his glass to her and took a drink. She joined him.
This socializing business could get long and painful, trying to be polite and having absolutely nothing to talk about. Or he’d finish his drink and get up and leave, and could she blame him Someone had to start a conversation, so it may as well be her.
“What are your kids’ names?”
“Chloe and Patrick.” His face immediately lit up. “She’s ten and he’s twelve. Great kids.” He got out his smartphone and found their pictures. She admired the bright smiles and happy eyes. Both children had their father’s eyes.
“You have kids?” he asked.
“No. I’m not married.” Well, that hadn’t stopped her mother.
He sat for a few moments, pondering her answer. “So tell me,” he said, “what was it like, growing up in Boston?”
Yeah, they really didn’t have a thing to talk about.
“Actually, I’m a south shore girl. I grew up in Kingston, which is close to Plymouth. My mom and I lived with my grandmother.” She left out the part about her mom cleaning houses for the rich ladies of Duxbury, and how she could never afford to move the two of them out on their own. “I guess it’s like growing up any other place.”
“What does ‘south shore’ mean?”
“That I grew up south of Boston. Now, I guess, since I had the opportunity to open the community clinic and move to Everett, you could call me a ‘north shore’ girl.”
He gave her a blank stare. She was failing miserably as a pub buddy.
“In my heart I’ll always be a south shore girl, I guess.” She wanted to squirm, his lack of interest was so noticeable. What was the first rule of socialization? People loved to talk about themselves. Ask him a question.
“What part of California are you from?”
“L.A.”
“Are you the only doctor in your family?”
“Yes. Mom was a teacher and Dad ran a small business in Echo Park. My brother’s a fireman.”
So he hadn’t come from money, like she’d assumed. See, asking questions always helped break the ice.
They chatted about his upbringing, having to yell back and forth in order to be heard over the ever-increasing Friday-night crowd at the pub as they finished their drinks.
“You feel like some coffee?” he said. “The noise is getting to me.”
Surprised by his invitation, she nodded. “Sounds good.” She wasn’t ready to be alone with her morbid thoughts, which had subsided while engaged in small talk with Jared.
Jared watched Kasey as she exited the pub. She’d worn straight-legged jeans rolled up at the ankles, candy-apple red flats, a matching blouse with ruffles down the front, which accentuated her bust, and an oatmeal-colored extra-long sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The street lights made all the loose hair around her head look like a halo. He liked the shape of her face, didn’t even mind the batch of earrings on both ears or the Boston accent. It was cute and not whiny, like some of the women he’d heard since moving east. Maybe it had to do with the south-shore versus north-shore girl bit, but what did he know?
She was different from most women he’d been around lately, too. After giving it some thought, he decided it was because of a decided lack of pretentiousness. She seemed grounded, wanted to work with the folks who needed her the most, and she wasn’t seduced by the almighty dollar like so many people in his life. Hell, like him.
Two doors down he found the local coffee bar, and held the door open for her. She seemed a little unstable on her feet—maybe he shouldn’t have bought her that last beer—so he guided her by the elbow to an empty table. “What do you drink?”
She rattled off her latte order, tagging on fat-free milk. He made the order and waited for the drinks while she went to the bathroom. When they met up back at the table, he could tell she’d brushed her hair and put on more lipstick, and wondered if she’d done it for him. The thought, whether true or not, pleased him.
They shared a few sips of coffee in silence. She seemed tense, and he figured it was because she felt stuck with him. He didn’t feel the same. In fact, he was glad to have someone to talk to and wished he could make her relax. Truth was, if she couldn’t settle down after a couple of beers, there was no helping her.
“I got some pumpkin bread,” he said. “Want to share?”
She smiled and took half. “Thanks.” She was generous with her smiles, and he liked that.
“Can I get your opinion about something?” he said, just before popping a pinch of bread into his mouth.
She blew over her cup and nodded. “Sure.”
“Do you think little girls should be allowed to dress like small adults?”
Obviously, this wasn’t the turn she’d expected the conversation to take. She pulled in her chin and thought for a second or two. “No. As a matter of fact, I resent little kids looking better in the latest styles than I do.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad my kids’ private school has a dress code, because sometimes I think Chloe’s taste in clothes is far beyond her years.”
“Sounds like a sore spot.”
“Yeah. I don’t like to argue with her about it. As long as she dresses within reason, I’m okay, but sometimes she looks like a tiny adult.” He grinned. “That’s when I pull out the phone and take her picture, text it to my ex and let her weigh in on the outfit. If she approves, I keep my trap shut, but sometimes, well, let’s just say I miss my girl in her overalls and flowered T-shirts, you know?”
He wasn’t trying to impress Kasey or anything, but he caught a look of longing in her eyes, as if she really dug guys who worried about their daughters. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, noticing a touch of confusion in her expressive eyes. “The divorce.”
“So you didn’t divorce purely on shopaholic grounds?” Her knowing gaze told him he hadn’t fooled her for a minute back at the bar.
He offered a humble smile. “Maybe the fact I was never around, always working on developing my private practice, had something to do with her turning to shopping. I guess it filled a void but, damn, practically every penny I made she spent.”
“Did you guys seek counseling?”
He nodded. “Too little, too late. I wish my ex well and all, I’d just like to have more say in my kids’ lives.”
“You should have input since you’re their dad.”
He gave her an earnest smile before he took another drink. She seemed surprised by it, with a quick yet subtle double-take before returning his smile.
“Thanks for being honest,” she said, popping another bite of pumpkin bread into her mouth. “We’ve all got problems. Sometimes we need to get them off our chest. Not that I’m asking you to unload all your
