Shadows In The Mirror. Linda Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ what to do or say. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told her. But, of course I had to. Friends don’t keep stuff like this from their friends. We took our slices and Cokes into her front room overlooking the water.

      She took a bite of the pizza, proclaimed it wonderful and then said, “Did you hear that Barbara’s son Jared is home from Guatemala?”

      I knew she was changing the subject on purpose, but I had no desire to bring the subject back to Evan, so I said, “That’s all I’ve been hearing about.”

      I took a long drink of Coke. Through the trees, the gray water of Malletts Bay looked as solid as iron.

      Barbara’s eldest son had taken a six-month leave of absence from his police job to work on a mission project in Guatemala. Barbara and her husband, Harold, had invited some of the people his age from church to a supper where he’d be talking about the trip and showing pictures.

      “I know Jared,” Johanna said. “You haven’t met him, but you’d like him. He’d be perfect for you.”

      Clever ploy, I thought. Get me interested in Jared so she wouldn’t have to worry about Evan and me. I leaned forward and touched my friend’s arm. “Johanna, you don’t have to worry. I am not interested in Evan.” I’m not interested in that type of guy anymore—all charm and no substance, I wanted to add, but didn’t. “And I’m not interested in Jared either. I’ve had enough of men for a while. All men.”

      FOUR

      For the next two days I studiously avoided Evan. I went for my coffee a whole hour earlier. I knew this wouldn’t last. He had my photo and would be calling. But maybe the few days would give me time to organize my thoughts, and maybe my emotions. My problem was I’d let a morning wink take over my life. I seriously wanted to believe what I had told Johanna last night, that Evan held no attraction for me whatsoever, that no man did. But, unfortunately, I found myself thinking about him more, not less.

      On the second day of not seeing Evan, Marty and Dot came in to buy a paint-by-numbers set. “It’s for Dot’s granddaughter,” Marty said. “It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

      “How nice,” I said.

      “There’s going to be a big party,” Dot added.

      “Have a wonderful time.” I put their purchase in a bag and looked at Marty. The other day something about him had seemed strangely familiar. Today that feeling was gone. Today he was just an ordinary nice-looking older gentleman, obviously in love with his lady friend.

      One the third day, Evan Baxter came into my shop. I was in the back unpacking boxes of yarn when I recognized his voice.

      “Is the lady of the shop in?”

      I held my breath.

      “Just a minute,” Barbara said. “And you are?”

      “Evan. Evan Baxter.”

      “Oh yes, of course!” she exclaimed. “My husband, Harold, bought a camera from you some time ago, and talked about your lovely photographs.”

      “I remember him.”

      “Marylee,” she singsonged. “Someone here to see you.”

      I wiped my hands on my Crafts and More apron and went out to the front. As soon as I got there I wished I’d had time to run a brush through my hair. Still, today it didn’t quite look as bad as it had three days ago. At least I’d been up early enough this morning to blow-dry some life into it.

      “Hey,” he said. Then he winked at me.

      “Hello,” I said.

      “I’ve missed you in the mornings.”

      “I’ve been busy.”

      “Too busy for a nonfat latte?”

      “I’ve been getting to the shop earlier.” I ran my hands up and down my apron. All of the sentences I’d rehearsed for this occasion had flown completely out of my head. Plus, Barbara was observing this whole conversation with amusement. Since she’d come to work for me, she’d been like a mother hen, trying to hook me up with every available guy she knew, especially with Jared. I hadn’t quite confided in her that since I’d been trampled on and tramped over by Mark, I was interested in no one. Not even her eldest son Jared.

      “So, did you find anything about the picture?” I asked him.

      He nodded. “You have time for coffee?”

      “Right now?” I glanced at my watch. “I’m working now. There’s a lot to do.” I looked around me. The shop was dead. We hadn’t had a customer in half an hour and new boxes of fabric supplies were mostly unpacked.

      “You go,” Mother Barbara said, shooing me out. “Have a coffee.” Then to Evan she said, “This young woman is working way too hard. And not sleeping. Plus, there are men outside her door.”

      “Barbara!” I shrieked at her.

      “No, what I mean is, she sees people smoking down in the street in the middle of the night, so she can’t sleep at night. That would be enough to put anyone off their Wheaties.”

      Why, I wondered, had I shared that little tidbit of my life with her?

      Evan raised an eyebrow and a worried look crept across his face. “People? Outside your house?”

      “It’s nothing,” I said. “It was one night. A few nights ago when it was raining. Someone was in the bus shelter across the street smoking.”

      “You said he? It was a man?” he said, looking worried.

      “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell. But it was nothing. It was someone stepping outside for a smoke in the middle of the night. What’s so odd about that? Most people don’t smoke in their houses anymore, so what do you do when you want a smoke in the middle of the night? That’s all it was. I don’t even know why I brought it up.”

      At the time I’d been so sure the person, either man or woman, had been looking up at my apartment, at me, even. But the more I thought about it, the more fanciful that idea became. I needed to steel myself against becoming like my aunt.

      Evan and I went next door to the coffee shop. He ordered a house dark roast black and without even asking got me a nonfat latte. He also brought a huge, drippy cinnamon bun to our table with two forks. The two-forks bit seemed a little too chummy to me.

      He paid for the coffees, which made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. I had hired him, so I should be paying, right? What does one do in these situations?

      “Your sales clerk is an interesting woman,” he told me.

      “She’s great. Although she says exactly what’s on her mind. Very blunt, as you may have noticed.”

      “That’s refreshing, though. You’ve got a nice shop there. You’ve fixed it up well.”

      “Thank you,” I said. I looked at his hands again as they deftly cut the cinnamon bun in two with a plastic knife.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ