“No, answering yourself is.”
“Then I’m totally off my rocker,” he said with his flash of a grin. “Are you free for lunch?”
“I have to wait for Davis to come in before I can leave.” She looked hard at Paul. “Didn’t we have this conversation up at Chief Chipaway?”
“It’s just a friendly lunch. No evil intentions or ulterior motives.”
“You’re a politician and a lawyer, so I don’t believe you for a second.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s right, I picked the two least respected professions on earth.”
“You could try selling used cars.”
“Funny. One warning, though. If you start throwing yourself at me, I’ll take you up on it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Am I late?” Davis Honaker appeared out of the back hallway, his white hair perfectly combed and his beige linen trousers ironed to a knife pleat. “Paul, you son of a gun, I didn’t know you were an art lover.”
Paul stood and shook hands with the older man. “I’m interested in that horse painting you have locked up in the back room,” Paul said with a wink at Claire. “I’ll give you two hundred for it.”
Davis snorted. “Two hundred thousand wouldn’t even begin to touch it.”
Paul whistled. “I’ll settle for a postcard, then.”
“No postcards,” Davis said. “We tried to get permission, but the artist’s agent said no. Can I interest in you some Len Boggs note cards? They were Claire’s idea, and they’re selling like hot-cakes. Very tasteful and a nice little bit of cash flow between the art sales.”
“Thanks, but I do all my writing on yellow legal pads,” Paul said. “Can I steal Claire for lunch?”
Davis’s expression turned speculative as he looked back and forth between them.
“We’re old friends from high school days,” Claire hurried to say.
“Just have her back by two,” Davis said.
Claire glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes after noon. Usually, she took half an hour for lunch. She sighed at Davis’s matchmaking. “Let me grab my bag, and I’ll be right there.”
When she returned, Paul escorted her out to a gleaming black Corvette. “I brought my car today because I want to take you on a guided tour.”
“She’s a beauty,” Claire said, running her hand along the low, sleek line of the roof. “But I remember you always said your first sports car would be a BMW.”
“When you’re in politics, local or otherwise, you buy American.” He held the door open for her.
“I like this car. It makes a completely different statement than a Beemer. It says, ‘Look at me because I’m pure speed and power.’ The BMW is just another sports car.”
“And you wonder why I tried to kiss you by Chief Chipaway.” He said it with the kind of grin that robbed it of provocation.
“What sort of a tour are we taking?” Claire said as Paul got in and eased the car onto the street.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about today’s Sanctuary. Being the former mayor, I thought I’d show you a few.”
The Corvette rumbled down Washington Street. “You’ve already noticed the old cracked cement sidewalks have been redone in brick.”
“Yeah, they’re not so great for walking in heels,” Claire teased.
Paul ignored her, waving his hand toward a sparkling fountain centering a green square of grass. “Remember when that was a run-down parking lot?”
“I do.”
“And you used to complain that Sanctuary didn’t have a bookstore,” he said, pointing to the display of colorful book covers in the bay window of Books, Books, and More Books. “Not to mention our permanent theater, right down around the corner in the former five-and-dime store.”
Claire looked out at the Victorian storefronts lining the main street. Buildings that had been neglected when she lived here were now shiny with new paint and restored trim work.
“There’s the new library, an annual concert series at Union Hall, and of course, Davis’s gallery adds more artistic culture to town.”
Claire slanted a teasing look at Paul. “It is so funny to hear you talking like a...a chamber of commerce video. You used to complain about Sanctuary even more than I did.”
He looked out at the buildings scrolling past, and she saw pride in his gaze. “I discovered there was a lot to like here, and I could change some of the things I didn’t like.”
“Now that’s the kind of attitude we need more of in politics,” Claire said. “You’re a good man, Paul.”
“There’s the kiss of death,” he said, making a wry face. “You only hung out with me because I was a motorcycle-riding, hell-raising troublemaker.”
“No, I hung out with you because I saw the future mayor behind the tough facade. And maybe a little bit because you rode a motorcycle. I had my goody-goody reputation I needed to overcome.”
“Even hanging out with me couldn’t overcome that,” he said as he turned onto Battle Street. Once a residential neighborhood, the immaculately tended Victorian houses now sported discreet signs offering professional services from accountants, lawyers, and dentists. They seemed to be vying with each other for the most colorful flower beds and window boxes. Paul parked halfway down the block in front of an especially exuberant garden. The sign read, Tammy’s Place, Bring Your Appetite and We’ll Satisfy It. “Remember Tammy Hodges? She was a couple of grades behind us in school.”
Claire dredged up the image of a girl with a mass of frizzy brown hair, freckles, and braces. “She used to bring homemade ice cream to school all the time. It was delicious.”
“Well, she started with that and added breakfast and lunch. She doesn’t do dinner because she wants to be home with her family in the evening.”
“That sounds like Tammy. She loved babysitting,” Claire said, joining Paul on the sidewalk. They strolled up the steps and snagged a table on the wide front porch.
After they ordered, Paul swept a hand around the scene, encompassing brilliant flowers, historic buildings, giant shade trees, and the murmur of contented diners. “All I’m trying to point out is, you might find living here more pleasant than you think.”
Paul was right. Sanctuary had changed, and not just physically.
But could she be happy here?
She looked back at Paul. “You know how hard I worked to get to New York.”
“Yeah, I do. You deserve all the success you found there.”
“I have an amazing job waiting for me, opening a whole new gallery. Matching people with the right art is my passion. Here I’m sometimes lucky to sell two boxes of note cards in a day.”
“And you have a man waiting for you back in the city. I understand. I get carried away sometimes.”
Claire decided she owed her old friend the truth. “The man I was talking about isn’t in New York. He’s here.”
“I see,” he said, looking away from her and drumming his fingers on the tabletop. After a few seconds, he turned back to her. “Let me guess. Dr. Tim.”
“Yes, it’s Tim. I’m as surprised as anyone. We both understand it’s not a serious thing since I’m leaving when Holly’s better.”
Paul’s gaze stayed on her. “How not serious is it?”
She thought of all her questions and reservations from the morning. “It’s too soon to tell.”
His fingers went still. “Well, I guess that’s between you and him, and none of my business.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Paul turned the conversation to other topics, much to Claire’s relief. She was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t gotten angry with her about hiding her relationship with Tim. She slipped into the relaxed banter she and Paul had always shared.
Her sense of ease lasted through the sandwiches.
“Have you been to the Aerie yet?” Paul asked as the waitress brought two dishes of peach-and-pecan ice cream. “It’s amazing what Adam Bosch has created up
there. Just like a New York City restaurant but with a better view.”
“I hear it’s really expensive and hard to get reservations so I haven’t tried,” Claire said, remembering her aborted date with Tim. “How many times have you been there?”
“A couple, but always for political fundraisers,” he said with a grimace. “You can’t enjoy the food when you’re glad-handing. How about I take you? Just a friendly dinner.”
“Thanks, but I sort of owe Tim my first meal there. We were on our way to dinner when Frank showed up at Holly’s.”
Paul’s angular face went tight. “For such a slow talker, he moves pretty fast. Maybe another time. Did you know this flavor of ice cream was voted best in the state?”
Once again, he dropped the subject, but Claire wasn’t fooled. Paul had sent the metaphorical foosball spinning into the center of the table. He was in the game, and Tim was his opponent.
“I told Paul about Frank taking the children,” Holly said as Claire stowed peanut butter and grape jelly in the refrigerator. She had fixed the girls an after-school snack before they went down the street to play at the Defibaughs’.
“You did? He didn’t mention it,” Claire said without thinking. “When did you call him?”
“This morning, after you left. I decided you were right about documenting everything that happens. He agreed and said he’d fill out the papers and take them to the judge today.”
“You did the right thing,” Claire said. “This way, the police have a legal justification for keeping an eye on you and the girls.”
“What were you talking to Paul about, if it wasn’t my divorce?”
“Nothing in particular. We had lunch together at Tammy’s Place. It’s fantastic.” Holly was eyeing Claire in a way that made her keep talking. “Paul’s proud of what he accomplished as mayor, so he took me on a tour to show it off.”
“Sis, is something going on between you and Paul?” Holly’s tone was like old times: affectionate, concerned, and teasing, without an ounce of accusation. “Because I thought you and Tim Arbuckle were an item.”
“We are, sort of.” Claire hesitated. Despite the previous day’s confession, she wasn’t sure where she stood with her sister. “I didn’t really mean to get involved with anyone.”
“And here you are with two men chasing you. Hey, enjoy it!”
Claire hesitated a moment, wanting to share her dilemma with Holly, but it was tough to trust her enough to open up again. “Paul and I are just catching up on old gossip. He knows everyone!”
She felt a guilty sense of relief when her cell phone rang. She snatched it up to check the caller ID. When she saw Tim’s name, relief loosened the knot between her shoulders. Maybe she hadn’t completely ruined things by bringing up his dead wife.
“Claire, I called to apologize for being a jerk this morning.”
“You weren’t a jerk.” She put a smile in her voice. “Just brooding. I couldn’t blame you. I brought up a difficult subject.”
“If I provide dinner, may I invite myself to eat with you all?”
“Bribery always works. I wasn’t looking forward to macaroni and cheese again.” She loved his thinking he needed to bring food to make up for his withdrawn mood.
“Tell me what takeout you want, and I’ll be there about six.”
“How about the Aerie?”
His chuckle seemed to reverberate right through her. “Was I that big a jerk?”
“Let me consult with Holly and call you back.”
She pressed the End button and stood staring down at the phone for a minute, savoring the pleasure of having Tim worry about her feelings. She turned to find Holly watching her. “Tim’s going to bring us some grown-up food for dinner. What would you like?”
“Chinese! I have a craving for General Tso’s chicken.”
“Great idea! I keep forgetting we can get Chinese food in Sanctuary now. Pork lo mein would hit the spot.”
Holly tilted her head. “You’re grinning like a Cheshire cat, and I don’t think it’s about pork lo mein.”
“It’s relief. I said something stupid this morning, and I wasn’t sure if he was angry. Turns out he’s not.” She tried to tone down the grin, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“This morning?” Her sister was starting to grin too.
Claire wanted to kick herself. She’d forgotten that Holly had no idea she’d spent the night with Tim. “It’s complicated.”
The sound of approaching children’s voices ended the conversation. As she listened with half an ear to the little girls’ chatter, she debated what to say to Holly about Tim. Her feelings about him were hard to separate from her feelings about returning to Sanctuary. She had to tread carefully when describing those to her sister; she didn’t want to play into Frank’s comments about her attitude. She wasn’t even sure how she really felt about her hometown anymore. It had been easier when she knew she didn’t want to be here.
“I have five tickets to the 4-H fundraiser at the fairgrounds. Any chance I can persuade you ladies to join me? There’s going to be live music.” Tim sat back from the table littered with empty take-out containers. “It’s a little greedy on my part, but I like the idea of walking in with four beautiful women. What do you say, Brianna, Kayleigh?”
“Yes, please,” Brianna said, “if it’s okay with Mama.”
Holly nodded.
“I’ll come with you too,” Kayleigh piped up. “I’m going to raise a lamb for 4-H when I’m old enough. Maybe you can help me since you’re an animal doctor. Do lambs need shots like people?”
“They sure do. I’ll make sure your lamb gets all the vaccinations it needs.” He looked at Claire. “How about you?”
“I’ve had all my shots already, thanks.” She watched the smile slowly light his face. She loved sitting across the table from him so she could enjoy the lock of hair falling onto his forehead and the tendons of his forearms flexing as he reached for another food container. When he’d arrived carrying three large bags of Chinese takeout, she’d thought it was overkill, but he had polished off every bite no one else had claimed.
“They forgot the vaccination for being a smarty pants,” he said, his gaze inviting Brianna and Kayleigh to join in his joke. The little girls burst into delighted giggles.
“Oh, you meant to ask if I would come to the 4-H event,” Claire said, feigning innocent surprise. “Why didn’t you say so? I’d love to come. Holly, if you think it would be too tiring for you, we’ll take Brianna and Kayleigh ourselves.”
“I’m coming too. It’s been forever since I went out for fun.”
Later, as Claire walked Tim out to his truck, she said, “That was really nice of you to invite everyone to the fundraiser.”
“Truth is, I bought ten tickets to support the cause. Might as well use some of them.” He came to a halt by the driver’s side door. “Can I persuade you to come home with me again tonight?”
“Because you’re worried about Frank?”
“Because I want you there with me.”
She felt a twinge of unease as a jubilant “yes!” tried to wrench itself from her throat. Her response to him was too powerful, overwhelming all the reservations she had about him and the future of their relationship.
“I promise to behave like a gentleman in the morning,” he said as she hesitated.
“Then I definitely won’t go with you,” she said with a grin.
His face lit with wicked intention as he backed her up against the truck. Applying just enough pressure so she felt every inch of his body from knee to shoulder, he sandwiched her between himself and the metal. He cradled her head between his two big palms and leaned down to kiss her slowly but thoroughly. He lifted his head and said, “Well?”
“You’re very persuasive, but I want to stay with Holly tonight. We need some more sister time.”
Tim’s expression went from hopeful to accepting in an instant, which made it all the harder to resist him.
“
Could you try to persuade me one more time before you leave?” she asked, running her hands up his chest and linking them behind his neck.
He obliged her.
“DOESN’T HOLLY SEEM to be having fun?” Claire asked as Tim handed her an ice-cold can of Dr. Pepper and sat down beside her on the hay bale. “I’m so glad you asked her to come. She looks much happier than I’ve seen her since I got here.”
The 4-H fundraiser turned out to be a barbecue and barn dance in the huge covered livestock show ring at the state fairgrounds. The dirt floor was covered with fragrant wood shavings, while red-and-white bunting hung from the rafters. Hay bales edged the ring to provide seating.
Holly was sitting at one of the scattered round tables, laughing with a group of people that happened to include Officer Robbie McGraw. Brianna and Kayleigh were playing chase among the tables with some other children.
“Getting out of the house has done her good, but you should be taking the credit. She wouldn’t have come without you,” Tim said, tilting his head back as he drank his own soda, the muscles of his throat working. He pulled a baggie tied with blue ribbons out of his shirt pocket and offered it to her. “I bought us some brownies at the bake sale.”
“Oh my God, Mrs. Estep’s famous fudgies! Who did you have to bribe?” She looked past the dangling dessert to see his slow smile and the curve of hair on his forehead. The need to touch him surged through her. She knew she shouldn’t because people would notice, but she reached out and threaded her fingers through the wayward hank of hair to comb it away from his face.
His smile never wavered, but his eyes went dark and hot. “I see I need to cultivate Mrs. Estep’s acquaintance further,” he said, running the back of his hand up Claire’s bare arm to the ruffle of the embroidered Mexican blouse that slid off her shoulder.
It should have been nothing, the mere brush of his warm skin against hers, but it sent shimmers of heat whirling down to pool between her thighs. Her eyelids fluttered halfway closed as she gave in to the intensity of her response.
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