Her tone turned to sugar. “On mah way, sweetie.”
He glanced at her. That had not sounded as if she spoke to a woman. Her eyes lit up and she smiled while listening. Sam took stock of how she’d dressed in a ruffly white blouse that deepened her unusual features she believed had come from a mix of Mexican and Afro-American. Pretty green eyes with curly lashes. She wore a flowy skirt of yellow and pink flower designs with three-inch yellow heels.
Her little beige purse could hold her phone, cash, lipstick ...
Well, damn. He’d missed the deep-pink lipstick on her lips. She only wore lipstick for special occasions.
Not to meet with her lady friends.
“Ayuh, sounds good tah me. See yah in a bit.” She hung up the phone.
“Where are you headed, Angie?”
She’d tucked her phone away and there came the eyebrow again. “I have plans.”
“With who?”
“Whom,” she corrected.
He ignored the critique. “Whoare you seeing and where are you going?”
“When did yah become mah guahdian?”
“Why are you avoiding my questions?” he countered. Who kept a watch on her to be sure she was safe when he wasn’t here? If he’d found out she’d started dating, he’d have come up with a plan to keep track of where she went. Who would know if she didn’t return from a ... dinner.
He would not call it a date.
“I’m notavoidin’yoah questions. I’m choosin’ to ignah them.”
He hooked the hammer on his tool belt and turned to where he could lean back on the ladder with his arms crossed. “You’re not meeting someone off a dating app, are you?”
She tilted her face to the side. “Let’s get somethin’ straight. I’ll decidewhatI do while I’m heah. I may go on an all-night bendah.” She grinned at throwing his words back in his face.
“That’s not you.” He hoped it wasn’t. She’d been alone a long time and deserved a companion, but he had to vet anyone wanting to get too close to her. He really had to show up more often or find someone local to keep tabs on her for him.
That would have been Janean, but not now.
“If yah wuh home moah often, yah’d know what I’m about, Sammy boy.” Before he could reply, she added, “Have yah even looked foh yoah boat?”
“What?” Why was she asking about his boat? Sore subject. He’d given it up when he left for the military.
She stared at him with the same look she gave a raccoon tearing up her garbage. “The sailboat yah dragged home at sixteen and nevah finished. Do yah even cayah about it anymoah?”
Why would she bring that up and gut him with a bad memory?
Even so, that didn’t stop him from asking, “Have you seen my boat somewhere? Back in Dorchester?” Could it still be in that rundown neighborhood covered in vines?
“I’m runnin’ late. Ask about it down at thah hahbah.”
“The harbor? We have a new marina?”
She grinned.
Had he really saidwe? Angie would take that one word as him putting down roots.
“See yah.” She walked away, rounding the corner of the house out of sight.
He hurried down the ladder. “Angie. Stop.”
