Muse

She pulled free as the two mothers chattered, catching up, Helen keeping a safe foot or so between herself and Clara lest she try for another public display of affection. ‘You look like you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole,’ she said softly so only he could hear.

His face split into a grin. It was his best feature, that grin. She’d always thought so. ‘If only it would. What a gift from the gods that would be.’

She laughed. ‘You’re a good son bringing your mom here. A gaggle of mostly women hocking their discarded clothes in hopes of new treasures.’

‘My sister’s in Florida so I was her only hope. And I couldn’t say no.’ He was watching his mother, a half-smile on his face. ‘Since my dad died she doesn’t go out a whole lot. And she really wanted to come, so …’ There was that shrug again.

‘I think they have a little refreshment area set up,’ she said. ‘How about I buy you a coffee to reward your good deed?’

His gaze had drifted to her table where all her clothes were laid out. He reached out and stroked a single finger along the fabric of the white teddy she’d displayed on top. A shiver ran through her. It was as if she was magically linked with that piece of clothing and his fingertip had travelled down her skin.

She cleared her throat, a reflex when she was flustered.

It cleared his head and he withdrew his finger. ‘That would be great. We can catch up.’

She asked the older women what they’d want from the vendor and together they managed to wend their way through the sea of people who had gathered to trade clothes and attend the silent auction.

Once they’d hit the line she bumped her shoulder playfully against his as she had when they were young. ‘So, what’s up? Still got the art thing going on?’

He seemed to relax a little with the familiar topic. ‘Yep. Still doing the art thing.’

‘Freelance?’

He nodded as they shuffled forward in the line. ‘I sell paintings, I do some graphic work freelance, and I teach a night class.’

‘Wow,’ she said, bumping him again. Why was he so stiff and uncomfortable? They’d spent hours upon hours in each other’s company growing up, until her family eventually moved. They’d attempted to stay in touch during college, seeing each other occasionally at parties, sending occasional letters and cards for holidays. ‘Who thought the boy who liked to blow up random things in the summer would turn out to be a teacher.’

He smiled, his cheeks blooming with a little bit of colour. ‘Not me. But a friend who teaches full-time at the community college talked me into it. It’s kind of fun, to be honest. The people are a bit older, they’re looking to learn something new. No hopes of being the next Picasso or Warhol. Just the urge to express themselves.’

‘That is awesome,’ she said. They shuffled forward a little more and she turned to see if she could spot Clara and her mom. They were behind, milling around the tables, checking out clothes.

‘You?’

‘Me? Oh, I’m boring. I work as the office manager at a doctor’s office. Kind of fell into it, liked the people, liked the doctors and liked the normality. I only started after Bob and I got divorced. I was writing for the local newspaper at the time, but that little thing didn’t pay much and I needed more money. Single woman and all.’

He’d finally turned to look at her fully. She saw how blue his eyes were. Just as blue as when he was seventeen. They hadn’t changed at all nor had his hair – an unusual shade of red mixed with brown. It looked brown most of the time until the light hit it just right and then it shimmered with deep-red highlights. She’d always marvelled at the colour, even French braiding it one summer when he’d let it grow long. They’d laughed until they’d coughed over that.

‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked, touching her elbow and nudging her forward as the ridiculous line moved again.

‘Wondering if I could get a braid in the close-cropped hair.’

His bark of laughter startled the older woman in front of them. She turned with an annoyed glare. Which made him laugh harder. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled as she turned her back to them.

‘Doubtful,’ Chris said. He nudged the floor with the toe of his shoe. ‘I was going to ask about Bob but now I guess I don’t have to. Sorry to hear about the … about that.’

‘Divorce,’ she said, nudging him. ‘You can say it. I won’t burst into flames … or tears.’ He nodded. ‘What about you? Ever get married? Got a girl? Babies?’

His eyes widened. ‘God, no. I mean, to babies. Not yet. No. I had a girlfriend for a long time but we never got married. Good thing, too. It didn’t work.’

She flinched just a little. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘It’s fine.’ They’d finally hit the front of the line. Chris ordered four large coffees and a plate of fried dough. He caught Dani looking at him and shrugged. ‘Can’t resist the fried dough. A few times a year won’t kill me.’

‘Agreed,’ she said, snagging a fried bit of powdered-sugar-coated dough off the end and popping it into her mouth.

Miraculously, one of six small tables had become free and he nodded towards it. ‘Want to sit for a moment?’

‘The mothers …’

‘Are scanning for deals. The coffee will stay hot.’

Dani sat, doctored her coffee with four packs of sugar and a small creamer. She ate another bit of dough.

‘So,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Despite the obvious … life is good?’

She nodded after only a brief hesitation. ‘Yeah.’

He stared at her with those eyes. She noted the fairy rings of bright green around his irises. She’d forgotten about that.

‘That didn’t sound entirely convincing.’

It was her turn to shrug. She touched her topknot and tugged at a small piece of hair. A nervous habit she was entirely aware of and hated with a passion. ‘I guess I just feel in a rut, you know?’

‘I do.’ He ate a piece of dough and watched her but said nothing. She’d forgotten that too. How he always managed to pry things out of her that she never confessed to others.

‘I kept hearing this was a new Chapter in my life. Cut the dead wood, move forward, single woman with a passion for life, blah, blah, blah. And then …’ She laughed so loud she covered her mouth, embarrassed. ‘There’s my mother who’s got me convinced that I’m going to be either an old biddy with a house full of cats or miserable and alone and bitter if I don’t date like … yesterday.’

‘And you think?’

She sighed, taking a piece of the pastry but not eating it. She just held it like a talisman as she told him the absolute truth. ‘I think I need to do something entirely out of character and live something I’d never ever dreamed I would before I date. To be honest—’ She shook her head.

‘What?’

‘You’re like a hypnotist. Somehow, even after all these years, I spill my guts to you.’

He raised his hands palms up and winked. ‘It’s a gift.’

‘An evil gift,’ she said. But she barrelled on. ‘To be honest, I don’t know who I am at the moment. The years with Bob, the marriage ending, it all changed me. New job, no husband, bad years before the divorce was finalised. I’ve changed. I think I’d like to get to know me before I try to get to know someone else. Casual dating, sure. But something steady … not ready.’

‘So you’d like to step outside the box and do something you never thought you’d do?’

She grinned. ‘Yeah, I know it sounds stupid.’

‘Not at all,’ he said.

‘Good.’

‘And I think I might have just the thing for you …’