Page 65 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
Peg laughed. “I’m a little longer in the tooth than your physical therapist is too.” She went back to her desk and grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer. “I better head out. My other half signed us up for ballroom dancing lessons, if you can believe it. I swear I could be married to that man for a hundred years and he’d still find ways to surprise me yet. G’night, Henry. Oh—” She snapped her fingers and paused in the doorway. “One other thing. I went ahead and applied for that Charles Henderson grant I kept telling you about that you kept ignoring me about, so hopefully we hearsomething back in the next couple of weeks. You’re welcome and good night.”
“The what grant? Charles who? Peg—”
She slipped out, waving her fingers with a saucy smile, before slamming the door shut behind her. “Peg,” he growled.That woman.
Henry sank back in his chair. She never was one to pull any punches, was she?
But what if she was right? Not about the grant. He didn’t even know what she was talking about. But what if he hadn’t completely blown it with Edith? Was he so used to beating himself up he’d automatically assumed he’d done something wrong?
He winced. Hehaddone something wrong. He’d lied. To Edith about his real identity. To Steve about his relationship with Edith. And now half the town assumed he was taking liberties with Edith he had no right to take.
Why didn’t he set the record straight the other morning at the coffee shop?
Henry palmed his eyes and groaned. Why didn’t he set the record straight weeks ago at the coffee shop when Angela told him they needed to decide where their relationship was heading?
Judging by the sparse amount of text messages between them, he didn’t imagine there was going to be any great love lost on her end. Even so. He owed her an apology.
If he wanted to be the type of man Peg claimed he was, a man worthy of Edith, it was past time he started acting like that man.
Edith stifled a curse word. Sweat no longer trickled down her back. It poured. And she still didn’t have the car seat secured.
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” she muttered as she dug her fingers into the back seat, searching for the clip to latch the car seat on to. The small quarters of the car and the sweltering humidity were not making the process as easy as the instruction manual suggested it would be.
At least Edith had learned a valuable lesson. The next time the social worker forgot to bring a car seat to the crisis nursery house, Edith wasn’t going to offer to install the spare they kept in the storage room. No sir. Next time she was going to jump in the bushes and hide until the social worker either retired or died.
With the clasp finally latched, Edith shook the car seat side to side. Seemed secure. She straightened out of the car and fanned herself with her shirt. The cocker spaniel next door had flopped onto his back in the grass, panting with all four paws spread wide. “I’m right there with you, buddy,” Edith told him.
The heat this week had been relentless. Edith didn’t want to run up Kat’s power bill, so she’d left the air-conditioning off. But every afternoon she wilted worse than the potted red geraniums on the crisis nursery’s front porch.
“Thanks for doing that, Edith.” The social worker, a middle-aged woman with wavy brown hair and a tired smile, held the hand of a two-year-old boy who had been dropped off at the house late last night. “It saved me a trip, and I want to get Tyler to his foster home soon as I can.”
“Sure.” Edith blew her bangs from her forehead. “No problem. Anything else I can do before you go?”
“No. I think we’re set.” She settled the young boy into his car seat and tightened the straps. When she closed the door, she lowered her voice and stepped closer to Edith. “Just to give you fair warning, it wouldn’t surprise me if Tyler’s dad shows up at some point looking for him since he knows Tyler has been brought here before. If he does, just call the police.”
Edith’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay.” Her first experience with an actual child and she was already wishing for the plants.
“Sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. I just know you’re new and work the night shift alone, so I wanted you to be prepared if that should happen.”
“Right. Thank you. I appreciate that.” Edith waved to the little boy already nodding off in the car seat as they pulled away.
After Sharon and the day crew arrived a little while later and were caught up to date on the early morning activities, Edith left for Kat’s house. She had given up her morning coffee routine at Julie’s shop, too afraid of running into Henry. It was easier to tell herself she’d only imagined the connection between them instead of seeing him and having to face it head-on.
Although the fact he hadn’t tried contacting her since the evening at the ballpark made her wonder if perhaps she had imagined it.
Edith unlocked Kat’s door and kicked off her shoes, immediately going to the refrigerator for something cold and refreshing. Something to take her mind off the smotheringself-doubt suffocating her peace of mind worse than the hot air in Kat’s upstairs bedroom.
Was she truly that unlovable? Past experience suggested she was. People didn’t seem to have any trouble turning their backs on her, did they?
Edith sat down at the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands. “Stop it,” she told herself. “You’re just tired.” She fanned her shirt away from herself. “And hot. That’s no reason to throw yourself a pity party. Not when there’s a two-year-old little boy being driven hours away to some stranger’s house because his own parents can’t get it together. So knock it off. You have nothing to feel sorry about.”
Edith gulped down her glass of iced tea. The image of Tyler, asleep in the back seat, his face full of innocence despite the trials his short life had already thrown at him, stayed with her as she tried to catch some sleep in Kat’s room with two fans blowing on her.
“That’s it.” Edith flung herself out of bed. She was never going to get any sleep at this rate. She searched Kat’s house until she found what she was looking for. And then before she could question herself, she wrote a letter to Henry and dropped it in the mail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A marble fountain, flanked with ferns, bubbled in the center of the hotel lobby. Henry stood with his hands in his pocket, letting his gaze sweep over the sleek contemporary furniture and Asian art. A coffee bar lined the wall. He was just thinking about fixing a cup when the short quick pace of click-clacking heels grabbed his attention.
