At six thirty that evening the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood Maggie wearing a purple pantsuit the exact shade of her new PT Cruiser parked on the street, and a pink Doris Day hat that sat slightly too far forward on her head and wobbled when she spoke. “I’m just bursting in uninvited, dearest.”
And she did, shouldering her way into the house before I could step aside for her. She waved two hands at me, her vinyl white purse swinging dangerously close to my face. “I’ve tried calling, I’ve tried leaving messages.” She glared at me, one eye bulging larger than the other. “Nothing. So I decided to drop in unannounced. Imagine my surprise at seeing a For Sale sign on your front lawn. It’s rude, you know—”
She caught sight of Jack, who’d sauntered in from the kitchen, a questioning look on his face.
“Well, hello there,” Maggie purred, extending her hand to him so that he could not shake it, but kiss it. Which he did, adding a clipped bow. Maggie turned to me, eyebrows waggling. “My goodness, he’s lovely. Wherever did you find him?”
“Maggie, meet Jack. Pastor Jack. He’s helping me with some house repairs.”
Jack held up a plumber’s wrench as if offering proof. “A pleasure to meet you, Maggie.”
She clapped her hands twice. “A man of the cloth. How exciting.” She stomped a foot, commanding our full attention. “Naturally I want to hear all about this love affair from both of you, but first—”
I interrupted, my face burning. I couldn’t bear to look at Jack. “It’s not a love aff—”
Maggie held up her hand. “But first! There is a For Sale sign on your lawn, and I want to know what’s going on.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hall into the den. She looked over her shoulder at Jack. “I need a tête-à-tête with our mutual friend. You carry on doing what you were doing.” She marched me into the den and closed the door behind her. “Goodness, Kate, he’s what the young people call a hunk.”
I shook my head. “You’ve misunderstood—”
“I understand perfectly, dear. And I approve. It’s one thing for a withered up old lady like me to go on being single. I can pull off eccentric.” She motioned for me to take a seat in the desk chair. “You’re too young for eccentric. You need a man in your life, and that Jack Slater fellow is just the sort to paint your wagon.”
I sat and gaped bug-eyed at her, but I couldn’t help but smile a little. “There’s so much wrong with that sentence, I don’t even know where to begin.”
Maggie dragged a second chair beside me and sat. “Wrong? You’re a fine one to talk about wrong. You’ve got your house for sale, a hunk in your kitchen adjusting your taps, and all without saying a word to me.”
“I know I should have called you after I was released from the assessment center. I’ve been meaning to, it’s just things have been busy …” I trailed off. My excuses were lame. I hadn’t called Maggie, or anyone else for that matter, because I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of moving to the city, of getting on with my life. Or maybe because I just didn’t want to talk, period.
She sighed in an exaggerated way. “Good intentions pave the road to—well, never mind.” She looked up at the ceiling, beseeching the heavens. “Bygones and all that stuff. Tell me about that For Sale sign.”
“I’m moving to the city.”
To my surprise Maggie jumped up and applauded. “Well done, Kate.” She clasped her hands over her breast. “Oh, I remember this so well.”
Remembered? “What do you mean?”
She sat again. “After Jeremy left, I sulked and stalled for a long time, then one day I knew it was time to move on. It was all of a sudden, all at once. One day I didn’t know what to do, the next I did.” She patted my leg. “Was it like that for you? All at once?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I guess it was.” Why had I avoided Maggie? She was a breath of fresh air, always encouraging me. Guilt poked at me. I’d treated her badly, unfairly. She’d been nothing but a true friend to me.
She winked. “Except it took me three years to come to that sensible conclusion, and it only took you a few months.” She nodded, approving the timeline. “Now let’s dish about that Handsome Harry in your kitchen.” Maggie let out a long, low whistle. “My, my.”
“Oh, Maggie …”
She put a finger on her chin. “I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.”
“Oy. He’s just a friend, Maggie. I met him at the community center, and he’s been helping me out—”
“Uh-huh. Big guy like that, you’d have to bend your head back like this.” She tilted her head, showing me her throat. “Don’t you think?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Mag—”
“How tall are you?” She stood and waved for me to do the same.
“Seriously, cut it out—”
“He looks strong, too.” She ran a hand up her arm from elbow to shoulder.
“You’ve lost your mind.” I was laughing now.
She raised an eyebrow. “Have I? I don’t think so. I saw the look on his face when he looked at you.”
“What look?” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. Like some Pavlovian dog, my interest piqued at the hint of a man’s attentions.
Maggie’s face split into a wider grin. “Ah, I thought you were just friends?” She nudged me with her elbow.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her toward the door. “We are. And this conversation is getting ridiculous.” I shoved her lightly, moving her out of the den.
“Fine, fine,” she said, clearly delighted. “I’m your friend too, and I’m officially volunteering to help you with the fix-ups.” She turned and gave me a broad wink. “Unless you’d rather I leave you alone with Mr. Friend.”
I was smiling wide. Maggie’s perky tenacity, her stubborn optimism touched a chord in me. “I’d love it if you stayed. Thank you for offering.”
Her eyes sparkled with impish delight. “Happy to. I’ll start in the upstairs bathroom.” She walked off down the hall. “I’m simply a whiz with bathroom fixtures. Where would I find a clean rag?”
“Under the sink,” I called after her. I turned back into the room. Across from me was a full-length mirror. I walked toward myself carefully, taking full account of my reflection. My face was pale, making my brown eyes look large. I ran a hand over my loose cotton shirt and track pants. I inched close to the mirror until my nose nearly touched the glass. I closed my eyes and bent my head back. But only for a moment. I opened my eyes, saw the longing reflected in the image before me. I shivered.
“Stop it,” I told myself. You’re a grown woman, not a hormonal teenager. I turned and hurried from the room.