“I don’t know what your problem is,” Stan snapped at him late one Friday afternoon, “but whatever it is, fix it.” And with that Stan stalked away.
It didn’t help matters that Britt had become a constant thorn in his side. He couldn’t make her understand that no matter how fond he was of her son, he wasn’t interested in dating her.
Steve had lost count of the number of times he had to stop himself from contacting Cassie. He would have in less time it took to breathe if she hadn’t made it abundantly clear that she had to be the one to seek him out. The next move had to come from her and thus far it didn’t look like she was inclined to make one.
He made a point of checking on her through Stan and Megan at the Habitat office. Her house was coming along ahead of schedule. From what Stan said, Cassie was working every spare minute on the project. Her furniture was stored in his warehouse and would remain there until she was ready to collect it. He’d sent word via Stan that he’d hold on to it until needed. He hoped for a personal reply. None came.
As the weeks progressed, his mood darkened. He was back to visiting Alicia more often now, talking out his troubles while standing over her grave site. Now sitting in his pickup at the cemetery, Steve mulled over his conversation with Stan. If he had a clue on how to fix this thing with Cassie, he would have done it two months ago. As it was, they were at a complete standstill.
Climbing out of his truck, Steve walked over to his wife’s grave site. It eased his mind to talk to Alicia, which was sort of absurd, seeing that she couldn’t respond. Still, it’d become a habit.
In the months following her death, he’d been to the cemetery nearly every day. He’d stop by three or four times a week on his way to or from work and then on weekends. As time progressed he’d come less frequently. Alicia would have understood, and he was fairly certain she’d approve of the way he spent his time these days, working with Habitat.
He felt responsible for looking after the grave site, bringing her flowers. Alicia’s family all lived on the East Coast and he was the only one to keep her grave tended.
When he arrived at the grave site, to his surprise, he saw that someone had left a bouquet of flowers. They looked like they were a couple of days old. Steve couldn’t imagine who would have brought them. He would probably never know. He removed the older bouquet and replaced it with the fresh one.
“It’s been awhile,” he whispered, straightening, and then felt he should make an effort to explain. “I meant to come sooner.”
He bent over and brushed away grass clippings. He’d had Alicia’s picture placed on her gravestone as a reminder that she’d been beautiful and far too young to have lost her life. Seeing her photo smiling back at him made talking to her feel less strange.
“Stan said I needed to fix what was wrong. I wish I could, but I can’t do anything about Cassie,” he said. “It was her choice. I was in the wrong and apologized, but that wasn’t enough.” What frustrated him most was that at one point she’d actually compared him to her ex-husband, as if Steve was some kind of lowlife. It tightened his jaw every time he thought about what she’d said. “If she can’t tell the difference between a man like me and a man like Duke, I’m better off without her,” he said, talking out loud again.
His shoulders sagged. He’d been telling himself that repeatedly, not that he was anywhere close to believing it.
Steve knew he’d been walking around like an injured bear for nearly two months. He had to fix this. Looking down at his wife’s grave marker, he released a sigh.
He waited for a moment while he mulled over his dilemma.
“Do I love her?” he asked himself.
“I think so,” he said, answering his own question. “My gut’s been in a perpetual knot ever since we split.”
He walked a complete circle around the grave site.
He stopped and abruptly rammed his fingers through his hair.
Finally, he headed back to his truck. He’d brought the old wilting floral bouquet and tossed it into the flatbed to discard at home. As he did, a card fell out. Steve reached down and took hold of it—it was printed with the name of the grocery store where the flowers had been bought.
A store in Kent.
The store that was only a couple blocks from Cassie and Amiee’s apartment. The same store where she routinely shopped.
Steve mulled it over and then shook his head. It wasn’t possible that Cassie had brought the flowers. For one thing, she would have no way of knowing where Alicia was buried unless …
He grabbed his cell and hit the button that would connect him to Stan. His friend answered on the second ring.
“Steve?”
“Question,” he said
“You gonna bite my head off if you don’t like the answer?” his buddy asked.
“No.”
“Good thing, because otherwise I wouldn’t be inclined to answer.”
Despite himself, Steve smiled. “Did Cassie happen to ask you where Alicia was buried?”
Stan hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I found flowers at Alicia’s grave site and I wasn’t the one who put them there.”
“Was Cassie’s name on a card or something?”
Stan was avoiding the question, which was an answer in and of itself. “Nothing with her name on it. It was the name of the grocery store near her apartment. Seems to me they could only have come from her.”
“A lot of people shop at that same grocery store, you know.”
“I’m sure they do,” Steve concurred. As far as he was concerned he had his answer. “Thanks for your help.”
For the first time in two months, the knot in Steve’s stomach loosened. He started up his truck and headed out of the cemetery. He’d come, feeling low and blue, seeking Alicia’s advice and expecting nothing. And yet his wife had given him the very answer he needed.
He heard himself whistling when his cell chirped. Glancing at his phone, caller ID told him it was Britt. He let the call go to voice mail as he headed to the construction site, knowing Cassie was probably there working off the last of her equity hours.
Arriving at the site, Steve was surprised by how far along the house was. The frame and roof were all up. Stan was busy supervising but stepped toward the curb when he saw Steve drive up.
“You looking for Cassie?” Stan asked.
“How’d you guess?” Steve propped his elbow in the open window.
“She isn’t here.”
Steve frowned. “You’re not hiding her from me, are you?”
His friend grinned. “No. I’d know better than to do anything that stupid.”
“Then where is she?”
“Do I look like her keeper?” Stan demanded.
Thwarted, Steve realized now probably wasn’t the best time to seek Cassie out anyway. He’d give it time, he decided, wait a day or two even, mull over how best to approach her. This was a delicate matter and he shouldn’t act on impulse.
Instead of searching out Cassie, Steve drove to his office, where his desk was stacked high with paperwork that needed to be processed. His cell rang again and once more it was Britt.
“Hello?” he snapped, in no mood to deal with her.
“Steve, it’s Britt.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You haven’t returned my calls,” she said with a small pout. “Jeremy wanted to ask you to come to the house this weekend.”
“I’m busy this weekend. Can you put him on the line and I’ll talk to him?”
Britt hesitated. “I’m beginning to think you’re not interested in seeing me or Jeremy.”
She sounded hurt now and Steve felt wretched. “Listen, Britt. I’m already involved with someone.” His heart was involved, if nothing else. Despite the fact that Cassie appeared to want nothing more to do with him, he’d fallen for her hard. She wasn’t going to be easy to forget.
“You don’t mean that girl from the Hoedown, do you? You can’t mean her! Steve, really, she’s one of those poor women who are charity cases. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious, Britt. You’re beautiful and Jeremy is a great kid. I’ll be happy to remain pals with your son, but as for you and me, it’s not going to work.”