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“It was his idea,” Noah shouted, pointing at his brother.
“It was not. It was your idea!”
“Naa-uh!”
“Uh-huh!”
Noting their mother’s flaming cheeks, they squealed and danced with glee.
Wyatt looked from the dog, to the boys, to Annie, and just like the day they’d met, threw back his head and roared with laughter. At first, Annie did not see the humor in the situation at all, but the harder they all laughed, the funnier it all became, and soon she too was joining in.
“You boys take the dog into the back room and get that thing off him and put it back in my gym bag, where you found it. And,” she directed as they reluctantly capitulated, “straighten up back there, will you?”
Moaning and groaning all the way, they disappeared into the playroom.
Wyatt was still smiling. “They’re cute. They remind me of you.”
“I was much better behaved than they are.”
“I doubt that. You must remember, I know you.”
“Yes, I guess you do.” Annie smiled, the comfort of their old union slipping around her like a favored robe. “Wyatt, why are you really here?”
“I really do have some business here in town. But, at the same time, I have a few things I need to—”
A customer left and Annie called after her, “Thank you. Please come again.”
“—I need to say to you.”
“To me?”
“Ma’am?” Another customer stepped between them. “Do you have old salt-and-pepper shakers?”
“Over there in that glass case.” Annie pointed.
“I saw those. Do you have any more? I’m a collector. I have a set just like those little hens you have there and I paid half of what you’re asking.”
Wyatt’s heavy sigh signaled his impatience. Annie bit back a grin. Just like the old days.
“I have a few in the glass case under the register, but they’re rare and even more expensive.”
“I’ll look.” The collector sniffed.
“I’m sorry.” Annie turned to Wyatt. “What were you saying?”
“Oh. Well, I was just trying to say that…” He ran his fingers over his jaw. “I thought maybe we could talk. Recently, it’s occurred to me that I should apologize for being such an idiot back when—”
“Are these the rare shakers?” the collector called, pointing to a wooden case opposite the register that housed tea sets.
“No. Under the register. Glass case.” She waved a distracted hand, still staring at Wyatt. “I’m sorry.”
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