of restless sleep, first-day jitters and not a bite to eat since popovers for breakfast.
But her long day was not yet done. She’d accepted Mrs. Sanderson’s invitation to dinner. It had sounded like a good idea when she’d agreed to it. But as she closed up for the night, she wanted nothing more than to soak in a tub of hot water and go to bed.
Still, she was hungry and there was nothing in her apartment to eat. So, dutifully, she showed up in Mrs. Sanderson’s kitchen at six.
It wasn’t a terrible sacrifice. Though certainly a bit pushy, Viv was also funny, vivacious and entertaining. D.J. leaned against the kitchen counter amid the fabulous smell of dinner cooking and sipped on a small glass of dry white wine.
Dew had completely made himself at home on the throw rug beneath the kitchen sink. Mrs. Sanderson was forced to step over the dog every couple of minutes.
D.J. was surprised when she set a small dish of food on the floor.
Dew sniffed at it, but moved away.
“He doesn’t eat people food,” D.J. reminded her.
“It’s meat.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, he doesn’t have any interest in table scraps or really anything cooked, even roast beef.”
Viv’s tone was incredulous. “I’ve never even heard of a dog that wouldn’t eat anything and everything.”
D.J. shrugged. “I didn’t train him to be like that. He’s been picky since the day I got him.”
The terrier perked up, wagged his tail against the floor and turned his head slightly, as if aware that he was the subject of the conversation.
Viv laughed at the sight. “He’s certainly a very unique little fellow,” she said.
“I really appreciate that you took him for a walk today,” D.J. said. “Believe me, I don’t expect you to do that. It’s way too much trouble.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Viv assured her. “I kind of like having him underfoot, it keeps me on my toes.”
The dining table was set for three and Viv confessed that she’d invited her son to join them.
D.J. clearly recalled Vern’s suggestion that Viv was trying to fix her up. Well, the woman was welcome to try, but D.J. was sure there was little danger of it working out. Over her dating years, she’d been fixed up with friends, brothers, cousins and colleagues. The spark was never there. She almost regretted even knowing “the spark” existed.
When they heard the sound of a car door outside, Viv became almost giddy with excitement.
“That’s going to be Scott,” she said. “I know you two are going to be great friends.”
D.J. nodded vaguely and pasted a benign but welcoming smile upon her lips as she turned to the back door.
“Hey, Mom,” her son called out as he opened the screen.
The glare from the sun momentarily obscured his visage, revealing only a tall male stranger with broad shoulders and a white shirt. Then he stepped inside.
D.J.’s heart leaped for one instant before the blood drained from her face. The one man in the world that she never wanted to see again had just walked into the room as if he were right at home.
South Padre Island (Eight years earlier)
T hree women, friends and roommates from college, stepped through the open doorway of the Naked Parrott. The place was crowded to the point of crazy and everyone there seemed young, loud and intoxicated.
It was exactly the atmosphere that D.J. wanted. Her brain was buzzing happily after a few drinks, and on the edges of her peripheral vision were teeny-tiny stars that seemed to appear and explode at irregular intervals. This was the third such joint on tonight’s tour of beachside pickup bars. The evening was no longer young. And D.J. was determined to be likewise.
Beside her she heard Heather whisper, “Total meat market.”
“Perfect.”
The three young women had consumed several glasses of bubbly alcohol before they’d even left the motel room. It was D.J.’s birthday, and that was a cause for celebration after what had been a long spate of depressing and drear
But her long day was not yet done. She’d accepted Mrs. Sanderson’s invitation to dinner. It had sounded like a good idea when she’d agreed to it. But as she closed up for the night, she wanted nothing more than to soak in a tub of hot water and go to bed.
Still, she was hungry and there was nothing in her apartment to eat. So, dutifully, she showed up in Mrs. Sanderson’s kitchen at six.
It wasn’t a terrible sacrifice. Though certainly a bit pushy, Viv was also funny, vivacious and entertaining. D.J. leaned against the kitchen counter amid the fabulous smell of dinner cooking and sipped on a small glass of dry white wine.
Dew had completely made himself at home on the throw rug beneath the kitchen sink. Mrs. Sanderson was forced to step over the dog every couple of minutes.
D.J. was surprised when she set a small dish of food on the floor.
Dew sniffed at it, but moved away.
“He doesn’t eat people food,” D.J. reminded her.
“It’s meat.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, he doesn’t have any interest in table scraps or really anything cooked, even roast beef.”
Viv’s tone was incredulous. “I’ve never even heard of a dog that wouldn’t eat anything and everything.”
D.J. shrugged. “I didn’t train him to be like that. He’s been picky since the day I got him.”
The terrier perked up, wagged his tail against the floor and turned his head slightly, as if aware that he was the subject of the conversation.
Viv laughed at the sight. “He’s certainly a very unique little fellow,” she said.
“I really appreciate that you took him for a walk today,” D.J. said. “Believe me, I don’t expect you to do that. It’s way too much trouble.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Viv assured her. “I kind of like having him underfoot, it keeps me on my toes.”
The dining table was set for three and Viv confessed that she’d invited her son to join them.
D.J. clearly recalled Vern’s suggestion that Viv was trying to fix her up. Well, the woman was welcome to try, but D.J. was sure there was little danger of it working out. Over her dating years, she’d been fixed up with friends, brothers, cousins and colleagues. The spark was never there. She almost regretted even knowing “the spark” existed.
When they heard the sound of a car door outside, Viv became almost giddy with excitement.
“That’s going to be Scott,” she said. “I know you two are going to be great friends.”
D.J. nodded vaguely and pasted a benign but welcoming smile upon her lips as she turned to the back door.
“Hey, Mom,” her son called out as he opened the screen.
The glare from the sun momentarily obscured his visage, revealing only a tall male stranger with broad shoulders and a white shirt. Then he stepped inside.
D.J.’s heart leaped for one instant before the blood drained from her face. The one man in the world that she never wanted to see again had just walked into the room as if he were right at home.
South Padre Island (Eight years earlier)
T hree women, friends and roommates from college, stepped through the open doorway of the Naked Parrott. The place was crowded to the point of crazy and everyone there seemed young, loud and intoxicated.
It was exactly the atmosphere that D.J. wanted. Her brain was buzzing happily after a few drinks, and on the edges of her peripheral vision were teeny-tiny stars that seemed to appear and explode at irregular intervals. This was the third such joint on tonight’s tour of beachside pickup bars. The evening was no longer young. And D.J. was determined to be likewise.
Beside her she heard Heather whisper, “Total meat market.”
“Perfect.”
The three young women had consumed several glasses of bubbly alcohol before they’d even left the motel room. It was D.J.’s birthday, and that was a cause for celebration after what had been a long spate of depressing and drear
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