After the bridesmaids were done with their fittings, the four friends drove to their favorite place to meet for lunch. Cafй Olй didn’t have the best Mexican food in town, but it did have the best pitchers of margaritas. They were shown to one of their favorite booths, and over piped-in mariachi Muzak, they caught up. They talked about Clare’s wedding and Lucy’s plans to start a family with her hunk of a husband Quinn. And they wanted to hear all about Maddie’s life, one hundred miles north in Truly.
“It’s actually not as bad as I’d thought,” she said as she raised her drink to her lips. “It’s very beautiful and quiet—well, except on the Fourth. Half the women in town have really bad hair, and the other half look great. I’m trying to figure out if it’s a native vs. snowbird thing, but so far I can’t tell.” She shrugged. “I thought spending so much time cooped up in my house would drive me insane, but it hasn’t.”
“You know I love you,” Lucy said, which was always followed by a but. “But you are already totally insane.”
Probably that was true.
“How’s the book?” Clare asked as a waitress brought their food.
“Slow.” She’d ordered a chicken tostada salad and picked up her fork as soon as the waitress left. She’d only told her friends about her plans to write about her mother’s death a few weeks ago, long after she’d found the diaries and bought her house in Truly. She didn’t know why she’d waited. She usually wasn’t shy about sharing the details of her personal life with her friends, sometimes to their shock and horror, but reading her mother’s diaries had left her so raw, she’d needed time to adjust and take it all in before she talked about it with anyone.
“Have you met the Hennessys?” Adele asked as she dug into an enchilada oozing with cheese and topped with sour cream. Adele worked out every day, and as a result could eat whatever she wanted. Maddie, on the other hand, hated exercise.
“I’ve met Mick and his nephew Travis.”
“What was Mick’s reaction to your writing the book?”
“Well, he doesn’t know.” She took a bite of her salad, then added, “The time just hasn’t been right to talk to him about it.”
“So.” Lucy’s brows drew together. “What have you talked to him about?”
That neither of them could see themselves married and that he liked her butt and the way she smelled. “Mice, mostly.” Which was kind of the truth.
“Wait.” Adele held up one hand. “He knows who you are, who your mother was, and he just wants to chat about mice?”
“I haven’t told him who I am.” All three friends paused in the act of eating to stare at her. “While he’s working in his bar, or when everyone’s standing around a barbeque, isn’t the place to walk up to him and say, ‘My name is Maddie Jones and your mother killed mine.’” Her friends nodded in agreement and went back to their meals. “And yesterday was just bad timing all around. I’d had a crappy day. He was nice and brought me the Mouse Motel and then he kissed me.” She speared a piece of chicken and avocado. “After that, I just forgot.”
All three friends paused once again.
“To borrow your favorite phrase,” Lucy said, “are you shitting me?”
Maddie shook her head. Maybe she should have kept that one to herself. Too late now.
Now it was Clare’s turn to hold up one hand. “Wait. Clear something up for me.”
“Yes.” Maddie answered what she thought was the next logical question. The one she would have asked. “He’s really hot and he’s good. My thighs about went up in flames.”
“That wasn’t the question.” Clare glanced around, as she always tended to do when she thought Maddie was being inappropriate in a public place. “You made out with Mick Hennessy and he has no idea who you are? What do you think is going to happen when he finds out?”
“I imagine he’s going to be really pissed off.”
Clare leaned forward. “You imagine?”
“I don’t know him well enough to predict how he’ll feel.” But she did. She knew he was going to be angry, and she knew she sort of deserved it. Although, to be fair to herself, there really hadn’t been a good time to tell him. And she hadn’t come to his house and kissed him breathless. He’d done that to her.
“When you do tell him, make sure you have your Cobra,” Lucy advised.
“He’s not a violent guy. I won’t need to Taser him.”
“You don’t know him.” Adele pointed her fork at Maddie and pointed out the obvious. “His mother killed yours.”
“And as you are always pointing out to us, it’s the sane-looking ones you have to watch out for,” Clare reminded Maddie.
“And that without personal safety devices, we’re all sitting ducks.” Lucy laughed and lifted her drink. “‘And the next thing you know, some guy is wearing your head for a hat.’”
“Remind me again why I’m friends with you three?” Maybe because they were the only people alive who cared about her. “I’ll tell him. I’m just picking my moment.”
Clare sat back against the seat. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“You’re afraid.”
Maddie picked up her margarita and took a long drink until the backs of her eyeballs froze. “I call it being a little apprehensive.” She placed a warm palm on her brow. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
The black metal frame on a pair of Revo high-resolution sunglasses sat on the bridge of Mick’s nose while the blue mirrored lenses shaded his eyes from the scorching six o’clock sun. As he walked across the school parking lot, his gaze was intent on player number twelve in the blue Hennessy’s T-shirt and the red batter’s helmet. He’d been busy going over the books and ordering beer from the distributor and he’d missed the first inning.
“Come on, Travis,” he called out and sat on the bottom row of bleacher seats. He leaned forward to place his forearms on the tops of his thighs.
Travis rested the bat on one shoulder as he approached the black rubber T. He took several practice swings like his coach had shown him as the opposing team, Brooks Insurance, stood in the field, mitts at the ready. Travis got into the perfect batter’s stance, swung, and completely missed.
“That’s okay, buddy,” Mick called out to him.
“You’ll get it this time, Travis,” Meg yelled down from where she sat in the top row next to her friends and fellow T-ball moms.
Mick glanced up at his sister before returning his gaze to the plate. Last night’s dinner at her house had been perfectly fine. She’d made steak and baked potatoes and had been the fun-loving Meg most people knew. And the whole time, he hadn’t wanted to be there. He’d wanted to be across town. In a house on the lake with a woman he knew nothing about. Talking about mice and burying his nose in the side of her neck.
There was something about Maddie Dupree. Something besides the beautiful face, the hot body, and the smell of her skin. Something that made him think about her when he should be thinking about other things. Distracted while he looked over his accounting system for errors.
Travis once again got into stance and took a swing. This time he connected and sent the ball hurling between second and third base. He dropped the bat and took off for first and his helmet slid back and forth on his head as he ran. The ball bounced and rolled past the outfielder, who took off after it. The first base coach urged Travis to keep going and he made it all the way to third before the outfielder picked up the ball and threw it a few feet. Travis took off again and did a beauty of a slider into home while the outfielder and second baseman fought over the ball.
Mick hollered and gave Travis the thumbs-up. Extremely proud as if he were the boy’s daddy instead of his uncle. For the time being, he was the male in Travis’s life. Travis hadn’t seen his father in five years, and Meg didn’t know where he was. Or, more likely, she didn’t want to know where the deadbeat was. Mick had met Gavin Black one time, at Meg’s wedding. He’d summed him up in one glance as a loser, and he’d been right.