Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  The first two items were handled quickly. The last variance request led to a brief debate, but soon that, too, was decided. Jillian gave some final instructions to the secretary and gripped the gavel. It looked much like the death grip Lyddie had on her pen.

  “Number four, Delaney to Brewster.”

  Jillian ran through the facts of the sale as she had with all the previous items. As before, once she was finished, she asked for comments from the floor.

  A chorus of “here”s sounded behind her. Lyddie turned in her chair to see approximately twenty hands shoot into the air.

  Jillian gestured to the front of the room. “All those wishing to speak, please move to—”

  “Wait a minute, Jillian.”

  Lyddie’s heart thumped at the sound of that unforgettably deep voice booming through the chatter.

  The man making his way to the table bore so little resemblance to the one she knew that for a moment she thought she must be mistaken. She saw no shorts, no tank top, no Rollerblades. He wasn’t even in a short-sleeved dress shirt, as he’d been that day at the cemetery. Instead, he was formally clad in a navy pinstripe suit highlighted by a baby blue tie. His hair looked freshly cut. He was clean shaven, with no hint of the five o’clock shadow that had brought her such delight.

  He made it to the podium before the table, and turned to catch her eye. There, clear on his face for the world to see, was all the laughter and tenderness and understanding that had led her to fall for him. The buzzing in the room escalated.

  For one brief moment, she let herself soak in that gaze. Then she looked away.

  But she couldn’t block out the memory.

  A movement on the other side of the room drew her attention. Ruth stood, staring at J.T. with disbelief. Then a thin arm reached up from beside her and yanked her back into her seat.

  Despite herself, Lyddie snickered.

  J.T. cleared his throat. “Madam Mayor, members of the committee, members of the audience...”

  What the heck was this?

  “I know that many of you wish to comment on this sale, but I ask for your indulgence. Let me speak first. I can guarantee that when I’m done, the number of others who feel moved to do so will be greatly reduced.”

  Lyddie stared in amazement at the man addressing the crowd so easily. He’d always seemed so cocksure and certain, strutting through the town with a devil-may-care grin, but this—this was different. He stood and moved and spoke with a confidence and respect she’d never seen before.

  Though, yes. She had. When he listened patiently to her stammered proposition. Whenever they were alone together. When he comforted her as she cried over Sara.

  When he told her he loved her.

  Behind the table, Jillian nodded warily. She looked ready to keel over at any moment.

  “The committee recognizes J.T.—”

  “Justin,” he said with a hard smile. “Justin Tanner Delaney.”

  Iris’s voice floated above the crowd. “Actually, it’s Dr. Delaney.”

  Surprised mutters rose and fell like a cicada’s song.

  “He has a PhD in physics and astronomy,” Iris continued happily. Up at the podium, J.T. turned slightly pink.

  Jillian closed her eyes.

  “J.T.,” she said softly. “Dr. Delaney. You may continue.”

  “Thank you.” He offered a deferential nod to the committee before turning back to the audience.

  “Folks, we all know why I’m here. I want to sell my properties to Lydia Brewster. And I know why most of you are here—you either wanted the sale to go through weeks ago, or you want those buildings to go to someone who can bring more jobs to Comeback Cove.”

  Murmurs of agreement filled the hall.

  “Let me say, first thing, that I sympathize with you. The town’s economic growth is important. And let’s call a spade a spade. I know many of you feel the town wouldn’t be quite so eager for more jobs if not for the fallout from actions committed by me—” he paused for the briefest moment “—me, and only me, the night of the Big Burn.”

  What on earth?

  Voices rose once again. A couple of chairs scraped. Lyddie’s jaw sagged and she stared at J.T., certain she had heard him wrong, praying he wasn’t doing what she had a horrible feeling he had planned. She was probably the only person in the room who could read the assurance in the quick glance he shot at Jillian. She knew she was the only one who noticed the way Jillian bowed her head, as if in agreement. Or acceptance.

  Holy— Had Jillian been part of the group that night? Jillian?

  What had he said about the girl he’d been with? Lyddie replayed the conversation in her mind, fast and frantic, and realized he had very carefully avoided saying anything that would identify her.

  Holy crap.

  Lyddie looked at Jillian, barely holding on, and realized J.T. had lied when he said he never saw the girl again. He had crossed paths with the one person who could exonerate him, each and every day of this long summer.

  And she had a horrible feeling that he had turned around and chosen to dance with the devil to ensure this sale went through.

  Lyddie tried to catch his eye, to stop him before he said anything even more damning. But now, of course, he was doing his best to avoid looking in her direction.

  “I’m here to ask that you all let go of the issues surrounding the Burn. Yes, Comeback Cove survived some hard times back then, but, people, fixating on it and letting it be the basis of your decisions won’t do a bit of good. I hurt this town. No argument there. But letting it continue to split you apart? That’s going to do more long-term damage than anything I ever did.” He glanced down at his notes before looking to the crowd once again. “Right now, I want you to forget ancient history, and focus on something more recent. Something that happened four years ago.”

  Lyddie bolted upright. He wouldn’t. Not after everything she’d told him. Not after promising that he would never pity her.

  “Lydia Brewster is here tonight because her husband put his life on the line for Comeback Cove.”

  No. He couldn’t play the widow card. She wouldn’t let him.

  “Everything she has done since he died has been for one reason—to help his children remember him. She brought them here. Moved into the house where he grew up. Took over the coffee shop where he—”

  “Excuse me, can I say something?” Lyddie jumped to her feet. She didn’t dare look at J.T. If she did, she wasn’t sure if she would kiss him or kill him.

  Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on Jillian, who first brightened, then slumped back.

  “Sorry, Lyddie. He has three minutes left.”

  “But I—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “Lyddie. Sit down before I have to ask you to leave.”

  Well, hell. How was she supposed to just sit there and listen while J.T. condemned her to life as the Young Widow Brewster? Because that was exactly what was happening. As he went on, talking about Lyddie’s sacrifices, about memorializing Glenn in ways that mattered, she could feel the pity level rising ever higher. It was as if the river had overflowed and crept into the room. But she was the only one who would be lost in this flood.

  No. She wouldn’t. She was an adult who knew who she was now. But her children didn’t have that same certainty. Not yet.

  At last, he finished. He ended with a final appeal to the committee to do the right thing, to lay aside whatever feelings they might have about him and instead, focus on her and the kids. “Give Lydia Brewster exactly what she has earned,” he said to the quiet room. “Give her the chance to keep herself and her children in the building where her husband’s memory still lives.”

  His footsteps were the only sound as he walked back the way he’d entered and left the room. Without ev
er once mentioning the rest of the story. Without ever once hinting that there was more to Glenn, more to himself, than most of the people in this room would ever know.

  Jillian broke the silence. “Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?”

  Lyddie paused in anticipation of the sea of hands she’d counted before. But as she scanned the crowd, one by one the faces reddened and turned away. Not a single person approached the front.

  “Lyddie?” Jillian toyed with the gavel as if itching to smash it over someone’s head. “It’s your turn.”

  Slowly, Lyddie rose from her chair. She’d never been one to fear public speaking, but this time her legs insisted on wobbling as she walked to the front of the room. Once she made it, she took a deep breath and looked out.

  There they all were. Ruth, with tears running down a face twisted in both sorrow and fear. Iris, smiling at her in encouragement. Nadine, frowning, gesturing to her to get on with it. And around them, all the people who had come to mean so much to her, all the residents of Comeback Cove who had no idea what they had done—to J.T., to her kids, to her. All those usually kind hearts that had no idea that their good intentions were choking the life out of her.

  “Um...hi. Okay, for the record, my name is Lydia Brewster, and as J.T.—uh, as Dr. Delaney said, I want to...”

  She stopped. What did she want? It had been so clear, once. Before J.T. had loved his way into her heart as well as her bed. Before Sara’s dreams had slammed against her own wishes, leaving her uncertain what was best for anyone anymore.

  Before she saw that there was more to Glenn. To J.T. To herself.

  “I’m not sure where to begin, but...”

  But what?

  Someone in the back row shook a head. Lyddie squinted. Anna Lockhart, the teacher who never got over Glenn. Anna Lockhart, who made Tish uncomfortable with her constant comments.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I knew what to say, but then everything—”

  The crowd was growing impatient. Feet shuffled, voices whispered. They wanted her to finish so the meeting could end and they could go home and tell themselves they’d done the right thing. And every time they walked into that shop they would remember what they had done for her. Everything they had given up for her. For her and her children.

  For as long as they lived in Comeback Cove, neither she nor the kids would be able to escape. And if she, a grown woman, felt choked by it, then what the hell was it doing to her kids?

  “Oh, my God.” She blushed when she realized she’d said it aloud. There were a couple of titters, but she barely heard them. She was too busy turning to address Jillian.

  “Your Wor— I mean, Mayor McFarlane, and members of the planning board, and all the rest of you. I want to thank you for giving this matter such thorough consideration. If I hadn’t had to fight to have this sale approved, I wouldn’t have had the chance to learn some truths about myself, and about—about some other people. People and history.”

  In the fourth row, Steve McCoy turned white. A couple of other heads ducked. Lyddie could feel the mood shifting from impatience to cold, gripping fear.

  What was it J.T. had said?

  People do stupid things when they’re afraid.

  Steve and the others—they’d been acting out of fear. For twenty-five years they’d been walking around with that secret hanging over them. It might not have impacted their every move, but it had eaten at them. It had to. Otherwise, none of them would have reacted the way they did when J.T. came back to town.

  “Not to worry.” Lyddie shook her head before anyone could panic. “I’m not out to rewrite things that have long been accepted as gospel. A very wise man once told me that the last thing most people want to hear is the truth, and I think—no, I know he was right. About that and a lot of other things.”

  Ruth closed her eyes and rocked in her seat. Iris beamed through her tears and gave Lyddie a thumbs-up. The rest of the audience erupted in a wave of squeaking chairs and rustling papers and fierce whispers that threatened to drown out anything else Lyddie might have wanted to say. That was fine. She could wait.

  But not for much longer.

  Jillian leaned forward. “Lyddie, we need to vote. Is there a point to this?”

  A point? Oh, yeah. Lyddie scanned the faces in front of her and admitted that she was no better than Steve and the others. She’d been acting out of fear, too. Fear of falling in love again, of having her heart broken again. That was the real reason she’d picked J.T. for her fling. It wasn’t just because of the way he filled out those bike shorts, it was because she thought he’d be gone before he could do any damage to her heart.

  Everyone said she was so strong, so brave. It was time she lived up to her reputation.

  “Lydia...”

  “I’m sorry.” Lyddie gathered her papers. “You’ve all been wonderful. I thank you for everything you’ve done and I’m sorry for wasting your time. I just realized that I really, really shouldn’t be here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  LYDDIE HAD A GOOD head start, and the element of surprise in her favor. So she made it out of Town Hall and inside River Joe’s before Nadine and Iris caught up with her.

  “Are you all right, Lyddie?” Iris patted her arm. “Do you need anything?”

  Nadine, meanwhile, simply rolled her eyes and said, “So you finally got a clue.”

  Lyddie said nothing. She curled up in the love seat by the fireplace with her eyes closed, listening to the women whisper to each other. She really wished they would go away so she could get on with the more important activities ahead of her, but they would need explanations anyway. She might as well get it over with all at once.

  She opened her eyes. “Where’s Ruth? Is she okay?”

  “I’m here.”

  Ruth sounded weak and wobbly as she walked through the door, but at least she was here and on her feet, not sobbing in a corner all alone.

  “You’re going to move.” It wasn’t a question. Nadine grabbed Iris’s hand and dragged her toward the kitchen.

  Lyddie guided Ruth down beside her on the love seat, grasping Ruth’s cold hands tight between her own. “I know this is hard. I know I promised I would stay. But my first duty has to be to the kids, and this isn’t good for them anymore. It was the right thing when we first came, but not now. Now they need to grow up without the pressure of living up to the myth this town has created.”

  “But what on earth is wrong with having a good example?”

  “Ruth, think. Ben got caught defacing a school that bears his father’s name. Tish is stuck with an obsessive teacher. And Sara wants to go live someplace where nobody knows who her father was, where she can be who or what she wants to be.”

  “Sara just wants music lessons.”

  Interesting, that Ruth had no comeback for the other two. “It’s more than the music.”

  “It’s because of him, isn’t it?” The bitterness in Ruth’s voice made it clear that she wasn’t talking about Glenn.

  Lyddie placed her hand on Ruth’s knee. “You probably won’t believe this, not now, but it’s not because of J.T. We need to move no matter what happens with him.”

  The first sob broke through as Ruth crumpled. Lyddie pulled her close, her own tears slipping down her cheeks.

  “We’re not going far,” she whispered. “That, I can definitely say. Not back to Peterborough, but somewhere new. New and close. Maybe Brockville, or Ottawa. That way, if you choose to stay here, we’ll be close enough that visiting is easy.” She drew in her breath. “Or, if you choose to come with us, you could still keep up with everyone here.”

  Ruth raised her head. The cautious hope on her face was enough to break Lyddie’s heart.

  “You—you would want me to come with you?”

  “I want what is best for my kids. That i
ncludes their grandmother. And even though you and I have had some...some rough times the past couple of months, I do love you and want you to be happy, too. You belong in our lives. That’s not going to change.”

  “But what about...him?”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen with J.T. I really don’t.” Her voice faltered. “I would like to think that we might have a chance, because, Ruth, I think I’m in love with him.”

  A small yip came from the kitchen. Ruth looked from the door to Lyddie, then hiccupped while Lyddie giggled.

  “Gotta love a small town,” she whispered to Ruth, who nodded. Lyddie turned toward the kitchen, ready to call to the others to join them, but Ruth raised a hand to stop her first.

  “I have to admit, I have a lot of hard feelings about that—about J.T.,” she said softly. “But if learning to let go of that is the price I have to pay to be with my grandchildren...if you’re still willing to give me a chance...I promise I will try.”

  “He’s a good man. He deserves that.”

  Ruth’s nod was small, but it was still so much more than Lyddie would have believed possible that she couldn’t help smiling. She and Ruth would get through this. They would find their way.

  Another sound from the kitchen made Ruth shake her head. “Iris Delaney, stop trying to pretend you’re not eavesdropping and come on out here. You too, Nadine.”

  “’Bout time,” Nadine said as she sauntered toward them. “I was getting a crick in my neck trying to listen to you two through that door.” Her unblinking stare made Lyddie twitch. “So? Am I out of a job?”

  “Not yet. But you know, I bet you would do really well in the potato-chip business.”

  Nadine nodded slowly before breaking into a grin. “You might be onto something, kiddo.”

  Iris nudged Lyddie aside to hand Ruth a tissue. “Since you know we were listening, there’s no point in beating around the bush. It just so happens that J.T. and I are also looking to settle in, oh, Brockville or Ottawa. Maybe you and I could get a place together. It would make the move that much easier for both of us, and Lyddie and J.T. will need some grandmas handy to take the children for the honeymoon.”