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Dotty Pomfret frowned. “I would call that moss myself. Or maybe jade.”
“Whatever. As long as she buys it.”
The other woman nodded. “Oh, by the way, I need some jute. Where do you keep that?”
Jonas shifted in irritation, wishing the woman would hurry up and leave. He studied Bridget’s face while she pointedly ignored him. Did she own this place or did she just work here? Something about her capable, in-charge manner suggested ownership. He looked around at the custom-built shelving. A skilled carpenter—her husband?—had done that. The attractive displays were undoubtedly her handiwork. He happened to glance at the business cards in a small holder by the cash register and saw her name on one. She did own it. He would have liked to learn more, but the older woman with gray braids seemed happy to monopolize Bridget’s attention.
“It’s on the shelf next to the display of knitting needles. But there are different kinds. What exactly are you looking for?” Bridget inquired.
Jonas gritted his teeth. This kind of female back-and-forth could go on forever. The cozy store had shelves and bins full of yam, fabrics, and other materials for projects to while away the endless winters.
“I don’t know.” The woman shrugged, reaching in her pocket for a slip of paper. “I’m picking it up for my sister. Elizabeth wrote down what she wanted. Hey, if it didn’t come from a sheep, I don’t know what it is. Wool is my thing. She’s into macramé.”
Jonas wanted to roll his eyes but he didn’t. Crafting just wasn’t his thing.
“I’ll help you.” Bridget stepped from behind the counter as the woman headed toward the shelf she’d indicated.
One last chance. Dotty couldn’t see them. Jonas turned to block her path, catching her by the shoulders to stop her when she would have pushed her way past him. Bridget stiffened in resistance, flashing him a resentful look.
“Have dinner with me tonight.” The invitation was halfway between a command and a plea. His fingers began to caress her shoulders. “For old times’ sake.”
The impulse was there to draw her against his chest and kiss her into a submissive mood of acceptance, but Jonas couldn’t do that, not after ten years, and not after the circumstances of his leaving, regardless of what had happened in the interim.
“It isn’t possible, Jonas.” Bridget firmly removed his hands from her shoulders. Aloof, she added, “Have a good time this weekend. I know Bob and Evelyn will enjoy your visit.”
In final dismissal, she brushed past him. The gold of her wedding band flashed on her left hand and Jonas cursed himself for forgetting its presence. He watched her disappear behind the aisle without a backward glance.
He was making a fool of himself. He shouldn’t have come back. It had been too many years since he’d left, and the ashes were cold. It was too late to breathe fire into them now. She was married. Another man had taken his place.
Jonas stormed out of the shop without a backward glance. He was halfway to his car before the mountain air cooled his temper and slowed his stride. The ignition keys were in his hand and he was reaching for the door when he glanced at the skis on top of his car.
Making a split-second decision, he turned away to enter the drugstore. He didn’t have Bob Tyler’s number on his cell phone, but he’d bet anything the Tylers were listed in the local directory. The old booth and its folding door were at the back of the store. How quaint. The phone even had a rotary dial. Jonas hoped the damn thing worked. He thumbed through the thin book until he found the number he was looking for. Dropping coins in the slot, he dialed the number and waited.
A man answered and Jonas spoke briskly. “Hello, Bob, this is Jonas.”
“Jonas! Where are you? Evie has the spare room all ready for you and dinner in the oven.” There was a brief pause before he added, “Evie said if your car has broken down, she doesn’t want to hear about it. No excuse will be accepted for missing dinner tonight.”
“Look, I’m sorry, Bob,” Jonas broke in impatiently, “but something’s come up. I can’t make it.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Bob laughed. “What is she? Blond or brunette?”
Jonas neither confirmed nor denied that there was a woman involved in his decision. “Let me take a raincheck on your invitation, Bob, and I’ll visit another time,” he lied.
“You’re always welcome, you know that.”
“I gave you my cell number in New York, right? And my office number?”
“You sure did.”
“So, uh, if you ever get back to Manhattan, call me,” he offered politely.
“Maybe next month. Evie has been talking about going back ever since our December trip. She wants to do some serious shopping.”
“New York’s the right place for that.”
Bob groaned. “Don’t I know it. Okay, Jonas. Sorry we won’t be seeing you. Take care and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
A few minutes later, Jonas was behind the wheel driving out of town. Maybe I’ll call Eileen when I get back, he thought disinterestedly. He hadn’t seen her for a while, not since before Christmas. Running into the Tylers in New York meant Bridget’s memory had been working on him as early as then.
