Part 25 (1/2)
”Of course you do,” he said comfortingly. ”I understand. A woman has...needs.”
Needs? Oh, no. Not those kinds of needs. ”Del, you've misunderstood-”
He patted her arm. ”You don't have to be ashamed, Muriel. You're only human.”
And Del Stone was subhuman, and proof that charm and character didn't always go hand in hand.
”After dinner, let's go back to my place. I've got a Chablis I know you'll love.”
Pa.s.s number one, she could excuse. He'd been drunk. Pa.s.s number two, there was no excuse. ”Del Stone, my husband has been gone less than a month. What are you thinking?” Silly question. It was obvious.
”Nothing,” he insisted. ”I just thought you needed comforting.”
”I don't,” she snapped. ”I need money. And now I need to go home.” She started scooting out of the booth.
”But we just ordered.”
”I'm sure you can eat your meal and mine.”
”Muriel, don't leave,” he pleaded.
”I'm afraid I'm not hungry anymore,” she said, and left.
She marched from the restaurant and down the street. Of all the nerve! What was it about widows that made men think they could just waltz in and take advantage like that?
It took half a block for her to acknowledge that she herself was part of the problem. She'd been the one to call Del, hoping she could persuade him to help bail her out. What was he supposed to think except that she was a lost, lonely widow?
She was. Her heart hurt. And now so did her feet, thanks to these ridiculous heels that pinched her toes. Still, there were no taxis in a town the size of Icicle Falls. She would be limping home.
She was halfway there when a car cruised up beside her. She turned to inform Del that she wasn't getting into his car, only to discover that the car wasn't Del's. It was a conservative black Lexus and Arnie, her old friend from the bank, sat behind the wheel, looking at her with concern.
He rolled down the window and called, ”Do you need a lift?”
She nodded and gratefully got in.
”I was just on my way home from the grocery store when I saw you,” he explained.
”Well, thank you for stopping,” she said. ”You saved my life. My feet are killing me.”
Arnie wasn't the handsomest man on the planet. He was thin and his hair was doing a disappearing act. But he had a beautiful heart and he knew shoes. ”Those are nice,” he observed, ”but not exactly walking shoes.”
”I hadn't intended to walk,” she said. She removed one of the offending heels and rubbed her aching toes. ”I left a dinner engagement early.”
Arnie didn't ask questions. He merely nodded as if that was the most normal behavior in the world. ”How are you doing these days, Muriel? I haven't seen you since the memorial.”
Samantha had told her not to talk about the business but surely that didn't include Arnie. He knew about their loan. But did he know they were behind? Maybe not. Maybe she shouldn't say anything. ”I'm managing,” she lied. She didn't have to tell him that she was managing to ruin everything she touched.
He looked over at her and frowned. ”All right. Now, tell me how you're really doing.”
A tear slid down her cheek. ”Awful. Waldo didn't keep up the payments on his life insurance, I'm upside down on the house...” She stopped herself there. What she'd already shared was depressing enough.
”Oh, Muriel,” he said sadly.
She sounded pathetic. How humiliating! ”I'll work things out.”
”I have a little money set aside.”
Oh, no. She wasn't going down that road again.
”I couldn't ask it of you, but thank you for being such a good friend.”
He wanted to be more. He'd wanted to be more well before Waldo came along. She supposed if she'd married Arnie she would never have had to worry about money. He was gainfully employed, now working as a claims adjustor for an insurance company in Wenatchee, and he could balance a checkbook. Still, that was no guarantee of stability. A man could lose his health and his mental faculties, leaving both his wife and his checkbook vulnerable. There really was only one person a woman could depend on-herself. It was time she learned that lesson.
”Isn't that what friends are for, to help?” he countered.
”I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm going to have to figure out how to fix my problems without borrowing from anyone. I could use some advice, though.”
”I'll be happy to do that,” he said. ”And if you do find yourself in a pinch, don't hesitate to call.”
She was already in a pinch.
That will change, she told herself. Life was always changing, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. As bad as things were now, they had no way to go but up.
Samantha and Ca.s.s sat at Bavarian Brews, fortifying themselves with caffeine. ”I swear I'm going to end up in a straitjacket if my daughter has anything to do with it,” Ca.s.s said.
Oh, no. Had Amber already broken her promise to reform? Samantha suddenly felt like an accomplice to a crime. Maybe she should have told Ca.s.s. If she were a mother, would she want a friend keeping this kind of information from her?
”What's she done?” Samantha asked cautiously.
”Cut cla.s.s,” Ca.s.s said in disgust.
”I can think of worse things,” Samantha said. Smoking. Shoplifting. Failing to tell a friend you'd caught her kid sampling coffin nails.
”I know.” Ca.s.s nodded. ”I cut a couple of cla.s.ses in my day. It's the kids she was with. I don't like who she's hanging out with these days.”
Samantha didn't, either.
”G.o.d knows what she'll do next. By the way, she came home with a box of your chocolates. She says you gave them to her.”
”I did,” Samantha said, and hoped Ca.s.s wouldn't ask why.
”Why? What was that about?”
”Call it a bribe.”
Ca.s.s took a sip of her mocha. ”A bribe, huh?”