“I know you shouldn’t. ” He edged it back toward her. “That’s why it’s just a club soda with a twist. ”
She inhaled, the knot in her chest easing a bit. A club soda with a twist sounded perfect right about then. “How’d you guess?”
“You were wearing a hole in the table, spinning your wineglass all around. Thought you could shift that nervous energy to a nice cocktail straw instead. ”
“I’m not nervous. ” Did she really appear nervous? And how’d he known?
“You’re the boss. ” He gave her a mysterious smile. But he didn’t leave, and he didn’t sit down either.
Why didn’t he just sit down? She narrowed her eyes on him. “If anything’s making me nervous, it’s you hovering over me. ”
“If I’m hovering,” Sully said, “it’s because you haven’t invited me to join you. ”
Would Sully really join her if she asked, or was he just ribbing her? Did she want him to join her? Why was he being friendly? He couldn’t be interested in her, could he?
She dismissed the possibility at once. A man like Tom Sullivan would attract someone saucier and wilder. An older, big-bosomed version of that attractive bartender they had. She wouldn’t be his type.
Not that she knew who he ran around with—she’d never heard that sort of gossip about him. The only rumors about Tom Sullivan were about his past, how he’d come back from Vietnam a changed man and had spent years on the road like something out of Easy Rider. It was probably all romantic speculation.
“I’m meeting somebody,” she said. With a subtle shift of her shirtsleeve, she checked the time again. She needed a rich man, not someone who flipped burgers for a living. A wealthy retiree who’d buy her a sedan. A silver fox. She was in search of a classy boyfriend. Not someone who rode around on a motorcycle, looking too young for his age.
Tom didn’t get the hint. “Seems he’s late. ”
Marlene bristled at that. Even though it was true, it was a presumptuous thing to say. She took in his tight, white cook’s T-shirt, the Army infantry tattoo on his forearm. He sure did look strong. Not a silver fox at all, but vital and vigorous. And when had she started thinking of him as Tom? She took a sip of that bubbly water.
His tattoo put a thought into her head. She was anxious to change the subject anyway. “They say you went to war. ”
“So I did,” he replied, his tone wary.
The pain that flickered across his face told her to tread carefully. “Would you talk to my grandson?” His face crumpled into something that looked highly skeptical, and she continued quickly, “He wants to enlist right out of high school. ”
His eyes narrowed, pinned on her. Goodness, but they were a dark and vivid blue, like indigo. It put her on the defensive.
“Don’t you get that look with me, Tom Sullivan. Hear me out. I had a cousin from my grandmother’s side who served—you should know that. You were here when we flew to Arlington to bury him, may he rest in peace, and if you don’t remember, you just need to listen to Ruby and Pearl for half a minute to hear his memory invoked. ” She grew half concerned that the wine had made her too emotional, but pressed on, anxious to be understood. “There’s nothing that’d make me prouder than to see Craig serve his country. But I get nervous that he doesn’t see that side of it. The service side. I’d love to see the boy shape up and put on a uniform, but for the right reasons. He doesn’t understand how seriously it should be approached. How hard he’ll need to work. I worry he thinks it’s just a chance for him to appear in one of his video games. ”
Sully was silent for long enough she began to worry. But finally he nodded. “I understand. Bring him by, Marlene. I’ll be happy to talk to the boy. ”
She unclenched something she hadn’t realized she’d clenched. “Thank you, Tom. ”
A gust of wind blew in as the door opened. Sully looked up and that stony look was back in his eyes.
“It’s not right,” he muttered. His dark blue eyes locked with hers. “This date of yours had better pay. I see him try any nonsense like splitting the check, I might need to come back over. ”
Marlene felt her cheeks blush. And Good Lord, when was the last time she’d blushed?
Ten
“Sorrow!” she heard her mom call from the hallway a moment before she appeared in the doorway of the laundry room.
Mom had that tone—the one that told Sorrow she was going to be assigned another duty she didn’t want. Whatever it was, it had to be better than ironing linens. She hated ironing.
“Did you hear me, Sorrow?” Her mother had a white-knuckle grip on her purse, and that alone had her putting down the iron. Her mom never looked that tense. “I need you to call your friend again. ”
“Who? You mean Damien?”
Edith nodded. “The road is closed. I thought he could make some calls. Get it plowed. ”
“Wait, our road is closed?” The lodge was on Irish Camp Road, an old mining road off Route 88. It wasn’t exactly a major thoroughfare, but it wasn’t a small street either. “I’m sure it was plowed hours ago. Why would Caltrans close it?”