Mitch stood. "And the cycle goes on."
***
Monday evening Laura came home from the store, damp from the pouring rain she'd run through, but excited and bubbling with an idea she knew would work. It would be her way of gaining her dad's approval, upping profits, and showing Mitch she could manage along with the best of them.
His taciturn comment had ended a conversation that had given her insight into his character. She'd felt close to him for the first time since coming to York. And with all her heart, she hoped he didn't regret anything he'd shared. He was so afraid to open up. He might not admit it, but he wanted to be loved as much as anyone she knew--maybe more.
She didn't know exactly why, maybe it was his father's doing, but Mitch's childhood had clouded his emotions and when they became clear, he pushed them away. Yet he had great insight into himself. He had substance and honesty. And their talk had filled her with... Hope? For what? That they could work together while she was here? Something more? Fat chance, Laura Sanders. You have a life in Independence. Mitch as much as said he'd never leave this area. Besides, she couldn't live in York. Once he recovered, her father might try to control her life. Again.
After she hung her poncho in the foyer closet, she dropped the folder with the material she'd worked on all afternoon on her father's desk in the study and went in search of Mandy and Nora, looking for Puffball as she went through the house. Where Puffball was, Mandy couldn't be far behind.
Laura wondered if Mitch was home. He'd gone to Harrisburg yesterday to ready the store for Christmas. So he said. Maybe Nora knew what time he planned to return.
Laura found Mandy and Nora playing a card game with Ray. He was looking more comfortable today, more sure of himself. He waved to Laura. "Your daughter's too good at this. She keeps winning."
Laura hugged Mandy and ruffled her hair. "Good for you." She addressed her dad. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been through a war and the other guy won."
Nora spoke up. "Now, Ray. You said each day you feel a little stronger. He's doing fine. The nurse is coming tomorrow to start him on some easy exercises. We took a walk around the house twice this morning before the rain started. You'd be proud of him."
"The doctor said I control my own destiny," Ray muttered. "So I'm going to do everything he tells me and get on with life. It's just rough going right now."
One thing Laura had always admired was her dad's determination. She cupped his shoulder in her palm. "You're doing terrific. Like you always told me, if you're persistent enough, you can do anything."
She thought his eyes were shiny when his rougher, calloused hand covered hers, and she felt as if she'd crossed a barrier between them.
Laura joined the card game and noticed a ring on Nora's finger. She remembered Mitch's words. "A cluster of rubies and pearls. When my father gambled it away, she cried and cried." He must have recreated it for her. He'd kept his promise.
Mitch arrived an hour later. His gaze connected with Laura's and she thought she saw an openness that hadn't been there before. Her worry that his sudden decision to go to Harrisburg to avoid her dissipated. After all, the Harrisburg store couldn't run without direction any more than the York one could. She also suspected he'd wanted to give her time with her father.
When Mitch followed Nora to the kitchen to discover what smelled so good, Laura waylaid him in the hallway. As always, being this close to him rattled her. His shirt was wrinkled. He'd tugged down his tie and opened the top button of his striped oxford; the curly black hairs invited touching. She closed her fingers into her palms.
"Could we talk for a few minutes in Dad's study? I have something to discuss with you."
Mitch's eyes became opaque as he hesitated for a moment then motioned for her to lead. Their footsteps seemed loud on the wood floor as they walked down the hall.
Mitch waited for Laura to enter the room before him. She picked up the file folder on her father's desk, suddenly nervous. Taking a deep breath, she plowed in. "Someone came into the store this morning who could be the answer to a prayer."
Mitch sat on a corner of the desk. "I didn't know we'd asked for an answer."
Okay, so it was an answer to her prayer. "He's an agent for a group of Navajo craftsmen in Arizona. He'd like us to promote their work. The samples were wonderful. The finest quality workmanship in silver, turquoise, coral, onyx. This is just what we need."
"A few samples of fine quality doesn't mean--"
She went on as if he hadn't spoken, too excited to stop. "He invited me to Flagstaff to see the craft village and examine all of it first hand. I could fly out with Mandy--"
That raised Mitch's brows. "With Mandy?"
"Sure. I wouldn't leave her here. We'd be gone three days tops."
Mitch came to his feet, defensive and wary. "You came to York for your father."
"This is for my father. This jewelry is the trend. It's beautiful and more affordable than gold. Think of all the new customers we'd bring in. The Southwest trend is catching like wildfire in the East. We might even want to introduce pottery, art work--"
"No!"
She retreated a step. "I beg your pardon."
Mitch's jaw set in a stern line. "I told you you could help with the store, not revamp it. I go away one day and your impulsiveness already runs riot."
Hanging onto her temper was a real problem around Mitch. She modulated her voice into calmness. "I'm the acting manager of the store in my father's absence. Correct?"
"Acting manager to maintain the status quo," he said evenly.
Indignation won over holding her fuse. "If I'm a manager, I'm going to manage. I'm not going to be a sales clerk or a pawn to do your bidding. I've seen the profit sheets. The York store's profits are down significantly. Do you know that? And if you don't, what kind of partner are you?"
Mitch paced to the bookshelves on the far side of the room. He picked up a duck decoy, put it down and faced her. "That store is Ray's domain. I have no right to interfere."
"It's not a matter of rights. He should know what's happening. Does he?"
Mitch jammed his hand into his pockets and looked troubled. "He thought with Christmas, it would turn around."
She approached him cautiously. "I saw last year's records. Christmas didn't make that much difference. Look, Mitch. I know my dad doesn't take an aggressive or innovative approach. But the jewelry business has changed in the last five years and he hasn't kept up with the changes."
"Don't you think I know that? But we have an agreement. I don't interfere with his store, he doesn't interfere with mine."
Intuitively she knew Mitch was a man of honor and when he made an agreement, he kept it. But there were times... "You're his partner."
"Ray doesn't like change."
"Of course he doesn't. But maybe if it's introduced step by step..." Her voice trailed off at Mitch's stubborn expression. "Maybe I should be talking to him about this."
The stubbornness turned into protectiveness. "We're not going to give him something else to worry about."
"Is that really your reasoning? Or are you afraid I'll show you up? That I'll succeed where you should have taken action before now?" She knew she was stabbing in the dark. But he couldn't dismiss her one means of making a difference in her dad's life.
"You're incredibly naive if you think in six weeks you can turn the store around."
"At least that's one of the kinder things you think of me," she said tersely.
"How do you know what I think of you?" His eyes were deep blue, probing, and they touched her as much as the hint of huskiness in his voice.
"I can see it and feel it. Just when I think we're coming to an understanding, you turn judgmental and condemning. You don't always say it, but I can see it in your eyes."
When he stepped toward her, his hands gently took hold of her shoulders. "What would you like to see?"
In that instant she knew she wanted him to like her, wanted whatever he could give in th
e time she stayed in York.
"I want to see acceptance. Open mindedness. You have too many preconceptions about me."
He dropped his hands and stepped away, as if aware how vulnerable they both were. His words put distance between them again. "I do have preconceptions. I got them from a good source--your father. When you were a teenager, you put him though hell. He didn't even know where you were half the time. Then when he thought his daughter had decided to grow up, she ran away with a painter and never contacted him."
She understood Mitch had seen her father's pain. But he knew nothing about her heartache, loneliness and fears. She had to do something to erase the devastating disapproval in his eyes. "I went through hell too. I was trying to get his attention. What did he tell you about? The day I hot-wired his car because he wouldn't give me permission to drive it? The night he had to bail me out of jail because a party I attended was raided?"
Mitch's expression told her he'd heard that one too.
"Maybe he told you I cut classes? My grades slipped? I found a boyfriend who wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle? I'm sure it was hell for him because it shook up his established, narrow world. There are two sides to every story, Mitch." She prayed he'd want to hear hers, yet she knew he might not choose to because her side might change his opinion of her father.
Mitch's low, quiet tone was slow but unwavering. "You could have contacted him in the last six years."
If she told him she had, he probably wouldn't believe her. His calmness incited a riot of emotions in her. "And he could have contacted me. You have a real propensity for seeing only what's in front of your nose. It's called tunnel vision."
"And you have a propensity for acting irresponsibly and recklessly. Ray doesn't need more headaches or worry about the store. I won't let you damage what he's spent his life building."
Her fingers strained around the folder with her notes until she almost bent it in half. "You're giving me more credit than I deserve. I can't damage much in six weeks."
"You could get a damn good start."
The hope that had sprouted inside her almost wilted. Almost. She never gave up without a fight. Slamming the folder with her ideas and plans for earning her dad's love into Mitch's hands, she said, "Try to keep your eyes open and your brain uncluttered by what a terrible person I am when you read that. If a trip to Arizona, an ad campaign, a website and a promotion that will bring new and younger customers into the store will damage the business, I want to know how."
She spun on her heels and slammed the door as she left her father's office.
***
After supper, Mitch went to Ray's study. He and Laura had been civil at supper but that was it. He leaned back in the leather chair and opened the folder. Why couldn't she live with the status quo? That had been her problem as a teenager too. Never satisfied. Always rebelling. At least that was what he'd been told. But in this last altercation she'd said something about getting her father's attention.
Mitch impatiently brushed the paper clip from the clump of papers. Of course, she'd had Ray's attention. She was his only child. Why wouldn't she have it?
Unless Ray hadn't been able to relate to an adolescent, a developing woman. Had he backed off? Did she read that as her father withdrawing his love?
Is that why she wanted to take over now? To get Ray's attention? Well, he'd be damned if he'd let her make a mess of Ray's store just to get his attention. She and Ray would have to work out their differences on some other front. If they could.
Mitch flicked open the folder impatiently, planning to give it a quick once over. But he got caught by the phrasing, the captions, the rough ideas for ads and a website. They were good, all of them. She must have worked like a dynamo all afternoon to get this done. The whole campaign was based on the principle that the sterling jewelry was unique, intricate, and affordable for all ages and everybody--sweethearts, sisters, mothers, fathers, brothers.
But a spur of the moment trip to Arizona? Now? He was studying the rate of supply when the study door flew open.
"We can't find Puffball!" Tears rolled down Mandy's cheeks. "Mommy called the cleaning lady and she let her out this afternoon." The child sniffled. "And it's raining and Puffball's gonna get wet!"
Mitch pushed the papers away, stood, and scooped Mandy into his arms. He felt at a loss, but he knew he had to do something to comfort her. He did what his mother had always done for him, hugged her close. "Cats aren't like people. They don't mind rain."
"But she's an inside cat. And we're not at home. She won't be able to find her way back."
Mitch knew nothing about cats, little about calming Mandy's fears. "Where's your mommy?"
Mandy hiccupped. "She said not to bother you. But she's gonna get all wet too!"
"She went out to look for Puffball?"
Mandy stuck her finger in her mouth and nodded.
Mitch strode to the kitchen and set Mandy on the counter. Nora was emptying the dishwasher. "I wanted to go out too, but Laura wouldn't let me. She's going to get soaked."
Mitch headed for the foyer closet and pulled out his trench coat. On his way out the sliding glass dining room doors, he said, "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right."
He didn't know if he was assuring himself or them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mitch saw the blink of a high-powered flashlight near the south corner of the yard. What would they do if they couldn't find the damn cat? How would they tell Mandy? Why hadn't Laura asked his help from the beginning? Did she think he wouldn't care? He'd do anything for that little girl.
He dodged through the pouring rain towards the light. When he reached Laura, she had pulled her wool hood over her head, but she was drenched.
"Give me the light and go inside. You're going to catch pneumonia."
Even in the shadows, he could see a sparkle of defiance in her eyes. "And you won't?"
Don't fight. Be practical, Riley. "Have you been working around the yard?"
She pushed aside branches of spirea to peer into the base of the hedge. "No. I've just been looking wherever a cat might hide. She knows her name, but she hasn't come."
He took Laura's arm as the rain dribbled through his lashes and down his face. "That only means she has more sense than we do. She might be dry in the crook of a tree--"
"That's it!" Laura popped up. "The tree house. Why didn't I think of that?"
He ran beside her in the rain, hoping the treehouse was the answer. When Laura tripped over a gnarled tree root, Mitch caught her against him. Suddenly he knew he'd gone to Harrisburg to escape being close to her, to avoid more sharing, more feeling. He wanted to kiss the rain from her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the peak of her lips, but when she regained her balance, he urged her forward.
They reached the treehouse and Laura thrust the flashlight at him so she could scramble up the ladder.
"Wait. You won't be able to see." He held the light so she wouldn't misstep and climbed up behind her. At the top he swung the bright streak around the small covered cubicle.
"There she is!" Laura stretched out her arms to the cat.
The animal looked much smaller and Mitch realized Puffball was as wet, if not wetter, than they were. She meowed sharply and hissed when Laura tried to grab her.
"She's going to fight. Wait a minute." Mitch set down the light and took off his trench coat.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to wrap her in it so we all get back in one piece. She still has her back claws."
"You'll ruin your clothes."
Of all times for Laura to pick to be practical. With quick, economical movements he wrapped the cat before she could dart away. "They'll dry. Let's get her back to Mandy."
Laura took the light and led the way. Nora and Mandy were waiting with towels in the kitchen. Ray looked on in wry amusement.
Mitch flipped his wet hair away from his forehead and unwrapped the cat on the floor. She was half of her normal size, her hair matted and flat
. Mandy ran to her, hugged her, and kissed the top of her wet head. The cat meowed twice as if thanking her mistress for her concern.
Laura stripped off her poncho and laid it over the counter. "I'm going to take her upstairs to the bathroom to dry her off."
Mitch's wet sleeves stuck to his upper arms. "I'll carry her up for you."
"Can I help?" Mandy asked.
Laura swept her damp hair back from her face. "You'd be more help if you get your nightgown on and spread a towel for her on your bed. I'm sure she'll want to snuggle after being out in the cold all night."
Mandy studied the drenched cat. "Okay. Maybe she can sleep under the covers with me."
Mandy scampered up the stairs in front of Laura and Mitch. Puffball hung limp in his hands and meowed.
Mitch crouched and settled Puffball on the bathroom rug. Laura's leg brushed his ear as she opened the vanity and removed a towel. "Sorry," she mumbled.
The bathroom was average size but confining with two adults and a cat, especially when the other adult was Laura. "Your slacks are wet," Mitch noted. "You ought to change."
She gazed at his trousers molded to his thighs. The look they exchanged was steamy and sexual. Neither was paying enough attention to Puffball. With a lurch, the cat zoomed for the door and darted down the hall. Mitch took off after her.
Puffball had reached the top of the staircase when Mitch swooped her up and tucked her under his arm. "Gotcha. Believe me, this is for your own good. It won't be so bad, you'll see." When he saw Laura standing in the bathroom with a smile threatening, he felt ridiculous.
Apparently Laura couldn't suppress a giggle. "I talk to her all the time."
The squirming animal kept Mitch from responding. When he quickly slipped past Laura into the bathroom, she stepped inside and closed the door.
This time, he kept a firm grip on the cat. Laura knelt on the floor and toweled Puffball gently but applied enough pressure to soak up the moisture.
Every once in a while Laura's gaze met Mitch's and a surge of energy zipped through him. Inadvertently, his eyes slipped to her damp blouse hugging her breasts. Since when couldn't he direct his line of vision? His grip on Puffball tensed and she meowed.
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