The waiter nodded, his eyes glancing back and forth between the police chief and the schoolteacher. “Well, I hate to bother you, Chief, but the manager asked me to tell you that we’re closing down for the night.”
“No problem.” Rob scooted out from the booth. “We’ve got to get back to Buffalo anyhow.”
Claire pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse and gloves. As she slid out of the booth, she felt as though she were exiting a time machine—a place where time had stopped, the past melded with the present and nothing made sense. Rob West couldn’t have just kissed her. That hadn’t happened. Impossible.
She didn’t want a man in her life again. Not that way. Not for a long, long time. Stephen had practically abandoned her at the altar, and she wasn’t about to give away her heart so soon. Certainly not to Rob West. They knew each other well, but they were just buddies. Pals.
As Rob paid the bill, Claire rooted around in her purse on the pretense of needing her lip salve. There was no way she could look at the man ever again. The whole thing was just embarrassing and silly. An accident.
He started for the door, and she hurried after him. Don’t look at him, she told herself. Don’t look. Don’t say anything. Just get in the car.
She climbed into the squad car, and Rob shut the door behind her. They would have to talk, she realized. Two people who had just bared their souls and then kissed each other couldn’t sit for twenty minutes in silence.
It felt like high school, but it wasn’t. They were adults. She had been engaged. He’d been married.
But the kiss hadn’t been any big deal, really. A crazy, impulsive, meaningless thing, that’s all.
“So, methamphetamines,” she blurted out as he started the engine. “Wow, that’s a big deal for Buffalo, isn’t it? How did you learn someone was running a ring in town?”
He drove without speaking for a moment. She could see his jaw working.
“Traffic stop,” he said finally. “Female ran a stop sign on the square. One of my patrolmen thought she was acting suspicious, so he searched her car. She’d hidden the meth in a pill bottle in her glove compartment. I questioned her at the station, and she told me she’d bought the drug locally. I got a few names out of her. Supposedly her suppliers.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Nope. Then we started running across the stuff on a regular basis—traffic stops, domestics. Not just kids, either. Adults. Even some older folks. A real surprise. We’re seeing more vandalism and petty stealing, too. The sheriff and the highway patrol are seeing the same thing. Everyone’s coming up with identical information. Someone close to Buffalo or even in town has a methamphetamine lab. We just haven’t found it.”
Claire considered his words in silence for a moment, grateful for the passing time and the neutral topic. “I thought people usually built meth labs way out in the country.”
“That’s typical. Farmers keep one of the ingredients in tanks on their property—anhydrous ammonia. It’s a volatile liquid fertilizer that adds nitrogen to the soil, and meth makers steal the stuff to put in their mix of cold pills and household chemicals. Also, meth has an odor, so they like to cook it in remote areas where no one can smell it. Besides that, it’s explosive. They’ll often rig up a lab in an old barn or an abandoned trailer. If it catches fire—boom. But they’ll be long gone before the fire department gets there.”
“Hard to believe people would take such a risk.”
“Not really. Meth is profitable. It’s also highly addictive. A lot of the makers are using the drug, too, so there’s strong motivation. People will cook meth in the same room where their babies are sleeping and their kids are running around.”
He fell quiet as they rolled into Buffalo and started toward Claire’s house. “Two or three times we’ve found evidence of a lab.” He spoke again, as if trying as hard as she had to fill the silence. “Plastic containers, hoses, burners. Personally, I think the dealers are moving around. Staying one or two jumps ahead of me.”
“Like a chess game,” she said. “Or football.”
The corner of his mouth tilted as he braked in front of her yard. “You know, you’re pretty smart, Clarence.”
She managed a carefree smile as she reached for the door handle. “Well, I hope you catch them soon. And thanks for your help with the cats, Rob. I really appreciate it. I’ll be over at the mansion tomorrow cleaning up, so I should have it ready by your deadline. But you’re not really asking me to paint the place, are you? I mean, that’s too much.”
“I thought you were going to be grading papers tomorrow afternoon.”
One foot on the ground, she pursed her lips for a moment. “Well, that, too. It’s nearly the end of the semester, so I have to give exams and check term papers. That’s why I don’t have time to paint Aunt Flossie’s house.”
“Claire, listen. About what happened at Dandy’s—”
“I enjoyed learning about football, Rob. It was fun. I’ll try to watch a game one of these days. I promise.” She started out of the car. “So, good night.”
“Claire.” His arm shot out, and he caught her hand. “About Dandy’s—”
“It was okay. It was fine. Really.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I—”
“You didn’t. It’s just that I have a lot going on. Like Aunt Flossie—I have to take care of her. And my students. The parade. Christmas. Besides, I went through all that with my fiancé, you know, so I’m not going to…to be…”
“I understand.”
“Well, I’m not sure you do. Because it was awful, and I’m still angry. I’m not as far along with forgiveness and letting go as you are. I was very hurt. I don’t want to be in that kind of place again. Ever. I just prefer to be alone.”
“Yeah, like I would ever hurt you.” He spoke under his breath. “Okay, this is Chief West signing off. And you do have to paint the outside of the mansion. At least the front.”
“Rob!”
“It’s in my report. Gotta follow the rules.” He winked at her, though there was no sign of a twinkle in his eye. “See ya, Clarence.”
Mayor Bloom waved at Rob from across the street. As a large float made of brightly colored tissue paper and chicken wire pulled to a stop between them, a gaggle of squealing, bouncy, ponytailed cheerleaders swarmed it. Crossing toward the mayor, Rob checked his uniform in the bank window. Neatly pressed black shirt and pants, patch on each shoulder, badge, name tag and collar brass with the shiny initials BPD—Buffalo Police Department—all in place. He’d made sure his car was washed and waxed to a high shine earlier that morning. Nothing but the best for the Christmas parade.
“How about this weather?” the mayor asked as the two men shook hands. “You couldn’t ask for a better day. Sun’s shining, sky’s blue, temperature’s hovering in the midforties.”
“Just about perfect,” Rob concurred.
“Mrs. Hopper’s got the floats lined up in the right order. Don’t know what we’d do without Dorothy. I spoke to Claire Ross a minute ago, too. She said things are all set with the parking situation at the school.” He paused, eyeing Rob. “She’s down there near the chess club float.”
“Is that right?” Rob assessed the mayor, who appeared to be wearing the slight hint of a smirk.
“Just in case you were wondering, she’s wearing a green coat.”
“Aha.” Rob made a point of checking his watch. “Well, I guess it’s about time to get started.”
“Ten minutes ought to do it. Give the cheerleaders time to get situated on the float.” Bloom nodded. “Last Monday morning Jane Henderson called me about Florence Ross’s cats. I hear you all had quite a time rounding ’em up. I went on over to the shelter and gave them all shots and dewormed ’em.”
“I appreciate it, Mayor. That’s an important community service.”
“Yessir, took care of all ten cats. Did the spaying and neutering during the week. I guess you know Claire came over to the clinic on Wednesday and picked out three of ’em.”
“Two for her great-aunt and one for herself. Feisty little ball of yellow fluff. She didn’t tell you?”
Rob could see where this was leading. Somehow the mayor had gotten wind of the police chief and the schoolteacher spending time together, and he was not about to pass up the opportunity to pry.
“Haven’t talked to her since the day of the roundup,” Rob said. “I’m sure happy to hear Miss Ross has a couple of her cats back. That ought to take some of the sting out of her bite.”
The mayor chuckled. “I gather she was none too pleased about the raid. Jane Henderson told me Flossie was still squalling when she left. Said she hated to leave you and Claire there to chase down the last of the cats, but you didn’t seem to mind. Said you were planning to take a bunch of ’em over to Bolivar?”
“That’s right.”
“Ol’ Dandy’s sure makes good pizza. I’ll tell you what.”
Rob struggled to stifle his ire. One of the blessings of small-town life—and certainly its greatest bane—was the grapevine. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, or made it a point to find out. Neighbors checked on each other, and folks spent a good part of each evening sitting on the front porch watching the comings and goings of the community.
For a policeman, this was ideal. If an elderly woman fell while checking her mailbox, no more than five minutes went by before someone found her. Kids had a hard time getting into trouble, with everyone snooping over fences and craning necks to see into distant living-room windows. If someone got a new car, or dog, or wife, the whole town knew about it within the hour. Calls to the police station generally came from friends and neighbors who had spotted a problem, and Rob considered it a privilege to do his part in resolving any disturbance that marred Buffalo’s quaint serenity.
But he had no desire to have his own private life strung out like grandma’s wash for everyone to see and discuss. He could just about clobber Andrew Rodman right now. No doubt the young waiter at Dandy’s had friends in Buffalo, and he had been eager to report that he’d seen the police chief kissing the schoolteacher.
Everyone in town probably thought they were an item, even though Rob had refrained from calling Claire all week. Not that he hadn’t thought about her a lot. More than a lot.
In fact, he had driven past Florence Ross’s home several times hoping to spot Claire, but it seemed she hadn’t found room in her busy schedule to start painting the place. His normal rounds took him down her street, and even though he saw her lights shining on several evenings, he never caught a glimpse of the woman herself. Even when he visited the high school to give one of his regular talks on the dangers of drug and alcohol use, he failed to see Claire.
Yet their kiss played over and over in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it hadn’t mattered, he knew the truth. She had responded. The moment his lips touched hers, she had softened, melted, gone supple and breathless against him. She had liked it. He had, too. But they both knew better than to make anything of it. Rob didn’t want to date again, and he wasn’t about to get married. And Claire had left no doubt of her own feelings on the subject. She wanted nothing to do with romance.
Mayor Bloom’s juicy little rumor was about to end right now, Rob decided. He opened his mouth to speak.
“There she is, her own self,” Bloom said, pointing to the far end of the float. Claire had just walked around it, her auburn curls bright against the green coat. She was headed their way.
“I invited Claire to ride with us, Chief,” the mayor continued. “Figured you wouldn’t mind. Her on the committee to represent the schools, and all that. Jane Henderson is coming along, too. The shelter can use the community support. A lot of Mrs. Henderson’s funding comes from donations, you know. Everyone’s talking about Florence Ross’s cats and how you all rounded them up, so I thought it might be a good idea to have the two ladies along. They can throw bubble gum. I brought a whole bucket full of it.”
Before Rob could protest, the mayor pushed a plastic pail into his arms and headed for the squad car.
“Hey, my favorite kind,” Claire said, stepping up to Rob and dipping her hand into the bubble-gum tub. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
If he could have thought of something quick and witty, he would have shot it back at her. Instead, he stared like some goggle-eyed boy as she unwrapped the chunk of pink gum and popped it into her mouth. An expression of ecstasy suffused her face, turning her cheeks an even brighter pink as her lips went moist with delight.
“Good, huh?” Rob mumbled. He handed her the tub. “The mayor wants you and Jane Henderson to throw it out the window for the kids. He bought the gum.”
Her green eyes clouded for a moment. “Should be fun.” She shrugged as they crossed the street toward his car. “Hey, guess what. I have a cat. Remember the first one we caught? The little yellow thing—so scruffy and wild? Turns out he’s actually very quiet, and he loves to snuggle. Opie—that’s his name.”
Rob opened the car door for her, trying not to think about what it would feel like to cuddle up with Claire and her little cat. Trying to remember this was the Christmas parade, and he was the police chief, and…
The pink bubble that emerged between Claire’s lips took him by surprise. But there it was, round and shiny and getting larger by the moment. What else could he do but—
“Robert West!” she squealed as he smacked the bubble with his palm. It popped over the tip of her nose and across the side of her cheek like a big spill of pink paint. “I can’t believe you did that! Oh, great—it’s stuck!”
“Gotcha, Clarence.” Guffawing as loudly as he always had in high school when he popped Claire’s gum, Rob strutted around to the driver’s side of the squad car and climbed in. Hoo, that felt good! Nothing like busting a great big ol’ bubble to lift a man’s spirits.
Mayor Bloom, already seated, gaped as Claire attempted to peel the sticky film from her cheek. He gave Rob a frown and shook his head. Clearly this did not fit his mental image of two lovebirds—which pleased Rob no end. Claire was peering into the passenger’s side mirror when Jane Henderson trotted up, took one look at the predicament and burst out laughing.
“Well, I’ll be. You a history teacher and so sophisticated and all. Get on in, girl. I’ll help you.” Chuckling, she followed Claire into the back seat. “I’d have thought the gum was for the kids, but you never can tell what a grownup’ll do. Every now and then I’ll take it into my head to climb a tree or go wading in the creek. As a matter of fact, three girlfriends and I once ate an entire pan of brownies by ourselves. It’s just one of those things.”
“An entire pan?” Claire asked.
“Yep, and I’ll tell you what, my husband could have throttled me the day I did that. He came into the house after work—he has a good job over at the gas station on the highway, you know—and he smelled those brownies, but there wasn’t even a crumb left in the pan. Boy, he sulked about that for a week, but anyhow…girl, you have got that gum stuck all over the tip of your nose. Lean over here, and let me see if I can…well, Chief, if you’d quit jerking the car around, that sure would help.”
Rob glanced in the rearview mirror as he led the parade slowly out into the street toward the downtown square. As Jane Henderson tossed a handful of bubble gum to a group of children standing on the sidewalk, Claire fastened her focus directly on him. They eyed each other for a moment, then a slow grin tiptoed across her mouth. Rolling her eyes at him, she looked away, dug her fingers into the bucket of gum and threw a bunch out the window.
“Nothing like the Christmas parade to put a body into a good mood,” Jane commented. “Let me tell you what. I’ve been at every parade Buffalo’s had since the day I was born, and that’s saying something. I’m talking about homecoming parades and Easter parades—all of ’em. Yessir. It’s just one of those things. But this is the first time I ever got to ride in the lead car with the mayor. Kind of puts a different perspective on things,
you know, riding in the front. I’ve been on more than one float where you’re out there in the fresh air and you can near see the whole parade one end to the other if you’re up high enough. But inside this car and leading all the floats and the marching bands…well, it’s just a little different is all. Not that I don’t like it. I do, but you just don’t quite get the whole experience….”
Unable to concentrate on Jane’s running monologue despite his top speed of two miles per hour, Rob drove with one hand and waved with the other and tried to keep from glancing at Claire in the rearview mirror. Occasionally he obliged the crowd by whooping the squad car’s siren in little bursts that made the kids cover their ears and shriek in delight. The mayor called out the names of friends, neighbors and colleagues as the car rolled past. And Claire, in the back seat, threw gum and attempted to blot the sticky residue on the end of her nose. And she tried her best not to look in the mirror at Rob.
Like Jane Henderson, he had been at most of Buffalo’s parades, Rob realized as they approached the square with its brick courthouse and festive storefronts. The Christmas celebrations were his favorites—with the marching bands playing carols, floats depicting Christ’s birth or a family reading the Bible around a living-room fireplace, and the watching crowd bundled up to their necks in coats and mufflers. But this particular parade might take first place as the all-time, number one best of show.
The reason, of course, was the red-haired, green-eyed, sticky-nosed woman in the back seat. Despite everything sensible, and every good intention in his head, Rob knew he was going to have to find a way to kiss her again. As Jane Henderson would say, it was just one of those things.
Chapter Four
“No, don’t open that! Not that!” Florence Ross tottered across the room, her ratty pink bathrobe flying out behind her skinny legs and her hands clawing the air in agitation. “You stay away from there, girl. That’s mine. It’s my private business!”
“Okay, Aunt Flossie. Relax.”
That Christmas Feeling Page 6