Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [76]
“When will you be leaving?” Lindy asked, although Cait was sure she’d already told her friend more than once.
“The twenty-third.” For the past few years, Cait had used one week of her vacation at Christmas time, usually starting the weekend before.
But this year Paul was having a Christmas party and Cait didn’t want to miss that, so she’d booked her flight closer to the holiday.
The waitress came to take Lindy’s order and replenish the hot water for Cait’s tea. The instant she moved away from their booth, Lindy launched into a lengthy tirade about how she hated Christmas shopping and how busy the malls were this time of year. Cait stared at her, bewildered. It wasn’t like her friend to chat nonstop.
“Lindy,” she interrupted, “is something wrong?”
“Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?”
“I don’t know. You haven’t stopped talking for the last ten minutes.”
“I haven’t?” There was an abrupt, uncomfortable silence.
Cait decided it was her turn to say something. “I think I’ll wear my red velvet dress,” she mused.
“To dinner with Joe?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “To Paul’s Christmas party.”
Lindy sighed. “But what are you wearing tonight?”
The question took Cait by surprise. She didn’t consider this dinner with Joe a real date. He just wanted to talk over old times, which was fine with Cait as long as he behaved himself. Suddenly she frowned, then closed her eyes. “Martin’s a Methodist minister,” she said softly.
“Yes, I know,” Lindy reminded her. “I’ve known that since I first met you, which was what? Three years ago now.”
“Four last month.”
“So what does Martin’s occupation have to do with anything?” Lindy asked.
“Joe Rockwell can’t find out,” Cait whispered.
“I didn’t plan on telling him,” Lindy whispered back.
“I’ve got to make up some other occupation like…”
“Counselor,” Lindy suggested. “I’m curious, though. Why can’t you tell Joe about Martin?”
“Think about it!”
“I am thinking. I really doubt Joe would care one way or the other.”
“He might try to make something of it. You don’t know Joe like I do. He’d razz me about it all evening, claiming the marriage was valid. You know, because Martin really is a minister, and since Martin performed the ceremony, we must really be married—that kind of nonsense.”
“I didn’t think about that.”
But then, Lindy didn’t seem to be thinking much about anything lately. It was as if she was walking around in a perpetual daydream. Cait couldn’t remember Lindy’s ever being so scatterbrained. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess there was a man involved.
THREE
At ten to six, Cait was blow-drying her hair in a haphazard fashion, regretting that she’d ever had it cut. She was looking forward to this dinner date about as much as a trip to the dentist. All she wanted was to get it over with, come home and bury her head under a pillow while she sorted out how she was going to get Paul to notice her.
Restyling her hair hadn’t done the trick. Putting in extra hours at the office hadn’t impressed him, either. Cait was beginning to think she could stand on top of his desk naked and not attract his attention.
She walked into her compact living room and smoothed the bulky-knit sweater over her slim hips. She hadn’t dressed for the occasion, although the sweater was new and expensive. Gray wool slacks and a powder-blue turtleneck with a silver heart-shaped necklace dangling from her neck were about as dressy as she cared to get with someone like Joe. He’d probably be wearing cowboy boots and jeans, if not his hard hat and tool pouch.
Oh, yes, Cait had recognized his type when she’d first seen him. Joe Rockwell was a man’s man. He walked and talked macho. No doubt he drove a truck with tires so high off