seven o’clock, he was worried. A thousand possibilities crowded his mind, none of them pleasant. He paced the living room in an effort to convince himself he was overreacting, then dialed her number one last time. He listened to her recording yet again, and seethed anxiously during the long beep.
“Jamie, where the hell are you?” he demanded.
Six
Jamie checked her watch, keeping her wrist below the table, hoping she wasn’t being obvious. Eight-thirty! She’d been trapped listening to the endless details of Floyd Bacon’s divorce for three solid hours.
“Don’t you agree?” he asked, looking over at her.
She nodded, although she had no idea what she was agreeing to. A yawn came and she attempted to swallow it, didn’t succeed and tactfully pressed her fingers to her lips. Floyd was such a nice man and she was trying hard to disguise her boredom.
“My goodness, look at the time,” Floyd said.
It had all started so innocently.
Jamie had dated Floyd about five years ago. He was a regular customer at the bank and they’d seen each other off and on for a six-month period. Nothing serious, nothing even close to serious. Then he’d met Carolyn and the two of them had fallen in love and married. Jamie had attended their wedding. She remembered what she bought them for a wedding gift—a set of stainless steel flatware with rosebuds on the handles. He and Carolyn had bought a house a few months later. Jamie had handled the loan application for them, but when they’d moved, they’d switched their account to a branch closer to where they lived. In the past three years, Carolyn had quit work to stay home with their two young children.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am the marriage didn’t work out,” Jamie said, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong between two people who so obviously loved each other. She would never have suspected this would happen to Floyd and Carolyn, of all people. Of all couples.
“I’m sorry, too,” Floyd said. His dark eyes touched her with their sadness. He’d moved into an apartment and had stopped at the bank to open a checking account. But a new account was only a pretext, Jamie soon learned; for airing his frustration with Carolyn, his marriage, his two preschool children and life in general.
Floyd had arrived just before closing time, lingered until he was the last customer in the bank and then asked Jamie to join him for a drink. She’d hesitated, but he’d looked so downtrodden and miserable that she’d gone against her better judgment. A drink soon turned into two and then Floyd suggested they have something to eat. At the time, it had seemed reasonable, but that was an hour and a half ago.
“I really should be going home,” she said, reaching for her purse. It was Friday night and the work week had seemed extra-long and she was tired. Keeping track of her temperature and charting it was draining her emotional energy.
No, she decided, talking to Rich every morning was responsible for that. Speaking to him first thing, discussing the intimate details of her reproductive system, hearing his enthusiasm … talking about their child. Nothing had prepared her for the effect all this was having. She lived for those brief two-minute calls. It was almost as if he were in bed beside her … almost as if he were holding her in his arms. This closeness she felt toward him frightened her. The magnitude of what they’d done, of what they were planning, the child they’d conceive together, had brought subtle and not-so-subtle changes to their relationship.
Earlier in the day she’d hoped and planned to have a relaxing Friday night—to soak in a hot bath and cuddle up in bed with a good book. She might have given Rich a call and invited him over for dinner. There was a new recipe she wanted to try and he seemed to enjoy her home-cooked meals. She’d only seen him twice in the past month, and it didn’t seem enough.
“I’ll follow you home,” Floyd said, breaking into her thoughts. He tossed some money on the table for the waitress.
It would be too late to call Rich now. Tomorrow was her Saturday morning to work, but she could call him then and ask him over for dinner on either Saturday or Sunday. Friday nights were probably busy for him, so it wasn’t likely he would’ve been home anyway.
“Jamie?”
“I’m sorry. My mind was a million miles away. There’s no need for you to see me home, Floyd.”
“I know, but I’d feel better if I knew you got there safely.”
She nodded. Floyd really was a nice man, and she did feel sorry for him. If lending an ear had helped him, she shouldn’t complain. The time would come soon enough when she’d need a shoulder to cry on herself. Once the baby was born, she’d be filing for divorce. The thought was a cheerless one.
Jamie lived less than fifteen minutes from the bank and it was on Floyd’s way to his new apartment, so she didn’t object strongly when he insisted on following her.
When she pulled into her assigned parking space, he waited until she was out of her car. She waved to let him know she was safe and sound.
Floyd lowered his car window and said, “I appreciate being able to talk to you, Jamie. You’re a good friend to both Carolyn and me.”
“I’m happy if I was any help.”
The sadness returned to Floyd’s eyes. “I really love her, you know.”
Jamie nodded. She believed him. Divorce was usually so ugly and there was so much pain involved. Jamie had seen several of her friends traumatized by the breakup of their marriages.
“Are you sure you really want this divorce?” she asked impulsively. Surely if two people deeply loved each other, they could work something out, couldn’t they?
He shook his head. “I never did want a divorce. Carolyn’s the one who … well, you know.” His shoulders rose in a deep sigh.
“You’re sure about that?”
Floyd hesitated. “I’m pretty sure. When I told her I was moving out, she didn’t say a word to stop me. The way I figure it, if she really loved me, she would’ve asked me to stay.”
“What if she assumed that if you really loved her, you’d never want to move?”
Floyd stared at her. “You think that’s what she might’ve thought?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth asking, don’t you think?”
“Yeah … I do,” Floyd said, his voice revealing the first enthusiasm she’d heard all evening. He raised his car window, then quickly lowered it again. “Jamie?”
“Yes?” She was halfway toward the outside stairs that led to her second-floor condominium.
“Would you mind if I used your phone? My cell’s dead, and I’d like to give Carolyn a call to see if she wants to talk.”
“Sure.” Smiling, she opened her purse and took out her key. If she’d mentioned this earlier she thought wryly, she might’ve been home two hours ago.
Floyd parked his car, then hurried up the stairs with her. He resembled a young boy, he was so eager. She unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. Floyd immediately headed for her phone.
Jamie made herself scarce for a couple of minutes, going into her bedroom to remove her shoes. She hung up her jacket and eased her gray blouse from her waistband.
Before leaving her bedroom, she slipped her feet into her fuzzy open-toed slippers. Then she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the burner. As soon as Floyd was gone, she planned to relax with a cup of herbal tea.
“Carolyn agrees we should talk,” Floyd announced triumphantly as he replaced the telephone receiver. “She sounded pleased to hear from me. Do you think she’s lonely? I doubt it,” he answered his own question before Jamie had a chance. “Carolyn always did have lots of friends, and she isn’t one to sit home and cry in her soup, if you know