“So I'm just ugly drunk at the end of the night and I know I can't drive back here,” she continued. “I don't know anyone at the bar. The few friends I did know had already gone home. So I called Harvey.” A thin smile crossed her lips. “I knew he was around and I knew he'd come get me. He told me he'd be there in fifteen minutes, so I went outside and waited and tried not to fall over.”

Delilah wrung her hands a little more and glanced back at the concrete floor. A trail of ants followed the seam in the pavement, disappearing into a tiny crack. “So Harvey shows up and loads me into his car. Tells me he'll bring me back to get my car the next day. I'm three sheets to the wind and just trying not to pass out in his passenger seat.” She sighed. “We drive back to Windy Vista and he helps me out of the truck. Because I needed help. I could barely stand.” She shook her head, clearly embarrassed at the memory. “So he's kind of shuffling me along toward my cabin and I stop and try to kiss him.” She cringed. “I tried to kiss him.”

There didn't seem to be any pleasure in the retelling at all and I didn't think it was because she was telling it to someone she didn't know that well. I thought she was cringing because she couldn't believe she'd acted like that.

“I don't know why I did it. He'd always been like a son to me, which just makes the whole thing creepy and horrible. But he was taking care of me and I didn't have a man in my life doing that sort of thing for me, you know? I just...I wanted to thank him somehow, and that was the way I thought to do it.” She sighed and shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. “Anyway, he stopped me before I could really make a fool of myself and helped get me into my cabin. He laid me down on the couch, covered me with a blanket and sat there until I passed out. Which was probably about two minutes.” She took a deep breath and scratched at her knee. “Next morning, he comes by to check on me and I can't apologize enough for making a fool of myself. Harvey being Harvey, he just blew it off, told me it was no big deal and said he wasn't giving it a second thought.” She paused and the corners of her mouth twitched. “And that was it. It was never awkward and he forgave me for acting like an idiot. I finally got over it, too, and chalked it up to just being one of those stupid things we do that we have to learn to live with.”

My list of stupid things included something far worse—marrying Thornton ranked right up there at the top—so I understood completely.

“So we were never together,” she said, glancing at me. “We were never a couple. We were never anything other than friends.”

“So how did it get so blown out of proportion?” I asked. “It doesn't sound like Harvey was the kind of guy who'd go around telling people what happened.”

“He wasn't,” she told me. “But several people saw him unloading my drunk self out of his car that night. They saw him take me in...and then stay for a bit. And they've seen us spend a lot of time together over the years. They all jumped to the conclusions they wanted to jump to.”

I nodded. I knew how easy it was for people to make assumptions.

She shook her head ruefully. “Even when Harvey went out with the twins, people were wondering why I wasn't angry that he was supposedly cheating on me. As if someone like Harvey would ever be interested in an old biddy like me.” She let out a soft chuckle at the thought. “I denied it for so long and then I just finally gave up even addressing it. I clearly wasn't going to change what people thought, so I  let people think what they wanted to think. There was nothing else to do.” She smiled at me. “So there's your answer.”

“You didn't owe me an answer, Delilah,” I said. “You really didn't.”

“I know,” she said. “But it feels good to be able to share the truth and know there's a shot that person will believe what you say.”

“Well, then I'm glad you told me,” I said. “And I do believe you.”

“Thank you.” She slapped her palms to her thighs and rubbed them on her shorts. “Alright. Now I really need to get things rolling here. Thank you for listening to an old lady.”

“Any time,” I said.

Delilah stood. “Well, I'll make sure there aren't more times. You're here on vacation. You need to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” I said. “Jake and I both are.”

“Good,” she said. She frowned then. “Oh. I meant to ask you about the tow truck yesterday. Something wrong with your car?”

It was my opening to tell her about the tire slashing but I decided to keep my mouth shut. She didn't need anything else to worry about. “Just a flat tire. We had it towed to a local shop and they're bringing it back for us. Today some time, I think.”

“Probably Clarence,” she said, nodding her head. “He's got a place in the next town over that does repair work. He'll have it fixed for you in no time.” She worried her lip. “I hope you weren't needing it to go do stuff. You can always borrow my car if you need to...”

“No, no,” I said, holding up my hand. “We're just fine right here.”

“Good,” she said.

As if on cue, a tow truck lumbered toward the front gate from the main road, our shiny rental attached to the back.

“That was fast,” I commented.

“Clarence does good work.” Delilah waved at the driver, a balding man with a handlebar mustache, and pressed the button on the remote. “And he doesn't get much work up this way.”

“Bringing this back to your place,” Clarence called from his open window. “Belongs to some gal staying there?”

Delilah nodded and motioned to me. “She's right here.”

I waved. “Thank you,” I called.

“You betcha,” he said. He shifted the truck back into gear and made his way up the hill.

“Guess you aren't stuck here, after all,” Delilah said, smiling. Her eyes drifted over me and toward the road and the smile disappeared. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

I followed her gaze. A silver Suburban was turning into the gravel lot at the end of the pavilion.

“You don't sound like you mean that,” I said.

Her lips pinched tight and her shoulders filled with tension. “The meat for the potluck. I have it  delivered. Steve from The Landing always brings it over and then helps at the barbecues.”

“Okay,” I said, still unsure what had changed her demeanor so dramatically. “Is he late or something?”

She shook her head. “No. That's not Steve.” She swallowed. “That car? That's Kat's.”

“Kat's?”

She stared hard at the Suburban. “Harvey's mother.”

TWENTY FIVE

Kat got out of the Suburban and shaded her eyes against the sun. She wore a pair of denim shorts and a red T-shirt that advertised The Landing. She spotted us, hesitated for a moment, then walked around to the back end of the Suburban. She lifted the window and pulled down the tailgate. She pulled a large box out of the back and made her way toward us.

“Where do you want them?” she asked as she approached. Her tone was curt.

“Table next to the grill,” Delilah said. She hesitated, then asked, “Where's Steve?”

Kat walked over to the table and dropped the box. “He's sick. He called me.” She walked toward the Suburban.

“See?” Delilah muttered. “Tons of fun.”

As nervous as Delilah seemed to see her ex-friend, Kat just seemed angry to be there. She grabbed another box and walked back toward us.

“Can I help you?” Delilah asked.

“No,” Kat said. “I've got it.”

“I can help you carry things.”

“I said I've got it,” she snapped.

She made three more trips to the Suburban and walked past us without saying a word. And each time, Delilah's anxiety grew. Kat slammed the tailgate on the Suburban on the last trip, her arms filled with one more large box. She dropped it on the table and started ripping the boxes open. Then she checked the propane on the grill.

“What time does thing start?” she asked.