Читать книгу Trial by Fire - Cara Putman - Страница 11

Saturday

Tricia parked in front of the Green Gateau Café near the Haymarket area and collected her thoughts. The day had lagged, not helped at all when Mom had called to remind her that today was their weekly tea and dessert. Tricia loved her mom and the café, but exhaustion weighed her down. She didn’t have the energy to enjoy the company or the treat.

She stared at the ivy crawling up the brick front of the building and steadied her breathing. The café was one of her favorite spots, with its stained-glass window embedded in the ceiling and the antiques, lending an old-world feel to the place. If only the conversation could match the ambience. Some hitch in her mom’s voice had a knot tightening in Tricia’s stomach. The tension wouldn’t ease no matter how often she breathed slowly or told herself that she was once again over-thinking a nuance she might not have heard.

A car door slammed and Tricia looked up. Mom hustled toward the door. She should stop her, let her know she hadn’t made it in the café, but she didn’t.

Father, help me.

With the Parker trial barreling down on her, each day made it harder to maintain the cheerful mask. The one she’d perfected over the years to hide the pain and roiling emotions. Mom couldn’t see the way she really felt—not today. Mom had pushed her toward Andrew and told Tricia they were a great match. She’d chosen to ignore the aggression and violence that shimmered under the surface. Tricia shouldn’t be surprised, since her mother had never noticed those traits in Frank, either.

Someday she had to repair her relationship with her mother. It would be so much easier if Frank weren’t around. How could Mom remain so oblivious to the tension and love a monster? Tricia’s face pinched, and her scar warmed. Maybe if Frank hadn’t sauntered into her bedroom one too many times, she wouldn’t have run to Andrew Parker.

Tricia squared her shoulders. Somehow she’d hold on to her happy mask. She deflated at the thought that Mom didn’t care enough to notice the facade.

Tricia stepped from her Miata and pulled her jacket closer. A nip teased the air as it swirled around her. She crunched through dry leaves dusting the sidewalk, feeling as fragile as the dried remnants. Ready or not, fall colored the landscape.

Enough stalling.

A sweet aroma filled her senses as she entered the restaurant and passed the pastry case. She followed the hostess to a table tucked in one of the restaurant’s many nooks. Mom looked beautiful, a rust-colored turtleneck highlighting her placid face. She turned her face, tilting it up to accept Tricia’s kiss.

“You look nice today.” Mom’s voice carried a lilt.

“Thanks.” She grabbed the menu before she had to say anything else, grateful for the wail of a saxophone in the background that caught her mom’s attention.

Mom winced. “That note was a bit off.” She shook her head as if to clear the lingering sound from her mind. “What tickles your taste buds today?”

“The green gateau and a cup of espresso.” A sure recipe to charge Tricia up on sugar and caffeine to survive the hour.

The waitress placed a glass of iced tea in front of Mom and took their orders.

After she left, Tricia searched for words to start the conversation. She hadn’t been tongue-tied around Mom until Daddy died. Then Frank came, and the nightmare started.

“I’m so glad you could join me for tea today, Tricia.” Mom smiled, the one that made her whole face light up. “Frank’s fifty-fifth birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I thought we should throw a party for him, and you could help me plan it.”

Tricia stared at her mother. A party for Frank? “What?”

“Plan a party. Streamers. Cake. Singing. I thought we could get some of his buddies together, Caleb can grill and we’ll have the obligatory cake.”

“I can’t do that.” It felt as if the dentist had suctioned her mouth dry. Celebrate the man who had molested her?

“Why not?”

“Mom…” Tricia tried to hold back the words. Now wasn’t the time to bring everything out in the open. She’d held it in for years—why not keep doing that? “I’ve got an intense trial coming up at work. I’m focusing all my time on preparing for it.”

The waitress approached the table with a tray laden with her drink and the desserts. “Here you go, ladies. Need anything else?”

Tricia tried to smile her thanks, then took a sip of the rich espresso. God, show me what to do. I want to move past this pain that has me trapped in the past.

“I don’t understand why you’re always too busy to help when it comes to Frank.” Mom doctored her tea with two packets of sweetener. “Don’t worry about the party. Maybe I should make it just for us old folks anyway.” Mom dabbed at her lips with her linen napkin. “Did your week wrap up well?”

“Yes. Fairly routine things. In and out of court.” Tricia cleared her throat. “Everything back to normal with the shed?”

“Yes.” Mom placed her elbows on the tabletop and leaned toward her. “What went on with the firefighter and you? How do you know each other?”

So Mom wanted the background. Tricia rolled her eyes, then froze when Mom caught her.

“The Lincoln Life case last year. He testified for the fire department and thinks I set him up during the trial.”

Mom puckered her lips. “So long ago. I doubt he remembers.” She waved her hand in the air as if brushing away a pesky thought. “Don’t you think it’s time you got out? You’re always using work or something else as an excuse to hide in your house on the weekends.”

“Mom, you know that’s not true. I spend a lot of time with the singles group from church.”

“When a trial doesn’t keep you working all hours of the day and night.”

“It’s my job.” Tricia resisted the urge to pout.

“And in ten years you’ll wish you’d rearranged your priorities.”

The hostess showed a young family to a table near theirs. The husband and wife held hands, even as he carried a baby carrier with a baby decked out in pink from head to toe. The image could have come from the dream she’d buried in her heart. A husband who adored her and treated her like a treasure, who could see beyond her past and its pain to the promise of a future. A baby who shared the best of both of them, and served as a reminder that the future could always be a fresh start.

Tricia wiped at her eyes, before the tears could escape. She wanted the dream, but her work—and her past—showed how quickly dreams turned to nightmares. Mom tapped her manicured nails against the table, pulling Tricia back to their conversation. “Which one of your friends is going to be a grandmother now?”

Mom waved a hand in the air as if batting the accusation to the side. “Come on.”

“Mother.”

“Oh, all right. Betty Haines. Her daughter is pregnant with Betty’s third granddaughter. And she’s younger than you. Your biological clock is ticking.”

As if that proved a point. “You’re more concerned that you won’t have grandchildren. Go talk to Caleb and Dani.”

Her mom sighed dramatically. “Test the waters. That’s all I ask. There are men out there. Someone like that firefighter, without the history.”

A strangled sound came from the table behind Tricia’s left shoulder. A startled look covered her mother’s face. Tricia turned to look and immediately wished she hadn’t. Noah Brust’s ruggedly handsome face stared at her, jaw squared, eyes flashing or dancing. She couldn’t tell which. A woman sat next to him, lithe form so close she might as well be sitting on him.

“Mrs. Randol. Tricia.” Noah’s voice sounded deliberately casual as he said her name.

Tricia tried to ignore the flash of discomfort. What had he heard? Her mind reviewed the conversation as heat climbed her neck. This on top of their earlier conversation? She longed to disappear.

“Noah.” The woman next to him whined. She didn’t like his focus off her.

Noah forced a smile at Tricia. “A pleasure, ladies.” He swiveled back toward the model seated next to him.

Tricia eased back around and faced her mother.

Tricia shrugged off the exchange. Why should it bother Tricia? Why did it matter what he thought of her?

The woman next to Noah blathered on about nothing. Graham had set him up with the promise that Lisle would wow him. Not so much. Almost from the moment Noah picked her up, he’d known exactly how the evening would go. Not fast enough.

Graham was right on one point—Lisle was a looker. But every word out of her mouth centered on herself. Who found such self-centered conversation appealing? This would be the last time he let Graham suggest the perfect woman for him.

Lisle pulled on his sleeve, a pout marring her perfect lips. “Where did you go?”

Did she really expect him to tell her his thoughts? On a first date? “What brought you to Lincoln?” He picked at the crumbs on his plate.

She started talking again, seemingly mollified, and Noah glanced at his watch. If things went smoothly, he would drop her off at her apartment in an hour. There must be a lesson buried in this endless, waste-of-time evening. A reason why the only thing to catch and hold his attention was the jolt of electricity he’d felt when he realized Tricia Jamison was in the same room. He’d noticed her the moment she strode into the restaurant, looking as if she was about to head into battle. Something made her feel the need to take charge, yet she’d floundered for words during her conversation with her mother. He’d never seen her like that.

No, the Tricia he knew from a year ago would impress anyone. Poised, with every hair perfectly in place. And a mind that kept her words sharply on target.

“You did it again.” Indignation painted a mask on Lisle’s face.

“Did what?”

“Disappeared.” Lisle crossed her arms and leaned away from him. “If I’m uninteresting, you should take me home. Now.”

Noah felt a twinge of remorse. Maybe Lisle wasn’t his type, but still his mama had raised him to show better manners than ignoring his date. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Noah waved the waitress over and settled the check. He threw the tip on the table, and helped Lisle into her jacket.

As they left his gaze settled on Tricia. There was a tension in the way she sat that he’d never noticed, not even during the trial. Then she’d held herself erect out of engagement. Here she’d steeled herself against some type of assault. As if she feared what might come next.

Could she be afraid of him?

The thought made him stumble and his stomach clenched against the meal he’d just eaten.

Their interactions played through his mind. He’d been hard on her the last few times they’d spoken. Maybe harder than he’d intended or the situation warranted. Had she been hurt by his actions and words? Tricia was so strong, always so much in control. If she were as on top of things as she’d seemed, why couldn’t she have protected him at the trial? That was the root of his anger, but now he started to wonder. Had he expected too much from her? Been unrealistic?

Was he part of the reason sadness shaded her eyes?

He helped Lisle into his truck, and rubbed his neck as he walked around to the driver’s side, trying to focus on her rather than Tricia. She didn’t make it easy, though. If she couldn’t find a mute switch, he’d have a full-blown headache before he dropped her off. Another reason not to date. It never worked for him.

Once he got home, Noah tossed his keys on a table. Maybe the way to get Tricia out of his mind was to figure out what had happened at her mom’s. Then he could move on and forget about her again. He’d done it once. It shouldn’t be harder the second time.