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“Actually, I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun at a family picnic. And that Ethel, such an…interesting…woman. I bet she’s the life of every party. You know, if you’re trying to terrify small children.”
Allie’s lips twitched in irritation. “Well, she has mellowed with age. Used to be, she’d terrify the adults, too.” Allie caught his eyes, deep green and sparkling with humor, and they both burst into laughter.
His gaze warmed, and she swallowed hard when she realized it had dropped to her mouth. For an insane moment, she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her, and suddenly, their laughter trailed off. She swallowed again. Hard.
Just then, one of the kids across the lawn screamed, “Tag!” and the moment—whatever it was—vanished.
“I’m sorry if they offended you,” she said, trying to regain her composure on all levels. “I knew that would happen. But there gets to be a point when they really just have to move on.”
“No offense taken. That was nothing compared to the hundreds of letters I’ve received criticizing me—or threatening me—for my comments. It doesn’t faze me anymore. But I am touched by your defense of my honor. I hope it won’t cause you much grief later.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m used to it. In fact—” She glanced around in annoyance. “I’ve put in my time. I’m guessing I won’t be missed if we leave. Want to get out of here?”
“I don’t know,” he dead-panned. “I still haven’t tried that Jell-O with the pretzels.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you the damn recipe.”
Chapter Seven
They were quiet on the return drive. With the radio playing an old Aerosmith song, it wasn’t too difficult for Allie’s thoughts to venture back to the moment when she’d first laid eyes on Sam Fratto her freshman year of high school.
Allie had been serving the first—and last—detention of her life with the air of a martyr, when Sam had walked in. And although his gaze had barely registered her presence as he scanned the room seeking his friends, she’d seen her future in those light hazel eyes.
After that day, and every day for the next two years, Sam was always on Allie’s radar. She’d know when he’d be at his locker or down in the lunch room hanging out with his friends so she could casually walk by. She even knew the make, model, and tag number of the car he drove every day to school—gray Pathfinder, LX, plate number 867 TBM. And it hadn’t been a coincidence that she had served on the newspaper staff her sophomore year. She’d applied at the end of freshman year after learning Sam was going to be continuing his stint as the paper’s photographer.
Can you say stalker?
She had come a long way since that overweight, insecure teenager with braces and poodle hair.
Her teeth were now straight and bleached white, her hair a lighter blond with a perfect combo of golden highlights—something she’d learned to apply herself over the past ten years since her teacher’s salary didn’t permit regular salon indulgences—and she owned three pairs of knee-high boots, the zippers of which she could slide up her calves with ease. No bulging there.
But was she still hung up on Sam Fratto?
She considered the past couple of days and how much she’d enjoyed his company, despite the bad footing they’d started off on. The comfort of his presence. The thrill she’d felt earlier today when she’d walked down her hallway after showering and saw the unmistakable moment when Sam had checked her out. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it, but damn, it had felt amazing while it lasted. And last, the heart-stopping moment when she thought he was actually going to kiss her.
Heck, yeah. She was totally hung up on him.
“How is it that you ended up at St. Andrew’s?” Sam asked, interrupting her stroll down memory lane. “After meeting your family, I’m struggling to see the connection, since they’re all so…not Catholic.”
She chuckled. “My mom. She was Catholic and, according to my dad, it was important to her I have that same grounding. After she died, he enrolled me at St. Mary’s elementary school—the same school Violet attends now. Molly also helped out, getting me to church every Sunday.” She recalled a few Sundays when Molly had been nursing a terrible headache—which she later learned was a symptom of something called a hangover—and instead they’d head for the Village Inn. Allie would order French toast with strawberries, heavy on the whipped cream, and Molly would sip coffee and chew on dry toast. “Well,” she added wryly, “most Sundays, anyhow.”
“I imagine that might have made things somewhat…awkward…in your household.” He stole a glance at her, a trace of a smile on his lips.
She laughed. “An understatement. I think when they were first married, Peg had envisioned bringing the two of us into the proverbial fold. But my dad can be fairly stubborn. By the time Laney came along, Peg had come to terms with his non-conformance.”
“Peg impressed me as a rather persistent woman. I’m sure it wasn’t easy on you. Especially with the pressure of fitting in.”
“It wasn’t too bad. At least, until Laney got old enough to notice. You should have seen Peg’s face the day she started begging to go to church with me and Molly. When Peg asked her why, she said because she’d only have to go for one hour instead of three, and she’d get juice and donuts.”
He delivered a rare, full grin. “The important stuff, in other words.”
“Eventually, I discovered I enjoyed going. Not just as a source of vexing Peg. It brought me closer to my mom. I was so young when she died. It became a comfort.”
The car got quiet again, until Sam pulled in front of her driveway. It was time for him to go, and for some reason, she felt oddly deflated at the prospect of having him leave.
When he sprang from the car and came over to open the door, she was surprised.
He scanned the neighborhood. “Want to make sure you get inside okay.”
