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IN THE FADING ILLINOIS TWILIGHT, Melissa Malone’s right thumb spun the wristwatch minute hand backward. Despite a prayer, the rewind couldn’t erase memories of ex-boyfriend Attorney Mark Brooks. When her gaze lifted from the 18-karet Everose-gold-encircled dial, she gasped. Mark scurried with long strides in her direction along the cedar-mulched garden path beneath The Abbey bell tower? Molars crunched a green-striped breath mint; it’s aftertaste as unpleasant as the expected confrontation.
“Refusing my invitation was rude,” Mark snarled. “I bought a table.”
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“We’ll take another pitcher and a bowl of popcorn,” Rob said. She grabbed the empty pitcher and left. Rob liked Victoria. He fully realized the absurdity of her silly rent comment. The only child of the most successful Boulder Isle retail store/mall operator, she worked in and, given time, would inherit the family’s three area malls. She graduated high school two years after him, but she’d been a high school basketball cheerleader while Rob and his buddies earned back-to-back varsity letters. And later, on birthday number eighteen; Rob couldn’t forget the fancy red Chrysler convertible Victoria's parents bought for her summer evening cruising.
When Victoria reappeared with a full beer pitcher and popcorn, he asked, “When will the band begin playing?” Her miniskirt hem tickled the right forearm as she placed the pitcher table center. He couldn’t see Bull’s reaction but didn’t think service required Victoria to bend forward as far as she did, especially considering the uniform’s low-cut bodice.
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