kids,” she
explained patiently. Lettie had never been the smartest girl in class. She made
up for it by being the meanest.
“So, how old are your kids?” she asked.
“Thirteen, eleven, seven, four and two.” Lettie patted her
stomach. “I’m pregnant again,” she crowed, clearly proud of her reproductive
powers.
So Lettie had gotten pregnant right out of high school. “And
your husband? Did you marry someone local?”
“’Course. Jamie Whitaker,” Lettie said smugly.
Jamie. The football jock. He’d been popular with the girls, but
never particularly discriminating. He’d tried to hit on Grace once, but she’d
just given him a look and walked away. It had been a mistake, because then he’d
spread the rumor that she’d slept with him. The in crowd had believed Jamie,
although no one else did. But it had hurt, and Jack had gotten into a fight with
him. Jack had lost. Grace winced at the memory. It was one of the many unhappy
incidents of her school life she’d endeavored to overcome. The fact that she was
standing in the middle of Main Street reliving the experience was proof she
hadn’t been entirely successful.
Wanting to get away from Lettie and the memories, she said,
“I’m so glad it all worked out for you, Lettie. You and Jamie deserve each
other. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.” She turned away, hating
her bitchy tone but nevertheless triumphant at the shock on Lettie’s face.
“Yeah, well, just make sure you keep away from him!” Lettie
shouted to her back.
“That won’t be a problem,” Grace muttered under her breath.
“Damn!” she said, angry that she hadn’t been dressed to the nines when she’d run
into Lettie. It shouldn’t matter what some skank from her past thought of her,
but Grace had wanted to show at least one of the girls who’d been so mean to her
how successful she’d become.
Successful! Ha! What a joke. She
had money and nice clothes and a prestigious career. But “Loosie Lettie” had the
kids and the husband. Grace had no idea why that annoyed her so much. After all,
who in her right mind would want to be married to Jamie Whitaker? And have his kids!
Flustered, Grace missed the manicurist’s shop and had to double
back. She dreaded bumping into Lettie again. The woman had made her feel so
uncomfortable that all Grace wanted to do was flee, get out of Spruce Lake and
away from the bad memories.
“Hey! What’s biting your butt?”
Grace met Matt’s concerned eyes. “You okay, Grace? You look
like you want to punch something,” he said.
Grace took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself.
“Hi, Matt. I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I just ran headlong into my past and I
didn’t enjoy it.”
“Care to discuss?”
“It’s only stupid teenage angst.”
Matt crossed his arms. “Which you’re apparently still dealing
with.”
“You got that right,” she said, and shook her head. “I
shouldn’t have come here thinking I could...”
“Could what?”
Matt was too astute, which probably made him a good cop, but
she was too wound up to talk.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I...need to go.”
“Why don’t we grab a soda?”
Grace knew Matt wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Shouldn’t you be out hunting down criminals?”
“If you told me who upset you, I could go hunt them down and
arrest them.” He caught her elbow and steered Grace into the café they were
standing in front of. Grace collapsed into a chair and Matt sat opposite her,
resting his big arms on the table. The waitress arrived with two glasses of
water. Matt ordered his diet soda, while Grace asked for a pot of herbal tea.
Tea always helped calm her nerves.
“What’s the statute of limitations on bullying?” she asked
Matt, half hoping it was twenty-five years.
Matt frowned. “Someone bullied you in the street?”
“No, it goes way back. To high school. I ran into someone who
used to make my life a living hell.”
Matt nodded.
explained patiently. Lettie had never been the smartest girl in class. She made
up for it by being the meanest.
“So, how old are your kids?” she asked.
“Thirteen, eleven, seven, four and two.” Lettie patted her
stomach. “I’m pregnant again,” she crowed, clearly proud of her reproductive
powers.
So Lettie had gotten pregnant right out of high school. “And
your husband? Did you marry someone local?”
“’Course. Jamie Whitaker,” Lettie said smugly.
Jamie. The football jock. He’d been popular with the girls, but
never particularly discriminating. He’d tried to hit on Grace once, but she’d
just given him a look and walked away. It had been a mistake, because then he’d
spread the rumor that she’d slept with him. The in crowd had believed Jamie,
although no one else did. But it had hurt, and Jack had gotten into a fight with
him. Jack had lost. Grace winced at the memory. It was one of the many unhappy
incidents of her school life she’d endeavored to overcome. The fact that she was
standing in the middle of Main Street reliving the experience was proof she
hadn’t been entirely successful.
Wanting to get away from Lettie and the memories, she said,
“I’m so glad it all worked out for you, Lettie. You and Jamie deserve each
other. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.” She turned away, hating
her bitchy tone but nevertheless triumphant at the shock on Lettie’s face.
“Yeah, well, just make sure you keep away from him!” Lettie
shouted to her back.
“That won’t be a problem,” Grace muttered under her breath.
“Damn!” she said, angry that she hadn’t been dressed to the nines when she’d run
into Lettie. It shouldn’t matter what some skank from her past thought of her,
but Grace had wanted to show at least one of the girls who’d been so mean to her
how successful she’d become.
Successful! Ha! What a joke. She
had money and nice clothes and a prestigious career. But “Loosie Lettie” had the
kids and the husband. Grace had no idea why that annoyed her so much. After all,
who in her right mind would want to be married to Jamie Whitaker? And have his kids!
Flustered, Grace missed the manicurist’s shop and had to double
back. She dreaded bumping into Lettie again. The woman had made her feel so
uncomfortable that all Grace wanted to do was flee, get out of Spruce Lake and
away from the bad memories.
“Hey! What’s biting your butt?”
Grace met Matt’s concerned eyes. “You okay, Grace? You look
like you want to punch something,” he said.
Grace took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself.
“Hi, Matt. I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I just ran headlong into my past and I
didn’t enjoy it.”
“Care to discuss?”
“It’s only stupid teenage angst.”
Matt crossed his arms. “Which you’re apparently still dealing
with.”
“You got that right,” she said, and shook her head. “I
shouldn’t have come here thinking I could...”
“Could what?”
Matt was too astute, which probably made him a good cop, but
she was too wound up to talk.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I...need to go.”
“Why don’t we grab a soda?”
Grace knew Matt wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Shouldn’t you be out hunting down criminals?”
“If you told me who upset you, I could go hunt them down and
arrest them.” He caught her elbow and steered Grace into the café they were
standing in front of. Grace collapsed into a chair and Matt sat opposite her,
resting his big arms on the table. The waitress arrived with two glasses of
water. Matt ordered his diet soda, while Grace asked for a pot of herbal tea.
Tea always helped calm her nerves.
“What’s the statute of limitations on bullying?” she asked
Matt, half hoping it was twenty-five years.
Matt frowned. “Someone bullied you in the street?”
“No, it goes way back. To high school. I ran into someone who
used to make my life a living hell.”
Matt nodded.
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