She laughed. “So I took my miniscule divorce settlement, swallowed my pride and came back home to Point Cairn. And here we are.”
But Connor knew that wasn’t the end of the story. His eyes narrowed on her. “Did he hurt you?”
“Physically?” She hesitated. “Not really.” Then she added, “To be honest, he didn’t care much for anything physical. He preferred to demoralize me mentally and emotionally.”
Connor leaned forward. “We can change the subject, Maggie.”
“No,” she insisted, waving her fork back and forth. “I want to talk about it, because I never got to. Except to a therapist and that wasn’t very satisfying. I thought when I came home, I would have my old girlfriends around to help me hash things out and get rid of those old feelings. But the girls weren’t exactly happy to see me show up again.”
Understanding dawned. In the years after Maggie left town, all of their friends had rallied around him and turned Maggie into the bad guy. Connor had never tried to change their opinions of Maggie because that’s what he had thought, too. “That’s why you ran in the other direction when you saw Sarah and the others.”
She smiled tightly. “Pretty much.”
“Jeez, Maggie, you’ve had a rough time of it.”
“Oh, please, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She airily brushed away his concern but then began to laugh at herself. “Okay, yeah. It was really bad there for a while. Grandpa’s goats became my best friends.”
Connor chuckled as he poured the last of the wine into their glasses. “So you didn’t have your girlfriends to hash things out with, but you’ve got me. I’m here. I’ll help you get through it all. Tell me everything you went through with this clown Ashcroft.”
She beamed a hopeful smile at him. “Really?”
“Come on.” He gestured with his hand. “Come on, tell me the rest of it.”
“Where shall I start?” She inhaled deeply, then said in a rush, “Okay. Well, he bought all my clothes for me.”
“Hmm.” Connor frowned. “I guess that’s…nice?”
Her lips twisted sardonically. “Believe me, he didn’t do it to be nice.”
“Oh, right. That jerk.” He took a sip of wine before advancing on the topic. “So…what kind of stuff did he make you wear?”
She laughed. “Probably not what you’re thinking. No spandex or anything. He wanted me to be seen in expensive classics, knits and wools, sweater sets, a lot of plaids, skirts, shirtdresses, sensible shoes, pearls. Nothing garish or low class, like blue jeans or boots.”
“Idiot.”
“Thank you! You make a really good girlfriend.”
They both laughed, and then Connor said, “Did you work during your marriage?” He struggled to get that last word out.
“Work?” Her laugh was a soft trill. “No. I couldn’t work.”
He nodded. “No jobs available?”
“Oh, I suppose there were jobs, but I had no skills.”