The Perfect Hope Part 46

As he carted the tray out, Hope pressed her lips together to hold back the laugh. "Awesome," she murmured.

"What is he, twelve?"

"Twenty-one, both of them. She had her birthday just last week. They looked so young I carded them." She got out another bottle of wine. "Why don't you open that wine while I call this order in? If you'd rather beer, there's some in the fridge."

"Wine's okay." A little change of pace, he decided. Like the woman. He poured a gla.s.s for each of them, sampled his own. And decided he could develop a taste for change of pace.

After she'd placed the order, he nodded toward the stove. "What's cooking?"

"Warming, since I can't take credit for the cooking. Beef medallions, roasted fingerlings, b.u.t.ter-glazed carrots and peas. And there's a little scallop appetizer."

"Sounds good."

She got out the appetizer. "Try it and see."

He took a sample. "It's good. Red Hots has the touch."

"She does. She worked in a pizza joint when we were in college. I always knew when she'd made the pie. It was just that much better."

"She dove right into Vesta, and she makes it work."

"She's the dive-in type." Deciding she might as well go with the first part of her evening plans, she added a dish of olives, slid onto a stool. Appetizers and conversation here, dinner in The Dining Room. Phase Three would have to wait until tomorrow.

The dog bellied under the stools.

"Were you surprised when Avery and Owen got together?"

"Not especially. He's had a thing for her since we were kids."

"And Beckett had one for Clare since high school, and carried that spark all those years."

"He always knew she was with Clint. He never messed with that. Suffered in secret," Ryder added. "Unless you lived with him. He used to write really c.r.a.ppy love-ripped-my-still-beating-heart-out-of-my-chest songs and sing them in his room till Owen and I threatened to beat him with bricks."

"Really?" She laughed, trying to picture it. "That's so sweet. The songwriting, not the bricks. Were you friends with Clint?"

"Yeah, not close, really. We played football together, got drunk together a time or two. Mostly he was centered on Clare, like she was on him, and looking to join the service."

"So young, both of them. Like Chip and Marlie."

"Who?"

"Wesley and b.u.t.tercup-the almost newlyweds. I didn't meet Clare until she moved back to Boonsboro and Avery introduced us. After Clint died."

"Hard time for her. She looked-"

"Go on," she said when he broke off. "Tell me."

"Delicate, I guess. Like you could shatter her with a hard look. The two kids, basically babies, the runt still in the oven. But she wasn't. Delicate, I mean; not down into it. Clare's got more spine than anyone I know."

She thought it might be his longest single discourse on any one person since she'd met him. More, the bone-deep affection and admiration came through.

She'd seen that affection and admiration for her friends, but hearing it touched her.

"I'm lucky to have her and Avery in my life. If I didn't, I'd probably be in Chicago now instead of here. That's where I thought my compa.s.s would point after Jonathan. Here's better."

"Can't figure what you saw in him."

Hope sipped her wine, studied Ryder. "Do you want to know?"

"We're sitting here."

"All right. I don't want to compare myself to Clint-his service, his sacrifice, but like him, I had a life plan. It runs in my family. My sister wanted to be a vet since she was eight, and my brother always wanted the law. I loved hotels, the drama, the puzzles, the people, the constancy and the flux. All of it. So my life plan was to manage a hotel. The right hotel, in the right spot. That was the Wickham. Jonathan was part of the Wickham, and as cla.s.sy-so I thought-and elegant as it is."

"That'd be your type."

"Cla.s.sy and elegant has its pull," she qualified. "And he was charming, believe me. He knew art and music and wine and fas.h.i.+on. I learned, and I wanted to. He pursued me, and that was flattering and exciting. His family opened the doors for me, and that was heady. My life plan expanded. I'd manage the Wickham, marry Jonathan. We'd be one of D.C.'s power couples. I'd entertain, brilliantly, manage the hotel, again brilliantly, eventually have two children we'd both adore, and so on ... I know exactly how shallow all that sounds."

"I don't know about that. It's a plan."

"I thought I loved him, so that's a factor. But I didn't." Realizing that had been both comfort and pain. "He didn't break my heart, and he should have. He broke my spirit, and that's lowering. He shattered my pride, and that's hard to come back from. But he didn't break my heart, so in some ways I understand, now, I used him, too."

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

His instant and terse opinion surprised her. "Really?"

"Really. He pursued you, your term. His family went right along with it. You had reason to believe things were going according to that plan. And you thought you loved him. Maybe you were stupid, but you didn't use him."

She considered. "I think I like the idea of using him more than being stupid."

"It's finished anyway."

"Yes, it is. So. You. You have two brothers who hold long-term affection from a young age. Any torches held?"

"Me?" The idea amused him a little. "No. I leave that to Owen and Beck."

"No broken hearts or spirits?"

"Cameron Diaz. She doesn't know I exist. It's tough to take."

He made her laugh again. "I have that same problem with Bradley Cooper. What's wrong with them?"

"Got me. We're as hot as they are."

"Absolutely. Plus, you probably look more natural in a tool belt than Bradley. Tool belts are also hot," she explained. "They're like gun belts-Old West cowboy gun belts. When a man's wearing one-naturally-a woman knows he can handle himself."

"That's a lot for a tool belt."

She pointed at him. "You like my shoes."