Page 106 of Getting Lucky

Another laugh ripped out of her. “Dustin, you excel at reading psychic energy.”

He puffed up like bread dough left out in the sun. “I’ve always thought so. River’s aunt gave me some suggestions the last time she came around.”

“Sounds like Dottie.”

“Well, if you need to talk, I’m two shakes of a dog’s tail away,” he said, laughing at his own attempted pun. “And if you need to leave, I’d be happy to take over.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she said, meaning it.

He started to back out of the room but paused in the doorway. “For what it’s worth, I hope you work it out, and not just because Iris knows how to make Beatrice laugh. There’s something else I’ve read in your psychic energy—and Jack’s. He’s good for you. And he looks like a young Marlon Brando…you know, with dark hair.”

Her heart was pounding in her ears, but she tilted her head and gave him a vacant look. “Who’s that?”

“What?” he said, looking thunderstruck. “You don’t know…” Her small smile finally penetrated. “Oh, you’re messing with me. Well, you know where I am.”

“I do.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving her alone with the stockings. Only a few left. What would she do afterward? She could go home to Einstein and Chaco, but the prospect of spending the night sitting by the tree, alone, knowing her friends were at the partywith Jackmade her feel frozen inside. Maybe she should take the tree down so there wouldn’t be such an ever-present reminder of him, but somehow she knew that would be worse.

Her phone buzzed again, and she drew it out with trembling fingers. She’d stopped thinking Jack would call. He had to be at the brewery now, making last-minute preparations.

He wouldn’t want her there, probably. He’d said he wanted space. Time. Obviously, a few hours didn’t qualify.

She’d thought about calling Molly back and telling her everything, but she hadn’t. Because Molly was more sensitive than most people realized, and she’d think it was her fault. And Maisie wanted her tolikeJack, because she still thought, she still hoped…

The text was from Blue.

Are we still on for the party? Ended up throwing away the shoes, but I didn’t like them anyway.

Shoot. She’d forgotten she was supposed to call Blue today. Blue likely wouldn’t want to go to the party if Maisie didn’t. Adalia was Georgie’s sister, and she’d probably be tied up the majority of the night. The last thing Maisie wanted to do was spend the night pretending to like drippy Dan, an uncharitable thought she forgave herself for given the circumstances, but shewouldlike to talk to Blue. Blue was a good listener, and she was removed enough from the situation that she could be counted on to give impartial advice, unlike Dottie and Adalia, who had both made it very clear they wanted Maisie and Jack together.

Rather than text back, she called her, and Blue answered on the first ring.

“How’d it go with Jack last night?” she asked excitedly. “I was going to ask you more questions, but then…well, you know.”

Of course, that was when the tears decided to make another showing.

“I’m in love with him,” she said through sobs. “But I think I lost him. I think he’s gone for good.”

And then she told her everything.

* * *

“We can still change our minds and go to a bar,” Maisie offered as Blue parked in a lot close to the brewery. Drippy Dan had been told to stay at home, not that he’d minded.

There you go, making assumptions again.

But at least she hadn’t bad-mouthed him to Blue. She’d just thanked her, profusely, for listening to her fall apart. And for being enough of a friend to tell her it was more important for her to change her animal-hair-encrusted clothes than to be on time for the party. Blue had come to the shelter with a silky green dress, and Dustin had played Madonna’s “Vogue” on his phone while Maisie changed. There was no getting past the fact that she had sensible wooden clogs on her feet, but Dustin had taken one look at her and insisted no one was going to look at her feet. He’d then sent them out the door with a couple of Danishes and hollered, “You go get your man!” like he thought he was in a romantic comedy.

“Wearegoing to a bar,” Blue said, returning her mind to the present. “I assume there’ll be beer.” She made a face. “Although maybe someone should cut Adalia’s brother off this time.”

“Fair point. But just in case, maybe you should stay out of spew range.”

“If he shows up,” Blue said quietly.

And Maisie nodded and repeated it. “If he shows up.”

It wasn’t her place to tell Blue his secrets, so she hadn’t, but for all his flaws, Lee wasn’t a drunk, she didn’t think, nor did he have a fetish for ruining women’s shoes. So she hadn’t felt she was making excuses for him when she’d told Blue that he was going through a hard time. A really hard time.

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