I miss my family….”
Reaching across the booth, Colette touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.
Steve nodded. “So am I. Being a cop’s wife isn’t easy. You know that. I always admired the open, honest relationship you had with Derek. That’s one reason I was hoping to talk to you.”
Not sure what to say, Colette glanced down. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“You were a good wife.”
Her throat thickened with grief—and guilt, because it was Christian who dominated her thoughts these days, not Derek.
“Colette?”
“Sorry,” she said, plucking a napkin from the canister on the table.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” She lifted her head in surprise.
“I know this must come out of the blue, but would it be all right if I phoned you sometime?” Steve said quickly.
“I …” Colette felt flustered and uncertain. “Sure, I … guess.” This wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. It’d been years since she’d dated. That was obviously true for Steve, as well; he looked as uncomfortable as she did. If they were to start seeing each other, she’d have to tell him about the pregnancy. And yet, it seemed wrong for Steve to know and not Christian.
Suddenly he smiled and she saw him as the attractive man he was—not just Derek’s friend and one of a social foursome. His features were classic with a square jaw that suggested he could be stubborn, as well as determined. His dark brown eyes were perhaps a bit small and slightly close together, but that didn’t bother her. His hair was thick and well-groomed. He’d always looked good in a uniform and even more so in a suit. He exuded an authority that people instinctively respected. She remembered Derek’s saying that Steve had spent time in the marines.
“Are you doing anything this evening?” he asked, then laughed gruffly. “I don’t mean to rush you. It’s just that I’ve been lonely, and I like the idea of having someone to talk to.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a book club meeting this evening.” She considered skipping it but Anne Marie, the bookstore manager, had asked her to attend. This was the first session, so Colette felt obliged to keep her word.
Steve seemed disappointed. “Okay, I understand.”
“You could join us if you’d like,” she added, not wanting to discourage him. “I doubt everyone’s read the book, anyway.”
“You think it’d be all right?”
“I’m sure it’d be fine,” she said, warming to the idea. This wouldn’t be a real date. They’d be around other people, and conversation would focus on the story, not on them.
“I don’t remember you as a reader,” he commented, going back to his burger. “Jeanine always had a book in her hand.”
“I used to read quite a bit. After Derek died I couldn’t for the longest time. No matter how gripping the story, my attention wandered. It was all I could do to scan the newspaper and do the crossword puzzle.” In an entire year, she hadn’t finished a single puzzle. “But now, thanks to this book, I’m reading again.”
“What’s different about it?”
“I guess the story strikes close to home for me. It’s about a widow adjusting to life without her husband. The title is Good Grief, and it’s by a writer named Lolly Winston. It’s very moving and surprisingly funny, and I really enjoyed it.”
Colette had met the bookstore manager, who’d recommended the book, by accident. Anne Marie had been walking Baxter, her Yorkshire terrier, and the tiny dog had gotten his leash wrapped around Colette’s ankles. When Anne Marie learned that Colette lived above the yarn store, she’d invited her over for tea. Her own apartment was above Blossom Street Books; in other words, they were neighbors. Colette liked Anne Marie and had agreed to join the discussion group, especially after she’d read the book.
“Good Grief,” Steve repeated.
“I identified with how the widow felt. At one point she goes to work in her pajamas and housecoat. I laughed out loud and at the same time I was weeping because … well, there were days like that for me, too, especially at first.”
Steve nodded and was about to speak when his cell phone rang. He automatically reached for it and snapped it open. “Grisham,” he said in a terse voice, instantly the professional.
Colette ate a little more of her soup but after the latte her appetite was gone. She really should be getting back to the shop; she was already five minutes late and still had a brisk walk ahead of her.
Steve closed the cell and clipped it back to his waistband. “I have to go.”
“Me, too.” She picked up her purse.
“Listen, I’d better take a rain check on tonight,” he said and slid out of the booth. “Work intrudes.” He scooped up the tab and headed over to the cashier.
Colette found a pen at the counter and wrote out her cell number on a napkin, then handed it to him.
He smiled and thanked her. Colette went back to Susannah’s Garden in a good mood. The clouds had lifted in more ways than one and she felt as if her life was finally taking shape.
That euphoric sensation didn’t last long, however. When she walked into the shop, the first person she saw was Christian Dempsey, drumming his fingers on the counter.
Colette felt her heart plummet. She could hear Susannah on the phone in the back room—which meant there was no one to rescue her. “What are you doing here?” she muttered.
“I’ve come to order flowers.”
“A special occasion?”
“Not really. They’re for a woman.”
Colette should’ve guessed. “You couldn’t do it by phone?”
“I prefer to order them in person.”
She understood his intent. He wanted her to know he was seeing someone else now. Fine. Message received. In her opinion, he was acting both vindictive and immature.
“And while I was here, I thought I’d see how you were doing.”
“I’m busy,” she returned stiffly. “Actually, I have a date myself.” She found herself stretching the truth, but Steve had asked her out, and even if it wasn’t possible that evening, she would eventually be seeing him.
Her blatant attempt to discourage Christian didn’t seem to be working. “With whom?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s an old friend of my husband’s.” She turned her back to him and removed her jacket.
His smile had vanished when she turned around. “Does this so-called friend have a name?”
“Of
