She blinked at me, like she was trying to remember my name. Which made me even more concerned. Mary and Bill were older, maybe not as old as Jackie, but definitely considered retirement age. Was this what a stroke looked like? Should I call an ambulance? Questions floated through my head as Mary settled in front of me and finally smiled.
“Jill, what are you doing here?” She glanced around the street, like she wasn’t sure what she was doing here, either. She peeked behind me. “Is Jackie with you?”
“Like she could hide behind me?” I stole a look at my capris and tank top. “I don’t think I’m big enough to hide a fully grown woman.”
Mary’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course not, why would you even say that?”
I was about to point out she’d just looked around me for my aunt when she waved my words away.
“Of course she’s not with you. Today’s your day off, right? Jackie will be at the shop.” Mary took a step away from me and toward Coffee, Books, and More. She stopped, realizing she’d been impolite. “Sorry, I’m just in a hurry to talk to your aunt.”
I put my hand on Mary’s elbow and walked her to the park bench in front of City Hall under the large pine. Her hand shook as she moved her purse onto her lap. “Hold on a second. Take a breath. Are you feeling okay?”
Mary’s eyes lost that distant look and she focused on my face. No, that wasn’t right. Her gaze bored into my soul like she could read my thoughts. “Why? What have you heard?”
I put my hands up, trying to calm her. “All I know is you look like crap. I don’t want to walk away from you and find out you collapsed in the middle of Main Street after we parted ways. Do you want some water?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve been a little frazzled lately, but I’m fine, really.”
I watched as she ran her fingers through her hair, moving the do into a respectable shape. She took another deep breath and pasted on a smile so fake it could have been synthetically designed.
“You can tell me anything. I won’t blab.” My gaze dropped to the two-carat diamond ring on Mary’s left hand. “You and Bill okay?”
She waved away my question. “We’ve been married fifty years, of course we’re okay. I’ve just been”—she paused, seeking a word—“distracted for a few weeks. Our anniversary is coming up, and I want everything to be perfect.”
I weighed her words. They rang true. Except I could feel that there was more to what was going on besides a celebration of their nuptials. “If there’s anything I can do to help . . .” I trailed off as Mary’s cell rang. She dug in her purse, not looking at me.
Answering the phone, she stepped away and absently waved at me as she focused on the phone call. “I’m so glad you called me. I’ve been worried. I left several messages.”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, as Mary almost ran down the sidewalk to get away from me. I put call Aunt Jackie on my mental to-do list, along with maybe a call to Bill, strictly about the next Business-to-Business meeting. If he was acting as weird as his wife, then I’d know something was up with the two of them.
Trouble in paradise. Seriously, Bill and Mary were the last married couple I’d have pegged for having problems. If they couldn’t make it, what did that say about the rest of us?
CHAPTER 7
Aunt Jackie hadn’t answered her cell. I’d gotten the machine when I called Bill. And now Amy was late for lunch. For a Friday, it wasn’t living up to my expectations. I thumbed through the ton of e-books I’d bought and downloaded onto my phone with the expectation I’d read them when I found a spare minute of time. Like now.
Instead, I thumbed through the covers, wondering which one I wanted to start. Scrolling through my phone was like walking through the bookstore; I had too many choices.
I heard Amy slide into the booth across from me. I closed out the program and set my phone aside; I’d figure out a book to read the next time I had a few minutes alone. Then I looked up. Amy wasn’t the person sitting across from me.
“Hear me out.” Pat Williams held up a perfectly manicured hand.
I shook my head. “I really don’t think we have anything to talk about.” Pat was Sherry’s best friend. If the two women stood side by side you’d swear they were sisters. They both had that trophy wife look, all polished and professional. Although, I guess, to run a shop where you charged the kind of prices they did for used clothes, looking professional was part of the package. Sherry and Pat just took their “work uniform” to a 24/7 level of commitment.
“You have to help her. Greg will listen to you.” Pat grabbed my hand and squeezed. “You have power over him.”
I swear she almost tripped over what she didn’t say at the end of that sentence, something like even though I have no idea how. But I couldn’t fault her for words not spoken. “Look, Sherry’s just going to have to get over the fact that Greg and I are dating. She had her shot with him, now that’s over.”
“You don’t understand—” Pat started, then looked up at Amy standing by the table, glowering at the interloper.