the truth.
She should probably tell him now. Just blurt out the words. Except she didn’t want to spoil a potentially lovely evening. She’d been so alone for so long. Was it terribly wrong to want to enjoy Del’s company for a little while before she had to ruin everything between them?
She didn’t have an answer, or if she did, she didn’t want to think about it. So for now…for today at least…she would continue to keep her secret just a little longer.
“Do you like it?” he asked, pointing to her plate and the beer. “I thought you might be more of a wine woman, but I took a chance.”
“Everything is wonderful.” She nibbled on a shrimp and swallowed.
As she savored the delicate flavors she suddenly realized that the dishes he’d chosen had all been his favorites. Some of her humor faded as she remembered the times they’d argued about what to order. As she studied the open cartons she realized that she liked these items, too. There were a few other dishes that she would enjoy as much, but it wasn’t as if she’d hated Del’s favorites. But even in picking Chinese food, she’d insisted on being right. She hadn’t been willing to take turns or have them each pick an entree. Why had she been so difficult all the time?
“Do you eat here often?” she asked, pointing at the name on the bag.
He grinned. “About twice a week. I’m not much of a cook.” He shrugged. “Now that I’m on my own, I wish I’d learned, but my mom never taught me.”
“You could teach yourself.”
“What? And be a responsible person? Naw. Takeout is better.”
Humor glinted in his eyes. She took in the slightly damp hair and the clean line of his jaw. He’d obviously showered and shaved before dropping by with dinner. Josie told herself not to read too much into his actions. Maybe he was just being nice. But in her heart she wanted it to be more than that. She wanted Del to be attracted to her, while at the same time she feared his interest. Not only because of the lie she was living, but because she was so different from what she’d been before.
“I’m surprised your mother would send you out in the world so unprepared,” she said.
“I guess she thought there would always be a woman around to take care of me. Plus I’m an only child. I was spoiled.”
“Really?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“You’re shocked that she would cater to me? A lot of moms do-especially if they only have one child.”
“No. I’m surprised you’d admit it.”
It was something she’d accused him of dozens of times when they’d been married. She told him that Catherine’s catering to his needs had made it difficult for anyone else not to fall short of his expectations. At the time he’d told her she was paranoid.
He drank from his beer bottle. “My mom is one of those women who believe that taking care of her family is the most important thing in her life. She helped at the business, took care of the house, catered to my dad and me. If there was a burned piece of something or a smaller serving, she claimed it for herself. If there was a draft, she sat in it.”
“She sounds like a saint,” Josie said, careful to keep her voice neutral. Saint Catherine, she thought grimly. How many times had her mother-in-law’s actions been thrown in her face? Although she’d liked Del’s mother, she’d never come close to measuring up, and eventually she’d stopped trying. Her greatest goal had never been to be a servant in her own home.
“She was old-fashioned,” Del admitted. “But she’s changed.”
Josie scooped some sweet and sour pork onto her plate. “What do you mean?”
“About two years ago my mom went on strike. She said she was tired of catering to my dad, of working part- time at the business and full-time at home. He got weekends off but she was expected to still cook and clean and take care of him. Who was taking care of her?”
“Your mother said that?” Josie blurted out before she could stop herself. Saint Catherine had lost control?
“Absolutely. She and my dad fought about it for weeks. They nearly split up. She said she wanted a fifty-fifty relationship, and he wasn’t willing to give up his personal maid. At least that’s how she described it. My dad’s version was a little different.”
Josie blinked in surprise. She remembered all the times she and Catherine had talked about Del. His mother had always taken his side, telling Josie that she had to be the one to bend, the one to make Del feel special. Josie had wanted to know when her new husband was going to make
“What happened? Are they still together?”
“Oh, yeah. Dad couldn’t live without her. She moved out for about forty-eight hours. She went to San Francisco and spent a couple of days at a luxury hotel. Apparently she had the time of her life. Some business guy even tried to pick up on her in the hotel restaurant. My dad fell apart. He begged her to come home and swore everything would be different.”
“Is it?”
“Sure is. She told him she wanted him to retire and for them to spend more time together. They decided to buy a motor home, and now they spend most of the year driving across the country. They’re having a great time, and my dad has learned to cook.”
Who would have thought? She wanted to ask more questions about Catherine’s transformation but didn’t know how without giving herself away.
“So they left you in charge of the business,” she said instead. “Do you like that?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big surprise. I’d been taking over more and more of the responsibility over the past few years. Business has been booming. Despite being out of the way, Beachside Bay is growing. We’ve had more work than we can handle, even with bringing on more employees.”
He leaned forward and got another helping of food. “Enough about me,” he said. “Where did you live before you came to Beachside Bay?”
Josie hesitated. She didn’t know how much Del knew about his ex-wife’s life. Not that he seemed to be linking Rose with Josie.
“I lived in Los Angeles. I was a teacher-at least until a year ago.”
He set down his plate. “That’s when you had the accident, right?”
She nodded. “That changed everything.”
“Do you mind talking about it? I would like to know what happened, but not if it will bother you.”
She didn’t mind sharing the details of what had happened, but she was a little nervous about giving him too many clues to her real identity. She finished her last mouthful of food and put her plate on the table in front of them.
“I was driving home for lunch when a truck ran the red light and hit me broadside. The brakes had failed so it was going pretty fast when it slammed into me.”
He shifted so that he was angled toward her. “That sounds ugly.”
“I don’t remember much, which is a good thing. Most of the damage was on my left side. My left leg was really battered, as was my face.” She wished the big, empty room wasn’t quite so bright.
“So you’ve had a lot of surgeries.”
He wasn’t asking a question but she nodded, anyway. “Dozens. For the first six months I was dealing with facial reconstruction along with my leg. I don’t look the same.”
He pushed away the table, his half-eaten plate of food apparently forgotten. Then he leaned toward her and gently touched her cheek. The tender gesture surprised her, especially when her first instinct was to lean into the contact.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“My face doesn’t. There are a few tender spots, but except for a little swelling, I’m about as healed as I’m going to get there.”
He studied her as if seeing her for the first time. He traced her eyebrows, then the length of her nose.
“What’s different?” he asked.
They were treading on dangerous territory but she didn’t know how to avoid the question. “My cheeks are a little higher and my chin is more round. The bones were completely shattered. The replacement shapes are a special plastic. Like an action figure.”
