“No one makes pot pie like Kate,” Mr. O’Farrell commented after humming in approval.
Doc agreed wholeheartedly and said so. Kate was an excellent cook, and her efforts were very much enjoyed by everyone at Sanctuary.
“Is her young man treating her well? Is she happy?”
“He is, and she is,” Doc confirmed.
Mad Dog’s whole world revolved around his wife, and there was no question that Kate felt the same way about him. Still, her family’s shunning must have hurt, especially when it was so pointless.
“She’s a good girl with a big heart. I’m glad she found someone who appreciates her. What about you?”
Doc stopped chewing. “What about me?”
“Got any special ladies in your sights?”
Once again, an image of Tina Obermacher came to mind, but that didn’t really count, not the way Mr. O’Farrell meant anyway.
Doc continued to chew, then swallowed, and took a drink of water. “Not particularly.”
“Why not? You’re a handsome fella with a good head on your shoulders and a kind soul. Shouldn’t be that hard to find a decent woman. How old are you now?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Thirty-one!” Mr. O’Farrell chuckled. “By the time I was your age, I’d already served my time in the Navy, gotten married, and had three kids.”
Well, thought Doc, one out of three isn’t too bad.
“You know, Lottie’s got a granddaughter. Quite a looker, too. If things work out, maybe I could introduce you. We could double-date sometime.”
Chapter Nine
Tina
“Good, you’re here. She’s in a mood today,” Bonnie said by way of greeting when Tina arrived at the house to pick up her grandmother.
According to Bonnie, Lottie was always in a mood, but Tina believed it was more of a clash of personalities than anything. Lottie made it clear she didn’t think much of Rick’s wife, and Bonnie had suggested on several occasions that the Obermacher matriarch would be happier living in the retirement village in town.
“Are you wearing makeup?” Bonnie narrowed her eyes and peered suspiciously at Tina. “You look different.”
Tina had spent extra time on her appearance that morning. As a result, her freshly plucked eyebrows were on point, her skin was properly moisturized and glowing, and her hair had some flattering new layers, thanks to a long-overdue visit to the salon.
“New lip balm,” Tina replied.
“Huh. Listen,” Bonnie said, lowering her voice, “do you think you could keep her a little later than usual tonight?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Because we’re having people over.”
Tina took in the state of the kitchen and winced inwardly. Dirty dishes littered the sink and counter. Cereal boxes sat open on the table next to half-full bowls of milk, peppered with soggy floaters—no doubt the remains of that morning’s breakfast.
Bonnie wasn’t looking much better. Though past noon, she was still wearing a robe over pajama pants and Rick’s torn football practice jersey, now stretched to the max across Bonnie’s expanding frame. Her hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in days.
There was a time when Bonnie, former head cheerleader and queen of both her junior and senior proms, had refused to be seen in public without perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect nails, but that had started changing not long after their first child was born.
“Anyone I know?” Tina asked half-jokingly, because everyone knew everyone in Sumneyville.
Her sister-in-law shrugged, but didn’t answer.
Bonnie and Rick’s second child came racing into the room, screaming like a banshee. Their oldest followed closely on her heels, brandishing his junior hockey stick. The younger one stopped behind Tina, grabbed both of her legs, and peered through at her older brother.
“Aunt Tina! Aunt Tina! Save me! Ricky’s going to hit me with his stick!”
The little boy’s face screwed up with rage. He definitely had his father’s temper. “She stole my pucks and hid them, so now, I’m going to use her as a puck!”
Tina looked to Bonnie, who exhaled and said wearily, “Both of you, stop right now, or I’ll take your games away for the rest of the day.”
The kids ignored her completely. They, like Tina, knew their mother wouldn’t follow through. If Bonnie took their games away, she would have to find some other way to occupy them, and everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Ricky continued jabbing his hockey stick at his sister. One or two solid whacks against Tina’s legs was enough to justify an intervention, in Tina’s opinion. Bonnie might not believe in discipline, but Tina did.
She reached down and plucked the stick from him with one hand while grabbing the shell of his ear with the