Page 11 of No Kind of Hero
“On the other hand,” he said, setting each word down like he was deliberately planting them, “there’s the new resort. All those rich guys. NFL players. Doctors.”
“Oh.” She looked at her milkshake again. “That’s true. I went out with a doctor last night, in fact. Maybe you know that.”
“I didn’t. Now I do, though.”
“You say that like it proves something. About what? My gold-digger status? Here you go, then. Perfect example. On the one hand, there’s what I know I should say. On the other hand, there’s the truth.”
“Which is?”
“What Ishouldsay is something that would save my pride. The truth is that we fizzled out like a firecracker in the rain. If Dr. Anderson St. Clair and I were chemistry partners, we’d have gotten an F.”
“Anderson St. Clair? That his real name?”
She smiled, and it looked good again. It made her look less tired. Well, he couldn’t help but notice. “Yeah. At least that’s what he said. Who names their baby ‘Anderson’? And then doesn’t call him ‘Andy’? But then, who would make that up?”
She seemed to catch herself, looking down at her milkshake as if it were interesting. It was only half-gone, which Evan couldn’t say about his own. She said, “I should get going,” then stood up, picked up her trash and the dog’s leash, which woke the dog up, and then she stood there, practically jumping from foot to foot, while the dog stretched and shook and generally let it be known that he’d been having too nice a nap to wake up that fast.
“Me too,” Evan said, and went to get the stroller.
“I’m this way,” she said. It was the same direction he was headed, so he kept on with her. She was silent, which was fine. They’d said enough that it wouldn’t bother him anymore to see her. She was just some girl he’d once known, with a life that couldn’t be more different from his own.
“So you said you were done with a painting job,” she said. “What’s next?”
Making conversation,he thought.Polite to the help, like her mother taught her.“Painting the interior of the old movie theater. They’re doing a remodel.”
“Oh.” He had a feeling she was going to ask him some Queen of England question, like, “And do you enjoy your work, Mr. O’Donnell?” But instead, she stopped and said, “This is me.”
A metallic-gray Audi SUV, looking like it had rolled off the dealer’s lot three months ago. He said, “Looks like a lawyer car.”
“For estate planning, it is. It has to be a luxury car, because you want the client to think you’re good at your job. But a Mercedes or a BMW could say, ‘I’m overcharging you.’ My dad’s advice, borne out by the company parking lot.”
“And gray . . .”
“Well, gray naturally,” she said solemnly, then smiled at him. “Isn’t that stupid? I also can’t have red nails.”
“Do you want red nails?” They wouldn’t really suit her.
“No. I want . . . oh, charcoal gray. Lavender. Navy with a little glitter in it, if I got all crazy. Who knows?”
“Gray nails,” he said. “Different from a gray car.”
“Exactly.See? Exactly.”
“Guess you should probably buy some nail polish, then.”
She looked startled, like it hadn’t occurred to her, then said, “Guess you’re right.”
He said goodbye to her, walked home with Gracie still sleeping in the stroller, and thought,But you’re still driving an Audi, you’re still a lawyer, and you’re still listening to your parents. No matter what kind of nail polish you buy.
Beth stood, her keys in her hand, and watched Evan walk away pushing the stroller. Another man might not have been able to look tough—all right, hot—doing that, but Evan did. Maybe it was the size of him, maybe it was his shoulders, or maybe it was the way he stood up so straight and didn’t smile. Evan was quiet, but he never looked casual. Something about his stillness, maybe, and his reserve. When he walked into a room, you noticed him.
Or maybe that was just her.
She opened the back door of the car, and Henry jumped up on the seat. Too hot in there, though. She’d need to blast the A/C.
She didn’t. She didn’t even unclip Henry’s leash from his collar. Instead, she told him “Down,” shut the door again as soon as he leaped to the pavement, and took off the way they’d come. Back toward the drugstore.
Maybe she should feel bad about dragging Henry all over town, but he wasn’t complaining. Anyway, he was all right. He’d had a long drink of water and a swim in the creek after their hike, and it wasn’t like he had something better to do.
