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When Sue walked into the Blue Plate Café, Cinda was already there, as if lying in wait. That fact alone should have made Sue turn around and walk out. Before she could consider her options, Cinda waved an arm over her head.
“I got us a table,” Cinda said unnecessarily.
“Since when are you ever on time?”
“It happens.” Cinda motioned her to the seat.
“Hey, Sue. What are you having today?” Ruby had been waitressing at the café as long as Sue could remember.
“Hi, Ruby.” Sue glanced at Cinda. “What are you having?”
“Cabernet.”
“I’ll have a Dos Equis,” Sue told Ruby.
Ruby scribbled Sue’s order and headed for the bar.
Cinda was staring at her again. “Will you stop?”
“Okay, okay.” Cinda shook out her napkin and set it in her lap. “Looks like you got your car okay. Mr. Reynolds bring it by last night?”
“Yes.” At least Cinda had switched topics.
“Tomorrow’s your day off, right? What do you have planned?” Cinda asked.
Sue sensed more helpfulness in the offing. Better to cut her off before she got started. “Clean the house. Make a casserole to welcome my new neighbor. Finish the book I’ve been reading.” She raised her eyebrows to let Cinda know a full-on assault wouldn’t be welcome.
“Full day. New neighbor? The one playing the loud music?”
“I’ve pointed out the thin walls to him. He seems reasonable.”
Ruby returned with Sue’s bottle of beer and a glass. “You ladies ready to order?”
“What’s the special?” Cinda asked.
“It’s Tuesday, Cinda.” Sue could recite the daily specials as well as Ruby could. Meatloaf Monday. Taco Tuesday. Beer can chicken Wednesday. Pot roast Thursday. Friday fish fry.
Cinda shrugged. “You never know. They might have added one. Or changed something up.”
“Not in the twelve years I’ve worked here,” Ruby said.
“I’ll have the tacos,” Sue said.
Cinda heaved an impatient sigh. “Me too, I guess.” She handed Ruby her menu. “So the neighbor. He?”
“I met him last night, while I was reading on my patio. Then he stopped in the store for groceries today.”
“Is he single?” Cinda asked.
“It would seem so.”
“Cute?”
Sue poured her beer. “I suppose. He has that hair.” She waved her hands beside her head. “Like James Dean, or Rick Astley. Kind of long on top and styled so it stands up. Messy chic. And he has a short beard. He seems young. Tells stupid jokes.”
Cinda eyed Sue over the rim of her wineglass. “Young? Speak for yourself, but I wouldn’t consider us old.”
“Younger than me, then.”
“So, he’s a renter,” Cinda said.
Sue took a sip of her beer. “You’d know better than I would. If he got a mortgage, wouldn’t he have gone through you?”
“Not necessarily. He might have gotten the loan somewhere else.” She leaned one elbow on the table. “I could check, if you want me to.”
“Does it matter?”
“It does if he’s going to be a noisy neighbor. You need to know who to complain to if you want his landlord to kick him out.”
“I got the impression he bought the place,” Sue said.
“And you’re making him a casserole?”
Sue set her beer mug down hard. “I’m being neighborly.”
“And cooking gives you something to do.” Cinda’s expression turned to one of pity. She reached across the table.
Sue pulled back. “I’m fine, as you can see.”
Cinda leaned into her seat and swirled the wine in her glass. “I don’t understand how you can be so broken up about a man who nearly killed you. It isn’t as if you haven’t moved on. I know you dated Rod Wilson for a while.”
Sue gritted her teeth. “You don’t stop caring about someone after fifteen years of friendship. How would you feel if Brody died?”
“My husband doesn’t beat me up,” Cinda said.
Sue ground her teeth. When Ruby brought the plates and set them on the table, Sue asked if she could get her dinner to go.
Cinda straightened. “Come on. Don’t romanticize Mike because he died. Sure, you guys had a lot of good years, but that doesn’t erase what he did to you. You divorced him for a reason.”
Ruby hovered beside the table, as if uncertain what she should do.
“I’m going to need a box in any event,” Sue told Ruby. When she left, Sue turned to Cinda. “I did divorce him. Don’t you think I’m fully aware of his shortcomings? He was trying to do better.”
Cinda lowered her voice. “I know he was, but if you believed the abuse was a fluke, you wouldn’t have left. It’s a pattern that’s extremely hard to break. Ask Mary Ellen. She’ll tell you.”
When Ruby returned with the to-go box, Sue transferred her dinner.
“I’m saying the wrong things again, aren’t I?” Cinda asked.
“Mike and I were still friends.” Sue swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We might not have been able to live together safely, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still love him.”
“Don’t leave,” Cinda said. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”
She should have turned around when she first saw Cinda waiting for her. “Then why are you here? To tell me what an idiot I am yet again?” She motioned for Ruby and requested her check.
“You’re not an idiot,” Cinda said. “If anyone is, it’s me.”
“You need to stop trying to cheer me up, because you suck at it, Cinda.”
They stared at each other a moment, and then they both started to laugh. Cinda raised her palms and bowed her head. “I know you said you needed time alone, but I’m worried about you. Promise me you’ll call if the alone starts to crowd in on you.”
“I’ll call Mary Ellen,” Sue said, more as a joke than anything else. She heaved a sigh. “Thank you for caring.”
“Even if I go about things the wrong way?”
Cinda’s heart was in the right place, even if she said the wrong things sometimes. She’d rescued Sue the night Mike had broken her arm. “Sometimes you get it right.” She shook a finger at Cinda. “Just not this time.”
“If I promise not to say any more about Mike, will you stay?”
“You can see I’m ready to run if you’re lying, right?” Sue said.
Cinda dragged a finger across her chest. “Cross my heart.”
Sue managed a smile. “I’ve already poured my beer. Guess I should at least stay to finish that.”
~ ~ ~
HEATH SAT ON THE PATIO, strumming his acoustic guitar. He no longer had anyone to play for. The club had canceled the band’s appearances after Derek died, and the other guys decided it was a good time to pursue other projects.
He didn’t need the band gigs. He had plenty of voice work to keep him busy, including a couple of commercials. With his home studio completed, he should work on his latest audiobook project.
A car pulled into his neighbor’s driveway and drove into the garage. Sue got out, carrying what appeared to be a to-go box. A quick intake of breath indicated she hadn’t expected to see him.
“Evening,” he said.
She nodded.
He rose and set his guitar against the lawn chair. “I can stop playing if it bothers you.”
“No, you’re fine. Have a nice night.”
She let herself inside, and he sat down, but before he started playing again, he heard muffled sobs. He considered going inside, too.
No. He had to make sure she was okay.
Heath knocked on her door. She opened it, wiping her nose with a tissue.
“I know it’s none of my business,” he said, “but you sounded so upset.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sniffle. “It’s none of your business.”
“It’s just...” he stammered. “I knew someone once. I missed the signs. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to help.”
“Missed the signs?” she asked.
He hunched his shoulders. “You sound so sad.”
She tilted her head. Blew her nose. Stared at him as understanding dawned. “You think I’m going to kill myself?”
“I’m no expert.” He rolled his eyes. Clearly. “But you’ve been crying so much.”
She set her hands on her hips. “I think I told you yesterday was my ex-husband’s funeral. I’m grieving. Not suicidal.”
“Most people I know wouldn’t be upset if their ex up and died.”
She made a move to close the door.
“Wait,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he and I were high school sweethearts. We were best friends.” She hiccupped a sob. “We were young and stupid and things got messy and the only way to fix them was to get a divorce, but we still loved each other.”
Heath nodded. “I could tell you a joke to cheer you up.”
She scoffed. “Another of those dumb dad jokes?”
He struggled to hold back a smile. “It’s sort of a reflex mechanism.” He scratched his head. “One of my quirks.”
“How old are you, anyway?” she asked.
Odd question, but okay. “Twenty-eight.” Her head jerked, as if his answer surprised her. “I’ve been told its impolite to ask a lady her age.”
She snorted. “I’m thirty-one.”
“Which means we’re both old enough to tell dad jokes.”
Sue sighed. “Fine. If you think it will stop me from killing myself—which I have no intention of doing, by the way. Although your jokes might push me over the edge.”
“When does a joke become a ‘dad joke?’” He waited a beat, until she rolled her hand for the punchline. “When it becomes apparent.”
“Goodnight, Heath.”
He shrugged. “Goodnight.”
She closed the door, and a minute later, he heard her laugh.
Mission accomplished.