A Memory Away. Melinda CurtisЧитать онлайн книгу.
With effort, Duffy turned away from Rutgar and his binoculars. “Don’t they feed you lunch?”
“Yep.” Ryan gave a peace sign to the crowd. Appreciative shouts and laughter drifted back on a breeze. “And they do my laundry—which my mother refuses to do anymore.”
Hello, mama’s boy.
Duffy clipped a vine. “You’re quite the chick magnet.”
“I’ll get there. I’d like to be debt-free first.”
Having only recently had his financial burdens lifted, Duffy admired Ryan for that.
“Did you have fun in Vegas last weekend?” Ryan asked.
“Yep.” It had been great to decide Friday afternoon to go somewhere on the spur of the moment. Another few weeks and he’d make another trip somewhere. Anywhere. “I can’t wait to get away again.” Duffy loved the lack of pressing family and financial obligations, embraced the idea of leaving just because he could.
What about Jessica’s baby?
Duffy swept the thought aside. Jessica’s baby wasn’t his responsibility or any of his business.
He, on the other hand, was still at the center of these Harmony Valley residents’ business. Increasingly so, much to his annoyance.
He couldn’t wait for someone new to move to town.
“WHAT’S A LITTLE RAIN?” Jessica asked herself sarcastically as she parked on Harmony Valley’s Main Street on Saturday night. The rain had been coming down steadily for the entire drive. Now it was pouring.
She’d located the restaurant the other day before she left town. There’d been almost no one parked on the street then. Tonight, the diagonal spaces along Main were full. She’d had to find a spot a block away from El Rosal.
“Perfect.” It wasn’t. She hadn’t brought an umbrella. With her baby bump, it was enough that she had to juggle her purse and walk. Adding an umbrella to the mix was a bit much for her equilibrium on a windy night. “So much for doing my hair.” For the first time in months, she’d put her long hair in rollers. It tumbled about her shoulders in soft waves that made her feel more like her nonpregnant self.
She gathered her purse and raised the hood on her jacket. Her girth brushed against the steering wheel. Baby shimmied in a way that made her feel nauseous.
Jess counted to twenty, hoping the nausea would pass and the rain would let up. Her stomach settled. The rain intensified. It was nearly six. She couldn’t sit here any longer.
She pushed open the door. Before her feet so much as swung out of the car, she was wet. Rain plastered her face and lap. She walked with lumbering steps toward El Rosal, feet splashing in barely seen puddles.
The wind practically blew her into the restaurant decorated in an overload of primary colors. Red, yellow, green, blue. Walls, tables, chairs. It looked as loud as it sounded. The place was full. The music was blaring. And so had the conversation been, until everyone turned her way and stopped talking.
Duffy stood at a table by the window, looking glad to see her.
People began whispering, and Duffy frowned, maybe not so glad to see her.
She’d never been good at making a graceful entrance, and tonight was no different. Her hair drooped and as usual she’d been unable to close her jacket. The red maternity sweater over her baby bump was wet and clinging. She met Duffy’s gaze, and gestured toward the ladies’ room.
The bathroom mirror revealed a drowned, pregnant raccoon. She wiped at the mascara beneath her eyes, used the hand dryer to blow most of her hair and the sweater over her belly dry and shook the rest of the water from her coat.
An elderly woman with teased, purplish hair and a kind smile entered the ladies’ room as Jess was finishing. “Hello, sweets. Are you all right?”
“Just a little wet.” Jessica stepped aside so the woman could wash her hands.
“I’m Eunice. Duffy’s next-door neighbor.”
Jessica introduced herself.
Eunice took inventory of Jessica’s clothes and belly, but not in a negative way. “Are you Duffy’s girlfriend?”
“No!” The word burst forth with enough energy to heat Jessica’s cheeks.
Someone knocked on the door. “Everything okay in there?” It was Duffy.
Eunice was still waiting for more of an answer.
“I’m, uh...not his, uh...”
“Jess?” Duffy again. Mr. Persistent.
Jess tried to smile. “I’m sorry... I...uh... I have pregnant brain.”
Eunice’s gray brows puckered together.
“Baby steals my brain cells.”
When Eunice still looked confused, Jessica excused herself and hurried out.
Duffy led her across the dining room, looking small-town hip in work boots, jeans and a forest green Henley. “I saw Eunice follow you in.” He pulled out a chair for Jess. “She can be a bit...overzealous.”
She sat. “Eunice was fine.” It was Jess who’d shouted like an angry cockatoo.
He’d ordered a bottle of beer, and had a glass of water for her. Chips and salsa served as the table’s centerpiece.
“You missed a spot of mascara.” He took a paper napkin and gently wiped at her cheek.
Greg ran the back of his hand across her cheekbone. “So beautiful.”
That was love. That was definitely love.
Jess blinked, as Greg’s face morphed into Duffy’s. “Thank you.”
While he sat, Jess took a moment to look around. The clientele was mostly in their seventies and eighties. They studied her with unabashed curiosity. “Is this seniors’ night?”
“No. This is Harmony Valley, average age seventy-five.” He raised his beer bottle in salute.
“That must make for a swinging singles scene for you.”
He almost smiled. She noted his lips twitching upward before he hid behind his beer.
“Why are they staring at me?” It was beginning to creep Jess out.
“They don’t know you.” He seemed half amused and half annoyed as he leaned closer to the woman at the table next to him, and practically shouted, “This is Jessica. She used to date my brother.”
The woman nodded, smiled at Jess and then addressed the next table over and relayed the news.
Duffy righted himself and lowered his voice. “Sometimes you have to use your outside voice. They don’t always wear their hearing aids.”
Was he joking? “Have you been drinking?”
“This is my second.” Of which he’d drank very little. “I’ve been in town less than a month. I’m still the new guy and a curiosity. Most people who’ve moved here recently are either related to someone or grew up here. In a word, known.” There was a sharpness to his voice that hinted at annoyance. “I’m a stranger. And I don’t talk much.”
He was talking just fine to her. Much better than he had the other day.
“They’re still trying to figure me out.” He raised a hand to acknowledge Eunice, who sat on the opposite side of the room with several other older women—all looking their way. “I caught Eunice peeping into my kitchen window the other morning.”
Jess