I gave a big, overzealous smile to match her own fakey attitude. “You are the second person that’s told me that today. Guess I’ve got that all-American look.”
She scrunched up her face. “No. It’s not that. You just remind me of someone who left town at least a year ago. I should have known you weren’t her. She’d have to have guts to show her face around here again.”
Great. I was the unsuspecting twin of some small-town pariah. I hadn’t thought anyone else’s face could be as featureless as mine.
“David said you’re new in town.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Tammy Johnson. I own the Beauty Boutique on Maple Street. Stop in some day. I’d love to get to know you.”
Right. I squeezed politely and dropped my arm. What she really meant was that she’d love to get her hands on the overgrown haystack on my head. My stubborn streak vowed that her clippers and callus-free palms would never touch a strand.
“I’ll be sure to stop in. I’m Tish Amble. Nice to meet you.”
She’d done a great job keeping eye contact during our conversation, but now she gave me a fast once-over before turning back to David.
My insides tightened. Not everyone could be as put together as her little prima donna self. She could cut those of us with a fashion handicap a little slack.
“I meant to ask you, David,” she said in a silky-smooth voice, “any word from your wife?”
Air drained out of my lungs in a surprised gush. My eyes poked out and my cheeks sucked in. I felt like an astronaut who’d just lost atmosphere.
Wife? I was sharing a shopping cart with a married man? Gee, when had he planned on telling me that tidbit?
At least he had the good sense to look embarrassed.
He shifted his weight to the opposite leg as his fingers did a quick tattoo on the handle of the cart. “No. I haven’t heard from Rebecca lately.”
My eyebrow twitched. Another case of wayward wife. Must be an epidemic in Rawlings.
Tammy ducked her head in a show of repentance. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. Got to run.”
She flashed me a parting glance as she walked up the aisle and out of view.
I leeched onto David’s eyeballs with a glare of accusation. But my anger fled when I saw the look on his face. His brow was furrowed in sadness and a cloud of emotion gathered in his gaze.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He obviously hadn’t gotten over the woman who’d left him. I was searching my Miss Manners data bank for an appropriate comment, when he saved me from uttering the inane words.
“Tammy means well. We all miss Rebecca.” His voice sounded thick. “It’s hard. Every time I open the mail, I expect to see divorce papers.”
He wheeled the cart into the next aisle and I followed mutely behind.
Ahead of me, David put a box of Sugar Puffs in the cart. My heart did a flip-flop. Here was a guy who needed a woman to watch out for him. No one should consume that nasty sweetened cardboard.
“Here, try this granola,” I said, passing him my brand. “You’ll love it. And it’s good for you.”
He took the box from me and set it in the cart. With a moment’s hesitation, he put the Sugar Puffs back on the shelf.
I admired the way the ligaments played along the back of his hands. I could picture how well-suited those long fingers were for a computer keyboard. I knew they would be soft, gentle . . .
I cleared my throat. It didn’t seem fair of Rebecca to just leave him hanging like this. If she didn’t want to patch things up, she ought to at least give him the dignity of setting him free. She could step aside and give someone else a chance to erase the sorrow from his features.
My mind slid back to Tammy’s perfect figure. Unless I was mistaken, I wasn’t the only candidate interested in taking on the job.
Maybe I’d stop by the Beauty Boutique after all.
7
A song rolled off my tongue as I grabbed my groceries from the backseat and headed toward the house. I had more fun shopping today than I could remember. David was ever the gentleman. He didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t talk too much about himself. We’d been content just pushing a cart together.
He’d helped me load my supplies into the car at the grocery store, then followed me home, giving a friendly beep of farewell as he headed down the street to his own driveway. I could hear the slam of his car door two garages over even now.
I smiled, breathing in the bitter scent of crushed autumn leaves. It felt good to dip my big toe back into the pool of human companionship.
I paused at the steps to the back porch and wrinkled my nose at the cedar growing out of control against the house. I made a mental note to replace it with a short, tame barberry and plenty of wood chips. Then buyers could better appreciate the beauty of the turned spindles that followed the length of the rail, especially once all the trim got a fresh coat of white paint come summer.
I continued up the steps, reaching for the keys while trying to keep hold of the paper bags in my arms. The ring jangled free of my pocket. At the same moment, my toe kicked something soft.
I jerked back, expecting to see the mangled corpse of a jack-o’-lantern, a prank in keeping with the season. Instead, a cloth sack filled to the brim with ripe, juicy tomatoes awaited discovery.
I glanced across the fence to Brad’s backyard. Obviously, he decided to follow through on his promised delivery despite my less-than-stellar behavior. How sweet.
As I put away my grocery items, I replayed my afternoon with David. He’d been so attentive, unloading the cart at the checkout lane. I found it hard to believe he’d been raised a “commoner,” as he put it. David was nothing if not well-bred. And it had been a good long time since a man went out of his way to treat me like a lady. I knew better than to get my hopes up, but it never hurt to dream.
I went to the porch and retrieved the gift tomatoes. I unloaded at least a dozen of them into the veggie bin. I’d probably look like a tomato by the time I got done eating them all. If Brad had mentioned this peace offering before I went shopping, I could have saved a buck eighty-nine.
I closed the fridge. Outside, rain began pelting the earth. The wind blew a sheet of water against the kitchen window.
A crash of thunder ripped through the house, shaking the floor beneath me. Lightning followed close on its heels, flashing a brilliant white against the door to the basement as I passed by. For a split second, the outline of a woman appeared on its painted surface.
I screamed and fell backward. My head bumped against the wall behind me. The lightning flashed again. The panels were bare.
I gave a laugh of relief. I’d been nearly knocked unconscious by my own shadow. I rubbed the back of my head.
“Pull it together, Tish,” I said to the empty room. I stood up and patted the dirt off my backside, hoping to brush off a little imagination with it.
It had been only my shadow on the door, not some specter beckoning to free her wronged spirit. With Officer Brad and Lloyd & Sons as my witnesses, there was no body in my basement.
From where I stood, I could see that the bolt still secured the door. Even the swamp monster couldn’t get up here. Still, I wasn’t feeling very brave. I inched my way past, never taking my eye off the doorknob, expecting to see it turn any second . . .
I made it to the bathroom and flipped the lock.
How had I gone all afternoon without thinking of the body that was not in my basement? Obviously, being in David’s company helped. I could only hope that I’d get to spend more time with him—I had to do something to keep my sanity. It would be pathetic if the neighbors found me one day, locked in my bathroom, rocking back and forth on
