Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(74)

Never having proposed to a woman before, Trey had no idea how to go about it. Did a man of the nineties get down on one knee? Should he remove his hat and place it over his heart? None of those things sounded right to him. But since he was asking Jenny the most important question of his life, he didn’t figure he should do it without showing some semblance of respect.

On impulse, Trey slipped off the stool and looked around the doughnut shop. The place held the same five or six people who frequented the place every morning.

“Can I have your attention, please,” he said in a loud voice.

The businessman lowered the newspaper. The cook turned around, the spatula raised in one hand.

“My name’s Trey LaRue,” he said. “I’ve been having coffee here every morning since I arrived in this city, and it seems time I introduced myself. I take it you folks all know each other.”

The five other customers stared back blankly.

“You don’t know each other?”

“No.” It was the woman with one high heel and one tennis shoe.

“Well then, don’t you think it’s time you introduced yourselves to one another? I’m Trey, and I’m visiting from Montana.”

“Hello, Trey,” the waitress responded. “I’m Trixie.”

“I’m Bob, and I’m in advertising.”

“I’m Mary Lou, and I’m an assistant editor at a publishing house.” She waved one shoe in greeting.

The others went around the compact space and introduced themselves and told what they did for a living. Trey acknowledged each one with a brisk nod.

“What brings you to New York?” The question came from the cook, whose name was Steve.

“I came to ask a special woman to be my wife.”

“Has she agreed?” This came from his editor friend.

“Not yet.” He splayed his fingers through his hair, feeling less confident about his decision. “The fact is, I haven’t asked her yet. I’m not exactly sure how to go about it.”

“Just come right out and ask her,” Bob advised.

“But wine and dine her,” was Trixie’s advice.

“Yeah,” Bob teased, “get her good and soused first.”

Mary Lou shook her head slowly. “Don’t you listen to any of that. You tell that young woman what’s in your heart. That’s all you need to do, and if she feels as strongly about you as you do about her, nothing else will be necessary.”

“I shouldn’t take her to a fancy dinner, then?” Trey asked. His newfound friends confused him more than they helped.

“Dinner and champagne won’t hurt,” Trixie assured him, “but Mary Lou’s right. Just tell this special lady what’s in your heart and go from there.”

That sounded like a lot less trouble than getting down on one knee, Trey decided.

“You might try singing to her.”

Everyone turned to stare at Steve, Trey included. As far as Trey was concerned, there were certain things a man didn’t do, and break into song was one of them. One of Jenny’s male friends might consider that, but not him.

“Women like romance, and there ain’t nothing more romantic than to sing. You don’t even have to have that great a voice,” Steve added, a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

“I won’t be doing any singing,” Trey said emphatically.

“You love her, don’t you?” Steve smashed the cigarette into an ashtray.

“Yeah.”

“Then romance her.”

“He’s right about that,” the assistant editor acknowledged. “There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t want to be courted by the man she loves.”

Singing was out of the question, but there were other ways to prove he was as tenderhearted as the men she’d dated in the big city. “What about flowers and chocolates?”

Only the day before, Trey had walked into one of those fancy sweet shops by accident. He’d been blown away at the prices. Why, a man could feed a horse for a month on what they wanted for a box of chocolates! French ones.

Mary Lou shook her head. “Be more imaginative than that.”

“Jenny loves those fat bagels vendors sell on the street corners here,” he said, thinking out loud.

“You can’t woo a woman with bagels,” the guy in advertising insisted. He folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ve got to get to the office. You’ll let us know what happens, won’t you?”

“Sure thing,” Trey promised. He checked his watch. It was early yet. Jenny would still be sleeping, but he’d told her he’d be by to pick her up this morning. She wanted to take him up to the top of the World Trade Center.

Trey left some change on the counter. “I appreciate the advice,” he told his newfound friends.

“Good luck,” Trixie said with a smile.

“If he’s getting married, he’ll need it,” the short-order cook teased, then laughed when Trixie swatted him across the backside with a dishrag.

An hour later Trey stood outside Jenny’s apartment complex. He paced the sidewalk in front of her building, rehearsing in his mind what he wanted to say. It took another ten minutes before he’d gathered up enough gumption to go inside.