Along Came Trouble

by Sherryl Woods

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted, choking back another hysterical sob. “I should have had a plan, but I didn’t. It took everything in me to rehearse telling Larry that I wanted a divorce. That was as far ahead as I could think.”

  Tucker moved her hand aside and dabbed at the tears with his handkerchief. “Then you’ll make a plan now. You have all the options in the world,” he said, as he concentrated on putting first-aid cream on her burned fingertips. “You can do whatever you want. You can travel. You can get a job. You can marry again, have the children you always wanted. It’s up to you.”

  “I can barely think ahead to tomorrow,” she said, though an image of toddlers underfoot crept into her head and wouldn’t leave. They all looked exactly like the man seated across from her. For so long, with Larry’s insistence on putting off a family, she hadn’t allowed herself to think of children at all. She sighed heavily.

  Tucker gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay. Right now all you have to do is think ahead to the next minute or the next hour. Tomorrow will take care of itself. So will the day after, and the day after that.”

  “When did you get to be so wise?” she asked, studying his face. Before she could stop herself, she reached out to trace the lines fanning away from the corners of his eyes. “The wisdom shows right here.”

  He chuckled. “I thought that was old age creeping up on me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Liz said fiercely. “You’re not old. Neither am I, though right at this very moment I feel ancient.”

  Tucker captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Darlin’, if you’re what ancient looks like, people would stop carrying on about staying forever young.”

  She managed a wan smile. “You’re still good for me, Tucker. I don’t think anybody else could have made me laugh today.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular comedian,” he said, getting to his feet and putting the first-aid kit away. “Let me make that tea you promised me and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  She sighed as he moved away, wishing that he hadn’t broken the spell, knowing it was best that he had.

  When he returned to the table, he had two tall glasses of iced tea. As she took a sip of hers, she realized he’d already sweetened it just the way she liked it.

  “How’s your hand feel?” he asked. “Any blisters?”

  She examined the reddened tips of her fingers but saw no sign of blisters forming. “I think I’ll live.”

  “Never any question about that,” he said. His gaze locked with hers. “You’re a survivor, Mary Elizabeth. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Whenever he said her name—Mary Elizabeth—in that lazy, honeyed tone, she felt as if she were thirteen years old again and first realizing that she was falling in love with the boy who’d been her best friend. Larry had been the first person to call her “Liz” and the name had stuck with their circle of friends in Richmond. She’d been glad that Larry had used the shorter nickname, because in her head she’d been able to remember the way her name had sounded on Tucker’s lips.

  She was even happier that Tucker hadn’t adopted the nickname since her return. It would have seemed symbolic of the distance between them. Now, whenever he drew her name out with slow deliberation, she felt as if he might be accepting her back into his life. Maybe not in the same intimate role she’d once played, but at least as his friend.

  And one thing she’d come to realize over the last six years was that being Tucker Spencer’s friend meant more to her than any other relationship in her life. Maybe they could never have more, but she wanted to earn his trust and respect again.

  After that…well, time would tell.

  King was still seething over the public spectacle Tucker had made of himself the day before by hanging around that blasted Chandler woman after the funeral. It had taken every ounce of will he possessed to make himself brave the likely gossip that would be running rampant at Earlene’s this morning.

  But a Spencer never let a little idle talk make him turn tail and hide. He’d taught his children that, and Lord knew they had put it to the test often enough. King walked into the riverfront restaurant and headed straight for his usual table in the back. Along the way, he spotted Frances sitting all alone in a booth pushing scrambled eggs around on her plate, her gaze distracted.

  He was annoyed as the dickens at the woman, but he couldn’t very well ignore her. He waved at Pete in the back, then slid into the booth across from Frances. She barely glanced at him before returning her gaze to something only she could see.

  “You okay?” he asked finally, after Earlene had poured his coffee, cast a worried look at Frances, then shrugged and left.

  With a heavy sigh, Frances turned back and met his gaze. “Does it matter?”

  “Dammit all, woman, of course it matters,” he retorted, then realized that he’d said it loudly enough to draw stares. “Sorry,” he apologized to Frances. “But you surely know that I care what’s going on with you.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Didn’t I just ask you…” His voice trailed off as he realized that he never had gotten around to asking her to marry him the way he’d intended to the other night. All that commotion at the marina with Tucker and Mary Elizabeth had pushed any thought of a proposal right out of his head. And after that, he’d been too irritated by Frances’s protectiveness toward Mary Elizabeth to schedule another private dinner when he could pop the question.

  “Ask me what?”

  Well, he certainly wasn’t going to ask her here and now with all those people looking on and the ring he’d bought back home in his pants pocket. “Nothing.”

  She sighed again, and her gaze drifted back toward the window.

  “What the devil’s so fascinating out there?” he demanded irritably.

  “Nothing,” she murmured, but she didn’t look back.

  “But even nothing’s better than looking at me?” he asked.

  She did face him then, her jaw set. “Sometimes, yes.”

  Obviously he needed to do something to make things right. “It’s Tuesday, you know.”

  She blinked and stared. “I suppose it is. Is that important for some reason?”

  “You usually like to go over to Colonial Beach for bingo on Tuesday. Do you want to go tonight?”

  “I was planning to,” she said. “There’s no need for you to come along.”

  “Frances, I am asking if you would like to go to bingo with me tonight.” He had to fight to keep an edge of impatience out of his voice. Why did she have to go and make this so blasted difficult?

  A clearly reluctant smile tugged at the corners of lips. “Such a gracious invitation,” she murmured. “How could I possibly refuse?”

  He regarded her warily. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, old man, I’ll go with you. Thank you for asking.”

  “All right, then. And while we’re at it, will you plan on having Sunday dinner out at Cedar Hill this week?”

  She seemed startled by that. “You haven’t asked in a while.”

  “And now I have,” he said. “Well?”

  “I don’t think I will ever in a million years understand you, King Spencer.”

  He chuckled at the plaintive note in her voice. “Keeps things lively, don’t you think?”

  “That is not the word I would use,” she retorted. “I have to be going to work.” She slid out of the booth and stood, then hesitated. Her gaze met his, and her stern look softened ever so slightly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “I’ll look forward to it, Frances.”

  She leaned down, and for an instant King thought she was going to kiss him right there in public, but, instead, she whispered in his ear, “If you stand me up again, you old coot, it will be for the last time.”

  He bit back a laugh, because he could tell by the fire in her eyes that she was dead serious. Damn, but the woman was a pistol. Always had been. A man would be a fool to take a chance on losing that kind of
fire and passion at this stage in his life, and one thing King prided himself on was not being a fool. He was going to seal this deal with Frances tonight. In fact he had an idea that was going to turn this proposal into something she wasn’t likely to forget.

  He was still sitting there plotting when Anna-Louise slid into the booth opposite him.

  “What are you up to?” she asked, inspecting him suspiciously.

  “Nothing I’m likely to tell you about,” he retorted. Speaking of pistols, the preacher was as fiery as any woman he’d ever met. He thoroughly enjoyed butting heads with her—not that he ever intended to let her know it. Now he studied her expression and thought he detected something a little sad about her. What the devil was going on with the women around here this morning?

  “You okay?” he asked eventually.

  “Fine,” she said without her usual sparkle.

  “Anna-Louise, it is not proper for a parson to flat-out lie to a parishioner, especially me. You and I have been through a lot together. I think I know you well enough to listen if you’re having a problem.”

  “You? Listen?” she said with exaggerated shock.

  “I’m darned good at it, when called upon,” he insisted. “Now, talk—or I’ll recommend that the church elders send you on a vacation till your spirits are lifted.”

  “My spirits are just fine,” she said with a little more spunk. “I was just thinking about Liz Chandler.”

  King bit back an oath. “Does everybody in this town have to obsess over that woman?”

  “I am not obsessing over anybody. I’m just thinking about how quickly her life changed. None of us can count on tomorrow.”

  King had a hunch that Anna-Louise’s distress had less to do with Mary Elizabeth than it did with something she was regretting…or maybe wishing for. He never had understood why she and Richard hadn’t filled that house of theirs with babies.

  “Is this really about Mary Elizabeth?” he inquired. “Or are you having some regrets about something you’ve let slip away?”

  She stared at him in apparent shock. “I haven’t let anything slip away. Nobody understands the value of living each day to its fullest more than I do.”

  “Is that so? You and Richard planning on getting around to having a family one of these days? Neither of you is getting one bit younger.”

  “King Spencer, that is an incredibly personal question, even for you,” she said indignantly.

  “Maybe so,” he agreed. “But it’s a fair one. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, but if that is what’s on your mind, you should be talking it over with your husband.”

  Suddenly, to his absolute astonishment and dismay, her eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t,” she whispered. She drew in a deep breath and then the words came pouring out of her. “Richard flatly refuses to discuss it. All those years he was a foreign correspondent in those awful places left him absolutely convinced that he would never bring a child into such a world.”

  “The man’s an idiot,” King said fiercely. “I know I’ve said that before, because we’ve had our share of disagreements over the way he likes to poke his nose into everything around here, but I always thought he had at least half a brain. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve never heard such poppy-cock in all my life! This is Trinity Harbor, not some hellhole on the other side of the world. Can’t he tell the difference?”

  Anna-Louise swiped ineffectively at her tears, grinning at King at the same time. “I should have known you’d use this as one more excuse to disparage my husband.”

  “I’ll have a talk with him,” King said, ignoring her comment. “We’ll get this straightened out.”

  Dismay spread across her face. “King, you cannot talk to Richard about us having a baby.”

  “Why the devil can’t I?”

  “Because it’s my problem, not yours.”

  “I’m making it mine,” he said, ready to fix this just the way he had to fix everything else in this town. Besides, he thought of Anna-Louise as a daughter, even if she did annoy the daylights out of him from time to time. Come to think of it, maybe that was exactly why she did feel like family.

  “Don’t you dare!” she said as he slid out of the booth. “Where are you going?”

  “To find your husband.”

  “If you do, I swear I’ll use every bit of my influence to get your soul consigned to hell,” she said with what sounded like total sincerity.

  That stopped King in his tracks. He’d never heard her say such a thing before.

  “Sit,” she ordered.

  King sank back down with a sigh. “Okay, it’s your problem,” he conceded grudgingly. “How are you going to fix it?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “You could just do what women have been doing through all eternity,” he suggested, but even as he said it he knew that she’d never go for that solution.

  “King!”

  “I know. I know,” he said, backpeddling. “Be direct, then. Lay it on the line. Make him talk it out. If ever a woman was meant to be a mother, it’s you. As for Richard, he won’t be half bad as a father. The man has an honorable streak, I’ll admit that.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased that you noticed,” Anna-Louise said wryly. She reached across the table and patted his hand. “Thank you for listening. It really did help. I hadn’t let myself admit to anyone, least of all myself, how much this was weighing on me.”

  “Any time,” King told her. “Just don’t forget that I’m the one who gets to hear the news first when something comes of this.”

  “I imagine I’ll want to tell my husband first,” she teased. “But you’ll be second. I promise. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even consider naming you godfather.”

  “I’d be honored. And in this case, coming in second will do,” King told her. “But make it soon. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Who are you kidding? You’re going to live forever. You’re too ornery not to.”

  “I hope you’re right. I have big plans.”

  “Oh?”

  He winked at her. “I’m not talking.”

  A grin spread across her face. “I’ll bet I know. I saw Frances leaving here earlier.”

  He laughed. “Come to think of it, you might, but keep it to yourself. She probably ought to know about this before the rest of the world finds out.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “A surefire one,” he said.

  “Then I’ll pray it works out,” Anna-Louise promised.

  “You concentrate on your own plan,” he advised. “I’ve got this one under control, and I don’t want His attention diverted from you.”

  “Oh, I think He can keep an eye out for both of us,” she assured him. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  “Then throw in a prayer for Tucker while you’re at it,” King requested. “That boy can surely use all the divine help he can get, especially since I’ve got other fish to fry today.”

  “Done,” Anna-Louise said. “Good luck.”

  “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. Confidence, that’s the ticket. Keep that in mind.”

  She laughed. “I surely will. In fact, I think I’ll go track down my husband right now.”

  11

  Liz was sitting on the deck with her second cup of coffee trying to work up the energy to tackle the cleaning she intended to do when Frances came around the side of the house.

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, but I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay all alone out here.” She glanced around. “You are alone, aren’t you?”

  Liz chuckled at her worried expression. “Tucker’s not hiding in the bushes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I was thinking more about him strolling out here half-dressed,” Frances retorted, then blushed. “Sorry. I have no right to say such a thing, but you two do seem to be getting close again. I suppose it’s just wishful thinking on my part. You made such a lovely couple once.”


  Liz wasn’t ready to discuss her relationship with Tucker, even with someone who’d been as kind to her as Frances had. “Could it be that you have romance on your mind?” she asked. “How are you and King getting along?”

  “We’re going to bingo tonight,” Frances said without much enthusiasm.

  “I thought you loved bingo.”

  “I do, and the first time he asked me, I’ll admit I thought it was charming, since I knew it was about the last place on earth he wanted to be. Now, I just wish he’d get on with things.”

  Liz regarded her with surprise. King Spencer wouldn’t be her first choice for a woman as lovely as Frances, but there was no accounting for taste. And even though the man riled the daylights out of Liz lately with his harsh, judgmental attitude, she had once been able to see his good points. In fact, she had to acknowledge to herself, she had adored him.

  “Is this relationship more serious than I realized?” she asked Frances. “Do you want to marry him?”

  Frances’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Do I sound like an old fool?”

  “Absolutely not. The great thing about love is that it’s never too late to find it. At least that’s what I want to believe,” Liz said, regarding Frances sympathetically. “So what’s the problem with you and King?”

  “I wish I knew,” Frances said, her frustration evident. “We seem to be stuck in a rut. I tried to shake him up by changing my hairstyle and color, and by losing a few pounds, but all that did was make him grumpier than usual.”

  Liz considered the implications of that. Frances had done so much for her the last few days, she wanted to be able to return the favor…even if it did mean matching her up with a stubborn old coot.

  “Does King have any competition?” she asked.

  Frances looked shocked by the question. “Do you mean am I seeing anyone else?”

  “Exactly.”

  Frances’s expression turned thoughtful. “Well, there is Mr. Mayberry. He’s relatively new in town, and he has shown some interest in getting to know me, but I’ve been putting him off.”