Unraveled (12 page)

She watched Steve take a drink from his ale, then nod and smile at the woman. A blonde, of course, Kelly thought wryly. She’d always suspected Steve had a weakness for blondes. Probing her computer-file memory, Kelly thought the woman worked for a large Denver development firm, like Overby Associates. Steve worked for Sam Kaufman’s smaller company.

Just then, the blonde gave Steve a nod and a smile, then turned and walked away. At that moment, Steve tipped back his ale and turned toward Kelly. Kelly held still, wondering if he would even notice her in the crowd. She was curious as to his reaction, if any.

She didn’t have to wait long. Steve looked toward the atrium and spotted her. Kelly could tell the moment he did. She could feel it. Steve stared at her, not moving. Kelly held her ground and stared back. Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again, but he didn’t move.

Curious, Kelly held his gaze, wondering what he’d do. Would Steve turn away? Follow the blonde? Wave at her like old friends in passing? What was that Pete said? “Two ships passing in the night.”

Or, would he try to talk to her? Actually walk across the room and say hello? Didn’t her friends say Steve wanted to apologize? Well, here was his chance, standing right in front of him. Kelly continued to hold her gaze, waiting for Steve to make the first move. She certainly wasn’t. He walked out on her, for Pete’s sake.

Steve continued to stare, then opened his mouth again. But it was too late. Kelly heard her name being called. Her Warner colleagues beckoned. She broke her gaze at last and saw Dave Germaine walk up to her.

“Hey, Kelly. Some of us can’t take chicken anymore, so we’re going over to Landry’s Steakhouse. Want to join us?” Dave asked with a friendly smile. “You know, it’s over on Sixteenth Street.”

Kelly welcomed the suggestion, not only for the promise of prime beef but also as a way to break the uncomfortable connection with Steve. “That’s a fantastic idea. I don’t think I can stand another Chicken Surprise.”

“Me, either. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Dave beckoned her toward the hotel’s front lobby and exit, placing his hand on Kelly’s back as they walked. “Some of us are going to leave our cars here for now. Want to share a cab?”

Kelly checked her watch. Waiting for other people to wind down might take a lot longer than she wanted. Her regular room was waiting for her at the Cherry Creek Inn . . . and so was the Jacuzzi tub in the luxurious bathroom. She would need that relaxation even more tonight.

“I think I’ll go ahead and take my car, Dave. I may have to leave earlier than everyone else.”

Dave grimaced as they neared the revolving door. “Don’t tell me you’re going to work tonight. I was hoping you’d go out with me for a drink after dinner.”

Kelly pushed through the doorway and waited for Dave. She had promised herself she’d accept the next time he asked her to join him. After-dinner drinks wasn’t a bad idea, and it was an easy way to gradually reenter the dating world. She’d promised Jennifer that she would, and Kelly always kept her promises. Plus, she didn’t want to lose her nerve.

“You know, the Cherry Creek Inn has a really nice quiet bar. I stay there regularly whenever I’m in Denver late. Why don’t you drive over after the dinner, and I’ll meet you in the bar.” Kelly said with a friendly smile. Not too friendly, though. She didn’t want Dave to get any ideas. Not those kind of ideas, at least. Not now. The future, well, that was something else.

Dave’s grin spread, and he wiped pretend sweat from his forehead. “Whew! I thought you were going to shoot me down again. Cherry Creek Inn bar, it is.”

Kelly turned toward the parking lot. “Save a seat for me at the table, okay? I’ll be there as soon as traffic allows.”

“You got it,” Dave said, snapping out a quick salute as he turned toward the Warner folk already assembling at the hotel entrance while taxis lined up.

Steve
stood there and watched Kelly walk away . . . with another guy. He felt like a mule kicked him in the gut.
Hard
. He hadn’t seen Kelly in six months, then suddenly, there she was. Several feet away. Standing there looking at him. And all he could do was stare back and say nothing. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t yell his apology across the hotel bar. So, he just stared at her. Like an idiot. He couldn’t even make himself move. It was like he was struck dumb by the sight of her.

He was worse than dumb. He was a
total
idiot. There she was, standing only twenty feet away, and he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even move.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He stood there and watched while another guy walked away with her. And she never even looked back at him. Not once.

That invisible mule kicked Steve in the gut again, harder this time.
Damn!
He was stupid beyond belief. No wonder Kelly walked away with that other guy. Steve was standing there like a moron, unable to say anything to the woman he loved. Still loved. Still ached for.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He must be losing his mind.

Who was that guy anyway? He looked familiar. Damn, Kelly looked fantastic. She’d changed her hair. Not much, but a little. It looked great all the same. She looked great.
Damn!
He was a fool.

That mule kick must have loosened those old memories he tried to hide, because they washed over Steve in a torrent now. A tsunami. Memories of Steve and Kelly together, laughing with friends, running in the mornings by the Poudre River, playing ball, lying in bed, making love....

“Steve, I called Bill, our construction manager,” the blonde woman said as she walked up to him. “He said he had a gross more of those drywall sheets in the warehouse and would be grateful if you and Sam could take them off his books.”

Steve shook off the memories, giving thanks for a welcome respite. “Uhhh, thanks, Cathy. I’ll tell Sam tomorrow. We’ll send one of the guys over.”

The blonde looked over Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, it looks like everyone’s heading into dinner. I’ll see you at the next meeting, okay? My husband’s picking me up out front in five minutes, and we’re going to my little girl’s school concert.” She shoved her cell phone into her purse.

“Thanks, again, Cathy. Have fun with your family,” Steve said. Then he turned and hurried to join his colleagues and the banquet dinner. Anything to keep those memories away.

Kelly
dug into her purse looking for car keys as she walked through the hotel’s outside parking lot. Spitty light snow had started falling. Little flakes, but steady. She was glad she’d decided to stay over at the hotel tonight. Colorado’s light snows had a habit of turning heavier late at night, which made for slick highways and more treacherous drives especially over a distance like that to Fort Connor.

She flicked the car lock and watched her car’s lights flash up ahead through the snowflakes. As she approached her car, she heard the throaty rumble of a truck engine revving up. Bright red taillights flashed on as a big black truck backed out of a space a few yards ahead. That sound always caught Kelly’s attention. It sounded exactly like Steve’s truck, the same big engine revving . . . and it always brought back memories.

The truck backed out of its parking place, turned, and lumbered in the other direction. Then, something caught her eye. The color red. In the space next to the now-empty parking spot sat a big red truck. Exactly like Steve’s. Kelly stared at the truck. Maybe it was Steve’s. After all, he was inside the hotel.

Kelly started to approach her car again, then stopped. For some reason she wanted to know if it was Steve’s truck. She flipped up the hood on her black belted raincoat and walked down the parking lane. She checked the license plate. It was Steve’s truck, all right. Kelly walked around to the driver’s side. She didn’t know why. She just felt like it. Looking through the window she saw Steve’s briefcase on the passenger seat. Empty coffee mugs in the cup holder. Lots of clutter was scattered around. Steve had gotten messier these last few months, she noticed. He used to keep his truck neater.

Feeling the tug of old memories wanting her to indulge them, Kelly pushed them away. Then, another memory floated up. A musical memory. The lyrics of a popular country pop song that rode the charts a while back. The woman’s strong voice sang in Kelly’s mind, lyrics that suddenly seemed to apply now.

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive . . . a Louisville Slugger to both headlights . . .

Staring at Steve’s truck as the singer’s voice sounded inside her head, Kelly had to smile. She kept a Louisville Slugger baseball bat in her car trunk all the time. You never knew when a pickup game would happen. Would she do it?

Kelly trailed her finger through the snow on the side of the red truck. Was she tempted? Maybe . . . a little. But no. She wasn’t going to trash Steve’s truck. She turned back to her own sporty red car and flicked the lights again.

That was the thing about country music. All those songs about love lost and found, thrown away, or wasted chances. Once in everybody’s lifetime, they seemed to apply. She guessed it was her turn.

Nine

Kelly
balanced her coffee mug in one hand while she dug her phone out of her jeans pocket. She thought she’d heard its distinctive beep. No hands left, she shoved Lambspun’s heavy front door open with her hip.

Kelly stamped the slight snow from her boots on the coarse mat in the knit shop foyer, then stopped and took in the color. Green, green, everywhere. Saint Patrick’s Day was coming and Lambspun was awash in green of every hue and shade. Lambspun’s shop elves must have turned into leprechauns overnight.

Kelly paused beside an open straw basket with a pink stuffed rabbit standing beside it. Inside the basket, mixed in with the variegated green yarns, were several bright yellow plastic eggs.

There were baskets and bins filled with every shade of green. Lining the walls, sitting on top of chests and dressers, spread on the maple center table, and peeking out from the antique dry sink. Early spring grass. Snow still may be on the ground outside, but inside the shop, spring had sprung. Kelly fingered the various green yarns, feeling the delicious caress of silk, the luscious brush of mohair.

She wandered into the central yarn room ahead where shelves and yarn bins lined every wall. Spring colors spilled forth from every opening. Cottons, crispy and springy. Cottons spun with bamboo, softer yet still crisp. Mohair and silk, spun together into luscious violets and pinks. Kelly took turns stroking each yarn, enjoying the sensuous feel of the fibers. Glancing toward the main room, Kelly noticed Lisa was already at the table knitting. Lizzie sat beside her, and at the end of the table was Eustace, typing away on his laptop.

Trailing her fingers past bins of hand-dyed silk, Kelly indulged herself a moment longer, then remembered her phone. Sure enough, the little green light was blinking. She touched the menu bar of her smartphone to check the recent message. Megan had called a few moments ago. Kelly touched the message on the screen to return the call. Megan picked up quickly.

“Hey, there, I saw you called. What’s up?” Kelly said, fondling a ball of soft pink-and-white mohair.

“Are you working at home or at the shop by any chance? I can’t remember your schedule,” Megan asked.

“Actually, I’ve been at home all morning on the computer, and I stepped into the shop this minute to take a short break before returning to my accounts. Do you need something ?”

“Yes. Please grab two skeins of that shamrock green Lamb’s Pride wool in the other room. I’ll need it to finish this sweater, and I don’t want to risk the shop running out, especially now with the Saint Paddy’s Day sale going on.”

“Will do, let me check to see if it’s there. I’ve gotta dump my things first.” Kelly plopped her knitting bag and mug on the library table, then gave a little wave to her friends seated there before approaching the bins of Lamb’s Pride wools. The shamrock green stood out. Three skeins left. “Perfect timing,” she told Megan as she grabbed two soft skeins. “I’ll leave them up front, okay? Are you coming in?”

“Maybe. I’m swamped with a report my client wants by tomorrow. And I’m pushing to get work done ahead, so I can grab some time to go shopping again.”

That didn’t sound like Megan. She wasn’t much of a shopper. “What are you shopping for?” Kelly asked as she headed through the adjacent yarn rooms toward the front of the shop and the counters.

“Three guesses, and they all begin with white or lace or satin. Gauzy stuff.”

“Ohhhh, you must mean wedding gowns. That’s right, you’re coming up on that six-month deadline. Remember, the wedding shop lady said you needed six months or more to have a gown delivered,” Kelly said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Megan said. Kelly could hear the frown in Megan’s voice.

“It’s crunch time,” Kelly couldn’t resist. “You’ve gotta pick something.”

“I know, I know. But I’m so busy, I don’t want to take the time to go. Plus, you guys are way too busy to come with me. Jennifer’s working more hours at the café, and Lisa’s got tight class and work schedules, and you . . . you’re in Denver all the time anyway.”

“That’s right, you haven’t checked out those Denver shops yet,” Kelly reminded. “Better do it soon, Megan. They’ll surely have something you like.”

“I’ve heard that before. We’ll see.”

“When are you thinking of going?”

“I can’t this weekend, because Marty and I are going over to his parents’. And I can’t afford time off from working, so maybe next weekend. Listen, another call is coming in. Talk to you later. Thanks, Kelly.”

“Sure thing,” Kelly said, then clicked off her phone as she reached the front counter. Longtime shop assistant Connie was alone at the register, and—magically—there wasn’t a line of customers. “Hey, Connie, Megan wants you to hold these two skeins for her. She’ll be in tomorrow maybe.”

“No problem,” middle-aged Connie said as she took the yarns. “I’ll put them in a bag with Megan’s name on it. She’s smart to save some. The greens are disappearing. How’re you doing, Kelly? You still working a lot in Denver?”