Rebecca got up and wandered to the bookshelves, looking for conversational diversions. There were a million diversions on the bookshelves. A collection of classical literature, thrillers, historical fiction and science fiction. She moved from row to row, trying to determine which one suited him best.
“They have a nice collection of Westerns here. McMurtry, Zane Gray. Do you like Westerns?”
He didn’t even look up. “No.”
Rebecca heaved a loud sigh, which, if he were a more sensitive type, would have been seen as a subtle rebuke. “Cup of cider?”
“With rum?” he asked hopefully, turning in her direction.
She scanned the table. “No, sorry.”
“I’ll pass.”
She poured a cup for herself, took a sip and then leaned gracefully against the old antique table. “Where did you come from?”
He looked at her closely. “Curious, aren’t you?”
“Simply making conversation. I love to talk to people, make new friends.”
“I don’t.”
A second couple wandered in. A tall, modelesque woman, with her very own Adirondack Ken, complete with red-wool plaid shirt. Of course, it took them less than a minute to find the mistletoe. Rebecca clocked it. After seven minutes of R-rated tongue action, Rebecca made discreet choking sounds.
The man met her eyes, and laughed.
“Nice weather we’re having. Warm enough for you?” she hollered to him.
The model pulled away from Ken, thankfully, and flashed a photogenic pout.
Rebecca wasn’t cowed. “Do I know you? Didn’t we do rehab together? Susie? Shirley? Or was it a ‘J’ name?”
The woman pulled at Ken’s hands and the two left the room, off in search of new and more unusual public displays of affection.
“Little punchy there, aren’t you?” the man asked. “I thought you’d be making new friends.”
“Very nice,” she answered, sounding punchy.
“Rehab, huh?”
“It just came out. Sorry.”
“You could’ve left the room.”
“So could you.”
“Maybe I like to watch,” he said, and Rebecca swallowed. Hard.
She met his eyes and shrugged. “Maybe I do, too.”
“Where’s your Romeo?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Why are you here alone? Somebody stand you up?”
“Christmas gift.”
“A solo pass to a couples joint? Does this person like you?”
“This isn’t a couples joint,” she insisted, just as another couple entered the room. Again.
Rebecca turned to the stranger, her face contorted with misery. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant. It was an accident. You have to believe me.”
The couple wheeled around and left. Problem solved.
“You an actress?” he asked, his arms folded over his chest. Somewhere along the way, she had moved from mouthy pest to curiosity. Progress. Definite progress.
“Seventeen years of watching General Hospital. I teach school. What about you?”
“I build things.”
“Big, officey things, or smaller, residential-type things?” she asked, curious. He looked like a builder. Probably drove a pickup. American made. Six-cylinder, possibly an extended bed. Nothing remotely sleek, or Italian. She really wanted to move him up on her scale, but he kept inserting barriers.
“Home renovation stuff. You teach really young kids, don’t you?”
She’d heard that tone before, the easy dismissal. “Why do you think that?”
“You’re too short.”
“It’s not nice to pick on a person’s shortcomings.”
“You said it, honey, not me.” He got up, walked around the room, pacing. A man who didn’t like being confined. No white-collar worker here.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“No,” he said, still pacing. “I’m not used to sitting. Don’t like all the holiday stuff.” As he walked in circles, the room grew smaller. She was about to ask him to stop, but then another couple strolled into the room. The woman was pretty enough, but the man was wearing a cashmere sweater, Burberry, four-ply, and would have rated an A-on the Eligibility Scale if he wasn’t wearing a redhead on his arm, too.
Crap. She’d been hoping for the Alaska Gold Rush, and instead she was stuck on the Love Boat.
Rebecca closed her eyes because this wasn’t the way Christmas was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to lose your job. You weren’t supposed to be alone. When she opened them again, she didn’t bother to be polite. “I’m sorry. This mistletoe is taken. Find a room of your own.”
The woman stared, slack-jawed. “I beg your pardon?”