him in that old protective way, the friendly way that reassured her, comforted her. Everett rocked her against him. “I know, honey. Life’s not turning out like we planned, is it?”
She shook her head, mourning the old dreams in the house around her. The time had passed, and that’s what she felt as a woman—that her time had gone on without her.
“Shh. Just let me hold you. Friends, okay?”
“Sure—friends,” she returned, resting against him. After a moment, she drew away, and with the familiarity of the years between them, smoothed his hair and adjusted his collar. She did care for him, this genuine man who couldn’t move on either, and who deserved so much more. “You have a plane to catch, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh. Just send that design on to the printers, will you? Sign my name?”
“Okay. A hundred thousand copies, was it? Due at the end of the month and to be sent to your branch office in Chicago?”
“You got it, kid. Thanks.”
The working familiarity was there, the easy arrangements, the same old Everett. She raised her face to kiss him on thecheek, her friend, their lives merged. Instead he turned slightly, their lips meeting. The warmth was pleasant, lingering—and then Everett breathed heavily and moved away, and she knew he wanted more.
That afternoon, in Uma’s second-story office, Shelly sat hunched in the overstuffed chair. In her familiar shirt and shorts and her hair in a ponytail, Shelly brought with her the scent of lemon cleaners and fear. Her hand shook as she replaced the tea cup in its saucer, then gave it to Uma. “It’s always so safe here, so quiet, as if nothing ever changes. I remember being here, playing with the doll blanket your mother sewed for me, the way your grandmother cuddled me in this chair. Your mother fitted me for maternity clothes here. She held Dani—what am I going to do, Uma? Roman is back and I heard Dani talking to her friends—I really don’t like them—about this hunky guy on a Harley. It’s Roman. The talk is all over town. He and Mitchell went down to the lumberyard and got supplies and then to the thrift shop for a bed. You said Mitchell had a bed, so that means Roman is probably staying. What should I do?”
“Maybe he won’t stay.”
“Dani is determined she’s going to have him. I heard her talk about how she was going to have a real man take her virginity and he just arrived in town. I think that is all a ruse to force Jace to commit to a solid relationship. I’ve got to stop this now, somehow. Roman is her father!” On her feet now, a lithe, active woman, Shelly wrapped her arms around herself, her ponytail whipping around her face as she turned. “Tell me what to do. You’re the only one who I can talk to.”
Uma placed aside the tray with the tea service on it. Long ago in this same room, she had learned how women sharing tea led to peace and clear thinking. “You have to tell Roman.”
Shelly rocked herself. “I just can’t.”
Uma let the silence settle her point and Shelly sank once more into the chair, her head on her knees, arms around her legs as she rocked. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really. Mitchell has been here for a week. He’s been in town quite a bit, buying fix-up stuff for Lauren’s house—”
“Lauren’s house—I forgot to tell you. Pearl went over there and told Mitchell that you’d sent her for Lauren’s things. She intends to sell them at her church thrift shop. Did you really tell her she could have them? I thought we were all going to sit down and—”
“I did not” Uma reached for her telephone, punching in Pearl’s number. Pearl was obsessed with her post as manager of the thrift shop. When she answered, Uma tried not to let anger enter her voice; Pearl could be disoriented and pitiful, whining when faced with anger. Raised in a verbally abusive home, she had married a man who enjoyed tormenting her. “Pearl? I hear you collected Lauren’s things from
She shook her head, mourning the old dreams in the house around her. The time had passed, and that’s what she felt as a woman—that her time had gone on without her.
“Shh. Just let me hold you. Friends, okay?”
“Sure—friends,” she returned, resting against him. After a moment, she drew away, and with the familiarity of the years between them, smoothed his hair and adjusted his collar. She did care for him, this genuine man who couldn’t move on either, and who deserved so much more. “You have a plane to catch, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh. Just send that design on to the printers, will you? Sign my name?”
“Okay. A hundred thousand copies, was it? Due at the end of the month and to be sent to your branch office in Chicago?”
“You got it, kid. Thanks.”
The working familiarity was there, the easy arrangements, the same old Everett. She raised her face to kiss him on thecheek, her friend, their lives merged. Instead he turned slightly, their lips meeting. The warmth was pleasant, lingering—and then Everett breathed heavily and moved away, and she knew he wanted more.
That afternoon, in Uma’s second-story office, Shelly sat hunched in the overstuffed chair. In her familiar shirt and shorts and her hair in a ponytail, Shelly brought with her the scent of lemon cleaners and fear. Her hand shook as she replaced the tea cup in its saucer, then gave it to Uma. “It’s always so safe here, so quiet, as if nothing ever changes. I remember being here, playing with the doll blanket your mother sewed for me, the way your grandmother cuddled me in this chair. Your mother fitted me for maternity clothes here. She held Dani—what am I going to do, Uma? Roman is back and I heard Dani talking to her friends—I really don’t like them—about this hunky guy on a Harley. It’s Roman. The talk is all over town. He and Mitchell went down to the lumberyard and got supplies and then to the thrift shop for a bed. You said Mitchell had a bed, so that means Roman is probably staying. What should I do?”
“Maybe he won’t stay.”
“Dani is determined she’s going to have him. I heard her talk about how she was going to have a real man take her virginity and he just arrived in town. I think that is all a ruse to force Jace to commit to a solid relationship. I’ve got to stop this now, somehow. Roman is her father!” On her feet now, a lithe, active woman, Shelly wrapped her arms around herself, her ponytail whipping around her face as she turned. “Tell me what to do. You’re the only one who I can talk to.”
Uma placed aside the tray with the tea service on it. Long ago in this same room, she had learned how women sharing tea led to peace and clear thinking. “You have to tell Roman.”
Shelly rocked herself. “I just can’t.”
Uma let the silence settle her point and Shelly sank once more into the chair, her head on her knees, arms around her legs as she rocked. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really. Mitchell has been here for a week. He’s been in town quite a bit, buying fix-up stuff for Lauren’s house—”
“Lauren’s house—I forgot to tell you. Pearl went over there and told Mitchell that you’d sent her for Lauren’s things. She intends to sell them at her church thrift shop. Did you really tell her she could have them? I thought we were all going to sit down and—”
“I did not” Uma reached for her telephone, punching in Pearl’s number. Pearl was obsessed with her post as manager of the thrift shop. When she answered, Uma tried not to let anger enter her voice; Pearl could be disoriented and pitiful, whining when faced with anger. Raised in a verbally abusive home, she had married a man who enjoyed tormenting her. “Pearl? I hear you collected Lauren’s things from
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