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“My field is fashion, not finance, and don’t you dare try that tough love stuff on me.”
Luke still found it difficult to look at her. “I wasn’t. Take a class on money management, hire an accountant, just don’t depend on me any longer to bail you out.”
Marsha stood and came toward him. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You took this job, which has to pay close to nothing, just to spite me. And look at you! Do you have to let these fugitives from juvenile hall beat you up?”
Luke never explained why he’d taken his job, and he wasn’t even tempted now. He turned away from the window. “I’ll never do anything simply to spite you. Quite frankly, you’re no longer that important to me. Now your minute is up. Good-bye.”
“I’m going to call my attorney, and we’ll just see who has the last word,” Marsha fumed, and she slammed the door on her way out.
Luke had kept his temper, but it was scarcely a source of pride. It was just another day at Lost Angel, and a long afternoon, in which he would have to pull himself together to lead the discussion group, lay ahead.
“I need a strawberry shake,” he told Pam as he passed her desk.
“It’s a shame about your eye. Better make it two,” she advised.
Luke laughed at her suggestion, but he thought if he ran a couple of extra miles that night, he just might slurp down three without swelling up like a balloon. But as he sipped the first a few minutes later, he began to wonder if Catherine Brooks might not also be partial to strawberry shakes. He would have to ask her, if she ever came back.
Chapter Five
Catherine’s doorbell rang at 7:00 p.m., and assuming it must be Joyce stopping by, she swung the door open without bothering to glance through the peephole. Then she had to hide her dismay when she found Luke Starns standing on the front porch holding a drink container.
“Dr. Starns?” Catherine didn’t wish to appear inhospitable, but she was simply astonished to find him there.
Luke dipped his head and appeared truly contrite. “I’m sorry, I know it’s rude to just show up without calling first, but I owe you an apology and thought it ought to be delivered in person.”
He’d changed his clothes since she’d last seen him, but he was still casually dressed in a Madras sport shirt and jeans. If he’d gone to the trouble to look his best, even with a black eye, she strongly suspected there was more on his mind than a plea for forgiveness, but she was far too curious to send him away.
“An apology?” she repeated incredulously. “That looks like a milkshake to me.”
“Yes, it is. I brought it as a peace offering.”
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nbsp; His left eye was nearly swollen shut, but it scarcely diminished his appeal. “Is it strawberry?” she inquired.
“Sure is.”
“Then come on in,” she invited. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d tasted a milkshake, but it most certainly would have been chocolate rather than strawberry.
Luke handed her the milkshake as he stepped over the threshold. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. We bought it for the family we didn’t get around to having. I was just washing my dinner dishes. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, thank you.” Luke followed her into the kitchen.
She’d been watching the network news on a small portable television set placed in a convenient alcove between the cupboards in the adjoining breakfast room. She shut it off and pulled out a chair for Luke at the breakfast table.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” she asked. “Ice for your eye? It must hurt.”
“Yeah, it does, but I’ve suffered worse, and I didn’t come here hoping for refreshments or first aid. I’m just embarrassed to look as though I lost a fight.”
He scooted out the chair beside the one she’d indicated and waited for her to slide into it before he took his seat. “Now, why don’t you try the shake, and I’ll make a sincere effort to keep our conversation from deteriorating into an argument.”
She slipped the paper from the end of the straw and took a long sip. “Say, this is good.” She removed the plastic lid, got up to get a glass, and poured half for him. “Pam swears strawberry shakes have remarkable restorative powers. Drink up.”
He shook his head. “Please don’t distract me, or I’ll make a mess of what I’ve come to say.”
He was frowning as though maintaining his concentration truly were difficult, and her heart sank with the sudden realization that he must intend to ban her from Lost Angel, and not for a few days, but forever. At least he hadn’t given her such harsh news over the telephone, but the possibility still stung.
