Читать книгу That Runaway Summer - Darlene Gardner, Darlene Gardner - Страница 10

JILL LEANED AGAINST the smooth plane of the closed door, marveling at the show of nonchalance she’d been able to pull off, aware she had only seconds to get her heart to stop pounding and blood to quit racing.

“I’m in the living room, dear,” Felicia Feldman called. No surprise there. Jill had seen the fluttering of the curtain covering a front window as she approached the house.

Felicia sat in her favorite armchair in front of the television, the remote control in hand, her gray hair in stark contrast to the floral pattern of the chair. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, one of Felicia’s specialties. Jill never took for granted how lucky she and Chris were to live in this house with this wonderful woman.

“Who was that young man you were kissing, dear?” Felicia had already muted the sound of the program she was watching. On the screen, a lineup of nervous young women waited to see whether the hunk in the tuxedo would hand them a rose.

If Dan Maguire were the rose giver and Jill one of the contestants, would she be angling for a flower? Jill pressed together her still-warm lips, preferring not to think about it.

“Hey, Felicia.” Jill smiled at her. “The Bachelor a rerun tonight?”

“Why, yes.” Felicia’s lips parted and she nodded. “How did you know that?”

“You wouldn’t be looking out the window if it wasn’t.”

Felicia’s laugh had a smoker’s raspy quality even though she’d said she quit years ago. “You’re right about that. I guess my mind was drifting. I wondered when you’d get home, I opened the curtain and there you were.”

“Chris is okay, isn’t he?” Jill was relatively sure of the answer. Felicia had her cell phone number in case of emergency.

“Oh, yes, yes. He went to bed a little while ago. Your brother is no trouble at all. Quiet as a mouse, that boy is.”

“I appreciate you looking out for him more than you can know.”

“Like I told you when you moved in,” Felicia said, “I’m glad to do it.”

The older woman had also confided she’d decided to rent out rooms after a scare in which she’d nearly lost her home to foreclosure. Her great-nephew, who lived in town, kept trying to help with mortgage payments, but she was having none of that.

Felicia had soon been treating Jill and Chris like family. A widow in her seventies with no children of her own, Felicia embraced the grandmotherly role, looking out for Chris while Jill wasn’t home and whipping up fabulous home-cooked meals for all three of them.

“I’ll let you get back to your program, then,” Jill said, and turned. “I’m calling it a night.”

“You can’t turn in yet,” Felicia protested. “You haven’t told me about your evening.”

Jill sucked in a breath through her teeth and did a cheerful about-face. She reentered the room and perched on the arm of the sofa, which was covered in the same flowery fabric as the chair.

“I had a very good time,” Jill said. “Johnny Pollock grilled burgers the size of your head.”

Felicia’s hands flew north and traced the shape of her scalp. “Really?”

Jill laughed. “Not exactly, but close. That man cooks a big burger. Penelope made these white-chocolate brownies for dessert that about melted in my mouth. I can get you the recipe if you like.”

“Please do.” Felicia enjoyed few things in life more than baking, as evidenced by the delicious smells that regularly wafted through the house.

“Penelope was a hoot, as usual. She and Johnny just passed their one-year anniversary. She bought a dozen plastic leis and left them all over the house until Johnny got the hint and booked a trip to Hawaii. They’re going next week.”

“Hawaii!” Felicia parroted. “How nice!”

The television camera panned to a close-up of a euphoric bachelorette clutching a rose. It cut away to a shot of the woman and the bachelor sharing a kiss in a hot tub, a moment that appeared to have helped the woman’s cause.

Jill hadn’t stuck around to discover if Dan had been about to hand her the verbal equivalent of a rose after their amazing kiss. She couldn’t have accepted if he had, not when the tale he’d spun about her was so close to the truth.

She tore her eyes from the TV and banished Dan from her mind.

“Johnny’s remodeling their house. The kitchen’s pretty as a picture with stainless steel appliances, mahogany cabinets, granite countertops and this wonderful wood floor. We ate on the back deck, which could be featured in a home and garden magazine.” Jill stood up again. “And that’s about all there is to tell.”

“But you haven’t said anything about the man you were kissing!” Felicia caught Jill’s hand. “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but it looked like the vet.”

So much for trying to distract the landlady.

“You can see just fine, Felicia.” Jill resigned herself to the inevitable. On some level, she’d known she wouldn’t get out of the room before she addressed the subject that refused to stay banished. “That was Dan Maguire.”

Felicia let go of Jill’s hand and clapped hers. “He’s so handsome. I hear he’s as nice as can be, too. Everybody who takes their pets to him raves about him. Why, he might even be worthy of dating you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Jill bent and kissed Felicia’s soft cheek. “But Dan and I aren’t gonna be dating.”

Felicia’s face filled with disappointment. “Why not?”

“Dating is not high on my list of priorities.”

Jill’s cell phone sounded, the ring tone an upbeat song that spoke of the right to be loved, loved, loved. Penelope’s name popped up on the miniature display screen.

“Excuse me,” Jill told Felicia. “I need to get this.”

“Of course.” Felicia’s expression telegraphed that she had more to say on the subject. If Jill had learned anything after nearly a year of living with her landlady, however, it was that Felicia was a patient woman. “Good night, dear.”

“G’night, Felicia.”

The older woman lifted the remote, turning up the sound on the television. Jill headed for the stairs and her second-floor bedroom, but not before a bachelorette squealed with excitement over her chance to win the hunk’s heart. Jill flipped open the phone. “Hey, Penelope.”

“Well?” Penelope demanded, her voice slightly breathless. “What happened?”

“Dan walked me home.”

Penelope’s sigh came over the phone line loudly and clearly. “I meant what happened on the walk?”

Jill’s fingers flew to her lips, then trailed across the still-flushed skin of her cheeks.

“Oh, that. Dan and I had a nice long talk about how we didn’t want to date each other,” she said.

“No! That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to kiss you. It was supposed to be wonderful. You were supposed to develop a thing for each other.”

Jill fought off Penelope’s romantic scenario.

“I sure am sorry to disappoint you,” she said lightly, trying to affect a teasing tone.

“You should be,” Penelope declared. “I was positive you two were right for each other.”

“Two rights can make a wrong.”

There was a beat of silence at the other end of the line. “That’s not the saying. Yours doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither do me and Dan,” Jill said as she went into her bedroom and closed the door on her personal sanctuary. She’d painted an accent wall bright yellow and bought a matching bedspread, creating a sunny atmosphere. “So you can stop matchmaking.”

“You might as well tell me to quit breathing!” Penelope exclaimed. “Matchmaking is what I do. You know that. But I need a little help to succeed. If Dan isn’t your type, who is?”

Jill plopped down on her bed and slipped off her sandals. “I don’t have a type.”

“Then tell me about the last guy you dated back home in South Carolina.”

Jill had to clamp her teeth together to stop from pointing out her home state was Georgia. How she hated lying to her friends—to anyone, really. Her way of dealing was to reveal as little about herself as possible, which meant saying next to nothing about Ray Williams.

“You don’t want to hear about him,” Jill said. “He couldn’t have been more wrong for me.”

“I most certainly do want the scoop on your ex!” Penelope declared. “But not tonight. Johnny must not know I’m on the phone. I can hear him calling me from upstairs.”

“Then you should go.”

“It sounds like he’s in the bedroom. So, believe me, I’m going,” Penelope said with gusto, then laughed. “We’ll talk more later. Early in the week’s not good and we’re leaving for Hawaii Friday. Can you do lunch either Wednesday or Thursday?”

“I’m working on the river Thursday.” Jill’s bartending schedule allowed her to guide three or four groups of white water rafters per week, most of the trips concentrated later in the week and on weekends. “On Wednesday I’m having lunch with Chad Armstrong.”

“The pharmacist?” Penelope sounded surprised. “He’s your type?”

“He’s a friend.” Jill would have been more accurate in reporting Chad was an acquaintance. They’d served together a few months ago on the planning committee for the spring festival. “He needs to talk to me about something.”

“Sounds like he’s interested in you,” Penelope said.

“That’s not it.” If Chad were romantically inclined toward her, Jill would have picked up on it. “It has to be something else.”

“Any idea what?” Penelope asked.

“None,” Jill said. “Guess I’ll find out Wednesday.”

“We’ll get together when I get back from Hawaii, then,” Penelope said. “I want to hear what your ex did to sour you on other men.”

“I’m not sour on men,” Jill denied. Her view of human nature was too positive to let one traitorous man she hadn’t even loved turn her against the male sex.

“Good,” Penelope said. “Then there’s hope for you yet.”

She rang off, leaving Jill wishing she could be more open with her friend. Penelope could be a touch over-bearing, but like Felicia Feldman, she wanted the very best for Jill.

Trust no one.

Jill mentally repeated the mantra that shouldn’t have been so hard for her to follow. She’d already been burned twice, first by Ray, then by the neighbor in whom she’d foolishly confided in Savannah.

No. She couldn’t tell Penelope how Ray had tried to sabotage her efforts to get Chris out of Atlanta any more than she could disclose her attraction to Dan.

After that kiss tonight, she couldn’t afford to let Penelope finagle another situation where Dan’s magnetism might get the better of her common sense.

THE CROWD AT ANGELO’S restaurant seemed particularly thick on Wednesday afternoon as Dan settled into a chair at a table across from Stanley Kownacki.

Maybe it was often this crowded at Angelo’s for lunch. In the year that Dan had lived in Indigo Springs he’d eaten there only once, and that was for dinner.

“This is a view of you I don’t often see.” Stanley leaned back in his chair. He was a big-boned man in his late sixties with a head of dark brown hair that didn’t match his graying whiskers.

“We don’t eat out together much,” Dan pointed out. They wouldn’t be having lunch now if Stanley hadn’t pushed. Although he seldom acted like it, Stanley was Dan’s boss. Today he wouldn’t accept the excuse that Dan was too busy to break for lunch.

Stanley’s laugh was a pleasant, low rumble. “I meant I don’t usually see you sitting down. You work too hard.”

“So do you,” Dan countered. “What choice do we have? We’re booked solid every day.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Stanley gestured to the menu on the table. “Go ahead and decide what to order first. I recommend the fettuccine Alfredo.” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. “Divine.”

“I’ll have that, too.” Dan ignored the menu. He was far more interested in what Stanley had to say than the food.

A skinny waitress with dishwater-blond hair who appeared to be about seventeen approached their table carrying a tray containing four glasses of water. The glasses knocked against each other with each step she took, some of the water sloshing over the brims.

Her eyes cast frantically about, probably for somewhere to set down her burden. Finding no empty surfaces, she slipped one hand under the tray. Dan half rose and took two of the glasses before she could attempt the balancing act.

“Thank you.” Her tremulous smile revealed a mouthful of braces. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”

“We’re ready now, sweetheart,” Stanley said. “Two fettuccine Alfredos. Extra garlic bread. A root beer for me. How ’bout you, Dan?”

“Coke’s fine.”

The young waitress glanced down at the order pad sticking out of the pocket of her half apron. The two remaining water glasses bobbled. The pad remained where it was.

“Okay,” she said without much conviction, then left.

Dan followed her slow retreat, rooting for her to get where she was going without incident. His gaze slid past the waitress and alighted on a woman with her back to him. Even if a hat had covered her short, curly dark hair, he’d have recognized Jill Jacobi. She had an innate grace and certain way of holding her head that telegraphed she was giving you her full attention.

It seemed she was focused on the man across the table from her. He was about Dan’s age, with a familiar face Dan couldn’t place.

“See someone you know?” Stanley asked, then laughed. “Of course you do. Half the people in this restaurant bring their pets to us.”

“Actually,” Dan said slowly, “I see someone I probably should know.”

“Who’s that?”

“The blond guy in the white dress shirt and blue tie. Glasses. About my age.”

Stanley took a look at the table Dan indicated. “That’s Chad Armstrong. He’s a pharmacist at the drugstore downtown.”

Dan hadn’t filled a prescription since he’d moved to town, but could picture the man quietly going about his work on the raised counter at the back of the store.

“What else can you tell me about him?” Dan asked.

“You know Sierra Whitmore? The doctor? He dated her for years before she started going with that newspaper reporter. Ben Nash, I think his name was. Moved with him to Pittsburgh, she did.”

He’d heard something about the reporter coming to town to solve a decades-old mystery, but he was far more interested in Armstrong. So the pharmacist was single. Were he and Jill on a lunch date? Wasn’t Jill supposed to have too much going on in her life to date anyone?

“Why do you ask?” Stanley asked.

“No reason.”

Stanley gave him a dubious look.

“I know the woman with him,” Dan conceded.

“You mean Jill? The gal who bartends at the Blue Haven?”

“She was at the Pollocks’ the other night when they had me over for a barbecue.” Dan shifted in his seat. “She’s nice.”

“That she is,” Stanley agreed.

“So what is it you wanted to discuss?” Dan changed the subject before the other vet could say more. “How business is too good?”

“Exactly.” Stanley stabbed the air with his finger. “We’re too busy. I had to tell a farmer last week we couldn’t take on his animals. There isn’t enough time in the day.”

Jill was directly in Dan’s line of vision. She angled her head and laughed at something the pharmacist said. Was the guy really that funny? He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at his table.

“Are you thinking of hiring another vet?” Dan asked.

The present practice had long been a two-man operation, with Dan replacing a vet who had retired a year ago. Stanley and Dan had met at a professional conference, a connection that led to the job offer at a time Dan was badly in need of a scenery change.

“Can’t,” Stanley said. “Don’t have the office space for it and don’t want to find a bigger place. I’m thinking of retooling.”

Dam stopped trying to figure out the significance of the way Jill was leaning forward and concentrated on Stanley. “What do you mean retooling?”

“Bob Verducci gave me a call the other day,” Stanley said. Verducci had a practice a few miles outside town that also treated both large and small animals. “Fewer people are bringing their pets to him, so he’s switching to large animals only.”

“Will that have any effect on us?”

“Sure will. You know how the hours build up when you’re driving to ranches and stables. If we go small, we can cut way down on the length of our work days.”

Dan frowned, although Stanley’s reasoning made perfect sense. “I enjoy working with large animals.”

“We won’t drop that part of our practice entirely,” Stanley said. “Bob will handle the bulk of calls for farm animals and horses, but he’ll occasionally need backup.”

“Why don’t we split the work fifty-fifty?”

The young waitress appeared at their table, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail. She set one plate of bruschetta and another of mozzarella sticks on the table. “Your appetizers.”

“They look great,” Dan said, then added gently, “except we didn’t order appetizers.”

Her face blanching, she immediately scooped up the plates. “I’m so sorry. I guess you can tell it’s my first day.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Dan rushed to reassure her. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

“You really think so?” Her voice sounded small.

“I do,” Dan said. “You already have the tableside manner down.”

The waitress was smiling when she left them.

Stanley pointed his index finger at Dan and declared, “That’s why a fifty-fifty split won’t work.”

“Come again?”

“That charm of yours. Why do you think Verducci has been losing business? People want you to take care of their pets. You enjoy that kind of work, too, don’t you?”

“I do,” Dan confirmed.

“Then there’s no problem,” Stanley said. “You can take the occasional call when Verducci needs help. The rest of the time, you won’t have to work so late.”

“I don’t mind working late.” Just last week Dan had been up half the night helping a cow through a difficult birth.

“All you’ve done since you got here is work,” Stanley said. “Look at it this way. It’ll free up your time so you can ask out Jill over there.”

“What makes you think I want to do that?”

Stanley’s laugh rumbled forth. “Besides the way you’re staring at her?”

“She’s pretty,” Dan said lamely.

“So go for it,” Stanley said. “Stop working so hard and have some fun.”

The young waitress made another pass by their table, presenting Dan with a calzone and setting an individual pepperoni pizza in front of Stanley.

“Wrong again, sweetheart,” Stanley said. “We both ordered fettuccine Alfredo.”

Her lower lip quivered and she appeared to fight tears as she picked up the plates. “These must belong to that couple over there. Forgive me. Please.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” Dan said, but she was already moving away.

Nothing but linoleum floor stretched between the waitress and the table where Jill dined with the pharmacist. There was absolutely no reason the girl should stumble, but she did. The calzone, the pizza and the plates went momentarily airborne, then clattered to the floor.

Dan leaped up from his chair, reaching the scene of the calamity in seconds. Jill was already there, her hand supporting the young girl’s elbow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the waitress wailed, “but the food’s ruined!”

“Don’t you worry about that.” Jill patted her arm soothingly. Today she was dressed in another eye-catching outfit: pink, turquoise and white madras shorts that skimmed her knees, a lacy turquoise camisole blouse and dangling earrings. “Everyone makes mistakes when they start out waitressing. If they say they don’t, they’re lying.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jill said.

Dan bent, retrieved the tray, an overturned plate and the calzone. Jill crouched beside him, picking up the other plate and the pizza, which had miraculously landed tomato-sauce side up.

“If it isn’t my matchmaker’s choice.” Jill’s smile was impish, the light reaching eyes he now realized were green.

“But not yours,” he said.

“Ditto.” She kept smiling at him, appearing genuinely glad to run into him. If he’d learned one thing about her in their short acquaintance, though, it was that she was unfailingly friendly. “Where did you come from?”

He gestured behind them. “I’m having lunch with my boss. I would have waved, but your back was to me.”

“Likely story.” She winked at him. “Oops. Shouldn’t have done that. Don’t worry. I stand by what I said the other night. You’re safe from my attentions.”

Yet she obviously welcomed the pharmacist’s interest.

“Thanks so much for helping me pick this up,” the waitress said to them both, taking the tray from Dan. “You two are the best.”

“Hang in there.” Jill got to her feet and Dan followed suit. “Once you get over the opening-day jitters, you’ll make a fabulous waitress.”

The girl beamed at her. Dan found himself smiling at Jill, too, and curiously reluctant to part from her once the waitress headed back to the kitchen.

“One more thing before I go.” Jill’s eyes opened so wide that white was visible all around the green irises. “Beware the matchmaker. We’ve got some breathing room because she’s leaving for Hawaii soon, but she’s not convinced we aren’t perfect for each other. She might try another ambush.”

She grinned and turned back to her table before Dan could say anything. That was probably a good thing, because he should keep the response that came to mind to himself until he figured out what to do about it.

Because if Penelope made another stab at setting him up with Jill, he’d be all for it.

“SO WHAT DID YOU WANT to talk to me about?” Jill kept her attention fixed on Chad, fighting the temptation to turn around and sneak another look at Dan.

So far, Jill had done most of the talking. She didn’t mind. Chad was a quiet sort. If she didn’t press him on the reason he’d asked her to lunch, however, the bill might arrive before he got around to discussing the subject.

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. Was he stalling for time? Could Penelope have been right? Was Chad screwing up his courage to tell her he was interested, that he viewed their lunch as a first date?

She breathed in sharply as she belatedly realized Dan could have sized up the lunch that way. It explained his comment about being her matchmaker’s choice but not hers.

She’d informed Dan after the barbecue that it wasn’t the right time for her to get involved with anyone. Yet less than a week later she was on what could appear to be a date.

She didn’t owe Dan an explanation, yet suddenly she had an overwhelming desire to rush to his table and clarify that she and Chad were just friends.

“Mountain bikes,” Chad said.

His answer didn’t compute. “Come again?”

“I want to talk about mountain bikes.”

“Do you ride?” She hit the trails three of four times a week, but had never bumped into him.

“My friend does.” His voice softened, hinting at his feelings for the friend. “We went to pharmacy school together. I ran into her at a reunion last weekend and she told me about the ride she’s helping to organize across the Poconos.”

“I heard about that.” Jill no longer belonged to any bike organizations, as she had when she’d managed the shop in Atlanta, but she still checked Web sites for news. “Aren’t they calling it the Poconos Challenge?”

“Yes.” Chad nodded. “Towns are invited to turn in proposals to host stops along the way. You could make that happen for Indigo Springs.”

“Me?” Jill gestured to herself. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You ride and you enjoyed working on the spring festival. You’re a logical choice to help put together a bid.”

She couldn’t dispute either of those facts. Neither could she explain why having her old life intersect with her new one would be risky. She hadn’t managed to elude the private eye on her tail up to this point by luck alone. She was smart enough not to fall into her old habits.

“It seems to me this is something the mayor’s office should act on,” Jill remarked.

“Definitely,” Chad said. “I just thought you’d put yourself in an advantageous position if you proposed the idea.”

“An advantageous position for what?”

“Borough council.”

She started. “What makes you think I want to run for the council?”

“When we worked on the festival, you were the one who went to the mayor with ideas about how to improve downtown parking and attract more tourists,” he said. “You’d be a natural.”

She couldn’t refute him. The idea of community politics held surprising appeal. She’d discovered during her civic volunteer work that she had a knack for seeing the big picture, a quality that would serve a council member well.

“Well?” Chad asked. The word was a temptation.

If she spearheaded an effort to bring the bike race to Indigo Springs in conjunction with the community work she’d already done, she’d be in a great position to run for council.

She let herself envision it for a moment. Her name on the ballot. The opportunity to do some good for the fine people of Indigo Springs. The questions the local newspaper would ask in order to print her bio in a special election section.

Who was she kidding? She could no more run for community politics than compete in a Miss Universe pageant.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” She was surprised it was hard to smile. “But I’m not going to run for office. You can let the mayor’s office know about the bike race yourself.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want,” he said, then grew quiet at the arrival of the rookie waitress and the second coming of their order.

A few moments later Chad reached for a piece of his individually sized pizza, biting into a slice as though nothing notable had happened.

It had, though.

Jill had gotten another reminder that she’d surrendered her chance to lead a normal life by going on the run with her brother.

She felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and turned, her gaze locking with Dan’s.

A thrill traveled through her, which was starting to be par for the course. She’d experienced it when they talked over the broken plates and had felt it more strongly during their kiss.

The sensation provided enough incentive for her to break the connection. The reasons she couldn’t get involved with Dan hadn’t changed, providing ample cause for her to keep her mouth shut about why she was lunching with Chad.

Dan would eventually discover she and the pharmacist weren’t an item. She’d be smart to use the time until he did to devise a way to stop the thrill.