Olivia (Logan 5)

"Yes, I am," he said firmly. "I would consider it an honor if you would show me about Provincetown. If you're free, of course," he added. "I don't mean to be imposing myself. I mean, if you want to think about it . . ."

"It's not the biggest decision I have to make," I said. "You want something other than seafood, I suppose," I added, sounding too much like a hotel concierge instead of a woman who had just been asked on a date.

He smiled.

"I'm never tired of that, but I do like Italian food." "I know just the place," I said.

"I knew you would. Should I make the reservations?"

"I'll do it," I said. "Come by at seven."

"Seven it is," he said slapping his knees and then standing. "I'm looking forward to it. Well, then, I'll just say good-bye to your father and be on my way."

I watched him nearly stumble over himself to return to my father's office. He waved before he left. I sat there, shaking my head in wonder. I didn't know how long I had been waiting for someone I considered good-looking, someone I knew Belinda would consider good-looking, too, to ask me on a date. It seemed it would never happen, and here it had happened so easily and so quickly it made my head spin. I went in to tell Daddy.

"So he finally asked you, did he?" he said.

"What do you mean?" I began to grow suspicious. "You've been matchmaking again?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "He asked me about you and I said you might consider going out to dinner. That's all. Honest," he replied, lifting his big right palm toward me.

"He wanted to ask me out on his own accord?" "Yes, Olivia, he did. Stop squinting at me like that. Stop being so leery."

"Are we taking over his father's company, Daddy?" He fluttered about his paper work. "Daddy?"

"We might," he admitted, "but it has nothing to do with Samuel Logan asking you to dinner."

"Why do I wonder?"

He shrugged.

"Don't. You're a nice-looking young lady and it's time some nice-looking young man came around, Olivia."

I held him in my gaze until he had to shift his eyes away. I wanted to believe him. For a little while, I thought, I'd be more like my mother and like Belinda. I'd take a chance on my dreams and permit myself to believe in rainbows.

When I went home that night and told Mother I was going on a date, she was very happy for me. It put a little color in her wan face and she sat up in bed to review all my choices for a dress to wear. As soon as Belinda came home and saw me preparing for a date, she became excited, too. It was as if she thought my going out with a man justified everything she had done by suddenly making me more like her. She sat on my bed and watched me flutter about my room, choosing earrings, fixing my hair.

"Why don't you let me do your nails, Olivia? I'm good at it. I did Kimberly's today."

"I never polish my nails," I said.

"Well, you should. Men like a lot of color. You need a darker lipstick."

"I'm not wearing any lipstick."

"Oh," she said laughing. "Then it definitely has to be darker, and you should do your eyebrows."

"I'm not going to start being someone I'm not, Belinda, just because some man asked me to dinner."

"You don't have to change yourself, but you can make yourself more attractive. It's not a sin unless you overdo it," she declared. "You're competing with other women," she concluded.

"What?" I turned on her. "Hardly. I didn't ask him to ask me to dinner. He did of his own volition."

"His what?" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. When you're out with a man, you want to look better than the other women he might see. What's so terrible about it? Just fix your hair differently. Don't let it hang limply, and put on some makeup. Here," she said opening her purse, "try this shade. It works for me and we have nearly the same complexion."

I gazed at it, considering.

"It won't bite you, Olivia. If you don't like how you look, wipe it off."