need something to drink or just something to hold in their hands.
The waitress quickly arrives at our table with her pot and fills mugs before dismissing herself when I tell her this is all for now.
“So, what’s your story?” Rita asks as soon as we are alone.
“I thought you said no sob stories,” I tease, lifting my mug for my lips. This coffee could rival the Bean’s. “But it’s not like you don’t know.”
Rita peers at me across the table. “I don’t.”
Setting my mug down, I meet her puzzled gaze. “Ri-ight.”
“No, really. We’re only told who is joining us. The board has to agree on placements, but only Alfred reads a person’s background. He vets the information, mainly assuring there isn’t a concern of physical harm or threat to our team. That’s the truth of it.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “And you haven’t looked me up?” I’m floored that she actually doesn’t know anything else about me. With a quick internet search, I’m certain the once newsworthy story is present somewhere.
“Good people make bad decisions all the time.” She shrugs. “I believe in second chances and don’t want to make a preconceived notion. So nope.”
I take a second to absorb what she said. Good people make bad decisions all the time. Don’t I know it.
“Not even a little social media sleuthing?” I tease, although she wouldn’t find anything. I’m not on any social media sites, having deleted my accounts years ago. Rita shakes her head, and I’m surprised again.
“How about you? Tell me how you got started in Building Buddies.”
Rita slowly smiles. It’s a pleasant smile as though she’s about to share a secret, but a secret she can’t wait to share. I find myself watching her lips move as she speaks.
“My dad was involved in the program. He started it with a group of men looking to do service for others. Construction service specifically.” She shrugs. “My father’s father was a builder of sorts, but my dad became a lawyer. I think a small part of him always felt guilty he didn’t use his hands more than his brain, so he began the program with Alfred and a few business friends.”
That explains her ease with Alfred. Even though I know the answer to what I ask next, I still ask. “And what happened to your dad?”
“He passed almost eight years ago.” Her smile softens with fondness but sorrow. “Second heart attack. We were close, and I worked in his office after his first heart attack. When I finished my law degree at Vermont Law, I became a full-time associate in Kaplan and Associates.” She sits straighter, speaking as if making a proud proclamation.
“My nephew goes to Vermont Law,” I state with as much pride, and her smile deepens.
“My associate went there, too.”
“Impressive.”
“So, you have a nephew. Who else makes up your family?” The shy grin accompanying her question hints at wanting more information—like do I have a wife or a girlfriend.
“It’s my brother Nolan and myself. That’s it. Nolan had my nephew Rory when he was too young to be a dad, and coincidentally, I’ve been acting as Nolan’s father most of his life as ours left when we were little kids.”
“I’m so sorry,” she interjects, and I see she means it, especially as she just told me how close she was to her own father.
“My mother died in an auto accident when I was eighteen. I’d been at Burlington U then, but Nolan was too young to live alone, and then he thought with his dick instead of his head.” I make a face at the crude reference. “Sorry about that.”
Rita shrugs. “It happens. The dick-thinking, that is.”
Softly, I chuckle. “Anyway, so here I am.”
“Wife? Children?” She cuts to the chase.
“I was married once,” I state, lowering my eyes for the mug in my hands on the table. “But we divorced right before I went to prison.”
Silence falls between us a second before Rita quietly responds, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I nod. I’m over it. At the time, I was angry. I thought Lisa was my everything, but I was wrong. Your everything loves you through thick and thin—good times and bad.
“And you?” I eye Rita, lifting my mug once more for another sip.
“No wife. No children,” she teases. I cock a brow at her, wondering if I’ve misread her tastes. “Ian was my fiancé.”
Slowly, I nod again, having made the connection. When Rita doesn’t offer more, I tip my head to catch her lowered gaze. “No