Sunrise Point

one was paying attention, she wouldn’t go in the house because the other one was in there. And the other one is still in there and you keep looking at that car like you wish it would disappear.”
    “You’re smarter than you look,” Tom said.
    Junior scratched his head. “I ain’t that smart. I’m divorced.” Then he turned back to the barn.
    Tom took a breath and headed for the house. Maxie was in the kitchen, as usual. She was pouring a pot of soup into a large container.
    “Where is she?” Tom asked quietly.
    “In her room. Pouting.”
    “Okay. I’ll take care of this.”
    “I’m leaving,” Maxie said. “I’m going into town to check on Nora, bring her some soup. I’m going to stay gone for at least a couple of hours. I’d be very happy if the drama could be over when I get home.”
    “It will be,” Tom said. But he was thinking, Why the hell can’t someone just shoot me?
     

Chapter Nineteen
    Tom tapped on Darla’s door. She bade him enter and when he opened the door, he did not see what he had hoped to see—packed luggage ready to go. Nope, she was still settled in. And she was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.
    “I don’t really know where to start…” he said.
    “Let me help you,” she returned rather curtly. “You begin with an apology. And what is that smell? ” He ignored the apology part and felt his neck prickling and getting red. He had a sudden curiosity—just how many times had she tricked men into marrying her? Was there any chance Bob hadn’t been the first one? But then he realized, he couldn’t possibly care less. “The smell is sweat, dirt and bear. ”
    “Maybe we should talk after you’ve had a chance to shower.”
    “No, we’re going to talk right now, Darla. We, you and I, aren’t going any further. We don’t fit. It wouldn’t work. It’s not what I want.”
    “It’s a bit more than that,” she said, standing but keeping her distance as she wrinkled her nose. “There’s another woman in the picture. You were cheating on me with one of your employees.”
    “That’s the thing, I wasn’t cheating on you because I haven’t made any kind of commitment to you, not even a slight, tiny, superficial commitment. None. At all. And you and I are not dating, not seeing each other, not getting more serious. We don’t want the same things, we’re never going to want the same things and I’m tired of this cat and mouse.”
    “Then why did you lead me on?”
    “Lead you on?” He frowned. “How did I do that?”
    “You kissed me! You took me to dinner. You told me to visit any time I wanted to.”
    “Aw, Jesus—when you first showed up here, I was open to the idea of dating a beautiful woman, so sue me. I checked you out while you were checking me out—but it never got off the ground. Darla, it worked for about a day. It isn’t working. We don’t even like the same things!”
    “I’m willing to give you another chance,” she said. “Obviously you have to get rid of that female.”
    “You’re amazing,” he said, laughing in spite of himself. “Does that usually work for you? That non-listening thing you’ve got going on? I don’t want another chance. I want us to part friends with the realization that we would have to have a lot more in common and like each other equally in order for there to be any kind of relationship beyond a very casual and very distant friendship. Apparently I don’t have enough ‘like’ in this equation because I’m not interested. No more dates, no more visits, no more talking about a future that is never going to happen.”
    “Well,” she said, a tear coming to her eye. Tom suspected they were very well-trained tears. “That was blunt to the point of cruel.”
    “That’s how it has to be, apparently. If you could let it go at I’m not interested, we could shake hands and say a pleasant goodbye.”
    She seemed to shake a bit, like anger was coming to the surface. “What the hell kind of woman do you want?”
    Big mistake, Darla, he thought. Big. “I want a woman who pitches in,” he said. “A woman who doesn’t sit and expect to be waited on while a seventy-four-year-old grandmother cooks and cleans and serves her. I want a woman who can pet the dog even if he gets a little hair on her expensive clothes. Someone who can feel special wearing boots that cost far less than a grand and I want a woman who eats, for God’s sake! How about a woman who isn’t trying to sell my family