Beth and the Bachelor

That resolved, he headed down the hall, leaving the flowers, and thoughts of Beth, behind.

Two hours later he cursed himself and the confusion of street names that was Sugar Land. He was lost. He hadn’t bothered paying attention when R.J. had driven the limo down here and he’d only briefly glanced at his Key Map before leaving work.

What the hell was he doing? he asked himself again. He’d walked out of a meeting with only the barest of explanations, he’d driven for nearly forty minutes in the middle of the afternoon, and for what? He told himself it was because he wanted to hear Beth’s apology in person. He told himself that it was about being right, and not anything more significant than that. He almost believed it, too.

‘‘She’s not my type,’’ he grumbled as he pulled to the side of the road and pulled out his Key Map. He located the right page, then found the street. Up ahead was a sprawling mall. He should have turned left on Austin Parkway instead of right.

‘‘She’s not my type and we have nothing in common.’’

She was too old, too intelligent and too sincere. The woman had children. He didn’t like children. At least he didn’t think he did—after all, he didn’t spend any time around them.

Todd turned right at the corner and found himself on Beth’s street. Once again he was struck by the similarity of the houses. He studied the address, then pulled up across from the right one.

A young woman stood in front, watering some plants. She was tall and curvy, wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Todd was startled to realize Beth’s daughter was so old. Beth must have gotten pregnant at sixteen.

He got out of his car and walked up the driveway. ‘‘Excuse me,’’ he called over the sound of running water. ‘‘Is your mother home?’’

The girl spun toward him. Todd found himself staring into Beth’s startled blue eyes. Her hair was mussed, her face free of makeup. While she couldn’t pass for someone in her twenties, she looked surprisingly attractive in her casual clothes.

Her mouth dropped open. ‘‘What are you doing here?’’

‘‘I came to see you.’’

She took one step back, then another. Todd glanced down and saw the potential for disaster. ‘‘Watch out for the sprinkler head,’’ he warned.

But he was too late. Beth’s bare heel came down on the edge of the metal. She shifted immediately, stumbling as she did so. The hose bounced wildly and a stream of cool water danced across the front of his pants, dousing his thighs and his crotch.

Chapter Four

Beth looked horrified. Todd hoped her expression came from her spraying him with water and not because he’d shown up unexpectedly, but he had a feeling she wrestled with both facts.

She dropped the hose to the ground and hurried to the tap. When the water was off, she brushed her hands against her shorts and turned back to face him. ‘‘You’re here.’’

‘‘I know.’’ He sighed and pretended distress. ‘‘I thought things would be different in the suburbs, but I’m not sure I approve of your welcome ceremony. Given a choice though, I guess it beats a baptism of fire.’’

Her gaze drifted from his face, down his body to his soaking trousers. She swallowed. ‘‘I’d offer to toss them in the dryer, but I’m guessing they’re not made out of a wash-and-wear fabric.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I really didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry, Todd.’’

‘‘No problem.’’ Now that he was here, he was more interested in seeing her again than angry by the accident. ‘‘Although I wouldn’t mind being able to towel off some. I’m dripping.’’

‘‘Oh. Yes, of course you’ll need a towel.’’ She glanced at the house, then down the street. Two women stood about a half block down the street. They were talking to each other and obviously interested in the goings-on in Beth’s front yard. ‘‘We’d better go inside.’’

He could feel the cold water running down his legs and pooling in his shoes. No doubt his trousers were ruined. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Beth led the way to the rear of the house. As she held open the back door, she sighed. ‘‘Payback,’’ she murmured. ‘‘I’m not the least bit surprised.’’

He was about to ask her what she meant when he stepped into the house but she disappeared, leaving him standing in the kitchen. On Friday he’d spent about thirty seconds in the foyer. He’d formed an impression of smallish spaces and average decorating. But everything looked different from his new vantage point.

The back door led into a bright kitchen, and he could see a family room beyond that. A baseball cap sat in the center of the round kitchen table. Books lay scattered across a wet bar. He could see a bike helmet, a letter jacket from a local high school and textbooks. All proof that Beth had children.

The information wasn’t news, and if it was, it should have sent him running for cover. Instead, he found himself wondering about her kids. How old were they? How many? What were they like? He’d never much thought about having children of his own, nor had he been interested in other people’s. But the thought of her children made him curious.

Beth reappeared carrying several towels. ‘‘I guess you can blot yourself dry, then take a couple of these with you to protect your car seat.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ He took the towels from her and began patting himself down. He thought about offering her the job, but figured she would probably faint at the idea.

She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘‘Um, you don’t want coffee or something, do you?’’

‘‘What a gracious invitation. I would love some coffee.’’

She flushed. ‘‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just…’’ She waved helplessly. ‘‘You’re here. I soaked you with a hose. It’s not my finest hour. I’ve been praying for the earth to open up and swallow me whole, but we don’t get many earthquakes here in Texas, so I guess I’m going to have to see this through.’’

‘‘Is that so horrible?’’

Her blue eyes darkened. ‘‘That depends on why you’re here.’’

‘‘How about that coffee?’’

‘‘Would you settle on iced tea? I just brewed some.’’

‘‘Sounds great.’’

While she poured him a glass, he settled into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Beth offered him sugar, which he declined, then reluctantly took the seat opposite his.

She tried faking a smile and failed miserably. Todd almost found it in himself to feel sorry for her. Almost. ‘‘What did you mean when you said this was payback?’’ he asked.

She cupped her hands around her glass. ‘‘It just is. For years I was so smug and happy with my life. I wanted exactly what I had—no more, no less. I felt sorry for women in unhappy marriages, I teased my suddenly single friends and never once thought that my turn would come. Here it is, whether I want it or not. Now people are talking about me. I’m one of the single friends.’’

His parents had each married and divorced so many times he’d forgotten that musical partners wasn’t a normal state of being. He wondered about her ex-husband. Was the man still in her life? Did he see his children? The thought was oddly unsettling.

‘‘How long have you been divorced?’’ he asked.

Beth stared at him. ‘‘I’m not. I’m a widow. My husband died eighteen months ago.’’ Her smile was sad. ‘‘Until then, we were one of the lucky ones. Our marriage was very happy.’’

Todd didn’t know what to say. ‘‘I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.’’

A widow? Beth? He looked at her, at her pretty face and bright red hair. In his mind, widows were elderly women all dressed in black. She still had school-age children. She wasn’t supposed to have a husband die on her. He couldn’t say why finding out about her being a widow was so startling, but it was. He didn’t like the information.

Divorce he could handle, but death was very different. Her marriage hadn’t ended because she’d fallen out of love with her husband, or he with her, but because he’d been taken from her.

She released her glass and pressed her fingertips against her cheeks. ‘‘I still miss him. Isn’t that silly? But I do. It was unexpected. A car accident.’’

She gave him more information than he wanted. ‘‘You loved him.’’ It wasn’t a question.

She straightened. ‘‘Of course. I’d married him. We had two children together.’’

Love. He heard about the emotion. Every time one of his parents married someone new, they swore it was true love which would last a lifetime. Instead, the relationships generally lasted about two years. Then there were the loud fights, the accusations. Months later, he got a phone call saying the divorce was final. A year later, an invitation to another wedding.

‘‘How long were you married?’’ he asked.