The Lover

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“Twelve.”

As they entered the dining room, Robyn whispered to him. “I’m supposed to sit next to Raymond and across from the new minister, but that’s Mama’s plan, not mine. She’s always matchmaking.”

Jim noted that the table sat eight, with R.B. and his wife—who was an older, shorter version of her beautiful younger daughter—residing at each end, Raymond and Helen on the left, and Matthew on the right.

Bernie placed a bread basket on the end of the table by her mother, then headed toward the other end with another basket. Just as she started to sit down beside the handsome, young minister, Robyn rushed forward, all but dragging Jim.

“Come on, Jimmy, you sit between me and Reverend Donaldson.” She looked at her sister and said, “You sit over there next to Raymond.”

Jim glanced at Bernie, whose facial expression didn’t alter in the slightest, but he noted something in her eyes. Just a hint of displeasure, so subtle that he felt certain no one else caught it. For a split second she looked right at him, then averted her gaze quickly and took her place at the table beside Raymond Long. Then Jim sat exactly where Robyn had told him to sit, between her and Matthew Donaldson.

During the course of the meal, Robyn didn’t pay much attention to the minister or anyone else; instead, she concentrated on Jim. The more she talked, the more he realized she wasn’t really saying anything. Her main topic of conversation was herself. Jim offered her an agreeable smile now and then and answered when she asked a question, nodding fairly often and replying yes or no. By the time Mrs. Granger served Mississippi mud pie for dessert, Jim realized that Robyn reminded him of someone. She reminded him of Mary Lee. It wasn’t that they resembled each other, except they were both very pretty and had great figures. No, it was more a personality thing. Robyn seemed to be as self-centered and egotistical as his ex-wife. She wanted, probably needed, to be the center of attention. She knew she was pretty, that men found her attractive, and that fact fed her sizable ego.

It wasn’t that Jim didn’t like Robyn. He did. But he’d been badly burned by one extremely high-maintenance woman and tended to steer clear of others like her. Then again, he might make an exception where Robyn Granger was concerned.

Just as Jim took his first bite of scrumptious pie, Bernie’s cell phone rang.

“Oh dear, I wish you could turn that thing off at the dinner table.” Brenda sighed. “But I know you can’t, your being the sheriff and all. You’d think I’d be used to having my dinners interrupted by business calls.”