Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,63
your gut? Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”
Nina crossed her arms against her chest. “I think you’re being evasive right now.”
“Nooo. I’m being a good Auntie Tori.”
A smile lit the woman’s dark eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
She clapped her hands together only to have a few curious heads turn in their direction from the computer bank. Lowering her voice, she closed the gap between them in an effort to keep their conversation as private as possible. “Then it’s settled? It’s finally settled?”
“What’s settled?”
“You’re finally going to drop this Miss Sinclair nonsense once and for all?”
A flush rose up in Nina’s cheeks. “I—I always called Ms. Dunn Ms. Dunn. I guess I just feel more comfortable that way.”
“Well, I don’t. We’re more than just coworkers, Nina. We’re friends, too, aren’t we?” Without waiting for a reply she touched a gentle hand to the woman’s stomach. “And I most certainly don’t want to be known as Auntie Miss Sinclair.”
“How about Auntie Mrs. Wentworth?”
She drew her hand back. “Let’s not jump the gun, okay? Auntie Tori suits me just fine, don’t you think?”
Nina grabbed her hand and held it tight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s all good.” She tugged her hand away and wandered back over to the computer. “Really, it’s fine.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Sinclair.”
She whirled around. “Wait. I thought you were going to stop calling me that.”
“And I thought you said we were friends.” Lifting the printout from the counter once again, Nina skimmed her finger down the list of titles. “You’ve got some good ones here. Hopefully they’ll be enough to entice the high school kids to give this club a chance.”
There was no doubt about it, she’d hurt Nina by putting her off and it was easy to see why. While she’d thought nothing of asking the woman details about her pregnancy, Tori, herself, had deliberately tried to hold back details of her own life.
“Look, Nina, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to heap my sad story on your shoulders when you have such wonderful news to share.”
“And I shared it.”
“Okay, I get it. I really do.” She looked around the room, noting the activity of each and every patron—the elderly couple on the computers, the forty-something man perusing the newspapers, the college-aged kid hunched over a stack of research manuals at a corner table. “Okay, yes, there’s a problem. Only it’s not really Milo. Not in the way you must be thinking.”
Nina stepped from behind the counter only to return dragging a chair. Positioning it close to Tori’s stool, she sat down. “What am I thinking?”
“That we’re fighting? Or on the verge of a breakup?”
“You’re not?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She inhaled the answer into her lungs then listened to it as it poured from her mouth. “He’s being maneuvered like a puppet at the moment and doesn’t seem to see it.”
Nina eyebrows rose. “Maneuvered by who?”
“His college sweetheart. His drop-dead gorgeous college sweetheart. She’s back in town on business and has her sights set on him. Only he’s not responding the way she’d like so she’s pulling out all the stops to make sure that he does.”
“Pulling out all the stops?”
“That’s right.” She heard the hint of bitterness in her voice and felt ashamed.
“Like?”
“Like saying she’s afraid for her safety every time she knows we’re together, landing her overnight accommodations in his home in the process.”
Nina gasped.
“Remember how I was late returning from lunch over the weekend?”
“Yes.”
“They were having a picnic lunch together.”
“A picnic lunch?”
“It was her doing. But halfway through the lunch, he called me and I happened to be on the Green, too. Within three seconds of me being with him, this one starts screeching about someone watching her from the woods.”
“So Milo runs off and away from you.”
Tori nodded, Nina’s recap bringing a burn to her eyes. “And as he’s running, she’s smiling.”
“Smiling?” Nina echoed.
“Why not? Her mission was accomplished.”
“Tell him, Miss—Tori! Tell him she’s pulling his strings. No man wants to be someone else’s puppet.”
She closed her eye against the memory of their late night phone call the night before, the encouragement of her sewing sisters still fresh in her mind. “I did. Or, at least, I tried to. Last night. After everyone left.”
“And?”
“He got quiet. Maybe even a little angry . . . though that’s hard to tell for sure with Milo. He’s not one to get angry.”
Nina’s hands rose and fell above her lap. “Did he say anything?”
“Just that I was being unfair. That I wasn’t