week,” she responded.
“Then you know.”
“That he’s married and about to be a father? Yes.”
“What’s all this about James converting to Catholicism?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself.” She paused, wondering why he’d brought up that particular aspect of their son’s news. “You’re not upset about it, are you?” Olivia would be astonished if he was. Stan had never been too concerned with religion; he didn’t object when she attended worship services or brought the children, but it wasn’t something that interested him. Sunday mornings were for golf games, in his view.
“I couldn’t care less,” he said. “I’m just surprised.”
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “He sounds happy, don’t you think? When did you speak to him?”
Stan hesitated. “Just a few minutes ago. He seemed to be in a rush so I figured I’d get the story from you.”
Her ex-husband apparently believed she knew more than she did. “I’m not sure what to tell you. Our son is married and we’re both about to become grandparents for the first time.”
Stan chuckled, sounding slightly chagrined. “I was beginning to doubt that was ever going to happen.”
The tension left her and she smiled. The circumstances weren’t what she would have preferred, but she was absolutely delighted at the prospect of a grandchild.
“I suppose you’re going to spoil that baby rotten.”
“I certainly plan to,” she said. But Stan was the indulgent one, and they both knew it.
“I wish James had been a bit more forthcoming with the details,” he muttered.
Olivia concurred. “I’ve decided to fly down once the baby’s born and meet Selina and her family and welcome her to ours.”
“Good idea. I cut a five-hundred-dollar check as a wedding gift.”
Stan had always been excessively generous and she said so. “I sent flowers,” she added ruefully. “I’ll bring a real wedding gift when I visit.”
“He’s the first one of the kids to marry—and he’s expecting a baby. It was the least I could do.”
The doorbell chimed and Olivia was surprised to realize they’d been talking for fifteen minutes. “That’s my dinner date,” she said.
“You’re dating?” There was no jealousy in the question, just curiosity.
Olivia laughed softly. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m not. Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“Jack Griffin. He’s new in town.”
“Don’t keep him waiting, then.”
“Goodbye, Stan. It was good to talk to you.”
“You, too, Olivia, and listen…”
“Yes?” she said, eager to get off the phone.
“Have a good time. You deserve a decent man in your life.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and replaced the receiver. She glanced down at the phone, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush of regret. They’d had a good marriage once…. The divorce had been final years ago, but she’d never stopped loving Stan. They’d had their problems—every marriage did—only she’d believed that the bond between them was strong enough to survive a crisis. Unfortunately she’d been wrong. Still, she’d always feel connected to him; they shared children and a history, and nothing could change that.
She hurried to answer the door. Jack stood there, looking the same way he did every time she saw him. He wore a raincoat, black slacks and a blue shirt with the top two buttons left unfastened. She was beginning to wonder if he owned more than one set of clothes.
“Ah,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her. “You look fabulous. Wow.”
Assuming something formal, Olivia had gone to a lot of trouble. The navy blue wool dress was new; the straight skirt was a flattering mid-calf length, and the bodice, decorated with a row of gold buttons, was formfitting. She purposely wore heels and dark hosiery, contrasting the outfit with the pearls her father had bought in Japan fifty years ago.
“Am I overdressed?” She asked the obvious. They hadn’t discussed where they’d be dining.
“No,” he said. “I’m underdressed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where are we going for dinner?” She should have asked much sooner.
Looking embarassed, he told her, “I was thinking about the Taco Shack.”
The restaurant, on the highway outside town, was a roadhouse of sorts, where patrons ordered at the counter and served themselves. The food was some of the best in the area; it was also fast and cheap. The salsa was freshly made every day and known all over the county.
“I’ll change,” Olivia offered quickly, and left the room before Jack could protest. So much for a hot date. She’d been thinking they’d linger over wine and candlelight, and he’d envisioned tacos and margaritas. Fortunately she was a flexible person.
When she returned, Olivia had changed into blue-green plaid wool slacks and a matching green turtleneck sweater. “That’s better,” she said, hoping to put him at ease.
“You don’t mind?”
“I love the Taco Shack,” she assured him, and it was the truth. She should’ve known better than to expect fine French dining. Jack was a taco kind of guy.
He looked vastly relieved as he led the way to his vehicle. She could tell he’d made an effort to clean off the front seat of his car; he’d tossed everything in the back, which was littered with wadded-up bags from fast-food establishments, old newspapers, books and a variety of other junk she didn’t get a chance to see.
Jack seemed oblivious to it all. By nature, Olivia was neat and orderly. One look at his Ford Taurus told her Jack Griffin was her exact opposite.
Olivia had to fumble with her seat belt before she managed to secure it. It was obvious he didn’t often have anyone riding with him.
“Have you ever had the stir-fried jalapeños at the Shack?” he asked as they headed out of town.
“You can stir-fry them?” Olivia asked, thinking that sounded more like Chinese cooking than Mexican.
“Sure. Just until the skins start to blister. Then they squeeze lime juice over top, sprinkle on seasoned salt—and serve them with plenty of water.”
“You eat whole jalapeños?”
“You don’t?”
Olivia enjoyed a bit of spice now and then, but she wasn’t interested in experiencing pain as part of her
