These Boots Weren't Made for Walking (26 page)

“Thanks,” I tell him. “Its actually feeling a lot better.”

“Hopefully it's nothing serious.”

“Cassie!” calls out Gary Frye. He's waving from a table where several of my old friends, including Bridget and Penny, are seated.

“Come and join us,” calls Bridget. She's eying Will and probably wondering what I'm doing with this guy when Ross and I have something going on. I haven't told her—or anyone for that matter—about Will. I mean, what is there to tell?

“These are some old high-school friends.” I explain about Friday-night happy hour. “I'll just say a quick hello.”

He nods. “Cool.”

So I introduce Will as an old friend from the city, and he smiles and greets everyone politely.

“Keeping this guy a secret, are you?” teases Penny as she winks at Will. I'm thinking Penny's had a little too much to drink already, but I just smile at her.

“Wills not a secret,” I say, “but we would like to catch up.” I nod toward a table in the corner. “So if you'll excuse us.”

They complain, but Will and I depart just the same. I don't want them to start grilling us about our relationship. Not that we have a relationship. But I want to know more about why Will came here today. Was it really because of my Christmas card? What did I say in it anyway?

“You really have a life,” says Will as we sit down.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you've changed.”

“Changed?”

He nods. “Your hair's different, and you look, well, great. But you've changed on the inside too.”

I frown slighdy. “Is that bad?”

He shakes his head. “No, that's good.”

I smile. “Really?”

“Definitely. It's like you're more confident, more sure of yourself. Like you really know who you are now. You weren't like that before.”

“Well, it hasn't been exacdy easy. And it didn't happen overnight.” I tell him a litde about my mom and her shocking transformation
and that she's been dating a guy my age. I go on and on, even telling him about my mall encounter with Eric and how glad I was to be over him. Will is a great listener.

“But enough about me,” I say, feeling silly for being so self-absorbed. “How's it going with you? Have you seen Monica?” What I really want to know is whether he's got another girlfriend. But no way am I asking that.

“I've really been getting a lot of hours at work,” he begins after the waiter brings our drinks and takes our orders. “In fact, this is the first time I've had a Friday off, but I sort of put my foot down and demanded it. I have to be back at work for tomorrow night, but I insisted on some time off during Christmas.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah. And the manager was fairly decent about it. I guess I've proven myself, and they actually want to keep me around.”

“Well, of course.”

“I've already worked my way up to head chef,” he says proudly

“Congratulations!”

He nods and takes a sip of his Black Bear Porter. “Yeah, it's pretty cool.” Then he looks at me. “I feel like I have you to thank for it, Cassie.”

I wave my hand. “No. You're a great cook, Will. I had nothing—

“You encouraged me. When I was totally bummed and ready to give up, you reached out to me.” He shakes his head. “It still amazes me, because you were hurting pretty bad yourself.”

I nod. “Yeah. But what you might not realize is that you helped me a lot too. That one night when I was so depressed—it seems unbelievable now—but I was actually considering taking some kind of pills or something.” I sort of laugh. “But I didn't have much in the medicine cabinet, and I didn't think an overdose of laxatives would exactly do the trick.”

He makes a face. “Yuck.”

“Yeah, whatta way to go.”

“I'm glad you didn't.”

“Me too. Anyway, you were a real godsend to me, Will. I mean that. And I guess I've wanted to thank you too. I suppose that's why I sent the Christmas card.”

Now there's a long silence. We both sip our beers, and I wonder if that's it. Nothing more to say.

“Oh, you asked about Monica…” He stops.

Suddenly I think,
Oh, no, they re back together.
I so don't want to hear this. I mean, sure, if they're back together, fine. I just don't want to know.

“Well, I got to thinking about what she did, using your credit card like that. And I decided to see if I could track her down through some of her old friends. I tried and tried, but all I came up with was dead ends. A couple of people think she's in Los Angeles, trying to get discovered and make it big.”

“That sounds like Monica.”

“Anyway, I've still got some people looking for her, and if I hear anything, I'll let you know. She needs to pay you back, Cassie.”

I nod. “You're right. But I've pretty much kissed that money good-bye. And in a way, I'm glad.”

“Huh?”

“Well, it was kind of a last straw for me. It forced me to move back home. And even though it was a little rough for a while, I'm happier here.” I consider my next line, not sure that I want to toss it out, but then I figure it's simply the truth. “Not only that…it kind of connected me to you. I mean, crazy as it sounds, if Monica hadn't pulled a fast one on us, well, we never would've gotten to know each other. I'd still be thinking of you as that good-for-nothing loser who was sponging off poor Monica.”

His brows lift. “That's what you thought?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Didn't mean to say that.”

But he just laughs. “No, it's okay. Your character assessment wasn't far from the truth.”

“Except I know now that Monica was the one who sponged off you. And me too. So anyway, for that reason, I don't really care about it anymore. There's a verse in the Bible that says all things work together for good if you love the Lord—or something to that effect. And I feel like maybe that's happening with me.”

“Speaking of the Bible, and you're probably not going to believe this, but after you said you'd be praying for me, well, it got me thinking about my mom. She's pretty religious. I hadn't spoken to my parents since they got mad at me for dropping out of culinary school, which was after I dropped out of college. They pretty much cut me off when I hooked up with Monica. They thought it was
sinful for us to be living together.” He shakes his head. “But I hon-esdy think it would ve been a worse sin to marry her. She might've been good looking, but she was a mistake from the get-go.”

“Kind of like Eric for me.”

“Yeah. Anyway, after hearing some things you said, I decided maybe it was time to give up my little rebellion against my parents, and I gave my mom a call. We had a nice long talk. Then she sent me my old Bible, and I've actually been reading it.”

“Seriously?”

He nods. “I know it probably seems pretty weird. Will Sor-ensen reading the Bible.”

“I think it's pretty cool.”

His expression turns sad. “The downside of getting in touch with my parents is that I found out my dad is dying.” I'm sorry.

“Me too.” He sighs. “But at least I've been able to talk to him, to mend bridges. I even offered to move back home and help out, but my parents are so glad that I have a good job and am getting back on my feet that they said to stick with it. But I promised to come home for a few days at Christmas.”

“Will, I'm so happy for you,” I say. “Your life is really on track.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Maybe God used me,” I admit, “the same way he used you. But you've been making some great choices too. You'd better take some of the credit.”

The waiter sets our food on the table. “So I just felt like I needed to come and say thanks,” Will says. “It seemed like I owed you that much.”

“You don't owe me a thing.”

He starts to chuckle as he picks up a french fry.

“Something funny about your food?” I ask. “I'm sure it's nothing like what you're used to at Terrazzo de Giordano.”

“No, that's not it.” He grins. “I was just replaying that scene of Black Bear cartwheeling down the mountain.

“I did not cartwheel,” I point out.

He laughs. “Well, whatever it was, I hope someone got it on film.”

I laugh. “You know, that would be great to have on our Web site. Maybe I can talk Brandon, our regular bear, into reenacting it for me tomorrow.”

“How's your knee?”

“Not too bad. I think it'll be fine if I give it some rest.”

“You should probably still get it checked.”

“Yeah. I'll make an appointment, maybe on Monday.”

Will points another fry toward the entry. “Hey, isn't that Ross, the dude from the ski lodge?”

I look up and am surprised to see Ross coming into the brewery. Then I feel bad to see that he's by himself, because I know he doesn't like to eat alone. I wave to him, and he comes over to our table to say hello.

“Hows the knee?” he asks with concern.

“I was just telling Will that I think it's going to be okay. Want to join us?”

He looks a little uncomfortable as he glances from me to Will, then shakes his head. “No, that's okay.” He holds up a newspaper. “I thought I'd catch up on the latest.”

“If you're sure.”

“I'm sure.” He smiles at Will. “You kids have fun.” Then he goes to the other side of the room and slides into a booth.

“So what does Ross do?” asks Will.

“Ross, owns Black Bear Butte,” I tell him. “Well, he and his family own it. But he pretty much runs the place, and that makes him my boss.”

Will nods. “I think he likes you.”

“What do you mean?” I study Will.

He smiles. “I mean I think your boss thinks you're hot, Cassie.”

I laugh nervously. “What on earth makes you think that?”

“I could tell by the way he looked at you just now and by the way he spoke to you. Trust me. I might be a guy, but I pick up on these things.” His
eyes
twinkle. “It's my artistic and sensitive nature.”

“Well, that's just—just—silly.”

“Is Ross single?”

“Well, yes. But that doesn't mean anything. Probably what you picked up on is the fact that Ross and I are good friends. We often get a bite to eat together, and we do things together sometimes but
just as friends. Co-workers, you know. Ross even made sure that I clearly understood that right from the beginning.” “Maybe he's the one who doesn't understand.” “Oh, Will.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Really, we're just friends.” Then I change the subject by telling him about my mom going out with Ross. She thought there was something going bn between the two of them, I explain, but Ross made it clear that he wasn't ready for anything serious yet. “I think it's sweet that his wife's memory means that much to him. I can't even imagine being loved like that.”

Will nods thoughtfully. “Oh, it could happen, Cassie.” I feel myself blush and wonder if I read more into that sentence than was there. Once again I change the subject by telling him about the new French restaurant in town. Of course, I don't mention that it was Ross who took me there or that his friends are the owners.

“Cool,” he says. “I love French cuisine. I'll have to try it out sometime.”

“Well, you'll have to come back to Black Bear then.” He nods. “I might just do that.” “Are you driving back to the city tonight?” “Actually, I got a room at the Ski Inn. Is it any good?” “Well, it's the cheapest lodging in town, and college kids like to party there. Hopefully you'll get some sleep.” Then I wink at him. “Unless you decide to party too.”

“I think I've left my partying days behind.”

“Speaking of college kids, it looks like winter-break invasion is in full swing.” I nod to a rowdy bunch who have taken over the bar. Still garbed in outdoor wear, they probably just came down from the mountain too. “This is the time of year when the locals tend to lay low.”

“Would that be you too?”

I shrug. “They don't intimidate me. I'd be more worried if they weren't here. My job is to lure as many customers as possible.” I rub my sore knee. “I'd probably want to hang out and have some fun myself, but this knee is starting to feel like it could use some more ice.

Will picks up the check. “Then we should make sure you get safely home.”

Knowing this isn't really a date, I open my purse to pay for my half, but Will stops me, saying it's his treat, and I don't argue. Actually all I can think is that I need to get home. My knee is throbbing now, and the elastic bandage feels like it's turned into a tourniquet. My toes are actually getting numb.

“Sorry to be such a party pooper,” I tell Will as he helps me to my car. “But this knee is really starting to hurt. I guess maybe I won't wait until Monday to get checked after all.”

“You should probably get some crutches,” he suggests.

“Where do you get crutches, I wonder.”

“You know, at a pharmacy. Haven't you ever been on crutches before?”

“Actually, I've been spared.”

“Well, I played soccer for years, which resulted in a few sprains. I know a thing or two about crutches. How about if I pick some up for you?”

“But where?” I ask. “Our only pharmacy is closed now.” “What's the closest town with a Wal-Mart or ShopKo?” I tell him, and he promises to be back in about an hour. “With crutches.”

So I tell him where I live and that I'll see him later. As I drive home, I try to distract myself from the pain by thinking about what a sweet guy he is. I mean, how many guys would drive for an hour to pick up crutches for a friend? On his only day off? On Friday night, to boot!

I hobble into the house and am not surprised to see that Mom's not home. This probably means she's with Todd, and that still aggravates me. I thought Mom would've outgrown this phase by now. But it's like she's only getting worse. Like she really thinks she's in her thirties. I just don't get it.