Pitch Imperfect(53)
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Damien said, twirling her again. “So, Mrs. Mackenzie Scott thinks I’m no good, huh? No doubt due to a few mistakes I made when I first moved here. Is she very religious?”
“Church every week and she teaches Sunday school, but she’s not a fanatic. She’s the only person I know who got married at eighteen and is still madly in love with her husband.”
Damien frowned. “And where is Craig tonight? Mrs. Scott has only danced with Rob and Councillor Hamish. The rest of the time she’s been staring at her phone.”
“Why don’t you go find out while I get some fresh air?”
“She doesn’t like me, remember?”
Anjuli lifted her brows mockingly. “A case of the cowardly lion?”
When Mac saw Damien approach and Anjuli change direction she beckoned effusively, making it impossible for her to bypass the table. Sarah was nowhere to be seen.
Mac greeted Damien politely but didn’t ask him to sit. With a roughish look, he pulled out a chair and sat next to her. Reluctantly, Anjuli took the seat on her other side.
Mac shifted away from Damien. “What’s been keeping you too busy to return my calls?”
My sister is having your husband’s child. “Sanding door frames and stripping wallpaper.” True, but she now had another person for her tally of people she hated lying to.
Mac looked at her watch. “We need to have a proper catch up—soon. But I have to call a cab. Craig’s mum is babysitting and she won’t sleep properly until I get back.”
“Is your husband away?” Damien said.
Her expression iced over. “Craig is coming home on Monday morning.” She turned to Anjuli. “Via Castle Manor, in fact. He still has the paint samples I promised you in his boot so he can drop them off.”
“Please tell him not to bother. Really...don’t put yourselves out.”
“Nonsense, what are friends for? I’ll help you paint when the time comes, too. Rob told me you’re into DIY now, though he doesn’t seem to think you enjoy it.”
He talked about her to Mac? What else did he say? Did he suspect the truth about her bank balance? Anjuli fanned herself with her hand. She couldn’t ask Mac about Rob and she couldn’t continue talking to her as if Ash hadn’t slept with Craig. “I need some air, my face feels like an electric hob.”
“You look beautiful,” Mac said sincerely.
Damien lost his usual flirtatiousness. “So do you, Mrs. Scott.”
Mac sniffed and rolled her eyes at Anjuli as if to say “see what I mean?” “Kissing the Blarney stone, Dr. Mitchell?”
“I meant what I said,” he insisted. “And as for kissing...” Damien waggled his brows at Anjuli. “There’s other things I’d rather kiss.”
Mac drew her brows down, her expression so much like Rob’s that Anjuli had to look away. The only thing more unnerving would be if Ben showed up. She hadn’t seen him since her return to Heaverlock and she dreaded bumping into him. Not that he would be rude. No, never that. It would be worse. He would be perfectly polite and all the while she’d feel those ice-blue eyes mentally ripping her to shreds.
Councillor Hamish tapped the microphone and Anjuli noticed Mrs. P. standing next to him, staring straight at her. Anxiety twisted Anjuli’s gut. How could she have forgotten? A ceilidh in Heaverlock always included local talent, like the high school student walking up to the stage with his fiddle. Unfortunately, people at the surrounding tables weren’t looking at the teenager. They were looking at her, murmuring expectantly. An excited buzz worked its way around the room like a Mexican wave and when it reached Anjuli, she jumped up.
“I really do need some air. No, don’t get up, Damien. I’ll only be a few minutes. Stay and talk to Mac.”
“I’ll give Mrs. Scott a ride home and come back for you,” he said, insisting when Mac declined.
Anjuli kissed his cheek and whispered, “Tell her about the charity marathon you did for Save the Children and the homeless bunny you adopted.”
“It was a spider, and my cat tortured it to death.”
* * *
The May night was moonless, with nothing other than the stars to guide Anjuli around the back of the Town Hall except her memory. Five, six, ten paces and then a left turn and she found the dirt path that led to a pine copse. A narrow track cut a line through the trees to the fence that separated the wood from the moors beyond. The hills looked empty, dark, and as endless as sky. Anjuli leaned against the fence and looked into the Milky Way, vast and distant.
Hypnotic.
The smell of pine and heather settled her roiling stomach and the faint breeze eased the heat from her face. Silence amplified her conflicted thoughts. Would she ever feel a part of Heaverlock again or would she always feel like an outsider? Could she find joy in her life in spite of what she had done?