wore tight white capris, a short T-shirt that showed her belly and she had tattoos down one arm. Her hair was streaked or colored white-blond, and spiky. Justine longed for binoculars. She couldn’t really make out the details of her face, except that she had a long, pointy nose. They held hands and strolled like lovers.
“Oh-oh,” Logan said.
“This is my first time seeing her,” Justine said.
“There’s not much to see,” Logan said.
“There are some amazing tattoos to see,” Justine pointed out. “I have to admit she’s not what I expected. But she does have a good figure. At least from here she looks like a solid little thing.”
“Justine, you’re beautiful,” he said. “And brilliant.”
“And somehow, not enough...”
“That’s grief talking,” he said. “And at the end of the day, you’ll be better off than he will be.”
“But will I be better off than her?” she asked.
“Now that I can’t tell you,” Logan said. “But what I do know after all I’ve been able to learn about them, is your ex-husband is very stupid.”
“Seeing them, like that... It’s a little shocking. But it doesn’t make me want him back. Shouldn’t I want him? I gave him everything I had for thirty years!”
“I don’t know,” Logan said. “Maybe you’re happy you aren’t going to give him thirty more?”
“I’m still a little afraid of being alone...”
“Justine, you’re not alone,” he said. “I just bought you wine and artichoke dip! Man, you really work a guy hard!” And then he grinned at her.
She laughed and decided she liked him enough to kiss him later. If he asked.
They walked slowly up the hill to the parking lot and, good to his word, he held her hand. It was odd how that gave her so much confidence. The old Justine wouldn’t have so much as touched the hand of another man, and would probably be looking over her shoulder to see if her husband was in the vicinity. She was thoroughly comfortable, liked the touch; her ex-husband’s feelings never once crossing her mind.
Then he was there, right in front of her.
“Justine,” Scott said. “What are you doing here?”
She jumped in surprise when she was face-to-face with him. She looked left and saw the woman at his side, then swiveled her eyes back to Scott. “I’m taking in the art walk.” She looked at him closely. “That’s a nasty bruise.” A big purple bruise on his cheek had blackened his eye, and there was a small cut on his lip.
“I was helping out at the kayak shack and whacked myself right in the head,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to introduce us? This is Cat.”
She thought about saying a hundred mean things. She noticed the woman did not smile. In fact, she wore a very superior expression, almost a sneer. But why wouldn’t she. She won. And Scott was the prize?
“No,” she said. “There’s no need. We’re not going to be friendly. Next time you see me, just keep walking.”
“Rude,” Cat said.
“Want me to tell you what’s rude?” Justine said. “I’ll tell you what’s rude! Sleeping with another woman’s—”
Logan pulled her away. He slid an arm around her waist to hold her close against his side and walked with her toward her car. “Not that I can’t appreciate a good fight, but I’m going to save you from jail time,” he said.
“Did you see how smug she was? I should’ve punched her.”
“I think she’s had practice,” Logan said.
“I shouldn’t have spoken,” Justine said. “I should have just walked away. If I ever run into her again, I’ll just turn my back.”
“Good idea,” he said. “Because she enjoyed that little temper you had.”
“How do you know that?”
“Her expression. I’ve been reading expressions for a long time. She’s got a mean streak.”
“Do you think she’d do something bad? To me or my girls?”
“Not directly,” he said. “That expression, that one uttered word? I think she likes the upper hand. She