Page 17 of Landing Love

“So, did you see Hawley dancing with Aurora Belmont? Is it just me, or did they look awfully cozy for two distant acquaintances?”

Bill took another sip, enjoying the way tendrils of relaxation unwound the afternoon’s tensions. “I have nothing to say on the matter,” he said with a wink. “Nothing at all.”

“You know something, you scamp. Confess. I know it’s killing you.” Pritchard knew him too well.

He was dying to spill all about Hank and Rory, but he’d promised he wouldn’t, so he merely hinted. Forcefully. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I can’t say a word. You’ll have to ask Hawley.”

“Then they’ve been secretly seeing each other.”

Bill shrugged enigmatically.

“It’s getting serious?”

Bill shrugged again. “I have nothing whatsoever to say.”

“Hawley, you dog.” Pritchard laughed. “To Hank Hawley and Aurora Belmont.” He raised his glass.

With a sly smile, Bill clinked glasses. “Remember, I didn’t say a word.”

“No, you did not.” Pritchard smiled and shook his head.

“So now tell me about you and this sexy widow of yours. Is it true what they say about widows?” Thompson swirled his whiskey and smirked.

Suddenly, the relaxation Bill had been easing into disappeared. How dare he make insinuations about Ann! Bill’s muscles tensed as he glared at his friend. “Not another word, Thompson. Mrs. Prince is a grieving widow, an upstanding woman, and a pillar of virtue. I won’t have her name dragged through the mud of your innuendo.”

Thompson’s eyes widened. “What’s gotten into you, O’Donnell? You’re usually the first person to sing the unholy praises of the latest loose woman you’ve met.”

Bill winced. It was all too true, but no one, not even his best friends, got to say a word about Ann. “Mrs. Prince is different. I know I’ve talked a lot of nonsense in the past, but she deserves better than our barroom banter.”

“Oh, you’ve got it bad, O’Donnell. Pretty soon, you’re going to be caught in the parson’s trap same as I am. Mark my words.”

Oddly, Thompson’s words filled him with hope instead of anxiety. He didn’t mind the thought of being married to Ann one bit. Not that he was likely to talk her into it any time soon. Nonetheless, he’d had about enough of this particular conversation.

“I should call it a night.” Bill emptied his glass. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But—”

“It’s been a long day with several near-death experiences. I’d like to rest before tomorrow morning’s flight.” He got up and plunked down fifteen cents to cover his tab.

“Suit yourself, O’Donnell.”

As Bill strode back to his hotel, he couldn’t help wondering why he reacted so violently to his friend’s ribbing when he’d always gone along with it in the past. Something had changed for him, and he wasn’t ready to examine it too closely. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to put up with any dirty suggestions about Ann. Maybe he shouldn’t have with previous women either. Well, there was no time like the present for changing his ways. He might never win Ann’s affections, but he wanted to be worthy of her with all his heart. Going forward, Bill O’Donnell was turning over a new leaf.

7

Ann sat on her piano bench amongst a sea of boxes and tried not to cry. There was nothing quite as lonely as waiting in an apartment filled with boxes of all one’s earthly possessions. It was like a funeral of sorts. All the memories were packed away. The walls were bare. The Gilbert and Sullivan no longer sat on her piano. Every last embroidered pillow and crocheted doily was boxed away. This was the home where she’d lived with Roger, and she was saying goodbye forever.

She remembered when Roger first brought her here. They were newly married, just returned from their honeymoon. Instead of going to Roger’s place, he brought her to this apartment and carried her over the threshold. It stood empty, just as it would be in a few hours, but the emptiness was full of possibility. She was elated. It was perfect for them, exactly what she’d dreamed of. After carefully examining every room, they retired to the bedroom and made use of the only piece of furniture in the place—a bed.

She would be saying goodbye to that bed today. A buyer was coming by to pick it up around the same time Bill and his friends were supposed to arrive. She didn’t need a queen-sized bed in Merrick, nor was there room. Her mother’s twin bed would do just fine.

The doorbell rang, and she hurried downstairs. As she opened the door, Bill was standing there with Mary by his side, that devastating grin of his making something flutter in Ann’s belly. “Come in. Everything is all packed up and ready. Mary, it’s so good to see you! I wasn’t expecting you.”

Walking up the stairs, Mary said, “Bill thought you might need help with Junior, since you’ll need to direct where things go when we get to your house.”

Ann opened the door to her apartment and beckoned them inside. “That’s very thoughtful.”

Holding the door open, she glanced at Bill whose admiring gaze made her heart beat faster. It’s just because he reminds you of Roger, especially here.