Amber By Night. Sharon Sala
Aunt Witty’s blush came as a big surprise. Almost as much as the fact that she actually smiled.
Rosemary giggled. “Oh, Willy, do you remember Homer Ledbetter? He had the biggest crush on you when you were…”
The smile on Wilhemina’s face suddenly pursed. “Oh yes! I remember Homer well. He took Sissy Manion to the school picnic instead of me. I never did forgive him. After all, he’d promised.” Her mouth pursed unforgivingly. “Let that be a lesson to you, Amelia. You can’t trust men.”
Rosemary wasn’t to be deterred. “Pooh! Homer Ledbetter wasn’t even close to being a man. If I remember correctly, he hadn’t been out of knickers more than three or four years. Besides…everyone knew why he took Sissy. She used to let the boys…”
“Rosemary!”
Amelia grinned as she swallowed her last bite of scrambled egg, washing it down with a gulp of juice.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Have a nice day, okay? I’ll see you both this evening.”
“Anyway,” Rosemary continued as if there’d never been a breach in the conversation. “If you hadn’t been such a persimmon about things, he’d have asked you out again.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t want him to,” Wilhemina argued.
It was the last thing Amelia heard as she made a dash for the car. The ancient Chrysler coughed twice before the motor turned. With an aging wheeze, it came to life as she put it in reverse and backed from the driveway. She could hardly wait for the day when she climbed into a car that belonged to her. One that started with the turn of a key, not on a hiccup and a prayer. And one that would get her farther than Tulip Public Library.
Tyler shifted gears as he drove into town, slowing down in accordance with the speed zone sign that used to be standing at the city limits. The sign had blown away during the last hurricane more than fifteen years ago, but the sign-post was still there. It was just understood that the 35 mph limit was still in ordinance.
The wind blew through the open windows of his truck, cooling his sweat-drenched shirt just enough to give it a sticky, clammy feel against his skin. Last night’s rain had been a welcome relief, but the day’s heat was making the weather just short of unbearable. He glanced down at his wristwatch and made a quick decision. It was already close to noon and he still hadn’t made it to the fields. A flat on one of the duals of his 4850 John Deere had changed his plans. It had taken the better part of an hour to wrestle the huge tractor tire off the axle and another ten minutes just to get it into the back of a flatbed truck.
He turned down main street and headed for the filling station, knowing that it would take some time to get the flat fixed. The least he could get out of this morning was a decent meal at Sherry’s Steak and Soup. It wasn’t gourmet fare, but it beat his own cooking all to hell.
Amelia shifted the phone to her other ear as she leaned over the library counter and turned the sign on the door to read Closed.
“No, Aunt Witty, it’s my fault, not yours. I forgot to pick up my lunch this morning. And I know you two have garden club this afternoon. I’ve already decided to go over to Sherry’s Steak and Soup and have a salad.” She rolled her eyes as her aunt began a tirade on the dangers of too much fast food and grease. “I said, I’m having a salad. And yes, I’ll watch my waist.” Although I don’t know who besides you two will care.
She grabbed for her purse as she hung up the phone, unwilling to linger over their conversation and give her aunt time to make further suggestions concerning her food.
Jenny Michaels tucked a pencil behind her ear and shifted her chewing gum to the other side of her cheek. “Hey, Tyler Dean. I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right with you.”
“Just bring me a chicken fry and the works,” he said.
“Hey, Cookie, chicken fry with all the trimmings,” she shouted from across the room.
Amelia came in the side door and slid onto a bar stool just as Jenny was about to pick up an order from the kitchen. Jenny paused and whipped her pencil out from behind her ear.
“Hey there, Amelia. I’d better take your order before the cook gets bogged down in burgers and fries. What can I get ’ya?”
“A chef salad,” she answered. “Oh! And don’t forget I want…”
Jenny grinned. “I know. You want your boiled egg quartered. No ham. Only chicken. And fat-free ranch dressing on the side.”
Amelia frowned. “Am I in that much of a rut?”
“I don’t know,” Jenny said and then winked. “Are you?”
“Just bring me my salad,” Amelia said wryly. “Save the psychiatrist’s couch attitude for someone who needs it.”
Jenny leaned forward. “Speaking of couches…there’s someone I’d like to get on one.”
Amelia turned, her eyes following the direction of Jenny’s pencil and then nearly fell off the bar stool as Tyler Savage stared at them from across the room.
Oh God! He’s here! What do I do? What if he…? “Don’t get in such a snit,” she told herself. “Remember…he doesn’t know a thing.”
Misunderstanding the pep talk Amelia had given to herself, Jenny raised her eyebrows several inches. “That’s not what I hear. I hear he knows plenty. And if I had my way, he’d be teaching some of it to me.”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably under the force of their gaze. It was blatantly obvious that he was the focus of their conversation. He knew Jenny well, but he couldn’t place the woman at the counter. She looked familiar, but she wasn’t exactly his type. Her hair was wound up in a tight little knot on top of her head. Even worse, her glasses had long since gone out of style and her makeup was nonexistent. And that dress. Lord! His mother used to wear dresses like that. If that wasn’t enough, the way she’d ordered her food all sorted out and separate seemed a little prissy. Seemed a big waste of time considering it was all going to the same place.
Jenny elbowed Amelia who quickly turned her back on Tyler’s intent gaze. “I think he noticed we were talking about him.”
“He’d have to be blind not to. You were pointing.”
Jenny shrugged as she turned in Amelia’s order and picked Tyler’s up to deliver. “Doesn’t pay to be bashful, believe me.”
Amelia buried her face in her hands, hoping that this meal would pass with no hitches. There was no way he should be able to recognize her as Amber. After all, librarians didn’t vamp, they shelved.
Tyler grinned at the waitress as his food was placed in front of him. The aroma was enticing, and so was the thought of tonight. He could hardly wait to get to Savannah and pick up Amber for their night out.
“Be needing anything else?” Jenny asked with a wink. “Anything at all?”
Tyler grinned even wider. He knew Jenny was flirting, but it was a nonthreatening type of flirt and one with which he was very accomplished. “Now if I do, Jen, you’ll be the one I’ll call.”
Jenny smiled and then hurried away.
He dug into his food with relish. Jenny was nice. But she definitely didn’t have what Amber Champion had, including long legs, a tight, skimpy red outfit and a pair of the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Or were they blue? He tried to remember, but it was no use and it didn’t really matter. After tonight he’d know a whole lot more about Amber Champion than the color of her eyes.
Three
It hadn’t been easy to choose a dress for her date with Tyler because the salesgirl kept staring at the dresses Amelia was trying on. They were nothing like the plain shirtwaists that she usually wore, but Amber didn’t wear beige shirtwaists and that’s who Tyler had asked out on a date.