This Matter Of Marriage. Debbie Macomber
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mounts, but he also did lathe work, blanchard grinding and other steel-fabrication work for a number of customers. His company was growing, taking on larger and larger orders, and he employed almost a dozen people now.
On the drive home that afternoon, Steve’s gaze fell on his hands—clean hands—gripping the steering wheel. He used to have grease under his fingernails, and that had always bothered Mary Lynn. The irony didn’t escape him. The last year and a half, he’d spent the majority of his time in the office and rarely dirtied his hands. She’d always wanted him to have a white-collar job; when he was finally able to grant her wish, she wanted him out of her life. Damn it all, the machine shop had been good to them—it had bought her house, supported the kids, paid for her education. A little grime around his fingernails seemed a small inconvenience.
The January drizzle grew heavier, and the truck’s windshield wipers beat against the glass, slapping the rain from side to side with annoying regularity. He exited the freeway and headed down the west hill toward Kent. He hadn’t been keen to buy the condominium. If he’d had a choice, he’d be moving back in with his family, but it was going to take longer than he’d first thought for that to happen.
He probably wouldn’t have moved into this complex if he hadn’t grown tired of apartment living. A small apartment was no place for kids, and Meagan and Kenny spent almost every weekend with him.
He would have preferred a real house but living on his own, he didn’t want the bother that went along with it. The condo was a decent compromise. A friend who sold real estate had convinced him it was a good investment. In addition, the builders were offering an attractive buyer-incentive program. The condo was just as nice as the house Mary Lynn and the kids lived in. Not quite as big, but that was okay. The kids liked it, and they’d managed to make friends with his next-door neighbor in short order too, he mused, as he switched off his windshield wipers. The rain had tapered off to almost nothing.
Steve hadn’t met Hallie yet—Meagan had told him her name. From what he’d seen of her, she was an exercise freak. His kitchen window overlooked her living room, and she had a treadmill set up there, alongside one of those stair-stepping machines. Every time he caught a glimpse of her she was working out. She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself, either.
Steve turned into the Willow Woods complex and stopped in front of the two rows of mailboxes aligned at the entrance. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the truck that he saw her. Hallie stood in front of her mailbox studying a large envelope as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“Howdy, neighbor,” he greeted her, inserting the key into his mailbox.
Startled, she looked up. “Hello.”
“Steve Marris.” He thrust out his hand. “I moved in next door this past weekend.”
She blinked a couple of times. “You’re Meagan and Kenny’s dad.”
“That’s me.”
“Hallie McCarthy.” She placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“You’ve got two terrific kids.”
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. He felt that way, too.
With a nervous motion, Hallie glanced down at the envelope she still held, then shoved it into her purse. “Well, uh, Steve, I have to go. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
Steve had caught the logo on the envelope. Dateline. He’d heard plenty about the pricey exclusive dating service. Shortly after the divorce, a well-meaning friend had tried to talk him into signing up, but he’d recoiled at the idea of paying two thousand bucks for a date. He’d have to be a whole lot more desperate than he was now before he’d even consider it.
Hallie raised her head just then. “I…A friend suggested I write for information,” she blurted. Her cheeks had turned a bright shade of pink. “I’d never…” She paused, squared her shoulders and gave him a smile that was decidedly forced. “I want you to know I don’t need any help finding a man.” Head high, with a dignity Princess Diana would have envied, Hallie McCarthy walked to her car. However, the speed with which she drove off kind of spoiled the effect.
Watching her leave, Steve slowly shook his head. Maybe he should steer the kids away from her. She seemed nice enough, but a little on the weird side.
Three
Seven Down, Three To Go
A rare burst of February sunshine showered Puget Sound, and after weeks of being cooped up inside for her daily exercise routine, Hallie decided to take advantage of this respite from the rain. She donned one of the three coordinated running outfits she’d purchased; it was a lovely teal green with a hot pink racing stripe up the outside of the legs and a geometrical design decorating the zippered jacket. If nothing else, Hallie knew she looked great—and she felt great. Seven of those ten unwanted pounds had vanished. Not without considerable effort, however.
She wasn’t entirely confident that those pounds were gone for good. Were they hiding around the corner, waiting for her to lower her guard? One day away from the treadmill or succumbing to the temptation of a chocolate-chip cookie and they’d be back. Which was why she’d been so rigorous about her diet and exercise regimen. Three pounds to go, and she’d weigh the same as she had at her high-school graduation, more years ago than she cared to remember.
Goal weight. What perfectly lovely words they were.
She hoped she’d manage to achieve it before Valentine’s Day. She’d set the target date back in January, giving herself ample time to reach her physical best. Already she’d let a few select friends—the ones who’d wanted to line her up with their single brothers, unattached male acquaintances and recently divorced colleagues—know she was in the market for a meaningful long-term relationship. She hadn’t heard back yet, but it was still early.
She opened the front door and stepped into the welcome sunshine. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t the only one outside enjoying the warmth.
Her next-door neighbor and his son were playing catch in the front yard. She was afraid she’d started off on the wrong foot with Steve Marris, but wasn’t sure how to correct that. Of all the rotten luck for him to see the envelope from Dateline! Her mistake had been not keeping her mouth shut. Oh, no, that would have been too easy. She had to go and blurt out some stupid, embarrassing remark. She wanted to groan every time she thought of it.
“Hi, Hallie.”
Steve’s daughter raced over to her. With no other kids around her age, Hallie thought, Meagan must get restless spending weekends with her father.
“Howdy, kiddo. What’re you up to?”
“Nothing,” she said in a bored voice. “Dad’s teaching Kenny how to be a great shortstop. I don’t like baseball much.”
“Me, neither,” Hallie said. It wasn’t that she disliked sports; she just didn’t understand the big attraction. A bunch of guys racing around a field or across some ice, all chasing a ball or whatever—what was the point?
Hallie raised her hands above her head and slowly exhaled before bending forward and touching her fingertips to the walkway. She wasn’t sure of the reason for this, but she’d seen runners do it before a race, and she supposed they knew what they were doing. Warming up or something.
After a month on the treadmill, averaging two miles a day on a preset course that simulated a run on hilly terrain, Hallie thought she was ready for one real-life mile. From her car speedometer, she knew it was exactly half a mile to the entrance of Willow Woods. She figured she should be able to run there and back without a problem. Actually she hoped she wouldn’t work up too much of a sweat, fearing it would leave marks on her new running suit.
“What are you doing now?” Meagan asked, watching her go through a series of bends and stretches.
“Getting ready to run.”