Читать книгу Whirlwind - Nancy Martin - Страница 10

IF SHE’D HAD enough nerve, Liza would have asked him a dozen questions then. But the memory of his ferocious grip and a kiss that had been clearly born of anger, not attraction, along with the shuttered expression on Cliff Forrester’s taut face, told Liza she’d better keep her mouth shut. For once, she listened to the voice of common sense in her head.

He didn’t give her a chance to work up more courage, either. Curtly asking for her car keys, he got behind the wheel and tried the Thunderbird’s engine. It started, but the rattling sound that immediately rose from under the hood prompted him to shut off the ignition at once.

Still behind the wheel, he considered the problem for a long moment, during which he appeared to fight with his own feelings. “I’ll drive you into town,” he said eventually, looking as if he’d rather subject himself to the Spanish Inquisition than prolong his time with Liza. “You can hire a tow truck at the garage.”

Liza quailed at the thought of going into Tyler. Now that she was so close, she suddenly wanted to put a lot of distance between herself and her old hometown. Trying to conceal her anxiety, she said, “Can’t you fix my car?”

Forrester got out of the car. “From the sound of that engine, the damage is beyond my skills. You’ll need a real mechanic. I’ll go get the truck and take you to a garage.”

Liza noticed how tight his jaw was. But there were other signs that he wasn’t quite in control of himself. His hand might have shown a tremor when he closed the car door. And the set of his shoulders gave away something Liza couldn’t quite pinpoint.

The man was peculiar, all right. One kiss had clicked an emotional switch in him. One minute he’d let passion overwhelm him. Then he’d looked positively shaken by what had transpired. Now, the prospect of driving her to town seemed to fill him with loathing.

Insulted, Liza said, “Don’t do me any favors, Forrester. I’ll hitchhike to the nearest garage.”

“In that getup?” he said as the color began to return to his face. “The only drivers on the road this morning will be farmers, and none of them will risk picking up a hot number like you.”

“A hot number?” Liza repeated, amused. “Now, that’s a blast from the past. We’re called women today, Forrester.”

“The gossips around town would call you a hot number,” he retorted, turning to grab his fish and leave.

“I don’t know which is worse,” Liza called after him, “showing myself to the gossips of Tyler or spending the next twenty minutes with you.”

“We don’t have to talk,” Forrester said over his shoulder. “You could take a nap instead. Looks like you could use it.”

Liza considered throwing something at him as he walked away, but nothing was handy.

When he was out of sight, she snatched his jacket off the ground and said, “It was just a kiss, for crying out loud. There’s no need to get all bent out of shape!”

Liza wasn’t quite sure why she’d done it. The man had looked like he needed shaking up, that was all. She hadn’t meant to manipulate him with the kiss. Not exactly. Kicking the T-bird’s tires, Liza frowned, wondering for an instant if he was right. Did she like conflict all the time? Had she kissed Cliff Forrester just to stir up trouble? And why did she feel so damned stirred up herself around him? His rumbling voice gave her goose bumps.

Or maybe it was just the cool morning air. Shivering suddenly, Liza put the jacket back on.

He reappeared a few minutes later, materializing like a ghost out of the shadows.

“Damn!” Liza jumped. “Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on a person like that!”

Forrester didn’t answer, but tossed a thick sweater at her. “Here,” he said. “Put this on before you go into shock.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right. You want me to run you to the hospital so somebody can take a look at that cut on your lip?”

“It’s just a scratch, for heaven’s sake.” She handed him his jacket.

He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but hesitated. A moment later, he shrugged. “Have it your way. The truck’s out back.”

Liza followed him around the lodge, simultaneously pulling on the long sweater and trying to stay on her feet as her narrow heels sank into the soft earth. The sweater reached her midthigh, two inches higher than the hem of her miniskirt, but it was wonderfully warm.

The truck turned out to be the same rusty old pickup Liza remembered from her youth—the vehicle her grandfather had used for hauling yard trimmings away. The idea of getting into it with an unknown quantity like Cliff Forrester made Liza a little nervous, but she decided to brazen it out.

“This old thing is still running?” she asked, yanking open the passenger door.

“I don’t use it much.”

“Oh, you have a car of your own?”

“No, I just don’t drive often.” He got in and slammed his door.

Liza did likewise. “Are you some kind of hermit, Forrester?”

“What’s wrong with being a hermit?”

“Not a thing,” she replied tartly, “if you like living alongside birds and skunks and chipmunks—”

“In the peace and quiet, you mean?”

“Is that a hint for me to shut up?”

“If I wanted you to shut up, I’d have told you,” he said, turning the key in the ignition. The engine spluttered and caught with an unmuffled roar. “Hang on tight,” he advised over the noise of the truck.

There were no seat belts in the old pickup, so Liza did as she was told.

Forrester drove carefully down the narrow road that wound through the trees from the lodge, the truck bouncing roughly in the potholes despite his caution. When he hit the highway at the bottom of the long driveway, he didn’t pick up speed but continued to drive the noisy truck very slowly. His prudent driving might have annoyed Liza under most circumstances, because she liked to get where she was going without dillydallying. But this morning she was in no rush to get to the town where she’d grown up. The thought of setting foot in Tyler made her very nervous. Unconsciously, she started chewing her thumbnail—an old habit she’d never broken completely.

“Look,” she said when they headed west on the highway with the sunlight streaming after them, “maybe there’s a better garage in Bonneville. Why don’t you turn around and go the other way?”

“Don’t worry so much,” said Forrester, not taking his eyes from the road. “Maybe you won’t see anybody you know.”

“I’m not worried about that! It’s my car, that’s all. It’s a delicate machine. It needs expert care.”

“Like the kind of care you were giving it when you ran over that tree? Don’t try to snow me, please. It’s obvious you’re scared to death about going home again.”

“I am not!”

“Why did you come back to Tyler if you didn’t really want to see your family?”

“It was a mistake,” Liza said, turning sulky. She looked out the window at the passing scenery—the lush pastures punctuated by stands of tall, Wisconsin trees. Sunlight was just starting to sparkle on the dew, turning the landscape into a dazzling green carpet.

Half to herself, Liza said, “I—I didn’t mean to end up here. It just happened. I was driving around.”

“What for?”

“I was mad! I was—oh, what do you care?”

“Mad about what?”

Liza sighed and leaned against the window, propping her fist against her chin. Despite her instinct to keep the facts secret, she said, “I quit my job.”

“Quit?” Forrester shot a look across at her.

“All right, I was fired. Satisfied?”

“How come you got fired?”

“It’s a long story, and the ending isn’t very interesting. I’m broke, to tell you the truth. The lease on my apartment expired last week, and the landlord changed the lock. Can you believe it! The old coot won’t give me my clothes until I pay the rent!”

“That explains the outfit, then,” Forrester said wryly. “It was the only thing you could get from the Salvation Army, right?”

“Who asked you for an opinion?”

He didn’t react to her anger, but continued to drive along the pasture fences. “Why don’t you just pay your rent?”

“I told you. I’m broke.”

“A grown woman like you can’t balance a checkbook?”

“It’s not that simple,” Liza said. “I’m an interior designer, see? I really wanted my last job to turn out great, so I...well, I kicked in a few bucks of my own. It messed up my cash flow.”

“What did you do that for?”

“Because I wanted the job to be wonderful! You see, it was this great executive office—overlooking Lake Michigan, marvelous sunlight all day, this beautiful view from a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows—everything! I made the place look terrific. Everybody said so. It needed a sculpture, though, to finish the concept. An artist friend of mine had the perfect piece—this mother and child thing that’s great—emotional, you know? Erotic, too, in a way that was very sophisticated. It was perfect for the office, and my friend needed the money very badly. So I—”

“So you spent your rent money on a sculpture that you’re never going to see again.”

“It’s not like that!”

Liza remembered the whole scenario in detail, but doubted she could make Forrester understand. Her artist friend, Julio Jakkar, had needed the money to finance a trip to a drug rehab clinic. Julio was ready to make it work this time, he said, but he’d refused Liza’s offer to pay for the treatment outright. Buying one of Julio’s pieces had seemed like the perfect solution to his problem. Except Liza hadn’t counted on losing her job a few days later.

She couldn’t make a tough loner like Cliff Forrester understand the complexities of a friendship with a sensitive, vulnerable guy like Julio, though.

On another sigh, she said, “I just had to do it, that’s all.”

“So now you’ve got no apartment and no job.”

“I’m not running home to my mother, if that’s what you’re thinking! I’ve been in scrapes before. I can get myself out of this one.”

“Sure,” said Forrester.

“I’d never run to my mother for help, anyway. She’s got troubles of her own, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“She’s stronger than you think.”

“I’m stronger than everybody thinks!”

Forrester didn’t say a word at that, and Liza pretended to be interested in the passing scenery. Things hadn’t changed much, she noticed sourly. People still treated her like a rambunctious child.

Other things hadn’t changed, either. The same farms still stood along the road to Tyler, with even the same names painted on the mailboxes. German names and Swedish names, mostly. Old families that could trace their family trees back to the first settlers.

The history of Tyler was much like the history of other small towns in Wisconsin. Founded 140 years ago by German immigrants who fled autocratic rulers in their native land, the original town was called Tilgher, after one of the founding families. Years later, the name was anglicized to Tyler by an impatient official from the land office who couldn’t pronounce the German word. Swedish immigrants followed the Germans, each family paying ten dollars to receive 160 acres of farmland.

One such Swedish immigrant had been Gunther Ingalls, who took his family by wagon train to his parcel. On the rugged trail, he stopped to help an Irish immigrant mend a broken wagon wheel. Jackie Kelsey and Gunther Ingalls became friends over that wheel and proceeded to Tyler together, where they split Gunther’s acreage into two small farms. In the century that followed, the Kelsey family and the Ingalls family flourished side by side. And sometimes feuded, too.

Now Liza’s grandfather, Judson Ingalls, was hailed as the town’s most prominent citizen. Known by most of the citizenry as the venerable, though sometimes crotchety owner of Ingalls Farm and Machinery Company, Judson Ingalls commanded respect in Tyler. As his granddaughter, Liza had felt watched all her life—like a bug under a microscope. Every twitch she made was news to the townspeople of Tyler.

As the truck rumbled past the elementary school playground and inside the boundaries of Tyler, Liza found herself automatically watching the streets for her grandfather. Judson’s tall frame, his distinctive long-legged, slope-shouldered walk and shock of white hair—Liza expected to see him on the next street corner. He was as much a part of Tyler as the picturesque Victorian houses on Elm Street or the stately central square lined with the town hall, the old post office, the Fellowship Lutheran Church with its pretty facade and Gates Department Store. Even Marge’s Diner—tucked on a side street just off the town square—didn’t seem as much of a landmark as Judson Ingalls himself.

Liza realized she was holding her breath as Cliff Forrester drove through the intersection of Main and Elm Streets. She couldn’t stop a cautious peek up the tree-lined boulevard where she had grown up. The huge Victorian home where she’d played as a child was obscured by a pair of giant elm trees, and Liza was glad she couldn’t see the house. It might be too painful. And she didn’t want to alert her mother that she’d come home. No use giving up her advantage.

As if guessing what was on her mind, Cliff Forrester said, “Want me to drive by the old place?”

“Heavens, no!” Liza collected herself, not wanting to reveal how stirred up she felt, arriving in Tyler for the first time since her last monumental blowup with her family. She said crisply, “Just take me to the nearest garage, please.”

Forrester leaned out the window to check the clock in the tower on the bank. “It’s only seven o’clock,” he noted. “I’ll bet Carl’s garage is still closed.”

Exasperated, Liza snapped. “Small towns! Haven’t all-night business hours reached the provinces yet?”

“We’re not used to wild girls driving their convertibles around in the wee hours, I guess.”

“What about some breakfast?” Liza proposed, sitting up straight in the seat as the thought struck her. Anything to avoid stopping at her mother’s house! Manufacturing some eagerness, she said, “Does Marge still make those yummy blueberry pancakes? We could go to the diner and have something to eat—coffee, sausage, the works! Do you know how long it’s been since I had real Wisconsin sausage? Let’s go. My treat. I’m starved.”

Obediently, Forrester whipped the wheel over and made a slow U-turn on Main Street, aiming for a lucky parking space right in front of Marge’s Diner. He slipped into the spot and put the truck in park. But he didn’t shut off the engine or make a move to get out.

“You go ahead,” he said, keeping both hands on the wheel.

“What?”

“Go get some breakfast. You can walk over to Carl’s when you’re finished. You know where his garage is?”

“What is this?” Liza demanded on a laugh. “A brush-off?”

“Go eat,” he said stubbornly.

“Look, Forrester, I’m sorry.” Firmly she said, “I’m sorry about that little scene back at the lodge. Maybe I was trying to manipulate you. I can’t help it sometimes. It’s a habit, I guess. I can be pretty brassy, and I shouldn’t have pushed you—even if it was a pretty good kiss. But I’m willing to put the whole business behind me if that’s what you want. What do you say? If you were going to eat those fish, here’s a chance for something better. I’ll buy you a real breakfast and we’ll forget it happened.”

“I thought you were broke,” he said, looking out the window to avoid meeting her eye.

Liza laughed. “Well, I’ve got twenty dollars left, I think. Plenty for a couple of orders of pancakes. Come on.”

He shook his head mulishly. “I have work to do.”

“Like what? More fishing? Look, I’m trying to make it up to you! Come on.”

“No, thanks.”

“For Pete’s sake, Forrester, what’s the big deal?”

He turned to Liza and put his hand out, but didn’t meet her eye. “It’s been an education meeting you, Miss Baron.”

“You could call me Liza, at least,” she said dryly, not accepting his handshake, but impudently folding her arms over her chest instead. “I think we got to know each other well enough for that, don’t you? I mean, that was one hell of a kiss you gave me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, turning back to determinedly stare out the windshield. “I was annoyed and took it out on you. Let’s forget it.”

Liza couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s it? You’re throwing me out of the truck and saying goodbye?”

“It’s nothing personal—”

“Nothing personal! I like that! Fifteen minutes ago you were kissing the stuffing out of me, and I’ve caught you looking at my legs—don’t deny it! So you can’t just say goodbye like this.”

“Miss Baron—”

“Liza!”

“All right, Liza!” he said, temper snapping. “I’m not hungry, get it? And I’ve got things to do, dammit!”

“Like what?”

“Just get the hell out of my truck, will you?”

“It’s not your truck—”

“I’ve got more right to it than you do, so get out!”

Furious, Liza shoved open the passenger door. “You can’t get rid of me so easily, you know! I’ve got to go back to the lodge to get my car. And don’t try hiding in the trees when I come, Forrester! You won’t get away with that!”

“Goodbye!” he barked as she got out of the truck.

“Good riddance!”

Liza slammed the door of the truck and stood breathing hard on the sidewalk while he pulled out and and drove back down Main Street without even waving in the rearview mirror.

“Jerk!” Liza shouted after him.

The door of Marge’s Diner opened behind her, and a man stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was tall and white-haired, and he squinted in the bright sunlight. “Mary Elizabeth?” he demanded.

She spun around. “Granddad!”

Judson Ingalls stood under the canvas awning of the diner, fingering a toothpick and glaring up the street after the departing truck. Without further greeting, he said, “Was that Cliff Forrester?”

“Yes.” Liza strode to his side, absurdly happy to see her grandfather in the same old jeans and flannel shirt he had always worn despite his position of respect in the community. He looked just the same as ever—a gnarled but strong oak of a man with a sun-bronzed face, commanding Ingalls eyes and the firm Swedish jaw of his ancestors. “Oh, Granddad, I can’t believe how wonderful it is to see you!”

Judson said, “You shouldn’t be hanging around with a man like that, Mary Elizabeth.”

She laughed and reached for her grandfather with both hands. “I’m back in town for the first time in three years and already you’re criticizing the men I see? Granddad, how about a hug?”

Avoiding the hug with a firm grip on Liza’s shoulder, Judson met her eye at last and said abruptly, “That Forrester fellow is dangerous, Mary Elizabeth. You shouldn’t be with him.”

Liza faltered. “Dangerous?”

Judson’s brow was thunderous. “The man’s violent—a crazy Vietnam vet who’s still screwed up. Why, I’m surprised he even spoke to you. Usually he avoids people completely.”

“He was in Vietnam?”

“Vietnam or Cambodia or some such place. You stay away from him, my girl. I don’t want you getting hurt by some fanatic! Keep away from Cliff Forrester, you understand?”

Liza blinked in confusion, hardly able to digest the information. But in the next second her grandfather gave Liza a big bear hug and turned hearty.

“What are you doing in town?” he demanded, laughing as he kissed her cheek and tweaked her chin. “You’re looking prettier than ever.”

Liza gave him a shaky smile and allowed herself to be drawn into the diner for some breakfast. All hopes of slipping out of town without meeting anyone from her past evaporated as Liza was greeted by half a dozen of her grandfather’s cronies. She should have known they’d all be having breakfast in the diner. Some things never changed.

Liza also recognized several familiar faces from her youth. Rose Atkins, the elderly lady known for riding her oversize blue tricycle all over town when Liza was still in high school, gave a cheery wave from a corner booth where she sat having breakfast with Tisha Olsen, the longtime owner of her own beauty salon, the Hair Affair.

“Why, it’s Liza!” cried several voices.

“Judson, who’s that darling little girl with you?” demanded one old gentleman. “That’s not Alyssa’s youngest, is it?”

“Sure is,” Judson called back, casting his arm across Liza’s shoulder. “She’s grown up taller than her daddy, don’t you think? Take a seat here, Mary Elizabeth. We’ll get Marge to get you some fresh orange juice.”

Quiet herself, Liza let everyone make a fuss over her. She was glad nobody forced her to talk just yet. She found she couldn’t clear Cliff Forrester out of her mind right away. His peculiar refusal of breakfast made sense now, if her grandfather’s words were to be believed.

But Cliff a wild-eyed maniac? It hardly seemed likely. He appeared completely sane to her—saner than most of the men she met these days, in fact. Just a little erratic. Angry one minute, and kind of shaken up the next. His temper had exploded in the truck, but Liza had provoked that. Why did he have such a reputation around town?

Judson guided Liza to the most central table in the diner and made a show of pulling out her chair. When he’d sat down opposite her and ordered a large breakfast for her without benefit of a menu, he finally looked at her with a growing, indulgent smile and said, “All right, you can tell me what this is all about now. How come you just waltzed into town without warning?”

“Do I need to warn my family when I come to visit?”

He cocked a grandfatherly eye at her and said, “You know what I mean. Are you in trouble?”

“Of course not!”

He laughed expansively at that, not caring if his friends turned to look up from their own conversations. “You haven’t learned to lie yet, have you, my girl? What’s going on? Boyfriend problems?”

Liza sighed. “Nothing that easy.”

“Need money?”

“Granddad,” she said slowly, “would you mind if we didn’t talk about me just yet? I’m...well, coming back to town will take some adjusting.”

“So,” he said, “you’re going to stay this time?”

“No,” Liza replied quickly. “Well, I’m not sure. I’m at loose ends, I guess.”

He nodded, understanding. “Tyler is a good place to come when you’re at loose ends. I don’t suppose the town has changed much since you left. What can I do to help this time?”

“Nothing. Just be yourself, I guess. Boy, it’s great to see you!”

The waitress returned with steaming coffee cups at that moment. Marge’s Diner was famous for its coffee, and the waitress said, “Here you go, folks! This’ll unclog your arteries, Mr. Ingalls.”

“Thanks, Betty.”

It was half a minute before she left, then Judson turned back to Liza and asked casually, “Have you seen your mother yet?”

“No, and I don’t care to talk about that yet, either. Give me a chance to catch my breath, okay?”

He grinned and reached for his cup of coffee. “So far you’ve shot down every topic of conversation I can suggest. What’s left?”

“Well,” said Liza, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on the table, “you could tell me about Cliff Forrester. Were you serious about him?”

Judson put his cup down, splashing coffee on the tabletop and frowning sternly. “He’s bad news, Mary Elizabeth. I wish you hadn’t met him.”

“What’s so bad about him?”

“He’s screwed up. Some business overseas. He must have been in the war, I guess, and when he returned—well, he came back abnormal.”

“But you hired him to take care of the lodge, right?”

“He was one of your mother’s ideas,” Judson grumbled. “She’s always looking for some poor soul to save. Well, she met Forrester when she was working for some charity—saving the boat people or whatever. You know how she is—always trying to help. She said he looked like a walking ghost, so she invited him to Tyler and he came.”

“Why? Doesn’t he have any family?”

“Don’t ask me questions like that,” Judson snapped. “How am I supposed to know? Once he was here, he stayed at the Kelsey boardinghouse for a while, but he gave people the creeps. The boy never slept, I hear, and he hardly said a word to anybody, just walked the streets at all hours. Is that normal? Anyway, Alyssa jabbered at me until I gave him a job, so he moved out to the lodge. He’s been there ever since—five or six years, maybe more.”

“Why did you hire him if he’s unstable?”

“He can’t hurt anybody up at Timberlake. He can be as crazy as he likes up there and nobody will mind.”

Liza drank some hot coffee and said softly, “The lodge looks terrible, Granddad. If he’s supposed to be taking care of the place, he’s doing a miserable job.”

“He’s not supposed to be looking after the lodge,” Judson said gruffly. “Just the land and the lake. He’s the gamekeeper and takes care of the guys from the Fish Commission for...things like that. We’re trying to restock the bass population after a virus killed off most of ’em, so he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on the fish. I didn’t give Forrester permission to do a thing to the building.”

“Why not? Granddad, it’s a mess! The whole place will come crashing down if you neglect it much longer.”

“I don’t care,” Judson said with finality, reaching for his coffee once more.

“Don’t—!” Amazed, Liza cried, “Granddad! How can you say such a thing! Your own father built Timberlake, and you—why, you and my grandmother added all those wonderful—”

“I don’t give a damn about that lodge,” Judson said sharply. “The place holds a lot of bad memories for me. If it burned to the ground tomorrow, I wouldn’t care.”

Liza was shocked into a brief silence. Then she said, “Good grief, why don’t you sell it, then?”

“I’ve had offers,” he admitted, toying with the knife at his place. “One from a fellow your mother used to know way back when. He’s in the hotel business now, I understand.”

“Well, rather than letting the building go to pot—”

“How bad is it?”

“You mean you haven’t seen it?”

“I don’t want to see the place. Not without your grandmother,” Judson declared, glaring at Liza as if daring her to argue further.

“Granddad, she’s been gone forty years or more! You haven’t ever been up to the lodge since then?”

“I have no reason to go,” Judson growled. “And you can just forget—”

“Sell it,” Liza commanded, cutting off his threat. “It was a beautiful place once and somebody should enjoy it.”

“Let Cliff Forrester enjoy it. He deserves something.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t say that! I just don’t want him hanging around my granddaughter, that’s all. He’s done his duty for his country, and I know what that’s like, so he can have the lodge to himself if he wants his life that way. I don’t associate with him more than once or twice a year, and that’s all you ought to do. He deserves a place to live out the rest of his days in peace.”

Liza couldn’t help laughing. “You talk like he’s an old plow horse who needs a pasture. He’s a young man!”

Judson gave her a frosty glare. “What are you thinking, Mary Elizabeth? You haven’t fallen in love with that boy, have you?”

“Don’t be silly! I just met him an hour ago! It’s just—well, he’s not crazy. He seemed perfectly nice to me. A little peculiar, maybe. And he’s not a boy! He’s a grown man, and a very attractive one, if you ask me.”

“He’s ten years older than you, at least!”

“So what?” Liza countered angrily. “When are you going to stop interfering in my life? I have a right to make friends with whoever—”

“Simmer down,” Judson said, finally allowing a weary grin. “I thought a few years in the city might tone down that temper of yours, but I can see it didn’t. Your grandmother could fly off the handle faster than anyone I knew—until you came along!”

“I’m sorry,” Liza said, wishing she hadn’t flown off the handle quite so fast.

“No, you’re not sorry. You like putting me in my place once in a while, don’t you?” He laughed ruefully. “Are you going to stay in Tyler or not?”

“For a day or two maybe,” she said cautiously.

“All right, what do you want from me?”

Liza smiled. “How about loaning me twenty dollars so I can go buy some jeans at the dime store?”

“Done”, said Judson, reaching for his hip pocket. “That’s a damn peculiar outfit you’re wearing, I must say. Some jeans would be an improvement.”

“Shut up, Granddad.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up when I’ve got twenty dollars in my hand. Here, take fifty.” Judson threw the bills on the table between them. “There’s more where that came from. I’ve got charge accounts in every store in town, so you buy what you need.”

“But—”

“No buts about it! It’s the least I can do for my favorite granddaughter. Now, what are you going to do once you buy your jeans?”

“I’m going back up to Timberlake.”

His face flushed at once. “Who gave you permission to go back to the lodge?”

Liza grinned. “You will.”

“Like hell! Tangling with Cliff Forrester is too dangerous—”

“Tangling with me has been known to be hazardous, too, you know!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Judson exploded. “What would you do with yourself up there, anyway? Make that boy’s life more miserable than it is already?”

She shrugged airily. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll see what happens, I guess.”

“Mary Elizabeth...”

“I can take care of myself, Granddad.”

He glared at her. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

“I’ve got some ideas,” Liza admitted, laughing at the pained expression that grew on her grandfather’s face.

“You’re just like your grandmother,” he said with a sigh. “Headstrong and reckless. There’s no talking sense to you. And no use warning you about Forrester, right?”

“No use at all.”

Marge arrived then with a plate loaded with blueberry pancakes, and made a fuss over Liza. In a few minutes she brought a side order of sausage and hash brown potatoes, too. Marge had been a part of Tyler since Liza’s childhood. Her diner was the local meeting place and Marge made it her business to be friendly with everyone. She welcomed Liza back to town and traded jokes with Judson before heading over to another table to refill some coffee cups.

Liza ate her pancakes voraciously, listening to her grandfather tell her all the local gossip. The biggest news was that the school had hired a new football coach, which had set the town on its ear since the coach was a woman. Someone at the next table heard Judson mention the issue, and a friendly argument broke out.

“Hiring a woman football coach is like electing a monkey to the Senate,” one man bellowed. “Sure, he can do the same job as all the other senators, but he sure looks silly doing it!”

Liza listened to the townsfolk argue, feeling suddenly quite invigorated as she was swept up in Tyler’s latest controversy. It felt a lot better than being swept downstream by her own troubles. Life wasn’t so terrible after all.

An hour later at the dime store, she bought some jeans, a couple of T-shirts, a few pairs of panties and some cheap sneakers. The clerk was one of her high school classmates, and they chatted for twenty minutes before Liza left the store.

She added cigarettes from the market and then walked across the street to cajole Carl into driving her up to the lodge to look at her disabled Thunderbird. The mechanic agreed, and while riding in the tow truck, Liza planned what she was going to say to Cliff Forrester when she moved into the lodge.