Mad About You

time."
    Warning bells chimed in her head. Unless she was hearing things, Bailey Kallihan was starting to sound... responsible.
    She settled back into the comfy seat, enjoying the warm summer air blowing through her hair. Bailey drove at the minimum allowable speed on the expressways, garnering lots of attention and thumbs-ups from other drivers. It was a clear summer night, and Virginia felt special—in a special car, with a special man. Tonight she would put aside the past and see him through different eyes—maybe he had changed. She would try to be more open-minded where Bailey was concerned, but not let her guard down completely.
    When they arrived at the restaurant, the valets scrambled for the honor of driving the Packard. She saw Bailey slip the guy a twenty tip in advance. "Don't let anyone touch my car," he said simply.
    Once they'd given their names to the host, they claimed seats at the bar. Suddenly Virginia felt ridiculously nervous at having to converse with Bailey alone for an entire evening.
    "What'll you have?" the bartender asked them.
    From the wine list, she selected a glass of pinot noir.
    "Same," Bailey told the man.
    She glanced at him in puzzlement. "What happened to whiskey sours?"
    He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Turning over a new leaf."
    Virginia fidgeted with her napkin, growing more nervous with each passing second at this new side of Bailey.
    When the barman brought their glasses, Bailey raised his toward her. "To our reunion," he said, a smile crinkling his eyes.
    She nodded and offered him a watery smile when she clinked her glass to his. The drink she took from her glass was deeper than she'd intended, the alcohol instantly warming the back of her throat.
    "So how was the shopping today?" he asked.
    "Not so good. Apparently, they don’t make that gaming model anymore. I bought a newer one, but he barely talked the rest of the day."
    He made a rueful noise. "He’ll come around."
    "I hope so. At least he was nice to my parents when they arrived. "
    "Have you been notified yet about a date for juvenile court?"
    She shook her head. "A woman at the police station told me over the phone it should be in the mail any day now."
    "Well, let's hope the whole thing will scare him enough to keep him from doing it again."
    Don't bet on it, she thought, her mind on the locket. Involuntarily she reached for the spot the pendant normally hung, her fingers touching bare skin instead.
    He noticed the movement. "Where's your locket?"
    Unable to look him in the eye, Virginia took another deep drink from her glass. "I must have left it at home."
    Their name was called, and a hostess led them to a secluded table on the second floor of the restaurant, with a nice view of the city lights. A pianist played classic romantic tunes in the background, and a few couples turned slowly on a tiny dance floor.
    Virginia perused the menu, feeling languid and sentimental. Her menu didn't even have prices—they could never have afforded to eat there when they were first married. Suddenly she longed for a platter of barbecue from a little dive where they used to go when they found extra money or wanted to treat themselves.
    "Bailey."
    He looked up from the menu, one eyebrow raised in response.
    "Is Blackey's still in business?"
    He looked surprised, then pursed his lips in concentration. "I think so... yeah, I heard some guy at work mention it the other day."
    "Let's go."
    He frowned and leaned forward. "Excuse me?"
    "Let's go eat barbecue at Blackey's."
    He looked all around them, then whispered, "Ginny, are you drunk?"
    She laughed. "Not on one glass of wine."
    "Are you saying you want to leave?"
    "It's a nice place, but suddenly I had a longing for something more... familiar."
    This time both eyebrows shot up.
    The waiter suddenly reappeared at the table. "Are you ready to order, madam?"
    "No." She fanned herself furiously with the menu. "In fact, I'm suddenly feeling very ill." She took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling in an exaggerated fashion.
    "Can I get you something?" the man asked, his face crumpled with concern.
    "I’m sorry, " she said, " but I think we'd better leave."
    Bailey barely concealed his amusement. "I think she's right." He moved behind Ginny's chair and made a big show of trying to help her from the chair.
    The waiter looked completely perplexed. "I hope your wife feels better, sir."
    Ginny stiffened slightly at the title, but tried to maintain her "sick"