Love Me If You Must

21

Apprehension slithered down my spine. I shook it off.

How foolish. I was acting like a daffy heroine in one of my gothic novels. Suspect everybody. Trust no one.

Worse, in my case, no crime had even been committed. I was letting a brief flash of superstition, premonition, imagination, or whatever it had been, get to me.

Yet, something about David hit me at the gut level. Maybe his Ice Queen comment blinked like a beacon, warning me how quickly his love could turn to hate. Whatever the case, I wasn’t quite ready to go full speed ahead with David in the romance department.

Gut feelings may not be rational, logical, or scientific. But they were still gut feelings. And mine had taken good care of me so far.

Hadn’t I known right up front that Officer Brad Walters couldn’t be trusted? And tonight I’d been proved right. Brad had seduced David’s wife right out from under him. Shame on Brad. I didn’t care how nice his tomatoes were, how broad his shoulders, how soft his eyes . . . None of that mattered. My gut had been right.

David locked his gaze on me. I pushed away from the table. “Excuse me, I need to find the ladies’ room.”

“It’s upstairs,” David said.

I picked my way through the other diners and fled toward an empty lobby.

I found the steps in an alcove, hidden from the dining room. I paused at the bottom, daunted by the thought of using a restroom separated from the rest of humanity by one entire floor.

Behind me, laughter filtered through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

I took a deep breath and ran up the stairs. The effort sent jolts of invigorating pain up my bad leg. Each step creaked and shook as I landed.

I made it to the bathroom, nothing more than a remodeled nook with two stalls. Thankfully there were no ladies present to hear my wheezing as I leaned against striped wallpaper to catch my breath.

I took my time, not sure why I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to David.

A few minutes later, I washed up and turned to go. I reached for the door handle.

The knob wrenched out of my grasp as the door flung open.

I squealed and leaped back against the wall.

“Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was another diner, one of the ladies from the clothing store. She stood in the doorway and looked at me. “That outfit looks lovely on you. Just lovely.”

She disappeared into a stall.

I hovered inside the restroom, examining the details of a Monet print. I walked to the sink and checked my makeup. A moment later, the Clothing Junction cashier joined me at the basin. I scooted over to make room.

I caught her eyes in the reflection. “I’m really enjoying this outfit,” I said, “although it is a little out of my usual price range.” I gave an exaggerated swallow.

“Our clothing is an attitude, really.” She smoothed her eyebrows in the mirror. “How much does a person feel she is worth? Twenty dollars or two hundred dollars? Your twin, Sandra Jones, knew she was worth every dollar she invested in herself. Her good taste was undeniable, at least where clothing was concerned.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“It’s no secret she has terrible taste in men.”

I nodded in agreement.

She rubbed her hands vigorously under the water. “Martin Dietz is a cutthroat. Nice women shouldn’t get involved with men like him,” she said.

The woman grabbed paper toweling from the dispenser and continued. “Sandra had everything going for her. She could have picked anybody to be her suitor. But once Martin Dietz made up his mind that Sandra was what he wanted, the poor dear didn’t have a chance. Anyone could tell she’d never get out of that relationship easily.”

I pictured the scene between Martin Dietz and Tammy Johnson at the Beauty Boutique. I cringed, hoping Tammy could withstand Dietz’s brash advances.

“It’s so sad what Dietz did to Sandra.” I leaned against the wall.

“I only wish she would have stood up for herself better. If someone gives you a public lambasting, you’re at least entitled to a public rebuttal.” She shook her head. “But Sandra didn’t have it in her. It’s best she dropped out of politics. I’m just sorry she let him run her out of town.”

“That is too bad.” I crossed my arms. “What about Rebecca Ramsey? Did she shop at your store often?”

The woman smoothed the front of her expensive fitted jacket. “Rebecca Ramsey made token purchases all over town. She wanted to stay on good terms with everyone.” The sides of her mouth pulled down. “But everyone knows the kind of person she really is.” The woman gave me a knowing look. “The kind of woman that nice men should stay away from.”

I thought of Officer Brad’s attachment to Rebecca, and David’s misfortune in having married her in the first place. How could love be so screwed up that all the right people fell in love with all the wrong ones?

“Anyway,” she said, toweling off her hands, “I see Martin Dietz already has your number. Be sure you don’t cross him.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

My leg throbbed as I picked my way back downstairs.

I’d gone through a lot of trouble to make everything perfect for tonight. New hairstyle, new nails, new slacks and sweater.

And for what?

David held a multitude of possibilities, but was I ready for him? I couldn’t make it through a date without dredging up Basement Lady, Coffee Girl, Officer Brad, and the Ex-Wife.

Not that David didn’t have plenty of his own hang-ups to work on. But that’s what love was all about, wasn’t it? Helping each other through life’s hang-ups?

I paused at the bottom of the steps, reluctant to turn the corner, not sure I wanted to face any of the non-decisions I’d made. I stood and listened to the kitchen sounds. The crew worked well together, joking, cooking, and cleaning. After a moment, I turned the corner and settled at the table.

“Dessert, Tish?” David sounded short of breath. His hair and shoulders had little droplets of water on them.

“You look like you got sprinkled by the veggie wash at the supermarket.” I smiled and scooted my chair in.

“I stepped onto the porch for some air. First snow of the year tonight.” David smoothed his hair and the drops disappeared.

Our waiter wheeled over a tray of gourmet pies and cakes. Normally, the sight of three kinds of cheesecake and several varieties of chocolate layer cake would have me ordering a sample of each. But the stress of the evening had finally caught up. I had no appetite for dessert. All I wanted was to go home, curl up in my cot, and read a creepy romance. My problems always disappeared in light of the screwy lives unfolding on those three hundred or so pages.

“Just coffee for me, please,” I said.

David folded his hands on the table. “I would have pegged you for the dessert type. A secret chocolate lover.”

“I am. Just not tonight.”

“I knew it.” David’s grin was triumphant. “Anybody who would make a big deal out of granola versus Sugar Puffs has to be a closet chocoholic.”

I gave a weary smile, hoping the waiter would hurry with that coffee.

David and I small-talked through one cup each.

The waiter arrived with the bill.

I jumped up and put my coat on.

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” I said.

David watched me scoop up my jacket. His look had me thinking I’d forgotten something. I peeked around for gloves or a purse on the floor, but recalled that I’d brought neither.

A few minutes later, David joined me in the lobby.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

We stepped into a bluster of snowflakes and started down the darkened Independence Alley.

We came out on Main Street and I could see my house just a block away. All the windows were dark. If not for the welcoming beam of the porch light I’d turned on when we left, I wouldn’t have wanted to go home.

A few houses over, David’s glowed with bright, cheery windows.

“Would you like to stop in for a minute?” David asked through the biting wind.

“Can I take a rain check? I think I’ll go take a hot shower and crawl in bed.”

“Perhaps another time, then,” he said.

I paused on the sidewalk leading to my front steps. “Well, thank you for supper. The beef Wellington was superb, as promised.”

David stepped close, looking down at me. His head was covered with fluffy white snowflakes. His three-quarter-length trench nearly touched my jean jacket.

“My privilege,” he said.

“And the flowers.” I stared at his lips. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Anything for you, Tish.” He held my arms and leaned toward me.

Oh, help. I was going to be kissed.