A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(32)

“Would you be willing to have dinner with me? My treat.” He sounded hesitant, as if he expected her to decline.

“That would be nice,” she said impulsively. “Where would you like to meet?”

“Anthony’s, say around six. I’ll make the reservation.”

The waterfront restaurant wasn’t far from Pike Place Market and was well known in the area as one of the top seafood places.

Bethanne thanked him and ended the call, both puzzled and pleased. This wasn’t a date, but it was as close to one as she’d come in the last twenty-two years.

“Who was that?” Annie asked when Bethanne replaced the receiver.

For some reason, Bethanne was reluctant to explain. “An old friend,” she finally said.

“He wants to take you out?” Annie asked, as if this were beyond imagining.

“Do you think I shouldn’t go?” Bethanne instantly assumed she’d made a mistake in agreeing to meet Paul.

Annie shrugged. “I don’t know. Why ask me? Who’s the adult here, anyway?”

“You’re right,” Bethanne said. “I’m the adult and I’m meeting…an old friend.”

When it was time to leave, both Annie and Andrew were gone for the evening, so Bethanne propped a note for them on the kitchen counter, the way they did for her.

She had to find parking downtown, because she couldn’t afford the lot prices. Fortunately, she located a place three short blocks from the restaurant. When she walked toward Anthony’s, Paul Ormond was already there, standing outside waiting. He waved at her as she approached.

Paul was around thirty-five, she guessed, with dark hair and eyes, a pleasant face and a bit of a paunch. If she remembered correctly, he worked in the downtown area for an international shipping firm. He wore a suit and tie. Bethanne was surprised that the lovely Tiffany would have married such an ordinary-looking man. The impression she had of “Tiff” was of a status-conscious woman, to whom a husband’s appearance would be almost as important as her own.

“Thank you for coming,” Paul said as he opened the door to the restaurant. When he stepped forward and announced his name to the hostess, they were immediately seated.

They both ordered a glass of wine and Paul stared out the window at Puget Sound. “I imagine you’re wondering why I called you,” he said after several minutes of silence. Oddly, Bethanne didn’t feel uncomfortable, nor did she feel her usual urge to make small talk.

She nodded. “I was kind of curious. The divorces have been final for quite a while now.”

“It doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “I—” She started to tell Paul that Grant had refused to pay for Andrew’s football camp. It didn’t matter, she had to remind herself. It just didn’t matter.

“When did you find out about the affair?” he asked.

She was embarrassed to tell him the truth. “Not until Grant told me. You know how they say the wife’s always the last to know. What about you?”

“I knew almost from the first,” he said, “but I couldn’t make myself believe it.”

“How long were you and Tiffany married?”

“Six years,” he said. “Four good ones, at any rate. Then she met Grant.” He shook his head. “I think I guessed what was going on when she wanted to delay having a family.”

Bethanne knew from what Grant had told her that there were no other children involved. The whole thing was bad enough without hurting more innocents.

She took a sip from her glass of chardonnay, then another. “Annie told me this afternoon she thinks they’re getting married.”

Paul arched his eyebrows. “I suppose that’s inevitable.”

Although her appetite had vanished with talk of the affair, Bethanne opened the menu. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it,” she whispered.

“Please don’t say that,” Paul begged. “I was hoping, you know, that everything was better for you.”

“It is better,” she said valiantly, “it’s just that…I don’t feel it yet.” If being alone hurt this badly all these months after the divorce, she couldn’t imagine that pain would ever go away.

“Your husband and my wife were cheating on us,” he said with sudden anger. “So, why are we the ones feeling bad?”

It wasn’t fair. She was the injured party; Paul, too. While Grant and Tiffany were free of their responsibilities and probably partying every night, Bethanne was dealing with children whose security had been shattered, an aging house and more emotional pain than any one person should be expected to bear.

“I told myself they have to live with what they’ve done,” Paul said, “but that’s little comfort.”

“It’s no comfort.”

Paul opened his menu, too. “I was thinking—”

“Do you mind if we don’t talk about the divorce?” Bethanne asked abruptly. “We’re supposed to be getting on with our lives. Let’s order dinner, okay?”

Paul nodded. “Have you decided what you want?”

“Just an appetizer. The smoked salmon, I think. And maybe a cup of chowder.”

He called over the waiter and they placed their orders, with Paul choosing the chowder and a small dish of seafood pasta. “So, are you?” he asked. “Getting on with your life, I mean.”