Tripp headed for her luggage. “Give me your keys, and I’ll take these out to the car for you.”
Instead of following the men outside, Valerie lingered nearby to stare out the window as Tripp stowed her bags in the trunk of her rental car. Finally, she glanced back at Abby. “I know I really blew it with Tripp all those years ago. Yeah, he was gone too much, and we were both too young to be married. But looking back, I wish I’d stuck it out a while longer. Maybe we could have gotten through the bad times and come out okay in the end.”
Turning back to the window, she sighed. “Seeing him again has stirred up all kinds of emotions, both good and bad. I’ve dated other men over the years, but none ever lived up to my memories of Tripp. I thought maybe I’d romanticized him all out of proportion, but as it turns out, I didn’t.”
Finally there was something Abby and the barnacle could agree on. “He is a good man, Valerie. One of the best.”
There was something really sad about Valerie’s answering smile. She pulled two pieces of paper out of her purse and dropped them on the table next to Abby’s chair. “Those are the tickets to the dance. I won’t be coming back for it.”
Abby picked them up. “You paid a lot of money for these, Valerie. I’m not sure the veterans group is set up to offer refunds, but I can ask.”
“Don’t worry about it. The money is going to a good cause.” Her expression turned a bit wistful. “Take Tripp to the dance, my treat.”
She started for the door, stopping long enough to say one more thing. “I know you probably don’t want any advice from me, Abby. But as you said, Tripp’s a good man, and he obviously cares about you. If you get the same chance I had back in the day, don’t blow it like I did.”
Then Valerie walked away, leaving Abby sitting in stunned silence. She started to follow her outside but changed her mind. All things considered, the barnacle deserved to say goodbye to Tripp one last time without an audience.
Epilogue
The night of the dance arrived at long last. Abby had met the other committee members at the hall two hours before the dance was due to begin in order to finish up a few last-minute details and get the refreshments organized. Meanwhile, the photographer they’d hired to take portraits set up in a small room off to the side. And although a live band might have been more realistic for a World War II dance, they’d decided a deejay was far more practical, not to mention economical. It took a little longer than expected to get his sound system set up, and people were already arriving by the time everything was done.
Abby stopped to look around the hall and was amazed by the transformation. She’d studied pictures of dances from back during the war years, and the committee had done an amazing job of bringing that world to life. She couldn’t wait for the festivities to get underway.
Slipping into the ladies’ room, she traded her work clothes for her dress and then touched up her makeup. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. Wow. Between the old-fashioned dress and her hair done up in victory rolls, she barely recognized herself. Even if she said so herself, she was really rocking the look.
After the stressful events of the past two weeks, she suspected the whole town was ready to have a little fun. It was time to go find her escort for the evening. Tripp hadn’t let her see the uniform he’d rented for the night, so she had no idea what he’d be wearing.
She could only hope it wouldn’t be hard to pick him out of the crowd of soldiers and sailors out there. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she opened the door out into the narrow passage that led back toward the hall, where the music had already started playing. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried.
A tall, handsome soldier, looking extra sharp in his army uniform, stood leaning against the wall a short distance away. As soon as she appeared, he straightened up and sauntered toward her, an appreciative smile on his face that she felt all the way from her head to her toes.
Then Tripp offered her his arm. “Miss McCree, I do believe this next dance is mine.”
Death by Auction Page 27