The Truth About Tara. Darlene Gardner

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      Mary Dee raised her dark eyebrows. “Then why do you live two blocks away from her?”

      “You know why,” Tara said. “My place was such a great deal, I couldn’t pass it up.”

      “Was that really the reason?” Mary Dee asked. “Or did your mother need you to live close by?”

      Tara twirled the tiny straw in her margarita glass, not bothering to point out that while she relished her own space she liked being available for her mother. Mary Dee would probably find fault with that, too. “You’re being awfully hard on me today.”

      Mary Dee laid her hand on Tara’s arm. “I don’t mean to be. I’m only trying to get you to be a little more selfish.”

      Tara reached across the table, plucked one of Mary Dee’s breaded mushrooms from her plate and popped it into her mouth.

      “How’s that?” she asked.

      Mary Dee laughed. “Better. Now, are you going to tell me about that guy I saw you with yesterday?”

      Tara blinked, blindsided by the question.

      “You didn’t really think I’d forgotten about it, did you? So spill.”

      “He was nobody,” Tara said.

      “What? A guy that hot—he was definitely somebody.”

      “A tourist,” Tara clarified.

      “What did he want?”

      It was on the tip of Tara’s tongue to repeat the crazy tale Jack DiMarco had spun of the abducted three-year-old and Tara’s own uncanny resemblance to the age-progression photo.

      “Directions.” Tara wasn’t sure why she lied, especially because she seldom censored herself in front of Mary Dee. Tara often felt as though her sister’s death had created a void in her life that hadn’t been filled until Tara had become friends with Mary Dee.

      “That’s it?” Mary Dee’s expression crumbled. “I had such high hopes for you two.”

      “You’re a real pain with that stuff since you got married,” Tara complained. “Just because you’re in love doesn’t mean I have to be.”

      “Being in love is wonderful.” Mary Dee’s lips rose in the dreamy smile she got whenever anyone referred to marriage or husbands or love. Then again, she was still a newlywed. “If you’d make room in your life for a relationship, you could feel wonderful, too.”

      “I’ve had plenty of relationships,” Tara countered.

      “Short ones,” Mary Dee said. “You find fault with everybody you date.”

      “That’s not true,” Tara said. “I’m just not willing to settle for anything less than fireworks, like you have with Bill and my mom had with my dad.”

      “You should have gone to Wyoming to increase your chances of finding someone, then.” Mary Dee gestured to the happy-hour crowd, made up of almost all couples. “Speaking of that, did you at least give that tourist your number?”

      “No, Mary Dee,” Tara said with exaggerated patience. “I did not give my number to the stranger who stopped to ask for directions.”

      “What good are you, girl?” Mary Dee asked, shaking her head. “I know you want children some day. You need a man for that.”

      Tara laid a finger on her cheek. “So now you think the tourist who asked for directions should be the father of my children? I don’t even know if he’s single.”

      “You didn’t check out his ring finger?” Mary Dee asked.

      She had, actually. It was bare. She was uncomfortably aware that she’d found him attractive. No, not merely attractive. Appealing. If he’d been anybody else, she might have found a way to give him her number.

      Mary Dee pointed a finger at her. “You did, didn’t you? I knew you were attracted to him. Too bad you don’t know where he’s staying. You could at least have a fling with him while he’s visiting.”

      Tara’s heartbeat sped up at the prospect, although she should not have been thinking about Jack DiMarco in those terms. She had ample reason to hope she never saw him again. “I guess I missed my chance, then.”

      “Too bad.” Mary Dee fanned herself. “Now, that’s a man who could get a woman thinking about her needs.”

      Tara’s cell phone vibrated and skittered a few inches on the table, as if it were alive. With an apologetic look at Mary Dee, Tara picked it up and checked the display. Her mother. Not that she’d tell her friend that.

      “Sorry,” Tara said. “I’ve got to take this.”

      Mary Dee nodded, watching Tara over the rim of her glass as she sipped her margarita.

      “Hey, what’s up?” Tara asked, careful not to call her mom by name.

      “I think I smell gas in the kitchen!” her mother cried. “I checked and the pilot light’s not on. Wouldn’t you know the shut-off valve’s behind the stove, which is way too heavy for me to move.”

      Tara turned away from Mary Dee and spoke directly into the phone so her mother could hear and her friend couldn’t. “Did you call the gas company?”

      “Yes, but what if it takes them an hour to get here like it did the last time?” her mother asked. “I can’t stay outside on the porch with Danny for an hour. You know how he gets when his routine is disrupted.”

      Tara tapped her nails on the table, trying to come up with the best solution to the problem. “I guess I could be there in about twenty minutes.”

      “Could you?” her mother asked. “That would be wonderful.”

      Tara cast a glance at Mary Dee, who was still watching her. Tara wouldn’t be leaving her friend high and dry if she cut out early. Mary Dee had mentioned that her husband had rented a movie they were planning to watch tonight.

      “I’ll leave right now,” she told her mom. “In the meantime, open some windows and stay out of the kitchen.”

      “Already done. Bless you!” Her mother made a few more gratifying noises before Tara disconnected the call.

      Taking a deep breath, Tara addressed Mary Dee. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I’ve gotta go.”

      “Of course you do.”

      Tara finished off the last swallow of her margarita, set enough money on the table to cover their tab and stood up. “I really am sorry, M.D.”

      “I know you are,” Mary Dee said.

      Tara turned away from her friend and started for the exit. She hadn’t gotten two steps when she heard Mary Dee’s voice calling after her.

      “Say hey to your mom for me.”

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