Winter Reunion. Roxanne Rustand
when you insisted on a divorce. But you have your life in the service and other relationships to pursue, I’m sure. The last thing you needed were bothersome ties to a wife back home. Right?”
His eyebrows drew together.
“It didn’t take long for me to get over it, really.” She managed a smile, even though her heart was pounding against her ribs and the half-truth now lodged in her throat like a chunk of granite. “So don’t worry about having to deal with any big scenes from me. I have no regrets.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s…good.”
“So with that cleared up, it shouldn’t be hard to maintain a business relationship with each other, right?” She fluttered a dismissive hand. “The other thing I need to clarify is that your mother’s will was a complete surprise. I had no idea she’d included me, and I certainly didn’t try to finagle my way into her good graces.”
“I never said—”
“But you might have thought it. Just so you know, your mother was polite but distant to me after the divorce. Even before that, we were never chummy during all the times you were away in the service. There were no little chats, no invitations for coffee. So if you’re imagining any sort of collusion regarding you, her will or my bookstore building, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “I didn’t suggest anything of the sort.”
“She stayed in your corner,” Beth added for emphasis. “And I didn’t expect or seek anything more. Now it’s your turn.”
“What?”
“If you have any concerns or questions, go for it.”
He fell silent, his intense gaze locked on hers, as if he were examining her very soul. “I…guess not,” he said at last.
“Good. So now we can try to be friendly business associates, at least. No other expectations.”
“Right.”
“It’s good to see you in one piece,” she added. “When I heard you’d been wounded, I started praying that you’d be all right.”
His gaze shifted away. “Thanks.”
Years ago, he might’ve added a sardonic laugh at any acknowledgment of her faith, but this time he actually seemed to mean it. Yet another way he’d changed into someone she no longer knew, she mused. “So you think your shoulder will be fine for active duty?”
“It had better be,” he muttered.
He edged away and she saw the glint of something at his ear. “Was…that your only injury this time?”
“Pretty much.” But then he caught her studying him, and he sighed. “That, and a little hearing loss,” he admitted. “Just temporary.”
“I read a Newsweek article that said a lot of soldiers suffer permanent hearing loss because of the gunfire and explosions. Then they can’t go back.”
“It won’t be an issue,” he bit out as he strode to the entryway. “Not with me.”
Though she’d told herself that she wouldn’t ever waste the time, she thought about Devlin as she headed back to the bookstore.
He had caught the eye of all the girls in high school, and no wonder. But while his golden-flecked, whiskey-brown eyes and the dark sweep of his eyebrows had bordered on heartthrob handsome as a teenager, now he was at least six feet of solid muscle, and the uncompromising planes and angles of his lean face were attractive in a far more rugged way.
They’d married young—too young. They’d probably been as much in love with love itself as they’d been in love with each other. With her own rocky family life—a free-spirited, irresponsible mother and a dad she barely knew—marriage had promised love and stability, and offered the kind of security she’d rarely felt growing up.
In comparison, Dev’s family had seemed like something straight out of a happy TV sitcom—parents who’d been married for over twenty years, who’d lived in the same house since before Dev was born, who lived their faith in a steadfast way. She’d imagined that when she and Dev were that old, they’d be just like them.
She’d discovered the truth much later.
Alan’s ironclad expectation that Dev would achieve nothing less than straight A’s in high school and then go into medicine had sparked extreme tension between them. With Alan, nothing was ever good enough…and Vivian had sided with her husband.
For coming through his teen years as balanced as he was, given the constant criticism he faced at home, Beth had been completely impressed with Dev’s strength. She’d been so sure their marriage would be a safe and happy shelter from the world.
But growing up in a cold and distant household and building a career in the military hadn’t made him a warmer guy.
Then out of the blue, he’d come home from a tour in some undisclosed place, and announced that their marriage was over. No explanations, no apologies…and the next day he was gone.
He’d been a wild one, a charmer in high school, and she should have known better than to risk her heart.
It wouldn’t be something she’d ever do again.
Beth eyed the antique grandfather clock opposite the checkout counter. The stately pendulum swung back and forth. Back and forth. Slower, it seemed, than ever before.
Twenty-four minutes to go, and counting.
Sauntering through the empty store once more, she straightened books and fluffed the colorful patchwork pillows strewn on the overstuffed chairs angled into every corner.
She’d let Janet, her sole employee, leave early to make it to her twins’ Friday night football game in nearby Parkersville, and since then there’d been exactly two customers who’d braved the unseasonable chilly evening to stop in.
Both were frequent browsers, but the gentleman did put a heavy coffee-table book on Egyptian art on layaway, and his cheerful little wife selected several magazines while she sipped hot peach tea.
Eighteen minutes.
Beth thought longingly of the raspberry scones and hot chocolate that she’d savor upstairs in less than an hour. After today, she needed that and a good hot bubble bath, too.
Nearly two-dozen three-year-olds had run amok in the store during the morning—ostensibly for story time, though they were new to the preschool experience and none landed in one spot long enough to hear more than a few consecutive words.
As soon as they left, both Beth and Janet had flopped onto the red velvet sofa in the History section and burst into laughter.
The afternoon had been quieter, with the garden club ladies using the meeting area to discuss the town square gardens for next year.
And then there’d been her talk with Dev.
Even now, her midsection felt jittery and unsettled, though she was pretty sure she’d carried off her visit with an air of calm detachment that had conveyed none of her true emotions.
Lord, I hope You’ll help me through the next six months, because it isn’t going to be easy.
She eyed the clock again. Fifteen minutes to go. Good enough.
Her step lighter, she made one more sweep of the store, checking the windows and back door, then ended up at the front register where she began counting out the cash drawer.
The jangle of the bells over the front door startled her and she spun in that direction. Her mouth fell open at the rainbow apparition standing just inside. “Mom?”
“Sugar!” Metal bracelets clanging and overlarge hoop earrings flashing, Maura Carrigan swept forward in a flurry of multiple layers of fuchsia and peridot scarves and shawls over some sort of canary, gauzy muumuu underneath.