Lies That Bind by Maggie Barbieri Page A

you’re busy but I just … well, I wanted to ask you a question,” he said, changing the subject. “Have you been to the new place in town? Monty’s?”
    She hadn’t, but she knew where he was going with this line of questioning. And she could think of nothing that would set tongues wagging more than the local baker out with a village cop, but being as she had always lectured her daughters on friendship and the right thing to do, she had a hard time thinking of a reason to turn him down completely. He was single, though newly according to Jo, and she had no attachments. Jo knew the whole story: his wife had left abruptly after twenty-two years of marriage. She had moved upstate and was involved with a man who used to be a woman, though Maeve wondered if that was just small-town embellishment for embellishment’s sake. Chris had been shocked and heartbroken, though Maeve had never seen evidence to support that. He was always Chris Larsson, blueberry muffin and coffee light and sweet. If she had allowed herself to think about it, let her mind go to places that had been closed off, she would have realized that he had been trying to woo her for a while.
    She looked at him, enjoying his blueberry muffin like he was a starving man who had just been handed a steak dinner. If she was really honest with herself, she had to admit that she was lonely and she suspected that he was, too. She remembered what six months into a divorce felt like and it wasn’t enjoyable, her “freedom” something she had never wanted.
    “I haven’t,” she said. Before his crestfallen face could really take shape, she added, “But I’ve always wanted to go back to that Indian place in Irvington. I went there once and it was great.” As the words slid out of her mouth, she realized that Chris, a product of Farringville, might not enjoy Indian food, looking more like a meat-and-potatoes guy. He surprised her by brightening right up.
    “I love that place,” he said. “So what’s good for you? I know it’s short notice, but how’s tonight?” he asked.
    She thought about it. Anything to rid herself of the mental stench of this day. “You’ve got a … date,” she said, stumbling over “date.”
    “Really? Tonight is good,” he said, getting up.
    “I guess I should have played harder to get?” she said, chagrined at the thought that she had said it out loud.
    “Nah. I hate hard to get,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at your house.” She started to give him her address. “I know where you live,” he said. “And not in a stalkery way. I know where everyone lives.”
    “More cop humor?” she said.
    He smiled. “Thanks for the muffin. And the … date. How’s eight?”
    “Perfect.” She watched him go and wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into.
    She figured whatever it was, it had to be good, if only for a little while. And that was good enough for now.

 
    CHAPTER 17
    That night, after debating for far too long about what she would wear on the date, Maeve settled on the usual: turtleneck. Nice jeans. Boots. Tinted ChapStick. She scrubbed her nails under the bathroom sink, trying desperately to get rid of the red icing that seemed to have taken up residence around her cuticles. It was no use; the icing was staying and Chris Larsson, if he were someone who noticed things like that, would just have to get used to it.
    He picked her up at eight, just like he said he would. That was a good sign. Cal was habitually late and that had driven her insane. Just not as insane as some other things he had done, like sleeping with her friends, marrying one of them.
    How do I do this? she wondered. Does he know how complicated my life is? How I had accepted that I would be alone for the rest of my life?
    And then the thought that she wasn’t proud of: I wonder how much experience he has with missing persons.
    Maeve realized that she was thinking all of this as she watched the river whiz by, Chris not terribly concerned with