A Summer In Europe Read Free Page A

about the particulars of his workday. A morning meeting. The latest big claims. Some funny memos from his coworkers. An upcoming conference. After twenty-three months of serious dating, she knew almost as much about the minutiae of his office job as she did about her own school district. It wasn’t uninteresting, though. Just kind of ... unchanging. “And, oh. There’s going to be a company Fourth of July picnic next week, so mark your calendar,” he told her.
    There was an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes as he spoke about this event. Was he thinking of introducing her as his fiancée at the picnic? “Of course,” she said, elated.
    He beamed at her and chitchatted some more. He remained very much his usual self throughout the meal—indomitably polite to the waitstaff, expressing delight when their platters arrived, enthusiastic about events coming up in the near future—nothing seemed remotely out of the ordinary. This was comforting.
    Gwen fidgeted with her fork and studied her plate, heaped with rich foods: a solid cut of Angus steak smothered in a mushroom sauce, shrimp and scallops with melted butter, a few superbly prepared sides. Richard dug in enthusiastically. He looked to be enjoying every bite and fully expected her to do the same. Under normal circumstances, she would have considered it too heavy a meal, perhaps, but she would have appreciated it much more than she did just then. Her stomach was churning strangely, however, and she could barely manage to eat a third of the platter.
    “Don’t you like it?” he whispered, sounding worried when she told him she was going to ask their waiter for a carryout box. “If it’s not cooked well, or if you’d rather have the baked chicken like we usually get, I can order that for you instead.”
    “No. This is great. Really. I’m just full already, and I know I have to save room for some dinner and birthday cake tonight at Aunt Bea’s.”
    “Ah,” he said, not unpleasantly, but Gwen couldn’t help but detect the shadow that darkened his face upon hearing her aunt’s name. There was a perpetual unease between the two of them and, even though they’d spent several occasions together during the time she and Richard had been a steady couple, an awkwardness that almost approached dislike lingered between them.
    It was an odd thing, really. Particularly given both of their compassionate natures. Her aunt, while certainly quirky, was a source of everlasting kindness and strength in Gwen’s life—the lone mother figure she’d had when her mom (Aunt Beatrice’s younger sister) died when Gwen was twelve, and her only living relative in the area. She owed her aunt so much.
    And Richard ...
    He’d been there for her when she’d first moved to Dubuque and had felt so alone. He was so calm and gentle with everyone, especially his clients. A remarkably empathetic insurance agent. She’d seen him in action on a few occasions when there had been a car accident or a house fire. He seemed unfazed by disaster. Placid in the face of grief. A guy who could be counted on to be cool under pressure and help out the victims in crisis. How comforting it was to be around a man so reliable and proficient in emergencies!
    And, yet, he didn’t seem to like her aunt very much, who’d been nothing but—well, her naturally sweet but sort of nutty self with him. Gwen found their silent antagonism endlessly mystifying. But, of course, it would be impolite to mention this to either.
    “So, nothing for you from the dessert menu then, Birthday Girl?” Richard asked, clasping her hand on the tabletop and squeezing gently. “Maybe a cup of vanilla ice cream?”
    She shook her head. “No, thanks. But this was delicious.” She pointed to her entrée, ready to be boxed up, and poked around a little just to make sure nothing special was hidden underneath a fat scallop or a buttery shrimp. Nope. “I’ll enjoy the rest later,” she told him, a little disappointed that he hadn’t