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Theblack bob was now a light brown, the girlish figure slightly rounder.
Butthe lipstick.Oh, how he loved that shade of red.Evenwhen it stained his collar beyond repair.
“Gayle.”
Gayleblinked away her tears, surprised at hearing her name.
Thelast timeLouhad seen her, all those years ago, she was also crying.Seemedhe had that effect on her.Thewoman he never stopped loving.
Gaylesquinted, moving closer. “DoIknow you?”
Thewords wouldn’t come.Lousimply stood there, the shock of seeing her, racing through him like a bolt of electricity.
Aray of sun shone on the leafy ground between them, like a spotlight from heaven.Loutook a tentative step forward. “You’reas beautiful today as the first timeIsaw you inMr.Jones’sclass.”
Hewatched asGayle’sexpression slowly transformed from confusion to recognition.Hereyes widened in shock that matched his own. “Itcan’t be.”
Shespoke, barely above a whisper. “Lougee?”
Thenickname was a mashup of his names he hadn’t heard in five decades.
Henodded, his own eyes watering.
Fora heartbeat nothing moved.Notthe birds in the sky, nor the leaves on the branches.
AndthenGayleclosed the space between them, falling blissfully into his arms.
* * *
“Sorry,Wing-Wanclosed tonight for sit-down service,” theChineseproprietor announced.Lilylooked around the small dining room.Trueto the man’s word, no one was seated.
Afterleaving the middle school,Wyatthad a hankering forKungPaoChickenand dumplings. “Let’sdo takeout,” he said.
Thirtyminutes later, she andWyattwere seated on the floor of his living room, open containers ofChinesefood between them.Afire was roaring in the hearth.Wyattstood, returning moments later with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and an opener.
Lilyfelt more relaxed than she had all day.Thetime together at the school seemed to have sparked a truce between them.
Withwooden chopsticks,Lilydug into the white and red takeout box, snatching a piece of chicken and popping it into her mouth.Delish.
Bernieshowed up to check on things.He’dbeen oddly absent when the food arrived, probably wiped out from the time with the kids.Shelifted the boxes out of his reach which led to a display of pleading puppy dog eyes. “Sorry,Bernie.”
Berniegot the message and traipsed over to his food bowl, none too pleased.
“Doyou have any idea who the project owner is?”Wyattasked.
Lilychewed and swallowed.Itwas fun while it lasted. “Ithought we agreed not to speak about the mall.”
“Right,”Wyattsaid. “Sorry.”Heopened the wine and poured them each an inch of the crimson liquid.
Sheknew she was stepping back into a mine field but what the hell. “No, it’s a blind deal.Onlythe company’s top brass knows the owner’s identity.”
Thatseemed to surprise him. “Isthat common?”
“Notreally butIimagine they anticipated some pushback.Whenthat happens, investors prefer to stay under the radar.”
“Youmean, hide behind a corporation.”
“Yep.Keepsthe hate mail at bay.Ourfirm becomes the first and only line of defense.”
