The Witness

“After, we’re talking about frozen margaritas.”
    The puppy bounced, rolled, nipped and generally went crazy around and over Bert, who sat, quivering, his gaze slanted toward Abigail.
    “Ami. Jouer.”
    Instantly, he hunkered, head down, tail up and wagging, and playfully knocked Plato into an ungainly roll.
    “Aw, aren’t they cute!” Sunny declared.
    “He won’t hurt the puppy.”
    “Honey, I can see that. That big boy’s gentle as a lamb, and God knows Plato can use a little running-around time. He’s been in the car or on the leash all afternoon. Did you meet my two girls?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’re trying to talk her into putting away her trowel and coming along for shopping and margaritas.” Sybill offered Abigail a warm, easy smile that showed hints of dimples.
    “Thank you for asking.” Abigail heard the stiffness in her voice when compared with the other women’s ease. “But I really need to finish planting. I got a later start than I’d planned.”
    “Well, it looks just beautiful.” Sybill wandered over for a closer look. “I didn’t inherit Mama’s or Daddy’s green thumb, so I’m envious.”
    “It was very nice of you to come over and invite me.”
    “It was,” Mya agreed, “but mostly Syb and I just wanted to get a close-up look at you and check out the woman who’s got Brooks all tangled up.”
    “Oh.”
    “You’re not the type I imagined would hook him so good and proper.”
    “Oh” was all Abigail could think of, again.
    “Something’s in Mya’s mind,” Sunny began, hooking an arm around her daughter, “it just rolls right off her tongue.”
    “I can be tactful and diplomatic, but it’s not a natural state for me. Anyway, I meant it as a compliment, a good thing.”
    “Thank you?”
    Mya laughed. “You’re welcome. Mostly, see, Brooks—in the past—tended toward the looks without necessarily much substance to back it up. But here you are, pretty and natural, strong and smart enough to live out here on your own, clever enough to plant a well-designed garden—I did get the green thumb—and you run your own business, from what I’m told. And I guess since you’ve got that big gun on your hip, you know how to take care of yourself.”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Have you ever shot anyone?”
    “Mya. Don’t mind her,” Sybill said. “She’s the oldest and has the biggest mouth. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with us?”
    “I really need to finish this garden, but thank you.”
    “We’ll have a cookout Sunday afternoon,” Sunny announced. “Brooks’ll bring you around.”
    “Oh, thank you, but—”
    “Nothing fancy. Just a backyard barbecue. And I’ve got some yellow flags I need to divide. I’ll give you some. They’ll like that sunny spot over by the brook. I’ll round up that pup, and we’ll see you Sunday.”
    “You’ve been seeing Brooks for a while now,” Mya commented.
    “I suppose.”
    “You know how he just chips amiably away at you until he gets his way?”
    “Yes.”
    Mya winked and grinned. “He comes by it naturally. We’ll see you Sunday.”
    “Don’t worry.” Sybill surprised Abigail by taking her hand as her sister walked off to help their mother with the puppy. “It’ll be fine. Your dog’s all right with kids around?”
    “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Unless I tell him to, she thought.
    “You bring him along. You’ll feel easier having your dog with you. We’re pretty nice people, and inclined to like anyone who makes Brooks happy. You’ll be fine,” she said, and gave Abigail’s hand a squeeze before she released it and walked back to the car.
    There was a lot of laughing and chattering, a lot of waving and honking. Shell-shocked, Abigail stood, her deliriously happy dog at her side, and politely lifted her hand as the O’Hara-Gleason women drove away.
    It was like being rolled over by a steamroller made of flowers, Abigail thought. It didn’t really hurt, it was all very pretty and sweet-smelling. But you were still flattened.
    She wouldn’t go, of course. It would be impossible on so many levels. Perhaps she’d write a polite note of regret to Brooks’s mother.
    She put her gardening gloves back on. She wanted to finish the bed; plus, she’d used finishing it as an excuse, so finish it she must and would.
    She’d never been asked to go shopping and have margaritas, and wondered as she dug what it was like. She knew people shopped even when they didn’t need anything. She didn’t