“Yeah. Some guy threw it in the middle of the night. I chased him into the woods. Mom said it was probably the worker they fired yesterday, just trying to get back at them.”
Luke felt as if he’d just been doused with cold water. The chill went to his blood. Roy was dangerous—and still sneaking around Magnolia Mile.
They paid for the glass and got back in the car. Luke immediately said, “Tell me what happened last night.”
He got an adolescent pumped-up heroic accounting. Which, he imagined, was the polar opposite of what Analise would deliver—the dismissive, everything’s all right version of the tale. Luke didn’t really need either one. He’d set his mind on a course of action. Nothing was going to change it.
Olivia was on her knees pruning some hydrangea bushes in two-gallon black plastic containers when Luke and Cole returned. As she got to her feet, she ran the back of one gloved hand over her nose, driving away the tickle that had been bothering her for the past several seconds. “I thought you two had gotten lost.”
“My fault,” Luke said. “We went by the Stargazer to pick up my stuff. I’ve decided to take you up on that room.”
“What?” Analise stepped out from behind the trellis wall.
Luke shrugged. “After making the drive this morning, I realized how much more convenient it’d be if I bunked here.”
Olivia saw Analise narrow her eyes at Cole, who was getting the new glass out of the trunk.
Analise quickly said, “If this is all about that broken window, you don’t have to worry. Olivia reported it to Dave this morning. He’s already been by and is keeping an eye out for Roy.”
Luke locked gazes with her. “No. This is all about me not driving over an hour a day on bumpy back roads in order to shovel dirt and cart plants.”
She shot him a look that said she knew he was lying. Liv knew it, too, but had no intention of saying so. Whatever his motivation, she was thrilled to have Luke under her roof. She needed him—they were all going to need him.
“Good. Good,” she said, pulling off her gloves. “You can take the green room.”
“What about the downstairs room?” Analise interjected. “That way he’d have his own bath.”
“And have him sleep on that lumpy old fold-out? Don’t be ridiculous.” Olivia looked at Cole. “Take his bag up to the green room.”
Cole looked pleased.
Analise looked unhappy.
And Olivia was having a difficult time understanding why her daughter-in-law was so prickly when it came to Luke.
Analise had given Olivia a serious frown when her mother-in-law had suggested they follow their usual Saturday night routine and go to the Boxcar Diner—Luke in tow. But at least if they were in a noisy, crowded place, it would be easier to avoid the questions Luke had returned to ask.
Again and again she cursed herself for the momentary weakness at the cemetery when she’d let those words slip: He was a lousy husband. The time was soon coming when she’d have to explain them to Luke. And she’d have to do it in a way that didn’t divulge the true reason she’d been compelled to tell him in the first place.
When she’d led him into the cemetery, she hadn’t been sure of her motivation—in fact, it wasn’t until she was fleeing, praying he wouldn’t follow her, that it had come crashing home. She’d wanted Luke to know so he would look at her not as a grieving widow, but as a woman. She’d discovered something about herself that she’d kept walled away for longer than she cared to admit: She wanted a moment, a fantasy in which another man could find her desirable—one who wouldn’t be hanging around to complicate her life with Olivia and Cole.
Well, she’d just have to change her perspective now that Luke was staying.
“Ready, Ana?” Olivia called up the stairs.
She wiped off the lipstick she’d just put on. “Coming.”
When she got downstairs, Olivia, Luke and Cole were standing by the back door. “Sorry.” She looked around. “Is Rufus in?”
“Yeah, and he’s been fed. Let’s go,” Cole said impatiently.
Analise looked curiously at him. Since Calvin had died, Cole repeatedly tried to blow off the Saturday night dinner. Of course, Olivia never let him. This was the first time he hadn’t put up a fight in months. “Okay.” She smiled. “Let’s go.”
The Boxcar Diner was actually a cross between a restaurant and a honky-tonk. On Saturday night there was live music—alternating between blues and country—and all-you-can-eat fried catfish. They served beer by the pitcher and had vinyl table covers with black-and-white cow print, railway lanterns over the booths and a toy train that ran around the perimeter of the room on a track suspended just below the ceiling. The windows in the place hadn’t been cleaned in a lifetime and were fogged so heavily with grime and cigarette smoke that, once inside, you could hardly see daylight on the brightest day.
Analise could see the pleasure on Luke’s face when they walked in. “Your kind of place?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “Bet they’ve got sweet potato casserole and chocolate chess pie.”
“Best in the county on both counts.” She led them to a booth in the back corner.
He sniffed loudly. “There’s enough cholesterol in the air alone to clog a man’s arteries.”
Cole laughed loudly as they followed Analise toward the back of the restaurant.
Most of the tables were filled. Luke glanced back over his shoulder and saw several people waiting near the door. He caught up with Analise and whispered, “Hey, there were people waiting for tables.”
She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. “Liv has permanent Saturday night reservations.”
Luke realized she was no longer moving along with them. “Where’d she go?”
“She’ll get back here eventually. Gotta work the room on her way in.”
“Gets really embarrassing,” Cole said, sliding into the booth.
Analise waited, letting Luke choose whether to sit beside Cole or on the unoccupied side. Normally, she shared the side with Cole—unless Darcy was along. She realized suddenly that Darcy hadn’t joined them for Saturday night dinner in a long while. She’d have to ask Cole about that.
Luke sat next to Cole. Analise breathed a little sigh of relief; she didn’t have to choose between sitting next to Luke or having his probing eyes directly across the table from her. She scooted deep into the booth, across from Cole.
“I see we have a visitor tonight,” Rosie, their regular Saturday night waitress, said as she set an icy pitcher of beer in the center of the table. It was followed by three frosty mugs and a tall Coke for Cole. “I’ll have your onion rings right out.” She turned to Luke. “You want anything special added to the appetizers?”
When Luke looked up and smiled at Rosie, who was still riding on the early side of thirty and was very attractive, Analise felt a nip of jealousy.
He asked, “You recommend anything?”
Rosie pursed her lips into a sensual pout and tapped them with her pencil. “Fried pickles are my favorite. Course, the wings are popular.”
Luke nudged Cole with an elbow. “What d’ya say? Wings or pickles?”
Analise didn’t miss the way Cole sat up a little straighter when being consulted. He said, “Wings with beer.”
Luke tilted his head slightly and raised a brow. “And you know this because . . .”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Like I come in here and order beer. Wings are more . . . manly. Pickles are for girls.”
Luke looked back to Rosie. “A manly platter of wings it is.”
She dipped her chin. “You’ll have to come back another time for the pickles. Tart and hot.” She actually gave a little shiver of pleasure. “I highly recommend them.”
My gosh, could the woman be any more blatant?
Luke certainly didn’t react like he’d been the recipient of a let me take you for a wild ride message. Instead, he turned immediately to Cole. “So this is a Saturday night tradition in the Abbott-Lejeun
e household? You even have a standing order.”
At first Cole’s eyes flashed like he was going to respond with a derogatory comment, showing Luke he was too old for “family traditions.” But Luke quickly added, “I think this is really cool. Wish I could do something like this with my dad and sisters every once in a while.”
“You miss your family,” Olivia stated as she slid into the booth. “How long since you’ve seen them?”
Luke poured beer into the mugs. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been back to Glens Crossing. I try to make phone contact at least once a month. Dad and Lily came to visit a couple of times while I was in the hospital. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company at the time.”
If Olivia felt a shred of guilt over detaining Luke from getting home, she didn’t show any sign of it.
Rosie delivered the appetizers. “I assume y’all want the usual.” She ran her gaze over Liv, Ana and Cole. Then she looked at Luke. “The usual is fried catfish, hush puppies, slaw and fries. You care to try something different?”
Analise gritted her teeth at the innuendo in the woman’s voice.
Luke just smiled and raised a hand. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with the usual.” Then he reached for a wing.
Rosie hesitated for a moment longer. Then, as she started to leave, Luke called her back. “I would like to add an order of sweet potato casserole, though.”
“All righty, sugar.” She smiled and turned with a provocative toss of her hair.
Once she was out of earshot, Cole said, “Dude! She was totally hitting on you.”
“Why, I do believe you’re right,” Olivia agreed, with a hint of mock surprise in her voice.
“She hits on all men.” The words were out before Analise could stop them. She sounded adolescent and petty.
“Nuh-uh,” Cole said. “Not like that.”
“Eat your wings.” Analise took a long drink of beer, but didn’t miss Luke’s wide grin.
She managed better at maintaining her civility throughout the remainder of the meal. They settled into conversations that slid easily from one topic to the other. Luke shared a few stories that had Cole completely rapt. The boy was more lively than she’d seen him in months. After they finished off their meals with chocolate chess pie—on Luke’s insistence—and the band was beginning to set up, Luke and Cole went to shoot pool in the alcove that was on the other side of the room. As Analise watched them, she began to feel selfish for being so resentful about Luke’s presence. It wasn’t his fault she was attracted to him. He seemed to be so good for Cole, and Olivia practically beamed in his presence.
That thought rekindled her original concern. Was Olivia becoming attached to Luke as a link to her lost son? If so, Olivia would be opening herself to more pain. Because the only sure thing in Luke’s presence was the fact that he’d be leaving.
The band made some general noise—random drumbeats and cymbal clashes, odd plucked notes and a few stray chords—as they warmed up. Then they began their first set. Tonight the music was country, which Analise preferred to blues. The band wound down on their opening song and the vocalist announced it was time to open the dance floor—which meant the four tables directly in front of the band were removed, crumbs were swept from the hardwood and the lights were dimmed.
As always during the first dance of Saturday night, Dave Dunston appeared to take Analise to the dance floor. It was a habit he’d begun on the first Saturday that they’d returned to their routine after Calvin’s death. At first, Analise had been hesitant, but Olivia had encouraged her, saying Dave was just doing what he could to help ease her loss. After all, he and Calvin had been good friends. Since the day Calvin left for the army, Dave had made an effort to fill his absence. Deep down, Analise had been grateful for Olivia’s encouragement; she really loved to dance.
Olivia said, “Dave, I’d like you to meet Luke Boudreau. He was in the Rangers with Calvin.”
Dave nodded at Luke. “We’ve met.”
“Good to see you again,” Luke said as they shook hands.
Dave’s gaze quickly switched to Analise. “Ready, darlin’?”
“You bet.”
Dave took her elbow and guided her through the tables. Stepping onto the dance floor, Analise saw Dick and Lois Baker, having passed their forty-first anniversary, locking hands for a lively two-step. There was something about seeing those two dance that always made Analise feel hollow and lacking inside. What would it be like to have a life partner who shared your everyday pleasures?
“What are you looking at?” Dave asked as he grabbed her hand and gave her a twirl, sending her unbound hair in a flighty arc.
Normally she left her hair braided when they came out on Saturday night. Tonight, she supposed the same hidden yearning that had made her put on lipstick had also been responsible for the hair. When she faced him again, she had to toss it out of her face. It made her feel unusually flirty. She glanced at the booth.
Luke was talking animatedly to Cole, not looking in her direction at all; she couldn’t deny a nibble of disappointment.
“The Bakers,” she said to Dave. “They’re just so cute together.”
“Well, hey, I always thought we were pretty cute together,” he said, a note of teasing in his voice. “Maybe in another twenty years we’ll be as cute as they are.”
The comment made Analise miss a step. The thought of dancing with Dave, friend of her dead husband, every Saturday night for the next twenty years made her falter.
“Whoa, there; that’d be my toe, little lady.”
Analise cringed. “Sorry.”
About halfway through “Ain’t Goin’ Down ’til the Sun Comes Up,” and just about the time she was beginning to feel a little breathless from the rapid-paced dance, she saw Olivia spin by.
Startled, Ana did a double-take; Olivia never danced. But there she was, laughing, looking like a sprite as Luke tucked her under his arm and swung her out again. Analise nearly stopped midstep, but she managed to keep her feet moving until the song played out.
Stepping away from Dave, fighting the urge to ogle Olivia and Luke, she bowed her head and said, “You’re a fabulous dance partner, as always. Thank you.”
Dave grinned. “One of these days, I’ll get you to dance more than one.”
She shook a finger in the air. “One’s my limit.” It wasn’t that she didn’t long to dance more, that her toes didn’t tap secretly under the table and her feet itch to move with the music. But this was a routine that had certain built-in limits. She wasn’t sure she was ready to step beyond those. As it was, everyone knew she danced one dance with Dave, the old family friend, and that was it. She didn’t have to deal with curious glances and hushed whispers that Widow Abbott was looking for a new husband.
Dave started to escort her back to her table. But from the corner of her eye, she saw Mimi Adkins inching shyly closer to Dave. “I can find my way back.” She gave a discreet nod of her head in Mimi’s direction and whispered, “I think you have another partner waiting.”
Mimi had probably been the home-ec teacher’s pet in school. She exuded a backward wholesomeness that home-ec teachers always seemed to favor. In adulthood, she hadn’t strayed far from that field, working at the Heavenly Delight Bakery on Commerce. She was known county-wide for her beautiful wedding cakes. Analise often wondered if perhaps there was a little envy in the placement of the bride and groom atop each cake. As far as she could tell, Mimi didn’t date.
She hurried off, giving Mimi a chance to nab Dave before he got away. Mimi had had a crush on him since . . . well, as long as Analise had been in town. From the look in Mimi’s eye, it probably stretched way back to when she was learning to bake in eighth-grade cooking class. And of course, as with most males, Dave seemed oblivious. Maybe he was just shy, too, Analise thought as she headed back to the booth.
Maybe he just needed a nudge in the right direction.
She stifled a gleeful giggle at the prospect of playing cupid for those two. M
aybe she’d even recruit Olivia. This was just the sort of thing Olivia loved to scheme.
Analise arrived back at the booth before Olivia and Luke.
Cole said, “Did you see Mom?” There was as much stunned wonder in his voice as there had been in Analise’s initial reaction.
“She’s a pretty good dancer,” Analise said.
A breathless Olivia returned on Luke’s arm, escorted as properly as if they were at a cotillion instead of a run-down honky-tonk. Her hand fluttered just over her heart as she sat down. “My gracious! I’d forgotten I could do that.”
Luke gave her the same gracious bow he’d given Analise that first day they’d met. Silly as it was, the chivalry of it made Analise’s heart trip a little faster.
Analise grinned. “You’re great. You should dance more often.”
Olivia waved the suggestion away. “I’d need to build up a lot more stamina. Besides, there aren’t many men like Luke around here; he knows how to cut a rug.”
“It was all my partner’s grace.” Luke tilted his head. “Care to give it another go?”
“Oh, goodness, no.” Then she turned her gaze to Analise. “But Ana loves to dance.”
Just as the words were out of Olivia’s mouth, the next song started. It was going to be a slow one. The intro played for “It’s Your Love” and Analise decided no way was she dancing. That song always made her feel particularly melancholy.
“Liv, I’m sure Luke’s had enough.”
“Nonsense.”
“His knee—”
“Can use the exercise.”
“He’s tired; he worked all day.”
“He seems perfectly—”
Luke cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t know if you ladies have noticed, but you’re developing quite a habit of arguing about me as if I’m not here.”
“See, Ana, you’ve made him uncomfortable.”
Analise sat up straighter. “I’ve made him—”
Her mouth snapped shut as Luke took her hand and yanked her to her feet. “Let’s dance.”
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