Where One Road Leads

by Cerian Hebert

  He smiled at her when she winked. Did another woman like Suzette exist in this world? Except when he tried to picture that ‘someone,’ a different woman’s face popped into his mind. He determinately shook her away.

  Krista didn’t belong there. She didn’t exactly fit the type he’d been thinking of. Not lighthearted; not carefree. She was more like him, serious and suspicious.

  But like him, before the accident she had been fun-loving, optimistic. No doubt full of dreams, too. What did she want now? Besides to open the youth center. Strange, wondering what things he and this woman had in common.

  “Thanks for dragging him along, Dean. He’s absolutely no fun tonight,” Suzette griped. “Not even Evan and Bri could burn away that black cloud. Sheesh, great company you keep.”

  “I promise, Suzette, if you give me another chance, next week I’ll be bubbly and sweet.” Matt flashed her a smile and dove into his meal with the exuberance of two kids.

  He refused to let his lack of a love life ruin the rest of the night. Maybe it was time to reclaim the person he used to be.

  Krista stared at the papers in front of her, organizing them into files. She’d been at it for so long now, her eyes were burning. An hour longer and surely she’d go blind. There was a certain sense of satisfaction she’d found; the nursery had been repainted and the new carpet installed. The dance studio would take longer, but they were busy with it. The opening loomed, only two weeks away.

  Every time she thought about the ‘big day,’ her stomach clenched and the doubts reared their ugly heads again. There were so many small details to be seen to first, such as making sure the classes were all set with the proper supplies and instructors.

  Then there were the tickets to the opening gala. A gala in Quail Ridge. It should’ve made her laugh, but instead she twisted her lips in a scowl. Cameron had actually been the one to insist on it, to raise more awareness for the center and possible corporate sponsorship. To Cameron a gala opening involved black ties and evening gowns. She wasn’t so sure what they’d see for this event, but she didn’t think tuxes would be involved.

  “Well, I can’t say you look at home behind that desk.”

  Somehow she wasn’t surprised to hear Cameron’s voice above her. “I told you not to come.”

  “I couldn’t resist. I like to see what’s going on with my investments. And I missed your serious face.”

  Although he must’ve been traveling for several hours, Cameron still managed to look like he stepped out of the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly. The dark suit, the perfect hair; what more could a woman want? Well, most women, maybe.

  Gretchen, definitely. Krista often thought if Cameron had been more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, there would’ve been a spark between the two of them.

  “You have a golden tongue,” she commented dryly. “You should’ve let me know you were coming. I’d have made sure I was in a real snit.”

  “That’s my girl. What kind of restaurants does this place have? I’m starved.”

  Now he mentioned it, she was hungry too.

  “Nothing too fancy, but the food is the best in town. Hope you don’t mind walking.”

  They headed down Main. Flags hanging outside the stores flickered in the wind pushing its way insistently along the narrow street. A truck rumbling by drowned out the sound of rippling fabric.

  The smell of exhaust momentarily blocked out another familiar smell. On the other side of the hardware store was the diner she used to love going to in the morning for breakfast. Every eatery she’d ever come across since reminded her of Betty’s Diner.

  Krista led Cameron past the hardware store, with its vacant rockers, to the door of the diner. Faded eight-by-eleven posters were taped in the windows, announcing various town functions, all in the past. She could see a pile of Quail Ridge Town Crier papers stacked on a shelf, and two old gumball machines. She would have bet the gum hadn’t been changed in the fifteen years since she’d last been through the doors.

  A woman came out of the door, grasping the hand of a tow-headed toddler. She smiled briefly and averted her eyes, but held the scratched Plexiglass door open for Krista. She thanked her and proceeded through.

  “A possible client?” Cameron whispered in her ear.

  “You never know,” she replied. She didn’t particularly want to think of anyone in this town as potential dollar signs.

  There was something about a small-town diner that was the same everywhere she went. The same smell of frying bacon and coffee grounds, and clattering of pans from the kitchen behind the long Formica-topped counter. The same type of waitress pouring coffee at a back table. Except she knew this waitress and the patron she served.

  The place was mostly full with the lunch crowd. All that seemed available were the two stools at the end of the counter.

  She slid into the last stool. Automatically her fingers went to trace the initials she’d carved into the surface. KF+JB. A symbol of another lifetime. The bittersweet memory of carving them into the hard surface while Jay distracted the waitress made her smile.

  “Quaint,” Cameron remarked, looking around the place.

  Krista put her hands on her lap and glanced at Cameron. “I warned you. But believe me it’s a hidden jewel. In the rough. Marty Clough is a magician in the kitchen.”

  “If you say so. I reserve my judgment, but I’m game for anything. Did you know my dad owned a place just like this?”

  “Get out.” Krista picked up the laminated lunch menu.

  “No lie. In Iowa. I remember hanging out there every Sunday from the time I was about four till about ten and he got into the newspaper business.”

  “I’m trying to picture you as a little boy in a baseball hat, drinking milk shakes.” She eyed him closely. He grinned back at her. “Nope, just don’t see it. I think you were born at the age of thirty, wearing a business suit and driving a Mercedes.”

  “Ouch. You’ll have to coax Gretchen into dragging out my baby pictures. It won’t take much coaxing. I think she’d love to show them off.”

  “I’ll remember to ask.” Of course, by then the photos would probably turn up ‘missing.’

  Tiny brass bells on the door to the diner jingled. Krista glanced from her menu and froze. Matt walked in, looking particularly handsome in his dark uniform. Nearly everyone in the restaurant greeted him with a small-town friendliness Krista wished she knew. Maybe if she worked really hard, she’d be accepted again.

  Her gaze followed him through the crowded diner. He hadn’t seen her yet. And he hadn’t been around since she dropped him off after their meeting on the ridge.

  Even across the room, she was too aware of him for her own comfort. She shifted on the stool and tried to get her mind back to the menu.

  Cameron turned a probing stare toward her.

  “What?” she asked as she tried to decide between the seafood salad sandwich and the Caesar salad.

  “Want to tell me about the policeman?”

  “Him? There’s nothing to tell. I think I’ll have the seafood. Maybe a house salad.”

  “I saw the way you looked at him, Krista.”

  She tore her gaze away from the menu and glared at Cameron. “He’s a cop. He was on duty when the center was vandalized. Worked on the investigation. Oh, and he’s also the owner of the mill.”

  Cameron nudged her with his elbow. “And? Come on. You know I won’t let this go until I have some answers that are acceptable.” He kept his voice low, and when he spoke in that tone, Krista knew he’d get his answers.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but as soon as she was about to elaborate, their waitress interrupted them.

  Carla Devlin stared at her coldly. She’d been two years behind her in school. If she remembered correctly, Carla waited tables here all those years ago. S
he’d had dreams of going to Hollywood. In fact, she’d been the lead in nearly every play in school.

  “Hi, Carla.” Krista put on her best smile which was met with a furrowed brow.

  “You ready to order?” She spoke in a clipped voice, as if every word directed at Krista pained her.

  Better to ignore the iciness, Krista thought. “Seafood salad in a wrap with a house salad for me and an ice tea.”

  “Bacon burger and fries,” Cameron ordered.

  Without a word, Carla nodded and walked away toward the kitchen.

  “Brr,” Cameron noted.

  “I’m used to it. I’m not exactly Quail Ridge’s favorite daughter. If they spit in my food back there, I won’t be surprised.”

  “Any closer to finding out who wants to make your life miserable here?”

  Krista grimaced. “Besides half the town? No, we haven’t found our vandal yet. But they’re working on it.”

  “No more visitors at your house?”

  “No, all quiet on that front too. Maybe the culprit decided I wasn’t going anywhere and gave up the battle.”

  “Well, as long as the cops are keeping you up-to-date on everything.”

  Krista’s gaze wandered back to Matt, who had found a spot at the table with Burt Frost, a car mechanic, and his wife Teresa. Carla stood at their table now, and instead of dour as she’d been while taking their order, she was vibrant, happy. Matt grinned at her. His smile fixated Krista. Apparently Carla liked it, too. This smiling, glowing version was the girl Krista remembered back in school.

  “Jealous?”

  Cameron’s voice brought her back to reality.

  “No, I’m not jealous,” she retorted. “Matt is Jay’s brother. He’s one of the people in this town who hates me the most.”

  Chapter 6

  Matt had seen Krista as he walked by the diner. He hadn’t even planned on going in. His lunch waited for him in the fridge back at the station, but he couldn’t help himself. As soon as he realized she sat with a man, someone he didn’t recognize, Matt regretted going inside. He couldn’t just turn around and walk back out.

  He pretended not to notice her and instead walked toward the back of the room to join Burt and Teresa. He could feel her eyes on him.

  His curiosity about her companion drove him crazy.

  As soon as he sat, he glanced back over at the pair. They were deep in discussion now, and he wondered if the sensation of her eyes on him was just his imagination.

  Matt figured the man to be her Washington, D.C. business partner. He sure didn’t look like he was from anywhere around here. The pair seemed intimate, sitting at the counter, their knees touching, faces inches apart.

  And what about it? Why should he care about their relationship? He shouldn’t. But the wondering still rankled on his nerves.

  He’d have to keep on wondering because he wasn’t about to introduce himself, not yet. He put it down to his usual stubborn streak.

  So he sat there, chatting with Burt and Teresa, joking with Carla when she came to take his order for a lunch he really didn’t need, all the while keeping an eye on Krista.

  Over the past several days, he’d had to fight the urge to continue checking on her. Things were quiet, which made him very nervous. The quiet before the storm, he thought grimly. Ricky’s story checked out, he and Rachel were really in Boston, and the police hadn’t come up with any clues regarding the identity of the person or persons who’d done their best to ruin Krista’s plans with the mill.

  The lack of progress on the case frustrated the hell out of him, to say the least. If it had been local hoodlums, there’d be some evidence left behind, or at least someone with a mouth too big to hold a secret.

  There’d been nothing. Not one mention of anyone even casually admitting to being there.

  In his opinion, the road still ended with Ricky.

  Matt glanced away from Burt, who was telling him all about his granddaughter’s first birthday party, and locked eyes with Krista. They exchanged a long look, inquisitive and strangely tender. One that brought back the memories of the ridge, and the thoughts that had gone through his mind about her when he’d been surrounded by Dean’s family.

  Her lips parted slightly.

  After a moment, he had to remind himself to breathe. Krista broke the contact first and turned her attention back to her companion, but Matt noted the darker pink tint climb into her cheeks.

  What in God’s name was happening here? Since when did this woman come to mean anything more to him than the instrument of his brother’s death?

  Like someone had opened a window in a dark stuffy room, he finally admitted to himself he no longer blamed her.

  A stool next to Krista’s friend had opened up. Matt drew in a breath, excused himself from Burt and Teresa’s company, and walked over to the counter. When Krista’s eyes widened at his approach, he smiled at her. He figured it must be the first genuine smile he’d given her since her return.

  “May I join you?” He kept his voice friendly and casual, including Krista’s friend in his question.

  It took a long moment before she responded with an affirmative. Apparently his behavior shocked her as well. But she recovered herself and made introductions.

  “Cam, this is Matt Burgess. His family owns the mill. Matt, this is my boss and business partner, Cameron Warshaw. He’s up to check out the progress on the center.”

  Cameron stuck out his hand to shake. If the man knew anything about what Matt had previously thought or felt about Krista, he didn’t show it. There was no suspicion in his dark eyes.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Matt.”

  The two men shook hands. As much as Matt sized Cameron up, he felt the other man doing the same. Typical.

  Matt noted a similarity between this guy and Ricky. Both had a smooth, polished appearance that didn’t fit into small-town New Hampshire. Both wore expensive suits Matt would’ve bet weren’t off the rack, and definitely not anything purchased locally. It was easy to spot the dollar signs.

  The similarities ended right there, though. Ricky looked like a weasel. A handsome weasel with a smooth tongue, but a weasel nonetheless. He wore a perpetual smirk, as if he were laughing at you behind your back.

  In comparison, Matt figured Cameron to be a straight shooter. A bit aggressive, but then he’d have to be to own one of the nation’s largest newspapers. Not too hard, though, by the way he and Krista interacted. In the end Cameron came across as tough, but fair.

  Matt noted another difference. Ricky wouldn’t be caught dead in the diner. Cameron seemed quite comfortable here.

  “Krista has told me there are no leads on the vandals, but the police have been working hard.” Cameron broke into Matt’s thoughts. “I appreciate it. If you need any outside help, please let me know.”

  “Thanks. We were hoping to have someone in custody, but it could be a bit more complicated than a bunch of bored kids.”

  Cameron nodded. “Well, I’m glad there haven’t been any repeats. I’m looking forward to the opening. I’d hate to have to postpone. I hope you’ll be our guest that night. You have the perfect building for the center. Are you sure you don’t want to sell the place?”

  Matt chuckled. “No chance. Sorry. The mill has been in the family for generations,” he explained. “You’ll have to settle for leasing. But it’s really been transformed. It’s a good project and the area will benefit from it.”

  Carla returned with their order, cutting short the conversation. After placing his plate on the table, a definite chill took over. Her eyes barely met Krista’s as she set the plate down with a clatter, as if she wanted to be out of her presence as quickly as possible.

  Matt noted the waitress’s clenched jaw and the hardness in her eyes.

  Krista, for her p
art, smiled warmly at Carla, apparently ignoring the other woman’s hostility. Matt wondered how the exchange would play out, who would be the winner. A few days ago he would’ve put his money on Carla, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Carla, I wondered if you’d be interested in helping me out over at the youth center.”

  Carla set Cameron’s plate down and turned back to Krista, a frown on her face.

  “Doing what? I have a job.”

  “I know. This wouldn’t be full-time. But I remember back in school you were a really good actress. I’m scheduling some drama classes and I could use some people to help. I’ve already recruited Mrs. Simonsen from school. Would you be interested in helping out?”

  Matt studied the exchange closely. He could see Carla’s eyes light up a little even as she bit her lower lip. Her shoulders lost some rigidity, but an edge of doubt still lingered.

  “I might be,” she replied cautiously.

  Krista grinned. “Great. Stop by the mill and we can discuss it more.”

  “Um, okay, I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  Matt had to smother a chuckle. He had the feeling Carla felt like she’d just been hit by a truck and found it wasn’t as horrible as she’d expected it to be.

  When Carla had disappeared back into the kitchen, Matt noted the smug expression on Krista’s face.

  “Winning them over, one person at a time?” he asked.

  “If that’s the way she has to do it,” Cameron replied for her. “I think she’s going about it the right way. Best to get the community involved. It’s their center, not just ours.”