One Frosty Night

Olivia stared straight ahead through the windshield. “Even when he died, I could tell she was angry. Grieving, but not the way you’d expect. They’d been married thirty-eight years!” She shifted in the seat to look at Ben. “We buried him four days ago. Four! Do you know why we were having lunch today? So she could announce that she’s putting the house on the market.”

He stared. “Already?”

“That’s what I said! Then she said, ‘I’m a widow now, and I’m ready to downsize. Is that so bad?’ We’ve barely washed the sheets from their bed!”

“Did she move back into their bedroom after he died?”

Olivia shook her head. “I think selling the house is her way of leaving him. Too late for a divorce, but she has to reject him somehow. And apparently, she can’t stand to wait another minute.”

He watched her, expression troubled. “You don’t have any idea what it could have been.”

“No.” She looked away. “He died right after—”

“I know when he died.” One large hand pried the small container of fries out of her hand, and she realized she’d been squeezing it in a fist. Ben set it between the seats. “Maybe attending the funeral got to him.” He hesitated. “It was a cold day. That couldn’t have been good for him.”

“What you really mean is, he looked into that hole in the ground and saw his own mortality.”

“It’s possible,” he said gently.

Olivia’s shoulders sagged. “He was acting...strange. I tried to talk him out of going.”

“Your mother didn’t go.”

She made a face. “They weren’t speaking. How could she?”

“Is she mad at you, too?”

Olivia pondered his question for a minute and finally had to answer truthfully, “I don’t know. She doesn’t like me pushing for answers. But also...I was always kind of Daddy’s girl. A tomboy.” Like he didn’t know that. “More interested in the business than I was in clothes or homemaking.”

From the minute she’d been old enough, she had worked part-time at the hardware store, full-time in the summer all the way through college. It’s why she’d been able to step in comfortably after his heart attack.

As a wounded sixteen-year-old, she hadn’t been able to help wondering if she just wasn’t feminine enough to keep Ben’s attention. In Crescent Creek, his options had been limited, but once he was surrounded by beautiful college girls, the girlfriend he’d left behind would have been cast in new relief. A giraffe—tall, skinny, lacking enough curves. Better with a circular saw than she was with a mascara wand.

Feeling impatient, she told herself it had been too long ago for her to still be wondering.

“So your mother believes you were on his side.” Ben sounded thoughtful now. “Or thinks you’d be sympathetic to him on whatever their issue was.”

“Issue?” she echoed. “That’s a mild way of describing something that would split them, of all people, apart.”

“Maybe they weren’t as solid as they seemed.”

“A few months ago, I’d have laughed at that suggestion. I know my parents.” More softly, she amended, “I thought I knew my parents.”

“You know she’ll talk to you eventually.”

“Do I?” Olivia sighed. “If she was only hurt, I’d agree, but she’s harboring so much anger. And that’s not like Mom.”

This time he didn’t say anything. After all, he didn’t know her parents the way she did.

She turned her head and really looked at him. “You haven’t heard anything, have you? You know... Rumors. If you have, please tell me. Don’t think I’m better off not knowing.”

But he was shaking his dark head long before she finished. “I haven’t, Olivia. Not a word. People are feeling really bad for your mom.”

She went back to staring out at the snowy landscape. “She wants me to help clean the house out. Get it ready to sell. I said, ‘Gee, that sounds like fun. Let’s have a garage sale, why don’t we?’”

Ben gave a rough chuckle. “Bet that went over well.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “So that’s the story. Wow. Now I can’t decide if I’m hungry enough for that cheeseburger after all.”

He laughed again. “Didn’t eat a bite at Guido’s, huh?”

“I poked and stirred.”

“Eat.” The bag rustled when he reached into it, and he even partially unwrapped the burger before handing it to her. “Go on. You’ll feel better.”

Feeling calmer for no good reason, she did. Halfway through the cheeseburger, she felt the need to break the silence.

“What you did for that girl... It was nice.”

His shoulders moved. From his profile, she thought she’d embarrassed him.

“If I hadn’t started that fund, someone else would have.”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure. The thing is, you did it for the right reasons. In Guido’s I heard people talking, and it made me mad. It was all about TV coverage and feeling self-satisfied.”

The skin beside his espresso-dark eyes crinkled. “You were already mad.”

“Well...yeah.”

“Damn, Olivia.” The timbre of his voice had changed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Sure you did.” Appetite gone, she rewrapped the remaining half of the cheeseburger. “I really do need to get back, Ben. Thanks for listening.”

She felt him studying her. Her skin prickled from her acute awareness.

“Okay,” he said, in seeming resignation. He released the emergency brake and put the Jeep into gear. “I am sorry.”

She bent her head in stiff acknowledgment, not daring to ask whether he was sorry about her present turmoil—or because he’d hurt her all those years ago. “Thank you.”

Neither said anything during the short drive back to town. Only when he double-parked in front of the hardware store did she remember the lunch. “You should let me pay—”

Ben’s expression shut her down.

“Thank you,” she said again and hopped out, taking her drink and the leftovers in the sack with her.

“Good seeing you, Olivia,” he murmured, and, once she’d shut the door and retreated to the curb, he drove away without looking back that she could tell.

Her heart slammed in her chest, and she felt a yawning emptiness deep inside.