Sweet Anger(45)

It was peaceful. That was what she needed.

She sat now on the deck at the back of the house and watched the sun sink behind the peaks. The snow at the summit glistened brightly, then took on a pink hue as the sun slipped behind the mountain.

She had been here for over two months. The year anniversary of Thomas’s death had slipped by unnoticed by everyone but her. She hadn’t been unusually sad that day. A year’s time had blunted the serrated edges of the pain. What saddened her most was that he wasn’t as clear in her memory as he once had been. No longer could she hear the sound of his voice in her imagination. Nor was his face as well defined in her dreams.

It was time to say good-bye.

How many had known about Thomas’s “flings,” as Pinkie had called them? How could she have been blind to his human frailties? She had tried to conjure up bitterness toward Thomas but couldn’t.

He had loved her. No matter what else he had done, she knew that he had loved her. He had been exactly what she needed at the time in her life when he came along. And she supposed that she had been a boost to his middle-aged ego. They had been good for each other during the years they’d had together. How could she feel bad about that?

Her mind felt cleansed and at peace. Her body had recovered from the ordeal it had been put through during the last year. She was rested. In another week she would return to work.

But what if they didn’t want her back? What if she had no job waiting for her? What if she had to start all over again for the third time in her life?

She stood up and stretched. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” she said aloud. Whatever the future held, she now felt ready to face it.

The refrigerator and pantry were grim reminders that she hadn’t been to the market in several days. But she was suddenly ravenous and decided to dress and go out to dinner. Her reinstatement into society might be awkward. She needed to be around people.

She dressed in a denim skirt, a pair of low-heeled boots, a short-sleeved cotton sweater, and a suede jacket. The temperatures up in the mountains were considerably cooler at night.

It wasn’t a long walk to the center of town, but by the time she was seated in a corner booth at one of the best restaurants, her stomach was growling rebelliously. She ordered a shamefully immodest dinner. It was while she was sipping a pre-dinner glass of wine that he walked in.

It was as if he had come looking for her and knew exactly where to find her. The moment he entered the room, his eyes lasered across the candlelit dimness to fix on her. The hostess greeted him and he responded, though his eyes remained on Kari. The hostess glanced over her shoulder, then smiled at him and nodded. He stepped around her and made his way through the tables toward the booth.

Kari set her wineglass down so he wouldn’t see that her hand was trembling. She wanted to look away, but was held spellbound by his gaze. His face was expressionless, but he gave the impression that he knew exactly what he was going to do when he got there.

He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the booth. “If you don’t let me join you, it’s going to be mighty embarrassing. I told the hostess that you were expecting me.”

And in that instant, Kari realized that she had been expecting him. Not specifically that night, but somehow she had known he would come.

“I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed, so you’d better sit down.”

The light from the candle on the table was dancing in her hair, flickering in her eyes, and shining on her lips. He thought she’d never looked lovelier. Kari would never have guessed that his heart was beating just as fast and erratically as hers.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

She made no answer but slid over a bit and moved her purse and jacket aside to give him room to sit down. When he was settled, he folded his hands on the table and turned only his head toward her. They stared. Just stared. They didn’t move, hardly breathed, but their eyes were busy.

“Sir, would you care to order?”

Hunter kept his eyes on Kari even while he responded to the waiter. “I’ll have whatever the lady is having. And we’d like a bottle of wine. One that goes with …” He consulted Kari. “What are we eating?”

“Trout.”

“One that goes with trout.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The waiter withdrew and they fell into that silent staring spell again.

“You look different,” she remarked candidly.

“So do you.”

“I’ve never seen you dressed in anything but a suit and tie.” His slacks and shirt were casual. The collar of his poplin Windbreaker was flipped up and the sleeves were rolled back to the middle of his forearm. Even as she noted it, he took it off and laid it beside her jacket on the other side of the booth. The outfit was straight out of GQ, but it looked better on him than it did on the models in the magazine.