“You’ve changed.”
She stiffened. “People do.” She needed to change the subject. She didn’t want to deal with what she suspected was coming. “By the way, you ever hear of a doctor named Richard Lotwin? Used to be a surgeon. Maybe he still is.”
Matt shook his head.
“He was accused of malpractice. Twice. Both times at Newfield. Maybe ten years ago.”
He frowned. “Wait…I think I did hear something about that. Wasn’t he dumped from the hospital?”
“Right.”
“Why? I mean, why do you want to know?”
“It’s something I’ve been working on.”
“Something to do with this?”
She stopped talking then, and spooned soup into her mouth. The waitress brought Matt’s sandwich and gave them a peculiar look, as if she wasn’t sure what their relationship was. Georgia returned the look. The woman retreated.
Matt picked up half of his sandwich. He looked Georgia up and down, then put the sandwich back on his plate. “I was wrong, you know.”
Georgia let a beat of silence go by. “About what?”
“You never told me the way you felt. I never knew where I stood.”
That was a crock of shit, she thought. They had been lovers. They’d lived together almost a year. He was supposed to know how she felt.
“You always kept things bottled up,” he added.
What was he doing? Trying to rewrite history? He had dumped her for Ricki Feldman. It had nothing to do with communication.
Or did it? Even if it did, what did it matter? It was yesterday’s news. If it made him feel better to think she was at fault, so be it. She knew the truth. She started to open her mouth to say something to that effect when an image of Jimmy floated into her mind. Communication skills. Jimmy. She hadn’t called him back.
Damn Matt. He had a point.
She put the spoon down. “I—I was dealing with all sorts of things.”
“Like whether you wanted to be a cop.”
She nodded. “And a Jew.”
“I should have known when you started taking conversion lessons,” Matt said.
“It never occurred to me I’d have to spell it out.”
“I was an asshole.”
“Yes, you were.” She waved her spoon. “But that’s in the past.”
He looked at her, his face wide open. “What are you saying?”
Georgia couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth next. “I think you’re right. We should have communicated better. I should have told you how much I loved you. We were both at fault.” Another powerful vision of Jimmy strafed her brain. The two of them in her bed. At the pancake house. At the movie. Then Jimmy embracing Saucy Hat.
“Are you saying there might be another chance for us?” Matt reached for her hand.
She pulled it back and let the silence grow. It was okay with Matt. Comfortable. Familiar. But none of the old sirens wailed. Her skin didn’t tingle. It was over. Really over. All she could think about now was Jimmy. She knew what she had to do. “Hey, thanks.” She smiled.
“For what?” He looked lost.
“For coming today. And for lunch. I need to go.”
“Right now?” He motioned to her soup. “You hardly touched it.”
“Take it home for dinner.” She grabbed her coat, flung it on, and hurried out to the parking lot. A frigid wind had kicked up, and her fingers ached with the cold. Still, once inside the Toyota, she made herself dig for her cell and punched in Jimmy’s number.
He picked up right away. “Georgia?” He sounded relieved, happy, and pissed off, all at the same time. “Are you all right? God! I’ve been so worried. I must have left a dozen messages.”
“I know. I’m fine. I—I’m sorry for not calling you back. It was—well—I was…hey, do you have a minute?”
“Of course.”
“Who was that woman you put your arms around two nights ago outside the restaurant, around six? The one with the”—she couldn’t say the word “saucy”—“hat?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Wednesday.” It was Friday now. “I drove out to a farmhouse in Capron. Then I drove to Lake Geneva, hoping to catch you. It was snowing, remember? And I saw you go inside the restaurant with another woman. You were—pretty cozy.”
He hesitated. It was the longest minute Georgia could remember. Then,
“Oh. Her. Marianna is my cousin. I’ve known her all my life. She just lost her husband. A sudden heart attack. No warning. He was barely fifty. I was trying to comfort her.” He paused again. “Why the hell didn’t you come in?” Then he answered his question. “Oh.”
Georgia swallowed. “I should have, Jimmy. I was wrong. We—no—I need to communicate better. I’m not real good at it. I don’t trust easily. But I want to try.”
“We both will.”
He was letting her off the hook. Her heart melted.
“Um, where are you now?” he asked.
“In my car.”
“Have any plans for the rest of the day? And night?” She felt his smile through the phone.
“I do now,” she said.