“How is Annabeth?” I asked Dale.
“Much better after she spoke with you. I wasn’t prepared for that ... it’s embarrassing.”
Annabeth got her period for the first time on Friday night, and poor Dale panicked. Now he sat red-faced across from Sheila and me at the coffee shop, where we were finalizing the order of speakers for the holiday banquet.
“Don’t be. None of us are,” Sheila said, consoling him. “When Penny told me, I accused her of lying to get attention. I was fifteen ... I mean, how much hormones are these poor kids ingesting?”
“Don’t give it a moment’s thought,” I said, wanting to change the subject. I didn’t think Dale wanted to hear about Sheila’s menstrual cycle.
“Also, sorry about the SOS text during your date,” Dale said, bringing up the elephant in my living room.
“No, no bother. It wasn’t a date. I was cooking my tortilla soup, and Priss was home. Of course she was home. It’s her house. Ugh, this is coming out all wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” Sheila tossed her hair behind her shoulder and turned to face me.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing face.” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I felt hot with shame.
“Do you want me to go?” Dale said, looking like he’d rather walk on fire than sit in on this conversation.
“Stay,” Sheila said, and he did. “Now tell us. You give Dale a woman’s opinion all the time, and now it’s his turn to pay up.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat was as dry as sawdust. No chance burning-hot coffee would make it better, so I just spoke.
“It’s ... everything is going so fast. Mick is too good for me. He’s totally cool with Priss, and she’s gaga for him. She barely wants to see Tommy, which I know isn’t hard to imagine ... but it’s allMick thisandMick that. My past is so messy, and I feel like he’s wasting his best years on me.”
Sheila shook her head and clucked her tongue, and Dale joined in with the head shaking.
“Dale, tell her,” Sheila said.
“He doesn’t see it as wasting his best years. No man would spend time with you and your daughter ... shlep his dog over like I know he does ... and not want to do all that. As for Priss, she’s a good judge of character—”
“Maybe better than me,” I said, interrupting.
“That’s a topic for another day,” Dale said. “Look, she likes Mick, and that’s a good thing. He’s not interested in your past but your future. So that’s it.”
I knew better than to argue, so I decided to cool things down a bit. “Thanks. That helps, but let’s do this, because the banquet isn’t waiting for us.”
“It’s going to be fabulous,” Sheila said, clapping her hands with enthusiasm.
I knew any mention of the event would get Sheila back on track, but it didn’t stop me from breathing a sigh of relief.
A few days later over a drink at the Oak, I turned to Mick and said, “This feels too calm.”
Dale and Sheila’s advice lingered in my mind, but my own negative thoughts overpowered it.
Mick set his Scotch down, drawing my attention to his forearm, his dress shirt rolled up. His Rolex was like a shiny beacon on his olive-toned skin, taunting me for a million reasons I wasn’t even sure of.
“I think calm is good,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know. It’s just too quiet. Almost unsettling,” I said, and he slipped the stem of my wineglass out of my hand and set it on the bar.
We were in our corner. Mick had asked me if I was okay coming back here after the last time, and I was. It held a few really momentous memories, but now reality was crashing down on me hard.
“I can see your mind chugging a million miles a minute,” he said, taking my hand in his and massaging my fingers. “We should have gone somewhere else.”
“No, it’s not that. Yes, everything is still fresh in my mind, but it’s just this is too good.”
