Close to Home. Deborah Raney
two chili dogs, and a milkshake.”
Straight-faced, she pretended to enter his long list into her phone notes.
He laughed and playfully grabbed her phone. “I’m kidding, you nut! You want to share a large popcorn?”
“Sure. No nachos?”
“Popcorn and sodas ought to do it.”
She placed their order, trying not to gasp when it came to almost ten dollars.
“Been a while since you’ve been to the movies?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder and led the way down the corridor to the theater.
She let him choose their seats and followed him to the center section, center of the row, halfway up. She and Tim had always had to sit on an aisle—Tim’s always-on-alert instincts strong even before he joined the Marines.
Sitting beside Aaron now, she knew she might feel a little claustrophobic if the theater got crowded, but at least he hadn’t made her worry about his intentions by choosing a dark corner at the back of the theater.
She needn’t have worried about feeling closed in. Except for a group of giggly teens a few rows behind them and an elderly couple on the front row, they had the theater to themselves. With twenty minutes until the film started, they chatted about work and joked about their escapades with the last-minute funeral chairs.
“You were a good sport, Whitman. Especially the part about not making me get a Mohawk. I promise I’ll give you more notice next time around.”
“There’d better not be a next time, Jakes.”
He shrugged one shoulder and took a slurp of his Coke. “I’ll try.”
“Do or do not,” she said, doing her best Yoda imitation. “There is no try.”
He laughed. “I thought you never went to the movies.”
“That movie is probably the last time I did.”
“Get out of here. You weren’t even born when that movie came out.”
“Middle School obsession. We watched it four times back-to-back at a slumber party once.” And it had been Tim’s favorite of the Star Wars movies.
“Interesting. I always wondered what happened at slumber parties.”
“Ahh. Much to learn you still have.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me—”
She nodded. “Yoda.” Why did she have to go and quote Yoda. That had been her and Tim’s thing. She’d captivated him on their first date by quoting his favorite movie character—or so he claimed—at length. And it had been love at first sight.
Now, she was grateful when the curtain began to rise.
She and Aaron both cracked up when one of the previews featured Yoda himself in yet a new Star Wars film. The feature film was lighthearted and clever, and made them both laugh—thankfully, in a rated-PG way. Maybe she should start going to the movies again. She settled in, feeling comfortable with Aaron, and realizing that for the first time in a long time, she felt truly relaxed and happy somewhere outside of Chicory Lane.
When the credits rolled, Aaron turned to her and whispered, “Did you like that?”
She smiled. “I did.”
“Want to come see the Yoda movie with me next weekend?”
She made a face. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” He gathered up the trash from their snacks off the floor and rose.
She followed him out of the theater, picking her way through spilled popcorn and abandoned nachos. She’d let her guard down and let him take advantage of that. No. That wasn’t fair. He was only behaving as any man who liked a girl and wanted to ask her out. It wasn’t fair to Aaron to keep dragging her feet this way. Either she was ready to date again, and Aaron was a great person to start with—maybe even end with? Or she was just not ready, and she had to tell him now and quit leading him on.
Tim. For so many years, she’d wanted him to be a constant in her thoughts and even in her subconscious. He’d begun to fade from her memory after the first two years had flown by. She’d panicked at the odd feeling of losing him all over again. But then she’d decided it was the natural thing. A blessing even, for his memory to fade.
But since she’d entertained the idea of going out with Aaron, Tim had been as present in her thoughts as he had in those dreadful days immediately after his funeral. She had to get over him. It was one thing to mourn the love of your life for a few years after he was gone. But she was bordering on crazy. This had to stop.
Blinking against the sunlight as they came out of the theater, she turned to Aaron, forcing a smile. “Okay. I’ve thought about it. I’d love to go to the Yoda movie with you.”
He looked taken aback. Which made her laugh.
And suddenly the good feelings were back again, and Tim was in the background—where he belonged? The thought felt cruel. And yet she thought it was right. Wasn’t it? “What time should I be ready?”
“Ready? What know you of ready?”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Excuse me?”
“Yoda.” He laughed, looking sheepish. “I guess I kind of mangled it.”
“Well, you’d better brush up before Saturday.”
He gave a little salute. “How does six o’clock sound? That’ll give us time to get something to eat first.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up. Except you’ll have to tell me where you live.”
“I’ll tell you next week. At work.”
“Sounds good.” He turned for his car, waving over his shoulder.
It would have been nice if he’d walked her to her car, but after all, she was the one who hadn’t wanted this to be a date.
Still, date or not, it had been a good afternoon. She smiled all the way home. And wished she could figure out whether it was because she’d had such a good time with Aaron. Or because Aaron had made her feel the way she used to feel with Tim. With her husband.
Chapter 6
6
Audrey swatted at a fat bumblebee and forged into the field of wildflowers, scissors in hand. To her amazement, there were still a few daylilies blooming, but if she cut enough for a bouquet, the wildflower patch they’d planted wouldn’t be nearly as impressive.
She could have killed Grant for “accidentally” spraying the wildflowers last time he’d sprayed for some bug he imagined had invaded the property—and in the process, killing off several species of the wildflowers they’d waited all summer to see.
She wished the man would just let the ecosystem take care of itself and quit worrying about bugs. Of course, the bugs mostly left her alone, and unlike Grant, she didn’t swell up like a balloon at the mere breath of a mosquito.
She shouldn’t complain. Grant did nearly all the gardening and yard work and helped her entertain guests when he could. Plus, he took care of his mother’s house in Langhorne and mowed her lawn as well. What he was doing that very afternoon, in fact.
So she had no room to complain. She’d made a few costly mistakes herself since they opened the inn. If she dared call Grant on his wayward bug spraying, he would certainly remind her about the double-booking incident.
She laughed to herself at the reminder, although it hadn’t been one bit funny at the time. They’d ended up giving the later-arriving couple the option of sleeping on the Hide-A-Bed in the inn’s basement—for free—or paying for them to stay in a hotel in Cape. Of course, they chose the hotel. Ouch.
No,