A Better Man(24)
The meeting with Jordan had stolen another dose of her usual oomph. She'd expected nothing to get resolved. But he'd fooled her and stolen a little bit of her heart because he really seemed concerned about his sister's well-­being. It was hard not to like a man who wanted to put his own needs aside and champion a young girl. Lucy wished she'd had someone like that when she'd been growing up. Heck, she wouldn't have minded a champion when she got older either.
And then he'd pulled the ultimate surprise.
He'd apologized for graduation night.
Yes, it might have come fifteen years late. But the part that had made her heart melt had been that it seemed important to him to apologize and explain fifteen years later. If you had asked her a week ago if she'd ever see that apology, she'd have laughed. Jordan Kincade-­badass to the bone-­didn't appear to be the kind of man to apologize for anything. And that gave her no choice but to accept it and move forward.
The final kicker in her energy boost had been the PTA meeting to organize the school carnival. As usual, when they asked for committee volunteers Lucy's hand grew a helium balloon. Since she was a single woman, everyone thought she had more time on her hands than those with families. And while maybe she did, she didn't want to be the appointed loser who always volunteered because others felt she had nothing important going on in her life.
As she parked her car in the driveway, she knew she had one more mission before she could call it a day and kick off her Keds. With next week off for spring break, she planned to do some heavy relaxing, reading, and catnapping.
She walked across her next-­door neighbor's lawn and knocked on the door of the pretty little Craftsman-­style house. The large front porch displayed an array of potted flowers and hanging fuchsias. In the corner sat a white wicker rocking chair with a cute little side table large enough for a pitcher of lemonade and several glasses.
The door creaked open and Mrs. Benner stood in the opening wearing her quilted robe, one blue house slipper, and one purple.
"Hello, dear."
"Mrs. B, you're supposed to look through the peephole before you answer the door. Remember?"
"I am?" Her steel gray brows pulled together over a pair of hazel eyes that didn't focus as well as they used to.
"Yes. We need you to stay safe."
"Oh. Well, I've got that covered. Chuck Norris keeps an eye out for me."
Chuck Norris was Mrs. B's twenty-­pound cat who snored and wouldn't lift his head off the sofa unless a can of cat food was involved.
"Yes, I'm sure Chuck has iron paws. But I still need you to look first. Just in case."
"Okey-­dokey."
Lucy sighed, knowing the eighty-­year-­old would most likely forget. Her mind, like her eyesight, wasn't what it used to be. Though the memory lapses mostly came on bad days when her arthritis was-­as Mrs. B called it-­kicking up. And because Mrs. B wanted to maintain her independence for as long as possible, Lucy had promised the older woman's daughter and son that she'd keep an eye on her. A promise that often included shopping, errands, and doctor visits. But Lucy didn't mind. Mrs. B was a sweet woman and Lucy respected her desire to remain independent.
"I thought I'd check in with you before I turned in for the night," Lucy said. "Do you need anything?"
"I could stand to knock a couple of years off my life so I can go dancing again."
Lucy gave her a sympathetic smile. A few years ago Mrs. B had belonged to the Blue Hair Hoofers, a dance group made up of women over the age of seventy. They performed for charity events and private parties, and Lucy knew Mrs. B missed that part of her life a great deal.
"I wish I could," Lucy said. "In the meantime, do you have enough food in the refrigerator to get you through until we shop on Sunday?"
"Well, if I don't, I'm sure Chuck will share," she joked. Hopefully.
"I planned to make some homemade soup tomorrow. I'll bring you over some."
"Oh, that would be lovely, dear."
Lucy gave the woman a hug. She'd stop by in the morning before she went to school to double-­check. Otherwise she'd worry all day. "Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okey-­dokey."
Mrs. B shut the door and Lucy waited for the lock to click. When it didn't she knocked on the door again. And again Mrs. B answered without looking through the peephole.
"Hello, dear."
"Mrs. B, you need to lock your door when you close it."