JENNIFER ANNE MESSING is an author and poet, worship leader, and a wife and mother of three children who resides in Portland, Oregon. She holds a Bachelor of Religious Education degree (B.R.E.) from Covington Theological Seminary in Rossville, Georgia, has a diploma in Journalism and Short Story Writing, and previously served as president of the Oregon Christian Writers. Ms. Messing has had over 150 articles and poems published in many magazines and books including Evangel, Standard, Live, Seek, Bible Advocate, FellowScript, Nudges From God and Romancing the Soul.

“Thanks for shopping at Dress Palace, Mrs. Winters.” I smile at our customer and hand over her package. “See you next time.”

I love my job. I’ve been with Dress Palace for four years. Two years ago, I was promoted to assistant manager. Along with an increase in pay, I enjoy other perks like medical and dental benefits, quarterly bonuses, and paid holidays.

The thing I like least about my job is that most of our customers are women. The few men who do come in buy something for either their wives or girlfriends. Eligible bachelors don’t hang around here. And it doesn’t help that I’m twenty-eight and still single—and looking.

A rich, warm male voice interrupts my thoughts. “Can you help me find a dress that’s suitable for office wear and social occasions? I’m buying a birthday gift for a very special lady.”

His girlfriend, I guess. The attractive man standing before me is a good head and shoulders taller than me; he’s probably in his early thirties. He has wavy, dark brown hair and striking blue eyes.

I smile. “Of course I can help. Any particular color or style of dress you’re looking for?”

“Karin likes hot pink and teal. And she likes floral prints.”

“Wonderful! It shouldn’t be hard to find something. What size are you looking for, sir?”

“Size? Well, uh, she’s about your size. Slender and trim—just like you.” He looks me over with obvious approval.

I look away, trying to conceal the blush I feel creeping up my cheeks. Flattered, but uncomfortable at the same time, I remind myself that he’s buying a dress for his special someone. “Thanks, I try to stay in shape. Now, let me show you our great new selection of dresses.”

I lead him to various displays showcasing our new arrivals. “I hope you find something you like. And let me know if you have any other questions.”

As I turn to help another customer, letting him browse on his own, he stops me. “Thanks. And, please, call me Craig. Craig Colford.”

I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Craig. I’m Marcia Chadwick.”

Craig takes my hand in his warm one and shakes it firmly. For a brief moment, I let myself savor the manly, musky scent of his cologne.

This guy’s taken, I remind myself. Not available. I promptly turn and greet another lady I see browsing through the casual section, working her way piece by piece through a rack of designer jeans. Helping her is a breeze. She knows exactly what she wants, has money to spend, and needs minimal assistance. In less than fifteen minutes, I’m ringing up her purchase of two pairs of jeans, two blouses, and a sweater. An easy sale! I wish I had more customers like her.

“What do you think of this, Marcia?” Craig’s deep voice draws my attention. He’s holding up a stylish dress, its swirls of teal and hot pink are the shades he’s looking for.

“Good choice. I think she’ll like it. That knee-length, figure-flattering style will make it perfect for the office but pretty enough to wear elsewhere.”

“I hope Karin likes it. She’s a special gal, and we’re quite close.” He pauses for a moment and looks into my eyes. “Appreciate your help, Marcia.”

What a neat guy. And thoughtful, too. While I’m ringing up his purchase, I find myself wanting to know more about him and wishing we could talk longer. But I’m at work . . . and there’s Karin.

“What do you do, Craig?” I ask, as I wrap the dress in a plastic garment bag.

“I manage the ground crew for TransWorld airlines. I got off early today and don’t have to work this weekend. TGIF!”

“Yes, I’m really glad it’s Friday.” I hand him his purchase. “Here’s your receipt. And thanks for shopping with us, Craig. Come again.”

He flashes me a quick wink—so quick I almost miss it. Is he flirting with me? I kind of hope he is! My heart races. I glance at my coworker, Patsy, who’s busy with a customer.

Craig smiles and nods before walking out the door. I sigh, relieved, and a little sad. All the good ones are taken.

An hour later, I tell Patsy I’m going to take my lunch break. I’ve been on the sales floor for five and a half hours. It’s time to relax for a while. With purse in hand, I leave the store and stroll down the mall’s long walkway and into Deanna’s Café. I love this quaint little spot. They serve mochas, espressos, pastries, and sandwiches and soup.

I stand near the counter for a few moments, reading the TODAY’S SPECIAL sign. A bowl of minestrone soup and a biscuit sound appetizing.

Without warning, a familiar voice sounds just behind me. “Hi, Marcia. Can I buy you coffee—or lunch?”

My heart quickens when I turn and see Craig standing there. I could get lost in his deep-set blue eyes. “Oh, hi. What a surprise. Done shopping?”

“Yeah, finally. Now I’m starving. Will you join me?”

I hesitate, frowning. “Craig, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What about your special someone . . . the woman you bought the dress for?”

Craig lifts the garment bag off his shoulder and chuckles. “Oh yeah, her . . . Lucky for me she’s my cousin.”

I combine a sigh and laugh—and hope he can’t hear my pounding heart. He’s single and available. Imagine that! Lucky for me she’s his cousin. “Well, I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

“Me, too. And I’m really glad I caught up with you here.” He gazes at me for a long moment. “You have beautiful, long black hair.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“And I’d like to get to know you better.” He turns quickly from me, as though he’s embarrassed. “Menu looks good. What do you think?”

“Lunch sounds wonderful.”