I sat down at the table, impressed with her eavesdropping skills, and aware I must have just missed Greg on my little jaunt to Valerie's estate.
'I went out to Valerie's earlier for a little look-see,' I confessed.
'Damn lucky you didn't run into Greg.'
'I didn't know he was living there. Otherwise I wouldn't have gone.'
'Find anything?'
'No, nothing. Valerie was not expecting any horses to arrive. But then I kind of found out why when I talked to Detective Thurman.'
'She was already dead when Blackie was taken, I expect.'
'Yeah. How did you know?'
'Didn't. Guessed. Nothing else makes sense. So, what did Thurman want?' Delores pulled out a chair and sat.
I told her about the false bill of sale, and about the witness who claimed to have seen me near Valerie's at the time of her death. And how Thurman was on the edge of arresting me.
'What about your attorney? What did he say? Is he worried?'
'He said if they thought they had a case I wouldn't have been allowed to walk out the door.'
'That makes sense.' He jaw worked for a moment while her eyebrows met in a knot above her nose.
'I'm still worried, though,' I said, hoping to prompt her into voicing her thoughts.
Delores straightened in her chair and patted my hand. The lines across her forehead relaxed. 'I think it will work out fine. You've got a good attorney and a lot of friends to stand by you. You're not alone, you know.'
'I'll be a little more alone after this evening,' I said. She raised her eyebrows, questioning. 'I'm meeting Jonathan for dinner at Bernard's, and I'm going to call it off.'
'Good. You'll feel better. I understand you had a little excitement last night.' She slid a casual look at me.
I groaned and covered my face with my hands. Who hadn't heard? I looked at her through my finger.
She smiled. 'You look lower than a cross-rail for a pony. What'd my dumb-ass nephew do this time?'
'Jeez,' I said, mortified. 'It was my fault.'
'You don't scream at people, normally. At least I've never seen it, and Valerie always tried her best to provoke you. What happened?' Her tone was matter of fact, but amusement touched the set of her mouth.
'We had a drink at The River's Bend, then went for a walk.' How was I going to explain this to his aunt? 'Jonathan was in town – I didn't expect him – and he saw Paul kiss me. He confronted us and we all yelled at each other. I walked home.' That was it in fifty words or less.
'That dumb-ass,' she repeated, but the smile was gone. 'I told him he'd better leave you alone until you had your life sorted out, but does he listen? No. What does his old, uneducated aunt know? A sight more than a cocky thirty-five-year-old, over-educated bonehead with no self-control.' She got up, poured herself another glass of juice, and sat again. 'No wonder his last girlfriend kicked him out – not that she was any prize. There are times that boy doesn't have two working brain cells to rub together. I ought to kick his butt from here to next Tuesday.'
'It wasn't entirely his fault,' I protested.
'Don't be stupid, girl, of course it was.'
'I -'
'And don't you start defending him, either.' She gave me a severe scowl.
I gulped. 'Aunt Vi said he didn't come home last night.'
'Oh, don't worry about him. He probably spent the night in his office. He always does that when he sulks and feels sorry for himself.' Delores gave a dismissive flip of her hand.
I was going to ask if he did that often, but instead I said, 'Oh.'
She rose from her chair when she'd emptied her glass. 'Look, Thea. Don't lose a minute of sleep over Paul. You young people spend way too much time making mountains out of molehills. You've got other fish to fry right now, so I'd best go, and leave you to it.' She was lapsing into cliches. The funeral must have been an ordeal. 'Take care of what you can and stop worrying.' She walked to the living room, slung her jacket over her arm, took a couple of steps, and doubled back to pick up her purse. 'Promise me that, child.' She gave me a stern look. 'Promise me you won't worry.'
'I promise.' I wanted to hug her, but I knew she wouldn't tolerate it.
'Good. I'll see you tomorrow when you come by for the receipts. By the way, what's Joey doing sitting out there in front of your house?'
'I don't know.' But I wished he'd go away – and how did she know Joey?
'Humph. I heard he fancied himself Valerie's boyfriend. Before he went to prison, anyway.'
Oh, great. 'Really?' I said.
'Well, that's neither here nor there. Don't worry. Everything'll work out.'
She left, hurrying down the walk to her car.
No, I thought, don't
I took care dressing for dinner because Jonathan would better understand the finality of my decision if it came from my gender-neutral, slacks and jacket, 'business woman' persona. I wanted a clean break. Well, as clean as possible at this point. That would mean keeping a lid on my temper, too. I knew Jonathan well enough to realize if I got testy with him he would take it as a sign I was indecisive and drag out our break-up forever. Besides, being rude wouldn't make me feel stronger. I made mistakes, including staying with him because it was easier than breaking up. And, I'd let Paul sweep me off my feet when I was vulnerable. 'Vulnerable' was the polite term for 'needy' and 'sex-starved.' It was past time to take control and set my own course. Past time to jettison the distractions. Past time to take care of myself.
I arrived at Bernard's at precisely seven o'clock. I love this restaurant. The food is predictably excellent and the decor appealing. The walls are rough brick and mortar, and the tables and chairs, although plain dark wood, glow with polish. On every table, fresh flowers in tall vases sit amid sparkling glassware. Antique schoolhouse lights hang from the ceiling, giving off a gentle glow.
At the back of the dining room is a magnificent bar. The huge antique had been barged down from Alaska in several pieces when the Gold Rush era saloon it had occupied was destroyed in the big 1964 earthquake. William and Connie, the owners of Bernard's, had lovingly restored it and could be encouraged, without much prodding, to tell the entire tale of this thirty-foot-long piece of history. This was my turf. I squared my shoulders and walked in.
Jonathan sat at a table near the front of the restaurant, waiting. He stood when I approached and held the chair out for me. Our greeting was awkward, and though I tried to catch his eye, he avoided mine. He must have come directly from his office because he wore his dark blue pin-striped Armani suit, blue striped tie, and a crisp white shirt. Gold cuff links flashed when he took the menu from William, who gave me a slight smile and a nod of greeting.
Jonathan glanced at the menu in silence. I did the same although I already knew what I was going to order. I put my menu down after a moment and looked out the window. Jonathan ordered the salmon for us both. He was right about my choice, and a small stab of anguish pricked me. I'd been unfair in thinking he didn't notice my preferences. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe I was trying to push too much blame onto him.
'Jonathan, I want to apologize -'
'I suppose I should -'
We spoke simultaneously and stopped. Apprehensive, I waited for him to continue.
'You first.' He smiled stiffly.
'I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean or plan for anything to happen between me and Paul, and I don't believe he did either. It was a mistake, made worse by your witnessing it.'
'Then you're not…?'
'No.'
His expression seemed, right away, less acrimonious. 'I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Saturday evening. My mother was right. I should not have sprung my proposal on you like I did. I hope you'll forgive me.'
'Of course.' I smiled, feeling relieved. The tension evaporated. I could talk to him. He would listen and not overreact.
Connie brought our salads and gave me a small wink. She was one of Aunt Vi's weekly bunco card group. No
