her husband had died. He just seemed to be more nervous around Andrea than he’d anticipated.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have implied anything.”
“No, you should not have!” Andrea turned away. In a second she sent him another resentful look. “And I am not a snob. You’re incredibly rude, which, when I recall the past, you always were.”
“Rude, vexing Keith,” he whispered with a dramatic sigh. He had to get over it, he knew, and forced himself to lighten up and ask, “How did you ever put up with me for so many years?”
Andrea decided they were both going too far. If it hadn’t been for the din of so many conversations plus background music, their dinner companions would already easily have overheard them. She didn’t want to cause more gossip, since she was positive it was already occurring all around their table. It was better just to ignore Keith as much as she could.
Dishes were cleared away for the next course and Andrea looked up to see Laura Edwards, a waitress from the Royal Diner, working at another table. Laura wasn’t a friend, but Andrea knew her from stopping into the diner occasionally to indulge in one of Manny, the cook’s, fabulous hamburgers. The diner itself was an assault on one’s senses with its red vinyl décor and smoke-stained walls and ceiling, but there was no question about Manny’s burgers being the best in town.
Something about Laura tonight gave Andrea pause. The woman looked pale, pinched and—was haunted the right word for that wary, frightened expression on Laura’s face? Or perhaps hunted was more appropriate. After a few moments of watching the waitress at work, and pondering her unusual demeanor, it occurred to Andrea that Laura looked exactly like the terrified women who came to New Hope’s shelter to escape abuse!
Andrea pushed back her chair. “Please excuse me,” she murmured to the table in general. Keith leaped up and the other men started to rise, also. Andrea smiled her thanks at them and walked toward the Ladies’ Lounge sign. As planned, she intercepted Laura on her way to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes.
“Laura, hello,” she said. “I’d like to speak to you. Can you take a minute?”
“Oh, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Laura said in recognition. “It would have to be only a minute…we’re all real busy…but let me get rid of this tray first.”
“Of course. Can you meet me in the ladies’ lounge?”
“Employees aren’t supposed to use that facility, but I’ll tell the boss that you asked to see me about something. That should clear it.”
“Good. See you shortly.” Andrea continued on to the lounge and Laura disappeared into the kitchen. Andrea was touching up her lipstick in front of a long beveled mirror over a pink marble counter—pink marble was the last thing she might have expected to see anywhere within the confines of this otherwise blatantly male retreat—when the door opened and Laura slipped silently into the room.
Andrea turned from the mirror. “Thanks. Laura, I can see from the look in your eyes and on your face that something is seriously wrong. I’m sure you’re aware of my connection to New Hope and of the good the organization does for battered and abused women. You can talk to me, Laura. Nothing you say would ever be repeated, except perhaps to a counselor at the center, and only with your permission.”
Laura was visibly squirming, obviously taken by surprise. “It…it’s not that, Mrs. O’Rourke.”
“Call me Andrea. I know how hard it is to talk about certain troubles, Laura, but if you’re in an abusive relationship you really must get out of it. I can help. New Hope can help.”
Laura wouldn’t quite meet her eyes and something sighed within Andrea. It happened so often. Too many abused women simply couldn’t speak of their torment and suffering until it got too horrible to bear. Andrea couldn’t spot any bruises on Laura, but some men beat their women in places that were ordinarily covered by clothing. And then, too, emotional bruising wasn’t visible.
Andrea reached into her small handbag for a business card, which she put in Laura’s hand. “Please call me if you ever need to talk, Laura,” she said gently. “Along with New Hope’s number, my home number is on this card. Call anytime, day or night.”
“Thank you,” Laura said hoarsely, slipping the card into a pocket of her uniform. “I…I really have to get back to work.”
“I understand.” Andrea smiled. “I wish I knew what to say to put a smile on your face.”
“You’re a kind person.” Laura smiled a little before hurrying out.
Andrea sighed again. That wan, mirthless smile that Laura had attempted spoke volumes, but the subject matter could only be guessed at. Obviously the woman was miserably unhappy over something, but was that something a man? An abusive man?
Leaving the ladies’ lounge, Andrea returned to her table.
Three hours later Keith walked her to the waiting limousine. The check made out to New Hope Charity in Andrea’s purse was such a generous sum that she had let its many zeroes influence her normal good judgment and had stayed at the ball much longer than she’d intended. Yes, she had even danced, with Keith and with several other men, and she regretted playing the social butterfly now because Keith was insistent about seeing her home.
“I’ll just ride along, walk you to your door to make sure you get home safe and sound, and then leave.”
Keith had been honestly concerned about Dorian forcing that introduction to Andrea, although Dorian must have left immediately after. Keith had watched all evening for him and had also alerted his friends to Dorian’s presence and intrusion, so they’d been watching, as well. But just because he’d vanished from the ball didn’t lessen Keith’s concern about Andrea going home alone.
She, of course, only saw Keith’s insistence as more attention than she wanted from him. “Please,” she said. “I’m exhausted and I don’t need anyone walking me to my door. I’ve lived alone for five years. I go home by myself after dark all the time.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Nonsense.” Andrea extended her hand for a handshake. “Let’s say good-night here, and thank you again for a most generous donation.”
His dark eyes bored into her. “I’d rather kiss you than shake your hand.”
She sucked in a sudden sharp breath. “Don’t, Keith! You and I are not going to take up where we left off twenty years ago.”
“Eighteen years, and why aren’t we? Give me ten good reasons.”
“I’ll give you one. I don’t want to. Good night.” Andrea got into the limousine, the chauffeur closed the door and hurried around to the driver’s door, and they drove off. Andrea looked out the back window and saw Keith standing there, watching, just watching. He looked disappointed and…worried? Why on earth would he be worrying about her?
Turning around to face front, she put her head back and told herself that she didn’t care what was going on with him. They weren’t friends or lovers, merely very old acquaintances, and she had absolutely no desire to change the status quo. He had his world, she had hers, and it was best that they each stay within the boundaries they had been living within for many years. Why he would suddenly want to cross over
