Head Over Heels. Beth Harbison
it very clear that she didn’t want him to know. She was terrified of losing Michael, it seemed, and not because she loved him. Hell, if she’d loved him, she wouldn’t have been with Luke. No, she wanted the Bowes name and everything that went with it. She wanted to be half of the golden couple of Blue Moon Bay. No matter what the cost.
For a while, Luke hadn’t wanted to believe that Grace was so shallow. But Michael had told him exactly what the arrangement was, just a few months after they’d gotten married. While Grace had stayed behind, pregnant, Michael had come back to town for his grandmother’s funeral. During that short week, Michael had slept with at least two women that Luke knew of. Just like in high school. As a matter of fact, he’d left Harley’s Bar with one of them about ten minutes after bragging to Luke about the “open arrangement” he and Grace had in their marriage.
She made the deal with me. She’s got what she wants, Michael had told Luke. Big house, imported car, President of the Junior League. And I get a good-looking arm piece when I have to go out.
So what do you want with someone like Mary Jo Wiley? Luke had asked, indicating one of the tightjeaned women who was waving to Michael from the bar.
Excitement, man. Michael’s laugh had been harsh. Heat. Grace is as cold as ice in the bedroom.
Luke knew with some certainty that that wasn’t true. Or if it was, it wasn’t her fault.
Still, who was he to question what went on in someone else’s marriage? It was their problem, not his.
His problem, now, was that Michael was history, and Grace was back, and some part of Luke’s eighteen-year-old libido remembered her.
* * *
Jimmy held tightly onto his mother’s hand. He knew it was babyish, but he was just so excited he couldn’t help it.
For the first time, he was beginning to feel like maybe this town wasn’t so bad. Maybe he actually even liked the quiet streets and the big yards and the fact that he was able to get a dog—a real, live dog—for the first time in his life.
They were at the pound, although his mother called it the humane society, and a guy in a blue uniform was opening a door for them to go look at the dogs.
As soon as he stepped through, Jimmy smiled. He couldn’t help it. The room smelled like pee and the sound of yelping and barking was so loud, he could barely hear his mom telling him to keep his fingers out of the cage, but to him it was heaven.
He walked slowly up the cement aisle, being sure to make eye contact with each dog along the way. He was positive that when he saw his dog, he’d know it. He walked past big scruffy dogs, and little happy dogs, and sleek dogs, and sleeping dogs, but only one dog came over and poked his nose through the metal fence at Jimmy. After that, he didn’t need to look in the dog’s hopeful brown eyes to know.
“This is the one,” he announced.
His mother frowned and came over to him. “Really?” She poked a finger through the cage—just what she’d told Jimmy not to do—and the dog licked her excitedly. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. And his name is…” He thought for a minute. Last night when he was lying in bed, the name he’d come up with had seemed so perfect. Now, though, he was afraid it was a little dumb.
“What’s his name?” his mom asked.
He decided to go ahead and say it. After all, his mom never laughed at him, but she’d tell him the truth. “It’s Tonto. Do you think that’s too goofy?”
“No, it’s great. Look, he even answers to it. Tonto!” She made her voice high. “Tonto! Here, boy!”
The little dog looked up and tilted his head to the side, wagging his tail.
“See?” She laughed. “That’s his name, all right.”
Jimmy smiled and touched the dog’s cold nose. “What kind of breed do you think he is?”
“He looks a little like a Jack Russell terrier. With, maybe, some springer spaniel or something mixed in. I’m not sure.” She stood up and smoothed her skirt down. She was all dressed up to go to some big test in the afternoon. “Are you sure this is the one you want, Jimmy?” she asked seriously. “Because you can’t just bring him back, you know.”
“I know. This is the one I want. And I’ll never want to give him back,” he said ferociously, thinking of his father and how long it had been since he’d come to see Jimmy and his mom. “Ever.”
* * *
Later that night, Grace had her own taste of excitement.
“Congratulations, you’re a bus driver!” Jenna raised her champagne glass and clinked it against Grace’s, sloshing the fizzy drink onto their hands.
“Thank you, thank you very much.” Grace raised her glass to her lips and closed her eyes, relishing the yeasty taste of her favorite vintage. She had half a case of it left—one of the more valuable parts of her divorce settlement—and the way things were going, she might just work her way through it this weekend.
She raised her glass to her new license, which she and Jenna had propped against a candle in the middle of the table. “To me,” she said with a giggle. “Oh, and to Bob for taking care of all the kids—and the dog—tonight, so we could have a girls’ night.”
“To Bob,” Jenna repeated, raising her own glass again. She took a sip then set it down and asked, “Say, where’s your mom?”
“Bridge club.”
Jenna frowned. “I thought they met during the day.”
“She’s got a bunch of them now.” Grace shrugged. “Several of them meet at night. In fact, they go really late.” Silently, Grace hoped that she didn’t end up at the high end of middle-aged alone and filling her time with card-playing.
“Ooh, maybe she’ll meet someone.” Jenna smiled. “Some dashing, card-playing Omar Sharif type.”
“Please,” Grace said. “Mother hasn’t been on a date since before I was born. I can’t even imagine her starting now.”
Jenna nodded. “It would be weird. But what about you? Think you’re going to get back into dating here?”
Grace groaned. “Who would I go out with? You snagged the only good man in Blue Moon Bay. And he’s not even from here.” Bob had moved into town ten years ago when he’d got a job with a carpentry company. He and Jenna had met when she’d hired him to build bookshelves.
Jenna raised an eyebrow. “I can think of one or two guys here who used to be interesting to you,” she said in a sing-songy voice.
“My track record with old Blue Moon love interests isn’t so good, Jen.”
“Well, Michael didn’t turn out so hot, but maybe someone else would. Let’s do your tarot cards and see,” Jenna said eagerly, reaching for her bag. “I brought them along so I could practice on you.”
“No, no, no, I don’t believe in those things.”
“So what’s the harm then?” Jenna asked, opening a small leather pouch. “Just do it for fun. Here.” She thrust the large deck into Grace’s hands. “Shuffle.”
“This is stupid,” Grace protested, shuffling.
“No, it’s not. Now cut the deck.”
“I don’t believe any of it.” She cut the deck.
“The cards will tell,” Jenna said, in a spooky voice, then laughed. “Pick one and put it here, then put the next one here.”
Grace picked cards according to Jenna’s direction, and Jenna set them up in an elaborate layout. Finally, with ten cards facedown on the table in the shape of a pentagon, she put