The table was set, the duck roasting away in the oven. I’d planned dinner for seven, just to be safe, but by now it was past six and still nothing from Connor. If he was closing the store at five, then what in the world was taking him so long?
Maybe a customer had come in at the last minute. Even so, it shouldn’t be taking this long. I turned on the oven light and peered in, but I was still far from having to worry about overcooking the bird; it had only been in there for half an hour. No, my checking on it was nerves more than anything else.
For a minute I contemplated running upstairs to check my hair and makeup, but I hadn’t done anything to mess up either of those, so that was just me coming up with a way to kill some time. I didn’t have any footwear except the riding boots I’d picke
