“I’d like to see that program,” Larry said with professional interest.
“We should buy it,” Zeke said crisply.
Quince gave him an exasperated glare, before saying, “We might be interested in licensing the program, if it tests out to do what you say it does.”
Warren rose to that bait with an explanation that had Larry getting more and more excited.
“Anton!” Ma called from the kitchen. “Almost it’s time for you to leave for the parade.”
Zeke’s mind had returned to farming. “That’s it. That’s what we need to give Everett—the same principle as Warren’s program.” And just as Darcie had said about the handheld. “We have to give the farmers options. Give them tools to make their own decisions instead of trying to hand them answers. Warren, work with Larry on how you did that.”
“Hey, your guy said you’d license my program. That means money and—”
“You’re still working off your crime. So you’ll work with Larry for free on crop selection. And we aren’t licensing your program, not yet, anyway, because Quince here will try to get it at a bargain. I’ll set you up with people to give you advice, and then you take it to auction. Just remember the top bidder isn’t always the best deal.”
“An auction, Zeke?” Quince protested. “We could’ve had that thing for pennies.”
“Now, Anton,” Ma said from the doorway of his bedroom, hands on hips. “You change into your suit. And you, there is cake in the kitchen. Come eat.”
“Yeah,” Zeke said, as the males scrambled to obey, “but I know his mother, Quince. Worse, my mother knows his mother.”
“You look natural sitting on the back of a convertible.”
Zeke twisted around to find Darcie, in uniform, standing beyond the back bumper in the parade staging area, otherwise known as the D-Shop parking lot.
“So, you made it to work on time.”
“Barely.”
He grinned. “Barely is what almost made you late for work.”
She blushed.
He wanted her out of that uniform and somewhere comfortable—or hell, it didn’t have to be that comfortable. The trunk lid would do.
“Don’t even think about it.” She held up a cop’s stop-sign hand.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it.”
“I’m on duty. I’m leaving.”
They looked at each other across the trunk of the car.
“You better go, Darce. You better go now.”
She looked at him for three more long seconds, then pivoted and left. Just before she went behind a van, she looked back.
“Have fun, Zeke.”
He was crazy about the woman, and he’d give a hell of a lot to have had time after their lovemaking to talk out everything they needed to talk out. A lot of possibilities, a lot of changes.
He might have handed her the envelope Quince had brought right here and now. But there was no time.
It would have to wait.
The parade started with his car, driven by Kurt, the rookie, right behind Sarge in the leadoff patrol car. He saw Ma, with Quince, Larry and Warren. Also Warren’s mother. Mrs. Richards. Josh Kincannon from the high school with three kids who appeared to be his. Everett Hooper with an attractive, unsmiling young woman. Jennifer and Martha Barrett with the dignitaries at the review stand beside the Dairy Queen. Mildred Magnus. Loris from the café. A blur of people, hands waving, faces smiling, voices calling his name. People he knew, some he remembered, those he recognized and strangers he guessed were out-of-towners. He surprised himself by hoping they spent generously while they were in Drago.
He spotted Darcie, saw her turn from a hard-eyed teenaged boy she was talking to, and their eyes met for one heated moment before the parade carried him away.
It went by so fast. Before he knew it, he and Sarge were spectators, too, watching the rest of the parade come across the finish line. Until the final float, the one with the queen and her court, drawing cheers all along. Cristina’s smile appeared rather brittle and Traci still looked nervous, but they were there. Mandy and the others were radiant. Vital and excited and bright.
He watched with a strange pressure growing in his chest that he finally realized was probably pride. They were good kids, even Cristina in her way. It took backbone to show up today, to sit not in the queen’s spot where everyone had expected, but in a lower position. To sit and smile and wave.
Bringing up the rear was a whirring fire truck letting loose with occasional blares to the delight of the kids.
Behind it, it seemed half the crowd followed, becoming part of the parade, walking down Main Street, greeting friends, shouting hellos.
Ma and Quince found him, standing on the curb, chatting with Sarge. Quince’s surprise showed. Ma smiled and said it was time to get ready for the Lilac Ball, and for Quince to stop arguing, of course he was staying with them and not at that motel clear out by the interstate.
Quince could have his narrow boyhood bed, Zeke thought, because he had every intention of spending the night in Darcie’s bed.
Chapter Eleven
Darcie had no doubt that the person who had originated the official schedule for the final day of the Drago Lilac Festival, a schedule now fixed in tradition, had been a man. No woman would plan a parade to end in late afternoon, with a ball to start only a few hours later.
So the queen and her court all had to repair the wear and tear on clothes, hair and complexion in short order.
A cop who’d been on duty had the same concerns about hair and complexion, but at least she got a change of wardrobe after her quick shower. On the other hand she had less time, because as a member of the festival committee, she had to be at the country club early.
Darcie put her hair up in a French twist. Dangling gold earrings added to the look. Then there was the dress. From a deep cinnamon red at the top, it blended lighter tones in ombré satin that swirled at the bottom of the bias cut skirt. Wide set straps set off the sweetheart neckline—and her bust.
Zeke would love it.
She was thinking exactly how much—and how—he would love it when Chief Harnett intercepted her just inside the side entry of the country club.
“I want to talk to you, Barrett—Darcie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is unofficial. That’s why I wanted to talk to you off-duty.”
The only response that came to mind was yes, sir but that didn’t seem to be what he wanted to hear.
“Marty—your mother—doesn’t know I’m doing this, and you’re not to blame her. She wants nothing but your good. She won’t consider marriage until we’ve lived together for a full year.”
Darcie heard the words, she understood each of them separately—your mother, marriage, lived together—but they wouldn’t come together in her mind to form a coherent whole.
“I told her I’m not Gordon Barrett,” the chief went on. “But I can’t really blame her. She’d be a fool not to test out what I’m really about before she commits to me, because she’s a woman who won’t back away once she’s committed herself.
“Otherwise she would have left that man years before he died. Idiot never saw what Marty had to offer. He made her stop seeing it, too. I never met him, but your father was a first-class sonuvabitch. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” she said automatically.
Hard to argue with the truth.
While her brain still struggled to put together her mother and the chief, the concept of her father’s sonuvabitchness was one she’d chewed on for some time.
Idiot never saw what Marty had to offer. He made her stop seeing it, too.
Even after Gordon Barrett was dead, his influence had lived on, with his daughter looking at Martha—Marty— through Gordon’s eyes.
“Yes, well.” The chief looked toward the ceiling light, then down at the patterned carpet. “I wanted you to know, because I’m not going to let Marty say no to dancing in public this time, and I didn’t want you to be taken by surpr
ise.”
Oh, no, she wouldn’t want to be taken by surprise. “You—you’re dating my mother?”
He blushed.
As if this conversation weren’t weird enough, Chief Dutch Harnett blushed. He also stood straight and looked her in the eyes. “Yes, we are. And I intend we’ll be doing a lot more. I love her. And she loves me.”
From his first glimpse of Darcie in that amazing dress, Zeke wanted to get her out of it.
They were both showing the effects of little sleep last night and their energetic morning.
He was mellowed, relaxed.
He couldn’t wait until this Lilac Ball was over, yet he was enjoying himself. Especially dancing with Darcie. The movement of the dance and having her in his arms was exquisite torture. Having her smile up at him was perfect.
She was wired, wound up.
About the ball, the end of the festival, her mother’s obvious romance with the chief, and how people were reacting to the fact that the Guest of Honor danced almost every dance with their Darcie.
Most of the women smiled at them, from Ma’s beam to Martha Barrett’s more gentle smile to Jennifer’s delighted grin. The men’s responses were more varied. Chief Harnett gave him a look that in another century might have ended with the question, “What are your intentions, young man?” Sarge grinned from ear to ear. Ted Warinke clapped him on the back and said, “The geek comes through!”
Zeke let Quince have two dances with Darcie. After the second, the two friends stood by the windows, watching Darcie try to avoid Sarge’s big feet on the far side of the dance floor.
“She’s terrific, Zeke,” Quince said. “A real natural with people.”
“Glad you approve. But you are not going to use her for any sort of publicity. Understand?”
“She would be terrific, especially— Okay, okay.” Quince raised his hands in surrender. “At least she’ll keep you busy enough so I won’t have quite as many products to promote. That’ll make me her biggest fan.”
“Get in line.”
The music stopped. Darcie exchanged a few words with Sarge, then turned toward Zeke. Before he could start across the dance floor, though, Josh Kincannon approached her. When the band struck up a song, Kincannon swept her into a dance.
“Let’s make the announcements now, Quince,” Zeke said.
“Kind of early, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Quince scanned the dance floor, then grinned. “Zeke, you do know that’s not an issue, don’t you.”
“Yeah.” He liked the high school principal. Liked him a lot. He just didn’t like seeing him with his arms around Darcie. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been that wild about seeing Quince with his arms around her.
“Okay. Announcement time it is.”
Quince led the way around the edge of the dance floor to the bandstand. Zeke saw Darcie tracking him, and his blood sped up.
After Quince had a word with the band, they segued into a flourish, then fell silent.
Quince stepped forward with his usual ease, introducing himself, apologizing for interrupting the dance. He gestured for Zeke.
Zeke usually hated moments like this, giving speeches or talking to groups. He looked at Darcie, her eyes wide with questions, but no doubts. Then to his mother, and on to other people he knew. Friends, he realized. He looked back to Darcie, and the words came.
“Most of you know I grew up here. A few of you know that that process continued just these past three weeks.” That drew chuckles. “Part of growing up is learning to change my mind when I’ve made a bad decision first time around. Josh, I’m changing my mind. Zeke-Tech will fund the program you outlined to me in my mother’s kitchen a couple weeks ago, the program to give more of Drago’s students and citizens computer training and access.”
A grin creased Kincannon’s face as he stepped forward to shake Zeke’s hand.
“Quince here will get you started with the details,” Zeke told him, passing the delighted high school principal on to his friend.
That left Zeke free to concentrate on Darcie, whose whole being seemed to beam at him.
After an immediate hush, the audience was applauding and whooping.
“One more thing.” Zeke’s words quieted the crowd. He never took his eyes from Darcie. He reached out a hand to her, when she took it, he drew her to him at the same time he held out the envelope. “I also have something for Darcie—”
“A ring!” gasped a voice from the middle of the crowd.
He looked around. A ring? He’d never considered a ring. Would Darcie be disappointed he wasn’t giving her a ring?
He couldn’t see her expression because her gaze had dropped to the envelope he still held.
“What is it?” she demanded.
He breathed again. She was curious, not disappointed.
“It’s an invitation to be interviewed by one of the assistant directors of the FBI and to take the entry test. That’s a formality—you’ll definitely pass. There’d be training at Quantico—that’s not far from where I am—and there’s a good chance you’d be assigned to the area afterward.”
He opened the envelope and handed her the official letter. She looked down, apparently reading it word for word.
From absolute silence, murmurs rose from the crowd. Subtle at first, then a few loud enough to make out the words. “Don’t go, Darcie!” “We need you here, Darcie!” “What’s the FBI got that we don’t?” A few people tried to quiet the discontented sentiments—he caught murmurs about wanting the best for Darcie after all she’d done for Drago—but the unrest grew.
And all the time, he had no idea what Darcie thought. He had no way to read her reaction…until a tear hit the left margin of the letter and bled into the type.
He felt as if he should be bleeding, too—it was that kind of pain.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because….” It wobbled and she swallowed before she continued. “Because you did this for me.”
He waited, his heart pounding against his chest like an angry fist on a door. Whatever followed next would tell him a lot, maybe everything. If it started with And, it would be good news, right? If But was the next word from her, though, then…he didn’t know what then.
She didn’t say And, she didn’t say But. She pivoted away from him and sprinted along the edge of the room to the doors, disappearing before he thought to move.
The next thing he knew, his mother had his arm in a death grip, dragging him down so she could say directly in his ear.
“Go after her, Anton. Do not let our Darcie go away.”
He found her trying to fit her key into her car door.
“I wasn’t going to drive,” she told him between gulps of sobs. “It’s dangerous to drive when you’re—” another sob hit her “—crying.”
“I’ll drive. Anywhere you want to go.”
“Home.”
At her apartment, he kept one arm around her as they climbed the stairs, then he led her to the couch, where he pulled her against his chest.
After a while, he took her shoulders and held her back from him until their eyes met. “You’ve got to tell me why you’re crying, Darcie.”
“Because you were thinking I’d be in Quantico and that’s close to where you live.” She pulled in a breath. Her chin wobbled. “Because I can’t take this, Zeke. The FBI was a dream, the dream of a girl I no longer am.”
She opened her hand and the crushed letter dropped onto her lap. Neither of them touched it.
“You’ve got to know you can do this. You’ll be great in the FBI, you’d—”
“I already am great—at what I want to be doing, and where I want to be doing it. I’m sorry, Zeke. I’ve spent a long time being a coward and dishonest with myself—blaming circumstances and life and my mother for choices that I made. Hedging my bets, so anything that didn’t turn out, any disappointments, I could say, Hey, it’s not my fault. I wanted to leave and I’m only here because of—fill in the blank.
And I misled you, letting you believe that’s how it was, too. Because it’s not true. I made the choices. I’ve stayed because I want to. Because this is the life I want, and this is where I want to live it. I love this town.”
“Darcie—”
“I know, Zeke, I know.” Her tears dripped down her cheeks, off her jaw. His arms tightened around her. “I know you wanted to give me a wonderful gift, but it’s the one thing I don’t want—a ticket out of Drago.”
“We could be together in Virginia. We could make a life…”
She cried harder. His words stopped.
Because Zeke had given her so much. He’d helped her find her answers. He’d helped her know where she belonged. He’d even helped her town—their town—despite his very best efforts to resist it. And now she couldn’t take the one thing he wanted to give her.
He held her for a long time, her head tucked under his chin, his hands stroking and soothing. Her crying ending, but still they sat like that.
“Do you want me to leave, Darcie?”
“No.” She took his hand, stood and led him to her bed. “I love you, Zeke.”
“Darcie.” He closed his eyes, pain and pleasure drawing his face. “You know nothing has changed…”
He was telling her that loving him, that making love with him now would not keep him here. Because he couldn’t give her the one thing she did want. Him, without the past constantly driving him.
Sixteen years ago, she had taken a chance because she thought it would be her only opportunity to love Zeke. Now she took a chance because she feared it would be her last opportunity to be loved by Zeke. Because he was wrong when he said nothing had changed—everything had changed.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
What Are Friends For? Page 20