I locked the back door and jumped in Deucey for the trip uptown. As I bounced across the tracks, I caught David in the rearview mirror pulling out of his driveway and onto Main Street behind me.

I pressed the accelerator hoping to make it through the intersection at Main and Maple. No such luck. I stopped for the red, tapping on the gas pedal as I waited for the light to change.

I looked in the mirror. I couldn’t see David’s face through the reflection on his windshield. That feeling of déjà vu crept over me. He was following me again. But this time I felt certain there was more at stake than a nylon strap hanging out of my trunk.

The light changed and I floored it. Deucey hovered in place while she gathered enough oomph to blaze ahead. I could almost picture David having to hit his brakes while my vehicle hesitated. I topped out at thirty, not wanting to attract attention from the authorities. Some car chase. I made it through the light at Rawlings Road and pulled into the strip mall.

David’s car turned in behind me.

I gripped the steering wheel, angled into the space nearest the door, and bolted inside. Maybe David was heading over to Goodman’s for groceries. He couldn’t possibly be going to Sam’s diner the same time I was.

I dove into a corner booth, as far from the door as I could get. In walked David, checking out the clientele. I scrunched down and pretended to look at the menu.

No good. He beelined for my booth.

“Hi,” I said as he approached. I tried to keep my breathing normal but ended up sounding like an asthma sufferer.

“May I?” He gestured to the seat across from me.

I swallowed. “Sure. Of course. Why not?” Under the table, my foot started jiggling uncontrollably.

“Have you dined here before?” David asked, perusing the menu that had been tucked behind the silver napkin dispenser.

“One time,” I said, wishing he’d quit stalling and get to the point.

“Any recommendations?” he asked.

“I’m having the Coney Deluxe with everything.”

He nodded with eyebrows raised. “Really? I had you pegged for the Chef’s Salad.”

Both legs bounced. “I’m expanding my horizons.”

“Good. That’s very good.” He caught my gaze and held it. “It’s important to have an open mind.”

I gulped, wide eyed.

“Hey, Tish.” Samantha smiled at me as she walked up to the booth, order pad in hand. “David.” She gave a terse nod in his direction. “What can I get for you?”

“Two Coney Deluxe and a chili fry.” David smiled at me. “I’ll split the fries with you.”

Sam wrote down the order along with our drink requests and disappeared into the kitchen. Obviously, she missed my eye signals, pleading for help.

David crossed his hands on the table between us. “I think you’ve been avoiding me, Tish.” His British accent took on a Transylvania twang.

“Avoiding you? Absolutely not. Just busy, busy, busy.”

“I went to your house today.”

“Did you? You know, I’ve been out campaigning for the open slot on the Historical Committee. I must have been gone when you came by.”

“You were home for Brad Walters. And Rick Hershel.”

“Who can explain it?” I tittered.

“Have you thought any more about my proposal?”

I paused, framing my answer with care. “Yes, I have. I’m honored and flattered that you would consider me wife material. But that’s just not where I’m at right now. I’m sorry, the answer is no.”

He shook his head. “That answer will only cause you grief later. You don’t know enough about me to make the correct decision.”

“I trust my instincts,” I said.

His blue eyes held mine captive. “If you marry me, I will make all your dreams come true.”

I squinted at him. How could he know what my dreams were? I didn’t even know. “Not sure that’s possible. Thanks anyway.”

“I’m serious, Tish. Whatever it is you want, just ask. I’ll get it for you.”

“Legally?”

“Just ask.”

I sighed. “You’re a really great guy, David. You’re not the type that should have to bribe someone to marry him. Why does it have to be me? What about Tammy?”

He leaned forward and touched my hands. “It’s you I love. Since the first day I saw you. I’m not bribing you. I just want to be with you.”

Thankfully, I wasn’t born yesterday. Had I been a notch more naive, I would have fallen into his arms, swooning. “Come on,” I said. “I dumped my salad all over the vestibule that day. My hair was a mass of frizz. How could you have fallen in love with that?”

“You don’t see yourself the way the rest of the world does, do you?”

“I don’t?”

“You’re everything beautiful and lovely and pure. There’s not a blemish on your heart or in your soul. You’re radiant. Vivacious. You’re even quite funny. Believe me, you are like a fresh spring morning compared to what I’ve lived with.”

“Wow. Thank you.” I could take another forty years of compliments like that.

I snapped out of it as Sam arrived with the Coney dogs and drinks. She set them down without fanfare and left without a word.

I looked down at the hot dog mounded with chili and cheese. Today it looked and smelled greasy, ruined by the stomach-twisting table conversation.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” David asked, digging in without reservation.

“Mmm. Uh-huh.” I picked at a bean with my fork.

“So what is it you want, Tish? What gets you out of bed in the morning?”

I twirled my fork and collected cheese and onions. “I guess the Victorian. Knowing all the stuff that has to be done before she’s top-notch and ready for sale.”

“What if I could help you get your asking price for the house? What if I could help you get all your inspections passed and a great appraisal too?”

“I just have to do the work, David. There’s really no way around it.”

“Open your mind, Tish. Imagine cashing out of that house with triple your investment. You could go back to college, or quit working altogether and have a family. You could start your own business or become a cable show host. What would you do?”

“I’ve never really given my life that much thought.” I stirred my diet drink. “It’s not as if I have a road map for the future. You know, first complete my current home, then move on to Such-and-Such City, then run for president. I have plans for the Victorian and that’s it. Come May, I’ll rent some furniture. Then I’ll start looking for my next project.”

It wasn’t about personal goals and stepping up some ladder of life. It was about eating and having a roof over my head for the next year, without having to be a corporate slave or working with people who were perverts, or demeaning, or had no manners. Maybe I didn’t think highly of myself in some areas. But I required dignity in my life. And the best way to accomplish that was to be alone. I never wanted to treat anyone the way my grandmother had treated Grandpa. And I never wanted to feel subhuman again. I couldn’t control what anyone else did, but by golly, I could control myself and my actions.

“David, I don’t want to marry you. That’s just how it is.” How could he misinterpret that?

David chewed and swallowed. “After your foray into my garage this morning, you need to reconsider that answer.” He paused.

Not bribes, threats. I got the picture.

“We can be a team, Tish. As your husband, I can apply for citizenship. I can get out from under corporate sponsorship. And I can go after some of my dreams.”

“Why didn’t you do all that with Rebecca?”

“She divorced me before I was eligible to apply. Without a corporation backing my green card and an American wife, I have to leave the country. Don’t make me go, Tish. We’ll have a wonderful life together, I promise.”

And if I didn’t marry him? I shuddered, picturing a cold, damp grave next to Rebecca’s.

I had to admit, however, that David made a convincing liar. If I hadn’t stumbled across the documents on his desk and out in his garage, I’d have almost been persuaded that he did love me.

“Hello, Tish.” I looked up to see Officer Brad standing next to our booth. My mind played the William Tell Overture. Salvation had arrived.

“Brad. Hi. Sit down. There’s plenty of room.” I scooted over to the wall. Brad sank into the seat next to me, his broad form taking up most of my elbow space.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Brad gave David a showdown stare.

“Not at all,” David said, dabbing his lips with a white paper napkin.

“Great. So, Tish, how’s the renovation coming?” Brad snared my eyes.

“Not as fast as I’d hoped,” I said, forgetting everyone but Brad. “I’m working on the rec room idea again. I’m hoping to get around the system by filling the slot on the Historical Committee.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea before your trial?” Brad asked. “Kind of cements your motive for killing Dietz.”

“For allegedly killing Dietz,” I said.

“You know what I mean. A jury is going to see motive and opportunity. Whether or not a murder weapon is recovered, they’ll put you away on circumstantial.”

I flicked my eyes toward David, hoping Brad would get the hint that the killer was sitting in the booth across from us. “I’m working on that,” I said. “I’m convinced the real murderer will be captured before I’m in danger of being convicted.”

“Really,” Brad said. “Do you think the person is going to step forward and admit guilt? Sounds a little too convenient. I don’t think you understand the gravity of your position.”

“Oh, believe me, I understand. I’ve been there and done that prison thing. And I don’t intend to show up for a repeat performance.” I glared at David.