Читать книгу Small Town Cinderella - Caron Todd, Caron Todd - Страница 6

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER THE SUN SET, he could hardly stay awake. Driving alone in the dark down a nearly straight, nearly abandoned highway felt almost like crawling into bed. The dotted yellow line disappearing under the car every microsecond didn’t help at all.

He turned off the air conditioner and rolled the windows down. Fresh air felt better, even warm, humid fresh air. It smelled like hay. Hay made him think of farmers. Farmers made him think of farmers’ daughters. That took him right back to where he had started the day.

Not happy.

He should be happy. The information he needed was waiting for him. The dark corners and unanswered questions connected with the job didn’t bother him. Not even the remote chance of success bothered him. Long odds made things interesting; the potential payoff made them worthwhile. His problem was with the personal aspects of what he had agreed to do. If he was going to start getting fastidious about things like that he’d have to look for a new line of work.

The headlights picked out a sign on the side of the highway. Three Creeks.

Getting to his destination always gave him a shot of adrenaline. He felt alert again. The clock on the dash said one-twenty.

He slowed the car and turned onto the gravel road.

THE MORNING BEGAN with an argument over Eleanor’s invitation to tea. Julia didn’t want to go, not even if it was just the five women, not even if her mother particularly wanted her to be there.

“All they do is sit around and talk.” She poured herself a glass of juice, took a piece of toast and jam from the plate in the middle of the table and opened a cookbook.

“It won’t be long, Mom. An hour.”

“You go. I’ll make dinner.”

“You will?” Those words never failed to make Emily’s neck muscles tighten. The tension wasn’t reasonable. From time to time she came home from work to find dinner simmering or roasting, the table set, the house standing. “Something cold would be fine.”

Julia didn’t answer. One minute they were having a conversation and the next, they weren’t. Drawbridge up, moat flooded. Emily was never sure when the barrier was erected, before her mother heard or before she was expected to respond to an unwelcome idea. It couldn’t be involuntary, not all the time.

“Did you know John’s coming for a visit?”

The drawbridge eased open. “Who?”

“John Ramsey.”

Julia turned a whole sheaf of pages and landed in the pasta section. “Never liked him much.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Pasta primavera. I have peas. I have tomatoes.”

Emily waited, wondering if her mother would say more about John. They had dated all through grade eleven and twelve. She’d never expressed an opinion about him then.

“Why didn’t you like him, Mom?”

“Who?”

“John Ramsey.”

Julia went to the cupboard. “It should be fettuccine. We never have fettuccine.”

“Mom?”

“You need those wider noodles to hold the sauce.”

It didn’t matter if her mother hadn’t liked John, or why. He’d moved to the city and Emily had stayed home. If he’d wanted to take over his parents’ farm they’d probably be married now.

Julia was on her knees, buried up to her waist in the cupboard. Emily could hear containers being moved back and forth. Boxes began to appear on the floor.

“When I go to town after lunch I’ll get fettuccine.”

“There’s no need to go to town.”

“I’m going anyway, back to Daniel’s.”

“Get some of that bread, then, the square white bread.” Julia didn’t like the taste or texture, but she liked the way the sides lined up straight for sandwiches.

While her mother put the boxes back in the cupboard, Emily began to tackle the housework that had piled up during the week. As she was finishing the laundry and about to start making lunch, her cousin Martin called.

“Grandma told me you were asking about Daniel. You can stop worrying.”

“He’s back?”

“Looks like it. I went through town late last night, saw the light on over his door.”

The uneasiness that had clung to her all of yesterday still didn’t let go. “You’re sure it wasn’t one of his neighbors?”

“I’m sure. His Christmas lights were on, too.”

The thought of those bright colors sparkling through a hot July night made Emily smile. A couple of winters ago Daniel had decided he’d had his fill of climbing ladders. Now he left the lights attached to the eaves all year.

“Have you heard the other news?” Martin asked.

“News? No.” She assumed he meant local news, family news. “What happened?”

“You’re seeing Mom and Sue later, right? I’ll let them tell you.”

“Martin—”

But he had already hung up.

AN ALMOST NEW silver-gray Accord with Ontario plates sat in Daniel’s driveway. He wouldn’t have taken off without telling anyone just to buy a car, would he?

Emily rang the side door bell. She had raised her hand to ring a second time when the door opened. A stranger stood in front of her.

“Yes?”

He was tall, with a trim, hard build. In spite of the summer heat, he wore suit trousers and a dress shirt that looked formal even with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned. He needed a shave, and he looked as if he’d missed at least three nights’ sleep. It gave him a grainy, world-weary appearance that made her heart beat a little faster.

She stood straighter, her grade one teacher’s daily admonition popping into her mind from wherever it had stayed dormant all these years. Shoulders back, chest out, tummy in. “I was hoping to see Daniel. Is he home?”

“I can give him a message.”

It wasn’t a very informative answer. The man didn’t even smile. Emily felt as welcome as a door-to-door canvasser. “I’d like to talk to him myself. Is he here?”

Dark-gray eyes looked back at her. Did he really need to think it over? Daniel was either here or he wasn’t. Her concern flooded back. “Has something happened to him?”

“He’s been called away.”

“He’s all right, though?”

“He’s fine.”

Emily didn’t want to play tug-of-war with the man over one simple piece of information. If his clothes weren’t enough of a clue, his tone made it clear he was from the city. No one used to small-town life would sound so distant when company called, not even when that company dropped in without notice.

She used the firm expression that usually got children’s attention when they were misbehaving and waited expectantly. Finally he added, “Daniel asked me to look after the place while he’s gone. He should be back in about a week if you want to try again.”

The door began to close.

She couldn’t believe it. He’d been so cool through the whole exchange, no more than polite. Not even polite. Stiff and distant and unhelpful, all with a sort of repressed energy that she found a little unnerving. “If you’re talking to him, would you tell him I came by? Emily Moore—”

The door, half-shut, opened again. “Otherwise known as Robb?”

For a moment his eyes had some life to them. Why did he care if she was a Robb? “According to people around here.” She smiled tentatively. “Not on any legal documents.”

“My uncle mentioned you. I’m Matthew Rutherford.”

A nephew! The name didn’t ring a bell.

He leaned against the doorjamb. Maybe he was feeling more relaxed now that they were introduced. But if he was more relaxed, why was she still standing outside?

Daniel would be disappointed if his nephew didn’t get a proper welcome. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Three Creeks. You’ve come a long way to watch the house. Not many nephews would be so generous!”

“I suppose it depends on the uncle.”

“That’s true. I’d do just about anything for Daniel, and we’re not even related.”

Her comment was met with a blank stare.

Emily sighed. She tried to catch it before it was out, but she was too late. “The last time I talked to him he was expecting to go to my cousin’s wedding this past Friday. He must have changed his mind suddenly. Did he go to Ontario?”

“He didn’t mention a wedding.”

Another non-answer. Daniel wouldn’t mind her knowing where he’d gone. She tried a subject the nephew might find less personal. “Have you met your neighbors yet?”

“You’re the first person I’ve seen.”

“Mrs. Bowen—” she pointed over her shoulder “—next door, is a dear friend of your uncle’s. Once she knows you’re here and alone—oh! Are you alone?”

As soon as she asked the question, something flashed between them. Awareness. She had forgotten about that sense of possibility. A pleasant, alert, tingly sort of feeling. It was a little rusty if it thought it should pop up now. There was no possibility with this unfriendly stranger.

“I’m here alone,” he said.

“Then she’s bound to be knocking at the door with salads and cookies and casseroles. She’ll pack your fridge with enough food for a month.”

The idea didn’t seem to please him. This really was an uphill conversation. She wasn’t going to give up, though. “Why don’t you come for dinner at my place one evening soon?”

Again, the stare. It wasn’t a complicated question. “Thanks, I’d love to,” he could say. Or “Sorry, I won’t have time.”

He didn’t choose either of those easy options. With traces of that disquieting awareness hovering, he stood in the doorway, apparently evaluating the invitation. She could picture him at the table, slowly and silently chewing and swallowing with that same look in his eyes. And she could picture herself getting very annoyed if he did.

“Daniel won’t want you to sit and look at the walls while you’re here. Now and then you’ll need to get out of this boiling hot house and have a proper home-cooked meal.”

The watchfulness became mild interest. His head tilted to one side. “Do you think a home-cooked meal is beyond me?”

Was he being curious or challenging? “Well, no…but there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal eaten in the shade of a big old maple tree.”

“That sounds appealing.”

The maple tree had clinched it. She should have known food wouldn’t be a draw. As far as she could see he didn’t have an ounce of body fat anywhere.

“Good.” She thought of her mother, still recovering from the wedding crowd. How long should she wait? He was only here for a week—it wasn’t meant to be a farewell dinner. “Come tomorrow? Around six?”

His expression was less stern now. Was he thawing? Was it because she was about to leave?

She smiled, and hoped it didn’t look as wooden as it felt. One dinner, and her duty to Daniel would be done.

SO THAT WAS Emily Robb. The problem of how to meet her was solved. He watched until she reached her car—an old Tempo, 1990, maybe—then he shut the door. It didn’t do anything to shut out her indignation.

People reacted differently to a blank slate. Some rushed to please, some got angry, some scared. He’d been up all night and had reached the point of not fully trusting his impressions but it was clear her efforts to please weren’t for his benefit. Daniel’s, he supposed. Or maybe the community’s.

He went up to the kitchen, ran the tap until the water was cold and filled a glass. From the window over the sink he could see the street. Her car was gone.

Hard to know what to think about her. Flustered, emotional, a little on the schoolmarmish side. At least that was what she presented. And why not? That’s what she was. A small-town, high-school-educated teaching assistant. Flustered schoolmarms usually got his back up. Not this one. For some reason, he kind of liked her.

It didn’t have to be a complication.

He yawned and rubbed sandpapery eyes. His files were downloaded, passwords set up, contacts alerted. Time for coffee and a shower. Then he’d go exploring.

BELLA AND Dora took the trouble to leave the shade of the lilac bushes as Emily’s car approached, and three figures on the veranda waved. Aunt Edith and Susannah had already arrived.

As soon as Emily stepped onto the porch her grandmother handed her a cup of tea. “No luck with your mother?”

“Sorry, Grandma. I guess she needs a little more time to herself. She’s fine, though. Reading recipes and ordering books, as usual.”

“Just as if Susannah and Alex and Winston and Lucy weren’t visiting,” Edith said, smiling over her tea.

Eleanor frowned. “Really, Edith.”

“I’m not criticizing her. I’m only saying what she’s doing. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

Susannah said, “Aunt Julia and I had a good visit at the reception.” She looked content in a Muskoka chair, her long dark hair pulled back in its usual French braid, her feet up, and one hand resting on her very noticeable stomach. She and her husband Alex were expecting their first child in September.

“You’ve grown over the past couple of days, Sue.”

“Must be all the somersaults. He’s flinging himself every which way.” She had told Emily they were sure the baby was a boy. Something about heart-rate and needles swinging over pulse points and deep-down instinct. They weren’t acting like scientists at all.

“If only Liz hadn’t left for her honeymoon yet,” Aunt Edith said to Eleanor. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to have the three girls here with us?”

“We did, all week—”

“Barely long enough to tease.” Edith helped herself to a cookie. “You won’t believe what happened yesterday, Emily. In broad daylight. Here, in Three Creeks.”

This must be the news Martin had promised.

It seemed Eleanor had already heard. “The first thing Jack did when he moved into the Ramsey place was install better locks. He advised me to do the same.” She looked at Edith pointedly. “And to use them.”

“Someone broke into your house, Aunt Edith?”

“Well, not exactly broke—”

“The doors weren’t locked,” Susannah explained.

“Someone went in without our permission, though. Corporal Reed says that’s still called break and enter.” Edith was becoming more animated with every word.

“When we got back from the lake yesterday evening—oh, and it was a lovely day, Emily, you should have come—the door was open, the house was full of flies and bees, the cat—who knows perfectly well she’s not allowed in—was comfortable as can be on the sofa and refusing to budge, and everything in your uncle’s desk, all his bills and receipts and bank statements, were pulled out of place.”

“Aunt Edith!”

“Pulled out of place,” she repeated with satisfaction.

“They didn’t take anything,” Susannah added. “Dad thought they must have been looking for credit card receipts or checks they could use.”

“Such nasty people. They were long gone by the time we got home. A pity, with Will and Alex ready to take them on. They’ve gone to town to buy dead bolts.”

Emily looked at her grandmother. “I thought we’d be able to move into the long, lazy part of summer now that the wedding’s over. When do you suppose that will happen?”

Susannah stretched. “Right now. Every moment from now until the first contraction is going to be peaceful.”

“And not a single moment afterward, my girl,” Edith said. “Never again.”

A look of irritation crossed Susannah’s face. Emily decided it was a good time to jump in with her news. She rarely heard anything first, so she tried to draw it out.

“A stranger has come to town.”

Three curious faces turned her way.

“A handsome stranger?” Susannah asked, in a Twenty Questions voice.

“I suppose you could say handsome.”

“We are talking about a handsome man?”

“Definitely a man.” No need to think about that. In spite of his overall coldness, Matthew Rutherford had radiated more masculine energy than Emily had ever experienced from a single source. “Just standing in the doorway doing nothing he made Daniel’s house feel smaller.”

Three sets of eyebrows twitched.

“You know how men can be,” Emily said quickly. “So…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes, indeed,” Edith said.

“But what was this handsome, virile stranger doing in Daniel’s house?” Susannah asked.

Emily explained who he was, concluding that he had agreed to come to dinner the next day. Eleanor and Edith went back and forth listing Rutherfords and birth dates and agreed they didn’t know a Matthew.

Susannah held out her cup for more tea. “Tell me, Em, what was that inflection I heard in your voice just now?”

“I heard it, too,” Aunt Edith said. “Is he anything like his uncle? I think I remember Daniel being a very attractive man when he was younger.”

“He still is,” Eleanor protested.

“You can stop matchmaking, all of you. This nephew is only here for a week. Anyway, he hardly spoke to me. He seems used to being in charge, not answering to anyone. He sort of guards information.” That was exactly what he did. As if it was his own personal treasure. “I couldn’t even find out where Daniel went, or why. Whenever I asked him a direct question he ignored me!”

“I’ll ask him. He can’t ignore a woman who’s about to give birth.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Then I’ll ask him,” Eleanor said. “He can’t ignore an octogenarian. Can he?”

“Wait until you meet him, Grandma. Then you’ll see.”

Edith passed around the cookie plate. “He doesn’t sound like a very nice man. Of course, the Rutherfords were always like that. Standoffish.”

“It’s more that they’re slow to warm to a person,” Eleanor said. “They’re good in a pinch, though.”

That was a perfect description of Daniel. Emily wasn’t sure it applied to the nephew, not with that analytical look in his eye. By the time he’d finished evaluating the pros and cons of getting involved the pinch would be over.

The conversation turned to the problem of feeding a rather large man when temperatures were so high. Now that she had promised a proper home-cooked meal, Emily would have to provide something more impressive than the sandwiches she and her mother usually ate on hot summer evenings. When she left her grandmother’s, she had a jar of pickled mixed vegetables in one hand, a bag of frozen potato scones in the other and a promise of a green bean salad from her aunt.

“And do lock your door whenever you leave the house,” Aunt Edith said. “With people driving so fast these days we’re not as far from the city as we used to be. Who knows how many troublemakers are around?”