Hunter √

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

THE NEXT FEW DAYS TURNED OUT to be the worst of Devon's life.

She overslept on Tuesday and missed Coffee and Comics with the seniors. She locked her keys in the rental car Darell had given her since her own car still wasn't fixed. She broke her hell during the short walk home. She ripped a hole in her favourite nightshirt crawling into bed that night and stabbed herself in the eye the next morning with the mascara wand.

The bad luck continued through out the day---she stepped in the pile of dog poop on the way to work, accidentally deleted part of next week's schedule on her computer, then set Mr Periwinkle's toupee on fire when she was lighting table candles in the senior dining room that evening.

While she made it to work on Thursday morning in time for Muffin Mania---a truth or dare type game followed by muffins and juice on the patio---she still missed most of the fun due to a mix-up in the food delivery for Friday night's sock hop. Once she'd managed to get two hundred spicy mini burritos (a definite no-no with her clientele) exchanged for the requested pigs-in-a-bucket, it was already well past noon.

She ended up eating leftovers for lunch in the dining room---chipped beef and Jell-O---because she'd forgotten to bring her own.

"You've definitely got something on your mind," Louise told her when they both hit the cafeteria at the same time. The old woman had missed the meal, too, thanks to an addiction to  much-loved Times of Our Lives, a new soap opera that aired at noon." A man?" she asked when Devon mistook a glass of prune juice for ice tea.

"Not exactly."

"Either he is or she isn't." The old woman took a bite of her own Jell-O. "In any case. I'm here if you need me. And just so's you know, I've got oodles of experience when it comes to matters of the heart. Been counselling my granddaughter for ages."

"The accountant?"

"That's the one."

A grin tugged at Devon's lips. "The single accountant?"

"It ain't my fault if she don't listen to what i tell her. She's too interested in them stuffy types and they're more interested in work. There's never any sparks. You gotta have the sparks. Preferably a great big Roman candle, but one of those witty bitty sparklers will work, too. Just so long as it's enough fireworks to put a gleam in your eye. Like the one you got in yours. You're a lucky gal. Very lucky."

Devon's head snapped up and for a split second, she would have sworn that Louise was taking about Hunter Braddock. "Excuse me?"

"That you found Me. Starch Pants. You've obviously got a nice little fireworks show going on between the two of you judging by the look on your face."

"Um, yeah." Sort of. Greg was lacking in the romance department and he wasn't the most thoughtful man, but he was the right man.

The only man, she told herself for the millionth time since Hunter had walked into her life.

Louise eyed her and she had unnerving feeling that the woman was seeing a lot more than she wanted her to. "You do love him, don't you?"

Yes was right there, but it stalled on the tip of her tongue. "There are more important things than love."

"Really? Like what?"

"Trust. Respect."

"I trust Morty Milne over there," she pointed an arthritic finger at a small, frail man with eyeglasses and a lot of nose hair. "The man was a judge for years and he's the fairest person i know. I also respect him, but you couldn't get me down the aisle with him if you had a cattle prod poking me in the ass." She wagged her Jell-O spoon. "Love is the most important thing and if anybody tells you different, they've never been in love. I married to my dear Arnold for forty-five years and they were the best of my life."