Page 22 of Summer Weddings
“Then what are you doing with your head under the table?”
“I don’t suppose you’d believe my napkin fell off my lap?”
“No.”
A pair of shiny black shoes appeared. Slowly, Robin twisted her head and glanced upward, squinting at the flash of sunlight that nearly blinded her. It was their waiter. Heaving a giant sigh of relief,Robin straightened. The first thing she noticed was that Cole had left.
The huge shrimp salads were all but forgotten as Angela, eyes narrowed and elbows braced on the table, confronted her. “You saw him, didn’t you?”
There was no point in pretending otherwise, so Robin nodded.
“He was with someone?”
“Not just someone! The most beautiful woman in the world was draped all over his arm.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Angela said. “Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions? Honestly, she could’ve been anyone.”
“Uh-huh.” Any fight left in Robin had long since evaporated. There was nothing like seeing Cole with another woman to bring her firmly back to earth—which was right where she belonged.
“She could’ve been a client.”
“She probably was,” Robin concurred, reaching for her fork. She didn’t know how she was going to manage one shrimp, let alone a whole plate of them. Heaving another huge sigh, she plowed her fork into the heap of plump pink darlings. It was then that she happened to glance across the street. Cole and Ms. Gorgeous were walking along the sidewalk, engrossed in their conversation. For some reason, known only to the fates, Cole looked across the street at that very moment. His gaze instantly narrowed on her. He stopped midstride as though shocked to have seen her.
Doing her best to pretend she hadn’t seenhim,Robin took another bite of her salad and chewed vigorously. When she glanced up again, Cole was gone.
* * *
“Mom, I need someone to practice with,” Jeff pleaded. He stood forlornly in front of her, a baseball mitt in one hand, a ball in the other.
“I thought Jimmy was practicing with you.”
“He had to go home and then Kelly threw me a few pitches, but she had to go home, too. Besides, she’s a girl.”
“And what am I?” Robin muttered.
“You’re a mom,” Jeff answered, clearly not understanding her question. “Don’t you see? I’ve got a chance of making pitcher for our team if I can get someone to practice with me.”
“All right,” Robin agreed, grumbling a bit. She set aside her knitting and followed her son into the backyard. He handed her his old catcher’s mitt, which barely fit her hand, and positioned her with her back to Cole’s yard.
Robin hadn’t been able to completely avoid her neighbor in the past week, but she’d succeeded in keeping her distance. For that matter, he didn’t seem all that eager to run into her, either. Just as well, she supposed.
He stayed on his side of the hedge. She stayed on hers.
If he passed her on his way to work, he gave an absent wave. She returned the gesture.
If they happened to be outside at the same time, they exchanged smiles and a polite greeting, but nothing more. It seemed, although Robin couldn’t be sure, that Cole spent less time outside than usual. So did she.
“Okay,” Jeff called, running to the end of their yard. “Squat down.”
“I beg your pardon?” Robin shouted indignantly. “I agreed to play catch with you. You didn’t say anything about having to squat!”
“Mom,” Jeff said impatiently, “think about it. If I’m going to be the pitcher, you’ve got to be the catcher, and catchers have to be low to the ground.”
Complaining under her breath, Robin sank to her knees, worried the grass would stain her jeans.
Jeff tossed his arms into the air in frustration. “Not like that!”He said something else that Robin couldn’t quite make out—something about why couldn’t moms be guys.
Reluctantly, Robin assumed the posture he wanted, but she didn’t know how long her knees would hold out. Jeff wound up his arm and let loose with a fastball. Robin closed her eyes, stuck out the mitt and was so shocked when she caught the ball that she toppled backward into the wet grass.
