We Interrupt This Date by L.C. Evans

thrown in my face or whatever you
want to call it, I deserved a chance at happiness.
    Why couldn’t I do what I wanted now that I
didn’t have a husband to stop me? T. Chandler would have gone
quietly indignant if I’d ever done something for myself while we
were married.
    “ Your first priority is our son,” he’d
have said, speaking in low tones so I’d have to lean toward him
like a serf obeying to her master in order to make out his words.
“Second is our marriage. You can’t jump into something as risky as
ghost tours, or whatever you’re calling it, something with evening
hours that would demand such a big chunk of your time and energy.
And you know I don’t care for that woman.” That woman was Veronica,
who’d caught on to T. Chandler a lot faster than I had.
    But T. Chandler was out of my life, thank
God. In fact, he was out of the city, having moved to Atlanta with
his new wife. I was not going to let either him or DeLorean and her
latest disaster weigh on my mind.
    As far as moving ahead with my job plans, I
could start the ghost tours, but I’d have to wait to move into the
Seaside View until DeLorean and her son settled in to a place of
their own. Presumably this would be after she found a job here in
Mount Pleasant or across the river in Charleston. There had to be a
way to manage with two extra people. I was simply going to have to
rearrange my schedule. I thrust my chin out and pasted on a
“can-do” smile. Mission accomplished—almost.
    I called Jack and left a message that I
couldn’t make lunch due to a problem with my sister. Then I called
Odell to say I’d had a family emergency. He was still screaming
about “short-timers attitude” and making inarticulate noises when I
hung up. Brenda would be fine. She’d taken copious notes yesterday.
Besides, she’d shown every sign of wanting to do things her way and
this was her golden opportunity to assume command.
    After I hung up on Odell, I spared myself a
moment of keen disappointment that I wouldn’t be seeing Jack today.
He was right--we still had a lot of catching up to do and, after
all, we used to be best friends.
    Then I raced around like a madwoman getting
the guest room ready, cleaning out the closet where I’d stored the
overflow from Christian’s room and rearranging the second guest
room, which I’d been using as an office. DeLorean could have that
room for the baby as soon as he was old enough to leave her
side.
    When I was done, I barely had time to shower
and change before I had to head out to pick up DeLorean at the
Charleston airport. The airport is only about fifteen miles from my
home in Mount Pleasant. Unfortunately, an accident somewhere ahead
of me blocked the westbound lanes. I crawled along in a line of
cars moving bumper to bumper.
    DeLorean’s plane had already touched down by
the time I rushed into the terminal panting like an overheated dog.
Swarms of newly arrived travelers milled around me, jostling for
space next to the baggage carousel. I stepped back against the
nearest wall just in time to avoid being crushed between two
football player-sized men in suits, turned slightly to the right,
and spotted DeLorean huddled in a corner clutching Cole in front of
her in a baby carrier. Various carry-on bags swung from her
shoulders.
    She was wearing an emerald green cocktail
dress and spiked heels—silver in color. I didn’t know how she
managed to keep her balance. Her auburn hair stood out from her
head in a mass of thick, unruly curls. If the break up with Baldwin
had stressed her, the effects didn’t show on the perfect oval of
her face. Her make-up, lightly applied, was enough to highlight her
long-lashed blue eyes and her full lips. More than a few men turned
for a second look as they walked past. I felt a surge of pride.
That was my little sister they were admiring.
    Cole looked in my direction. His chubby fist,
clutching a rattle, waved back and forth. My heart melted and I
stepped forward and somehow