Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(79)

“You would retire?”

“Again.” He laughed. “I retired the first time at the age of fifty and, after twenty years at the university, I could retire again. There are so many young professors who’d love to see a tenured old goat like me leave an opening for them.”

“And before you were a teacher?”

“A Presbyterian minister,” he said.

“Oh! You’re joking!” she said.

“I’m afraid it’s the truth.”

“I’m Catholic!”

He laughed. “How nice for you.”

“You’re making fun of me,” she accused.

“I’m making fun of your shock,” he said. “Don’t you have any non-Catholic friends?”

“Of course. Many. But—”

“Because I have quite a few Catholic friends. And Jewish and Mormon and other faiths. I used to play golf with a priest friend every Thursday afternoon for years. I had to quit. He was a cheat.”

“He was not!”

“You’re right, he wasn’t. I just threw that in there to see if I could rile you up. No one riles quite as beautifully as a redhead. Actually, he was transferred to a new parish. I hear from him once in a while. We used to have the best time with those minister-rabbi-priest jokes. We were in search of a golfing rabbi for a long time. We never did find one.”

“You don’t take things very seriously, do you?” she asked.

“Not as much now as I did when I was younger. I’m proud of that, by the way. So, what do you say we pick a night for dinner?”

“Have you ever been married?” she asked.

“You asked that before. Twice,” he said. “Does that disqualify me as a dinner companion?”

Truthfully, she’d been too rattled to pay attention to his answer. “Are you a widower?”

“Yes. My second wife died of cancer a few years ago. You’d have liked her—she was such a lovely, funny woman. My first wife is alive and well. She left me over thirty-five years ago. You wouldn’t have liked her at all. Hardly anyone did. Does.” He frowned and shook his head. “Really, she was one of the most difficult women I’ve ever known. Beautiful, however. Very beautiful. But very…Oh, never mind. I thought I was long past complaining about her.”

“Divorced?” she said. “A divorced minister?”

“You’d be amazed at how many real-life issues priests, ministers and rabbis deal with in their own lives. Now…”

“You know, you’re a peculiar man,” she said. “Why would you want to have dinner with me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said. “You’re a striking woman with a strong and entertaining personality. In fact, you’re even more entertaining today. What a lot of funny questions and concerns you seem to have. Does the Catholic church have some sort of punishment for parishioners who date out of the faith?”

“Don’t be glib,” she said. “I’m old school. When I was growing up, one didn’t even contemplate a date outside the faith. Of course, attending an all girls’ Catholic school pretty much ensured that. Besides, I wasn’t an ordinary Catholic. I was, for a short time, a novitiate.”

“Well, now.” He grinned.

“Well, now, what?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Very devout, are you? Then it turns out we have more in common than we have at odds.” He grinned. “I, for one, am glad that didn’t work out, but it certainly explains how you can seem so sophisticated on one hand and so old-fashioned on the other. Want to think about that invitation a while longer?”

She sighed deeply. “I like to spend whatever afternoons and evenings I can with my newly found granddaughter. Obviously I can’t spend every evening with her. That gets in the way of my son having quality time with Rosie and her mother. But—”

“Ah. But you like to keep evenings open for her. Understandable. How about a nice, leisurely lunch? How does that sound?”

“Lunch shouldn’t be out of the question,” she said, surprising herself.

“Bravo! Tomorrow?”

“What about your work on this house?”

“I imagine I’ll be spending plenty of time on this old house,” George said. “I’m planning to stay through Thanksgiving. And, besides, a man has to be well-rounded. All work and no play is no good, you know.”

“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Now, may I at least call you Maureen? Or do I have to continue with this Mrs. Riordan business forever? It makes it seem like I’m trying to get a date with a married woman!”

She laughed in spite of herself. “My sons are going to be flabbergasted.”

“Why?”

“You might as well know the truth. I haven’t been out with a man since my husband died. And, in fact, I hadn’t been out with many before I met him.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all, Maureen. I haven’t run into a woman as difficult to get a date with as you. We’re going to have a good time, you and me.” And then he smiled at her.

Maureen had no idea how many people George Davenport told that they were having lunch together, but she saw no need to mention it to anyone. She told herself she wasn’t keeping a secret, just not making an issue. The real truth was that she couldn’t bear to answer any questions—before or after the lunch. She was nervous, excited, a little frightened, afraid of disappointment…and even more afraid of not being disappointed. All morning while she tidied up Vivian’s small house and got ready for George to pick her up, her stomach was in flutters and she went over possible scenarios in her mind. What if he came on too strong? Or made a pass? Or tried to kiss her? Or worse—what if it turned out he was a terrible bore and she never wanted to see him again, for lunch or anything else?