“I can mat and frame. And isn’t your billing computerized? Seems to me you could freelance again at sports events if you wanted to.” She didn’t ask what he did with his evenings now, but she wondered. Her own were hard to fill. Even before the separation, Dane had rarely been home. More often than not he was off with his friends. Back then, she’d kept busy at the microbrewery. Now she was too often at loose ends.
“I’ve been out of the loop too long,” Wyatt said. “Being successful in that circuit means knowing players, managers and newspaper editors. I haven’t attended a college game in, well, probably three or four years.”
“You’re playing ball yourself, aren’t you?”
Wyatt straightened away from the pole. “Where did you hear that?”
Noticing how affronted he sounded, Casey wasn’t about to get Brenda in trouble. “I, uh, didn’t you and Mike Granville just discuss it a minute ago?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s nothing, really. An amateur league made up of guys under thirty-five. I skipped the kickoff party, but I’ll make the games. Most of the guys on our team have been friends a long time. The wives were, too. Even though Angela didn’t come to a lot of the events, I felt funny going back.”
“They didn’t welcome you by yourself?”
“Yeah, they did…” Wyatt bent his head and rubbed his neck.
“Well, then, I guess I don’t see the problem. But it’s none of my business, anyway. Hey, I see Letty and Joe are ready for the next photo. That’s the great-granddaughter I mentioned. Isn’t she a cutie? Excuse me.”
Wyatt was slow to react. He supposed someone like Casey, who still had her spouse, couldn’t understand how he felt. It was more than being alone in a crowd of couples. He’d first felt it at Angela’s funeral. Amid the mourning, Wyatt sensed an uneasiness, a pulling away by all except Greg, Brenda, Tom and Gracie. His loss caused all the friends to face their mortality. He knew he had to give them time to adjust, but he still felt hurt and isolated. He didn’t want to be the elephant in the room—a reminder of how quickly life could be snuffed out. Neither did he want them pitying him, trying to fix him up with their single friends. And they would.
He should give Casey a hand instead of standing here lost in his memories.
Casey, though, had everything under control. She didn’t need his help. He liked watching how she went about laughing, joking, trying to entice the little girl to smile. Casey hardly looked older than a child herself. The summer humidity and an evening breeze had turned her short blond hair into a halo of soft, cottony corkscrews around her animated face.
Wyatt smiled at her horseplay. She let the camera hang loose around her neck for a few seconds, while she made horns with her fingers on her head. Twice she lunged forward, lightly tickling the child held in her dad’s arms. The little one laughed out loud. Like lightning, Casey raised her camera and clicked away, catching the child’s glee in her viewfinder.
That would produce some great pictures, Wyatt knew. The type Angela had been known for. And yet the women had totally different styles. Angela hadn’t been touchy-feely. She knew how to pose a subject, but expected the parents to make their child smile. In the studio they kept a box of toys. Wyatt had only ever seen Angela pass a toy to the mom, then step behind the tripod.
He guessed he hadn’t even noticed how stiff Angela had been when it came to dealing with little kids. If not for watching Casey, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
“Wyatt. Hey, sobersides.” Casey bounded up, catapulting him out of his reverie.
And he was glad for the interruption, the chance to think about something else. Angela had loved him. He needed to believe she’d wanted their child. Her death had been caused by a tragic medical anomaly. It had nothing to do with how hard she’d driven herself to achieve greater success.
“What’s up?” Wyatt asked Casey. Night had crept in, and a huge full moon had risen. Casey’s short curls looked even softer than before.
“Can you smell the buffet?” she asked. “Letty says we should eat while we can. We have forty-five minutes or so to kill until we can take shots of the band and the dancing.”
“I’m for eating. But then I always like a meal I don’t have to cook.”
“Do you? Cook?”
“Yeah. I’m not gourmet, but I manage to get a whole meal on the table without burning it. Angela had a lot of evening weddings. She’d phone when she was leaving the reception and I’d have dinner ready when she got home. She took care of breakfast and lunch.”
“That’s a nice arrangement.”
“Doesn’t your husband cook at all?”
Casey hesitated before saying, “Never. Uh, maybe I should dash back to the studio and upload this first chip. If these aren’t great, we’ll still have time to circulate and do retakes. I can eat when I get home,”
“Relax. It’ll be close to midnight when you get to Round Rock. The food is free. Why not drive on a full stomach?”
Casey hesitated because she worried about being queasy in front of Wyatt. But the food smelled delicious, and the odor wasn’t affecting her stomach. “You’ve convinced me. I can come to the studio early tomorrow, and take a look at these pictures before I head to Gracie Swartz’s house at ten.”
“That’ll put you right in the middle of rush-hour traffic. Is Pat in a hurry for the proofs?”
“No. No. They’re not sure yet when the family will get together to choose the shots. Joe Hart joked that the next gathering might be at his funeral.” At once Casey clapped a hand over her mouth. “God, I’m sorry, Wyatt. That was so thoughtless of me. I…sometimes my mouth speaks without checking with my brain.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a year. Really, don’t sweat it. Let’s go fill a plate.”
Casey wished she could dig a hole to hide in for a while. It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell that Wyatt had been observing her all evening. She knew he was comparing her to Angela, and had a horrible feeling she wasn’t measuring up.
She hung back, and let several people move between her and Wyatt in the buffet line. He filled his plate with a dab of everything. She took a square of layered Jell-O salad, a roll and a cup of punch. Juggling everything, including her camera bag, she wandered to the bandstand.
Wyatt headed toward a row of chairs, but Casey didn’t join him. She didn’t feel like making conversation after having to live up to the sainted Angela.
The guitar player tipped his cowboy hat, strummed a riff and smiled at her.
She smiled back and set her cup of punch on the bandstand. With one eye on Wyatt, who was looking around for her in confusion, she made small talk with the guitarist. “I’m one of the photographers for this event. I need to get some shots of Mr. and Mrs. Hart’s dance. Will my flash disturb you at all?”
The musician moved closer to her on the stage. “No problemo, pretty lady.”
Casey suppressed a grimace at his flirtatious tone. “Could you guys play a few bars of the anniversary waltz so I’ll recognize it?”
The man picked up his guitar again and knocked out enough of the tune for Casey to nod.
“How about I ask the drummer to give you a drumroll before we start?” the guitarist said with a wink.
“That would be great.” She picked up her drink and turned away to go dump her leftovers in the nearest trash can. She bumped smack into Wyatt.
He lifted his plate above her head to avoid dropping it.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said.
“I know. I saved you a seat. When you didn’t show up, I came looking for you.” He took a last bite of a corn tamale, then tossed his plate in the trash can, too. His napkin followed after he wiped his fingers. “I heard that guy trying to hit on you. Why didn’t you just tell him you’re married?”
“He wasn’t serious.”
“I think he was.”
“Get real. He’s all of what? Eighteen? Twenty? Far too young for me.”
“What difference does that make? He thinks you�
��re hot.”
“Stop. I’m nothing of the sort.” Casey stopped so quickly, Wyatt steadied her with a hand on her waist. She felt sure her face was on fire as she quickly disengaged herself.
“Obviously, you don’t see yourself as guys see you. Tonight, in that outfit, well—I already complimented you on it. And…I was watching that guitar player. He was dying to touch your hair to see if it’s as soft as it looks.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t get that at all. Uh, there goes the first song. We’d better move or we’ll get mowed down.” Casey adjusted the settings on her camera to account for night shadows. To calm her nerves, she began snapping pictures.
Wyatt moved to the other side of the stage, where he had a clear view of both the horndog musician and Casey. She was too trusting. Did she really not know how attractive she was? For kicks, Wyatt took her picture as she worked. He’d print them and show her exactly what men saw in her. Or not. That would be imprudent.
Six songs into the set, the stage lights dimmed. After a drumroll, Joe and Letty swung out on the floor. Casey and Wyatt both focused on taking pictures until the anniversary waltz ended.
“That’s it. I’m done,” Casey announced to Wyatt. She started packing her equipment. “If you see the Granvilles, thank them for giving us the job, won’t you?”
“After I walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He took her elbow and escorted her along the walkway. Casey felt the warm pressure of his hand on her arm. Did he know he was making her tingle?
They reached her car, and it took only a few seconds to notice that her left front tire was flat.
“Oh, no!” Casey kicked the offending tire. Then she closed her eyes and banged a fist on the hood.
“Hand me your keys. I’ll get your spare.”
Casey wasn’t as surprised as Wyatt to see that the spare, when he muscled it out of the trunk, was also flat.
“Do you have Triple A?” he asked, dusting off his hands before he dug out his cell phone.
“No,” she said, sagging against the vehicle, her mind racing.
“I could run you home,” Wyatt said, “but it probably makes more sense to have your husband pick you up. Do you guys have a second car? If his spare fits your car, I’ll help put it on. You can get yours fixed or replaced in the morning.”
“My husband took a hike.” Casey said wearily.
“He’s still gone? That must be some hike.”
“Dane is off climbing mountains in Africa with his college friends. And he’s not coming back. At least not to me.” She shoved off the car and walked a few steps away. Crossing her arms, she turned to face Wyatt. “I lied to you. My divorce was final last week.”
Wyatt, who’d been about to call his own auto club, almost dropped his cell phone.
“It’s true,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Good old Dane cleaned out our savings and took off with his friends to Tanzania or God knows where. At our interview, you assumed I was married. I wanted…no, I really needed the job. It’s splitting hairs, but my divorce wasn’t final then. And I didn’t think it was relevant, so I never corrected you.” Casey rummaged in her bag and ripped out the chip from her camera. She shoved it into Wyatt’s hand. “Go ahead. Fire me. You know I can’t do the job without transportation. Today it’s this tire, tomorrow maybe another will blow. They’re all bald.” She ran her hands through her hair. The air around them practically quivered, she was so upset.
Wyatt stood there, silently gaping at her, but Casey didn’t care. She was tired of having to keep up the pretense about Dane. One secret was quite enough for anyone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“SON OF A…!”
Casey flinched. Wyatt had a right to be angry, but it changed nothing. She still had no idea what to do or how to get home. Just today she’d taken all the money she’d saved so far and paid the first installment of her anticipated hospital bill. In retrospect, she should’ve used it for a more immediate need, like new tires.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said. “This is my problem.”
“No,” Wyatt said, holding up his hands. “It’s nine-fifteen at night and this isn’t exactly the auto service Mecca of Austin. We need a tow truck ASAP.” Opening his phone, he stepped beneath a streetlight that made Casey’s pale face seem even more washed out, and placed a call. Hooking a thumb in his belt, he paced while he waited for someone to answer.
To Casey, even as upset as she was, Wyatt seemed more concerned than angry. She had no idea who he was calling. All she could see were dollar signs.
Wyatt quit pacing and circled her car. He stopped to inspect each of her three remaining tires. “These things are beyond threadbare.”
“Look, if you’ll give me a lift to the highway, I’ll hitch a ride to Round Rock with a trucker. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out what to do with my car.” She didn’t know what, but it beat having the both of them standing on a street corner.
“No way am I letting you hitchhike!” Wyatt straightened, then snapped, “Hello, hello,” into his phone.
He launched into a conversation Casey could only describe as typical male car-speak about tire size and rim size. Whoever he was talking to obviously had a solution Wyatt liked. He signed off by saying, “Thanks, Roy. See you soon.”
“Who was that?” Casey asked. “Listen, this isn’t easy for me to admit, but…I got behind on my bills. I can’t afford a tow, let alone a tire. I’m broke.”
“I left my car on a side street a few blocks away,” Wyatt said, ignoring her. “I’ll go get it. You stay here in case the tow truck Roy calls comes before I get back. Wait in your car and lock the doors. Here’s my auto club card that authorizes a tow. Again, if I’m not back, you go with him. I’ll meet you there.”
“Where’s there? I know I should just thank you, but you’re not listening, Wyatt. Believe it or not, tires are on my list of things I need to take care of. But I can’t afford them. As embarrassing as this is to admit, I have exactly ten dollars and seventy-nine cents in my bank account. I don’t have a credit card. Dane removed my name from our joint card and I haven’t been able to get my own yet.”
“We’ll work it out, Casey,” Wyatt said quietly. “You have money coming from last week’s jobs and more from tonight.”
She started to say she was already budgeted down to the last penny, but the stormy expression in his eyes stopped her.
“If you want to waste time arguing with me, fine. I’ll go first and ask whatever possessed you to get on the highway in that death trap?”
Her fingers curled around the straps of her purse and camera bag. “Maybe I haven’t made the best decisions. I gambled on the tires holding out until I caught up on some other bills. I lost. But I’m not a charity case, Wyatt. I do…have options.”
“I’m guessing they aren’t ones you want to consider.”
She opened her car door, threw her bags inside and sank onto the driver’s seat, leaving her feet planted outside. With a defiant tilt to her chin, she said, “I can phone my foster parents. They’d drive to Round Rock and take me straight back to Dallas in a heartbeat.”
“So why didn’t you do that when whatsizname left?”
She leaned forward and clasped her hands, focusing on the pavement instead of Wyatt. “Len and Dolly took me in about the time they should’ve been retiring. They have plans in the works now. I’m not going to mess it up for them. Besides,” she added, looking more glum, “if I went back to Dallas, I’d have to face my friends, and try to explain why Dane walked out.”
Wyatt gazed down at Casey’s head. She acted tough, but was achingly vulnerable. And if anyone understood that feeling, he did. “Let me put the new tires on my credit card. I’ll have Greg deduct the cost from your earnings a little at a time.”
Casey sat up, looking hopeful but unconvinced. “How little? For how long?” Wyatt was being so nice about this, she knew she couldn’t keep working for him once her pregnancy started to show. It wou
ld underscore his loss, as Brenda said often enough. Hurt him, when he’d shown Casey nothing but consideration. Sitting here, she couldn’t help but wish that she’d met Wyatt before she’d fallen in love with Dane.
“I phoned a friend’s brother. He owns a repair shop,” Wyatt said. “I know he’ll give us a fair price.” He saw Casey’s shoulders relax. He also saw relief and something he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge creep into her wide hazel eyes. Gratitude. But also something more.
Surely she wasn’t mistaking his offer as something…personal. That wasn’t an option. Yes, she was attractive, but he wasn’t ready to move into that area. Anyway, it was difficult to think of her as divorced, not married. For both their sakes, he needed to squelch those ideas. “You and my wife, Angela, had more in common than photography. She grew up in an orphaned kids’ group home and was always passed over for adoption. You were lucky your foster family had a studio and taught you the trade. When I met Angela, she was working three part-time jobs in order to pay for college. You’re a gifted photographer, too, Casey. If advancing your earnings means you stay with the studio, it makes good business sense. I’d lose valuable time if I had to run another ad and find someone new.”
Just as Wyatt intended, the light faded from Casey’s eyes. He hoped he hadn’t been too blunt. She’d already been hurt by her jerk of a husband. He hated to hurt her again. On the other hand, he’d done this as much for his sake as hers. Too many times this evening, he’d focused on Casey when he should’ve been thinking about the job at hand.
“Wyatt, I—”
Impatient to escape an emotional thank-you, Wyatt jingled the loose change in his pockets and briskly turned away.
“The tow truck should be here soon,” he called as he headed up the street. “You’re going to Roy Mitchell’s garage on Cameron Road. Roy is Jana Mitchell’s brother-in-law. He does all my auto work.” Wyatt almost asked Casey if she’d be all right staying alone, but he stopped himself in time. Anyway, it was a damn stupid question to ask a woman who’d been ready to hitchhike home.
The Baby Album Page 10