Her mouth formed a bitter, red moue. "They never had a chance. You kept them under lock and key.'
'That is not true.' Actually, it was sort of true, but I ignored the niggle of guilt. I leant forward and caught the calming scent of the white carnations that filled our table's vase. I lowered my voice. 'Joe was in and out of the shop for months before we started anything. Every time you saw him, you made a pass at him. He didn't respond to your overtures once. Face it, Marianne, you were this close to making a pest of yourself.'
She toyed with her salmon mousse. 'You don't have to be nasty about it.'
'But you don't listen when I'm nice.' She pouted. 'It's just - You always get what you want.' I collapsed against my chair's medallion back. 'You can't really believe that. Did I get what I wanted when my husband ran off with your daughter?'
This was not a good topic to raise. Marianne's eyes narrowed to glittering grey slits. 'Maybe you did get what you wanted. You certainly didn't fight very hard to keep him.'
'Christ, Marianne-' But I shut my mouth before I could say anything I'd regret. 'Maybe we'd better postpone this conversation until we're both thinking clearly.' 'Fine.' She tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘I know when I've struck a nerve.'
She made me so mad I ordered Triple Chocolate Torte for dessert, then ate so fast I barely tasted it. My sugar high crashed before the cab dropped us back at the bookshop.
Cursing myself for being so self-destructive, I returned Keith's cheery wave with half my heart. Depression weighted my feet; disillusion, my spirit. I wasn't like Sean and Joe. I didn't have so many friends I could afford to write one off.
I thought of all the things Marianne had done for me since she'd married my brother. Too many times to count, she'd been my sole family ally. At sixteen, she was my role model, then my drinking buddy, and now my business partner. I knew she wasn't perfect, but neither was I. How could I fail to admire a woman who embraced life so fearlessly? Everything considered, her friendship had enriched me more than I could measure.
On the other hand, if she blamed me for all her woes, what sort of friendship did we have?
'Thanks for lunch,’ she said, dropping an airy kiss to my cheek. 'I feel much better.'
I almost told her I'd promoted Keith then, so she could finish the day as crabby as I'd begun it.
The walk home worked off most of my anger and, I hoped, the chocolate torte.
Despite the nip in the air, I arrived sweaty. To my complete befuddlement, a construction crew was tramping through my house.
'Hey!' Joe bounded into the hall with a smile the size of Texas. 'You're home. Sean and I have a surprise for you.'
One of the big hairy guys grunted and tipped his fingers at me. Two others wrestled a board shrouded in bubble-wrap down the hall.
'I can't begin to guess,’1 said.
Joe rose up on his toes. 'It's a exercise room! Or it could be. Sean's Uncle Mike owns a demolition firm. He salvaged this great cherry-wood panelling from a condemned mansion. And some fixtures, too. Victorian, I think.' He faltered at my uneasy expression. 'Don't worry, Kate. It's quality goods. You'll love it.'
'It's not that.' I stepped back into the dining room to avoid another pair of panel carriers. Joe joined me. 'I'm just wondering how much this is going to cost me.'
Joe looked hurt. 'Nothing. It's a present from Sean and me. His uncle's crew is bringing the stuff over for free, and Sean and I will install it. Sean knows all about building codes and renovation, and you know I follow orders well.'
That made me smile. 'You're right. It's a wonderful idea,’
'It doesn't have to be a gym,’ he hastened to assure me. 'I just thought we could put a treadmill or something down there and then you won't have to walk outside when it's icy.'
'Very thoughtful.' I linked my arms behind his neck and tipped our hips together.
'You don't mind us, you know, making ourselves at
home?'
His honey-brown eyes shot spears to my heart. I only wished this nesting urge could last.
‘I don't mind.' I brushed his lips with mine. 'Making yourself at home by renovating my basement is much better than leaving the toilet seat up or throwing socks on the floor.'
Joe smiled and rubbed our noses together. 'You throw socks on the floor more often than we do.'
'True enough.' Happiness bubbled through my veins as we swayed by the dining room table - happiness, and a persistent prick of fear.
If my seventeen-year friendship with Marianne couldn't last, why did I think our fragile menage would?