Читать книгу The Marriage Wish - Dee Henderson - Страница 8

She was late. Jennifer rushed up the front walk of her home, fumbling with her keys. Scott was going to arrive in less than an hour. Her detour to Rachel and Peter’s to drop off a book had been a mistake. Her brother had wanted to debate the wisdom of her ending the Thomas Bradford mystery series and she hadn’t been able to invent an adequate excuse to leave. She knew better than to mention Scott and a date. She would never have gotten out of there. Peter took the responsibility of being her older brother very seriously.

Jennifer pushed open the front door to be met with the fragrant smell of roses. The bouquet sitting in the center of her dining room table had arrived Wednesday. Three dozen red, white and peach roses. The card had simply said “Looking forward to Saturday—Scott.” Jennifer had started crying. She couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since anyone had sent her roses.

“Jerry, I got a special delivery today.” Jennifer was curled up beside her husband on the couch, using his shoulder as a pillow. The credits of the late, late movie were beginning to roll by.

“You did?” Jerry asked, feigning surprise. His finger gently traced the curve of her jaw.

She smiled. “I think it was a bribe.”

“What was it?”

“Two dozen red roses.”

“It was a bribe,” Jerry agreed. “You know how much red roses cost these days?” he asked, amused.

She giggled.

“So what do you suppose this mystery person wants?”

Jerry leaned down to kiss her. “That’s hard to say,” he said softly. “I suppose you had better ask him.”

Jennifer turned on the couch to face him. “So what do you think my husband would like in return for two dozen red roses?”

The memory stopped Jennifer in the doorway. She sighed. These memories were going to drive her crazy.

She dressed with care. She had shopped for a new outfit. Those in her closet held too many memories. She had found a light green, long-sleeved dress. It looked expensive, moved with grace, and it helped her badly shaking self-esteem. She had bought a purse and new shoes to go with the dress. The gold necklace and earrings she wore had been a gift from Jerry.

She was ready before Scott arrived. To keep from pacing back and forth Jennifer went into her office, picked up the black three-ring binder on her desk and the red pen beside it. She turned on the stereo, already tuned to a favorite jazz station. Finding the page marked with a paper clip, she picked up the work where she’d left off, soon forgetting the time.

The doorbell rang. Quickly slipping the paper clip onto the top of the page she was on, she set the book back on the desk and went to answer the door.

He stood there, looking at the profusion of flowers growing around her porch, elegantly dressed in black slacks and an ivory dress shirt, contained, comfortable. A pleased smile lit his face as he turned and saw her. “Hello, Jennifer.”

She smiled back. “Hello, Scott.” She stepped back to let him enter her home. “Thank you for the flowers.” She motioned to the arrangement, already nervous.

“You’re welcome,” Scott replied easily. “Did you have a good week?”

“Quiet,” she replied. “Let me get my purse and jacket and I’ll be ready to go.”

She entered the living room, and he followed her. It was a simple room. A fireplace, couch, coffee table, easy chair, two end tables, display shelves. A prominent bookshelf held all the Thomas Bradford first editions.

The pictures caught Scott’s attention. There were several on the fireplace mantel, one on the end table. Her wedding picture. Jerry. Scott looked at the picture for several moments. His competition. He was surprised at the feeling, but it could not be ignored. He was competing with Jennifer’s memories of Jerry. Jennifer looked different in the pictures. She looked young. She looked happy. The past few years had taken a great toll.

“I’m ready,” she said quietly.

He turned to find she had joined him again. He smiled. “Then let’s go.”

Scott held her jacket for her to slip on. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said softly. The soft green dress had caught his attention the moment she’d opened the door, and he’d been watching it flair around her, wondering at the elegance she presented and how many more surprises she had in store for him. She was beautiful. Her face had healed, and while she still looked thin, there was color in her face and life in her eyes tonight.

She flushed. “Thank you.”

He gently slipped her long hair free from the collar of the jacket.

After she locked the front door, Jennifer walked beside Scott to his car, an expensive sports car. He held the passenger door, and Jennifer slipped inside. Her car was comfortable and dependable. This car was pure luxury.

“How does Italian sound?” Scott asked, looking over at her inquiringly.

“I love it,” Jennifer replied.

Scott nodded as he started the car. “I know a great place.”

Jennifer began to relax. Scott drove well, and she found it was a relief to be able to sit back and let someone else manage the traffic. They shared a comfortable silence, rather than the strained one she had feared.

“I’ve been looking forward to this evening all week,” Scott said, breaking the silence.

Jennifer looked over at him, and a chuckle escaped. “The week was that bad?”

Scott gave a slight smile. “I’ve had better,” he admitted.

He reached down and turned on the radio, his eyes not leaving the road. Jazz. Jennifer grinned. Okay, at least they had music in common. He clicked the volume down low. She studied him as he drove and wondered what had made his week so rough. She would have to ask him later. She liked a great deal the fact he was not threatened by the silence between them. She wasn’t one to chatter, and silence gave one time to think.

They arrived at the restaurant he had chosen, and the parking lot was crowded. Jennifer had heard of the place, but had never been here before. Scott found a place to park and clicked off the ignition. “Stay put,” he told her with a smile. Jennifer took a deep breath as Scott came around the car to open the door for her. She forced herself to smile. It was not Scott’s fault that her stomach was beginning to turn in knots again. This was a date, a real, honest to goodness, date. She had conveniently forgotten that fact. Scott offered her his hand to help her from the car, clicked a button on his key ring and all the car doors locked. He offered her his arm. Somewhat embarrassed, Jennifer accepted. He was picking up her nervousness and his smile was kind.

“Relax,” he said gently.

“Sorry, Scott. I hate first dates,” she admitted, then wished she hadn’t.

They were almost across the parking lot. He squeezed her hand. “I know what you mean. Trouble is, you can’t have a second one without it.” As they reached the door, Scott’s arm moved down to around her waist and Jennifer found the touch both disconcerting and comforting. He kept it there as they were escorted by a smiling maître d’ to the table Scott had reserved. The restaurant was elegant, the tables spaced for privacy, the lights slightly subdued. Scott helped her slip off the jacket, held her chair for her. He took a seat across from her. Jennifer forced herself to meet his eyes. She knew she was flushed, her face felt hot. All he did was offer a soft reassuring smile. He handed her a menu. “The veal here is very good. As is the quail.”

Jennifer nodded and gratefully dropped her eyes to the cloth-covered book that was the menu. She opened it. No prices.

“Jerry, there are no prices in this menu.” Jennifer nearly giggled. “Do you suppose everything is free?”

Jerry just smiled and motioned the waiter over. “Could we have two coffees please?” He didn’t need one. Jennifer did.

His wife had had too much champagne.

He wasn’t annoyed. Far from it. She had been petrified of attending the party their publisher had hosted for several writers introducing new books for the Christmas season. She had gone despite the fear and done a magnificent job. When they left the party shortly after eleven, it was with the knowledge that several nationwide bookstore chains would be prominently displaying their seventh book. Their agent, Ann, had sent a bottle of champagne to their hotel room with her congratulations. Jennifer had drunk three glasses. Jerry, who knew Jennifer had been too nervous before the party to eat, had wisely escorted her to the hotel restaurant. She needed to unwind.

“Jerry, let’s not do that again, okay?”

“You did a great job, honey.”

“I have a headache.”

“Too much champagne.”

“Too many people,” Jennifer replied. “Did you see the lady with the diamond necklace, the one with six strands?”

“Lisa Monet. Her last four books have been on the bestseller list,” Jerry replied calmly.

“She was beautiful.”

“She couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

Jennifer smiled. Her husband meant it. “Thanks.”

“Sure, beautiful. Want to go dancing after we eat?”

“Could we? It’s awful late.”

“This from a lady who thinks three in the morning is a perfect time of day?” Jerry kidded gently.

“Only if Thomas decided he wanted to keep talking.”

Jerry smiled.

The coffee arrived.

“Jen, have you decided, or would you like some more time?” With a start, Jennifer realized Scott was addressing her.

“The veal, please,” she replied, trying to cover the lapse of concentration.

He signaled the waiter, gave their order, having chosen veal for himself. “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

Jennifer blushed. “Jerry and I were at a restaurant much like this in New York a few years ago. I had forgotten that memory.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Scott replied gently. “What took you to New York?”

“Our seventh book came out about Christmastime. The publishers held a party for all the authors with new books coming out. A way to generate some publicity.”

“I seem to remember reading that that book was very popular.”

Jennifer nodded. “It sold well.” That’s why we decided we could start thinking about starting a family. She couldn’t prevent the look of pain that fleetingly crossed her face.

The salads arrived before Scott could question that look.

They ate in comfortable silence.

“Tell me a little about your family, Jennifer. Do they live around here?”

Jennifer set down her crystal water glass. “My parents died a few years ago in a car crash. I have one brother, older than me. Peter is married, has three children. Alexander is nine, Tom is eleven, and Tiffany is twelve.”

“You and Jerry never had children?” It was the wrong question to ask; Scott knew it as soon as he asked the question, but it was too late to take back the words.

“Jerry, can we get a Jenny Lynn crib?”

Her husband’s arms around her waist gave her a gentle hug. “Sure. Next month as a seven month present?”

“You’ll have the baby room painted by then?”

Jerry smiled. “Right down to the teddy bears around the door,” he assured her.

Jennifer gave her husband a hug. “Wonderful. I’ve been thinking about names some more. What do you think about Colleen for a girl?”

“Colleen St. James. I like it. Have a middle name yet?”

“Not yet.”

The raw pain Jennifer felt at the memory tore at her heart. Jerry had not lived long enough to see his daughter born. “No,” she finally whispered. “No, we never had children.”

Scott could see the pain in her eyes. “Jen, I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

She shook her head and forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’m not normally so touchy. What about you? Is your family in the area?”

“My parents live in Burmingham, about forty minutes away. I have one younger sister, Heather. She’s married and has two children, is expecting her third.”

They talked about family for a while, Jennifer laughing at the stories he told of his and Heather’s childhood.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Please,” Jennifer agreed.

“How is the book coming?”

“Not too bad. I’ve actually been working on it for some time. Another week of writing will finish the first draft.”

“You are still planning to end the series?”

“Yes. It’s best. The books are not the same without Jerry.”

Scott looked at his watch and reluctantly said it was time to leave for the theater. Jennifer would have been content to stay and talk for the evening, miss the play.

Scott escorted her from the restaurant, across the parking lot. When he held the car door for her, she was expecting it. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, slipping inside.

They were quiet during the few-minutes’ ride to the theater. “Have you ever been here, Jennifer?”

She shook her head.

“The theater has seats that circle the entire stage. The stage is an octagon, different parts of which can be raised and lowered during the play. An orchestra will provide the music.”

Jennifer smiled. “I’m going to love this, Scott.”

Scott held the door for her. They stepped into a massive lobby. Scott, a hand at the small of Jennifer’s back, led her into the crowd, angling them to the left. An usher accepted the tickets from Scott, handing back the seat assignment portion along with two programs. “You are in the fourth row in the blue section.”

“Thank you.”

The seats fanned out from the stage. Jennifer did not see what markers Scott was using until she realized the floor lights along each section were different colors. They were elegant theater seats of royal blue crushed velvet. Scott helped her slip off her jacket and laid it across the back of her chair. The program Jennifer opened was ten full pages of information about the play, the actors, the director, costumes and scenery.

The lights dimmed and the music swelled.

It was a fast-moving play. She hadn’t realized it was based on political intrigue.

The intermission, an hour into the play, caught Jennifer by surprise. Scott had been enjoying the play, but he had also been enjoying watching Jennifer, leaning forward in her seat, being totally captivated by the presentation. “Like it so far?”

She leaned back in her seat with a big smile. “Oh, yes.” She gave a soft laugh. “I’m exhausted. Too much intrigue.”

He chuckled. “You must get tense writing your books.”

“After writing a description of a crime scene, it may take me several hours to unwind.”

“Jerry, this was a wonderful idea.”

The hotel had a gorgeous indoor pool, softly lit and surrounded by tropical plants. They were the only guests taking advantage of it. The warm water was easing knots in her back that Jennifer had been afraid would be there permanently. Jerry gently moved his hand up to rub the back of Jennifer’s neck where tense muscles were causing her a splitting headache. “I wish you would start taking more breaks, Jennifer. Get up and walk around the house if nothing else. These twelve-hour marathons of yours are deadly.”

“Hmm.” She leaned forward to give him better access to her shoulders.

“How did you manage to get us reservations on less than an hour’s notice?”

“I made reservations three weeks ago.”

Jennifer opened one eye. “You did?”

He smiled. “I’m not the one who forgets our anniversary.”

She groaned. “Guilty. I will make up for the meat loaf dinner. I just got tied up with the story.”

Jerry smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I like your meat loaf.” He gently kissed her. His arms folded across her waist, supporting her.

“We’re almost done with this book,” Jennifer said drowsily.

“Another week,” Jerry agreed. He gently rubbed his hand across her midriff. “How’s our baby coming?”

“She likes ice cream and chocolate and hates meat loaf,” Jennifer replied. “And she hates getting up in the morning.”

Jerry chuckled. “Nausea still bad?”

“No.” Jennifer gently kissed the side of his neck. “It’s hard to believe she’s six months old,” she said with a sigh.

Jerry stole a kiss. “A perfect six months.”

“Scott, excuse me. I’ll be right back,” Jennifer said, her face pale, hands suddenly trembling. She got quickly to her feet. “The ladies’ room is along the way we came in?”

Scott’s hand steadied her. “Yes.” He had seen the emotions rapidly crossing her face. Whatever memory he’d triggered had been a powerful one. He watched as she hurried toward the door.

The ladies’ room was actually three rooms, a lounge with beautiful couches and antiques, a powder room and rest rooms. The rooms were crowded with guests. Jennifer moved directly to the lavatory and wet a paper towel. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, she knew how pale she must look. She returned to the lounge and found a place to sit down.

The racing thoughts didn’t settle. She finally forced herself to take a deep breath and get to her feet. She didn’t know how long the intermission was, but it was probably no more than fifteen minutes. She had no idea what she was going to say to Scott.

He was standing across the hall from the ladies’ room, waiting for her.

He moved to her side when he saw her.

“Sorry about that,” Jennifer said quietly, apologetically.

He studied her face for a moment.

“I brought you a drink. It looks like you could use it,” he said finally, handing her one of the glasses he carried.

It looked like liquor. “Scott, I don’t drink. Except under extreme duress,” she qualified, remembering the anniversary of her husband’s death.

“Neither do I, actually. It’s iced tea.”

She blushed with embarrassment.

“Quit that, Jen. If you hadn’t asked, I would have been upset.”

Jennifer tilted her head to look at him. He was serious. She was never going to get used to this man. “Thank you.”

She took a long drink of the iced tea.

“Are you okay?”

He wanted an honest answer. Jennifer didn’t know what to tell him. She looked down at the wedding ring she wore. “I remembered forgetting our wedding anniversary the last year Jerry was alive.” She forced back the tears, but her eyes were still shining with the moisture. “There are some memories that still wrench my heart, Scott. It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Scott slid his hand gently under her hair around the nape of her neck. His blue eyes held her brown ones. “It’s okay, Jen,” he said softly. “He was your husband. You don’t have to forget him in order to go on with your life.”

His hand slid down to grasp hers. “Finish your drink. Intermission is almost over.”

Jennifer finished the iced tea. Scott took her glass and returned it to one of the waiters mingling through the crowd. He led them back to their seats.

The lights dimmed.

Scott reached over to calmly catch Jennifer’s hand, hold it firmly. She squeezed his hand in reply, not looking over at him.

The final act was very moving. Jennifer was crying before the curtain dropped. Scott slipped her a handkerchief. Jennifer squeezed his hand in thanks.

“That was very good, Scott,” Jennifer said when the play ended, drying her eyes. “Sad, but good.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” He intertwined their fingers. “Want to get a nightcap? Some coffee?”

“My place? I really need a couple of aspirins,” she admitted.

“Sure.” Scott picked up her jacket and their two programs.

“Scott, I thought that was you!” His hand stiffened. Jennifer looked up in surprise to see Scott looking back into the crowd.

“Hello, Mrs. Richards,” he said politely as a lady in her late fifties stopped at the end of the row of seats, effectively blocking their exit.

“Wasn’t it just a divine play? My Susan does such a great job. She has such a natural talent for the part, don’t you think?”

Jennifer choked, remembering that Susan Richards had been one of the actresses. She’d played a waitress Jennifer recalled. A very attractive waitress. Scott squeezed Jennifer’s hand in response. “Yes, Netta, Susan is becoming a very good actress,” he agreed, easing them forward.

“We are having an informal party to celebrate her success. Please do say you will come.”

Jennifer saw a beautiful lady in her early twenties wearing a white dress step up beside the older lady. “Mother, that is not necessary.” She offered an apologetic smile. “Hi, Scott.”

“Susan.” He smiled. “Good job, as always. Congratulations on getting the lead for Towers.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Jim told you?”

Scott nodded. “Excuse us, ladies, but we need to be going. Jennifer is not feeling well tonight.” Before Jennifer realized what was happening, Scott had maneuvered them out into the lobby.

“Susan looks like a nice young woman.”

“She is. She’s engaged to one of my hardware designers, or will be once Jim gets the nerve to face Netta.”

Jennifer had no trouble putting together the full picture. “Oh.”

Scott smiled. “Exactly.” He playfully squeezed her hand. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Lots of practice,” Jennifer replied, amused.

“Scott.” It was a male voice calling his name this time.

Scott glanced around. “Jen, can you manage a few more minutes? I would like you to meet someone,” he asked, looking at her carefully.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

Scott, his arm around her waist, took them forward to meet the couple. An older gentleman in his late sixties, holding hands with the lady at his side.

“Scott, thanks for the tickets. We enjoyed the show.”

Scott smiled broadly, shaking hands with the gentleman. “My pleasure, Andrew.” Scott leaned forward to kiss the cheek of the lady. “You look stunning, Maggie.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Scott.”

“Andrew, Maggie, I would like you to meet Jennifer St. James.” Scott’s hand around her waist felt very reassuring. Jennifer smiled at the couple as they all said hello. “Andrew in my executive vice president, Jennifer. He knows the business better than I do.”

The older man smiled. “Don’t believe everything he says, Jennifer. One of these days I may have to retire just to show him I’m not indispensable.”

“The day you do, I may resign,” Scott answered with a laugh. “Maggie, how’s your granddaughter? Still wrapping grandfather, here, around her little finger?”

The lady beamed. “In a big way.” She smiled at Jennifer. “Andrew spent the weekend putting up a swing set. My granddaughter is only six months old, but Andrew wanted us to be prepared. In case we ever have to baby-sit,” Maggie said, looking over with amusement at her husband.

He just grinned. “Scott, would you please tell Maggie you can never be too prepared?”

Scott, his attention caught by an emotion that had flickered across Jennifer’s face, feeling her sudden tension, had to force himself back to the conversation. He offered a soft smile to Maggie. “Maggie, I think he’s determined to always be prepared. You’ll have to humor him I’m afraid.”

Lord, what’s causing Jennifer this pain? I wanted her to have a relaxing night. I don’t know what’s wrong. Scott prayed the words silently as he shifted his arm to support more of Jennifer’s weight. “I hate to say hi and run, but we need to be going,” he said to his friends. “Maggie, it was a pleasure. Andrew.” Jennifer softly echoed his goodbyes.

They walked together to the car. Scott looked at her closed expression, could see the tension in her and knew she needed some space. He gave it to her. He turned on the radio, found a station still playing soft jazz. “Are you going to be okay?”

Jennifer finally nodded.

“I’ll have you home soon,” Scott promised.

It was a thirty-minute drive. When they reached her home, Scott came around to open the passenger door and escort her up the walk. She unlocked the front door, then hesitated. “I need some coffee. Would you like to stay and join me?”

Scott knew she must want this evening to simply end. But she was trying to make amends. He silently nodded. Jennifer gestured him toward the living room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She was gone almost ten minutes. Scott didn’t crowd her. He walked around the living room. There was a Bible on the end table. Jennifer’s name was inscribed on the leather cover. He frowned briefly. What had Jennifer said? He had asked her over dinner where she attended church. “My husband was a very religious man. I haven’t been to church much since he died.”

Her home suggested that Christianity had not been just one-sided, at least not at some time in the past. There were Bible verses cross-stitched on the throw pillows, two of the pictures had verses of scripture stenciled in. Who knew where she stood now? Other than the clear fact that she was hurting, he did not have much to go on.

It bothered him to realize she had walked away from the one person who could help her heal. God. She had to have felt anger and shock when her husband died, the agony of why it had been allowed to happen would have naturally cut pretty deep. But after three years, there should not still be this distance from God. Was she simply stuck and didn’t know how to return? He was going to have to find a way to fix this.

She came back in, carrying their coffee.

Scott accepted the cup she offered him with a quiet thanks. He watched her warily. He had never seen this expression before, the quiet intensity that said she had made a decision.

“I think you chose the wrong time to get to know me, Scott.” She took a seat across from him when he sat down on the couch.

He tensed. He suspected this was heading somewhere he did not like. “Because of the memories?”

“Because I don’t want to get involved,” she replied. “Not now.”

He sighed. “Jennifer, you’re going to go through this, no matter how long you wait. The first time you venture out, the same set of circumstances is going to occur.”

“The memories are too raw, Scott. I can’t handle half a dozen flashbacks every day to a time when life was perfect. I’ll shatter.”

Scott winced at the image. “Was it perfect, Jen?” he asked carefully.

“For a time, yes, it was,” she whispered.

“Do you want me to leave, Jen? Say goodbye for good?”

She leaned her head back and looked over at him. “I want the past back,” she replied. She gave a half smile. “I sound like a spoiled child, wanting what I can’t have.” She sighed. “Scott, I don’t think I can even be a good friend right now. I don’t have the energy or the nerve to take a risk again.”

“Jen, I can’t take away the pain you are going through. But I can give you all the time you need, time without any strings attached.”

“I get nasty when I’m hurting,” Jennifer warned softly.

“I’ll survive,” he said firmly. “Just don’t hide Jennifer. I can’t deal with something I don’t know is there.”

You don’t know about Colleen. You don’t know how she died.

She looked at his eyes. He wasn’t ready to handle that level of her grief. Not yet. “Okay, Scott.”

“Good.”

Jennifer kicked off her shoes so she could tuck her feet beneath her.

“Would you like to try a simple dinner out this next week?”

She shook her head.

Scott looked disappointed. Before he could comment, Jennifer nodded toward her office. “I’ve got to get the first draft finished, or I’m going to lose my nerve to finish the series.”

He grimaced. “Work. I have used that excuse more times than I care to admit myself. What about the week after?”

“Any night but Monday,” Jennifer replied, giving him cart blanche to set her schedule. Monday nights her brother and his two boys came over to watch the football game.

“How about Thursday?”

“Sounds fine,” Jennifer agreed.

Scott nodded. “Thursday it is.” He couldn’t prevent the yawn. It had nothing to do with the company, it had simply been a very long, heavy week.

“Like a refill?” Jennifer asked, gesturing to his coffee cup.

“Please,” Scott replied.

Jennifer filled his cup then sat back down. “What other authors do you like to read?” she asked, then grinned. “Besides me?”

He laughed. They passed a pleasant hour, talking about books, authors they liked, then about movies they had seen. Jennifer happened to glance at her watch. “Scott, it’s twelve forty-five.”

He nodded. “You are right. I had better get going.” He got to his feet. He smiled. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“So did I,” she admitted.

She turned on the porch light and watched him start his car. He lifted a hand. She waved back, then quietly closed the door.

“You look tired. Late night?”

Scott’s sister, Heather, grinned as she asked the question, leaning over the back of the pew to get his attention. Busy cramming for the youth group lesson he had to give in twenty minutes, Scott just grinned and said, “Yes. Now go away, Twiggy. And don’t tell Mom.” The nickname she had picked up in high school had stuck. Scott ensured it got kept alive. She liked to protest, but he knew she would be hurt if he dropped his pet name for her. She had a green thumb and now owned a greenhouse, making her name even more fitting.

She squeezed his shoulders. “I knew it. Is she pretty?”

Scott stuck his finger on the text he was going to use and leaned his head back to smile at his sister. “She’s beautiful,” he replied gravely. He hadn’t told her much when he had reneged on his offer to take her to see the play so he could take Jennifer instead, and her curiosity had to be killing her. Scott loved it. His grin told her he was holding out deliberately.

She swatted his shoulder. “Come on. Spill the beans. Or I will tell Mom you were on a date last night.”

“I took Jennifer out to dinner, we went to the play, and then we sat and talked over coffee at her place. I didn’t get home till 1:30 a.m. I had a nice time, and yes, I’ll probably see her again. Sufficient?”

She grinned. “Not hardly. But you can tell me the rest over lunch. Frank’s taking the kids roller skating. You’re buying.”

“It’s your turn to buy,” he protested.

“Then we’ll go to Fred’s,” she replied, knowing how he hated the boring food served there.

Scott sighed. “If you’re going to twist my arm like that, I’ll buy. Why do I love you so much, anyway?”

“Because I’ve got two kids you adore so you have to be nice to me,” she replied with a grin. “I’ll find you after church. I’m on piano today.”

“Break a finger.”

She smiled, tugged his hair, and left him to finish preparing his lesson.