The Accidental Encore (9 page)

“Right as wine. Speaking of wine, how is it?”

“Good. Pinot grigio’s my favorite.”

Craig chuckled. “My wife used to call it cheap.”

Allie almost choked. She didn’t know what was more
surprising, that Craig had a wife or that she’d called her favorite wine cheap.
“Your wife?”

“She was a wine snob.”

“Oh.” Allie inched around the island and watched Craig pull
plates from the cabinet. She shouldn’t ask. She really didn’t care, except the
question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I take it you’re
divorced?”

Leah ran into the kitchen. “Allie, did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“I got it, that last part of the song.” Leah’s face fell. “You
weren’t listening?”

“I’m sorry, Leah. I was talking to your uncle.” She grabbed
the girl’s hand and led her into the den. “Will you do it again? I’ll watch
this time, too.”

When she looked up from the piano, Craig stood in the foyer,
leaning against the casement in what had become, in Allie’s mind, his spot. No
wonder he was so bitter and brittle, she mused. Weren’t all divorced men
clinging to the only emotion they had left for their ex-wives?

“Dinner’s ready,” he said. When Leah tried to run past, he
stood in her path and mussed her hair. “Wash your hands, squirt.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave a mock salute and had her hands washed
and dried before Allie could do the same at the kitchen sink.

Allie took a seat at the table and felt uncomfortable as the
outsider of the trio. Despite his overbearing manner, Leah seemed as relaxed
with her uncle as she did with her father. She and Craig must spend quite a bit
of time together.

Allie unfolded the paper napkin on her lap. “How’s your
lacrosse team doing, Leah?”

The girl hurriedly swallowed a bite of chicken and washed it
down with a gulp of milk. “We’re two and three, but the games we lost were only
by one point.”

“Leah’s probably the fastest one on the team,” Craig said.
“You should see her motor.”

“Girls didn’t play lacrosse when I was younger. I don’t have
a clue what the rules are.”

“It’s kinda like soccer with sticks,” Craig explained.

“You should watch the boys play, Ms. Allie. They beat the
crap out of each another.”

“Hummm,” Allie said. “Entertaining.”

“They have to wear all these pads.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I’d hate to play like the boys.”

“When I was your age, I lived across the street from three
brothers,” Allie said. “They used to beat each other up on a daily basis, so I
doubt doing it in pads is that big a deal to boys.”

“Where did you grow up?” Craig asked.

Allie wondered what kind of answer to give. Should she
explain about the in-town house she lived in when her parents were married, the
two apartments she was shuffled between during and right after the divorce, or
the in-town condo and suburban house her father and stepmother still lived in,
neither of which felt like home? “Here. Atlanta, I mean.”

“Really?” Craig asked. “You don’t meet many natives,
especially out in the suburbs.”

“I went away for college, but ended back here, even though I
swore I wasn’t ever coming back.”

“What brought you back?” he asked.

“My college roommate. She wanted to live here and I didn’t
want to start over in a new town without her.”

“Where did you go to college?” Leah asked.

“I went to a small music school in Nashville. Melissa, my
roommate, she went to Vanderbilt.”

Craig waved his fork in her direction. “So you’ve always
done the music thing?”

“Yes,” she chuckled and took a sip of wine. “I’ve always
done the music thing.”

“I want to go to Alabama,” Leah announced as she finished
her last bite of chicken and stared at the broccoli on her plate as if it was
radioactive. “Roll Tide!”

“Well, I see your father has gotten his crimson blood in
your veins.”

“Is there any other?” she asked. “Can I be excused, please,
Uncle Craig?”

“You going to do your homework?” he asked.

“I did my math, but I’ve got to study for social studies.”

“Finish your broccoli and you can study.”

She slumped her shoulders and looked up at him from under her
lashes. “I hate broccoli.”

“I had to eat it when I was a kid, so now you do, too,”
Craig explained with glee in his eyes.

“If I eat this, can I have some ice cream for dessert?”

“Who said anything about dessert?” he asked.

“Well,” Leah said, “it’s in the freezer and we’ve got
chocolate sauce in the pantry.”

Craig blew out a breath. “I suppose, but after your
homework.”

She stuffed the three stalks in her mouth at one time and
chewed while holding her nose. “Dad told me you can’t taste it when you hold your
nose,” she explained after swallowing the broccoli and chasing it with milk. “I
can still taste it. Yuck.” She stood up and gathered her plate and utensils.

“Just leave those in the sink,” Craig instructed. “I’ve got
to empty the dish washer.”

Before Leah left the kitchen, she turned at the doorway and
looked at Allie. “Are you going to be here for awhile, Ms. Allie?”

Allie felt put on the spot. She typically helped Mark with
the dishes and stayed to talk after dinner, but couldn’t imagine hanging out with
Craig. “Uh…I probably need to hit the road.”

“Could you come up before you leave?” Leah asked.

The girl wanted to talk, that was crystal clear. “Sure.”
Leah smiled and dashed up the stairs, leaving Allie alone with Craig and only
half finished with her meal. She cleared her throat and took a sip of wine.
He’d finished his first helping and was scooping a second onto his plate. “So,
you must be looking forward to getting back to your own life.”

He dropped the serving spoon and pursed his lips, considering
her question. “Yes and no.”

When he said nothing more, she felt obligated to ask, “Okay,
how yes and how no?”

“Yes, because I get a lot more work done when I set my own
hours. No, because I love Leah and I don’t consider taking care of her a
burden.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you would.”

“I know you didn’t mean to, but I also know that’s what you
thought.”

She set her fork down and took a breath to get a hold on her
temper. What was it about this guy that riled her up every time they spoke more
than two sentences to each other? “Craig, I don’t know anything about your life
or what your burdens may be. I was simply trying to make conversation.”

“So was I. I’m really bad at small talk mostly because I
stopped worrying a long time ago about hurting someone’s feelings when I
speak.”

“How freeing that must be not to concern yourself with
anyone’s feelings.”

He shook his fork at her again before setting it down and
taking a sip of beer. “You know, that right there is exactly why I speak my
mind. That sounded like a simple statement of fact, when it was really an
insult.”

“No, it was a statement of fact. When I insult you, Craig,
trust me, you’ll feel insulted.”

“I wonder,” he said. He pushed his plate away and sat back
in his chair, cradling the beer between his work roughened hands. “Why do you
have to use the Internet to get dates?”

The question was so off-topic, so personal, she merely
stared at him with a bite of chicken dangling in front of her face. “What?”

“You’ve got to know you could snap your fingers and men
would come running, so why do you go to the trouble of dating online?”

“I…it’s complicated.” She set her fork down. “And totally
offensive for you to assume I could snap my fingers and men would line up at my
door.”

“Let me guess,” he said and tipped back in his seat like a
five year old who couldn’t sit still. “You’re picky and don’t want to date
someone without reading over his resume.”

“Actually, I hate online dating.”

“You do?”

“Think about it, smart guy; I know every possible interest
from a guy’s profile. I already know what he likes to eat, how much he
exercises, if he likes pets, and if so, what kind. I know if he likes to read
or watch movies or hang out with friends. I know about the size of his family,
where he’s from, what his religion is, and where he went to college.” She was
on a roll and began ticking her list off on her fingers. “I know if he has
kids, wants kids, hates kids, and I have a decent idea about his dating
history. All I have left to ask is what side of the bed he’d like to sleep on
and believe me, most guys are more than willing to show me.”

She took a deep breath to continue when she realized he was
staring at her with a look of wonder on his face. She felt her cheeks heat,
averted her eyes, and shrugged. “It takes all the fun out of discovering those
things.” He continued to stare at her while casually sipping on his beer. “For
example,” she continued, “this one guy took me out to dinner and ordered
chicken and I already knew it was because he didn’t eat red meat. How boring is
that?”

“Pretty boring.”

“Sorry. Hot button issue with several layers of regressed
anger. I’m not usually this hostile.”

“You mean honest?”

“Well…”

“Look, Allie, I’m not expecting an apology. I told you I
prefer honesty.”

“Then you’d hate online dating.”

The line between his brows was back and he dropped the front
legs of his chair on the tile with a thud. “Well, there goes plan A.”

“Plan A?”

“To tell Mark I’ve signed up for online dating. He’s been on
my back about getting out there. He’s been on my back for years, but ever since
the engagement, and specifically the wedding, he’s really been on my back.”

“What’s plan B?”

“Plan B is to avoid him and the topic for as long as
possible, which is probably the best course of action considering I’m going to
have to make myself scarce after the newlyweds get home.”

“What do you mean?”

“They need time, just the three of them, to figure out how
this is going to work.”

“I’ve never met Carolyn,” Allie said. “But Mark doesn’t seem
like he’d be with a woman who wouldn’t put Leah first. He loves her too much.”

“Yes, he does. Leah doesn’t really know Carolyn either.” He
set his beer on the table and looked into her eyes. “Sorry I jumped on you
about that. Leah wanted to talk about it and I’m glad you were here for her. For
everything.”

“Well.” The apology came out like everything he said:
without preamble and right to the point. He sure knew how to stifle her
instinct to hold a grudge. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“When I’m wrong, I say so.”

“Then I’m waiting for another apology.”

“For?” he asked.

“You seriously don’t know?” When he continued to smirk at
her, she said, “My girls? My outfit? Does any of this ring a bell?”

“You want me to apologize for being honest?”

“No, I want you to apologize for being crude.”

“They don’t call it the ugly truth for nothing.” He stood up
and carried his empty plate to the sink. “You seem like the kind of woman who
wants to be heard. You could have any man you want, and what you want is for
someone to listen. You weren’t going to get that—you’re never going to
get that—dressed like you were.” He held up his hands. “It’s not because
your outfit was offensive or slutty, but because it’s the cross you bear for
the way you look.”

What was she supposed to say to that? It wasn’t a compliment
and it certainly wasn’t an apology, but he’d hit on her biggest weakness with
men. She
did
want to be heard.

She stood up and brought her plate to the sink. He turned
around and leaned his hip against the counter so they were face to face. “I
think you should try online dating, Craig.”

“I thought you said I’d hate it.”

“You would, but I think you need some interaction with the
opposite sex. By not getting back out there, you’ve forgotten how to
communicate with women.”

He straightened into a cocksure position. “You think I don’t
know how to communicate with women?”

“You had a wife at some point, so I’m pretty sure you did.
Let’s just say you’re a little rusty.”

“Because you don’t like what I have to say?”

She patted his shoulder. “You can’t prove me wrong until you
get back out there.”

***

Leah looked up from her notes on the forms of democracy when
she heard a faint knock on the door. “Come in,” she said.

Allie poked her head through. “You busy?”

Leah patted a spot on the bed in invitation for Allie to
join her. She watched as Allie hiked up her fancy pants and sat Indian style
facing Leah. “How’s the studying going?”