He shook his head. “Everyone there’s already married.”
“I’ll bet someone you know has offered to set you up with a blind date.”
Paul dismissed that idea with a shake of his head. “No, thanks.”
Bethanne didn’t blame him. “I saw one of those decorator pillows once that read I’ve had so many blind dates I need a Seeing Eye dog.”
They both laughed, but Paul quickly sobered. “I don’t think I’m going to find anyone who can make me laugh the way you do.”
“Well, try,” she challenged, rather than allowing the compliment to sway her.
“What about you?” he asked. “When you decide you’re ready, where are you planning to meet single men? Clubs?”
“Oh, hardly,” she said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “I don’t have the shoes for it.” He laughed, as she’d wanted him to. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Eventually I’ll meet someone, through a friend or my business or just by chance.”
“But you aren’t looking now?”
“No! Not yet.”
“Maybe you should.” His smile was infectious. He turned, craning his neck to take a good look around the restaurant.
“Paul! You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” he teased. “What about that guy over there—the one with the baseball cap?”
“Paul, stop it,” she hissed, keeping her voice low. “Stop it right this minute. Unless you want me to introduce you to a couple of women.” Turnabout was fair play, so she caught their waitress’s eye. The young woman picked up a coffeepot and brought it over to their table. Her badge said her name was Cindy.
“Hello, Cindy,” Bethanne said warmly. “This is Paul. He’s single and available.”
Cindy smiled shyly in Paul’s direction and added a quarter inch of coffee to their mugs.
“Would you be interested in dating a man like Paul?” Bethanne asked.
“Ah, sure.”
Cindy had proven Bethanne’s point. “What did I tell you?” she cried triumphantly.
“Cindy, what are you doing tomorrow after five?” Paul asked.
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Working, but I get off at nine.”
Soon Paul and Cindy were discussing where they’d go.
She left, smiling, and Paul leaned closer. “I want a contingency plan. I’ll do as you suggest, but if it doesn’t work out, I want you to know I’m coming back for you.”
“Paul,” she chastised, and then just gave in. “Oh, all right.”
“Good.” He grinned and lifted his mug in silent salute.
CHAPTER 40
“I do love a good yarn, fiction and fiber. The only thing that equals my joy in knitting is the pleasure of reading!”
LYDIA HOFFMAN
I visited Mom Sunday afternoon, and it was such a lovely autumn day that it seemed pointless to go back to an empty apartment. Sundays were the hardest for me. This particular Sunday, for some reason, felt lonelier than most. My love for Whiskers can take me only so far.
Mom looked better than she had in months, and seeing her smile cheered me considerably. Leaving her home of nearly fifty years must have been painful. I was grateful she’d accepted the upheaval in her life without an argument. After two weeks in a nursing home, the assisted living facility probably seemed like an extended vacation.
I think Mom understood, once she entered the hospital, that everything would change from that moment on. I could tell she was grateful to have less responsibility, although I don’t expect she’ll ever admit it. I know she missed her rose garden; I did, too.
We had lunch together in the dining room, and she introduced me to her new friends. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already met Ida and Francine last week and the week before that, too. Interestingly enough, Ida and Francine don’t appear to remember me, either.
Before leaving work on Friday evening, Margaret had invited me over for Sunday dinner but I’d declined. We see each other nearly every day and frankly, as much as I love my sister, I needed a break. I think she felt the same way since she readily accepted my explanation of “other plans.”
A number of subtle and not-so-subtle changes had taken place in the relationship between my sister and me. Margaret was knitting more, and I’d begun crocheting. It was almost as if we were both anxious to prove our willingness to see the other’s point of view.
With Sunday afternoon stretching before me, I drove to Green Lake. I’d missed walking the three-mile path around the lake with Brad and Cody and Chase. A dozen times or more, I’d stopped myself from driving there, but I decided not to stay away any longer. If Brad and Janice were on the path, I’d smile and greet them and simply keep going. Physical exercise is good for me and I refused to be deprived of an enjoyable walk just because there was a chance of an awkward encounter. I’d have to deal with it—and so would Brad.
It was a perfect day with the leaves just starting to turn and a light breeze coming off the water. I changed into my tennis shoes in the parking lot and stowed my purse in the trunk of my car. Carrying my car keys, I headed down the path.
I hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile when a golden retriever shot past me, dragging his leash. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough or alert enough to grab it. Somebody would be frantic about this runaway dog. For an instant I thought it was Chase, Cody’s dog, but it couldn’t be. Chase wasn’t that big. But within a few seconds, I heard Cody’s voice and I knew I was wrong.
“Chase! Chase! Get back here.”
I turned to look over my shoulder and saw that Cody was fast gaining on me. When he noticed me he halted abruptly, looked back, forward and then back again.
“Lydia,” he shouted and ran toward me, his arms open wide.
I caught him and hugged him close.
“I have to catch Chase,” he said, his eyes pleading with mine.