He’d taken three steps before he exhaled, two more before he stopped. “Strawberry jam or grape what?” he asked, his back to her, ramrod straight, his shoulders rigid.
“It’s a friendly getting-to-know-you question.”
He faced her slowly, the box in his arms, a scowl on his face. “Grape.”
As the marching band launched into “Home on the Range,” she said, “I can see that about you. Cats or dogs?”
She could tell he was fighting a losing battle to stay angry. “If you must know, horses.”
She grabbed a box of dishware, too. Falling into step beside him, she said, “Did you have horses when you were growing up?”
“A gelding named Stud.”
“I’ll bet he appreciated the vote of confidence.” She knew she was out of hot water when one corner of Reed’s mouth twitched. “Sunrise or sunset?” she asked.
Ever the gentleman, he waited for her to precede him through the door. He kept her guessing through two more trips to her car and back made in silence. After closing the trunk, he brushed the dust off his hands, and then took a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. She was in the process of swiping her hands on her gray T-shirt that covered all but the bottom few inches of her shorts when he said, “Sam has a new lead.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark lenses, but she felt him watching her. “That’s good, right?”
“He has footage from a surveillance camera at a private airstrip outside Charleston. Even though the image was slightly grainy, one of the passengers bears an uncanny resemblance to the woman Marsh fell for on Roanoke Island last summer.”
Shading her eyes with one hand, she asked, “Where was she going?”
“She was boarding a small private commuter plane for Detroit the same day we discovered Joey on our porch. That’s some coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Was there any evidence of Joey in that footage?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No baby, no diaper bag, no car seat, nothing but a small carry-on slung over her shoulder. I know. There’s an enormous piece missing from the puzzle. Marsh thinks it was Julia, though.”
The breeze ruffled the collar of Reed’s shirt and stirred the leaves in the ornamental trees lining Division Street. She and Reed stood together in the dappled shade for a moment listening to the marching band play “Stars and Stripes Forever.”
Marsh was searching high and low for a woman named Julia who may or may not have been seen boarding a plane for Detroit without a baby or any items a baby would need, and Reed was looking for a woman who may or may not have gotten pregnant as a result of a Fourth-of-July-rockets’-red-glare one-night stand. He hadn’t actually used that terminology when he’d explained the situation to her, but she imagined a man like Reed would set off plenty of fireworks between a woman’s sheets.
She wondered how Reed and Marsh stood so many unanswered questions. Their patience was humbling, for she’d nearly crawled out of her skin over a delay in Bell’s renovations. The sooner the Sullivans received the results of the paternity test, the better.
“Sunset,” he said out of the blue.
“Pardon me?” she said, not following the change in topic.
“You asked. I prefer sunset.”
She glanced up at him and almost smiled at his take-it-or-leave-it attitude. “Summer or winter?”
Reed assumed his apparent favorite pose, feet apart, hands on his hips, head cocked slightly. “Fall.”
“That wasn’t one of the options. Have you always made your own rules?”
“Look who’s talking. You could have asked for a helping hand today. I would have loaned you a pickup or gone with you, for that matter.”
Slipping her hands into her back pockets, she said, “I can see that now, but it didn’t occur to me at the time. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t ask to borrow a vehicle from Abby or Chelsea, either.”
“The last I knew, Chelsea has never driven her Audi down a dirt road, and Abby’s car isn’t much bigger than she is. Logically, why would you have asked to borrow a ride from them?”
“We’re being logical?” Ruby quipped.
“You’re incorrigible,” he said.
He smiled, though. And so did she.
“Heavy metal or alternative?” she asked as he started away from her down the sidewalk. When he said nothing, she called, “If you can’t make up your mind, I understand. You can text me your answer. And it takes one to know one.”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to say pal. For some reason, that prickled the back of her mind and then stayed there.
He opened his door and got in his car, which was visible now that a panel truck had backed out of the space beside him. He didn’t wave as he drove away. He smiled, though. And then he was gone.
Another hot breeze wafted through town and one patriotic song ended and another began. Ruby remained for a moment in the dappled shade in front of Bell’s. Something had shifted between her and Reed today, and she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed.
She looked down, wiggled her toes. All ten of them, with their bright pink polish, sat prettily at the ends of her narrow feet, nestled in her flip-flops, not buzzing, not tingling.
The area beneath her breastbone where forgotten dreams waited, though? There was plenty happening there.
That worried her most of all.
* * *
A few days later, Ruby sat across from Chelsea and Abby in her favorite booth at the Hill. Smelling of stroganoff, fried chicken, strong coffee and strawberry-rhubarb pie, the restaurant was as crowded and noisy as it always was on Fridays at one. Chelsea had gotten here early enough to order an appetizer tray and arrange the newspaper so it was open to the advertisement announcing Bell’s grand reopening. It was the first thing Ruby saw when she arrived.
The ad was far more impressive than one would expect from a small-city daily. At first glance, the Orchard Hill News offices had looked like something out of an old Clark Gable movie. But Abby, reporter, photographer and miracle worker extraordinaire, had proven that the newspaper was far more than the culmination of steel desks and black phones.
Ruby had designed the ad herself; Abby had suggested a few minor changes. The end result was amazing. Printed on the third page of the local section, the ad was in full color and was undeniably eye-catching, if she did say so herself. There were three water rings on it now and a spot where an appetizer—Chelsea’s treat—had dribbled. Ruby had another copy. Okay, three other copies.
The advertisement would run again on Sunday, and then smaller versions would appear each day prior to the Big Night, which was a mere week away. Ruby had butterflies.
She’d been stirring paint for the walls in the ladies’ room this morning when Reed had called to ask her if she’d seen the paper yet. He read the ad on his iPad, but she’d put the lid back on the can and walked to the newsstand around the corner while he described it in detail and told her how effective it was. He was right. Nobody could miss it.
She hadn’t actually seen him since he’d helped her carry the last few boxes of barware into Bell’s on Monday, but they’d hit every circuit on the twenty-first century social media network motherboard.
He’d liked her online ad. He’d sent her information about a new winemaker in the area on LinkedIn. There had been Tweets and texts. One had read, Anything by Springsteen.
She’d answered, One of my favorites, too, but then so is “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” the only song I can still play after three years of piano lessons.
He’d called her to laugh in her ear. That little spot beneath her breastbone had vibrated at the sound of his voice.
A few days later she’d been the one laughing as he’d described the surprise home visit his great-uncle, Judge Ivan-t
he-Terrible Sullivan, had sprung on Reed and Marsh that day. They’d managed to pass inspection despite the fact that no nanny had been hired as of yet; Joey remained in their care.
“What about Jake Nichols?” Abby cut into Ruby’s reverie.
“Who?” Ruby looked at the impossibly forward blonde on the opposite side of the table.
“Jake Nichols is the new veterinarian in town. He’s nice-looking and close to six feet tall. He’d probably attend your reunion with you if you asked, as long as you aren’t sensitive about the fact that he often smells a little like goats.”
Ruby looked to Chelsea for help. “Goats?” Ruby mouthed.
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Chelsea replied.
Oh. Good? Now where was she? Oh, yes. About the reunion. “I told you,” Ruby said to Abby as she speared the last stuffed mushroom on the platter, “I’m attending solo.” She was sorry she’d brought up the subject of her class reunion. It was bad enough that Amanda was like a bloodhound on the trail of an escaped convict and wouldn’t let the subject rest. Now Abby was on the scent, too.
She tucked a wisp of blond hair behind one ear and said, “Our class reunion was last summer. It was a major hookup fest, let me tell you.”
“Oh, great” was all Ruby said. A hookup fest was all she needed.
“Forewarned is forearmed, I always say,” Abby insisted.
“I’ve never heard you say that,” Chelsea said.
“That’s because no one ever listens to me. Most people don’t take petite women seriously. It’s true.”
“So,” Chelsea said, leaning closer to Ruby, pretty much proving Abby’s point. “What does your Peter look like?”
“He’s not my Peter.”
“He’s every girl’s Peter,” Abby countered. “That’s the problem.”
Ruby dropped her face into her paint-speckled hands.
“You did not just say that,” Chelsea reprimanded.
Eye’s sparkling with mischief, Abby mouthed, “Sorry.”
Chelsea, ladylike no matter the subject matter, turned her violet eyes to Ruby and said, “You don’t have to tell us, you know.”
With a shrug, Ruby said, “He was covaledictorian, star quarterback, prom king, voted best looking, best dressed, best catch, best you name it.”
“How good-looking are we talking?” Abby asked.
Ruby straightened her napkin in her lap and said, “If Jude Law and George Clooney had had a younger brother it would have been Peter Powelson.”
“Oh, my,” Abby said.
“Oh, dear,” Chelsea agreed.
“Tell me about it,” Ruby grumbled. “Six-two-and-a-half, thick unruly black hair, cobalt-blue eyes, a washboard stomach, long muscular legs, narrow hips, masculine swagger.”
“You thought you’d make beautiful babies together,” Abby said on a sigh.
“I was a complete idiot over him. I cried in public over him. And then I practically stalked him. I’m not proud, believe me. It was just— He just...”
“Let me guess,” Chelsea said matter-of-factly. “He told you you changed him in that deep man-place in his soul.”
Abby tut-tutted supportively. “And he said it in a midnight-dark whiskey voice and your girl parts did somersaults. Whose wouldn’t?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ruby said, mashing the innocent stuffed mushroom to smithereens on her own plate. “He wants me back. He’s sorry. He insists he’s changed. And he’s told everyone I know back home that he’s going to make his move at the reunion. What if my girl parts, er, you know? I may need a chastity belt.”
“You need a date,” Abby insisted.
“Yes, well,” Ruby said, her gaze straying to the fabulous ad once again. “The reunion’s tomorrow night. I’m not seeing anybody, so—”
“Oh,” Abby said. “Hi, Marsh, Reed. So this is Joey, isn’t it?”
Ruby’s gaze swung to the two men who suddenly appeared at the end of her booth. Marsh wore a T-shirt. Reed’s button-down was tucked neatly into black slacks. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him in faded jeans and a grimy T-shirt. She wondered what he wore when he relaxed. Did he ever relax?
Marsh held the baby carrier today. Perhaps because the little tyke was at her level, she found herself looking at Joey.
He was dressed in red and white and didn’t seem to mind the din of voices and clatter of dishes and silverware. He had a dimple in his chin and an adorable cowlick he was probably going to hate someday. His eyelashes were long and dark—boys always got lashes to die for. He looked everywhere, focusing on nothing, as if in his own little world.
All at once, his gaze landed on Ruby. What followed was a three-and-a-half-month-old’s equivalent of a double take. And then it happened. A moment’s wonder lit his gray-blue eyes—eyes so like Reed’s—his lips twitched and he smiled.
“Hello to you, too,” she said.
As if he had a radar lock on her, his grin widened, all gums and round cheeks and sparkling innocence. No wonder Reed was hoping this baby was his. A nagging worry swirled inside Ruby, the tip touching down like the tail of a tornado deep in her chest.
“What are you two doing Saturday night?” Abby was still talking. And Marsh said something Ruby didn’t catch.
“What about you, Reed? Are you up to making a former quarterback prom king sorry he ever cheated?”
Ruby did a double take of her own. With a dawning understanding, she said, “Abby.” But her voice was still soft from Joey’s smile.
She glanced up at the brothers. Marsh looked perplexed, but Reed waited patiently for Abby to continue.
“I’m asking because Ruby’s attending her high school class reunion on Saturday, and her ex-boyfriend thinks she’s going to let him waltz back into her life, as if he deserves her forgiveness, and, well, she needs a date.”
“I do not need—” Please, she silently implored Abby. Do not mention a chastity belt.
“I might be available,” Reed said. And Ruby swore there was a challenge in his voice.
“Great,” Abby said. “That’s great. Isn’t it great, Ruby?”
Since the maiming look Ruby shot Abby had no noticeable effects, Ruby turned her attention to Reed. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“That’s true, I don’t have to.”
She tried to look away. Couldn’t.
“Will you, though?” Abby asked.
“That depends.” A stare-down ensued, and Reed was winning.
Marsh spoke to his brother and then to the three women before he and Joey followed the hostess to a vacant table. Reed stayed behind, holding his ground and Ruby’s gaze.
“Well?” he said.
“Do you want me to invite you along, is that it?” she asked.
“Are you asking?” he asked.
Her breath caught at his serious expression. Was she? Should she? Did she dare? “I guess I am.”
“All right, then,” he said.
She thought he might voice some old platitude such as that’s what friends are for, or say, “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Instead, he cast another pointed look directly at her then followed the course Marsh had taken.
There was a noticeable hush at Ruby’s table, a pregnant pause straight from an old-fashioned novel, a series of awkward silences that stacked one on top of the other until they teetered precariously, about to topple. Ruby found herself staring at Abby and Chelsea, who were staring back at her in waiting silence.
Finally, Abby whispered, “What was that?”
That, Ruby thought, glancing toward the table near the back of the room where Reed was pulling out a chair, was a polished modern man with a vein of the uncivilized coursing through him. That was the definition of dangerous.
“Apparently,”
she finally said, “that was my date for tomorrow night.”
* * *
Ruby jumped out of bed and stubbed her toe. Hobbling now, she supposed that was one way to cure it of any future relentless buzzing. Although, it wasn’t her toe that needed curing.
She groped for the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Now that she could see where she was going, she limped to her closet and began to flip through the clothes at the back. If she couldn’t sleep, she reasoned, she might as well do something.
She already knew exactly what she was going to wear tomorrow night. She’d bought the dress before moving to Orchard Hill, so there would be no surprises, no guesswork. She’d unzipped the garment bag half an hour ago and taken a look. Hanging it on the hook on the back of the closet door, she lowered the zipper again.
The dress was perfect, that was all there was to it—flirty but not too flirty, feminine but not fussy, short but not too short. Perfect. The neckline dipped low in the front but not too low, and a little lower in the back, where she could get away with it. If she were wearing heels and fine jewelry, it might have been too dressy. But she’d found a shabby-chic necklace, a sash belt and the cutest sandals she’d ever seen. The end result was Caribbean casual, like water and air and the sea.
It wasn’t over the top. It wasn’t too much for a date to her class reunion. Not that it was a real date.
It wasn’t.
There was no need to give the dress, the shoes or the jewelry another thought. There was no reason to give her escort for the evening another thought, either.
She crawled back into bed, the fan whirring, night sounds drifting through her screen. She and Reed had touched base earlier via a few strategic texts. She’d given him the banquet center’s address and a wide window of time in which to arrive. Since she was part of the welcoming committee and planned to go early to help with last-minute details and he had a very tight schedule, she saw no reason to ask him to arrive when she did. Besides, she was spending the night with her parents, and he would return to Orchard Hill immediately after the reunion was over. Consequently, they were driving separately.
She could hardly believe she was doing this. Amanda was thrilled. Ruby felt...a little breathless. And there, just out of reach again, was that nagging doubt in the back of her mind.
A Bride by Summer Page 12