Belonging

by Samantha James

  Angie was too busy gritting her teeth to think of a snappy comeback. Maybe he was right, she thought with vexation, staring at the closed door a moment later. Maybe she should have taken on the job of police chief.

  She had the feeling Matthew Richardson wasn't going to make life any easier for her; in fact, he had a rather unpleasant effect on her. It reminded her of a pill stuck in her throat—necessary, but not very easy to swallow.

  ***

  It wasn't the best way to begin a working relationship, but Angie had little time to think of Matt Richardson during the next few days. There were the usual day-to-day meetings and activities, a luncheon address at the Women's Civic Club on Wednesday, the dedication of the new wing of the children's section at the city library.

  Most people would have said that serving as mayor wouldn't leave much room for a personal life, but Angie was very careful to squeeze the most mileage out of her workday. Over the past three years she had learned to stand on her own two feet. As a widow with two young daughters she'd had no other choice. From the time she had started working outside the home, she did her best to keep her career separate from her home life. Granted, there were a few times when she was up doing paperwork at midnight, long after Kim and Casey had been tucked into bed for the night. And occasionally her presence was required for an evening appearance, but she tried her best to keep them to a minimum, and for the most part she succeeded.

  But this particular Friday was not one to be sidestepped, as she soon discovered.

  It was just past one when Georgia opened the door and came in, carrying a cup of tea and a sandwich. Angie's assistant was in her forties and just this side of plump. The half lenses she wore would have given her a studious look if she didn't perpetually have them arched precariously on top of her head. They were rarely in place at the end of her nose where they should have been. Angie often thought with amusement that the glasses served a better purpose keeping Georgia's wiry brown hair off her forehead.

  "Eat," the woman grunted in her familiar gritty voice. She set the plate on the desktop, then remained where she was, her arms crossed over her ample breasts, eyebrows raised threateningly.

  Angie hid a smile and pushed aside the cumbersome budget printout she'd spent the morning poring over. The age difference between herself and Georgia wasn't all that much, yet the older woman treated her with a gruff but motherly concern.

  As usual, Georgia's clothes were a mess. The sleeves of her blouse were rumpled from repeatedly being thrust above her elbows. There was a run in her nylons, and the toes of her shoes were scuffed and worn.

  Angie loved her dearly. Despite her haphazard appearance, she was sharp as a tack. Managing the office and keeping track of all the mayoral concerns was no small task, but Georgia pulled it off without a hitch. In Angie's eyes she was invaluable. More, she was a friend.

  When the last bite of sandwich had been eaten, the last drop of tea drained from the cup, Georgia's ominous expression softened. "That's better," she said briskly. In a rare moment of relaxation, Georgia sat down in the comfortable leather chair. "At least I don't have to worry about you eating tonight. Not with the spread they'll have at the Sheraton."

  Angie was used to Georgia clucking over her like a mother hen. She'd even gotten rather good at tuning in what was important and tuning out what wasn't. "Now, Georgia," she began, "you know I always make sure the girls and I eat a good dinner—" Suddenly she stopped short as Georgia's words finally penetrated. "The Sheraton?" she echoed, then frowned. "What's going on at the Sheraton?"

  Georgia's eyes contained a measure of surprise. Slip-ups by Angie were few and far between. "Don't tell me you forgot. There's a big bash tonight at the Sheraton. In honor of our new police chief."

  This last piece of information was added with a sidelong glance at Angie. Though the public saw the image of a beautiful but successful and hardworking individual, Georgia knew the woman beneath the elegant exterior, the woman of integrity and very real emotions. Once, those feelings had been clearly visible. Now, though they were still there and thriving, they were much more insulated, far less exposed. Life had taught her well, Georgia sometimes reflected, a little too well.

  The two women had been through a lot together. She'd seen Angie grow in strength, self-confidence and esteem. She had witnessed the private torment she had undergone when she lost her husband, a torment that Georgia somehow suspected wasn't solely due to grief.

  But even Georgia didn't know everything about Angie.

  She had started to work for Angie almost four years ago when Angie had joined the investment firm Georgia was with. Though she was in her late twenties, it was Angie's first real bout at tackling the career she'd spent years preparing for. Georgia had thought it was a shame that a woman with Angie's abilities had been sitting at home with a husband and two children since shortly after college. She and Angie had taken to each other like ivy to an oak tree, and Georgia sometimes reflected that perhaps it was because she could see a part of herself in Angie.

  No two women could have been more different in physical appearance, but they were, in fact, alike in a number of other ways. Neither one found it very easy to display her inner feelings, though Georgia admitted her own were a little more volatile and vocal. And like Angie, she, too, had cherished hopes and dreams and aspirations. Unlike Angie, Georgia hadn't had the education to build those dreams, and as the years passed, they faded. These days they surfaced only seldom.

  Neither one had the support of a husband. Georgia had never even had a husband. As for Angie... well, Georgia sometimes thought she'd have been better off without him.

  Oh, Angie had never said so in so many words, but Georgia had known. She'd recognized the signs, but even if she hadn't, her intuition would have told her. There had been days when Angie's smile had been too bright, her laughter a little too forced. As her career had taken off and thrived, the situation at home had disintegrated.

  It was, Georgia had long ago decided, the reason Angie was so determined to keep her professional life separate from her home life. Mayor Angela Hall was a far cry from mother Angie Hall. Even Georgia wondered how Angie managed to balance both career and home.

  Secrets of the heart? Yes, Angie had a few. But Georgia, like Angie, had learned her own lesson from life and knew when not to pry.

  After all this time she also knew what she could get away with and what she couldn't. She'd seen the furious glint in her boss's eyes after her meeting with the new police chief the other day. She'd also heard a few drawers being rattled and slammed. She'd held her peace until today, though.

  "Don't see how you could forget about tonight," Georgia commented. Getting up, she pulled a cloth from Angie's bottom drawer and began to idly swipe at the desktop. "Not when it's in honor of our illustrious new police chief," she continued. A rare smile lit her face. "Now there's a man not many women could forget."

  Angie darted her a sharp look. It wasn't so much a matter of forgetting as simply not wanting to remember. Instead of replying to Georgia's statement she asked, "Since when have you started taking inventory of every man who walks in and out of this office?"

  "I'd do it a little more if they all looked like him," Georgia told her brashly. "To tell you the truth, if I were twenty years younger . . ."

  Angie snorted. Matt Richardson might be passably good-looking...well, perhaps more than passable. There were probably some women who would find his roughly hewn features quite compelling. But Georgia? Angie had never known her assistant to look twice at any man since she'd known her.

  "Who are you trying to kid!" she exclaimed. "Why, you're no more interested in having a man in your life than I am."

  Georgia's grin faded, and her hand stilled for a second. "Maybe you should be. When you get to be my age, things start looking pretty lonely," she said slowly. She stood in front of Angie, her arms akimbo on her hips. "Maybe you should be," she repeated.

  Angie said the first thing that popped into her mind. "If I did ever
want a man in my life again, it wouldn't be Matthew Richardson!"

  This time it was Georgia's turn to snort. "Who, then? That smart-aleck Todd Austin who's always sniffing around your heels?" The way she rolled her eyes heavenward expressed her feelings more clearly than words.

  Angie sighed. Todd Austin was the Westridge city manager. She'd met him shortly before Evan's death when she had served as a member of the district school board, and it had been at Todd's urging that she had decided to run for city council a year later. Since that time Todd had accompanied her to various official functions, and she'd always appreciated that Todd respected her for her intellect. Of late, however, he'd made it clear he would like to deepen their relationship, a desire she didn't share.

  Her body cramped from the long hours in her chair, she got up and stretched, then walked to the window nearby. She stood for a moment, looking down at the deep pink rhododendrons and leafy foliage that edged the sidewalk.

  "Todd and I are friends," she said after a brief pause. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of Georgia and Todd. From the first they had taken to each other like oil and water. "No more, no less," she told her assistant firmly. "Just friends. And as for our new police chief, I'm much more interested in the way he does his job than the way he looks."

  Georgia said nothing. Glancing over her shoulder, Angie saw that Georgia's thin lips were tightly compressed as she began collecting the cup and plate and loading them onto the small tray.

  Angie turned around. "Are you coming tonight?" she asked softly.

  "No."

  She sighed. She hadn't expected Georgia to say yes. As the older woman always put it, she preferred to leave the "woman of the hour" and social duties totally in Angie's hands. Angie didn't really mind since Georgia was so dependable in other ways. But the last thing she wanted was a rift between herself and her assistant, no matter how small. Especially one sparked by the new chief of police.

  "You're going to let me face the hungry masses all alone?" she chided gently.

  This earned a reluctant smile. Georgia turned to face her, tray in hand. "You, Mayor Hall, can handle just about anything."

  Angie laughed, relieved to note the familiar sparkle was back in Georgia's eyes. "With one hand tied behind my back?"

  "Not quite," Georgia retorted airily. "Even you need a helping hand once in a while." Turning, she began to leave.

  Angie couldn't resist calling after her, "What would I do without you, Georgia?"

  She heard a crackling laugh from the outer office. "Starve," came the muffled response a second later. Angie smiled and shook her head. She could tell Georgia was once again buried in her work. Her assistant could talk all she wanted. She had no more room in her life for a man than Angie did.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Georgia wasn't the only woman who had seen Angie through a drastic period of change in her life. Janice Crawford had known Angie for nearly eight years. When they had first become neighbors, Angie was in her sixth month of carrying Kim, and Janice had just delivered a daughter. Janice was the one Angie had always come to when she wanted to borrow a cup of sugar, or when she simply wanted to talk.

  But Angie hadn't done much talking the last year of her marriage. And as Janice sometimes told her husband, Bill, there was much that Angie held inside—too much. The Angie the Crawfords had first met hadn't been terribly outgoing, but her warmth and enthusiasm showed in the sparkle of her eyes. The woman they knew now was the same and yet somehow different. This Angie was much more protective of herself and her children.

  It was almost three o'clock when Janice walked into her kitchen to find Angie's slim figure just stepping through the back door.

  "Hi," she greeted her. "Take off early?"

  Angie nodded and stopped for a second. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

  Janice laughed as she saw her sag against the doorframe. "Tea?" she asked knowingly.

  "Sounds great." Angie opened her eyes and smiled at Janice. She dropped her purse on the bench in the breakfast nook. "Just let me say hi to the girls and I'll be right back."

  "They're in the yard," Janice called after her, running water into the teakettle. "Playing in the pool."

  Angie smiled as she stepped into the enclosed backyard. The small plastic pool had been upended and leaned against a tree, and the children had turned their attention to spraying each other with the hose instead.

  Four-year-old Casey was the first to spy her. "Mommy!" she squealed and ran over. She threw her arms around her mother's legs. When Angie bent down to hug her, she planted a wet kiss on her cheek before running off once more. Kim did the same, as well as Janice's daughter, Nancy.

  Sixteen-month-old Eric had apparently decided he'd had enough of the water and pandemonium. Eric had the same round face and dark hair as his mother. At the sight of a familiar, sympathetic adult face, his hands lifted in a pleading gesture, and he toddled toward her.

  "What! Are they drowning you?" Angie laughed. Lifting him onto her hip, she turned to go back into the house.

  "Oh, no!" Janice's eyes grew wide, and she rushed over to retrieve the baby. "He'll get you all wet!"

  Chuckling, she gave him back into his mother's care, unmindful of the wet spots on the cap-sleeved dress she wore. "Wash-and-wear has been around for some time now. It will dry, you know."

  After Janice had put Eric in dry clothes, she settled the baby in his high chair and sat down across from Angie. "All ready for the game tomorrow?" Janice laid a graham cracker in front of Eric, who wasted no time stuffing it into his mouth.

  Angie nodded, a smile touching her lips. Kim and Nancy had both joined a girls' summer softball league. Baseball was one of the few things that quiet Kim grew excited over, and it warmed Angie's heart to see her happy and eager again. Both she and Janice were coaches for the team, and like the girls they supervised, they brought a good deal of enthusiasm, if not know-how, to the team.

  But she shook her head at the thought of what would come before tomorrow. "What I'm not ready for," she mused aloud, "is tonight."

  Janice spooned a generous amount of sugar into her tea. "What's going on tonight?"

  "There's a dinner for the new police chief," Angie told her. "I'd rather sit through a dozen chamber of commerce luncheons, but I'm afraid if I didn't go, Blair Andrews would have a field day with it." At Janice's inquiring look, she explained how she'd been put on the spot, both at the press conference earlier in the week and later that same day when Matthew Richardson discovered he hadn't been her primary choice.

  When she had finished, Janice rested her chin on her hands, her brown eyes sparkling merrily. "Just think— a cop from the big city here in Westridge! It's like having Kojak in town or something!"

  "Kojak!" Against her will, Angie felt her lips twitch as she thought of Matt Richardson's dark good looks. Her mother had adored the series. As for possessing the suave, smooth manner of the TV detective... well, that remained to be seen. But Kojak had been a little on the tough side, too, she recalled. Maybe it wasn't such an inappropriate comparison after all.

  She turned her attention back to Janice. "Anyway," the other woman was saying, "I can't believe you'd rather stay home than go to a party—"

  "Party?" Angie recalled the brief encounter she'd had with Matthew Richardson earlier in the week. If it wasn't for the fact that dozens of other people would be present, she might even consider the dinner something of an ordeal. "I can guarantee this isn't going to be 'Some Enchanted Evening,'" she told Janice with a slight smile. "All anyone does at these functions is talk shop."

  "Then make something happen! With all the local big shots in attendance, I can't think of a better place to snag a rich husband!" The words were delivered with Janice's usual zeal. Her short dark curls danced as she bobbed her head emphatically. Janice was very open and honest, unafraid to show her feelings.

  Angie's eyes grew wistful. She had once been like Janice, though perhaps never quite so buoyant. But that had been a long tim
e ago.

  "You know I don't need the money, Jan," she said with a shake of her head. She had made some excellent investments during the past few years, and she was thankful that she had no financial worries. But there was a time, and not so long ago, when money had been both a curse and a blessing. "As for finding a husband—" her laugh was forced "—I'll leave that to someone else." Rising, she busied herself with pouring another cup of tea.

  She knew by the small silence that followed that she hadn't fooled Janice. She heard the click of the high chair as Janice lifted Eric out and set him on his feet. A second later she heard the screen door slam behind Janice as she took the baby out to his sister.

  Angie was still standing motionless at the counter when Janice returned. "Evan really did a number on you, didn't he?'' she asked softly.

  Angie closed her eyes. Her ten-year marriage to Evan—one that had started with endless days of sunshine—had ended in shadows. Through a will born of desperation and a very real need to save her own sanity, she had spent the first year after his death trying to forget. Even now, when she could remember without all the old bitterness and hurt creeping through her, the good memories were tainted by the bad. Evan had killed their love as surely as he himself was dead.

  For just a moment the tea bag hung limply suspended from Angie's hand. It was the only sign that Janice's words had disturbed her as her mind traveled fleetingly backward.

  It was four years earlier that Angie's life had undergone a radical change. She had exchanged her role as full-time wife and mother for that of full-time career woman, a move that had initially been made solely for financial reasons.

  Evan had been employed by one of the local banks since his graduation from college. Over the years he had worked his way up to vice president. But shortly after Casey had been born, the bank had been declared insolvent and he had lost his job. For a man who thrived on success, it had been a deep blow—a very deep blow indeed.