Mad About You

swinging around her shoulders, then applied her makeup carefully.
    When she appraised her image in the full-length mirror, she was relatively pleased with the result. Then she frowned—she needed jewelry. Virginia pulled her favorite gold hoops from her jewelry case, then decided the locket would be the perfect foil for the low-necked sweater. And fitting for the occasion, she thought happily. She rummaged through the case, frowning when she didn't find the necklace in its usual compartment. Fifteen minutes later she had removed and separated every piece of jewelry, but still hadn't found her precious locket.
    Desperately trying to stem her rising panic, she forced herself to remember the last time she'd worn it. She'd shown it to Chad before they washed the car yesterday—had she then worn it outside? She thought she remembered putting it on the dresser, but she couldn't be sure. She ran down the stairs and outside to look all around her car and in the driveway. She even moved her car, but still couldn't find it.
    Her worry escalated as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She performed another search of her dresser and jewelry case, then fell to her hands and knees to search the carpet in her room. Nothing. Spent, she sat on the floor with her back against the bed, no longer able to ignore her rising suspicion. In her mind she saw Chad's tear-streaked face and heard him yell, "I'll get you back!"
    She leaned her head against the mattress and sighed.
    Chad had stolen her locket.

Chapter Eleven

    WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG a few moments later, she dragged herself to her feet and walked down the stairs, wrestling with whether to divulge her suspicions to Bailey. At the last second she decided against it, thinking if she confronted Chad and he owned up to it, no one would be the wiser. Resolved, she conjured up a smile reflective of her earlier anticipation, and opened the door.
    She was greeted by the largest bouquet of wildflowers she'd ever seen. Laughing in delight, she asked, "Is my date in there somewhere?"
    He peeked around the side, then whistled low. "Wow, you look great."
    Her cheeks warmed. "Thanks. I'd ask you to come in, but I don't think you'll fit through the door."
    Somehow they managed to get the flowers inside. Ginny was stunned to see that Bailey had traded in his jeans and boots for tailored slacks and dress shoes. A white collarless dress shirt fit his broad shoulders to perfection. "You look great, too," she said, swallowing hard.
    "Then I guess we make a great-looking couple," he said, his teeth flashing.
    Her throat went completely dry at the thought of them once again being a couple. She busied herself finding enough vases, pitchers, and water glasses to hold all the flowers. When they finished, she looked around at the bouquets and laughed aloud. "It looks like you raided one of your wholesalers."
    His sheepish grin confirmed her guess. "DiNaldo's has the best plants in town."
    "They’re lovely… and I'm certainly impressed with the quantity."
    "Size matters, " he said with a mischievous grin.
    She rolled her eyes, smothering a laugh, and glanced at the clock. "Should we get going?"
    "Sure. We'll have time to have a drink at the bar before dinner."
    "Where are we going?"
    "We have reservations at Crosby's."
    She raised her eyebrows. "Well, well."
    He opened the front door. "After you."
    At the bottom of the steps she froze in her tracks. "Oh, Bailey." At the end of the driveway, a small knot of pedestrians had gathered to get a look at a perfectly restored baby-blue 1953 Packard Caribbean convertible. "It can't be the same car you dragged out of that old woman's shed in Havensport."
    "Yep—I gave her five hundred dollars for it and you thought I was getting ripped off."
    She walked toward it, her mouth agape. "It's unbelievable! This car must be worth a small fortune."
    "I wouldn't go that far," Bailey said, opening her door.
    Sliding across the smooth white upholstery, she admired the sparkling chrome, the precise attention to restored detail. Suddenly Bailey's saving plan seemed more sensible than before. "You did this yourself?"
    "With some help," he said, swinging into the driver's seat. "I'm glad you like it, because this is a farewell excursion." He started the engine and carefully turned the vehicle around.
    "You're selling it? Why?"
    He shrugged. "I found a motivated buyer, and money talks. Now I'll be able to do some things around Shenoway I've been wanting to do for a long