Dovetail(47)

“So now you have the rest of the day off?” Kathleen asked.

“Believe me, there’s plenty of work waiting for me,” Joe said. “But I do have time to take my new friend out to lunch, if she’s agreeable.”

“You mean me?” Kathleen asked, and immediately wanted to bite her tongue. Of course he meant her.

“If you can spare the time. There’s a pretty cool-looking restaurant about two blocks down the street. The Pine Cone Family Restaurant. Rumor has it that the pie is to die for. Don’t worry, just because they call it a family restaurant, you’re not obligated to bring your family. Friends are allowed. I checked.”

“That’s good to know,” she replied good-naturedly. “I can’t leave just yet, but Marcia should be here soon. How about I meet you there at twelve thirty?”

“Works for me,” he said. “Do you need directions for the Pine Cone?” His tone was teasing. “I can map it if you want.”

“Trust me, I can find it.”



At twelve twenty, Kathleen was out the door, heading down the sidewalk. She felt her mood lighten with every step and fought to keep from grinning. The words I have a friend came to mind, and the thought made her ridiculously happy. She’d had friends before, of course. Most of them had fallen by the wayside once Ricky came into the picture. He liked having her to himself, and when they’d moved away from her hometown, keeping up with other people became troublesome. Writing letters was unsatisfying, and Ricky blew a gasket when he saw long-distance calls on the phone bill, so she rarely made them and kept it short when she did. Eventually, her friendships tapered off until all she had left was a handful of cards at Christmastime and occasional gossip passed on by her mother.

So many of her friends had moved on in their lives, their connections dwindling over time. Once she arrived in Pullman, she deliberately cut ties, not wanting to leave a trail that Ricky could follow. Did she have any friends at all? She and Marcia were friendly, but that was the extent of it. She wouldn’t say they were friends, exactly. Her interactions with others in town—her customers, neighbors, fellow store owners—were all warm and accessible. There were any number of people she could call in an emergency, but no one she could call just to go to lunch.

Maybe she was making too much of it. If she’d even made an effort, if she’d actually opened herself up to other people, perhaps she’d have friends already. It was just hard to do because once you opened the door, you never knew who might walk in. That was the scary part. Once bitten, twice shy.

She had a good feeling about Joe, though, and she definitely could use a friend, even if it was just for the summer. And if he tried to step over the friend line, she was prepared to push him right back.

Walking through the door at the restaurant, she spotted Joe sitting in one of the booths alongside the front window, his cap on the table in front of him. He waved, his face lighting up at the sight of her. She slid into the seat opposite him. “Am I late?”

He glanced at his watch. “You are right on time, but even if you were late, it would have been fine, because I’ve been reading about the history of the Pine Cone.” He tapped the back of the shiny menu as his eyes met hers. “Fascinating.”

“You enjoy reading, then?”

“I’ve become quite the reader lately. You see, I have no choice. My grandmother’s house does not have a television.”

“Wow, such a hardship,” she said, her tone mocking. “How can you stand it?”

He inclined his head as if thinking. “Sometimes I act out the shows I can remember. Yesterday I was both Laverne and Shirley. If you want to stop by sometime, I would let you be Squiggy.”

“This friendship with you just gives and gives and gives, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, believe me, we’re just getting started.”

The waitress came with her pad at the ready. Luckily, Kathleen was familiar with the menu and could order on the spot. Joe too was able to rattle off his order. She was struck by how easy it was to spend time with him. They quickly filled each other in on the basics of their lives—hometown, siblings, school years—almost as if to get that out of the way so they could begin really talking. There were no awkward pauses, no intrusive questions; she didn’t get the sense that he was pushing for anything beyond her comfort zone. He teased her as if they’d been friends their whole lives. The two of them together were a fit. Right as rain, Aunt Edna would have said.

Joe made her laugh, which was no small thing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that way, continuous mirth, making it hard to breathe. He was especially fascinated by the waitress, a serious battleship of a woman named Doris. He said his new personal goal was to make her smile. “There’s gotta be a way.”

“Believe me, it’s not going to happen,” Kathleen said. She’d eaten at the Pine Cone several times and knew Doris was not to be trifled with. She didn’t own the place but thought she did, barking out orders to the cooks and keeping unruly teenage customers in line. Running a restaurant was no joke, and smiling was fine for other people, but not for Doris. “It may not actually be possible for her lips to move upward. I’m just saying you might be setting your sights too high.”

“We’ll see about that,” Joe said. “I’ve got the rest of the summer to wear her down.”