She glanced to the side before she took a large gulp of her wine, taking a moment to debate something. “They were supposed to come in last weekend. It didn’t work out.”
She’d said it lightly enough, as if passing on the weather report, but I had briefly glimpsed a tension to her shoulders when my mother had asked about them. Many Green Valley families were large and interconnected. Janice’s former stepmother, Belle Cooper, had several ex-husbands, and there were so many Hill family members, nobody could keep track. Who would she have to rely on for help if her immediate family wasn’t around?
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine. It’s hard to coordinate our schedules.” She cleared her throat. “I’m used to being the pushy, sad woman who devotes all her life to her students.”
“Not sad. Admirable,” I blurted. It felt too honest. I quickly added, “Better than the washed-up musician who sits around being...what did you call me? An entitled, spoiled brat?”
“Something like that.” She winced. “I’m sorry for all the name-calling.”
“Not the marching band?”
“No, that was hilarious. But my anger may have been a little bit misplaced. I was just feeling—” She changed her mind midsentence. “I was just really tired.”
I cleared my throat uncomfortably, deciding what to say to this news. I wanted to reach for her and tell her that her family had no idea what they were missing, but since she had been calling me names not so long ago, she may not take much stock in my opinions.
“Sorry. Way too heavy,” she joked and finished her glass of wine. “So, tell me about your garden. You seem weirdly attached to it, but convince me it’s totally normal behavior for a man your age.”
She shifted the topic off her before I could ask more.
I would get around to telling her why I was here. Eventually.
But for now, the food was good, the environment was better, and the company was the best. We chatted for a while. I may not have convinced her why gardening was totally normal and not at all weird, but she didn’t poke fun. Not as much fun, at least. Our knees bumped two different times before the quartet packed up for the night and left after saying their goodbyes.
Our knees bumped five more times after that. And one bonus arm touch. She lightly dropped her hand onto mine while laughing hard at one of my Bunco Broads stories.
Our plates and glasses had been cleared a while ago. We sipped decaf coffees and were running out of things to order. We sat so long that the Saturday dinner rush settled into a few tables of couples close together, arms wrapped around each other. This had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. Maybe my mom was right, and I was hiding out. Was Mari feeling the same? Or was this part of the charm she used to get her donations?
But if she was having a nice time like I was, what came next would suck even harder. The realization made me sick. I was about to disappoint this woman, and I never wanted to do that.
“So now all these moms are constantly finding excuses to come into the school and go to the car wash. Actually, our PTA volunteer numbers have never been so high.” She laughed, finishing her story.
I chuckled too, but had only partially listened. Not just because the story was about a hot guy at her work but because the more charming and quick-witted she was, the longer she spoke, the harder it was not to fall for her. She was cool and tenacious, not to mention a total knockout.
“I need to tell you something,” I blurted.
She held my gaze for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Did you know that your mom mentored me when I was in high school? I think you were in freshman band, so I didn’t know you.” The tension in my shoulders tightened.
I pushed down the words that had been about to spill out. “No. I don’t think she mentioned it,” I said dryly. I didn’t love where this was going.
“She wouldn’t, would she, as modest as she is?” She pushed away her empty mug and sat forward. “If it wasn’t for her, I would have never even applied to college or pursued a career in music theory. She was so supportive of my moderate, at best, talent.”
I shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the place. There was nobody to save me.
“It only takes one person to change the whole trajectory of a life. I’m sure you had someone who believed in you unconditionally and supported you.”
“Same person, actually,” I said with a huff. “She’s...one of the most giving women I know.”
“She really is. You see where I’m going with this, right?”
“I mean, it’s so subtle, but I’m picking up something.”
“Ah, and just when I thought you put your sarcasm away for the night.”
“No, it’s always there, lurking just below the surface.” I tugged at my hair, realizing now that the curls were long since freed from their gel prison. “But I really need to tell you something. I can’t help?—”
“Oh, hell no.” The anger I’d witnessed briefly had returned, and I braced myself.
