Lassoing the Deputy. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ with me, girl. Of course I mean Cash.” And then she laughed shortly. “Really doesn’t sound like much of a name for a grown man. Especially not for a lawyer.”

       Alma recalled that Cash had once told her that when he reached his goal and finally became a lawyer, he was going to use only the initials of his first and middle names on his letterhead. His unfortunate first name arose from the fact that although his father was rushing to get his mother to the hospital on time, nature was against him and he didn’t make it. His mother wound up giving birth to him in the backseat. To distract her, his father had had the radio on. Johnny Cash was singing when the infant drew his first breath.

       Since they’d been hoping for a girl and had no boys’ names picked out, his mother named him after the country-and-Western icon. Cash used to say that he was extremely grateful that Loretta Lynn hadn’t been singing at the time.

       “Yes, I saw him,” Alma said quietly.

       Miss Joan nodded. “Did you two talk?”

       Alma held the lemonade glass with both hands, focusing on nothing else for the moment. She took a long sip through the straw, then shrugged as if talking to Cash or not talking to him was all really one and the same to her.

       “A few words,” she acknowledged, knowing Miss Joan wasn’t going to let this go until she said something.

       “So, you didn’t talk,” the woman concluded knowingly.

      No, not really, Alma thought. Out loud she said, “There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

       The hazel eyes seemed to bore right into her. Alma felt like squirming, but she managed to stay perfectly still under the scrutiny.

       “Since when have you taken up lying?” Miss Joan asked.

       “I’m not lying,” Alma insisted. A little of her temper emerged. “What we had was a summer romance and then he went off to college and I didn’t.” Again she shrugged, doing her best to act as if she didn’t care about Cash or about what had happened that long-ago summer. “Not much of a story, really.”

       “That’s because you left a lot out,” Miss Joan pointed out sternly. “Like the fact that Cash broke your heart.”

       That was giving Cash too much power over her, putting too much importance on the time they had spent together. Alma lifted her chin defiantly.

       “We were very young,” she insisted. “We had no business falling in love.”

       “And yet you did,” Miss Joan concluded simply. “You’re not going to have any peace until you have it out with him and find out why he didn’t come back.”

       There was no need to ask him that. “I know why he didn’t come back, Miss Joan. It’s simple. He liked that life better.” Better than me. “And talking about it from now until the cows come home isn’t going to change anything.”

       “Might be a change for the cows,” Miss Joan quipped. She was feeling Alma’s frustration and sympathizing with it. “But what it also might do is open the door to changes in the future. Hey, you’re never too old to have things happen.” This time Miss Joan’s eyes were shining. “Look at me.”

       “Hey, how about me? I love looking at you,” Harry said in his booming voice as he walked into the diner just in time to overhear the last line.

       Walking up to the counter, the silver-haired man leaned over and gave his intended bride a quick kiss on the cheek.

       “If that’s the best you two can do, you might as well forget about the wedding,” Alma told Miss Joan. “I’ve seen more passionate pet rocks in my time,” she teased.

       “Huh,” the woman snorted dismissively. “Some of us don’t like to engage in public displays of affection.” She smiled at her fiancé. “Behind closed doors, though, is a whole other story.”

       “Something to look forward to.” Harry chuckled, his blue eyes crinkling. “Right now, though, we’re here to get some of your world-famous potpie for lunch, darlin’.” He began to take out his wallet.

       Miss Joan placed her hand over it. “Put that away. You know your money’s not any good here.”

       “At least let me pay for my grandson.” He nodded toward the door.

       Cash walked in at that exact moment. “I can pay for my own meals, Grandpa,” he said. He knew his grandfather’s funds were limited. The old man had given him more than a head start, paying for his first years in college. There was no way he could ever begin to repay him, but covering expenses would at least be a small start. “Besides, I should be paying for you.”

       “Neither one of you is paying anything. Family doesn’t pay,” Miss Joan insisted. “And when I marry your grandpa, here,” she told Cash, patting Harry’s hand, “you become my family.”

       Cash smiled, appreciating the sentiment. Nonetheless, he still pushed the twenty-dollar bill toward her on the counter. “Until then, I’ll pay,” he told her. “Call it a matter of pride.”

       Miss Joan ignored the bill and left it sitting on the counter. “Two chicken potpies coming up,” she announced, raising her voice in order to relay the order to Roberto, the short-order cook in the kitchen.

       Sitting on the other side of Harry, who was a tall, heavyset man, Alma was all but obscured. Still, she knew she was kidding herself if she thought Cash hadn’t seen her as he walked in.

       With her haven invaded, it was time to go.

       Deliberately not looking to her right, Alma got off the stool. “Thanks for the lemonade, Miss Joan,” she said, addressing the back of the woman’s head.

       Miss Joan swung around, doing a quick assessment. “You didn’t finish it,” she pointed out.

       “I know, and it’s very good, but I’ve got to be getting back to the office. I’ve already been gone longer than I should.”

       “Big crime wave to deal with?” Miss Joan arched an eyebrow as she looked at her.

       Alma smiled brightly. “You never know. Nice seeing you, Harry.” She nodded at the man sitting to her right. She’d always liked Harry and didn’t want to seem rude.

       That wasn’t the case with his grandson. She barely nodded at Cash as she passed him, saying only, “You,” as if it was an afterthought. She let the single word hang there without any embellishment, allowing Cash’s imagination to supply any missing words he might have wanted to use.

       Or not. It made no difference to her.

       Alma walked out of the diner without a backward glance. The second she crossed the threshold and the door shut behind her, she quickened her pace. She wanted to get into her car and make good her escape before Cash had a chance to catch up to her.

       She should have walked faster.

       “Alma.” She heard Cash call her name but pretended not to. He didn’t give up. “Alma, wait up.”

       Since he’d raised his voice enough to cause several people to look their way as they walked by, she had СКАЧАТЬ