Tied to the Tracks by Rosina Lippi

said.
     
    Rivera said, “Good for Caroline Rose.” And laughed again at the small, tight smile that was all the answer Angie could summon.
     
     
 
Angie thought a lot about Caroline Rose, for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely. Caroline was tall, elegant, silver blond, immaculately groomed and dressed. She had turned out to be not only John’s fiancée and colleague but Miss Zula’s unofficial assistant in all things. There was no avoiding her, and, worse luck, no way to dislike her, either.
     
    Early in the morning of another day that promised to be scorching hot, Angie sat by the river and contemplated the vagaries of fate that had brought her to this place at this particular point in time, when John was about to get married. Angie crossed her arms over her upraised knees and rested her forehead on the cool skin of her forearms and thought about the fix she was in. The truth was, she would have paid pretty much any price to get back her peace of mind and a few hours of sound sleep. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she’d have to take the first step, find John, and lay down some ground rules, get things said and out of the way.
     
    If she only knew what to say. If only he didn’t have better things to be thinking about just now than a neurotic, obsessive ex-girlfriend. An arrow to the crotch, for one, and his upcoming wedding, for another.
     
    “Angie?”
     
    The odd thing was, she must have finally drifted off to sleep sitting in the sun, because she was dreaming about Caroline Rose, who seemed to be floating across the lawn toward her.
     
    Angie righted herself so quickly that a sharp, sudden pain shot up her back.
     
    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Caroline said, looking as uncertain and embarrassed as Angie felt. “And I realize that it’s very early to be calling, but I do have a good reason. May I?”
     
    “Sure.” Angie moved to the far end of the bench, wondering just how much of an ass she was about to make of herself and what she would say if Caroline Rose raised those topics Angie least wanted to talk about. She looked toward the house and sent a silent plea to Rivera. Come rescue me.
     
    “Miss Zula and Miss Maddie sent me,” said Caroline. “To see if you’d like to come by for breakfast.”
     
    “Breakfast?” Angie echoed. A spark of professional interest overrode her discomfort. All week they had been waiting for this first invitation to the little house on Magnolia Street, and here it was.
     
    “It’s a tradition, once a month,” Caroline was explaining. “The god-daughters’ breakfast. Miss Zula is my godmother and Miss Maddie is my sister Harriet’s godmother. Once in a while they invite someone else to join us.” Her hands fluttered up out of her lap and then fell again. “All women, of course.”
     
    “Of course,” Angie echoed. All women meant no John Grant, which was a good thing just now. She said, “Look, tell me honestly. Will Miss Zula be insulted if I send my regrets?”
     
    Caroline looked distinctly surprised at such a suggestion. “It’s very hard to insult Miss Zula if you’re being honest,” she said. “Miss Maddie is another matter, of course. She does love to cook for folks.”
     
    “Then I’d be happy to,” Angie said, resigned. “I’ll just get my shoes.”
     
    Caroline’s gaze jumped toward the house and back again. “The invitation was for both of you. Would Rivera be interested, do you think?”
     
    “If I can get her out of bed,” Angie said. “Let me—”
     
    “There’s John,” said Caroline.
     
    Angie went very still. “John?”
     
    “John,” echoed Caroline. She pointed with her chin. “Just there.”
     
    Full of dread, Angie turned toward the river and took it in: the graceful bend of the willows, the sun on the water, and the sweep of oars as the single scull came into view. John Grant, tousle-headed, as though he had gone directly from bed to the river, his skin flushed with sun