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“How was Maggie acting when she came in today?”
“I don’t know.” Jessica scrunched up her face as she thought. “Maybe a little distracted. She’s been that way a lot lately. I think something might be going on with her ex.”
“Has she talked to you about him?”
Even as she asked the question, Zoe knew the likely answer was no. Domestic violence was a silent epidemic with many victims either too afraid or too ashamed to speak out against their abuser.
“No,” Jessica said, confirming what Zoe had assumed to be the case. “You know how Maggie is.”
Magnolia Fenton had three children and an ex-husband with a hair-trigger temper. While he’d never been physically abusive, his systematic belittling and shaming of Maggie, and the way he’d cut her off from family and friends, had taken its toll.
Add to that her lack of marketable skills that kept her from getting a job and saving money and Maggie had felt completely trapped. Her situation resonated with Zoe because of her own experiences and she’d tried sharing her story in an attempt to connect with Maggie. Over the last few months Zoe had believed she was making progress. And now this.
“I’m sure Maggie had a good reason for taking the money,” Zoe said, hoping that was true. “She isn’t a thief.” Something dire would have to be happening for her to do something so drastic.
“Are you going to call the police?” Jessica wrung her hands. She already blamed herself for what had happened and if Zoe reached out to the authorities, no doubt the other woman would never forgive herself.
“No.” That was the last thing Maggie needed. “I’ll give her a call and hopefully we can figure out what’s going on.”
Zoe wasn’t surprised when her attempt to reach Maggie ended in the phone being out of service. From their conversations, Zoe had learned that Maggie’s ex had stalked her after she’d left and even gone so far as to damage her car. The way he’d isolated Maggie had triggered powerful emotions in Zoe and she recognized she’d retreated from Maggie when she should’ve stepped up and become her champion.
At three o’clock Jessica headed off to meet her children’s school bus, leaving Zoe by herself. Fortunately a steady stream of customers entering the store kept Zoe from dwelling on her problems. But as five rolled around and she locked the front door, anxiety-raising thoughts swarmed her tired brain.
The business card Ryan had given her was on her desk in the back room. Given what was going on with her store, Zoe could’ve justified canceling that night’s dinner with Ryan. But the man was a whole lot of distracting and, whether she liked it or not, the way he made her feel was exciting.
Zoe ruthlessly pushed aside her reaction to the man’s charm and reminded herself that her real purpose in going out with him was to glean as much information as she could about his sister and her campaign. Bypassing an elegant sheath in her favorite shade of blue, Zoe chose a black-and-white-striped T-shirt dress, white sneakers and an oversize black cardigan. The outfit was similar to something she would’ve worn in her college days. Comfortable and down to earth, without a designer label in sight. Not exactly guaranteed to stop a man in his tracks.
Making herself forgettable was important if she was to get the goods on Susannah’s campaign without calling attention to herself. If Ryan continued to pursue her, Zoe would be a topic of conversation among the staff. Yesterday, after Ryan had gone in to talk to his sister, Tonya had made it pretty clear that Zoe should maintain her distance from the candidate’s twin brother. Tonya’s reasoning had been a little muddy, but her irritation had come through crystal clear.
Zoe had made a point of declaring she wasn’t interested in Ryan, but Tonya had obviously not believed her. The subtext being that no woman in her right mind could resist him. That question was front and center in Zoe’s thoughts as she parked her car and spied Ryan waiting for her near the front door.
As she walked toward him, she gave herself several seconds to admire his lean, muscular form clad in worn jeans and a long-sleeved, black knit shirt with the cuffs pushed up to reveal his strong forearms. He appeared completely at ease in the modest surroundings.
Bertha’s Kitchen was housed in a two-story building painted robin’s-egg blue and trimmed in purple. Founded in 1979, the restaurant was a primer in Lowcountry soul food and one of Zoe’s favorite places to stop whenever she made a trip to North Charleston to volunteer at the animal shelter.
“Hi,” she said as she stepped within earshot. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic was worse than I expected.”
“Not to worry,” he said with a smoky half smile. “You are worth waiting for.”
At a loss for a clever response, Zoe regarded him in silence. She was accustomed to a certain amount of flattery. Tristan’s friends had often commented on her beauty, but those remarks had always seemed to be for her husband’s benefit, speaking to Tristan’s potency that other men found his wife desirable.
Yet here she stood in her ordinary clothes and Ryan behaved as if she was the most well-dressed woman on the planet. Electricity sparked along her nerve endings, making her hyperaware that his skin radiated the wholesome scent of soap and his shampoo made her think of sunshine.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, grasping at the first safe subject that popped into her mind in an effort to keep the conversation rolling. “The food here is fantastic. Although probably not the sort of fare you’re used to.”
“On the contrary, I come here fairly often.” He gestured for her to precede him into the restaurant. “More so now that Susannah’s campaign headquarters is nearby.”
Her lame attempt to point out their social differences and demonstrate that she wasn’t the sort of highbrow date he was used to had failed miserably. Zoe reassessed her impression of Ryan as he grinned and flirted with the women dishing out plates of fried pork chops, fried chicken, stewed greens, dark roux okra soup and moist cornbread. It was pretty obvious he hadn’t been exaggerating about being a regular because he knew several of the servers and kitchen staff by name and they all knew him.
By the time they carried their trays of food and sweet tea to a table, Zoe was feeling utterly defeated.
“Tell me about yourself,” Ryan said, skipping small talk and jumping straight in. “I want to know everything.”
She’d expected that he’d be like most successful men of her acquaintance and only interested in talking about himself. While she’d prepared a dull story that would ensure he’d lose interest quickly, something about his direct gaze warned her she’d better watch what she said.
“I’m pretty ordinary,” she began, selling her claim with a lackluster tone and cultivated casualness. The struggle to maintain her blasé façade while her pulse hammered away highlighted Ryan’s powerful effect on her. “You’re the one who’s interesting. You run a successful engineering firm with projects all over the world.”
Unfortunately, Ryan wasn’t distracted by her attempt to deflect the attention away from herself. “Where did you grow up?”
