She yanked out a few invaders between the white impatiens that bordered the patio, then took a desperately needed water break. She plopped down on one of her patio chairs under the shade of the roof, grabbed her water bottle off the table, and took a big, refreshing drink. Then she slouched in the chair and looked at her handiwork. But Britt wasn’t far from her mind.
For the third morning in a row, Britt had left the house before eleven o’clock, and each time, she didn’t say where she was going. Amy assumed it was K&Bs. Where else would she go? But shewas spending more time there than she had in years, and that was curious. There was also something else different about her daughter—she was smiling. A lot. Even humming sometimes. Always one of those seventies songs she loved that Amy was indifferent about.Give me U2 and Dave Matthews Band any day.
But it wasn’t just that. Britt was also looking different. Her skin wasn’t as pale, and Amy chalked it up to the daily walks she’d suddenly decided she needed to take. No complaints from Amy because Britt needed the exercise and sunshine. But her skin tone couldn’t make that much of a difference. Her clothes were still the same too. Britt always had her own style. Eclectically put together, if that was a thing.
Amy tapped her chin, trying to put her finger on what had changed with her daughter. A bee landed on her water bottle, and she waved it off. Then it hit her—it wasn’t how Britt looked that was different. It was how she carried herself. Her steps were sure, her shoulders squared, her chin up. She hadn’t noticed her pulling or tugging on anything lately either. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, her anxiety-ridden daughter wasconfident.
Amy was glad but befuddled. What caused the change? Was it her decision to be Savannah’s maid of honor? Amy and Britt had gone shopping last night for the shower, buying everything that matched Savannah’s French-country-meets-Texas-cowboy theme. That sounded like a disaster to Amy, but Savannah was making it work and they were able to find everything. Britt had seemed confident then too, and unbothered by the crowds as she and Amy had a blast picking out favors, decorations, and partyware.
It was a miracle.
She stood, halting her thoughts. Britt was coming into her own, and however it was happening, Amy wasn’t going to question it, only support and encourage the change.
She was about to go back to her flower bed when her phone rang. Picking it up off the table, she was stunned at what she saw on the screen.
“Well, well, well,” she said, staring at Max’s name. The phone continued to ring as she considered whether to answer it. She hadn’t heard from him since their movie night almost three weeks ago. No call, no text. Not even a butt dial. It would serve him right if she didn’t answer. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in pursuing a friendship with her.
At the last minute, she slid her thumb across the screen. “Hello?” she said in a detached tone, as if she had no idea who was calling.
“Hi, Amy. It’s Max Monroe. I’m sorry it’s been a while since we spoke. I’ve been swamped with work.”
Such an original excuse. But she wasn’t mad at him per se. There had been no expectations for anything between them. She was mad at herself for being so annoyed that he didn’t contact her. She’d even been questioning whether she said or did something wrong, and she hated when she did that to herself. Last week she’d finally let him go and hadn’t thought about him. Now he popped back up in her life.
“Amy? You still there?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I’d hoped to get back in touch with you soon after seeing the movie, but I had an unexpected out-of-town trip, and then several cases that needed my attention. I really have been busy.”
To his credit he sounded contrite, and she had no reason not to believe him, other than her apparently still-existent difficulty trusting anyone of the male persuasion.Thanks, Daniel.“Ugh,” she said, shaking her fingers at her throat in a cut-off motion.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Is there something I can do for you, Max? I’ve got a flower bed emergency going on here.”
To her surprise, he chuckled. “Weeds out of control again?”
“Always. But I shall prevail.” She sat back down, feeling less tense. “Sorry work has been such a bear for you.”
“Part and parcel of the job. I don’t have much time to chat, unfortunately. But I wanted to ask if you’d like to attend a party with me. My boss, Arthur Pickett—did I mention him to you?”
“Yes. I think at the coffee shop.” She couldn’t say for sure, it was such an insignificant detail at the time they were getting to know each other.
“His family is throwing a surprise sixtieth birthday party in a week. It will be at their home in University Park.”
She let out a low whistle. “Sounds fancy already.”
“Oh, it is. Black tie, of course.” He sighed. “I’ve been there once before, for a Christmas party. Don’t get me wrong, Lila Pickett is the consummate hostess. But fancy events are not my thing.”
They weren’t Amy’s either.
“It would be so much more bearable if you would accompany me. I enjoyed our last outing, and I think we’ll both have a good time. Or at least try to.”
“Since you’re making it sound so attractive,” she said, laughing. “Sure, why not?” She’d have to find a suitable dress, but she was always up for retail therapy. “I’m happy to go with you, Max. Thanks for inviting me.”
She thought she heard him exhale a breath. “Great. Frankly, I thought you would hang up on me. If you even answered the phone. I promise I won’t be so neglectful in the future.”
“A text every once in a while would be nice,” she admitted.
