1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [55]
With a sigh, she went into the house and found Tanni’s scribbled note on the kitchen chalkboard. “With Kristen. Home before six.”
It was only three now. Her arms around her middle, she sank into a chair, feeling sorry for herself.
“This is ridiculous,” she said aloud. She’d met and married a good man—an artist like herself, whose work she admired. Instead of brooding about the empty weeks ahead, she should be counting her blessings.
She picked up the phone and called Miranda. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Cleaning house,” Miranda said. “Somebody stop me.”
“Okay, stop. I need your help.”
“Larry’s gone?”
“Yup. I’m fighting off depression. I can’t do it alone. Want to come over and eat ice cream and watch a bunch of romantic movies with me?”
“I’d love to.” Her friend didn’t hesitate. “Do you have butter pecan or do I need to go to the store on my way?”
“Let me check.” Shirley walked to the fridge and opened the freezer section. “I’ve got vanilla and…” She shuffled aside two frozen halibut filets, a microwave dinner and a box of peas. “Nope, that’s it.”
“I’ll make an ice cream run,” Miranda said. “It’ll take me…forty minutes. Can you survive that long?”
“Forty I can do. Forty-five would be a stretch.”
“I’ll tell the grocery clerk this is an emergency and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Before she hung up, Shirley managed a smile. Miranda was a good friend and she was grateful for her willingness to drop everything and come to her rescue.
When Miranda arrived with three flavors of ice cream, Shirley had unpacked her suitcase, started a load of laundry and set out bowls and spoons. A selection of DVDs was stacked and ready. After sorting through her favorite romantic movies, she’d chosen The African Queen, French Kiss, Romancing the Stone and The Princess Bride.
Miranda decided they should watch French Kiss first. Shirley slipped it into the DVD player while her friend dished up their treats. They both sat on the sofa, eating slowly. “I love this movie,” Shirley mumbled through a mouthful of melting ice cream.
“Me, too,” Miranda said dreamily.
Given Miranda’s often brusque manner, few would guess she was such a romantic. Shirley knew otherwise. The contrast between her no-nonsense exterior and her warm, sensitive heart was one of the interesting things about her.
Shirley didn’t know anyone, not even Olivia, who could cut Will Jefferson down to size as effectively as her friend. She’d been observing the bickering and one-upsmanship between the two of them for months. They argued like a long-married couple, and Shirley was convinced they both enjoyed it. That style of interaction wasn’t for her, but it worked for some couples.
“Guess what I got in the mail,” Shirley said.
“Anything good? A prize from Publishers Clearing House?”
“Better. A card from your employer.”
Miranda put her bowl of ice cream on the coffee table, sat up straight and paused the movie. “Will sent you a wedding card?”
“He sure did.”
“Will? Will Jefferson? Are you joking?”
“He isn’t so bad, you know,” Shirley said. “Beneath all that bravado, he’s a nice guy.”
Miranda frowned, shaking her head. “He’s completely wrapped up in himself. His ego is so big I can’t imagine how he fits it through the door.”
Shirley laughed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Aren’t you exaggerating?”
“You don’t work with him. I do. I’ve seen him at his worst.”
“And his best,” Shirley added.
Miranda wasn’t giving in that easily. “You go ahead and believe what you like, but I know the real Will Jefferson.”
Shirley got up from the sofa and retrieved the wedding card, which she handed to her friend.
Miranda read Will’s message, then closed the card and looked up at Shirley.
“Well?”
“He’s good with words,” Miranda reluctantly admitted. “He even sounds gracious.”
“Don’t act so surprised.” The congratulatory note had felt authentic to Shirley. Will had wished her and Larry happiness and claimed he was proud to have played a role in bringing them together.
“He can be sincere,” Miranda said, still with some reluctance.
Shirley agreed.