When her glass is full, I clink mine to hers.
“Guess it’s working out with Phil, huh?” I say as we toast.
She flinches, just a little. I consider, and then sip my drink, saying as casually as I can, “Should we switch spots? Let me play bartender while you talk?”
I expect an eye roll. Instead, she says, “Have you ever been in a relationship that scared you, Casey?”
I tense.
She shakes her head. “Not like that. I had a man lift a hand to me once, and I showed him the door.” She takes a drink. “A strategy that always works so much better in our heads. And in advice columns. He didn’t go quietly. Once he was gone, he didn’t stay gone. Old story. Women can say they won’t put up with that shit, but that presumes the men listen. Most don’t. Phil, however, is not remotely a problem in that way. The issue is…”
She sets down her glass. “I almost screwed up the other night, Casey. The new guy. The one who just arrived. James?”
“Jay.”
“See? I don’t even know his name, but when he flirted with me, there was a moment where I considered taking him home for the night. I certainly flirted back long enough to give him hope.”
“Are you and Phil exclusive?”
“It hasn’t come up, but it’s clear that Phil considers it so, and unless I’ve said otherwise, that would be a poor excuse. The unforgivable part is that before Phil, I wouldn’t have flirted with James. He isn’t my type.”
I start to ask why she did, then I remember what she said. “Ah, when you asked about relationships that scared me, you meant emotionally. You flirted back with Jay to convince yourself you aren’t serious with Phil.”
She gives me a hard look. “A therapist isn’t supposed to offer interpretations.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m a detective, where it’s my job to interpret.”
Isabel takes two bottles from the shelf and disappears into the back. I don’t take offense at her sudden departure. Where I would simply go quiet, she signals that she doesn’t want to discuss it by removing herself from the conversation.
Bottles click and shuffle in the back. I’m halfway done with my drink before she returns.
“Do you consider me a soft touch, Casey?” she says.
I choke on my lemonade. She picks up her cloth to wipe away the spatter.
“Perhaps I worded that wrong,” she says.
“Unless that was extreme sarcasm, yes, you did. No one would ever mistake you for a soft touch, Iz.”
“I do have my vulnerabilities, though. After Mick…” She keeps cleaning, although my mess is long gone. “He was the pursuer.”
“He told me that. He chased, and you resisted.”
“Not just at the beginning, either. I always resisted. He let me know exactly how he felt, and I … did not reciprocate. I hope he knew—” She clears her throat. “I trust he knew. Some women might see dating a significantly younger man as a point of pride. Smug self-satisfaction. To me, it was like revealing a weakness. Uncovering a place where others could poke me. I fought back by acting as if Mick was just a plaything. Not in private but…”
Another throat-clearing. “I was less respectful than I ought to have been, and I regret that. When Mick was gone, I realized just how much I’d cared for him. It’s one thing for a successful man to have a hot young thing to show off. It’s quite another if he’s fool enough to fall for her. I worry that Phil…” She downs a gulp of her drink. “I worry he saw my weakness, and he’s taking advantage.”
“Of you?”
“Of my position here. My power in the community. I worry that he sees me as an easy mark. Get me in bed, and I’m just an older woman making a fool of herself.”
“I don’t see that at all, Isabel. If Phil was using you, he’d be flaunting the relationship, which he is not.”
“Because he’s embarrassed.”
“Uh, no. Jen accused him of that yesterday. He said he’s being circumspect because of your mutual positions in town. Also…” I run my finger down my glass. “I get the impression he’s being quiet about the relationship because you are. You might not be the only one who’s worrying about where you stand, Iz.”
She takes another sip and says, “I don’t want it happening again.”