Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(16)

“The last frontier,” I murmur. “Of course, we won’t move. Well, I won’t. Would you?”

“Nah. You know…too much effort, I guess. Plus, I have a good job and all.”

“Right.” Chantal works in the town hall as a secretary, one of four employees there. She knows everyone’s business and is free with her gossip.

“Hey, I went to church this morning,” Chantal says with a sly smile. Like a lot of local women under the age of one hundred and four, she’s going to church again. “And guess what?” Chantal continued. “I joined the bereavement group.”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Chantal…”

“For widows and widowers, you know. There was an announcement in the bulletin.” Chantal adjusts her shirt so that more of her impressive cle**age shows. Conversation at the bar stops briefly as the men admire the show. Another inch and they’d be able to nurse.

“And how long have you been a widow?” I ask.

“Oh, gosh…twenty years, I guess. I was eighteen when we got married, nineteen when he died.”

Chantal mentioned once, when we first starting hanging out, that she was widowed ages ago. It’s strange to think that Chantal was married; she’s only six years older than I am but has been a widow more than half her life. “What was his name, your husband?” I ask.

“Chris. Cute guy.”

“That must have been really hard,” I say.

“It sucked,” she answers. “At least we didn’t have kids.”

“Did you want to?”

“Oh, shit, no. No, Maggie, I’m not the motherly type.” She laughs and takes a swig of her drink, emptying the glass.

“So you’re suddenly seeking the solace of a grief group?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I guess I’d rather sit there and have Father Tim comfort me than sit at home, scratching my ass,” she says cheerfully. “He gives great hugs. He must lift weights or something.”

I am simultaneously jealous and irritated with my own hypocrisy. Chantal has joined a church group in order to be near Father Tim. Sounds familiar. I picture Father Tim patting my hand, looking sorrowfully and deeply into my eyes as I detail the terrible loss. “Bereavement group. You’re so lucky,” I say without thinking, then blush. “Sorry, Chantal. That didn’t come out right.”

“Well, I’m pretty lucky,” she says, shrugging. “Hey, Paul, can we get another round?”

Dewey nearly soils himself in his haste to get close to Chantal again. “Sorry, what did you say?” he says, staring down her blouse. Chantal smiles and arches her back. I roll my eyes, feeling very flat-chested indeed, my plain little 34-Bs nothing compared to the bounty that Chantal is offering. Dewey licks his lips. My teeth clench.

“Another round, honey. Maybe on the house, what do you say? For your favorite girls?” Chantal tucks a finger into her shirt and pulls it just a fraction lower.

“Sure,” Dewey whispers.

“Chantal! Stop,” I say. I’m blushing, even if she’s not. Paul walks in a trance back to the bar. “I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, Paul,” she says, as if he carries that high-end stuff.

“Burnett’s okay?” he calls back.

“Sure, baby.” Preening, she turns her attention back to me.

“Nice floor show,” I comment.

“We’re drinking for free, aren’t we?” she says smugly. “What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, my husband.”

Jonah comes in and does a double take when he sees Chantal. She smiles back at him. In order to distract Chantal from undressing my baby brother with her eyes, I ask, “So, did you love him?”

“Who? Oh, Chris? Sure. I guess. I mean, we were teenagers. Screwed our brains out, I’ll say that.”

“God, that’s so romantic,” I say, unable to suppress a smile. “I think Hallmark has a line of cards like that. ‘I miss screwing your brains out, my darling departed husband.”

Chantal laughs her big, rolling laugh. “‘Baby, no one did me like you.’ There’s probably a market for that. Should look into it.” She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I go up to the bar to say hi to Jonah, despite the fact that it’s been mere hours since we last saw each other.

“Hi,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Mags. Nothing. How about you?” he says amiably.

“Hanging out.”

“Is it okay if I come over to watch TV tomorrow night?” Jonah asks. “There’s that crabbing show on Discovery. Looked cool.”

“Sure.” I own one of the few satellite dishes in town. The cable service frequently goes out way up here, and as a single woman, well, let’s face it. I watch a lot of TV.

Chantal returns. “Jonah! My, how you’ve grown,” she purrs.

My earlier amusement at her antics evaporates. Even though Jonah is a grown man (officially, anyway), I don’t want him decimated by a man-eater like Chantal. “Chantal, stop. Not my brother. Leave Jonah alone.”

“No, no, no. Chantal, stay. Don’t leave Jonah alone,” Jonah says, grinning. “Hey, Chantal, you know anyone Maggie here could date? We’re trawling for men who will go out with her.”