The woman grabbed paper toweling from the dispenser and continued. “Sandra had everything going for her. She could have picked anybody to be her suitor. But once Martin Dietz made up his mind that Sandra was what he wanted, the poor dear didn’t have a chance. Anyone could tell she’d never get out of that relationship easily.”

I pictured the scene between Martin Dietz and Tammy Johnson at the Beauty Boutique. I cringed, hoping Tammy could withstand Dietz’s brash advances.

“It’s so sad what Dietz did to Sandra.” I leaned against the wall.

“I only wish she would have stood up for herself better. If someone gives you a public lambasting, you’re at least entitled to a public rebuttal.” She shook her head. “But Sandra didn’t have it in her. It’s best she dropped out of politics. I’m just sorry she let him run her out of town.”

“That is too bad.” I crossed my arms. “What about Rebecca Ramsey? Did she shop at your store often?”

The woman smoothed the front of her expensive fitted jacket. “Rebecca Ramsey made token purchases all over town. She wanted to stay on good terms with everyone.” The sides of her mouth pulled down. “But everyone knows the kind of person she really is.” The woman gave me a knowing look. “The kind of woman that nice men should stay away from.”

I thought of Officer Brad’s attachment to Rebecca, and David’s misfortune in having married her in the first place. How could love be so screwed up that all the right people fell in love with all the wrong ones?

“Anyway,” she said, toweling off her hands, “I see Martin Dietz already has your number. Be sure you don’t cross him.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

My leg throbbed as I picked my way back downstairs.

I’d gone through a lot of trouble to make everything perfect for tonight. New hairstyle, new nails, new slacks and sweater.

And for what?

David held a multitude of possibilities, but was I ready for him? I couldn’t make it through a date without dredging up Basement Lady, Coffee Girl, Officer Brad, and the Ex-Wife.

Not that David didn’t have plenty of his own hang-ups to work on. But that’s what love was all about, wasn’t it? Helping each other through life’s hang-ups?

I paused at the bottom of the steps, reluctant to turn the corner, not sure I wanted to face any of the non-decisions I’d made. I stood and listened to the kitchen sounds. The crew worked well together, joking, cooking, and cleaning. After a moment, I turned the corner and settled at the table.

“Dessert, Tish?” David sounded short of breath. His hair and shoulders had little droplets of water on them.

“You look like you got sprinkled by the veggie wash at the supermarket.” I smiled and scooted my chair in.

“I stepped onto the porch for some air. First snow of the year tonight.” David smoothed his hair and the drops disappeared.

Our waiter wheeled over a tray of gourmet pies and cakes. Normally, the sight of three kinds of cheesecake and several varieties of chocolate layer cake would have me ordering a sample of each. But the stress of the evening had finally caught up. I had no appetite for dessert. All I wanted was to go home, curl up in my cot, and read a creepy romance. My problems always disappeared in light of the screwy lives unfolding on those three hundred or so pages.

“Just coffee for me, please,” I said.

David folded his hands on the table. “I would have pegged you for the dessert type. A secret chocolate lover.”

“I am. Just not tonight.”

“I knew it.” David’s grin was triumphant. “Anybody who would make a big deal out of granola versus Sugar Puffs has to be a closet chocoholic.”

I gave a weary smile, hoping the waiter would hurry with that coffee.

David and I small-talked through one cup each.

The waiter arrived with the bill.

I jumped up and put my coat on.

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” I said.

David watched me scoop up my jacket. His look had me thinking I’d forgotten something. I peeked around for gloves or a purse on the floor, but recalled that I’d brought neither.

A few minutes later, David joined me in the lobby.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

We stepped into a bluster of snowflakes and started down the darkened Independence Alley.

We came out on Main Street and I could see my house just a block away. All the windows were dark. If not for the welcoming beam of the porch light I’d turned on when we left, I wouldn’t have wanted to go home.

A few houses over, David’s glowed with bright, cheery windows.

“Would you like to stop in for a minute?” David asked through the biting wind.

“Can I take a rain check? I think I’ll go take a hot shower and crawl in bed.”

“Perhaps another time, then,” he said.

I paused on the sidewalk leading to my front steps. “Well, thank you for supper. The beef Wellington was superb, as promised.”

David stepped close, looking down at me. His head was covered with fluffy white snowflakes. His three-quarter-length trench nearly touched my jean jacket.

“My privilege,” he said.

“And the flowers.” I stared at his lips. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Anything for you, Tish.” He held my arms and leaned toward me.

Oh, help. I was going to be kissed.

22

Snow billowed into my eyes.

“Gosh, it’s cold.” I pulled away from his touch and ran toward the porch. “Thanks again. Good night.” I threw the words over my shoulder as I sprinted up the steps.

I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, not sure if I was trying to keep David out or myself in.

Why hadn’t I kissed him? What would it have hurt? We’d had an enjoyable night, we had some things in common, we were neighbors. One innocent kiss wouldn’t have hurt anything.

I imagined for a moment what it would have felt like, the warmth of his breath on my cheek, the way his nose would rub against mine, how our foreheads would meet for a moment. Then our lips would touch, sending electric sensations across soft skin.

Completely harmless.

Except now I’d never get it out of my mind.

I thought about going after him.

But how stupid would that look? I’d turned down an invitation to see his house, then ran away from his kiss. If I dashed out into the snow right now and followed him home, would he be happy to see me, or just annoyed?

My level of bravery being what it was, I guessed I would never find out.

I flicked the deadbolt closed and headed toward the bathroom. It wasn’t as if I’d turned down a marriage proposal. It was just a kiss.

I hit the light switch on my way through the kitchen. The scent of the twenty-five-rose bouquet reminded me of David’s generosity even before I saw it filling up the counter. The petals flashed red as the fluorescent light struggled to come on.

I stopped and studied the scene, picturing the same bouquet in a newly remodeled kitchen. This winter, I’d be tearing out the existing dark, flat-faced cabinet doors and putting in raised-panel light oak to match the home’s original woodwork. A workstation with stools would fill the space beneath the back windows. The countertops and floor would be redone in neutral shades, and the whole kitchen would brighten up with new lighting. Tonight, however, the corner by the basement door was pitifully dim. I shot past it and closed myself in the bathroom.

I stood under steaming water and wondered what David was doing. He was probably on his side porch, opening the door, and shutting it tight against the wind. He’d hang his coat neatly on a hanger, take off his shoes and line them in the hall closet. Then he’d make himself a cup of tea and sit on the sofa and look out at the snowflakes, wondering what he’d done wrong tonight.

Why hadn’t Tish kissed me, he’d ask himself. He’d run through a million ways he might have messed up. Finally, he’d convince himself that things were hopeless between us.

And he’d never speak to me again.

I paused. Shampoo dripped into my eyes.

Was I ready to have that bridge burned?

No way.

I rinsed off, flicked down the faucet handle, and grabbed my towel. Not even fifteen minutes had passed since he’d gone home. He’d been at least that late picking me up tonight. I could be fashionably tardy for his invitation, as well.

I towel-dried my hair and sprayed it, trying for a cute-n-tangled look. I threw on my usual jeans and T-shirt. David had already seen me at my finest. Time to get back to my true, casual self.

Socks, shoes, and my jean jacket wrapped tight around me, and out the back door I went. Billowing white puffs hit me full in the face as I took the shortcut past the garage over to David’s yard.

The turn-of-the-century home between my house and David’s acted as the village museum, which explained why it was perpetually empty. Operating hours had been cut back to zero with the summer tourist season long past. I’d taken a tour of the historic home back in July and fallen in love with its total Victorian décor. I also loved the idea that I had one less neighbor in occupancy.

With cedar hedges lining both sides, the museum’s backyard repelled any light from the street. I found myself kicking blindly through snow-covered leaf piles and tripping over fallen branches in the snowy blackness. Not very pleasant for my lame leg. A light in David’s second-story window served as my beacon.

I squeezed through an opening in the opposite hedge and walked across David’s driveway to his back porch. A flurry of snowflakes dimmed the light next to the door.