“It’s really me.” She stopped to pose. “How do I look?”
“Is there a costume party going on today, and I missed the memo?”
“I wore this to work to get your opinion.” She hobbled to her chair, grimacing with each step, then plopped into it with a groan.
“Bernie, how long has it been since you put on a pair of high heels?”
She thought for several moments, lips pursed. “I think it was Missy and John’s wedding.”
“That was four years ago.”
“I don’t wear ’em often.” She pulled off one shoe and wiggled her toes, then freed her other foot. A huge rock glittered on each hand, complemented by equally gaudy bracelets. “I keep ’em in case I have a funeral or wedding to go to.”
“Well, I haven’t heard about any engagements recently, and I don’t think anyone’s died. So what’s the occasion?”
Bernie lowered her voice and spoke out the side of her mouth. “I’m meeting him.”
“Who?”
“You know, him. My secret admirer.”
Jami nodded. If she hadn’t composed the e-mail herself, she would have thought Bernie was headed off to some swanky dinner theater. She couldn’t be planning to wear that getup to the park. “Where are you meeting him?”
“At the park.”
“Don’t you think you might be a tad bit overdressed?”
“But I want to look my best.”
“You want to look good, but he’s also expecting you to be yourself.” Her gaze swept Bernie from the top of her bee’s-nest hairdo to the bottom of her protesting feet, which she was alternating massaging. “That is definitely not you. And it shows. You look about as comfortable as a hobo in a tuxedo.”
“So what do I wear?”
“What would you normally wear to the park?”
“I’d wear shorts and a comfortable tee. But I can’t wear that to meet him. One look at these chicken legs, and he’d be headed for the next county.”
“Then wear some pants and a casual blouse. And put on some comfortable shoes, for Pete’s sake. My feet hurt just watching you.”
Bernie dropped her foot to the floor. “So you think this is too much?”
“Definitely. He already likes the Bernie he sees. If you show up like that, he’ll be disappointed.”
“In that case, I can’t wait to get out of this dress and these shoes. What about the jewelry?”
Jami shook her head. “It’s gotta go.”
“The hair, too?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I guess I better leave a few minutes early this afternoon to undo all the damage I did this morning.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” If there was one thing Bernie had, it was confidence. Staying dressed like that all day instead of rushing home to change took a lot of guts.
Bernie huffed out a sigh. “Now that that’s settled, I have a great idea for a story, and you’d be the perfect one to write it. I wanted to tell you yesterday here at the Scout but never caught up with you. A couple days ago, I learned there’s a businessman who has plans to move to North Carolina and open a bed and breakfast.”
“Here in Murphy?”
“Here in Murphy or somewhere nearby. He wants to cater to people who are looking for a quiet retreat, a place to escape the stress of the city and enjoy nature. He also wants to open a restaurant. The restaurant would be for everyone, not just the guests of the bed and breakfast.”
Jami nodded, an unexpected pang of nostalgia hitting her. She had a lot of good memories of the years she worked at the bed and breakfast with her mom and Aunt Lily. And though it wasn’t doable now, the thought that she would one day open one herself, in memory of her mother, always rested in the back of her mind. This businessman was going to be living her dream.
“Okay, I’ll interview him and write an article about his plans. Any particular slant you think I should take?”
“Nope, I’ll leave that up to you.”
She slid a notepad into the center of her desk and picked up a pen. “Okay. Where is he from?”
Bernie’s eyes fluttered away. “He’s from somewhere up north, like Chicago or Philadelphia or somewhere. You know, one of those crowded big cities that stays frozen half the year.”
“You got a name and number for me?”
“I might have a card.” Bernie fished through her oversized bag. “I think his name’s Edward. Edward something. Or maybe something Edward.” She removed a wad of receipts with an ink pen wedged between them and placed it in her lap. After fishing through them one by one, she added a checkbook, wallet and pack of tissues to the stack. “I don’t seem to have it right now. But don’t worry, I already set everything up. You’re meeting him tonight at seven.”
“So he’s here now?”
“Yup. He’s staying somewhere in the area.”
She jotted interview at seven on the pad. “And where are we meeting?”
“The park.”
“The park?” She laid down her pen. “Isn’t that an odd place to do an interview?”
“Well, it’s either the park or his motel room. It’s not like he has an office here or anything.”
“No, but wouldn’t one of the restaurants have made more sense?”
Bernie shrugged and stuffed the items back into the zippered pockets of her purse. Everything went back inside in even less order than it had come out. “He liked the idea of meeting in the park. Maybe it fits better with his whole retreat-to-nature idea.”
“Okay.” That made sense. “So what does this mystery businessman look like?”
“Well, he’s young.”
“How young is young?”
“He’s younger than me.”
Jami frowned. “That doesn’t help.”
“Well, he’s not over forty. And,” she added, “he’s hot.”
“Bernie, you think all men are hot.”
“Not all men.”
“Okay, most. So what else can you give me?”
“He has dark hair, like black or brown. Or maybe it’s light brown.” She pursed her lips, brows drawn together in concentration. “It’s not blond. I do know that much.”
Jami shook her head. “I hope you’re never an eyewitness in a big criminal case, or the prosecution is doomed.”
Bernie threw back her head and laughed, the throaty guffaw that was so Bernie even though the hair and clothes weren’t.
Jami picked up her pen and wrote park beneath the note she’d scrawled earlier. “If you find that card, let me know. I know I’m looking for a hot man under forty who doesn’t have blond hair, but even with all those details, it wouldn’t hurt to have a name.”
Bernie’s hearty laughter once again filled the huge, open space, and Jami shook her head.
There was only one Bernie.
Grant eased to a stop in one of several parking areas along the Murphy River Walk. This one was on the stretch of trail running along the southern bank of the Valley River. He’d chosen it for a reason. Jami wouldn’t be likely to park here. Since her interview was to take place at Koneheta Park, she would choose one of the parking lots near the ball fields.
He swung open the car door and stepped into a world shining with a postrain brilliance. The sun sat low on the horizon, peeking through the clouds that still blanketed the western sky. On the path ahead of him, a flock of Canada geese waddled toward the water’s edge.
He set out walking in the direction of the small bridge that would take him across the river. He had plenty of time. The interview wouldn’t be for another thirty minutes. The wait would do him good, give him a chance to prepare. One side of his mouth cocked up in a wry smile. No amount of preparation was going to help him face the evening with confidence. His whole future happiness hinged on the next two hours.
He lifted his eyes and sent up another one of those selfish prayers. He’d prayed quite a few of those over the past couple of days. Lord, I need your help. Give me the right words, and please make Jami recept
ive to them.
Bernie had called that morning, all apologetic she was going to have to change the location of the interview. But meeting at the park was a brilliant idea. It would give him the opportunity to stroll with Jami while she waited for her interview subject to arrive. If she would let him. It wouldn’t have been so easy at Doyle’s. The minute she showed up and was led to his table, she would have known Bernie had set her up and would have left without even giving him a chance.
Of course, he had no guarantee she wouldn’t do the same thing at the park. She would still suspect Bernie had sent him there. And if he was lucky, he would have all of two minutes to break down the protective wall that encased her heart.
As he started across the bridge, he pressed his hand over the pewter piece resting against his chest. He’d put it back on earlier today, and he wasn’t taking it off. It would stay close to his heart, a continual reminder not to give up hope. Somehow he would win her back.
He had a plan, or more like a shell of one, a vague idea. He would rather have had a full script, the magic words that would guarantee a path to her heart. He wasn’t good at ad lib. Every concert he’d ever done, he’d relied on the sheet music. Tonight he was going to have to wing it, to face the most important performance of his life blind and unscripted.
He stepped off the bridge, and to his left, a chain-link fence sectioned off colorful playground equipment. Kids sailed down tubular slides amid squeals of pleasure while parents sat nearby on wooden benches, watching their charges work off all that excess energy. The activity would be a good distraction.
But instead of approaching, he turned to walk in the other direction, following the paved trail that led toward the park. A couple strolled some distance ahead. Trees cast their lengthening shadows across the landscape, and every so often, a bench or picnic table offered repose.
Eventually, the path forked, the right branch continuing its route along the river and the left passing through a large, grassy area dotted with picnic tables, benches and plantings. A monument stood at the fork, erected by the Cherokee County Chapter of the Compassionate Friends, according to the words engraved on its base. A little farther down, a waterwheel and wood flume were displayed behind a split-rail fence, and beyond that, a parking area. That was where Jami would be.
He strolled across the grass to a bench where he could watch for her to arrive. Within minutes, the red Sunbird pulled into the parking lot. His pulse quickened. Jami was early, too. She stepped from the car, and a gust of wind blew reddish strands of hair across her face. Emotion surged up within. Somehow he had to convince her to give him another chance.
He pushed himself to his feet and watched her head up the path toward the river, purse hung over one shoulder and water bottle in her other hand. She wore a tailored suit with moderate heels, her usual work attire. But beneath the confident, professional exterior was a warm, caring woman. How could he get her to once again let down her guard and trust him with her heart?
He squared his shoulders and drew in a steadying breath. He was a lawyer. Being persuasive was a big part of his job. But tonight, he had all the confidence of a nerdy, pimpled teen getting ready to ask the beauty queen to prom. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and when his left hand met the small box tucked away there, his heart began to race. Maybe his purchase was a little premature. And maybe he was a little crazy. But he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
He walked in her direction and sent up another one of those selfish prayers.
Lord, help me do this right.
NINETEEN
Jami strolled down the path, scouting out a place where she could keep an eye on the parking area. She had no idea what kind of vehicle her hot, not-blond, younger-than-forty businessman drove, but so far, she recognized every car in the lot, including Bernie’s and Hank’s. Even Samantha was there. At least her car was. She hadn’t seen either Sam or Holly herself.
Meeting in the park hadn’t been a bad idea. If her big-city businessman wanted the tranquility of the outdoors, this was the ideal time of year to get it. The weather was perfect, the temperature a balmy seventy degrees with the faintest hint of a breeze. The grass was still wet from the afternoon rain, a soft floor of green velvet.
Movement in her peripheral vision drew her attention to her left. A familiar figure moved toward her across the grass, and her heart fell. Grant. He was the last person she wanted to see. So why was her pulse racing and this crazy warmth spreading through her chest?
When he reached her, he turned and fell into step beside her. She didn’t slow her pace. Someone told him she was going to be at the park, and she could easily guess who. A certain meddling newspaper reporter needed a muzzle. “Bernie told you I was going to be here tonight, didn’t she?”
He flashed her a grin, one of those warm smiles that made her stomach do somersaults. “I admit it. She did. And I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see you.”
“I’m meeting someone for an interview in about five minutes, so I can’t talk.” She pulled her gaze to a wooden swing overlooking the river, which was a lot safer than letting that dazzling smile wreak havoc with her defenses.
“Well, if it’s okay, I’d like to walk with you until it’s time for your interview.”
She shrugged. It was a free country, and the park was public property. When their path met the river walk, she made a left. So much for finding a comfortable place to wait. With Grant beside her, she would never be relaxed enough to sit still.
“So who are you interviewing?”
“Some businessman from Chicago. I don’t have a name. Not a full one, anyway.” She glanced over at him, even though she shouldn’t.
The corners of his mouth quivered upward, as if he were trying hard to hide amusement. “You’re doing an interview in five minutes and don’t have the name of the interviewee?”
“That would be Bernie. She lost the guy’s card.”
He nodded, obviously still amused. “So this no-name Chicago businessman, what’s special about him?”
“He has plans to open up a bed and breakfast with a restaurant and is considering Murphy.”
“That sounds interesting.”
Up ahead, a picnic table sat off the left side of the path. Bernie stood next to it, Hank a short distance away. Fortunately, Bernie had changed clothes before coming. The dress was likely tucked into the back of her closet again, the shoes in a box slipped far beneath her bed. Her hair had even recovered from its trauma nicely.
As they got closer, Bernie looked past Hank and waved enthusiastically. “Jami, Grant, it’s good to see you. Hank and I are keeping each other company while we wait for our dates to show up.” Her words overflowed with excitement. “Would you believe Hank has been getting the same kind of notes and e-mails I have? It even started around the same time.”
Jami lifted her brows in feigned surprise. Maybe thinking they’d assume the notes came from each other was expecting too much. “What a coincidence.”
“I know. What are the odds?” She shook her head. “So what’s happening?”
Bernie’s gaze went from her face to Grant’s. She had questions much more pointed than What’s happening?
“My interview subject hasn’t shown up yet.” She studied Bernie. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
“No, I sure haven’t.” She looked at Grant, then focused on some point beyond them. “Maybe he got held up.”
Jami nodded. Bernie was up to something, and it wasn’t simply letting Grant know she had an interview at the park.
Maybe the assignment was a setup. Maybe there was no Chicago businessman, no bed and breakfast or new restaurant, no interview at all. Maybe Bernie had orchestrated the whole evening to throw her and Grant together. She wouldn’t put it past her.
Jami put her hands on her hips and nailed Bernie with a glare. “I don’t have an interview tonight, do I?”
Bernie’s jaw went slack. “Are you accusing me of making this up? I wo
uldn’t do something like that. You really do have an interview. I guess you’ll just have to wait until he’s ready to talk.” She plopped onto the bench behind her. When Hank started to sit next to her, she planted one hand on the small of his back and gave him enough of a shove to reverse his momentum. “You can’t sit here.”
“Why not?”
Bernie sighed and rolled her eyes as if he’d asked the dumbest question ever. “If we’re sitting on the same bench when he gets here, he’ll think I’m with you and won’t even come over and talk to me.”
“Good thinking.” Hank circled the table and sat on the opposite side, his back to her. “I don’t want her to think I’m with you, neither.” He cast the words over his shoulder.
Moments later, Sam peeked out from behind a bush some ten feet away. She winked and waved, then put a finger to her lips, commanding silence. Jami hadn’t seen Holly yet, but she was probably somewhere nearby.
“If there’s really an interview, I’d better head back.” She could still see the parking lot, but just barely.
Grant waited to speak until they were out of earshot of Hank and Bernie. “I take it you ladies are responsible for them being here tonight.”
“Yep. We decided to throw them together and see what happens.” She frowned. “So far it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“The night is still young.” He scanned the park while they walked. “What does your interview subject look like?”
“He’s not blond.”
“That’s it?”
“He’s also under forty.”
“Well, that narrows it down a little bit.”
She grinned. “And he’s hot.”
Unexpected laughter burst from Grant. “Bernie said that?”
“She sure did. Of course, coming from Bernie, it’s not unusual.”
Trust My Heart Page 24