"I started not to."
She released his hand immediately after giving it one firm shake, then resumed her seat. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. Then for a time they just looked at each other.
Her hair was lighter than he remembered. Maybe she was using blond to cover up strands of gray. Whatever, he liked it. It was still that rich cinnamon color that he'd never seen on anyone before or since.
Sherry-colored eyes. Once, when he'd waxed poetic--poetic for him, anyway--about her coloring, she'd laughed. Cinnamon and sherry? I think you read that in a recipe book. And he'd replied, Maybe so, because you look good enough to eat.
He'd bet he could still encircle her waist with his hands. A strong wind could blow her away. Upon closer inspection, he saw a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and there was a slight softening of the skin along her jaw, but her complexion was flawless and appeared as soft as ever, and looking at her made him ache all over.
He sensed that this lengthy perusal was as painful for her as it was for him. Painful for him because he couldn't gobble up the sight of her fast enough, and painful for her because she was seeing in his face the corrosive effects of the life he'd lived since she'd last seen him.
She cleared her throat. "How was your drive?"
"Fine."
"Traffic?"
"Not too bad."
"No problem with my directions?"
"I got here." He tried to smile, but his lips felt stiff.
"Welcome to Mabel's. What can I get y'all?"
Dodge hadn't realized the waitress had approached. Feeling helpless, he looked across at Caroline for guidance. She said, "I'll have Darjeeling, please."
He had no idea in hell what that was. Forcing his lips to move, he asked if they had regular Coke, and when the lady said yes, he ordered one.
"Anything to eat? Our apricot scones are worth the calories."
"Nothing for me," Caroline said.
"Me neither, thanks."
She left to get their drinks. Dodge didn't know then, or remember later, what the server looked like, if she was young, old, tall, short, skinny, plump, if she was disappointed that they hadn't tried the apricot scones or if she didn't give a flip and only wanted her shift to be over so she could get out of there. He was functioning in a vacuum.
Caroline must have sensed his uneasiness. "I chose this place because I've never been here. I know a lot of people in town, and it's a friendly community. I thought our first meeting should be where it was unlikely we'd be interrupted."
He wanted to ask what would have been wrong about meeting at her house, but he already knew the answer. She would want to meet in a public place, where a scene was less likely to occur.
"This is fine. Just awfully..." He glanced around. "Frilly."
She smiled, and that made him relax a little.
"I don't know where to start," she said. "I don't know anything about your life in Atlanta."
"What do you want to know?"
"Why there?"
"That's where I ran out of gas. Thought it was as good a place as any."
"You joined the police force?"
"Fulton County Sheriff's Office. They had an immediate opening. I started as an investigator. Good job. Good benefits. Stayed with it for twenty-five years. But the city grew, mostly in self-importance. The office got very button-down. I was getting sick of all the rules and regulations.
"Then I solved a case and had to testify at trial. That's where I met Derek Mitchell, attorney at law. He cross-examined me. We were on opposing sides, but we impressed each other. He asked if I would be interested in working for him as his firm's investigator."