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Will blushes. “I didn’t mean to offend you. But when you think about it, we’re an interesting threesome. You’ve banished your husband to Siberia, Ashton sent hers to prison, and I’m a single dad struggling to make it through the day.”
“That sorta makes sense. I guess,” I say in a skeptical tone. “Thank you for the invitation. We’d love to stay for dinner. As long as the subject of husbands is off duty.” I’m dying to know why Ashton’s husband is in prison, but I won’t ask for fear she’ll question me about mine.”
Ashton flashes her pearly white teeth. “Deal.”
Preparing for dinner is a group effort. We chat like three old friends as we work. Ashton tells me about her career as an architect, and Will talks briefly about being a builder. I enjoy hearing about their joint projects and appreciation for historic preservation.
When Ashton asks what I do for a living, I tell her I’m a stay-at-home mom and wannabe author. This leads to a lengthy discussion about the novels we’ve recently read.
Our threesome feels like a group of people bonded by a common denominator. Although instead of misfits, I would label us the Wounded Hearts Club.
SIXTEEN
WILL
I’m at the sink rinsing dinner plates when I feel my sister’s eyes boring a hole into the side of my head. I glance over at her. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re humming.” She removes the meat platter from the sink and begins drying it with a dish towel. “Not that there’s anything wrong with humming. Just out of character for you.”
“I agree. I’m not one to sing. I’m distracted. I have a lot on my mind.” I place the plate in the dishwasher and reach for another.
Ashton nudges me with her elbow. “Is Julia the object of these thoughts? You seem quite taken with her.”
“Julia? No way. She’s not my type. Her hair’s too short.”
Ashton stops drying. “Are you joking? She’s stunningly beautiful. She can totally pull off the boy-short cut. What does a woman’s hair have to do with her character anyway?”
“Nothing, I guess. Besides, it’s too soon after Tracy’s death for me to be thinking about another woman,” I say more to myself than my sister.
Ashton opens a deep drawer and slides the platter in with the other serving plates. “I admit, I’m a little suspicious of Julia.”
I glance over at her. “How so?”
“She says she’s from Colorado, but earlier in the day, Buddy told me he moved here from Texas.”
I wave off her concern. “He’s four years old. I’m sure he’s just confused.”
“You’re probably right. But if not Julia, what’s with the good mood?”
I place the last plate in the dishwasher and close the door. “Is a guy not allowed to be in a good mood?”
“Yes. But you’re not most guys.” She drapes the damp dishtowel over the oven’s door handle.
I lean back against the counter. “Truth be told, I have no reason to be humming. My therapy session this morning was tough. This was only my second session. I’m terrified of what’s to come.”
“I’m sorry, Will. Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Maybe. After I give the girls their bath,” I say, pushing off the counter.
I drag my exhausted daughters up the stairs to the Jack and Jill bathroom that connects their two bedrooms. They whine during bath time and turn down my offer to read to them. We say prayers, and I tuck them into their respective beds, kissing each on the forehead before turning out the lights.
When I go back downstairs, Ashton has opened a bottle of red wine and moved outside to the veranda. I grab a glass and join her. “I thought you quit drinking.”
She looks up at me. “I have for the most part. But I see nothing wrong in having just one glass at the end of a hectic week.”
“I agree.” I hold my glass up to hers. “Cheers.” I take a sip of wine and settle back in the rocker. “The days are getting shorter.”
“Mm-hmm. And the nights cooler.” Ashton rests her head against the back of the chair. “I love this time of year. It’ll be Halloween soon. Being the last house on a dead-end street, I doubt we get many trick-or-treaters.”
