between her and Reese going anywhere—for one thing, he had a distinct aversion to the printed word—but the notion that he was interested in her added a cheery note to what had been a distinctly unpleasant day. And so, with a deliberately casual air of her own, she clarified, “We’re not exactly dating, but Jake has been encouraging me to go out with him. She thinks he’d be good for me.”
“Hey, that’s great.” Reese gave her a brotherly slap on the back. “I sure hope it works out for you. A broad your age, you can’t afford to wait around too much longer for the right guy to show up. Tick, tock, and all that.”
Tick, tock?
Darla’s previous warm, fuzzy feeling took an abrupt header into cold and prickly territory. Seriously, Reese’s whole “hates books” attitude should have been fair warning. Good a friend as he might be to Jake, the man was definitely a Cro-Magnon when it came to more personal relationships.
“If that was a crude reference to my biological clock, then I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you,” she replied in as frosty a tone as she could muster. “In case you didn’t get the memo, a woman doesn’t need a man to have a fulfilling life. And she sure doesn’t need one to have a baby . . . at least, not after that first ten minutes.”
“Hey, that first ten minutes is the best part,” Reese countered with a wink that made her blush despite her outrage. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Red. I was just kidding with you.”
“And I’ve told you before, don’t call me Red,” Darla gritted out. Her ex had called her that—usually followed by some obnoxious statement that he’d thought was unduly clever—and she had come to loathe the nickname.
He pantomimed an erasing motion with one hand. “Sorry, I forgot about that whole Red thing. Don’t send your boyfriend over to kick my ass about it, okay?”
“I can handle my own ass-kicking, thank you very much.” She was about to add a few more choice remarks, when she glanced past Reese to see Barry staring curiously at the pair of them. No point in creating a scene, particularly under the circumstances.
Favoring Barry with a sympathetic wave—and Reese with a parting glare—Darla started back in the direction of the bookstore. The weather seemed colder now than when she and Barry had so companionably made their way to the brownstone a couple of hours earlier. Also, reaction to Curt’s death had begun to set in, and she felt suddenly drained of energy.
Still, visions of crowbar-wielding thieves kept her moving at a brisk pace down the street, though force of habit made her slow as she passed by Great Scentsations. The Halloween graveyard scene had been modified by the addition of a stuffed figure of a sexy, miniskirted witch chasing a fuzzy black cat through the soap tombstones.
Cute, Darla thought with a flash of a smile, feeling more than a little sympathetic toward Ms. Witch. Her amusement faded just as swiftly, however, as she debated whether or not she should stop in to tell Hilda about what had happened to Curt.
She and Hilda were friendly enough, but their acquaintance was strictly a business one. Breaking this sort of news seemed to require a more personal relationship than they had. And she hadn’t thought to ask Barry if he planned to break the news to Tera about her boyfriend. But since Barry was still at the brownstone for the foreseeable future, who knew when he’d have the chance? If she gave Hilda a heads-up now, the woman could tell her daughter right away, rather than having Tera learn about it in some impersonal way. On the other hand, maybe it should be Jake who talked to Hilda. After all, she was the one who’d been hired to—
“Hello, Darla, how are you?” Hilda’s cultured voice broke in on her musings, the unexpected greeting making Darla jump.
Guiltily, she tore her gaze from the window display to see Hilda’s neatly coiffed head poking out from around the shop doorway. The woman smiled apologetically.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you’ve been standing outside my window for several minutes now looking dazed. Is something wrong?”
There’s an opening if ever I saw one. Darla took a deep breath. “Actually, there is,” she said aloud. “Why don’t I come inside and tell you.”
Hilda gave a gracious nod and held open the door. She was wearing a turquoise Chanel skirted suit and