“As are we.” Clem patted her hand. “Remember, Olive. No step is too small.”
Olive nodded, a lump crowding her throat.
“Look, there’s Mack,” Winnie exclaimed, pointing to the crowd lining King Street. “With Jude and Emil in tow.”
The others began waving, but Olive was frozen. Dread crept down her spine, and she glared at the dratted veil she’d just removed. Now, more than ever, she wanted to hide behind it. How could she look at Emil after what they’d done? It hurt enough to imagine his indifference. His pity. His disgust. She didn’t need to witness it as well. But—oh no. What if Emil wasn’t there for her at all? Was he there to stand with them, or against them? It occurred to her that she had no idea—he’d never shared his stance, and she’d never dared to ask. Ninny that she was, she’d become more preoccupied with whether his kisses would make her hear music than his political opinions.
“Who is Jude?” Rhoda was asking.
“He’s the mountain on Mack’s right.”
“Jude LeBlanc, forestry professor and the only man I’ve ever seen eat a whole chicken in one sitting,” Clem added. “I’m not surprised to see him here.”
Winnie’s head whipped around. “You know Jude?”
“Of course. We’ve been on the same side of the picket line many times over the last few years. He’s a good man.”
“Ooh. How about you and me and Mack and?—”
“Jude is my friend, nothing more.”
“But—”
Clem let out a peal of laughter. “Winnie, for someone who was so hesitant to fall in love, you certainly are pushing us to do the same.”
“Perhaps,” the redhead said sheepishly.
Love. What would it be like to fall in love?
As if hypnotized, Olive’s gaze rose from her lap, drawn inexorably to Emil’s just as the auto passed him by. She didn’t mean to. She didn’t want to. But it happened.
The instant their eyes met, something flickered across his face. None of the emotions she had feared, but something entirely different. Something she’d seen before. There was an almost imperceptible jolt, like he’d received a shock, and a strange gulping motion, as if he’d swallowed too fast. Then the auto moved on, leaving him behind, but his expression was seared into her mind. What did it mean?
“Are my eyes scary?” she blurted.
“Of course not,” Winnie said at once. “They’re a very nice shade of brown.”
Olive’s lips flattened. Clearly, there was something about her eye contact that unsettled Emil, and she needed to know what it was. If she understood it, she could control it. Use it to her advantage. Or, if necessary, ensure it never happened again.
“What I mean is, are they like Rhoda’s?”
“Are my eyes terrifying?”
“Yes,” Winnie and Olive said in unison.
Rhoda’s cackle whipped through the cold air. “I think I like knowing that.”
“Of course you do.” Clem snickered before turning back to Olive. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…” She fidgeted in her seat. She was tempted to tell them everything about Emil, but now was not the time. Not the place. And not when there was every chance she was imagining the whole thing. “There’s a—a man who—who reacts curiously when I look at him.”
“Olive Becket, do you have a secret?” Winnie shrieked.
More like she had a dozen secrets.
“Never mind,” she said in a rush. “I’m being silly.”
“They’re very pleasant,” Winnie assured her. “Large?—”
