Her Great Expectations. Joan Kilby

      Sienna gazed at the haze hanging over the ruin of a kitchen. It wasn’t the work and the mess she minded. It was another evening on her own. Glyneth couldn’t help that. She straightened her shoulders. “Oh, you know me—I open a packet and heat. I’m just sorry you’re stuck out there with car trouble. How about next weekend?”

      “We can’t. It’s Rex’s niece’s wedding.” Glyneth’s phone started to crackle with static. “I’m dropping out. I’d better go. I’ll call you and we’ll catch up soon.”

      Sienna hung up and rubbed her right temple where a headache was starting. She rummaged in her purse for a bottle of painkillers. Jack Thatcher’s card fell out.

      She stared at the bold black letters of his name on the white card. Now that her plans had fallen through did she have the guts to take him up on his invitation? Bev had personally vouched for Jack Thatcher, so Sienna wasn’t worried that he was some random wacko. And she’d been looking for an opportunity to get out and meet people.

      Sienna wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. She just wanted a distraction and a few friendly faces to fill an otherwise solitary evening. And for all Jack Thatcher’s banter she didn’t think he was interested, either. He seemed the type to have invited the whole grocery store to dinner.

      She’d always been cautious, too controlled to do things on the spur of the moment. Plan ahead had been her motto. That was how she’d gotten through med school and how she’d coped with a demanding workload while being a wife and mother. That hadn’t worked so well, she thought wryly. So maybe this was something else in her life she should change. Maybe it was time she trusted her instinct and gave in to impulse.

      Before she could talk herself out of it, she wrapped up the food she’d been cooking and put it back in the fridge. A quick shower and a change into her favorite little black dress perked up her spirits. She put her hair up, applied fresh makeup and slipped into her best pair of shoes.

      Then she wrote a note for Oliver and left it on the kitchen counter where he’d see it when he came in. Leaving a light burning over the stove, she slipped out the front door into a fragrant spring evening that suddenly seemed alive with possibility.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE DOORBELL RANG just as Jack was sprinkling a generous handful of fresh coriander over the bubbling curry, sending up a pungent, mouthwatering aroma. Maybe Dad decided to come after all. He carried the brimming wok to the table, where fat brown candles glowed on either side of a bowl of floating gardenias. Andrea Bocelli’s deep tones provided a mellow backdrop to the hum of conversation and laughter.

      “Dinner’s ready,” he announced to his guests. “Go ahead and start. I’ll be right back.”

      As everyone found a place, Renita started dishing out bowls of rice and curry, passing them around the table.

      Jack strode down the hall. It would be good if Steve came. He probably wasn’t cooking for himself, with Hetty away on her retreat. He swung open the door. “Hi, D—” he began. Then was lost for words.

      The woman from the grocery store stood on his doorstep.

      Only, it wasn’t her.

      Her gloriously wild hair was tamed into a tightly pinned knot at her nape. She wore a black cocktail dress, high heels and pearls. God forbid he of all people should judge by appearances, but this woman was not the same one he’d invited to dinner.

      “My plans fell through…” She trailed off. The nervous smile on her carefully made-up face froze. Uneasiness radiating from her in waves, she presented him with a bottle of red wine. “This isn’t very suitable for curry. I didn’t stop to get another bottle, since I’m already late—”

      “It’s okay. I mean, thanks. Come in,” he said finally, recovering his manners just this side of rudeness. “It’s great you could make it.” He stepped back to let her inside. “Er, I never did catch your name.”

      SIENNA TOOK ONE LOOK at Jack’s white T-shirt and faded jeans and cringed. She hadn’t missed the bitten-off greeting or his surprise. Whoever he’d been expecting to open the door to, it wasn’t her. Dressing up, automatic in her old crowd, had been a huge mistake. How embarrassing. This was what she got for trying to be spontaneous.

      “Sienna Maxwell.” She licked her lips, tried to take a breath and felt her dress constrict around her rib cage. Hairpins stretched her hair painfully across her skull. She wished she could rip off the pearls and stash them in her purse. Voices, laughter and music came from the other room. There were a lot of people here. “I should have called first.”

      “No, it’s fine.” He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

      It wasn’t fine. She could tell by the tense set of his shoulders as he led the way through the living room and down a short hallway lined with photos. She caught fleeting glimpses of windswept airfields and small airplanes taking off before she was ushered into the dining room.

      The candlelit table surrounded by glowing faces was reflected in the darkened floor-to-ceiling windows. Exotic spicy smells filled the air, reminding Sienna she hadn’t eaten since lunch, seven hours earlier. Luckily no one would have heard her rumbling stomach over the velvety background music.

      Leaning on their elbows, waving wineglasses, Jack’s guests were garrulous and jovial. This was exactly the atmosphere she’d wished to find herself in when she’d made the move to Summerside. Except that in the reality of it, she was out of place. An uptight city girl. All eyes turned to regard her curiously. In her designer dress and Manolo Blahnik shoes Sienna couldn’t have felt more conspicuous if she’d been wearing her white coat and a stethoscope.

      Jack introduced her, then went around the table, firing off the names of his other guests. Standing stiffly, Sienna nodded and smiled, trying to remember who was who. There were more women than men—a major no-no at her friends’ dinner parties. She was adding to the uneven gender mix.

      Sienna turned to Jack so that her back was to the others and spoke in a low voice. “I’m intruding. I should go.”

      “No, please.” His dark eyes were serious as he touched her elbow. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

      She searched his face. He seemed sincere. “Well…okay.”

      A plump woman with a dark ponytail—Renita?—jumped up to grab an empty chair and pushed it to the table next to hers. “Sit here,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’ll get you a plate.”

      Amid jostling and good-natured squabbles, everyone pulled in their chairs as Sienna edged around the table, brushing against the ferns that framed the windows. Smiling fixedly, she could feel every eye follow her. Finally she sank gratefully into her chair, only to find Jack seated at the end kitty-corner to her, so close their knees touched. Did this not constitute a need for that card table?

      “Sorry,” she murmured, trying to edge away, but her chair was hard up against the one belonging to the woman with the ponytail…Renita. Sienna breathed and forced her shoulders to relax, fighting her urge to run.

      Give these people a chance. Give yourself a chance.

      You’ve been out of circulation for too long.

      Jack set her bottle of wine in the middle of the table. “Did you want the red or would you like sauvignon blanc? It goes well with curry.”

      “No wine for me, thanks,” Sienna said, putting a hand over her glass. “I’m driving.”

      It was an excuse. She could easily have one glass of wine without worrying about being impaired. Truth be told, she was nervous. When she was nervous she sometimes drank too much. Doctors weren’t supposed to do that. She certainly wasn’t about to admit she was afraid of getting tipsy and making a bad impression.

      “You won’t be driving for hours yet.” Jack lifted her wrist away from