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And if she didn’t bother him, he might forget all about his plans to come see her tonight.
Willie studied her. Tess couldn’t help but quail under the weight of her curious stare. What was she thinking? Did she hear something in Tess’s quick refusal? Or did she know exactly why Tess was so hesitant to ask anything of the other deputy?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t ask. But when Willie gave her upper arm another reassuring squeeze, she let out the breath she didn’t even know she was holding.
“Let me get my purse.”
“Your purse?”
“It’s got my keys. You heard the sheriff, she said for you to ask me if you need anything. Well, you need a ride. I’ll take you back myself.”
Tess blinked in surprise. “I— you don’t have to do that.”
“Hamlet is small, sugar, but it’s still a hike out to Maria’s fancy little place. Plus the temperature’s dropping. We might be in for another wicked storm like the other night. You don’t want to be caught out in that.”
No, she thought, remembering what happened the last time it rained. She did not.
21
Tess continued to hope that Mason wouldn't show. Fingers crossed, toes crossed, the whole deal. Her dreaded meeting with Sheriff De Angelis left her drained, both emotionally and physically. Her eyes ached. Her whole body was tense. All she wanted to do was take some of the doctor’s sleeping pills and knock out for another week.
Maybe, by then, all of this would finally be over
.
Yeah, right. She highly doubted that. It wouldn’t be over until she managed to escape Hamlet. And everything that she knew about Mason—which, admittedly, wasn't much—told her that he would be there at seven o’clock on the dot.
She wouldn’t be able to escape the earnest deputy either.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she prayed. Now, Tess didn't quite wish a police emergency on anyone. Didn’t mean that she would turn her nose up at a fender bender or a quick smash and grab. A bar fight at Thirsty’s, even. Just something small and harmless to put Deputy Walsh back on patrol.
The evening sped by. At six o’clock, she gave up hope. Mason would be there within the hour and, as much as she wanted to pull her blanket up over her head and hide, she decided she might as well get this over with.
Because this trip was designed to be a second honeymoon for her and Jack, Tess had conveniently packed a few outfits that could be used for a date night. After she showered and dried her hair, she searched through the remaining clothes in her dresser drawer.
It wasn’t easy.
Anything fancy made it seem like she was trying too hard, or that she was reading as much into this meal as Mason apparently was. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. In the end, she put on a pair of jeans, an off-the-shoulder top and heels. Casual but not sloppy. It would have to do.
She made sure to tell Maria at breakfast that morning that she would be missing dinner, both because she wasn’t sure she’d make it back by the nine o’clock curfew and because she felt bad about leaving the other woman alone again. She’d come to look forward to the hour or so they spent eating and simply talking in the serenity of Ophelia’s kitchen.
And because Maria automatically assumed she was seeing her brother, Tess had felt compelled to admit the truth about agreeing to go out with Mason. Maria didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The look she gave Tess was enough.
Tess didn't blame her. After the way Mason treated her yesterday, spending time alone with him was the last thing she wanted to do. She just couldn’t see any way out of it.
At ten to seven, she decided that if she continued to pace the length of the Lavender Room, there was a good chance she’d jump out of the window again. Shaking off her anxiousness, she opened the door and peeked down the hall, glancing toward Maria’s room.
The door was closed. Either Maria had gone out for the evening herself or she didn’t want to be disturbed.
Lucky.
So that she didn’t have to worry about Mason bothering Maria when he rang the doorbell, Tess decided to wait for him in the foyer. She thought about bringing her purse, decided against it, then grabbed her coat and another outdated magazine to peruse while she waited.
It wasn't long. The clock had just finished chiming the hour when the chirpy doorbell echoed through the room.
Seven o’clock on the nose. She called it.
With a nervous sigh, Tess set her magazine down on the couch, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her blouse, then shimmied on her coat. Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she got up and answered the door.
