“What’s beautiful,” she said, “is that from the moment Jo Ellen and I reconnected, I’ve…” She wanted to say changed, but would he understand? “I’ve relaxed,” she said instead. “She reminds me how to laugh and let go of control and truly have fun.”
He beamed at her. “That’s the best kind of friend.”
The server interrupted with an appetizer platter of bacon-wrapped scallops that smelled as delicious as they looked. They thanked her, accepted napkins, silverware, and plates, and smiled at each other before starting.
“I’m sorry to monopolize the conversation,” she said, leaning back to take a breath.
“I loved every minute of that story,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “There’s nothing like a friend that changes you. That’s what Bear did for me.”
“Bear?” She remembered the name from the day they’d met. He’d said he and his biker friends drove that road every year on that day. “The friend you lost?”
His smile wavered and he nodded. “What a great man he was,” he said. “But he had that same effect on me. Changed me in a good way. Brought out the best in me—though, come on, that bar is low.”
She laughed softly. “What about Picks?” she asked.
“What about me?”
A man who might have been eighty, with a shock of white hair and a rugged complexion, came up to their table in a bright yellow apron with a fish on it, holding a platter.
Brick gave a soft hoot and stood to shake hands and exchange hugs, then he introduced Maggie to Kenneth “Picks” Pickering.
“So pleased to meet you.” Picks set down the tray and ignored Brick, his attention on Maggie. “Woman, I hope you are made of strong stuff to handle this man.”
She laughed, giving up any pretense of the country club she’d dressed for. Instead, she picked up her nearly empty wine glass and saluted him with it. “I’m getting there.”
He howled at that and served their food with a mouthwatering description of how he’d prepared each dish. He chatted for a minute, no more, instructed them to eat and enjoy, and put a huge hand on Brick’s shoulder.
“This is good for you, man. Pretty lady, date night. I’m proud of you.”
With that, he left, and Maggie studied the man across from her. “Why would he be proud?” she asked.
“Because I haven’t been on a first date for a few decades, either. I buried my wife three years ago and…” He swallowed, his voice thick. “I really couldn’t imagine anyone else would ever sit across from me in this booth again.”
She stared at him. She knew he was widowed, but hadn’t really thought about him experiencing grief. She just imagined him too strong for that.
“I’m so sorry, Brick.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed. “So am I. And I ain’t lookin’ to replace her, Mags. Just some company and entertainment. Nothing more. I swear.”
She searched his face, lost in those eyes for a moment, and processed what he was saying.
“Just friends,” she clarified.
“Good friends,” he added. “Someone to ride with, if the spirit moves you. Have some dinner, share a drink, lots of stories, hang out with the grands. Come see my bees.”
She remembered he’d mentioned he was a beekeeper.
“I bake like Betty Crocker’s older brother and can quote every line from the movieShane.” He leaned forward. “Oh, I know you’re a classy broad. Stiff as a board and relentless with your rules.”
“I am,” she agreed, making him smile.
“I think we could be real good friends, Mags. That’s all I’m looking for.” He picked up the shot glass that he’d barely touched. “Drink to it?”
She picked up one of her own. “To being friends.”
“Real good friends and you have to take that shot or it doesn’t count.”
She tapped his glass, knocked it back, and sucked in a breath when the whiskey burned her throat. She’d just made a deal and, as her granddaughter Lacey would say, she wasn’t mad about it.
