And then even Teri was gone, and it was just Lillian and Cal, standing in the entryway to Teri’s home.
“That’s quite an impressive skill you have,” Lillian said mildly. “They really hop to it.”
Cal shrugged, but his expression was warm. “They’re all eager to do well. Good kids.”
Lillian appreciated the confirmation of her perspective on how young all of Teri’s friends were. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
“Thanks.” Cal moved past her toward the living room she’d indicated. Lillian was struck by a sudden awareness of the closeness of his body. His scent, woodsy and masculine, filled her nose and made her flush.
“Would you like some coffee?” There was that breathlessness again, damn it. “There’s a cup or two left.”
“Sure,” he said, sounding surprised. She went to refill her own cup and pour one for him.
She’d fallen automatically into hostessing, she realized, even though this wasn’t her house. Well, no one who lived here was present, and it wasn’t presumptuous to offer the man a cup of coffee, especially if it’d go to waste otherwise.
And she needed to be doing something.
She brought it to him—he’d waited to sit down until she got back, and in fact he waited even longer, until she’d taken her own seat on the couch. Old-fashioned politeness, she thought, faintly charmed.
Cal took a long drink of coffee, sighed in what looked like pleasure, and set the cup down on a coaster. He leaned forward. “Lillian,” he started.
Hearing her name in that low rumble of voice gave her such a jolt. He’d only said it a couple of times, and every time it seemed to hit her right in the chest.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem like he’d noticed. “This is a little awkward,” he was saying. “I apologize for prying into your business like this. But do you have an ex-husband?”
That was a real shock. After a frozen moment, Lillian set her own cup down, untouched, to keep it from betraying any nervousness in her hands.
“Yes, I do,” she said, as steadily as she could manage. “Lewis Jacobs. Is he involved in this somehow?”
But she knew the answer before Cal even opened his mouth to speak.
“Wayne Hennessey is the man who was following you,” he said, “and he claims that Mr. Jacobs owes him something, and he’s looking to collect.”
Lillian stood abruptly—Cal immediately stood as well—and strode over to the window. She stared out of it, not seeing anything, while she tried to compose her face.
Of course. Of course. What else could it possibly have been?
“Are you all right?” came that rumbling low voice from behind her. She shivered. Was he close? It felt like he was close.
She had the most absurd desire to turn around, press her face into his shoulder, and start to cry. As though that ever helped anything. As though anything could help this, apart from her own hard work and sacrifice.
“My ex-husband had a gambling problem,” she said steadily without turning around. “Has, I suppose. I never knew how extensive it was while we were married. Silly of me. I should’ve realized he was always lying about how much he lost.”
“Not a sin to trust your husband,” Cal said quietly.
“No, but in my case it was naïve at the very least.” Lillian couldn’t stand facing away like a coward any longer, so she turned to look at Cal.
He had the most compassionate expression. She wouldn’t have thought—his features were on the rugged side, and he’d been very composed, if friendly, when they met. But now...
“When we divorced, the courts ruled that I was responsible for half his debt,” she continued, feeling her face flush and wishing she could control it. “Even half of it was an immense amount of money. Far more than I could repay. I’ve been paying every month since, and I’ll be paying for a long time to come. And now there’s more, apparently.”
Although he’d likely done all of this gambling since the divorce. She shuddered to think of how much more money he might’ve lost in the last two years.
Cal turned away. Lillian frowned, taking a step forward. Was he—angry? Disappointed in the situation, in her?
Then she noticed that Cal’s fists were clenched.
“I used to be in the Marines,” Cal said in a tight, even voice. Lillian wondered at the non sequitur, but he continued: “So I know a lot of bad language. A lot of words I wouldn’t use in front of a lady. But I don’t know any words bad enough to describe a man who’d rack up gambling debts and ruin his wife’s life making her pay them off.”