The rhythmic pounding of feet on the treadmill helped dull the drumming in his head.  Two months hadn’t erased her footprint in his life.  Seeing her at the meeting was hard- too hard.  Why was this such a difficult thing?  Why did he care as much as he did?  He’d known her for years.  Why couldn’t he see her as the young daughter of a former client?

Even now, he could feel her arm on his when making a request or encouraging him in some way.  He saw her eyes roaming over his apartment, remembered the expression on her face after her first bite of sushi, and the earnest way she listened to his thoughts on the lake project until Bill thought he’d go crazy with the memories.  If she’d only been willing to give it a chance-

His hand shoved the lever to ‘off’ nearly snapping it off in the process.  What was wrong with him?  In just a few weeks of contact with Willow, he’d fallen for her in a way he never had for anyone else.  It was ridiculous, premature, and he knew it.  He also knew it was genuine and the loss of what might have been hurt him more than any of his actual relationships ever had.

He tried to be pragmatic about it but the fact remained, his heart was heavy.  She’d learned to be comfortable in the city- well; she’d learned not to be afraid of it.  She liked the store, the museums, and the botanical gardens- he’d never taken her to the zoo.  He’d promised.

Without allowing himself to consider the consequences, Bill dialed her number.  “Willow.  How are you?”

After several minutes of idle chatter about her fall preparations, her progress on the designs, and the apparent success of her physical therapy, Bill mentioned the weather forcast.  “It’s supposed to be in the mid sixties on Saturday!”

“Wow.  I thought maybe we were done with warmer weather,” she replied uncertain what the weather had to do with anything.

“I promised you a trip to the zoo this fall.  I think this is the last Saturday we’ll get a good view of all the animals.”

Willow chewed her lip.  She wanted to go.  She’d missed Bill and his friendship.  Seeing him at the meeting had been difficult when she knew their afternoon wouldn’t be filled with camaraderie and a new experience.  He had a particular talent for giving her special experiences.

Bill’s voice hesitantly added, “I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.  I wouldn’t pressure you- I just,” his tone dropped to a whisper.  “I missed you.”

“I’ll come.”

A minute passed, two.  “Are you coming because I asked or because you want to come?”

“I want to come because you asked.

***

The road to Fairbury never seemed so long.  His car whizzed around the curves and finally into Willow’s driveway.  He hoped she was home- the thought made him laugh.  Of course, she was home.  Where would she go and how would she get there?

He didn’t see anyone in the house, the barn, or anywhere nearby.  He sighed at the sight of the wood stacked against the house.  She’d cut, split, and stacked it all.  Why did she live like this?  He didn’t understand.  Saige yapped at him from the barn but he ignored it.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard a voice.  “Chuck!  Hey!”

Down past the barn coming up from the trees, Chuck saw Willow carrying a bow over one shoulder and something unidentifiable on the other.  As they met in the middle, he realized that she was carrying a turkey.  “Did you shoot that thing?”

“Yep.  For Thanksgiving.  Mother always cleaned it after I shot it.  Do you want to clean it for me?”

“I wouldn’t know how but I’ll help you eat it.”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “Was that an invitation for an invitation for Thanksgiving?”

“It was more of a shameless hint for one.”

Willow grinned.  “You’re on.  You bring the cranberry sauce.”

“Do you make pumpkin pie?”

“Of course,” she exclaimed insulted.

“Sweet potatoes and marshmallow crème?”

Her nose wrinkled.  “Ew.”

“I accept.”

At the barn, Chuck watched as she put several huge pots on the stove and filled them with water.  He grew sick as she tore out a few feathers and then cut the bird removing the entrails.  He sat down weakly and turned his head as her knife dug into the neck and she reached for the crop.

“That is so disgusting.  Forget that, it’s vile.  Maybe tofu turkey isn’t such a bad idea.”

“We make great turkey and dressing.  Oh and gravy, gravy is great.”

Half an hour, and a doused turkey later, Willow talked to him as she plucked it.  “What’s your favorite animal?”

“The one that is leaving me alone,” he groused as he attempted subtlety shoving the dog away.”

“I mean at the zoo.”

“Zoos are great.  They stick the animals where they can’t bother you but you can look at them if you feel like it.”

Carefully ignoring the obnoxiousness, Willow refocused the discussion.  “You didn’t say which one was your favorite.”

Chuck’s voice grew thoughtful.  “I think that’s a first.”

“First of what?”

He took a deep breath, obviously moved.  “No one ever asks me a question twice.”  He dropped his head before he met her curious gaze.  “They’re usually relieved that the question died.”

Her heart clenched.  In many ways, he was much more alone than she was.  “Well, if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked so of course I asked again.”

“I like flamingos.”

“Oh, do they have flamingos?”  Her mind raced.  Flamingos were the last thing she’d expected.

“They’re bold, beautiful, and so graceful.”

The sun was setting with the color of flamingos streaking through the clouds as she finally shoved the turkey in the freezer and wiped her arm across her forehead.  “I need a shower.”

“Hey, after that shower, we can go get something to eat and see a movie or something- We could even go to Brunswick and go bowling if you like?”

“I’ve never been to Brunswick.”

Chuck grinned.  She hadn’t said no.  “Go take that shower.”

“Go milk Willie.”

His grin grew.  “Milk the goat, and then take your shower.”

***

“So if you get three strikes it’s a turkey?  Are you kidding me?”  Willow’s laughter was infectious.

“Well, I thought it was appropriate.”

“So you got your turkey today and I got mine,” she chortled.

Willow picked up her ball.  “My turn.  No gutters.”

“You miss the gutter and I’ll buy you ice cream when we’re done.”

“I’ll miss,” she insisted as she swung the ball.  The second it rolled into the gutter, she set her hands on her hips, swiveled and glared at him.  “Next swing.”

“Bowl.”

“Whatever.”

He poked her rib.  “You’re sounding incredibly modern.”

Willow didn’t know what she’d said or done to prompt that remark but she was curious.  “Is that good or bad?”

“Indifferent.”

She grinned.  “I told Chad you were indifferent to me.  You just proved me right.  You might be my new hero.  I am discovering that I like being right.”

Her next ball rolled painfully slowly down the lane.  It wove slightly back and forth and hit the center pin.  Four pins toppled, one wobbled but didn’t fall.  “Slacker.”

Chuck’s face was priceless.  Only Willow Finley would insult a bowling pin for not falling over as expected.  “I owe you ice cream.  And you have now broken the ten point mark!”

“Is there a prize for getting the least amount of points?  I think I’d win.”

“Want me to have them blow up the bumpers?”

She looked at him blankly.  “Bumpers?”

“Long tubes that fill up the gutters and make the ball bounce around until it knocks over pins.”

“What a cheater’s way of not learning.  Sounds like something for little kids like those training wheels I wanted and Chad wouldn’t get me.”

“Well…”  Chuck wasn’t sure it was a good idea to mention that they were for children.

“And besides, I think I could manage to consistently just miss it at the back up there anyway.”

By the end of the game, she’d racked up an impressive seventeen points.  “I want ice cream.  I think this game must be like woodwork.  I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can, once you get used to it and your leg heals a bit more.”

“You think my leg-”

Chuck nodded emphatically.  “I can see it in the way you move up the lane.  Walking on the street you hardly limp at all, but here where the shoes and floor is slick, you favor it more.”

As Willow removed her shoes, she glanced down the lane.  She grabbed Chuck’s ball, as well as hers, and returned them to the racks.  On the way back to his car, Willow nudged Chuck companionably.  “We have to do this again.  I’m going to learn this.  Does Fairbury have an alley?”

“Nope.”

“Drat.”

***

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?  I mean-” Chad tried again.  “Aunt Libby said something the other day that I thought made a lot of sense.”

“What’d she say?”  Libby Sullivan’s opinion meant a great deal to her.

“Well,” he began awkwardly.  How do you tell someone that you aren’t interested in her as much as some might wish you were. “Aunt Libby was warning me, she was afraid I might- well, that spending so much time together-”

“She thought you were following in Bill’s footsteps.”

“Right- well, she thought I might anyway.  And she warned me.  She said that you needed time to have real friends without any romantic strings attached.  I think she’s right.”

With a smile in her voice, Willow assured him she wasn’t looking for anything of the kind.  “Bill knows I’m not moving there; I know he’s not moving here.  Romance just isn’t going to happen.  And Mrs. Sullivan is right.  There’s too much in my life that is new for me to add any more.”  She smiled as she remembered the previous night’s game.  “Except for maybe bowling.”

“Bowling?”

“Yeah,” she said still smiling.  “I went bowling in Brunswick with Chuck last night.  I got a score of seventeen, ate ice cream, and walked the streets of Brunswick.  It’s bigger than Fairbury but it’s not as big as Rockland I don’t think.  I saw the police station.  Is that where you go sometimes?”

“Yeah.  So you went out with Chuck huh?”

He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.  While his responses must have been reasonably normal, Chad’s mind spun out in unreasonable directions.  Why was he perfectly content with the idea of Bill and Willow spending a day together but the idea of her enjoying herself with Chuck kicked him in the gut?  It didn’t make sense and he knew it.

As he climbed into his truck, Chad remembered something.  He slammed the door shut and punched her number.  Through the living room window, he could see her silhouette as she answered the phone.  “I forgot.”

“What?”

“I talked to my dad yesterday and he invited you to Thanksgiving at our house.”

Chad didn’t know what he’d expected her to say.  He understood that she might not be interested in spending her day with a group of strangers but he’d hoped she might.  Her answer, however, surprised him. “I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“I invited Chuck to eat at my house.  Actually, he kind of invited himself.”

Shaking his head in amazement, Chad sighed. “That sounds like Chuck.”

Disappointment filled Willow’s voice.  “I wish I had known.  I wouldn’t have gone turkey hunting and then the topic wouldn’t have come up and I wouldn’t have invited him.”

“You want to come?”  For some reason, Chad was surprised.

“Of course, but I can’t just call Chuck and say, ‘Sorry, I got a better invitation.’”

“He would,” Chad thought irritably.  “See if Chuck wants to come to my house too.”

“Really?  I know you don’t like him.”

He stifled the surprise in his voice.  “I never said that.”

“Chad, you didn’t have to.  Anyone could tell.  Chuck’s deliberately blind much of the time but he’s not stupid.”

“That’s what you think.” Aloud, he assured her his invitation was genuine.  “Call and see if he’ll consider dinner with the Tesdall-Sullivan clan.”

Just as he started to click off the phone, Willow’s voice rushed back onto the line.  “Hey, does your mom need a turkey?”