16
Wednesday evening . . .
Riley’s closet looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. The real one headed their way couldn’t do as much damage as what surrounded her. Clothes lay in crumpled piles at her feet, shoe boxes were scattered about, and she sat in the middle of it all.
“I haven’t had a date in ten years,” she said to the shoe she held in her hand. “I don’t know how to act, let alone how to dress. This is crazy.” She picked up a green shirt from the pile, held it in front of her, and then tossed it to the side.
She felt a lump form in her throat. Laine was right. She had never thought she was worth loving. Not after all she had done. All she had screwed up. Even though Josalyn had told her for years that “If Jesus could love you, no one else has any excuse worth giving not to.”
She didn’t necessarily agree with that and hadn’t believed it. She still didn’t believe it. Not really. If Christian—or any man for that matter—truly knew her, he couldn’t love her.
She picked herself up off the floor and tugged at a pair of jeans. At least she had part of her outfit picked out. By the time she left the house, she had picked out a shirt too, which, from where she had begun, was no small feat. The polished cotton, puffed sleeve, wraparound blouse complemented the white stitching in her jeans. A blue stone cross hung from her neck, and her black hair hung in abandoned curls. With the tightness in her chest, it was a good thing something was abandoned tonight, or Riley would make for a very dull girl.
* * *
Mitchell’s voice mail greeted Laine—again. The second time today. She was afraid he was avoiding her. Unlike him, she knew. He didn’t avoid anything. But after their conversation on Saturday, she couldn’t blame him. He had no idea why she was calling and probably was tired of hearing anything she had to say. But he had said, “The next call will have to be made by you.”
She hung up again without leaving a message. She just couldn’t. These things could not be told in a recorded voice mail. If she couldn’t tell him face-to-face, she at least needed to connect with him in person on the phone. Maybe she should just wait until she got home to tell him. She shook her head at the thought. If the man who had called her Saturday still had an ounce of love for her, she knew he’d want to know this now. Plus, she had never been good at waiting. That’s why when she did things, they were usually swift and extreme. She had never been good at doing things in halves. She was a whole kind of girl. She slipped the phone into her purse and headed out the door to meet Tamyra and Winnie for dinner. She thought briefly about Riley and her date. She looked at her watch. He would have picked her up by now. It had been a long day for Riley. Shoot, it had been a long week for Riley and it was only Wednesday. She had tortured the poor soul the entire first part of it.
Laine slipped out the door, glanced to the ceiling. “Give her a good one, please. She really deserves it.”
* * *
Tamyra fidgeted in the foyer of the suites. “You okay, ma’am?” Gerard asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine, fine.”
He nodded, though she could tell he wasn’t convinced.
She stuck her fake nail in her mouth and chewed, making a mental note that when she gave her crown away, everything fake about her was coming off. She dropped her hands when Laine rounded the corner.
“Hi,” Laine said.
“Hey, have you heard from Riley?”
Laine smirked.
“She’s going on a date?”
“Gave her no choice.”
Tamyra smiled. “You’re evil.”
“I’m persistent.”
Tamyra nudged her. “I’m evil too,” she said, throwing her hands up to her mouth and giggling.
Laine’s brow furrowed. “Oh, my word, what have you done?”
“I have a dinner companion for Winnie waiting at the restaurant, and it’s not me and it’s not you.” She pointed at them both as she spoke.
“She will kill you.”
“She’ll be in public. She’s a principal. She won’t make a scene.”
“She’s Winnie. She always makes a scene.”
Tamyra cleared her throat when she caught sight of Winnie rounding the corner from the elevators. Her outfit illuminated the hallway.
“Well, hello to my lovely dinner dates this evening. I hear steak is on the menu tonight.” Winnie laughed as they headed out into the night air to walk over to the Royal Towers.
“You’re on the menu,” Laine whispered.
Tamyra nudged her.
Laine got in her ear. “Did you ask Albert if he likes Porter Wagoner?”
Tamyra’s eyes bulged out at her.
“Well, I know you Southerners and the Grand Ole Opry. You might have wanted to make sure he was into all of that.”
“Where’s Riley?” Winnie asked.
“She’s got a date,” Tamyra blurted out spastically. She had to get control of her nerves.
“Good for her. I’m glad she decided to do that. She needs to get out like that. She’s young and beautiful. And . . . well, that’s just wonderful.”
“I think dating is good for people who aren’t married,” Laine chided.
Winnie turned toward her. “Not everyone has the need to date, Laine.”
Tamyra caught her message loud and clear, and beads of sweat formed at the top of her lip. She exhaled deeply when they walked through the doors of the steak house. Deep wood paneling and beams created an immediate coziness in the atmosphere. Her eyes darted around the room until they caught sight of Albert’s white head of hair. Laine gave her name to the hostess, and the three of them followed her across the gold, cream, and gray modern-designed carpet, straight toward his table. A gasp came
