“Hey, Whit. Haven’t seen you in here lately.” She filled his mug with hot coffee. Nothing gourmet about Barb’s brand—it was black and that was good enough for him.
“Haven’t had much time lately, Regina. Do you remember Maggie Lawson?”
“Can’t say I do. Should I?”
Maggie’s smile faded as Regina Ray sized her up. “Probably not. I was a few years behind Trevor in school.”
The waitress wore a suspicious expression. “Why are you visiting now? Did you hear the latest scandal and want to get in on the town gossip?”
Maggie frowned. “What scandal?”
“Never mind. Regina, can you give us a few minutes to look at the menu?” Trevor gave her a nod of dismissal and turned to the menu that hadn’t changed since he was in high school.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Maggie folded the edge of her paper menu.
“Usually am.” Trevor didn’t look up.
“I did hear about the scandal. My mom likes to talk. I just didn’t want to make a thing of it, and the waitress seems like she’s looking for more gossip,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry about Chris. I know you two were friends.”
He glanced up and found her eyes fixed on him. “Doesn’t bother me any. Chris and I sort of lost touch over the years. We don’t exactly run in the same circles anymore.”
“Come on, Whit. You, Chris, and Casey. You ran the school your senior year.” She rested her hands on the table. “All the girls loved you guys. I’m sure you still talk sometimes, right?”
Trevor didn’t want to talk about Chris. Or Evelyn. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Sorry,” Maggie said. “I don’t mean to pry. Just know if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
He nodded, but he was pretty sure there was no way he was going to talk to Maggie or anyone else about what was really troubling him.
“So tell me about you,” Trevor said, anxious to change the subject.
She leaned back in the booth. “Now that is a boring topic.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He noticed the freckles on Maggie’s nose. They were cute. How long had it been since he thought anything about anyone was cute?
“But since I know you’re not much for conversation, I’ll keep up my end.” She smirked at him. “I just moved to Denver last year. I work as a journalist for an environmental magazine. I’m like a hippie who happens to understand writing.” She took a sip of coffee.
He wondered if she was choking it down to humor him. She had to be used to the gourmet stuff in the city.
She focused on him. “You?”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I run the farm.”
“Still the same old Trevor.” She shook her head.
He frowned. “What’s that mean?”
The look on her face said she knew something he didn’t. “Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing, was it? And while he couldn’t pinpoint what she was getting at, there was something playful in her tone that made him curious. How long had it been since someone had flirted with him?
He’d perfected the fine art of keeping everyone at arm’s length. No one but Lilian had dared come closer in years.
Before he could say anything, she covered his hand with hers. “I think you’ve gotten better-looking.”
He held her gaze for a long moment.
She sighed. “It’s good to be home.”
The way she said it sparked something inside him. Something that had been lying dormant, and for the first time in ages, he wondered if this could be the second chance he’d been asking God to grant him.
Oddly, he didn’t feel altogether uncomfortable with that idea.
CHAPTER
9
THE BUNGALOW AT THE TOP OF THE HILL at Whitney Farms had an easy way of feeling comfortable to Evelyn. Probably more comfortable than it should’ve for as few hours as she’d been there.
A part of her felt like an intruder, especially given what she’d overheard that morning. Whit was only allowing her to stay because of his friendship with Chris, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Still, she’d returned to the white guesthouse to find a distinctly feminine selection of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower, and hanging on the faucet—a new loofah.
The whole place must have been recently cleaned and now smelled fresh, like cotton, masking the faint scent of bleach.
Evelyn reasoned that Lilian was probably responsible for the additions to the guesthouse. Who else would care to make it feel like a home?
She probably should’ve taken Trevor up on his offer to stay there the first time, but the whole situation seemed awkward, and she didn’t want Whit caught up in any of this. Especially since she knew he didn’t like her. Still, his cold shoulder was a welcome change from the paparazzi on her front lawn.
But Whit used to be one of Christopher’s best friends. If ever there was a conflict of interest, this was it. If she’d had any other choice, she would’ve taken it, but something had drawn her back to the cozy guesthouse in the middle of nowhere. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Her cell phone rang. She’d found it on the kitchen counter when she went back to her house, though a part of her wished she hadn’t. She didn’t much feel like talking to anyone.
She fished it from the bottom of her purse and saw it was a blocked number. Maybe Christopher had finally decided to call her?
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Brandt, this is Agent Marcus Todd. We spoke briefly yesterday.”
“I remember. I believe you need to speak to my lawyer, Agent Todd.”
“I’ve already spoken to him. We just need you to meet us at his office later this morning. We have to clarify a few things.”
“It’s Saturday.” Evelyn didn’t like this one bit.
The call waiting signal beeped. Casey. A little late, buddy.
“It’s important,” Agent Todd said.
“Just get the details to my lawyer and I’ll meet you there.”
“Great. Thanks.” He hung up.
Evelyn switched lines. “Casey, why is Agent Todd calling me? On a Saturday?”
Casey sighed. “I told him I would handle it. I think they’re trying to rattle you, honestly. Maybe they think you’ll get flustered and spill whatever you know.”
“That might work if I actually knew anything.” Evelyn walked out to the back porch and stared over the pastures, where three beautiful horses stood, looking peaceful, like all was right with the world. “When are we meeting?”
“In an hour?”
She sighed. “Great.” So much for peace and quiet.
Forty-five minutes later, Evelyn pulled into a parking spot across the street from Casey’s office, turned her car off, and forced herself to take three very deep breaths. She couldn’t afford to have even the threat of another panic attack when she met with the FBI. How guilty would that make her look?
She’d managed to pull herself together, dressing in a pair of dark jeans, a loose blouse, and a fitted blazer along with red heels, hair in a low ponytail. Evelyn somehow looked presentable again, despite how she felt.
She got out of the car, smoothed her hair, and slung her purse over her shoulder. She’d grown accustomed to going places alone over the years, but in that moment, she wished for a friend to help her face whatever was coming in Casey’s office.
The brick building at the corner waited for her, and while everything within her wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, she started toward the corner, where she would cross the street and face her accusers.
As she trudged along, she passed two women, who both nearly stopped walking for all their staring. Neither of them spoke—not to her face—but as soon as she went by, she heard one of them mutter, “I don’t care what they say; that is the face of a guilty woman.”
Evelyn’s heart quickened and her cheeks flushed with fresh pain. She reached the end of the block and waited for the light to change so she could cross, keeping
her gaze focused ahead and doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone.
She spotted Trevor walking up the block toward Main Street, accompanied by a woman she didn’t recognize. In spite of this woman’s presence, Evelyn’s nervous heart stilled at the sight of Whit. He might be cold, but he wouldn’t be downright mean. She stepped toward the curb, eager for even the appearance of a friend. The light changed to green and she crossed the street.
“Evie? You okay? You look upset.”
She glanced at him, then at the woman by his side. Could they be together? She didn’t realize he was seeing anyone—not that it was her business—but she could hardly ask him to leave his girlfriend and join her for a meeting with the FBI.
Trevor’s words rushed back. He wasn’t a part of her world for a reason. Maybe she should get it out of her head that he ever would be. No sense pining away for a friendship she’d destroyed years ago.
“I’m fine. I just needed to get out for a bit.”
His brows drew together, but before he could question her, Agent Todd walked up behind him.
“Mrs. Brandt. Good to see you made it.”
“Agent Todd.” Evelyn stared at the ground as he and his dragon lady partner passed by, walking toward Casey’s building.
Agent Todd stopped and faced her. “Don’t be too long, okay?”
Evelyn nodded, avoiding Whit’s scowl.
Once the FBI agents had cleared the walkway, she took a few steps toward the door. “Good to see you, Whit.” She disappeared inside the building, praying for strength to handle this meeting on her own and desperately wishing she didn’t have to.
On the sidewalk, Maggie wore an inquisitive expression. “Is she okay?”
Trevor took his ball cap off and raked a hand through his hair. “I doubt it.” He turned in a circle like an animal in a cage, unsure which way was out.
“You seem upset, Trevor. If you need to go—” Maggie stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
“No, I don’t need to go. I just feel like maybe I should.” He faced her. “She doesn’t really have anyone else right now and we’re old friends.”
Liar.
Maggie’s brows rose. “Jules always seemed to think you wished you two were more than just friends.”
Those days were short-lived. Chris had seen to it. Sometimes he wondered if Evelyn even remembered it was Trevor she’d met first.
“Go see if she’s okay. Really.” Maggie smiled, sincerity in her expression. “She’s lucky to have such a good friend.”
Trevor knew it was wrong. He had no business butting in and no place in Casey’s office for this meeting. But how could he not? Whether he wanted to be or not, he was invested in this.
“Maybe we can get together tomorrow?” Trevor glanced at Maggie, who stood about a foot shorter than him. She was different from other women somehow. Not so serious. She seemed . . . fun. And for the first time in years, he was intrigued to find out more.
The memory of Rachel’s face the night he broke things off with her rushed back at him. It had been four years, but the way he’d felt causing her that kind of pain was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He didn’t want to risk hurting Maggie like he had Rachel, especially knowing that his feelings for Evelyn were more confusing than ever.
But that didn’t mean he and Maggie couldn’t be friends, did it?
“That’d be great,” she said. “Can I see your phone?”
He pulled his cell from his pocket and handed it to her. She clicked around on it for a few seconds before giving it back to him. “Now you’ve got my number and no excuse not to use it.”
She’d typed in Maggie the Magnificent, along with her phone number. He laughed. “That’s bold.”
“But true.” She smirked. “Text me when you want to grab coffee tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
Maggie walked toward the center of Old Town, leaving Trevor standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a dopey look on his face and feeling more confused than ever. Evelyn was being interrogated one level above where he stood, and he’d just reconnected with a pretty amazing girl he probably never even noticed in high school.
The world had a weird way of keeping him on his toes.
Before he could enter Casey’s building, a pack of three women bounded toward him, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Trevor Whitney, as we live and breathe. We hardly ever see you in town.” Doris Taylor, one of his mother’s oldest friends, fluttered her eyelashes in his direction.
“Morning, ladies.”
“Who’s the redhead?” Ursula Pembrooke. Old. Rich. Cranky. Like the wild-haired lady on all the Hallmark cards. Her voice sounded like someone who’d spent a hundred years smoking—gravelly and rough—but he had it on good authority she’d sounded like that in grade school.
“A friend, Mrs. Pembrooke.”
“Awfully pretty friend, Mr. Whitney,” Gigi Monroe said. He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like she sighed a little when she said it.
“Ladies, I know all about your matchmaking, and believe me, I am doing just fine.”
Gigi took a step and planted herself directly in front of him. “Listen, Mr. Whitney,” she said, her voice and face stern. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we are more than matchmakers.”
Doris stepped up behind her, eyes fixed squarely on him. “That’s right, Trevor. We are do-gooders.”
Why did he feel like he was in trouble? He put his hands out in surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want to make sure you know I’m not looking for any help in the romance department.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Gigi sized him up. “So why aren’t you married?”
“Is something wrong with you?” Doris asked. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“Or gay?”
Gigi and Doris gasped at Ursula’s question.
“What?” Ursula practically grunted.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Trevor said. “I’m not sick.” He looked at Ursula. “Or gay.”
Three sets of eyes narrowed on him. “Well, then what?” Ursula said.
He drew in a deep breath. The third degree was not what he needed, especially about his love life. The women seemed to inch even closer, waiting for an answer.
Trevor took a step back. “Don’t you ladies have mail to answer? Or a festival to plan?”
“As a matter of fact, we do, but don’t change the subject,” Gigi said, giving him a bit of breathing room. “I can’t believe you haven’t been on our radar before now.”
“Me neither,” Trevor said halfheartedly. These women had matched or attempted to match just about everyone in town over the age of twenty. He didn’t know whether he should be grateful or offended they’d never thrown his name in the ring. Did they not think he was a suitable mate for any of Loves Park’s loneliest women?
“He is quite good-looking,” Doris said to the others before returning her attention to him. “I always told your mother to keep an eye on you.” She let out a slight whistle and shook her head. “The damage you could do with those chiseled cheekbones.”
“And he’s rugged,” Gigi said, as though he weren’t standing a foot away. “It’s obvious you work with your hands. I heard all about the woodwork and the furniture. The paper really should do a story on you.”
Trevor held his hands up as if that could silence them. “Ladies, please. I’m just a guy who runs a farm, and I can handle my own dating life.”
“You still haven’t told us what’s wrong with you,” Ursula said. “There must be something.”
Gigi studied him. “No, I think there’s more to our young Mr. Whitney than meets the eye.”
Why did he get the impression that once they set their sights, there was no escape?
Just then—as if by the grace of God—the door to Casey’s building opened and Evelyn walked out, pulling the ladies’ attention off of Trevor and onto her.
“Evelyn, what’s wrong? You
look upset.” They rushed to her, leaving Trevor feeling like the outsider when all he wanted to do was find out if she was okay.
Evelyn looked past the women, eyes locked on Trevor. “They think I’m hiding something. They think I know where Christopher hid the money.”
She quickly blinked back tears. Even though Evelyn had turned herself into the picture-perfect politician’s wife, Trevor knew her strength only ran so deep. But he remained unmoving. He wouldn’t get involved any further. If she needed a ride or a house, fine. If she needed moral support, well, she had three very supportive women all over her right now.
He stood by while the women fawned over Evelyn, hugging her and telling her things were going to be okay. Finally he glanced up, surprised to find her gaze on him again. Something silent passed between them then because they both knew that despite what these well-intentioned “do-gooders” said, everything was not going to be okay. Not for a very long while.
Trevor yanked his focus off Evelyn and fixed it on the passing traffic.
“Have you talked to Christopher? Is he implicating you?” Gigi asked her.
“He hasn’t called. I haven’t called. I don’t even know what I would say. Nothing about him is what he said.” Trevor noticed that Evelyn had gone utterly still, like she was unable to move.
“Maybe we should take you home,” Doris said. “You look like you might pass out.”
Evelyn shook her head. “I’m never going back there again.”
“Oh, my,” Doris said. “What will you do?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
She dared a glance in his direction, and what was he supposed to do? Turn her away? She couldn’t go home with one of these pick-a-little ladies—she’d never have a moment of peace. She needed to be on the farm and they both knew it.
Trevor drew in a deep breath. “Evelyn’s going to stay out at the farm for a while,” he said.
The older women turned as one and faced him. “That will hardly do,” Gigi said. “The press is all over this story. If they find out she’s living with a single man in the middle of nowhere, what will they say?”
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