be great to see Derek. They would probably spend the entire evening laughing about old escapades.
When Reed walked into the Grove’s lounge and spotted his friend among the crowd, Derek got up from the small table he had commandeered. Friday night Happy Hour was in full swing, and the place was packed.
“Derek!” They shook hands, then gave each other a quick hug. “Man, it’s good seeing you,” Reed exclaimed as they sat down. “Other than a few phone calls, what’s it been, ten years?”
“Just about.”
“Well, you’re looking mighty prosperous,” Reed said, eyeing Derek’s custom-tailored suit.
“I was going to change, but I didn’t have time.” He waved a waiter over. “Name your poison, Reed.”
After the waiter had gone to get their drinks, Reed looked around. “I haven’t been in here for a while, and I didn’t think about it being Friday night. It’s busy.” He grinned. “And noisy.”
“We’ll survive. So, how’ve you been? Are you married yet?”
“Nope. Are you?”
“For four years now.” Derek pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “The little girl is Merry, my six-month-old daughter, and the boy is Connor, my three-year-old son.” He flipped to another snapshot. “That’s my wife, Elaine.”
Something heavy invaded Reed’s system. He spoke quietly, seriously. “You have a beautiful family, Derek.”
“I sure do.” He looked at his wife’s photo a moment, then closed his wallet and returned it to his inside jacket pocket. “How come you’re still single? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re still changing girls like I change shirts.”
Reed cleared his throat. “I think I’ve heard something like that said about me before.”
“But you know I was only kidding, don’t you?”
“Yeah, so is everyone else. Derek, I think I might have finally met the right woman, but she won’t give me the time of day. I’ve pretty much given up on her.”
“Don’t.”
Their drinks were delivered, and after tapping their glasses together, they each took a swallow and set them down.
“Don’t what?” Reed asked, picking up the thread of their conversation. “Don’t notice that she can’t seem to stand the sight of me?”
“If I’d given up on Elaine, I’d be the sorriest bag of bones practicing law in the whole darn country,” Derek said. “She was a tough nut to crack, believe me. Independent as hell, full of idealistic notions about her public relations career, haughty as a queen looking down on her subjects and not one bit interested in a lovesick attorney. I came close to giving up on her two or three times, but she was just about all I could think of. I went to sleep at night thinking about her and woke up in the morning the same way. If this gal is anywhere close to that important to you, then don’t even consider calling it quits. Dust off your sense of humor and make her laugh, if nothing else works. Women like guys who make them laugh.”
“You’re some kind of expert on the subject now?” Reed said dryly.
“Sort of,” Derek answered with an amused glint in his dark eyes.
Their banter on the subject of women went back and forth, then it was time for dinner. That was when they discussed Derek’s law practice and Reed’s diverse interests. Derek was impressed that his old pal was Rumor’s fire chief, and he listened intently while Reed related the details of the summer’s destructive forest fire.
They lingered over coffee for hours and talked about everything that had happened to each of them from college graduation to the present. The dining room began closing at eleven, and Reed noticed Derek yawning.
“This has been great, Derek.” He got to his feet. “Any chance of your coming back to Billings anytime soon?”
“Who knows? If I do, I’ll let you know. Do you ever get to the East Coast?”
“Not for years.”
“Well, if you ever do…”
“I’ll let you know.”
Derek walked Reed out to his SUV. They shook hands and said goodbye. Reed drove away feeling nostalgic and quietly content. The evening had been great. Derek had matured, as Reed had. They still enjoyed the same kind of humor and thought alike on a variety of subjects.
But Derek was happily married, and Reed wasn’t even close. Dust off your sense of humor and make her laugh.
“Hmm,” Reed murmured, his eyes on the highway ahead. Maybe it was worth a try, even though Val didn’t strike him as a woman who laughed a lot. Of course, considering her recent health problems, she had damn good reason for not giggling at every little thing.
Truth was, though, Reed couldn’t recall ever having seen or heard her giggling. Nor could he imagine Dr. Valerie Fairchild doing any giggling. She wasn’t the giggling type. If and when she laughed, it would undoubtedly be a pleasant, throaty sound. He really would love to hear it.
And maybe he had an idea that would at least bring a smile to her beautiful lips.
Reed swallowed hard. He would rather kiss Val’s luscious lips than see a smile on them.
But first things first. Smiles were immeasurably valuable in a hundred ways and certainly crucial to a close relationship. If he could get her to smile, to laugh, then things might fall into place for them. It definitely was worth a try.
On Saturday morning Val and Jim were both busy. People and pets were coming and going, and Val was functioning as she used to, full speed ahead and enjoying her work. Things slowed down around noon, and she went to her office to eat the lunch that Estelle had brought over from the house.
Jim was dubious about his and Estelle’s plans to leave early, but Val reassured him. “I’m certain the rush is over. Thanks for being here on a weekend. In fact, I’m going to lock the doors behind you and enjoy my lunch. If anyone comes along this afternoon, they’ll have to ring the bell. It’s time I got some of that stacked-up paperwork done.”
After the Worths left, Val sat at her desk feeling relatively content. Lunch was good, and she looked through the pile of letters, trade journals and advertisements overflowing her In basket while she ate. Until the unknown cost of those delivered groceries from MonMart nagged at her. She pondered her options and grimaced at the idea of phoning MonMart and then talking to a dozen different people while they tried to pinpoint one particular grocery order and who had paid for it. If anyone had paid for it, actually. Maybe MonMart had some sort of slush fund for miscellaneous charitable expenses, she mused. It made a certain amount of sense, but she didn’t want to be considered a charity case, especially not when one considered the ridiculous circumstances that had caused her to leave behind her cartful of food.
In fact, it was such a distasteful idea that she quickly got out her checkbook and began writing a check. But what amount should she send MonMart? Food didn’t come cheap, and five large paper sacks had been delivered. Twenty dollars per sack? Twenty-five?
She
