All he could do was have a snappy reply ready and hope it dissuaded his grandfather from pursuing a dead-end campaign that would only reawaken yearnings best left undisturbed.
11
She’d arrived. Finally.
As Diane’s car turned the corner on Anna Williams’s street, Martin tightened his grip on the Audi steering wheel. Glanced at the bouquet of hydrangeas on the seat beside him.
Hopefully bringing her favorite flowers would help pave the way for the conversation he wanted to have on this Friday evening.
Because it had been a bear of a week. Crazy busy at work, followed by an empty and too-quiet house at night.
If Diane had wanted to make a point by walking out on him, she’d succeeded.
Maybe the two of them had drifted apart, but they’d been together for a quarter of a century. So if she was looking for a promise from him to try to do better, he was ready to make it. And given their long history, she ought to be willing to listen to what he had to say.
As he watched in the rearview mirror, her car slowed. Stopped.
She must have caught sight of him and was trying to decide how to proceed.
What was he supposed to do if she turned around and drove away?
His pulse picked up, and his knuckles whitened on the wheel.
Should he have told her he was planning to stop by tonight?
Hard to tell.
She hadn’t seemed receptive to any contact from him when she’d walked out last Saturday. And she hadn’t responded to the one text he’d sent asking how her new job was going.
So despite the peace offering on the seat next to him, he might not be able to convince her to talk to him tonight.
Especially since she didn’t appear to be any too eager to approach the house.
He swallowed.
Should he get out, flowers in hand—or would that trigger a faster retreat?
Who knew?
Dealing with problems at the mill was hard, but as long as you followed certain prescribed steps, the outcome was fairly predictable.
Not so with people.
As he debated his next move, Diane’s car rolled forward again.
He exhaled.
She wasn’t going to run.
That was something, anyway.
As she pulled into the far side of the driveway beside Anna’s white-frame Cape Cod house, he slid from behind the wheel, running over the speech he’d prepared that attempted to address all the issues she’d raised over the years.
Or at least the ones that had registered.
Trouble was, he’d been tuning them out for a long while. Meaning he may have missed some. Nevertheless, his speech covered a lot. It might not convince her to come home tonight, but if it laid the groundwork for her to return in the near future, that would be sufficient.
She shut off the engine and exited the car but remained by the door. Though her expression was difficult to read, her stiff posture sent a strong message.
