Blue Dahlia Page 0,47
she was curious, Roz rose to go to the window herself. Standing beside Stella she looked out.
It was a lovely thing, she decided, watching a young woman, blooming with child, wandering a winter garden.
She'd once been that young woman, dreaming in the twilight and waiting for spring to bring life.
Time didn't just zip by, she thought. It damn near evaporated on you.
"She seems happy now, and sure of what she's going to do. But could be after she has the baby, she'll change her mind about having the father involved." Roz watched Hayley lay a hand on her belly and look west, to where the sun was sinking behind the trees and into the river beyond them. "Having a live baby in your arms and the prospect of caring for it single-handed's one hell of a reality check. We'll see when the time comes."
"You're right. And I don't suppose either of us knows her well enough to know what's best. Speaking of babies, it's nearly time to get mine in the tub. I'm going to leave the weekly report with you."
"All right. I'll get to it. I should tell you, Stella, I like what you've done. What shows, like in the customer areas, and what doesn't, in the office management. I see spring coming, and for the first time in years, I'm not frazzled and overworked. I can't say I minded being overworked, but I can't say I mind not being, either."
"Even when I bug you with details?"
"Even when. I haven't heard any complaints about Logan in the past few days. Or from him. Am I living in a fool's paradise, or have you two found your rhythm?"
"There are still a few hitches in it, and I suspect there'll be others, but nothing for you to worry about. In fact, he made a very friendly gesture and offered to take me to Graceland."
"He did?" Roz's eyebrows drew together. "Logan?"
"Would that be out of the ordinary for him?"
"I couldn't say, except I don't know that he's dated anyone from work before."
"It's not a date, it's an outing."
Intrigued, Roz sat again. You never knew what you'd learn from a younger woman, she decided.
"What's the difference?"
"Well, a date's dinner and a movie with potential, even probable, romantic overtones. Taking your kids to the zoo is an outing."
Roz leaned back, stretched out her legs. "Things do change, don't they? Still, in my book, when a man and a woman go on an outing, it's a date."
"See, that's my quandary." Since conversation seemed welcomed, Stella walked over again, sat on the arm of the chair facing Roz. "Because that's my first thought. But it seemed like just a friendly gesture, and the 'outing' term was his. Like a kind of olive branch. And if I take it, maybe we'd find that common ground, or that rhythm, whatever it is we need to smooth out the rough spots in our working relationship."
"So, if I'm following this, you'd go to Graceland with Logan for the good of In the Garden."
"Sort of."
"And not because he's a very attractive, dynamic, and downright sexy single man."
"No, those would be bonus points." She waited until Roz stopped laughing. "And I'm not thinking of wading in that pool. Dating's a minefield."
"Tell me about it. I've got more years in that war zone than you."
"I like men." She reached back to tug the band ponytail-ing her hair a little higher. "I like the company of men. But dating's so complicated and stressful."
"Better complicated and stressful than downright boring, which too many of my experiences in the field have been."
"Complicated, stressful, or downright boring, I like the sound of 'outing' much better. Listen, I know Logan's a friend of yours. But I'd just like to ask if you think, if I went with him, I'd be making a mistake, or giving the wrong impression. The wrong signal. Or maybe crossing that line between coworkers. Or - "
"That's an awful lot of complication and stress you're working up over an outing."
"It is. I irritate myself." Shaking her head, she pushed off the chair. "I'd better get bath time started. Oh, and I'll get Hayley going on those bulbs tomorrow."
"That's fine. Stella - are you going on this outing?"
She paused at the doorway. "Maybe. I'll sleep on it."
Chapter Eight
She was dreaming of flowers. An enchanting garden, full of young, vital blooms, flowed around her. It was perfect, tidied and ordered, its edges ruler-straight to form a keen verge against the well-trimmed grass.
Color swept into color,