I moved closer to David.

My arm bumped his as we approached the cheerful facade of the Rawlings Hotel. The place shone like a friendly oasis in a dark desert. Strands of clear lights and green garland spiraled around tall white pillars and spilled from window boxes. Every pane of glass glowed a warm yellow. I could almost hear, floating on the night air, the strains of an old-fashioned piano. I half expected to walk into the circa 1900 building and see ladies and gents in period-appropriate finery singing Christmas carols.

We entered the lobby, which likewise had been transformed into a winter wonderland. A Christmas tree filled one corner. Its branches sparkled with silver and gold ornaments and yards of shiny ribbon.

I stared in unease. Had I known the downtown merchants decorated for Christmas in early November, I would have insisted David take me to some franchise that waited until the last minute to deck the halls. My appetite dwindled in the face of Christmas cheer I’d managed to avoid the past ten years.

I fingered a tiny crystal angel on the tree. Her wings were delicate but strong as she blew her trumpet to the glory of the newborn King.

Pressure built in my temples.

“Mom,” I whispered as a tear let go and dripped onto the ornament.

“The table’s ready,” David said, touching my arm.

I gave a good sniffle and wiped my cheek before turning around.

“Great,” I smiled up at him. “I’m dying to find out if the beef Wellington is as yummy as everyone says.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” He led me to a table set for two. A happy little flame danced on the center candle, and I hoped its good attitude would rub off on me. I’d been looking forward to my date with David all week. I couldn’t believe I would let bad traffic and a few premature Christmas decorations mar our time together.

I sat in the soft-bottom café chair and laid my ivory cloth napkin in my lap. No need to look at the menu. Beef Wellington was mandatory after Brad, then David, had recommended it.

David settled in across from me, looking devastatingly handsome in the candlelight. I wondered briefly what Officer Brad was doing this evening. I hoped he’d found something to occupy his time after I’d squashed his big date plans with me. Not really a date, I reminded myself. It was just a “welcome to the neighborhood” kind of thing. Brad had made that very plain.

David had made it just as clear that he was taking me on a real date, from the moment he’d announced his impending divorce to the gargantuan bouquet of roses upon arrival tonight. The down-to-earth Brad probably would have brought me two dozen tomatoes.

David set his menu to one side. I took that as a cue that I could start some conversation. We had a lot of ground to cover before we could get on with our relationship.

“So where do you work, exactly?” I asked. First things first.

He hesitated. “Onyx Technologies, in Southfield.”

I knew of Onyx. A tall, black-glassed building at the intersection of Telegraph Road and Eight Mile housed the billion-dollar computer software firm.

“That’s a bit of a drive, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Around fifty minutes one way if I hit the traffic lights right.”

“You must have flexible hours.” I remembered grocery shopping with him on a weekday.

“Yes. Very,” he said.

“You must enjoy that,” I said, a touch of awe in my voice.

“Like I said, I’d dreamed of a career in computers. When Onyx came courting five years ago, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They set me up with a U.S. work visa and got me out of paying over half my wage in taxes to the British government.”

“Do you miss England? Your family?”

He scrunched his chin. “Never had much of a family to miss. Mum died when I was young. Father did the best he could after that, I suppose, but five kids were too much for him. My oldest sister finished the job. I left for University and never went back. How about you?”

I sat silent for a moment, amazed at the similarity of our stories. “My mom died when I was seven. Dad was in and out of town most of the time, then pretty much disappeared from my life altogether around the time I lost Mom. Grandma took over and I did the university thing too.” I gave a shrug. “But that only lasted about a year and a half.”

David’s eyebrows lifted. “Didn’t care for your professors, huh?”

“I loved my classes. Just hit a string of bad luck. Gram got sick and I owed her big time for raising me. So I dropped out to care for her. I never got around to going back to school after she died.”

The waiter arrived with bottled water. He made a show of breaking the seal on the neck before pouring the contents into two glasses of ice. I breathed an inward sigh of relief for the diversion, hoping David would forget the topic of my grandmother altogether.

David put in our meal request. Then the waiter left, and David and I were alone again.

I leaned forward. “Did you know Casey?”

David stared at me. His brows pulled together. “Casey? You mean the girl from the coffee shop? I’ve gone in for a cup of tea on occasion, but I wouldn’t say I knew her. Not well, anyway.”

“Can you believe she’s dead? And supposedly from arsenic poisoning.” I took a sip from my glass. Cool, refreshing, and arsenic-free.

“It seems impossible. But they’re quite good with all that forensic stuff these days. If the coroner said arsenic poisoning, then arsenic it is,” David said.

“Personally, I think they ought to dig a little deeper. Do you suppose our neighbor is working on the case?”

David pushed back his chair and crossed his arms. “You mean Officer Walters? You’ve met him, I take it.”

“Sure I know Brad. He introduced himself my first night in town. Quite an introduction too, with the train blaring past.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

David scowled. “If Officer Walters is on the case, you can be sure they’ll never solve it. He’s an idiot.”

My defenses shot up. Brad might be a blight on my life most of the time, and maybe he had blown off the body-in-the-basement and the stick-in-the-window incidents, but he had also shown thoughtfulness and caring in other matters. David stepped over the line by flinging insults at him.

I cleared my throat. “I think highly of Brad. I hope you can be more generous toward him.”

David slowly nodded his head. He tipped his chair back on two legs and looked intently at me, eyes glinting. “I’m still getting over the fact that Brad Walters stole my wife. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that he’s already made the moves on you.”

20

My heart dropped into my stomach. I sat flabbergasted, staring at the flickering candle and mulling over David’s implications. I didn’t care that my Flamingo nails and Mango lips had come in full contact with one another.

Brad and Rebecca?

I caught myself chewing on a fingernail. At least it was fake.

I forced my hands to the table.

Was Brad the reason Rebecca had left David in the first place? But why weren’t Brad and Rebecca together now? I thought back to Halloween night, sitting with Brad on my porch. No wonder there had been a softness in the police officer’s voice when he spoke of Rebecca. He was still in love with her.

But if that were true, then Brad should be happy that Rebecca was divorcing David. Instead, the news had made him seem sad.

I glanced at David. His eyes looked raw.

He leaned forward and rested one hand on the tablecloth close to me. “I’m sorry I mentioned Rebecca. I promised myself I wouldn’t tonight.”

His voice sounded raspy.

Compassion bubbled up inside me. “There’s no reason to pretend you aren’t hurting.”

Dinner salads appeared on our place mats. The waiter made a silent escape.

David speared a cherry tomato. “Loving Rebecca was like loving a rainbow. Beautiful, but unattainable. The closer I tried to get, the further she’d slip away. Until there was nothing left between us. Absolutely nothing.”

My heart ached for him. “I’m sure you did the best you could. Some people simply can’t open themselves up.” I dug into my salad.

David gave a half smirk. “It’s nice of you to try and see Rebecca’s side. But the truth is, she’s a coldhearted witch who’d do anything to anybody as long as it meant getting ahead.”

I leaned back in my chair, hoping to dodge the beams of anger shooting from David’s eyes. From the turn the conversation had taken, I realized it was far too soon for him to be out on a date, unless it was with a licensed therapist.

I dabbed at my lips with my napkin. “Tell me about your renovation project. I’m so envious. Your place is just beautiful.”

David’s jaw clenched. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a monument to the three worst years of my life.”

I laughed. “I can relate. Anyone who survives a renovation project can tell a few war stories. Still, you must be pleased that everything turned out so well.”

“I believe all expectations were met. If they weren’t, the builder would still be there, doing it over until he got it right.”

“A perfectionist, I see.”

As far as my own projects went, perfection was a goal, not a requirement. I knew all too well how tricky old homes could be. Attempting perfection would drive me to the brink, if I weren’t there already.

“I’m no perfectionist,” David said. “The renovation was Rebecca’s baby. Literally.”

I chewed the last of my lettuce as I digested the disappointing news. I had been certain David was the brainchild behind the flawless revival. I had felt such a bond with him, such a kinship because of our common love for old homes. Now to find out Rebecca had handled all the details.