she still didn’t like me, that he might keep me on.” He laughed. “This is  the only job I’ve ever had. I admit it scares me a little to think of having to start all over, interview and stuff.”

Sophia crossed her arms. “Quite candidly, Donovan, if you came interviewing at any event center, business, or country club where I do my photography in that awful pea green suit, those high-top athletic shoes with the white laces and bright red socks, and with that mop of a haircut, you would not get the job.”

He scowled at her. “This is a good olive-green suit. I found it at the thrift store in Maryville. They have a lot of great clothes there.”

“I like shopping at thrift stores, too, but I can teach you how to find better clothes there.” She pulled out her calendar book from her purse. “When is that big graduation party for Tifffany to be held at the Overton center?”

He stopped to think. “The first weekend in June.”

“Will you give up the next weekends before then to work on this?”

Donovan frowned. “Will it take that much time?”

“Yes. I’ll start to plan out an agenda. If we have some work events on the weekends we can’t get around or can’t pass on to someone else, we’ll make up the time on evenings in between.” She hesitated. “Honestly, the idea is crazy, Donovan, but I’ll try to help you with this. No guarantees, but you have to agree to cooperate and to be willing to make the changes needed to try out this part ig you want to play it out.”

“Maybe it won’t work anyway,” he said, looking down at his lap. “Mama always said you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

“That old proverb means you can’t create a fine product from inferior materials,” she said. “But beneath some dorky clothes, a bad haircut, and some slouchy ways, to my mind, lies a prince, Mr. Alistair.”

He laughed. “Well, that sounds like a compliment I can hold on to.”

She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Put your phone numbers in here and your address.” She looked up at him. “Where do you live? Is it close around here?”

“I bought a house off West Miller’s Cove Road a couple of years ago, a little away from Maryville but only about ten minutes or so from the event center.”

Sophia smiled after he mentioned the address. “I know where that is. I’ll just come to your place on Saturday at about ten and we’ll get started.” She paused. “Seeing where you live will tell me a lot about you, too. We want you to achieve a more polished, professional look but we want you to project an authentic look for you, too. Will that time work for you?”

“Sure,” he said, beginning to feel a little panicked now over this whole thing.

Donovan spent the rest of the week after work cleaning his house, knowing Sophia planned to show up at his place at ten. Nervous over this whole makeover idea now, he watched for her car and came out to greet her as she pulled up. She looked cute, and thankfully casual, in khaki slacks, a long-sleeved sandy-colored shirt, and tan shoes, her hair tied back in a low ponytail. He heaved a sigh, glad he hadn’t been expected to dress up. He just had on tan slacks and a white T-shirt today.

Getting her purse and a big laptop out of the car, she smiled at him. “Nice house, Donovan.” She paused to look up at the mountains behind his house. “Your house alone, rural like this, sort of rugged and rudimentary, tells me a lot about what your style should be.” She followed him up on the deck and into the house. “I’ve been doing my homework.” She patted her laptop. “And I’ve brought some great YouTubes for us to look at about makeovers. They taught me a lot and I think they will you, too.”

Inside, she turned and said, “Show me around so I can get a sense of your style here. Then we’ll sit down and have some coffee, if you still have some, talk and look at a bunch of these YouTubes and work on our battle plan.”

They spent the morning looking at YouTubes of various makeup specialists doing makeovers on an assortment of young men. They also moved from the couch to sit on the floor after a time, the laptop between them.

“What did you get out of watching all these YouTubes?” she asked after a time.

He turned and grinned at her. “That I don’t know much about men’s fashion. To me those sharp guys were all dressed a little plain and too much the same much, but dang, they looked good and certainly better than before.”

She’d been taking notes and looked down at them. “A big point, which is good advice for women as well as men is that your outfit should never talk louder than who you are and what you represent. One man said when your colors are quiet people pay more attention to you than to your outfit. I liked the concept, too, that when you’re dressed well and dressed right you feel more confident, you carry yourself more easily, even move and speak differently, your clothes supporting you, not shouting some other impression.”

“They were all big on impressions you make with your hair, your overall grooming, your clothes, how they fit and look, if they’re tasteful and not too colorful, if things clash.” He made a face. “I admit I’d never thought much about what colors look good together, what colors clash, or what a mess mixing plaids, stripes, and too many colors and patterns can do to any look.”

The next weeks were one learning experience after another to Donovan. Working with Sophia was fun, too. She was easy to be with and to talk to. She went through his closet and helped him organize his clothes and dump half of them. She laughed with him and not at him as they went shopping together to look for new clothes, and she taught him how to shop at the thrift stores and get good clothes and good bargains, too.

After work one day, she took him to a hair stylist friend of hers, she did a lot of free-lance photography for, for a haircut.

Ricky Dane walked all around him, analyzing his appearance, asking questions of Sophia about Donovan’s job, his life, his interests, almost like he wasn’t there.

“The guy’s got a good body, great build, well-muscled, good skin, clothes are okay, but his hair’s a big mop of curls. The color and texture is nice though.” He felt of Donovan’s hair, moving it around and then studied his beard. “He needs a haircut for sure, something that will show off a little of this natural curl maybe, but I don’t like the beard for him. Do you, Sophia?”

“No. I think he’d be more handsome without it,” she answered. “Donovan, is it okay if Ricky gives you a clean shave with your haircut and style?”

He looked in the mirror. “Yeah, but don’t give me some kind of fancy haircut I’ll need to style or fuss with, anything that needs gels or extra time to fiddle with. I like to get up, shower, shave, and go. If it requires a lot of maintenance, I’ll soon forget to do it.”

Sophia laughed. “That’s honest. Being clean shaven will be easier for you, too, then.”

Ricky cut and styled his hair then, shaved off his beard and treated his face with some lotions and then spun him around to take a look in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” he said. “I look good. Just about any haircut I ever got from a barber in past left me sheared and ugly and needing about a month to look decent again.”

Ricky ruffled up his hair and then gave him a comb. “You comb it back in place. I want you to see you can make it look good really easily.” He went to a shelf nearby and got a jar of shaping cream. “Use this when you need a little hold for an event, a little shaping help. Just put a dab on your fingers. It can help keep your hair in control. Try it out.”

Donovan left with the cream and a new haircut. Glancing at his reflection in the glass window as they left the shop, he said, “Dang, I do look good.”

“Yes, you do. And you’re wearing those new khaki slacks, that navy pull over henley. and the new leather casual shoes we bought.” She smiled at him. “Those girls across the street are staring at you, too, and in a good way.”

He glanced their way but then back at Sophia, feeling oddly more pleased at her smile and admiration. “Do I look better to you?” he asked.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments from me. I liked you before, too, remember, but I’ll bet Miss Tiffany Overton will take another look now.”

Over the next weekends, they practiced dancing together, laughing over their fumbles in his living room, working to get the moves right. She taught him more how to talk to girls, what to say in introduction, what not to say or do.

“Don’t talk yourself out of talking to girls or initiating conversations with them,” she told him. “Male-female culture is still ingrained in us. Women really want men to take the initiative, to come to speak to them, to ask them to dance, to ask them out, to be the one to initiate the first intimacy. They don’t really want to take the initiative but they  do many times when men won’t take the action needed.” She smiled. “It’s really easier than you think.”

“What should I say? Should I say, ‘Hey, I’m Donovan. You look really pretty tonight.’”

“No, that’s moving in too fast. Say something general. ‘This is a great party, isn’t it?’ or at an art gallery or something, walk over and say, ‘I really like this artist, don’t you?’ This gives her an opportunity for feedback. And be ready with some easy follow up discussion after, more details about the party, more details about the artist. See?”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s practice. What would you say to me?” she asked.

He grinned and moved closer. “Hey, good looking. Wanna give me a makeover?”

She laughed and swatted at him. “Be serious, Donovan.”

He shrugged. “That is how we met, Sophia.”

“I know, but that’s business and we knew each other before. We’re talking about making conversation with girls you don’t know and want to know better.”

A few odd thoughts crossed his mind then but he didn’t voice them. Falling for his teacher wasn’t going to help him with the graduation party to come. Still, he was glad when she decided they should practice dancing next.

She got up from the sofa. “You said you weren’t too comfortable dancing, haven’t not done much of it since school years. We should work on that.” She walked over to where he had a CD player on one of his shelves. “See if you can find us a fun CD to dance to and another slow one to waltz to. I imagine that is the only dancing that will be at a graduation party.”

They soon scampered around to a fun rock song, laughing now and soon singing along, with the music. She giggled. “I don’t think you’ve lost your touch with these moves, Donovan.”

“My sisters taught my brother and me. They liked to dance. It was a good way of having free fun, and there were some fun free dances down at the lake pavilion near our house in the summertime.”

“What were your sisters names?”

“Susie and Pamela, younger than Ben and me, but they dragged us down to the pavilion so they’d have someone to dance with.”

“You know I was an only child,” she said. “You’re lucky to have sisters and a brother.”

“Who taught you to dance?”

“I took ballet as a girl, dance lessons later, too.”

“Uh, oh,” he said. “The waltzing I do is more back and forth and traveling around the room. Nobody got into the box step or formal stuff down at the pavilion. Do you think I’ll need to know that?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. Let’s see what you can do.”

They waltzed around the room then, not always smoothly, but close. It felt nice being this close to Sophia Wilton and he could feel her against him, soft and warm, and after a time they both grew quiet, their heartbeats kicking up.

As the music stopped, he looked down at her and saw her wet her lips. And there was a moment, a fine moment, before she pulled back and said, “I think you’ve got this, Donovan.”

She moved to find her purse. “I probably need to head for the house now. And we both have work tomorrow.”

After carrying some glasses to the kitchen, she came back and smiled at him. “You’re going to be a big hit at the graduation party next Saturday night. I hope you wow both your boss and his daughter and that everything turns out as you hoped.”

He stood looking at her. “Well, if everything goes well it will be because of you, Sophia. Thank you. I’ll always be grateful for the time you’ve spent with me.” He smiled. “We’ve had fun, too, haven’t we?”

“Absolutely.” She grinned. “And I’ll expect you to meet me at the diner for lunch one day next week to tell me how everything went.”

“I’ll do that,” he said as she headed toward the door.

The next Saturday, leaving the big party at the Overton Center, Donovan checked his GPS directions to remind himself of the way to Sophia’s house. He didn’t want to wait until next week to tell her how things had gone.

Finding her house, he parked and walked to the door to knock. Sophia peeked out the glass panel by the door and then grinned at him as she opened the door to him. “What are you doing here, Donovan? Is the party already over?”

She stood back to look at him. “Oh, look how handsome you look in that navy suit. So sharp, so polished and suave. And I can see from your smug look that things went well.”

He looked at her, dressed in old shorts and a T-shirt, barefooted with her hair loose around her shoulders. “I didn’t want to wait until next week to see you again,” he told her.

She smiled. “Well, I am tickled you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything. Come in and sit down. Dad’s at an evening wedding shoot tonight or I’d call him to come say hello and see how fine you look.”

Donovan took a breath. “Mr. and Mrs. Overton were stunned at the change in me, even though Mr. Overton had noticed a few times that I was working on making myself over.”

“And Tiffany?” she asked.

“She didn’t snub me tonight.” He laughed. “She didn’t recognize me. I danced well enough to suit her. She suggested we might want to see more of each other. We spent time together and talked, but here’s the thing, Sophia. I couldn’t work up any feelings for her. I didn’t even like spending time with her. All I could think about was how much I wished you were there with me, talking and laughing with me, dancing with me.” He took a breath. “I’m in love with you, Sophia Winton. This may not be the correct way to do things, but it’s the way I’m doing things tonight.”

When he saw her lip tremble and the tears start in her eyes, he swooped her up to kiss her as he realized he’d wanted to do for a long time.

“Oh, Donovan, are you sure?” she asked.

“As sure as I am there’s a moon out tonight, and I sure am hoping I’m not the only one realizing the teacher and the student have a thing going here.”

She laughed. “Honestly, Donovan, you were so cute from the first, I think that’s why I said yes to your crazy idea for a makeover.”

He kissed her again. “So you liked me even back then with my mop hair and pea green suit?”

Sophia giggled. “Well, maybe not the suit, but I liked the man even then.”

He put a hand to her face. “I am stronger, better, and more confident from learning all the things I have with you. I needed a little makeover, but I’ve learned I need you, too, Sophie Winton and I want to marry you. You can count this as an official proposal.”

She put a hand to her heart. “But what about your boss, Donovan?”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch beside him. “A few weeks back, I decided I didn’t like much a boss who would give me an ultimatum like he did. So I decided to find myself another job. I heard you mention the country club was expanding to add an event center for larger events and I suggested to the club’s owner that it might be advantageous to hire a good Operations and Events Manager for the club. He agreed. So I’ll be turning in notice and Larnelle will just have to find another potential suitor for his daughter.”

“Oh, this is wonderful. I know Mr. Simmons, who owns the club. He’s a fine man, Donovan. I think you’ll love working with him. He is hands-on at that club all the time, so well loved by all his employees.” She leaned in to hug him. “I want you to tell me everything.”

“I will maybe later.” He put a hand on her face. “Right now, I’m hoping to hear a ‘yes, I’ll marry you Donovan Alistair’ from you and then maybe we won’t need any words for a time.”

“Yes, yes, Donovan Alistair. I love you and will marry you and …”

She didn’t get to add more because it was a time now for more actions than words.

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Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.