scanned the room for an empty table. She didn’t look nervous, just patient...and yet, inexplicably, Jude had a sudden impression of her as terribly alone.
Impulsively, he waved at her and called her over. He did need to get home. But at least he could say hi, maybe introduce her to a couple of people. And she could have his table.
To his surprise, she flushed when she saw him. But, after a slight hesitation, she moved toward him, her coat over her arm.
“Hi,” she said. “Nice to see you. Don’t let me... I mean, don’t let me interrupt your dinner.”
“You’re not,” he said. “I just finished. Besides, I was hoping we’d run into each other. I wanted to tell you how much better my back is feeling.”
She smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” She hugged her coat awkwardly and looked around once more, as if hoping an empty table would magically appear. Instead, her gaze stopped as she recognized Esther Fillmore. Jude saw the older woman give Tess the evil eye, apparently for being new in town. Alton shook his head subtly, as if trying to calm his wife. But Alton was no match for the crotchety old broad, and she didn’t even blink.
“Don’t mind Esther,” Jude said, quietly conspiratorial. “Her face always looks like she sucked a lemon. I first saw that expression when I was seven and sneaked a soda into the library.”
Tess glanced at him, as if uncertain whether she ought to laugh. “She’s Silverdell’s librarian?”
“Yep. But don’t worry. Silverdell has a bookstore, too. Fanny Bronson owns it, and she’s much easier to get along with.”
“Then I guess I’ll be buying my books while I’m here.” Tess smiled, finally. “If I get the job, that is.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you do,” he said. He didn’t want to raise her hopes, but judging from what Mari had said, it seemed a shoo-in. And he had this ridiculous sense that she needed cheering.
“Really? Have you heard something?”
“No. But word is you got a wildly enthusiastic recommendation for your working massage.”
She flushed again. “Thank you. That was very nice of you. But really, I mustn’t keep you. I thought I’d get dinner, but obviously they’re packed. Maybe I’ll grab something and take it back to my hotel.”
“No. Stay.” Jude heard the words come out before he could stop them. “Donovan’s has great food, and it would be a shame not to eat it warm from the oven. It would be half frozen if you tried to take it across town in this weather. I could—”
At the last minute, he pulled himself from the brink. What was he thinking? He couldn’t keep Tess company, no matter how “alone” he imagined her to be.
He had obligations at home. Molly always got depressed come sundown, especially if she’d been alone with the baby all day. Or if Garth had called, trying to get her to come home. When it snowed she was even worse. Like a form of cabin fever, Jude sometimes thought, though the doctor had a fancier term: postpartum depression.
But it didn’t leave much room for Jude to have a life, did it? And right now, when he was standing at the most important fork in the road he’d ever faced...
A shimmer of frustration passed through him—followed immediately by a wave of disgust with himself for being so selfish. Molly hadn’t timed her illness, or her marital problems, to annoy him. She couldn’t help that Garth was an abusive bum, or that her post-baby chemistry had gone out of whack.
“Here’s the soup!” Marianne bustled out of the kitchen. She didn’t see Tess at first, concentrating on wrestling a large biodegradable to-go bowl into a paper bag. “If this doesn’t perk Molly up, nothing will.”
She extended the bag. But as she looked up and noticed that he wasn’t alone, her eyes widened.
“Hi, there,” she said warmly, her gaze sweeping over Tess like a computer scan, missing nothing. “Welcome to Donovan’s! I’m sorry...shall I get this table cleared off, or are you here to pick up Jude?”
Tess hesitated, obviously still undecided about whether she’d stay, but the alternative, that she’d come to pick Jude up, was equally untrue.
Jude took the soup and stood. “Mari, this is Tess Spencer. I told her she could have my table, but she said she might order takeout.”
“Oh, no! On a night like this?” As she spoke, Marianne flicked one quick look toward Jude that asked the important question—the Tess?—and received her answer in a fraction of a second. Satisfied, she reached for a bright green menu and handed it to Tess. Then she deftly began piling dishes and debris onto a tray.
“I do hope I can talk you into staying. We have some wonderful comfort food, perfect for a cold December night.”
Her tray full, she balanced it with one hand and pulled out a chair for Tess with the other. “Sit while you look at the menu. Jude can tell you what’s good.”
Tess sat, draping her coat across her lap. But she remained on the edge of the seat, back erect, as if unready to commit to staying. Across from her, the companion chair seemed conspicuously empty, like a question spoken aloud. Was he going to join her, or not?
Well, was he?
He wanted to. In fact, he was surprised how strong the urge to sit was. It felt like a magnetic pull. He’d love to talk to her, to find out more about her, and at the same time provide a buffer between her and the avid curiosity radiating from the Dellians around the room.
But why did he think she needed a buffer? The curiosity was mostly a result of him talking to her. He knew all too well how much gossip he’d caused by coming home, and how many people speculated on what had happened between him and Haley in Los Angeles.
If he wanted Tess to be less conspicuous, the best thing he could do was leave. No one here was going to accost her. He took inventory. None of the more rambunctious young men of Silverdell were here, and none of the unhappily married drinkers, either. In fact, the only unhappily married man in the room was Alton Fillmore, and if he ever got mad enough to hassle a woman, surely it would be his witchy wife.
Besides, Dallas was the sheriff, and he’d make sure everyone behaved. Tess was hardly in danger of anything but an hour or two of loneliness.
This alone thing was probably entirely a figment of his imagination. She’d entered the restaurant with the express intent of eating by herself. Maybe she’d even been looking forward to some privacy.
He studied her, wondering whether the pink on her cheekbones meant she hoped he’d stay—or was praying he’d go.
As if she felt his gaze, she looked up from the menu. “So...what’s good?”
“Everything,” he said. Molly would just have to wait a few more minutes. “And that’s not an exaggeration. In fact...”
He had just scraped the chair back from the table, as if to sit, when his cell phone chirped softly in his pocket. For a split second, he considered ignoring it.
But he didn’t, of course. Even if it were only another pseudo-emergency, it was real to Molly, and Jude was all she had. He
