The One In My Heart

Without realizing what I was doing, I kissed him on his hair. He took my hand in his and played with my fingers. I felt…paralyzed. Part of me wanted to yank away immediately. And a different part of me would like for us to stay like this forever.

In the end Bennett was the one to straighten first, dipping a spoon into a demitasse of soup—he’d hardly touched any of his food. “I spoke to Mrs. Asquith a couple of days ago and asked about Zelda’s ex.”

I felt a flutter of a different kind of nerves. “What did she say?”

“He and his wife are in the middle of a divorce, which kind of took everyone by surprise.”

“Is it because he found someone else?”

“Mrs. Asquith didn’t think so. Seems like there was just nothing left.”

“Did she tell Zelda?”

“I didn’t ask.” Bennett looked at me. “You think she’d still care, after all these years?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she has never mentioned him, not even by allusion: ‘Oh, there was a man I once dated,’ or, ‘a TV producer I used to know.’ It’s like she erased him. You see what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Hmm. Did he understand because he had done just that, expunging his ex from his existence?

No, what was I thinking? He’d never hesitated to bring her up, not from the very beginning, with that reference about having been known to like an older woman.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

I spied Mrs. Devonport approaching the buffet. “You go. I’ll do some investigating.”

“Seconds?” asked Mrs. Devonport as I drew up next to her.

“Absolutely. I love these little bowls of truffle risotto.”

“I haven’t had it yet, but I’m so glad you like it.” She leaned in a little closer. “We’ve been wondering where Bennett has been hiding himself since he came back to town. I guess it’s been with you.”

“Not all the time. He’s still doing his fellowship, and there’s no end to the work.” I also leaned in toward Mrs. Devonport. “I didn’t know until Bennett told me just now that Charlotte is his mom’s goddaughter—I said I had a reception to go to and would he mind coming with me, so he really had no idea who the wedding parties were. Are his parents going to be here, by any chance? I should probably prepare myself if things are going to be awkward.”

“Oh, you don’t ever need to worry about the Somersets being awkward in public,” Mrs. Devonport hastened to reassure me. “Besides, Frances called me this afternoon and said she was still under the weather—the flu—and she didn’t want to give it to anybody else.”

“Phew,” I said. “Crisis averted. Thanks for letting me know.”

When I returned with my newly gathered intelligence, someone had taken my seat, a wavy-haired blonde in a cranberry spaghetti-strap dress.

Bennett rose and kissed me beneath my ear. “Sweetheart, I thought you were never coming back. I missed you.”

“I was gone for five minutes, Doctor. You need to be a little less clingy.”

He laughed. “Evangeline, this is Damaris. Damaris, Evangeline. Damaris and I took ballroom lessons together when we were kids.”

“Bennett came with me to talent night at my school, and we brought down the house with our tango routine,” bragged Damaris.

“Tango? Did you guys bring sexy back?”

“I thought so at the time. But then Bennett and I went dancing last June at a tango club and my God”—she trailed a finger up Bennett’s lapel—”what a difference, dancing the tango with him all grown-up. How come we haven’t gone back there since?”

“I told you,” Bennett said coolly, “my work is too busy.”

“Why? You can buy the hospital. Forget work.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Bennett. “But it’s good to see you again, Damaris. Now, would you mind giving my date her chair back?”

Damaris stood up reluctantly. “We should tango here tonight and show everybody a thing or two.”

“I don’t think so. See you later.”

Damaris made a sound through her nose. “I wouldn’t feel so secure about your place if I were you,” she said to me. “He went out with my friend a few times last summer and then dumped her like a bag of cement.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I answered with a smile. “I’ll be sure to dump him first.”

“You really are the best,” Bennett whispered to me as we sat down in the wake of Damaris’s hair-tossing departure.

“Next time, if you must reject a woman, try some subtle.”

“I already tried subtle. The patient is forty-five percent inebriated and not responding to subtle.”

Damaris looked back just then. Bennett wasted no time in pulling me toward him and kissing me on my cheek. “Now, why don’t you get wasted and come on to me?”

I ignored that question. “Your mom has the flu. She called Mrs. Davenport earlier to say she wouldn’t be coming.”

This sobered him. “At least I don’t have to wonder about that anymore.”

We sat silently for a while; then I felt him touch the shell of my ear. The sensation of it all but skewered me. “What happened to waiting for me to get wasted first?”

“That’s only one scenario.”

“What’s this scenario, then?”