Free Hannah's List by Debbie Macomber Page B

to the exit.
    Pierre didn’t follow, and that was just as well. She’d learned the answer to her unspoken question. Pierre was completely and utterly indifferent to her. His one concern was whether she might be pregnant. He was no more ready to be a husband and father than…than the man in the moon.
    Hurrying into the street, Winter paused, her pulse beating in her ear like a sledgehammer. Breathless, she leaned against the building and placed both hands over her heart.
    The meeting had gone so much worse than she’dexpected. Pierre didn’t need three months to decide about their relationship. Apparently, he didn’t even need three weeks. His decision had been made. Which meant hers was, too.
    It was over.
    Her life with Pierre had come to an end.
    If Dr. Michael Everett was interested in pursuing a relationship, then Winter needed to open her heart to the possibility.

Chapter Eight
    M onday morning I met Ritchie at the gym. The Saturday afternoon we’d spent together had lifted my spirits. Max’s softball game had gone well—his team had won—and it felt good to sit in the bleachers with the other parents and cheer on my nephew. Max, at almost nine, was a terrific kid. Afterward, the two of us played Xbox until Steph called us down for dinner. As soon as we’d finished, we both went upstairs again, eager to get back to our game. Ritchie eventually joined us, but his expertise was on a level with mine. Max beat us both.
    The boy had been a great favorite of Hannah’s. She’d loved spending time with him; she used to buy him books, take him to movies and attend his Little League games whenever she could. Losing his adored aunt was hard for Max, and he hardly ever mentioned Hannah anymore. That didn’t bother me. I knew Max treasured his memoriesof Hannah the same as I did. I saw her picture in his bedroom when he showed me the latest addition to his baseball card collection. My gaze fell on the photograph, and Max, ever sensitive and kind, had simply walked over and hugged me. I hugged him back. We didn’t need to talk; his gentle embrace said far more than words.
    “Did you hear from Winter?” Ritchie asked as we walked out of the gym.
    I’d wondered when he’d get around to asking me that. I’d just about made a clean escape, but I should’ve known my brother-in-law wouldn’t let it pass.
    “She left a message on Sunday afternoon.”
    “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” Ritchie chastised.
    “Nope.” No point in lying.
    “That’s what I thought.” We walked toward the parking garage, and I hoped that would be the end of the subject. Wishful thinking on my part.
    “You didn’t pick up, did you?” Ritchie said when I didn’t elaborate.
    I was continually surprised by how well Ritchie could predict my behavior. It was almost as if he’d been sitting in the same room with me. “No,” I admitted reluctantly.
    “What did she say?”
    I shrugged. “Nothing much. She asked me to return the call when it was convenient.”
    “How long do you suppose it’ll be before you find it convenient?”
    My delaying tactic wasn’t working as successfully as I’d hoped. “I thought I’d give her a call later this afternoon.”Maybe. I wasn’t convinced Winter and I were a good match, despite what Hannah seemed to believe.
    “Don’t disappoint me,” Ritchie warned.
    I was grateful when I reached my car, eager to bring this awkward conversation to a close.
    “How about poker on Thursday night?” Ritchie asked.
    Sometimes I swore he had radar and knew exactly how hard to push before backing off.
    “Steve’s got a meeting,” he went on, “and can’t make it.”
    I shook my head. I used to play with Ritchie and the other guys every Thursday. In fact, I’d been the one to instigate the poker game. Patrick O’Malley, one of my partners, Steve Ciletti, an internal-medicine specialist, Ritchie and I used to get together for poker every week. At first we took turns hosting and then we