her gaze rest on his.
His hand found its way to her hip. His mind encouraged his mouth to find its way to hers.
Rosie sighed and sat on his foot, as if he needed a reminder that he’d chosen a different path, an uninspired, humdrum path. One that would ensure Becky stayed true to her Taylor genes.
Lola sighed too, letting her hands drift to her sides, easing his hand free. “You’re dating Wendy.”
He opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out.
She glanced across the street to Ramona Everly’s house and lowered her voice. “Someone went through Randy’s stuff. I put a tarp over it last night. It’s been moved, and some things are missing.”
“Things you wanted to donate to the thrift store?” The items Ricky had turned down.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Can you dust for prints? In case it was one of Randy’s mistresses?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m tired of hearing about Randy and his lovers.” Rosie bumped into his leg, and he softened his tone. “You want the truth from someone who’s flawed? Take it from me. The past will trip you up if you don’t move on.”
He should have seen Jane coming. He should have gotten remarried long ago. He’d just never come across anyone who made him want to share his life, his bed, his closet…
His gaze fell to the high heels of Lola’s boots. “Those shoes aren’t practical for the high country.”
Lola sniffed and whirled away, tossing over her shoulder, “Who said I was practical?”
And that was the trouble.
Lola wasn’t practical.
She was Jane all over again.
* * *
“I should have driven,” Lola said in a stress-punctured voice.
Mims patted Lola’s knee while Clarice parked her minivan at the mall in Greeley. She was used to her friend’s radical driving style. Much as she liked Lola, despite all her drama, she was a distraction from Mims’s goal of matching Edith. Bitsy had never gotten with the program as it pertained to Edith. It was the poker game all over again. The matchmaking board remained divided.
“But if you drove”—Clarice glanced over her shoulder at Lola—“we wouldn’t all fit in your little car.”
They could have squeezed into Mims’s Subaru or Bitsy’s compact sedan. Mims drew the line at Edith’s small truck. It was bad enough the woman had wormed her way into the trip. Three months ago, before Charlie died, Mims wouldn’t have allowed it. She’d have been firm in her refusal. She’d have known what to say to help Lola settle down. She’d have known how to get herself out of this funk.
“The dresses wouldn’t fit in Lola’s car either,” Bitsy added from the front seat.
“I meant, I should have driven for you.” Lola released her seat belt. “I can drive us home.”
“Why?” Clarice shook her head. “The seat and mirrors are adjusted for me.”
“She doesn’t like your driving,” Edith said in a loud voice, most likely in case Clarice wasn’t wearing her hearing aids.
“You don’t have to shout.” Clarice tapped her ears, pointing out her hearing aids were in. She opened her door. “There’s no problem with my driving. I’ve never gotten a ticket or been in an accident.”
“Yet,” Lola added under her breath.
Mims patted her knee again. “It’s best if you remember her clean accident record.” Whereas Mims had backed into someone at the supermarket last month. “And better if you don’t dwell on her technique.” She dug in her purse for gum, finding it beneath her handgun.
Everyone got out and walked toward the largest department store at the mall. Lola brought up the rear, her heels keeping a slow cadence behind them.
“We’re meeting with the nicest man.” Mims sidled closer to Edith. “Sonny Baker. He’s the store manager. He’s always supportive of our causes. And he’s single.”
Edith glanced back at Lola, who was falling behind with Bitsy.
“Lola, dear,” Bitsy said in her pleasing customer service voice, “I was wondering if you felt up to doing the fashion show.”
“I’m fine. My hips are a little stiff from my cupcake fall but…” Lola cleared her throat. “But that’s not what you’re asking. You’re wondering if I’ll behave.”
Lola may have been going through a rough patch but she was one sharp cookie.
“It’s not that we don’t want you there,” Bitsy said before Mims could say Lola passing on the show was for the best. “It’s just that we don’t want any…disruptions.”
“I understand,” Lola said woodenly, immediately eliciting Mims’s sympathy and causing the Widows Club president some guilt.
“Everyone’s welcome to model,” Mims said gruffly.
“I remember the first time I was widowed.”