definitely taken a turn, but experience had taught her it wasn’t necessarily for the better. “Nice weather we’re having, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, if you like cold wind and rain.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Okay, I give up. Why the change of subject?”
“I just think we ought to talk about something else.”
“Why?”
“Well, you just left church for one thing—it’d be a shame for all those blessings to go down the drain just because the subject of feminism came up.”
“You make a good point,” he agreed. “And my hat’s off to you, by the way.”
“Whatever for?”
He raised his hands in a gesture of helpless supplication.
“Okay, all right, I get it. The Mistress of Evasion, right?”
A chuckle was his only answer.
“How’s this for evasive. Why’d you look Wade up on the Internet?”
“You’re my only kid, let’s not forget. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t check him out?”
“He’s a well-respected surgeon,” she pointed out. And giggling, she added, “What did you think you’d find—that he’s an ax murderer in his spare time?”
He shrugged yet again, than wagged a forefinger at her. “You can never be—”
“—too careful these days,” she finished with him.
“Yeah, well, that smile on your face tells me you agree.” He grinned.
“Maybe it means I think you’re a lovable old kook.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, who you callin’ old? ”
Laughing, she wheeled the van into a handicapped space in front of the grocery store. “Well, here we are.”
He peered through the windshield and feigned surprise. “That we are, Miss E, that we are.” He unbuckled his seat belt and reached into the back seat. “Tell you what,” he said, grabbing the Sunday paper. “Think I’ll wait here while you shop.”
She opened the driver’s door. “What about the junk food?”
He slid the comics from the rest of the stack. “Guess I’ll just have to trust you to do the right thing.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
He peeked out from behind the funnies. “Chocolate cake or apple pie, your decision.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he added with a smirk, “Just don’t forget the vanilla ice cream.”
Once dinner was ready for the oven, Patrice tidied the house, and herself. She’d worn an old favorite to church, and probably wouldn’t have changed it…if Wade wasn’t coming for dinner. Swapping the gray corduroy jumper and white blouse for blue jeans and a white turtleneck sent just the right message, she thought. Patrice McKenzie could be as casual and relaxed as anyone! Of course, she’d never admit—not even to Gus—that it had taken nearly an hour of frenzied searching to come up with the easygoing look.
When the doorbell rang at precisely one o’clock, she’d just looped a pair of stylish silver earrings through her earlobes. One last peek in the foyer mirror, one last pat to ensure her curls covered the scar. “Ready or not,” she whispered, a hand on the knob, “here he comes.”
He smiled when she opened the door. “Hi. Hope I’m not too early.”
His loose-fitting tan sweater brought out the gold in his hazel eyes—eyes that bored into hers with such an intensity it made her heart beat double time. Patrice hid her agitation by checking her wristwatch. “You’re right on time. C’mon in.”
Wade pointed at the bakery box balanced on his rightpalm. “Cherry cobbler,” he announced, his grin broadening.
Another dessert…when she’d bought all the ingredients for home-baked chocolate cake at the grocery store earlier. Looked like Gus would be able to fill his junk food quota today! “Thanks,” she said, closing the door, then led him down the hall toward the kitchen. “Can I pour you a glass of iced tea or lemonade? There’s a pot of hot water on the stove, for tea or cocoa.”
“What’re you having?” he asked, putting the dessert box on the countertop.
She nodded toward the mug on the counter.
“Yeah, if you like cold wind and rain.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Okay, I give up. Why the change of subject?”
“I just think we ought to talk about something else.”
“Why?”
“Well, you just left church for one thing—it’d be a shame for all those blessings to go down the drain just because the subject of feminism came up.”
“You make a good point,” he agreed. “And my hat’s off to you, by the way.”
“Whatever for?”
He raised his hands in a gesture of helpless supplication.
“Okay, all right, I get it. The Mistress of Evasion, right?”
A chuckle was his only answer.
“How’s this for evasive. Why’d you look Wade up on the Internet?”
“You’re my only kid, let’s not forget. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t check him out?”
“He’s a well-respected surgeon,” she pointed out. And giggling, she added, “What did you think you’d find—that he’s an ax murderer in his spare time?”
He shrugged yet again, than wagged a forefinger at her. “You can never be—”
“—too careful these days,” she finished with him.
“Yeah, well, that smile on your face tells me you agree.” He grinned.
“Maybe it means I think you’re a lovable old kook.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, who you callin’ old? ”
Laughing, she wheeled the van into a handicapped space in front of the grocery store. “Well, here we are.”
He peered through the windshield and feigned surprise. “That we are, Miss E, that we are.” He unbuckled his seat belt and reached into the back seat. “Tell you what,” he said, grabbing the Sunday paper. “Think I’ll wait here while you shop.”
She opened the driver’s door. “What about the junk food?”
He slid the comics from the rest of the stack. “Guess I’ll just have to trust you to do the right thing.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
He peeked out from behind the funnies. “Chocolate cake or apple pie, your decision.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he added with a smirk, “Just don’t forget the vanilla ice cream.”
Once dinner was ready for the oven, Patrice tidied the house, and herself. She’d worn an old favorite to church, and probably wouldn’t have changed it…if Wade wasn’t coming for dinner. Swapping the gray corduroy jumper and white blouse for blue jeans and a white turtleneck sent just the right message, she thought. Patrice McKenzie could be as casual and relaxed as anyone! Of course, she’d never admit—not even to Gus—that it had taken nearly an hour of frenzied searching to come up with the easygoing look.
When the doorbell rang at precisely one o’clock, she’d just looped a pair of stylish silver earrings through her earlobes. One last peek in the foyer mirror, one last pat to ensure her curls covered the scar. “Ready or not,” she whispered, a hand on the knob, “here he comes.”
He smiled when she opened the door. “Hi. Hope I’m not too early.”
His loose-fitting tan sweater brought out the gold in his hazel eyes—eyes that bored into hers with such an intensity it made her heart beat double time. Patrice hid her agitation by checking her wristwatch. “You’re right on time. C’mon in.”
Wade pointed at the bakery box balanced on his rightpalm. “Cherry cobbler,” he announced, his grin broadening.
Another dessert…when she’d bought all the ingredients for home-baked chocolate cake at the grocery store earlier. Looked like Gus would be able to fill his junk food quota today! “Thanks,” she said, closing the door, then led him down the hall toward the kitchen. “Can I pour you a glass of iced tea or lemonade? There’s a pot of hot water on the stove, for tea or cocoa.”
“What’re you having?” he asked, putting the dessert box on the countertop.
She nodded toward the mug on the counter.
Similar Books
