She paused. “It’s been a while.”
“If you can’t remember, it’s been too long,” he said. Then an idea came to him. “What are you doin’ tomorrow?”
“Working,” she said, her shoulders slumping again. “What else?”
He made a buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. You’re goin’ fishin’.”
“Fishing? I’ve never been fishing before.”
“Then I guess it’s my turn to show you some new things.”
“Oh, Rusty.”
The soft way she said his voice sent a shiver down his spine.Whoa, there.Now—actually, never—wasn’t the time for him to catch feelings. It was the time to catch a fish or two, though. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. Around eight.” Usually he fished at dawn, but he’d make an exception.
She shook her head. “I don’t have the time, and you sure don’t have the time. You’ve got all those cars coming in, and the parade coming up—”
“I can make the time. You can too.” He stood. “Go on home, Harper. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
She looked up at him, then nodded. “All right. I’ll go.” She got up from the chair, and he walked her to her Merc. Before she got inside, she said, “What’s the dress code for fishing?”
Rusty laughed. Of course she’d ask that question. Thefish didn’t care, and neither did he. “What you had on that night we had minestrone at your house will be fine. Except the flip-flops. Tennis shoes would be better.”
“So you want me to wear sweats and my glasses?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled at her smirk.Much better.“I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
She paused, then nodded. “All right. See you then.”
As she drove away, he blew out a breath. He’d figure out a way to juggle his schedule tomorrow. His focus was on Harper now. She needed to learn to relax... and he aimed to show her how.
***
“And it can all be yours for the low, low price of fifty-nine ninety-nine.”
Madge dipped the serving-sized spoon into the half gallon of peanut-butter brickle-surprise ice cream she’d bought earlier that day. This was what she was reduced to—watching infomercials and pigging out on ice cream on a Tuesday night. Even at her worst moments, she’d never resorted to such cliché behavior. But after one taste she was helpless to stop eating her feelings.
She took out a big scoop and shoved it past her lips. The cold ice cream and tiny chunks of candy filled her mouth with blissful sweetness. She would regret this later, but right now Yarnell’s was the only comfort she had.
“Order now, before it’s too late,” the overly excited announcer pleaded. “You don’t want to miss—”
Click.She might not have had enough ice cream, but she was tired of the TV. She glanced down at her flannel nightgown and red socks—the same thing she’d put on last night when she went to bed. After the meeting with the lawyers this morning, she’d waited for Harper to call and check on her. Or—and this was more farfetched but could possibly happen—for Don to show up and beg her again to change her mind, or at least explain his reckless decision. Nothing. Not a single peep out of either one.
She shoved another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
When she was on her third huge bite, the doorbell rang. She froze, the ice cream half melted in her mouth. That had to be Don. No one else would stop by unannounced after 9:00 p.m. She didn’t want to see him, not like this. Maybe if she didn’t move, he’d think she wasn’t home and he’d go away.
The doorbell rang again. Then a third time. No, he wasn’t going away.
Madge hurried to the kitchen and shoved the ice cream into the freezer, the spoon still sticking out of the container. She grabbed the kitchen towel from the hook and wiped her mouth with it, then tried to smooth down her hair. Her soon-to-be ex had seen her looking worse than this, but not often. Even during her relaxed moments she tried to look her best.
As the doorbell rang a fourth time, she slowed her pace and calmly walked to answer it. She might look like a wreck on the outside, but she could still maintain her composure.
But when she opened the door a crack and peeked out, Don wasn’t there.
