Once they were buckled in, she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. From the look of those bruises, she probably had quite a headache. "Did you get that checked out by a doctor?"
She shook her head, wincing slightly as she did. "It wasn’t necessary. It’s just a little bruise."
"I think you should have it checked. It’s only a few weeks since you got knocked out on Labor Day."
"Like I said, I’m a klutz." She sighed. "But if it will make you feel better, I’ll call the doctor in the morning."
"Good."
They rode in silence, lost in their own thoughts. He’d thought maybe she’d fallen asleep, but suddenly she chuckled.
"It really was just a stupid accident, Dave. I dropped my key, and Etienne picked it up just as I bent down to get it. My head was going down, his was going up, and we collided. That’s all."
It sounded simple enough, but something bothered him; it nagged at the back of his mind. He debated whether to ask his question or just let the subject drop. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
"Where did you drop your keys, Syl?"
"Where? They dropped on the floor."
"No, I meant where were you when you dropped your keys?"
"Oh. Outside my hotel room door."
He nearly swerved into the opposite lane at her words. "What in Sam Hill was that phony Frenchman doing outside your hotel room?"
****
"I swear, Dave, I've never seen anything quite so breathtaking in my life," Sylvia exclaimed as she poured their morning coffee. "The climb to the top of the lighthouse had me panting, but the view was really worth it."
Dave listened with half an ear, but he couldn't have repeated anything she told him. All he could think was how young and radiant she looked even with her swollen eye and bruised cheek. She nearly bubbled over with joy and excitement, just as she had in their younger days whenever she had talked about her dreams and the places she wanted to see. Sylvia was so beautiful. Back then, he would have done anything for her, promised her anything just to see that wonderful smile.
Back then? He frowned. Why did that sound so selfish? What about now?
These days, he was more cautious, more responsible. There were things he could no longer do. He got tired more easily and ran out of energy quicker.
Good grief. He sounded like an old man. Well, he was an old man, nearer to sixty than fifty. He’d never really cared about age before, but suddenly, it seemed like the years had snuck up on him.
He looked over at his wife. Sylvia was older, too. A few lines bracketed her mouth and crinkled around her eyes. But she had the same shiny black hair, the same determination to her step. Age didn’t seem to have affected her. She stayed in great shape. In fact, he thought as she bent to retrieve a pan of biscuits from the oven, she looked better in jeans now than she had back in college.
"Earth to Dave. Earth to Dave. Are you there?"
He blinked. "What?"
"It's almost seven-thirty. Are you going to work today, or did you take the day off?"
"Work. Right. I need to get going. I have a big meeting with Rog this morning. Can’t be late."
"No, of course you can’t."
Was it his imagination or did Sylvia suddenly seem subdued, less bubbly? Was her eye bothering her? She’d assured him it was nothing the night before, but it probably hurt more than she’d wanted to let on. He swallowed down the last of his coffee then gave her a quick peck on her good cheek.
"Don’t forget to get that eye checked," he reminded her as he rushed out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
"Hello, welcome back! We missed you last week." Anne rushed over to greet Sylvia as soon as she arrived at The Stitching Post for the Tuesday night meeting. "We’re all eager to hear—"
The shop clerk suddenly froze, her eyes widening as she spotted the huge bruise discoloring Sylvia’s face, despite her carefully applied make-up. Anne glanced furtively around the shop then took her friend by the arm and drew her aside.
"What happened to your eye?" she whispered.
"This?" Sylvia touched her left cheek and wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Would you believe I knocked heads with another traveler on my bus trip? It was a real mess last week, all black and blue and swollen. That’s why I wasn’t here last Tuesday."
Seeing the younger woman’s concern, she smiled reassuringly. "I’m a lot better this week. Honest."
"Didn’t you just have another bad bruise a few weeks ago?"
Sylvia nodded. "I stopped a softball the hard way at Dave’s company picnic. I seem to be really accident-prone lately."
Anne studied her for a moment then took a deep breath. "I understand about accidents, Sylvia. Believe me, I really understand," she confided. "And I’m here if you ever want to talk to someone. Just call me, okay?"
Puzzled by the intensity of her young friend’s tone, Sylvia frowned. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer, so she merely nodded her head. It seemed sufficient. Anne gave her arm another pat then hurried away to help one of the other quilters. Sylvia watched her for a long moment before shouldering her project bag and going toward the back of the shop to join her friends.
"Whoa! What happened to your eye?" Lila asked in response to Sylvia’s greeting.
"That seems to be a popular question tonight. Anne just asked me the same thing."
"Well, it’s pretty hard to overlook, honey. Even if you did a pretty good job covering it with your foundation."
"Obviously, not well enough."
"So what happened to you?"
"I had a run in — literally — with one of the other travelers on my bus trip. He zigged. I zagged. Et Voila!"
"He?" Tee asked, joining them in time to hear Sylvia’s explanation. She dropped her tote bag on the chair opposite Lila’s and carefully removed her suit jacket.
"Yep. A handsome Canadian businessman from Quebec."
"Ooo la la! Does Dave know?"
"There is nothing to know. Etienne merely stooped down to get the keys I’d dropped at the same time I went for them. Our heads collided."
"Dropped keys? Is that today’s version for the old dropped handkerchief?" Lila asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Oh, stop it you two. Etienne was just a fellow traveler." Sylvia paused as Anne joined the group to see if anyone wanted coffee or tea. "You know, Anne, I should drag you along on my next trip. Etienne is a few years older than you, but he’s ever so sexy with that French accent of his."
"Oh no!" Anne held up her hands as if to ward off the suggestion. "I don’t care how sexy this Etienne person might be. I am definitely not interested."
"Why not?" Lila asked, her interest obviously piqued by the young clerk’s vehemence.
"Maybe Anne already has a hot young boyfriend," Tee suggested.
"I don’t have one, and I don’t want one," the clerk responded then hurried away to get beverages.
"Who has a hot new boyfriend?" Ellen said by way of greeting as she, Sue, and Doris arrived together. "Holy cow, Sylvia! Who’d you get in a fight with?"
"Very funny, Ellie May," Sylvia responded, using the nickname her best friend detested. "You know very well what happened. I told you all about it when we had coffee last week."
"I know, but I love to tease you. Although, I must say, ladies, she looks a lot better today than she did when I saw her."
"One can hope," Sylvia murmured. She took the mug of tea Anne offered her and cupped her hands around it. "Thanks, Anne. This feels so good tonight. I can’t believe how cold it turned."
"It’s supposed to get colder. The guys are hoping there’ll be snow for opening day," Sue told them, referring to Michigan’s deer hunting season that would start mid-month. Her husband Frank and his brothers, all farmers in nearby Walker, looked forward to this time of year when the crops were in and they had a bit more leisure time.
"I never understood the attraction of sitting in the woods outdoors in the winter," Ellen remarked, pul
ling her quilt from her project bag. "I prefer looking at snow through my front window."
As the rest of the group arrived, Sylvia received more good-natured ribbing about her eye. However, everyone soon settled down to work on their various projects. Most of the women were making gift items for the holidays, but a few had baby quilts or other items to sew.
"How’s your quilt coming, Lila?" Sylvia asked as the older woman carefully outlined a colorful snowman with parallel rows of tiny stitches.
"Pretty good. I’ve got most of the snowmen echo quilted," she said, holding up the piece so Sylvia could see the tiny rows of precise stitches outlining the shape of each character. "By the end of the week, I’ll be ready to chalk mark the quilting design and start it. What are you working on tonight? You finished the baby quilt for Lynne’s friend, didn’t you?"
"Almost. It’s taken longer than I expected. I’ve been doing a lot of extra tutoring."
Lila nodded. "Putting aside money for your next trip? Are you going on the one the girls were telling me about?"
"You mean the one to Branson?” Sylvia asked then continued when Lila nodded. “I don’t think so. Deanna called me about it, but seven days is an awfully long time to be gone this time of the year," Sylvia said, carefully basting a small sailboat on a square of bright yellow fabric. "Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away, and I haven’t even begun my Christmas shopping yet."
"I figured this might not be a good time for you, but Marcia heard about your mishap and wanted to make sure it hadn’t soured you on the group."
"Hardly! I can’t blame anyone but myself for what happened." Sylvia chuckled. "What about you? Are you going to make the trip?"
Lila held up the snowman quilt. "Not if I want to get this quilt and Pastor Steve’s gift done in time for Christmas. But it does sound like it would have been fun."
"Why not use the new quilter?" Sylvia suggested, pointing to the area where Myra assisted another member of the group with the long-arm sewing machine. "You could have it stitched in a couple hours instead of a couple weeks."
"I know, but it just wouldn’t feel right to me. I’ve always hand-stitched the gifts I give to people. I’ll go another time. There will be plenty of other trips."
Sylvia nodded and threaded her needle with bright blue floss to whip stitch the edges of the boat’s sail. After knotting the floss, she drew the needle carefully through the fabric. Concentrating on keeping her stitches even, she tuned out the sound of the machine humming in the corner as well as the snippets of conversation going on around her.
"Isn't that sad news about Katie?" Ellen asked, sitting down beside her.
Sylvia looked up and glanced around the store. She hadn’t noticed the quiet receptionist wasn’t with their group that evening. "Where is she? Did something happen?"
Ellen nodded. "You know how eager she’s been to quit her job as soon as their credit cards were paid off?"
She nodded. "Yes. Last time we talked, she told me she hoped to be able to quit after the holidays since they’ve been putting her entire paycheck toward paying down the balances."
"That’s what she thought," Ellen said. "Then, yesterday, the credit card bill came in the mail, and she decided to check the balance. She was shocked to see the card was almost maxed out."
Sylvia gasped. "That's awful! But why didn't she know about it sooner?"
"Phil always paid the bills," Ellen explained. "So she never really looked at them. She left it all to him. Last night, she called me all upset at the discovery."
For as long as Sylvia had known Ellen, her friend had always been the person others turned to when they needed a sounding board or a shoulder to lean on. It was no surprise to hear Katie had turned to Ellen, too. "What did Phil say?"
"She hasn’t been able to ask him. He’s gone on one of his business trips again, and Katie doesn’t want to talk to him about it over the phone. She says she wants to be able to look him in the eye when she confronts him with the bill."
“I can understand that,” Sylvia said, grateful that Dave was so dependable. She picked up her quilt block, intending to continue the applique work, when a sudden thought struck her. Would she know if Dave suddenly blew through their saving and ran them into debt? He paid all their bills, too. But he’d changed so much recently. Could their finances be the reason for his late nights and this sudden reluctance to retire and travel with her?
Just that evening, he’d asked if she was making any more travel plans. At the time, Sylvia thought maybe he’d changed his mind about traveling, so she told him about a four-day shopping excursion Traveling Solo had planned. The trip would take them to Gurnee Mills and Chicago then head for the famous Christmas shop in Frankenmuth, Michigan. Instead of wanting to come along, Dave had dragged out the same one-note symphony about not needing to spend money to go on a trip just to buy stuff he didn’t need. Or at least that’s how it had sounded before she’d tuned him out.
Now, after hearing about Katie and Phil’s financial problems, Sylvia wondered if Dave’s resistance masked some deeper issue. Could a financial disaster lurk around the corner for her, too? Could that be why he worked more hours than ever lately, and why he shut her out whenever she brought up his retirement? Things couldn’t go on this way. Something had to give. Sylvia just hoped it wouldn’t be their marriage.
Chapter Eighteen
"Hello?"
"Sylvia, comment-allez vous?"
"Etienne?" Sylvia asked, surprised to hear his velvety smooth voice coming from her cell phone. "I — I'm fine. How are you?"
"Very lonely without you, cherie."
She blinked, uncertain how to take his remark. Was it just continental charm or was the man actually flirting with her? Before she could decide, he continued.
"When will you be making another trip?"
"I'm not sure," Sylvia hedged. "Exams are coming up, then the holidays, and several of the students I tutor now need extra help with their studies. Why do you ask?"
"Deanna from the tour group called. There is a trip to Chicago next weekend. Shopping then a play at one of the dinner theaters. I would be very happy if you would go."
Sylvia glanced at the calendar beside the breakfast bar and checked the date. Although it was the weekend before Christmas, amazingly, they had nothing planned.
"That might be fun. Our two sons live in Chicago, but I’ve never been to the city. I hear it’s beautiful during the holidays. I wonder if my husband can—"
"If he cannot, we can keep each other company, non. After all, that is what Traveling Solo is about, n’est pas?"
She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she merely mumbled something non-committal.
Etienne didn’t seem to notice her non-reply. "The coordinator, Deana, she also told me of another trip. Eet is after the holidays to Traverse City for a concert by The Londoners. Do you know of this group?"
"The Londoners? Oh my goodness. Of course I know of them. They were very popular when Dave and I were in college. Not as big as the Beatles, but they had some really good songs."
He rattled off a few more particulars then warned her that Deanna had told him registrations were filling up fast for this outing.
"That’s understandable. It’s extremely rare for them to perform in the Midwest. The concert is sure to be sold out."
"So you will go?" he asked. When she didn’t reply right away, he tried again. "Promise me you will at least think about eet, cherie."
"I will, I promise. It sounds very tempting, but the tickets are probably pretty expensive. I’ll have to discuss it with Dave before I decide."
"But of course. Still, I think you are, as they say, a woman who owns her mind, non?"
Sylvia smiled at the Gallic twist he gave the idiom. "Yes, Etienne. I do have a mind of my own, but I like to share things with David. I enjoy doing things together with him. That’s why I married him."
"Mais oui, that is as eet should be," he hurried to agree. "Your David is a most fortunate man."
"How could he not?" Etienne asked just as the phone line started to crackle. "Merde! I am losing the signal. I will talk to you in a few days, cherie."
"Okay. Talk to you later."
She disconnected the phone then turned to the built-in oven to check the progress of dinner. The glass of the oven door reflected someone standing behind her. Startled, she spun around to find Dave leaning in the kitchen doorway.
"Hi, honey. I didn’t hear you come in."
"Obviously. Who. Is. Etienne?"
Surprised by Dave’s tone, it took her a few moments to register his words. Pretending not to notice the anger, she gave a dismissive wave then turned back the oven. "Etienne Dumas. You met him when you picked me up from my trip. He’s one of the Traveling Solo group members. Remember?"
"The klutz who gave you the black eye?"
"Well, I’d hardly describe Etienne as a klutz." She chuckled, thinking of the smoothly elegant Canadian. "But yes, he’s the one I bumped heads with."
Dave muttered something then turned and headed down the hallway.
"Honey, dinner’s almost ready," Sylvia called after him. "I made your favorite. Meatloaf and baked potatoes."
"Eat without me," he replied without breaking his stride. "I’m not hungry."
Chapter Nineteen
"Sylvia, I’m home," Dave called then frowned when he found the kitchen empty and nothing started for dinner.
Where on earth was she?
He vaguely recalled her saying something at breakfast about doing some Christmas shopping, but she should have been home by now. Normally, dinner would almost be ready to go on the table when he arrived from work. But nothing was cooking in the oven or the crockpot. He glanced around the kitchen. She hadn’t left a note for him either. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone somewhere without leaving a message for him. True, he’d gotten home a little earlier than usual but not that much earlier.
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