The Passing Storm(40)

Yuna picked up her fork. “Putting the fear of God into the average man. You must be proud.”

“Watching him hightail it did feel good.”

“I’m sure.” Yuna gestured at Rae’s briefcase. “You have the quotes?”

In between training the new employees at the Witt Agency, Rae was making progress for the June event, Night on the Square.

“All done. Quotes for brochures, posters, flyers—you name it. Three of the quotes are from printers here in the county. One is from Mentor. A larger outfit, and their prices are competitive.” She handed over a sheaf of papers. “The final decision is yours.”

“One task down, but we have a million other considerations. We still need a theme for the event. So far, no one on the committee has come up with a compelling idea. I’m tired of themes around moonlight and flowers.”

“Older couples like the traditional fare. Anything that stinks of romance. It draws them like flies.”

“Your cynicism is not your best attribute. But you’re right. We need a change.” Considering, Yuna began swiveling her office chair, side to side. “We should come up with a theme to draw more younger people. Besides, lots of singles attend. You go every year.”

“Only because you insist.” Rae didn’t mind playing third wheel at Yuna’s table, and the food was always good. “If you’re aiming to draw in more singles, come up with activities other than dancing.”

Yuna looked intrigued. “Like what?”

“I don’t know . . . what about gambling? We can set up a mini casino at one end of the square, with the dance floor at the other end. If people want to go stag, they’ll have options.”

“That isn’t the worst idea in the world.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Yuna dipped her fork into the carton. “Will you reconsider attending the planning meetings? Sit down, give your input—when the meetings wrap up, you can hightail it out like Mr. Cox. I promise no one will care. You don’t have to stick around and chat with Katherine or Sally, or anyone else.”

The tension returned to Rae’s neck. “Sometimes you’re a pain.”

Yuna batted her eyes. “This is me begging.” Pointing at her face, she added a charmingly fake smile. “Please. Change your mind. Just this once, for me.”

Intuition lifted the hairs on the back of Rae’s neck. Yuna cajoled and bribed with chocolate. She nudged Rae toward difficult choices. Sometimes she was relentless, but she didn’t beg.

A woman had to draw the line somewhere.

On closer inspection, fatigue rimmed Yuna’s eyes. Exhaustion, or something more worrisome?

Anxiety surged through Rae. “What aren’t you telling me? Yuna, are you ill?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m great. It’s just that, well . . .”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Yuna shrugged. The cheerful expression fled her features, and she suddenly appeared troubled. “I mean, it’s nothing bad. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Why the mystery, then? You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I need you at the meetings, that’s all. No one has volunteered to lead the committee. I’ll get stuck with the honors.”

Rae laughed. “What else is new?”

The same process occurred each year. Yuna insisted she wasn’t taking charge of the effort. The other volunteers waited her out. Over time, she became the de facto leader.

“I can’t handle everything. I need your help.”

“Gosh, Yuna. Thanks for the guilt trip.”

“Is it working?” Yuna held out the fork, twined with savory noodles. “Want a bite? I’ll share.”

“No.”

In her coat pocket, Rae’s phone buzzed. She scanned her father’s impatient text:

Will hell freeze before U bring dinner?

“Let’s talk later,” she said. “I have to go.”





Chapter 14


At home, the living room was empty. Rae set the carryout on the kitchen counter.

“Dad? Quinn?”

From the hallway, she detected the click of nails on hardwood. Her arrival had alerted the family’s new four-legged member.

Shelby trotted in from wherever she’d been sleeping. Quinn’s bed, or Rae’s—lately the adventurous mutt roamed free, seeking out the coziest places in the house. Whenever the dog chased critters in dreamland, she slept belly up, her paws twitching and pedaling the air. The mutt’s voracious appetite was less amusing. A half-eaten snack left on a table or the counter was likely to disappear.

Shelby’s hunger was matched only by her stealth.

“Hey, girl.” She ruffled the dog’s ears. “Where is everyone?”

Wherever her father and Quinn had gone, they’d left the kitchen immaculate. The cabinets were scrubbed down and buffed to a high gleam. The spotless floor smelled delightfully of geraniums. Last week, Quinn suggested that Rae add the all-natural cleaning product to the grocery list.

Like the kitchen, the adjacent greenhouse was also spotless. There wasn’t a smidgen of mold on the glass panes. Junk that had been collecting against the walls for years—boxes of knickknacks, forgotten sporting equipment, and crates of old power tools—was cleared away.