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Muttering to herself, she showered, then, at a loss, headed for her computer again. She was glad to find that Colleen at Bennett, Bretherton, and Pfeiffer had sent another pile of paperwork. Good. She wanted to lose herself in busywork forever.
It was early evening before she lifted her head and wondered when the last time she’d deigned to eat was. Climbing from her chair, she stretched her back, heard it make a disturbing pop, and tried to ignore the words that ran in a circle inside her head: he hasn’t called…he hasn’t called…he hasn’t called…
When the phone rang, Becca jumped as if someone had goosed her. She snatched up her desk phone and said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Becca, it’s Tamara,” her friend greeted her cheerily.
Becca’s heart sank.
“Are you busy? I’m going to grab some dinner and wanted to know if you could join.”
“Sure,” Becca said, hoping she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt. She hadn’t forgotten the last time she’d seen Tamara climbing into Hudson’s truck. Big deal. So what? It’s nothing. She might as well get out of the house. Waiting for a phone to ring was too much like being thirteen all over again.
She agreed to meet Tamara at a Mexican restaurant only a couple of miles away, then changed her clothes, fed Ringo, and was heading for the door when the phone rang again.
She recognized the number and her stupid heart started to pound as she picked up.
“Becca?” Hudson’s voice greeted her, and a flood of warmth rushed into her veins.
“Hi, there,” Becca responded, pretending that her nerves weren’t vibrating like electrical wires-there it was again, that back to thirteen thing. Disgusting.
“I saw you called. Heard your message. I’ve been thinking about things, too, and yeah, I think we should get together, talk things through. It might not be such a bad idea.”
Her stupid heart was slamming against her ribs. “Great.”
“How about later tonight?”
“Sure, after dinner,” she said, frustrated that she’d just made plans with Tamara. “I’ve got plans earlier, but we could meet somewhere…?”
“How about my place, you remember where it is? The old ranch?”
Like it was yesterday.
“Sure do. I’ll be there, sometime after eight,” she said and found that her damned hands were shaking as she hung up. “Maybe thirteen’s too mature,” she confided to the dog as she dashed to the bedroom to change.
She met Tamara at the small restaurant with its faux stucco walls painted as if they were in a Mexican villa, complete with views of an azure ocean and fishing boats. As if here, on the top of Capital in the south hills of Portland, they had a view of the Sea of Cortez. She tried not to keep looking at her watch or rush the meal, but found it hard to enjoy the platter of fajitas they shared or the piped-in peppy, upbeat, almost frantic music.
Not long after the sizzling platter of shrimp and vegetables was served, of course, the subject turned to Jessie.
“Do you think she’s dead?” Tamara asked. She was on her second margarita while Becca sipped through the ring of salt on her first.
Becca shrugged. She was tired of the question. Tired of not knowing.
“I think she’s just messing with us, like she always did.” Tamara spooned shrimp, onions, and peppers into a warm flour tortilla. “Just because Jessie went missing and just because she attended St. Elizabeth’s doesn’t mean she’s dead.”
“Then who is?”
“God knows.” She licked her fingers. “What did you think of Vangie and Zeke?”
“Déjà vu all over again.”
Tamara snorted. Her red hair caught in the lights high overhead as a waiter called out orders in Spanish to a line cook, visible through an open window to the kitchen. “She was sure flashing that ring. Think it’s real?”
“She acted like she and Zeke were engaged.”
“Wonder if she’s gotten over her jealousy?” Tamara lifted a brow. “She sure as hell kept him on a short leash in high school.”
Becca remembered Evangeline pining after Zeke in high school, attending every game or wrestling match in which he competed, and there were a lot, as Zeke had been a star, all-league athlete in something…baseball?
