the window lurched, stopping three inches from the top.
Leaning over, Ginny pitched her voice through the opening. “I thought I’d pick up groceries. Maybe stop by Uncle Emile’s. There’s something important I need to discuss with him.”
“Nonsense, you can do that tomorrow.” Mom and Lori disappeared into the house.
No such luck with Rick. He hunched next to her window until their eyes were level. “I can fix that switch if you like.”
Rain dribbled off his umbrella and found its way through the gap in the window.
She rammed her thumb onto the button, but the window wouldn’t budge. Not up. Not down. Why couldn’t he just go away?
Rick opened the car door and offered her a hand. “You go in and dish up the pie Lori promised me, and I’ll take care of this window.” Humor lit his eyes, and was that a … a …?
“Are you laughing?” Laughing? “Oh, you have some nerve, pal. If you knew what kind of month I’ve had, you wouldn’t be laughing. I can’t afford any more car repairs.” Not when she needed every spare dime to pay for Mom’s medicine.
“Lucky for you I want to help then.”
“Hello? I—don’t—want—your—help! I want you gone.”
She reached for the handle, but Rick hunkered between the door and her seat, blocking her attempt to shut him out. He covered her hand with his, and for one second, maybe two, she lost herself in the warmth. Forgetting the rain. Forgetting her mom and sister waiting inside. Forgetting why she shouldn’t lean into his embrace.
Then she remembered who he was, or rather wasn’t, and snatched her hand away. Everything he did was an act to get what he wanted.
He stepped back and held the door open. “We need to talk before you have that conversation with your uncle, so how about some hot chocolate to go with that pie?”
“Oh sure, that’s exactly what I should give you—like a stray puppy, so you’ll stick around. Pul-lease.”
A full-blown grin dimpled his cheeks and Ginny bolted for the covered porch before he obliterated her resolve.
On the street, a boxy gray car—like the one she’d noticed trolling the neighborhood earlier tonight—slowed. Come to think of it, the car looked a lot like the one that had been idling outside the town hall. She leaned over the porch rail for a better look and the car raced off.
Suddenly grateful for Rick’s solid presence, Ginny glanced toward her car.
Inside, Rick had settled into the driver’s seat and his fingers grazed the dove ornament dangling from the rearview mirror, his touch almost reverent. Was he remembering the day he gave it to her?
A soaring dove to remind you God is watching over you when I can’t be, he’d said.
How she’d cherished his words. Maybe he did know how special he’d once made her feel. With him, her words sparkled, her dreams grew vivid, her hopes became tangible.
He made her believe she could be more than …
“Ginny?” Lori’s frantic call cut through the brick and glass.
Ginny trudged inside and hung her wet jacket on the coat tree.
The sweet smell of hot chocolate hung in the air, and Ginny didn’t know why she was surprised. Mom had always had a chameleonlike ability to transform from a wasted alcoholic to Suzie Homemaker in the time it took a social worker to get from the driveway to the door.
Ginny hurried to the kitchen, picking up scattered socks and shoes along the way.
Lori was digging through the freezer and Mom stood at the stove stirring a pot of hot chocolate. But neither had noticed the crumbs and ketchup smeared across the vinyl tablecloth.
Ginny grabbed a wet rag. Appliances and abandoned mail cluttered the countertops, and thanks to the ripped screen in the window above the sink, the fly strip hanging over the table had no vacancies.
“Where’s Rick?” Mom chirped.
“His name is Duke.” Ginny traded the dishrag for a knife and jabbed the center of the pie her friend Kim’s mom had given them. “How can you trust a guy who changes his name for no good reason?”
“I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation. Why don’t you ask him? He’ll tell you.”
“What makes you think I want an explanation?” Ginny snapped as her insides crumbled like the pastry under her knife. She’d waited for months, hoping he’d come back, but he hadn’t, which only proved she hadn’t meant as much to him as he had to her. Another reason she needed him off this project.
Rick stood on the Bryson porch waiting to be let in. His damp clothes clung to him like the doubts Ginny had dredged up. Perhaps he could finesse his way into Mrs. Bryson’s good graces. She might be just the ally he needed to convince Ginny to trust him.
The Bryson’s front door burst open and Lori tugged him into the living room.
The place hadn’t changed much. The bright orange globe suspended from the ceiling cast a cheerful glow over the room. Tattered love seats sat kitty-corner to one another, facing the picture window on one side and a blazing gas fireplace on the other. Homey. Lived in. A haven.
“Rick. Play checkers,” Lori pleaded.
In the flowery skirt and snug sweater, she looked like a woman, but inside, she was still the fun-loving girl he remembered. “Call me Duke, okay?”
She pushed out her lips and scrutinized him like he’d grown a second nose instead of a moustache. “You Rick.” The wide space between her eyes crumpled, and his conscience took another beating.
“Yes, my name is Rick, but it’s fun to pretend. Remember when you used to pretend you were a princess? Well, a duke is like a prince.” He took her hand and bowed. “You can be a princess, and I’ll be Duke.”
As though the orange globe had transformed into a glittering chandelier, Lori’s eyes lit and she twirled around the coffee table like a princess in a flowing gown. “Okay, Duke.”
Mrs. Bryson watched him with guarded eyes. She’d become a mere ghost of the woman he’d once known, and the yellow cast to her complexion had nothing to do with the funky orange light shade. He should’ve been here for them.
She must’ve sensed his concern because her reserve mellowed. “It’s cancer.” She dropped her gaze. “I am getting better.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Lori elbowed between them and tugged Rick toward the sofa. “Date Ginny?”
“I don’t think Ginny wants me back, sweetie.”
“Yes, do. She your picture. Me show.” Lori skipped down the hallway. Before he could relish her enlightening bit of news, Mrs. Bryson took over the interrogation.
“Why did you change your name?”
