wasn’t; he couldn’t be. So he couldn’t let Yolanda jump on an idea like that, or he’d never hear the end of it. And neither would Samantha, if the two women did end up having lunch together.
“So you’re glad to be footloose and single?” his sister asked.
“Of course.” He scanned his living room, which was cluttered with this morning’s newspaper, a copy of Golf Digest, an empty beer bottle he’d forgotten to take to the kitchen a couple of days ago, a golf scorecard he was rather proud of.
If Patrice were here, she’d be bitching about how messy he was. Not that he didn’t like a clean house; he wasn’t a slob. If he spilled something, he mopped it up. And he never let the trash pile up until things smelled rotten.
He just didn’t always pick up after himself. But he had a maid come in once a week, and she did the things he didn’t have the time or the inclination to do.
And she never complained.
“You don’t miss having a wife?” Yolanda asked.
“Why would I? I take my dirty clothes to the laundry, and my shirts come back starched the way I like them. I eat at my favorite restaurants, and for the most part, my house is clean. It’s easier that way.”
“But you’re also missing out on love and companionship.”
“I’m happy,” he told his sister. “You’ve never heard me complain.”
But he had to admit, at least to himself, that it wasn’t all that fun coming home to a dark, empty house.
Or sleeping alone in a king-size bed.
Odd, he thought. Before Samantha moved back home, he hadn’t given either much thought.
Chapter Four
The next morning, as Hector walked out to get the morning newspaper, he noticed quite a few of the neighbors had taken their recycling bins and their rubbish to the curb, which was a reminder that it was trash day.
Samantha hadn’t yet taken out hers, either. And the truck always came early.
Maybe she’d overslept. Or maybe she’d completely forgotten it was Thursday.
Hector hated to think of her struggling with the bins and cans, especially in her condition. So even though he’d made up his mind to put a little distance between them from now on, he would offer to take her garbage out to the street for her.
He carried the newspaper with him, strode to her stoop and rang the bell. When the door swung open, he braced himself to see her wearing a robe, her hair tousled from sleep. But she was dressed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a light green blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which made her look a bit younger than she had last night. A bit more vulnerable—and sad.
“Did you forget what day it is?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed. “No, I haven’t forgotten. But how did you know?”
“Because everyone else has already carried their garbage to the curb. I was just about to drag mine out and thought I’d offer to take yours, too.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice a gentle wisp. “You mean, it’s trash day.”
“What did you think I was talking about?”
“It’s.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, today was my mom’s birthday.”
Oh, crap. No wonder she seemed so down. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I guess this is going to be a tough day for you.”
“I don’t want it to be, so I’m going to drive out to the cemetery for a while this morning.” She gave a little shrug and went on to explain. “It seems like the right thing to do. Then I’m going to go shopping. I’d like to buy some wallpaper for the nursery, which will give me something else to think about for the rest of the day.”
In spite of his resolve to distance himself, he just couldn’t do it. Not today. Not when she would be thinking about her mother and realizing how alone she was. But her plan to focus on the baby, on the future, was a good one. In fact, he suspected that had been her reason for getting pregnant in the first place. She probably wanted to re-create a family for herself.
“My sister chose a jungle theme for her nursery,” he said, wanting to keep her mind on the baby instead of her mom. “You ought to see it. She and Chad had a lot of fun setting up everything.”
Great, he thought. He’d just tossed out a reminder that she didn’t have a husband, either.
“I’ll bet it’s really cute. I’m not sure what kind of theme I’d like. I’ve still got a lot of time to decide.”
He couldn’t help glancing at her belly, noting the size of the mound. She seemed to be even bigger today than she had been last night, although that was probably only a result of the clothing she’d chosen to wear. But still, he doubted that she had as much time to prepare for the baby as she thought she did—probably only a couple of months or so.
“If I find some prints that I like, I’ll probably bring them home and think about it. Maybe you can help me decide which one to use.”
Picking out baby stuff was the last thing he wanted to do, but under the circumstances, how could he tell her no? “Sure, I’ll do that. It sounds like fun.”
Fun? How lame was that comment? Hector wasn’t into shopping, unless it was at Home Depot. He could hang out there all day. But looking for wallpaper with baby ducks and chickens? It would be pure torture.
“You could go with me,” she said, “if you want.”
Shopping? No way. He could still remember the time Patrice had dragged him to the mall to look for living-room furniture. It had been a pain in the butt, and they’d had a big fight that had landed him on the sofa for two nights.
He forced a smile. “I would, but it’s a work day.”
“Oh, yeah.” She smiled wistfully. “I forgot.”
Probably because her late husband was so wealthy he hadn’t needed to work. It was a good reminder of the different lives they lived, the little they had in common.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to show me some samples,” he said. “I’ll be home after five tonight.”
She nodded and offered him a smile that made him feel like some kind of hero, when he felt like everything but.
So he nodded toward the road. “If you’ll open your garage, I’ll carry your trash to the curb.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that now.”
Samantha went back into the house, and before long, the garage-door opener sounded. Moments later, she was showing him where she kept the recycle bins.
“The trash cans are on the side of the house,” she said. “But there’s just one, and it’s only half-full.”
He noticed a large number of boxes that had been lined along the east wall of the garage. Each was marked Salvation Army. “I see you’re recycling clothes and things, too.”
“Those were Peter’s. I decided it was time to get rid of them. I’d like to see someone else get some use out of them.”
The guy had always been impeccably dressed, so someone looking for secondhand clothing was going to get a heck of a bargain.
Still, he was happy to see she’d cleaned out the closets. That had to be a sign that she’d moved on.
Or maybe she was only trying to get over her husband and start anew. Maybe moving on was more of an effort than a reality.
He stole another glance at Samantha, saw her willowy shape, as well as a whisper of sadness in her eyes. Again he was