by Gayle Hayes
"Sure, I understand. Is there anything you'd especially like to do Friday?" Eric asked.
"Surprise me. I really need to unwind," Emma said.
"Great. I'm looking forward to it. I wish I had the weekend off, too," he said.
Ally was standing in the door giving Emma the signal to wrap it up. Her client was waiting.
"Sorry, Eric. My next move-away case is waiting. Ohmygod, I'll be so ready to get out of here! Talk to you soon, bye."
"Safe trip, Emma," he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Emma's afternoon was interrupted by computer issues and a visit from an attorney, who was also a client. He brought his little girl, who was dressed like a bunny for Halloween, into the office so he could show her off to his friends and colleagues. The little girl would be with her mother on the actual holiday. By the time they left her office, Emma needed to rush into the restroom, freshen up, and head for her dinner with Jack Hennessey.
It was five minutes to six when Emma walked into the Denver Grill. She told the hostess she was meeting a friend and thought he might already be there. The hostess said she was not aware anyone was waiting. Emma scanned the lounge, did not see Jack Hennessey, and chose a small booth away from the bar where she could see him arrive. She told the waitress she would wait until the other party arrived to order.
Only two of the eight stools at the bar were taken, and Emma was the only one in a booth. The booths were upholstered in wine colored fabric with a black chevron design. A candle sat in the center of the black table on a pedestal that matched the wine fabric. The carpet was dark, too, and the lights were dimmed. With the high backs on the booths, the lounge was a good place to meet someone for a private conversation. It did not lend itself to people watching.
While she waited, Emma checked her Facebook page, Twitter feed, and a few of her news sites along with the stock market report. Emma began following the market after she inherited assets from Harold Lowe and Frances Favager. At half past six, Emma told the waitress she was waiting for someone named Jack and would be right back from the restroom. When she emerged five minutes later, Emma was surprised not to see him. The waitress assured her that no one asked for her and suggested Emma might like to order. Emma wondered if the waitress was accustomed to seeing women wait for men who never showed up.
Emma was sipping a glass of Chardonnay and planning to dine alone when Jack Hennessey walked through the door at ten minutes to seven. She'd been waiting almost an hour. Emma alternated between acute disappointment and intense displeasure. She forced a smile and waved at Jack. She moved her handbag out of the way so he could slide in next to her.
"Emma, I'm so sorry. I hope you were late, too," he said.
"No, I was on time. No problem. I've been catching up with social media," she said. She was surprised at how well she concealed her disappointment, but it was not difficult. Jack Hennessey was an imposing presence. A shadow of beard gave him a swarthy, rugged look. High cheekbones called attention to his smoky blue eyes that were deep set under full, arching brows. She was riveted by his smile. It produced deep furrows that outlined and drew attention to his full, sensual mouth. She couldn't place the scent of his cologne, but it intensified the pleasure she was feeling from the Chardonnay. Later, she realized he never offered an excuse for being late. He ordered a martini. Emma was more relaxed and asked if it was shaken, not stirred. They laughed.
"I suppose everyone says you remind them of Bond. The original one, I mean."
"Yes. I have heard it before. He's aged well, but I always hope people see me as he was in Dr. No. Do you have a favorite? I suppose you prefer the later Bonds."
"I found Pierce Brosnan very easy to watch, but my favorite movie was From Russia with Love. Bond seemed to really fall for her, the Russian spy. I guess I liked it more than the way he used and discarded the women he met," Emma said.
"My mother meant to name me after Connery, but my father insisted no son of his would be named Sean. My father campaigned for President Kennedy. He never cared for John, but he thought Jack had a manly sound to it. I was born the year before he died…Kennedy, I mean." Hennessey took a sip of his martini. "This must be like ancient history to you." He laughed.
"Not at all. My half-brother was named for Kennedy, too. I imagine it was pretty common. John was near your age. You don't look fifty, but I've heard fifty is the new forty. I think it's all relative," Emma said.
"I suppose we should order. Would you prefer the dining room?"
"This is fine. It's quiet for a Thursday night."
Jack ordered the grilled chicken, mixed vegetables, and salad and told the waitress to hold the potato for both of them. When she left, he whispered, "How do you suppose she gets anything done holding those potatoes?" Emma thought Jack sounded a little like Sean Connery, and she wondered if it was something he practiced.
When Emma thought about the evening later, she could not recall much of their conversation. She'd been completely distracted by Jack's charm and his husky voice. She'd noticed that he put his arm on the back of the booth and dangled his hand so his fingers occasionally brushed her bare arm. She knew he was old enough to be her father, but he would have been a very young twenty years old when she was born. He certainly was more interesting than the men her age. He never brought up sports once the entire evening. Most men she dated couldn't get through an evening without discussing the Broncos.
They were finishing their coffee when Jack asked if she'd be able to attend a friend's party with him.
"I wish I could. I'm spending the weekend in Montana and should get some sleep. It's been a busy week."
"When does your flight leave?"
"Around noon."
"Well, you'll have plenty of time to sleep. I usually don't have any choice but to attend these things alone. I would be in your debt," he said.
Emma was enjoying the evening. She could sleep once she was in Montana. She thought it would be safe enough, especially if they were in a taxi. She offered to call the company she always used.
"I rented a car. It's easier here. I'm used to the bigger cities with a cab on the curb," he said.
Whether it was the Chardonnay, Jack Hennessey's physique, the fact that he was an older man, or her own intuition, Emma decided he could be trusted and excused herself to use the restroom while Jack paid the tab. Emma was alone and dialed Ally's extension at the office. She'd only done this once before. Ally would know what to do if she didn't hear from Emma when she arrived at the office Friday. Ally was the only one in the office Emma trusted with her secrets, and she'd proved she was able to keep them to herself.
"Ally, this is Emma. I'm leaving the Denver Grill at nine Thursday night with a man I don't know very well. His name is Jack Hennessey. Check my rolodex for Crystal Smart. She knows how to contact him. He's rented a car while he's in town. He stays at his mother's house. We're going to his friend's party. I'm sure he's fine, but I'll call you by eight to confirm I'm all right. Thanks, Ally. As usual, mum's the word."
Emma found Jack Hennessey waiting for her in the lounge. His face lit up when he saw her.
"You look lovely, Emma. Thank you for changing your plans for me. I promise not to keep you out too late," he said.
Emma blushed. She hoped he'd never find out about her message to Ally. Then she relaxed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Carole Wylie stripped Harold's bed and then heard someone on the porch. She thought Phyllis must have found a way to get out of her board meeting and was surprised not to see her. Instead, Carole opened the door to a bouquet of red roses. She set them on the coffee table and looked for a card. Welcome back to Buffalo Jump. Eric. Carole would not have been more delighted if the roses were for her. She was anxious to tell Phyllis. She started thinking about various restaurants where she would collect on their wager.
All of Harold's linens were overdue to be replaced. Carole brought along one of her nicest sets of sheets for Emma to use. It was the color of fresh lemons
. Yellow rose buds and a white lace trim decorated the opening of the pillow cases. She draped Harold's comforter over the clothes line to air. Then she started the wash machine and headed for the Buffalo Jump Mercantile.
Sean Garrett had been elevated from box boy to clerk. He scanned Carole's items and asked if she had a coupon for the cereal. Then he brought an ad out from under the counter, scanned the cereal coupon, and asked if she'd found everything she needed.
"I see you're out of Mr. Right," Carole laughed.
"Do you want a rain check? I don't remember that from the ad," Sean said.
"I don't suppose the young gals call him Mr. Right now. You know, the man of their dreams, Mr. Wonderful…" Carole said.
Sean didn't realize she was joking.
"Sorry, Ma'am. I can ask the manager," he said.
Carole handed him twenty dollars. "Thanks for the discount on the cereal, Sean," she said.
"Yes, Ma'am. Have a nice day."
Carole set the groceries on the counter in Harold's kitchen. She rinsed off the quart of milk and dried it with a paper towel before setting it in the refrigerator. After placing the loaf of bread in the bread box, she removed the lid and took it out again. She was afraid Emma would not know to look there for bread. The bread box was rectangular, white metal with a red lid and red apples on the front. The word, BREAD, was not imprinted on the box. Those of a certain age would know what it was, but Emma was probably too young to remember. Harold also had matching salt and pepper shakers and a match holder, which was on the wall next to the stove. Carole had coveted the bread box set, and now she hoped she'd have an opportunity to ask Emma if she planned to part with it. She placed the apples and oranges in a basket on the counter and set the jar of creamy peanut butter by the bread. She'd debated whether to get chunky or creamy, and giggled to herself when she decided Emma was not the nutty type. She wanted Emma to have a few things on hand so the empty house would feel more welcoming. She knew Emma would probably not be eating meals in, but she might need a snack.
After taking another walk through the house, Carole set the heat at sixty, and locked the door. Then she saw leaves on the porch swing and looked for the broom. She held a pillow in each hand and beat them together to remove the dust. With the cooler October temperatures, it was unlikely Emma and Eric would sit on the swing, but it would be more inviting this way. Carole sat on the swing, leaned back against the pillows, and remembered sitting there with Harold.
Carole and Harold met soon after her fiancé died in Vietnam. It was hard to believe almost fifty years had passed. Harold was interested in Carole from the first, but it took several years before she could forget the man she'd lost. By the time she was ready to move on, Harold had given up on a relationship with her and settled for a friendship. Carole often wondered if anything would have been different if Frances Favager didn't visit Buffalo Jump. Carole sighed. She suspected Harold was in love with Phyllis, too. She put up with her share of abuse from Phyllis over the years, but she only resented the way Phyllis treated Harold. Carole wondered if he loved Phyllis or simply enjoyed the challenge. It didn't matter now. He was only a summer memory in the autumn of her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Eric Knudsen sat in the rotunda of the courthouse and waited to testify. The case was a felony DUI against a local resident who'd been charged with DUI five times. Eric arrested him on his sixth DUI while staked out behind the pizza parlor six months earlier. He'd read his report to refresh his memory, but he was anxious to get this behind him.
While he waited, Eric thought about Emma's visit. He was disappointed she was coming on his weekend to work. He wished she would have called him first. If he had more time, Eric would have taken Emma to the CM Russell Museum and the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center in Great Falls.
Eric was raised in California and enjoyed reading about the Spanish explorers and the gold rush. After he moved to Montana, he filled his free time reading about the history of the state and visiting the historic sites. He wished he'd been born in the 1880's. Thomas Edison patented the incandescent lamp, and electricity was changing the country from lights on Broadway in New York City to the first hydroelectric plant in the mid-west, to the first power station in California. Montana recently achieved statehood, and the plains Indians Charlie Russell portrayed in his paintings were still battling the likes of General Custer. Then, Montana had less than 150,000 people, and each of them had about a square mile to himself.
On his days off, Eric enjoyed painting his own scenes of Montana with a touch of whimsy. While the foreground of the paintings showed a modern scene such as the one of rush hour in Great Falls, it appeared to be superimposed upon a scene from the past much like Russell himself would have painted. Indians and cowboys on horseback came together at the same intersection without the traffic. Eric believed his job as a deputy was important, but he had ambitions to earn his living as an artist. In addition to painting, he drew cartoons about life in Montana. Like Charlie Russell, Eric would occasionally send personal letters with an original drawing of something they shared to his friends. He joked that they should save the letters to finance their new homes someday, but in his heart of hearts, Eric hoped his art would be worth something.
Eric left the witness stand, walked out of the courtroom, and took the stairs to the men's room. His face flushed during cross examination, and he was relieved to see it did not trigger the ruddiness, which sometimes remained for hours. He studied his image in the mirror and wondered if Emma would like the way he looked in his uniform. He would not have time to change before meeting her at the airport that afternoon. He wished he did not have freckles. His mother promised he would outgrow them, but they seemed more prominent instead. They made him look younger than he felt. He thought his blue eyes were his best feature.
Emma's flight was delayed at the Denver airport due to an unruly passenger. Eric wished he would have changed to street clothes. He felt more conspicuous in uniform and was already ill at ease about seeing Emma for the first time in almost four months. Eric tried to concentrate on his Facebook feed while he waited, but he was impatient. He would not see much of Emma, and now she would be late. He wondered if the roses were delivered to Harold Lowe's house. He'd thought about asking Phyllis or Carole to go by the house and take the flowers inside, but the florist couldn't tell him when they might be delivered.
Once the flight arrived, Eric stood at the rear of the crowd of people waiting for passengers from Denver. He hoped most of them would be gone when Emma appeared. He wanted to put his arms around her, but he'd not do that unless they were alone. He watched anxiously as the passengers hugged happy relatives and friends. An older couple took turns greeting their son. Eric assumed he was their son because he resembled his mother. The dad shook his son's hand. The young man bent slightly so his mother could wrap her arms around his neck. A young woman in a suit was greeted by another her age who was also wearing a suit. They shook hands and walked out of the airport without stopping at the baggage carousel. A small child ran toward an elderly woman who was almost as wide as she was tall. "Grandma!" The child introduced grandma to her new doll. Eric watched with interest as the grandmother, who depended upon a walker and a small canister of oxygen, seemed to be caught up in validating the child's fantasy, saying she was so pleased to meet the doll and complimenting her dress. The old woman listened patiently as the child rambled on with a surprisingly detailed account of her and Lizzy's first airline flight.
The passengers distracted Eric and occupied his attention. Then he realized everyone had deplaned, and he did not see Emma.
Eric knew he'd been distracted by the other passengers. He walked to the baggage carousel, but Emma wasn't there. When he didn't see her, Eric walked outside the terminal and expected to find her waiting there for him. He went back inside the building, planning to ask someone to check the restroom for him. He was nearly at the ticket counter when he saw Emma sitting where he'd been a few minutes before.
&nb
sp; "Emma! Were you sitting there all this time?"
"No. I went to the restroom when I didn't see you. Then I got my bag and waited by the main door for a few minutes before I sat down. You must've come straight from work," Emma said.
"I didn't want to take time to change. But I've been here quite a while. I was watching other passengers from your flight. Then I realized I didn't see you. I've been looking all over for you."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Emma said.
"I'm glad you're all right. I thought you might've been hurt by the passenger who delayed your flight," Eric said.
Emma laughed. "No. He'd spent too much time in the airport bar. It was funny, actually."
Eric thought he would at least give Emma a friendly hug when he saw her, but there seemed to be a distance between them. He decided to take it slowly and offered to carry something instead. While they walked to his car, Emma described the antics of the passenger who drank too much.
"Would you mind stopping by my place so I can change? I should've done it earlier, but I was running late because of a trial. I thought I'd miss you."
"Not at all. Do you have something in mind for dinner?" Emma asked.
"I thought we'd go back to the riverboat restaurant. But my apartment is in Buffalo Jump, so we'll need to drive back to Great Falls to eat."
"I'm really more ready to relax than eat. Why don't you drop me by my father's place while you change? I can order a pizza and have it delivered when you get there. Unless you're too hungry for pizza." Emma said.
Eric had been parked behind the pizza parlor for so long that he lost his appetite for pizza. He was more interested in being with Emma and in doing whatever pleased her, so he agreed with her plan. She insisted that he drop her off, but he was not comfortable letting her go into the dark house alone.
Emma unlocked the door, noticed the squeak was more obvious, and flipped the light switch. One fixture in the ceiling produced a soft, warm glow in the room. Emma immediately noticed the roses on the coffee table and looked for a card.