“I do. I do. I’ve always liked lamb,” Mr. Hines said nervously. “I never meant to imply I didn’t like lamb-”
“You don’t like sponge cake with marshmallow frosting?”
“I do. Or I suppose I do. Honestly, it isn’t that. I just…”
Mr. Hines just didn’t like to make decisions quickly. Another customer approached; he stamped three books with the wrong date and then did them over, glancing up twice at Bett.
“I’ll be right back,” she promised as two more people came up with their books. She hustled into the rest room to use her cell in private. “Mom, do we have enough for one extra for dinner?” Not that she needed to call. Her mother was a big fan of leftovers. Bett thought wryly that she could have brought an impromptu army to dinner and there still would have been food left over.
“Of course. Who is it?” her mother asked.
“Theodore,” Bett answered. “Theodore Hines. The librarian in town; he’s a wonderful old friend of ours.”
“Well, fine. Theodore-you call him Ted?”
Bett tapped the phone with the tip of her nail. “Um. Actually, we’d better stick with Theodore. Be home in a little bit, Mom.”
When Bett very gently herded Mr. Hines out of the pickup twenty minutes later, he was still flustered and apologizing for nothing that Bett could figure out, clearly bewildered at being offered a home-cooked dinner. He nearly balked again when he saw Sniper sitting on the seat; Bett resisted the urge to pat his fanny up into the truck before he could get away. He kept his hands folded meticulously in his lap four inches from the cat as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home.
“You’re absolutely positive this is going to be no bother?”
“Absolutely positive. My mother’s name is Elizabeth,” she mentioned, and rapidly turned to other subjects. Getting Theodore to relax was all uphill work. Shakespearean sonnets helped, and so did a discussion on medieval music. By that time, the librarian was doing all the discussing, since Bett knew absolutely nothing about the subject, but she’d moved from Mr. Hines to Theodore. A massive breakthrough.
And just in time. They were edging over the last hill before the driveway that led to the house. The sun was just squinting over the horizon in a blaze of orchid and fuchsia hues that for no reason at all made Bett think of making love with Zach.
Zach, as it happened, was pulling into the drive just ahead of her. She frowned absently, noting the outline of a head in the passenger seat of his truck. The last thing she needed at the moment was another visitor just before dinner. Red Hornack stepped out of the vehicle, laughing heartily at something Zach had said, as Bett turned onto the gravel and parked next to them.
Red owned the local feed store. He was a big, blustery, good-humored man with a fluff of red-gray hair on top of his head. He had half a dozen grown children, and had lost his wife a few years back. Bett and Zach knew him vaguely, having stopped in from time to time; he carried rabbit food and salt licks and wild bird seed, the kind of thing Bett couldn’t buy for her wild creatures in the grocery store.
Mr. Hines stiffened the moment he saw Red. Bett patted his hand reassuringly. “You know Red Hornack?” she asked lightly, and frantically tried to catch Zach’s eye as she bounced out of the truck.
“Come in, come in,” she urged the librarian.
“Little Bett!” Red boomed, and zeroed in for a rib-crunching hug.
As soon as she’d recovered, she grabbed Theodore’s arm and dragged him toward the door, beaming radiantly at Red. “We haven’t seen you in an age-”
“Well, I’ll tell you now, I just never expected an invite to dinner this night. Always thought the world of you two kids, always did. Miss my own; they’re strung out all over the country these days…”
Ah, yes. Inside the door, she took Theodore’s suit coat and Red’s faded denim jacket. Both men suddenly looked equally ill at ease, glancing around. Bett had only a moment to glare furiously at Zach before she took their arms and led her little lambs in toward the slaughter. “Mom?” she called out brightly.
Elizabeth peered out of the kitchen, her jaw dropping only slightly at the Mutt-and-Jeff duo. Her hostess’s smile instantly replaced a look of pure shock. She marched forward when her hand stretched out, a pink flush of shyness on her cheeks matching the ruffled powder-pink shirtwaist with its bright green sash. “I’m so glad to meet Bett and Zach’s friends. You’re…Theodore.” She had no trouble choosing the right hand to shake. “And you must be Red.” Her hand was pumped a mile a minute. Elizabeth glanced bewilderedly at her daughter. “Dinner will be ready in just about ten minutes, if that’s all right with everyone?”
“I’ll get drinks.” Bett noted that Zach seemed to be finding his open-throated shirt tight at the neck. Very strange. Red wanted a beer, from the can was fine; Mr. Hines preferred a light cream sherry.
The Monroe household stocked neither. Zach managed to come up with the last of the previous year’s honey wine while Bett discussed the forecast and seated their guests in the living room. Elizabeth had defected to the kitchen. After five minutes, Bett excused herself-just for one short minute-to powder her nose.
The downstairs bathroom was already occupied. Zach had his hands on his hips, a disgusted expression on his face, as he pushed the door closed with his foot. “You could at least have called home and
“Exactly like you called me?”
“Bett, it just sort of happened…”
“So did Mr. Hines just sort of happen,” Bett said glumly. She leaned back against one wall; Zach leaned against the other. “But of all people.
Bett looked up at the ceiling. “He gives Mom one of those bear hugs and she’ll take off for the closet.”
“You think your choice is better? Hines might work up to a kiss after a five-year engagement.”
“He’s a very nice man,” Bett said huffily.
“He’s as boring as limp lettuce.”
A gentle knock interrupted them. Bett swiftly opened the door. Elizabeth blinked, startled to find the two of them in the bathroom together. “I was just coming to help you with dinner,” Bett announced brightly.
Dinner just didn’t go as anticipated. Theodore sliced his lamb into tiny pieces. Red wolfed his down. Elizabeth sat at one end of the table and steadily kept serving food that just as steadily kept disappearing. The two bachelors had clearly never eaten in their lives before. Theodore, in spite of all his priceless manners, was silently working on his third helping. Bett stared helplessly at Zach. No one was talking. What was this? Everyone was just… eating.
She pinched Zach’s thigh beneath the table. His fork clattered to his plate. “How’s business going, Red?”
“Jes’ fine, jes’ fine. More of them peas, please, Miss Elizabeth…”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth smiled.
They listened for a minute and a half to a discourse on the price of chicken feed before the conversation died again. Bett let her fingers wander up Zach’s thigh beneath the table. Half a dozen peas jumped from his fork back to the plate. “Extra busy at the library, Mr.-Theodore?”
The librarian looked up. “There’s been a rush on Chaucer,” he announced happily. “Three English classes at the high school got it assigned at the same time. I had to limit them to a seven-day checkout schedule-”
Chaucer didn’t go over very well. Bett seemed to be the only one listening as Elizabeth served sponge cake. As she swallowed her second bite, politely looking at Theodore Hines, Bett was terrified that she was going to yawn. Her left hand strayed to Zach’s lap again.
“More cake, Zach?” Elizabeth asked. “Anyone else?”
No-thank-yous chorused around the table.
“Well, I’ll just do the dishes, then,” Elizabeth announced.
Bett jumped up. “I’ll do them. Zach will keep me company. Would you serve coffee to Red and Theodore in the living room, Mom?”
The exodus didn’t take long. Bett stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink, casting a critical eye at Zach, who was still sitting by his lonesome at the kitchen table. There was definitely a wicked hint of sapphire in his eyes. “Have you taken a look at your left hand recently?” he asked.
“No. Why?” She lifted up her palm.
