Page 59 of The Pink House

Bidding good-bye to Lydia, Hannah slung her bag over her shoulder. She’d taken a risk by contacting Lydia. While it hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped, it hadn’t been painful.

She thought of her conversation with Maisie, about how people change over time and how that was okay. If future encounters with high school friends were like today’s, well, she’d figure out a way to find new friends. Ones who matched the woman she was now, rather than the girl she’d once been. Ones with whom she shared common interests, rather than simply a shared history.

Thankfully, she had Mackenna and Emma.

When Hannah arrived home, her heart gave an excited leap at the sight of Charlie’s truck in his driveway. She briefly considered going over to say hello, but squelched the impulse.

Just because she found herself at loose ends didn’t give her the right to impose herself on others.

There was still a lot of work to do on the house, but when Hannah stepped inside, instead of changing out of her workout gear, she poured herself a large glass of lemonade and took it, along with Brian’s letter, to the porch.

Fishing on Pigeon Creek at dawn.

Hannah had never been fishing. She didn’t even know how one went about fishing. Were worms always part of the experience? She grimaced at the thought of putting a barb through a living creature.

“What’s that look for?”

She jerked her head up, and there he was, looking appealing in worn jeans and a T-shirt.

Hannah lowered the letter. “Hey, you. Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”

If it wouldn’t have been even more lame, Hannah would have groaned aloud. She’d made it sound as if she’d missed him.

“Lots to do lately,” was all he said.

She stopped herself—thank goodness she still possessed some restraint—from asking about his schoolteacher girlfriend.

“Me, too.” She rested her back against the swing. “I met up with Lydia Poggemeyer at the Y today.”

Obviously taking the comment as an invitation to stay, Charlie sat in one of the chairs. “Should that name mean something to me?”

“Probably not. We were friends in high school.”

“How was it?” At her blank look, he rolled one hand. “Going down the ‘remember when’ route.”

“Actually, I spent most of the time listening to her efforts to potty train her three-year-old.”

Charlie chuckled. “Sounds like fun.”

“Not so much.” Hannah was tempted to say more, but stopped herself. “It was nice to catch up, but I think it was obvious to both of us that we’re at different points in our lives.”

“I hear you.” Charlie nodded. “There were guys I played ball with in high school. Back then, we were all really tight. Now, unless we’re talking football, we really don’t have much to say to each other.”

“She wanted to set me up with some friends of Tim’s. That’s her husband,” Hannah blurted.

Charlie inclined his head, the look in his brown eyes giving nothing away. “Are you going to let her?”

Hannah made a dismissive sound. “Do you know what she said when I told her I wasn't interested?” She continued, not waiting for Charlie to respond. “She said it had been a year. Like there's some timetable I’m supposed to follow.”

“That isn’t why you told her you weren’t interested.”

“What other reason could there be?”

“Lots of them.” Charlie lifted a hand and began counting off on his fingers. “For starters, you don’t like being pushed. I’m guessing by her mentioning it had been a year, she came across as pushy. Am I right?”

Hannah expelled a breath. “Yes. What else?”

He smiled slightly. “You don’t know her husband, or you do know him and don’t like him. Either way, you don’t trust his judgment.”

---