“Give him my love, would you?”

“Of course. I’ve been worried about you,” he added as he stared down at the sidewalk.

“Worried about me?” I asked, forcing surprise into my voice. “Whatever for?”

He looked up, wearing a crooked half smile. “I know you, Lydia. When you’re under stress, it shows.”

“How would you know? You haven’t seen me in weeks.”

“I have seen you—I just haven’t made a point of seeking you out. You’re tired and—”

“Yes,” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t need Brad Goetz to tell me what I already knew.

“Let me take you out for a drink,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

“I know you’re dating someone else now, but this is just as friends.”

Actually, I could hardly believe Margaret hadn’t enlightened Brad, hadn’t told him I’d lied about meeting someone new. I’d done that out of pride, and I regretted it.

“Why not?”

“I have one hard and fast rule when it comes to men,” I said, smiling as I spoke. “I avoid the married ones.”

“Janice and I are divorced.”

“Are you or are you not reconciling?” I snapped. Damn it, he couldn’t have it both ways.

He didn’t answer at first, then muttered, “Janice and I are talking.”

“In that case, having a drink with me would be inappropriate. I appreciate the offer, Brad, but…I don’t think so.”

Brad said goodbye rather abruptly and left. I stood in the doorway, my arms crossed, and watched him walk away, feeling empty and alone. I closed and locked the door again, then returned slowly to my office.

When someone tapped on the door ten minutes later, I half suspected Brad had come back. I turned and retraced my steps to peer through the glass.

It wasn’t Brad. Instead, Alix Townsend stood on the other side. She held a plate of chocolate éclairs, which guaranteed I’d open the door.

“Hi,” she greeted me cheerfully as I let her in.

I’d dropped in at the charity knitting session that afternoon and she hadn’t been there, so I’d guessed she was working at the café. Her classes were usually in the morning.

“I saw you and Brad talking just now. You don’t have to tell me what happened unless you want to—but I thought these might help.”

I hid a smile. Brad might have succeeded in getting past my threshold if he’d brought chocolate.

“I don’t have any worries a chocolate éclair won’t cure,” I said, leading the way to the office. “I’ve got coffee on, if you’re interested.”

“I’d love a cup.” Alix followed me into my tiny office, where she settled on a corner of my desk, moving papers aside and making herself at home. I didn’t mind. That was Alix—why sit on a chair if there was a desk? Why walk if you could run? I loved her exuberance, her loyalty and her frequently unconventional behavior.

I poured her a mug and felt slightly guilty because it looked so dark. I hoped it wasn’t bitter.

“So Brad came to see you,” she said, unable to hide her curiosity, after all.

In retrospect, my attitude toward him seemed coldhearted. Unkind. Part of me wanted to call him back, to begin the conversation all over again. I wouldn’t, though. Leaving things as they were was for the best. “Lydia?” Alix asked. She reached out to touch me.

I nodded. “Yes, he did.”

“Anything happening?” Although she’d brought the éclairs for me, Alix scooped one off the plate and took a bite. When the custard filling oozed out from the sides, she grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk.

“Nothing really. How about with you and Jordan?”

Alix raised her eyebrows. “You’re changing the subject.” She picked up the plate and offered me an éclair.

I didn’t need a second invitation. “I know. I don’t want to talk about Brad, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t want to talk about you, either,” Alix informed me. “He makes a delivery to the café every now and then, and he’s his old chatty self until I mention your name. Then he shuts up tighter than a coffin.”

I didn’t like the image. “We both have our reasons.”

“So it seems.” She hopped down from the desk. “Gotta go. Jordan and I are seeing a movie with the youth group tonight. I just thought I’d come over and say hello.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said. I walked her to the door, unlocking it and letting her out. As soon as she was gone, I relocked the door, found Whiskers waiting for me and headed up the stairs to my apartment—first remembering to turn off the lights and retrieve Alix’s plate. I could’ve been having a drink with Brad, I mused nostalgically, but for emotional protection, I’d decided on my own company. I’d spend the night with my television, my cat and my éclairs.

Whiskers meowed as though to remind me I wasn’t alone. He was absolutely right.

CHAPTER 36

BETHANNE HAMLIN

Bethanne had three parties scheduled that week and she’d carefully gone over the budget for each. Finances would be tight until her alimony check arrived and she received full payment for the parties. Paying for all her supplies out of her dwindling checking account meant she’d have very little cash until the weekend, which meant, in turn, that she’d have to delay buying groceries. She didn’t dare use her VISA to buy party stuff; she’d reached her credit limit. Still, she could manage until she deposited the various checks. The problem was, she found herself writing checks and hoping they wouldn’t clear for a few days. It was a complicated balancing act, since her expenses still exceeded her income.

Unfortunately, Annie and Andrew constantly needed money for one thing or another. Their school expenses were legitimate and she couldn’t defer them. These amounts, plus household bills and business costs—a balancing act, indeed.

The phone rang, and although she hoped it was another party booking, Caller ID showed that it was her bank. She grabbed the receiver, praying that somehow the loan officer had recognized the error of his ways and was calling to offer her a loan.

A few years ago, Grant had taken her to Vegas and they’d brought travelers’ checks that equaled more than what she wanted to borrow now. Vegas? The trip was a complete surprise and Bethanne had been so pleased and excited. In light of what she’d learned since, she suspected Grant had arranged it out of guilt.

“Hello,” she answered in her most cheerful voice. “This is Bethanne.”

Her smile quickly died as the bank manager explained that a check she’d written to the local service station had bounced. In the past, the bank had provided overdraft protection, for a fee, to cover small amounts, but wouldn’t any longer. In addition, the service station charged a seventy-five-dollar fee for bounced checks.

“Seventy-five dollars,” she cried, outraged at the unnecessary expense. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I assure you I’m not.”

“How…much is this going to cost me?” A tank of gas was normally about twenty-five dollars; now there were bank fees, penalties and the seventy-five bucks the service station had heaped on.

The total was staggering. “How much?” she cried.

“When would it be convenient for you to make a deposit?” the bank manager asked.

“I—I—” She didn’t have it; she simply didn’t have it. The only thing left to do was take a ring or two down to the pawnshop and see what she could get. “I’ll bring some money this afternoon,” she said meekly, feeling chastised.

The manager wasn’t an ogre—he was only doing his job—but Bethanne was in a panic. She rushed upstairs to her jewelry box and sorted through what she had, which wasn’t much.

Why, oh why, hadn’t Grant given her a diamond bracelet instead of that stupid trip to Vegas? A bracelet she could cash in, but the trip had been a waste. Grant lost all the money they’d taken with them. That hadn’t stopped him from returning, she noted bitterly. He’d married Tiffany in Vegas. Bethanne found herself hoping he’d lost big—in more ways than one.

This negative thinking wasn’t good for her, but she felt desperate. Other than pawning her jewelry, she had very few options. Annie and Andrew had bank accounts and could probably lend her what she needed. She supposed that was better than asking Grant. But…she couldn’t do either of those things. The bank could repossess the house before she’d approach her ex-husband for another dime. Asking family, especially her kids, or her friends was out of the question. She had her pride—and, apparently, very little else.

After much deliberation, Bethanne chose her wedding band—it wasn’t doing her any good in a jewelry box—and a small sapphire ring, plus a pair of gold earrings. Surely that would give her enough to at least cover the check, the fees and the penalties.

She was sickened by how little money she got for all three, but it was enough to pay the necessary minimum at the bank. This had been a valuable lesson. She couldn’t write checks for money she didn’t have, no matter how soon she’d have it.

As she walked out of the bank, she nearly collided with her ex-husband in the parking lot. Her face instantly went beet-red, as though Grant could read on her forehead the reason for her visit.

“Bethanne,” Grant said, taking her by the shoulders in order to steady her.

“Grant.” She wasn’t sure how to respond. “Hi…I was just—” She closed her mouth, refusing to embarrass herself. This wasn’t his concern.

“You’re looking good,” he said, stepping back to admire her.

The new hairstyle had been an extravagance she regretted. Annie and Courtney had talked her into it. The stylist had done wonders with her hair and suggested she color it. When Bethanne explained she couldn’t possibly afford that, the two girls had insisted they could do it.

They’d selected one of the more expensive brands—another ten bucks—in a deep brunette with auburn overtones. Considering that she’d put herself in the hands of teenagers, it’d turned out surprisingly well.

“Thanks,” Bethanne said casually.

“What are you doing here?” Grant asked.

As if that was any of his business. “Making a deposit. What about you?” He didn’t need to know the details, but at least she’d told him the truth.

“A withdrawal,” he said, and he didn’t sound too happy about it. “Switching money from savings to checking.”

“For little ol’ me?” she asked in her most saccharine drawl.

“Actually, no,” he said, frowning.

“Could it be that your new wife is straining your finances?” she asked, not hiding the gleam in her eyes.

Grant snickered. “You don’t know the half of it.”

He didn’t sound like he was joking, which should’ve pleased her, but Bethanne was bothered by the dark circles under his eyes. “Is everything okay with you, Grant?” she asked. His well-being no longer had anything to do with her, and yet she couldn’t prevent the automatic rush of concern.