Taking On Twins. Carolyn Zane

were in the café for lunch?” She tried to fill the yawning chasm in their conversation with idle chat.

      “Yes. You knew? You should have come up and said hello.”

      “I didn’t see you. I heard you. Sort of. I thought. There was a lot of noise.”

      From the back room, there was an explosion of five-year-old laughter and Chopper’s loud barkings. In an abstract way she wondered what they were up to now. But, rooted as she was to her spot, there was no way to tell.

      “You have children,” Wyatt said, seeming to refocus from the past to the present.

      “Yes. Two. You?”

      “No. Never married.”

      Again, Annie’s heart stalled. “No?”

      “Never felt the need. Never found the time. Never—” he shrugged “—fell in love.”

      “Oh.” She echoed his shrug with a small lift of her own shoulders. “There is still time.”

      “There is always time.”

      At a complete loss, Annie stood, her gaze darting about, her tongue searching her teeth for a piece of spinach she just knew was there. It seemed that no matter how they tried, their conversation was awkward and feeling the strain of the years and a messy break-up.

      Just when she felt she couldn’t take another minute of the emotional stress, her sons, shrieking with laughter, burst from the playroom, leading poor Chopper by—she stopped and stared in mortification—a bra strap.

      “Look, Mom! Chopper’s got a hat!” Alex pointed to the bra cup that they’d pinned over the dog’s head. Poor Chopper, looking quaintly Amish and decidedly miserable, cast a baleful look upon Annie for a rescue. The second cup was strapped under the dog’s chin and, in the style of a good mountain rescue St. Bernard, they’d tucked in a plastic juice bottle.

      “It was his idea,” Noah shouted, pointing at his brother.

      “It was not. It was your idea!”

      “Naa-uh!”

      “Uh-huh!”

      Noting their mother’s flaming cheeks, they squealed and danced with glee.

      Wyatt looked from the dog, to the boys, to Annie, and just like the day they’d met, threw back his head and roared with laughter. At first, Annie did not see the humor in the situation at all, but the harder they all laughed, the funnier it all became, and soon she too was joining in.

      “You boys take the dog into the back room and get that thing off him and put it back in my gym bag, where you found it. And,” she directed as they reluctantly capitulated, “straighten up back there, will you?”

      Moaning and groaning all the way, they disappeared into the playroom.

      Wyatt was still smiling. “They’re cute. They remind me of you.”

      “I was much better behaved than they are.”

      “I doubt that. You must remember, I know you.”

      “Yes, I guess you do.” Annie smiled, the comfort of their old union slipping around her like a favored robe. “Wyatt, why are you really here?”

      “I really do have some business here in town. But, at the same time, I have a few things I need to—”

      A customer left and Annie called after her, “Thank you. Please come again.”

      “—I need to say to you.”

      “To me?”

      “Ma’am?” Another customer stepped between them. “Do you have old salt-and-pepper shakers?”

      “Over there in that glass case.” Annie pointed.

      “I saw those. Do you have any more? I’m a collector. I have a set just like those little hens you have there and I paid half of what you’re asking.”

      Wyatt’s heavy sigh signaled his impatience. Annie bit back a grin. Just like the old days.

      “I have a few in the glass case under the register, but they’re rare and even more expensive.”

      “I’ll look.” The collector sniffed.

      “I’m sorry.” Annie turned to Wyatt. “What were you saying?”

      “Oh. Well, I was just trying to say that…” He ran his fingers over his jaw. “I thought maybe we could talk. Recently, it’s occurred to me that I should apologize for being such an idiot back when—”

      “Are these the rare shakers?” the collector called, pointing to a wooden case opposite the register that housed tea sets.

      “No. Under the register. Glass case.” She waved a distracted hand, still staring at Wyatt. “I’m sorry.”