The place was a zoo—long lineups of students with not as many books in hand as she’d expected. Montford provided students the opportunity to purchase most of their classroom materials in ebook form and, by the look of things, a good many of them were doing so. Not sure about the buy-back policy on ebooks, she was opting for print copies.
In spite of the amount of traffic, there were no exceptionally long waits. Standing in the cash line with her satchel over her shoulder and her arms filled with heavy tomes, Addy marveled at the efficiency of the store. The three lines immediately to her left were reserved for credit card users. And to the far right was a line designated for scholarship recipients.
Probably students on a full ride whose books were included as part of their monetary award. Scholarship recipients were on her list of people to investigate. Lawsuits had been filed—and won—based on education being denied to some while it was offered freely to others of equal merit. And a degree from Montford came with external economic value.
As Addy was mulling over that thought, her heart suddenly tripped. Mark Heber, looking sexy in jeans and a white polo shirt, had just joined the back of the scholarship line.
God, he looked good.
He couldn’t see her. She couldn’t let him. Not yet. Not so soon after last night. At least not until she had her emotions firmly in check. Turning her back, Addy stepped up to the counter, her sob story in place for the cashier as she attempted to get a pass on paying for her books. When she was told in no uncertain terms that she had to pay, she asked to see a manager, asked to speak with the manager’s boss, asked if students in the scholarship line got their books for free and what she’d have to do to reap the same benefit.
She’d be doing spot checks like these all over campus to ensure that employees at every level knew university policy and applied it across the board. A lapse, regardless of how minor it was, could point to a bigger personnel problem—or aggrieved student. If employees didn’t follow policies—like those related to hiring, conflict of interest and so on—rigorously, they could put the university at risk of a lawsuit.
So Addy did her best to get someone to make a mistake....
She did it all without raising her voice, or causing a stink. And when she left she was happy to know that Montford’s bookstore employees, at least those who were working that day, could not be persuaded to budge from university policies.
Stepping outside, she wished she could call Will—and almost walked straight into Mark.
“What was going on in there?” he asked, falling into step beside her as though they met on campus every day and hadn’t just met for the first time the week before.
As though he hadn’t been sharing her living room couch, smiling at Barney Fife’s antics, mere hours before.
“Nothing, why?” she asked, conscious of guarding Adrianna Keller’s secrets—and Will Parsons’s.
“You seemed to be having trouble. I heard you ask to see the manager. So I waited.”
Maybe she was still vulnerable from the night before, or maybe Mark Heber was just a genuinely good guy, but Addy was touched by his concern.
And bothered, too. She was there to work while living a lie. She couldn’t encourage friendship.
But she also had to try to fit in—and a new student in town would be eager to make friends....
“One of the books I need is in ebook format only.” She couldn’t believe the ease with which the lie escaped her lips. “I prefer print and was checking to see if there was a print-on-demand option.”
“Is there?” He stepped closer to her to avoid colliding with a group of young guys going in the opposite direction. Addy felt the brush of his arm as acutely as if he’d just kissed her.
Books. He asked about books. “Yes.” A pair of girls were coming toward them. One had tattoos all the way down her arm. Addy focused on the tattoos. “It’ll take a few days, though.”
He reached for her bag of books. “Are you headed to your car?” he asked. “I can get these for you.”
She could carry her own books, but she gave up her bag. “Yeah. How about you?”
“I’ve got a break, two afternoon classes and then I’ve got to go to work.”
He had a backpack slung over one shoulder. No bookstore bag. But she’d seen him in the scholarship line. It didn’t surprise her that he’d won a scholarship.
Only that he’d applied for one, if what Nonnie had said was true and he was in Shelter Valley only because she’d blackmailed him.
The man was occupying far too many of her thoughts. She needed to focus them elsewhere so she could free Will and get out of town. But Mark smelled musky and masculine and...
“You don’t have any books.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“I prefer ebooks.” He shrugged, grinned and then said, “And I just found out this morning that my scholarship provides for a tablet to read them, too. You’re talking to the owner of a brand-new seven-inch e-reader. Not quite an iPad, but it’s still pretty cool.”
He sounded like a deep-voiced kid at Christmas. He was smiling broadly as they walked across the campus, the sun shining warmly down on them. Addy wondered if he liked Christmas, if he and Nonnie celebrated in a big way. She wanted to tease him about his obvious affection for electronic devices. But she was there to work.
Period.
“Your grandmother said something about blackmailing you to go to college,” she said, even though she knew that she should be taking back her bag of books and getting the heck away from him. “Was that just B.S.?”
“Nope.” His smile faded a little. “She did.”
“But you seem happy to be here.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the hard truth about Nonnie. She mouths off, but she’s generally right.”
Oh, God. She was liking this man more and more. Getting herself all twisted up when she absolutely shouldn’t.
And still she smiled again. “So, what, you applied for scholarships hoping you wouldn’t win any so you could be off the hook?” Or he’d applied because he actually wanted to attend college to begin with—which Nonnie had probably known and that knowledge had been the basis for her blackmail scheme.
Addy had it all worked out. Like she knew the two of them that well. And had any business at all speculating about them.
Or caring about them in any way.
“I didn’t apply,” Mark said.
“Then who did?”
“My guess is Nonnie,” Mark said, stepping down off the curb as they reached the lot where she’d parked her car. “She insists that she didn’t, but there’s no other explanation. It was crazy. I came home from work one day and there’s this letter in the box addressed to me. Nonnie acted like she knew nothing about it. I opened it and it’s this packet of papers telling me that I’m a scholarship recipient, giving me details of the award in terms of financials and including forms I had to fill out to accept the offer.”
“No explanation of where the money’s coming from or on what basis you earned the scholarship?”
“No.”
They’d reached her car. “And Nonnie won’t admit she applied, even now that you’re here?” She unlocked the door and swung it open.
“She’s too stubborn to admit she lied.” With a hand on her door frame, Mark handed her the bag of books, waiting while she slung them over to the passenger seat.
And then the two of them were standing there, eye to eye, trapped between the opened door and the ca
r.
Time to get in. Get home.
“Thank you for carrying my books.” She stood there, as if she was waiting for something.
“You’re welcome.” He grinned again. A different kind of expression. One that sent shards of pleasure shooting clear to her toes.
And when the moment turned embarrassing, she ducked into her car, pulled the door closed and waved goodbye.
* * *
MARK HAD BEEN looking for his new neighbor in every class that first morning of college. They were both freshmen. It stood to reason that they’d be in a freshman-level mandatory class together. He’d been disappointed that she hadn’t been in any of them.
And then he’d seen her in the bookstore. Telling himself that he’d watched for her because she was the only person he knew, he allowed that it wouldn’t be disloyal to Ella if he waited for her outside the bookstore.
He told himself he waited because he knew she’d had a rough time the night before. Because he wanted to make sure she was okay. It was the neighborly thing to do.
But then he’d failed to ask her if she was okay, to mention the night before at all. Hell, he’d almost kissed her.
Almost being the operative word. He hadn’t.
Ella had predicted that he’d move to Shelter Valley and move on from her, too. That she wouldn’t be good enough for him once he met college women. She’d broken up with him because she was afraid of losing him, but he knew she loved him. And he cared about her, too.
He’d given her his word that he would come back to her.
With his resolve firmly in place, Mark texted Ella.
But she didn’t respond.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ADDY PULLED OUT of the parking lot and headed straight home, forcing herself to focus all of her mental energy on the task at hand—on a question raised by some numbers she’d come across before falling asleep on her couch the evening before.
A question that preceded the nightmare and all that had come after.
She’d been looking through professor rating statistics—a series of measurements collated from performance reviews and anonymous student ratings. Near the top of a chart showing the rankings of all the professors to have taught a full semester at Montford over the past fifteen years was a woman named Christine Evans. The woman had taught English. Her performance reviews were excellent. Student ratings placed her at the top of the chart. And she had only taught for one semester.
Why? Had Will Parsons found something untoward about the woman? Fired her? And was there a paper trail, documentation, to support his decision?
Proof of wrongdoing in case the woman was somehow involved in the threat against Will?
Or had the woman quit? And if so, why?
It might be nothing. Probably was nothing. But her job over the next four months was to pursue every single lead that raised any question at all in her mind, from a legal standpoint.
The fact that Mark’s scholarship had shown up without any effort from him at all was also odd. Nonnie had to have applied. She’d know all of Mark’s pertinent information, including his social security number, but still, the circumstances were curious.
She was going to have to look him up—find out where the scholarship came from. She had to look at scholarships, anyway, albeit just a sampling. But she couldn’t ignore this. Not if she was going to do right by Will.
If she was still in contact with Will, she’d have called him to ask about the scholarship—and the professor. But not only was she staying away to avoid risking her cover, she and the sheriff had also determined that Addy’s work would be more valid, less likely to be influenced, if she worked separate and apart from Will. She didn’t want her research tainted by bias.
“Psst.”
Climbing the couple of steps to her front door, Addy stopped at the sound and glanced around.
“It’s me.” Nonnie Heber’s voice sailed loud and clear through the screen door next to her. “You got a minute?”
“Sure.” She stepped up to the door and peered into a room barely discernible from her vantage point, standing as she was in the bright sunshine. Nonnie was in her wheelchair, but Addy couldn’t make out the expression on the older woman’s face. “Can I get you something?”
“No, got all I need. ’Cept someone to chat with.”
Addy had work to do. She wrestled with silent thoughts, searching for words to excuse herself without hurting the older woman’s feelings.
“Door’s open. Come in.”
Addy pulled on the handle.
Fifteen minutes later, she was pouring iced tea for herself and her elderly neighbor.
“I told Mark he didn’t have to stop off at home between school and work at the plant,” Nonnie said as Addy carried the cold glass into the living room. “I’m fine here. But he insists. At home in Bierly, folks were always stopping by to see me, and Doris, next door, I’ve known her since she was born. She came in every morning whether I wanted her to or not.” Nonnie’s diatribe stopped long enough for her to sip.
“I did something this morning,” she continued shortly. “I don’t want Mark to know.” She lowered her voice, leaning toward Addy. “Not yet. But I have to tell someone.”
“What did you do?” The older woman appeared to be fine. The kitchen looked normal.
“I sold my house.”
“Your house?”
“Was my grandparents’ place to begin with. Grandpa built it on a piece of land his daddy gave him when he married Grandma. My daddy was born there. And so was I.”
“And you sold it?” Was Nonnie getting senile? She didn’t seem to be, but it wasn’t like Addy had had multiple conversations with the woman.
“Yep. This morning.” She named a price that sounded decent to Addy, but not knowing the area, or the size of the home or land, she couldn’t be sure.
This wasn’t her business.
“You said Mark doesn’t know?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you think you should tell him?”
“Nope.”
“I really think you should.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’d have a fit.”
“Maybe he has reason to.”
“No, he don’t.”
“The house has been in your family for generations.”
“Yep. And now it isn’t.”
Alarmed at Nonnie’s pragmatic manner, at the possible mistake being made, she asked, “But you haven’t closed on it yet, right?”
“Wrong. It was a cash deal. Closed this morning.”
Oh, God.
“Medicare doesn’t cover my most expensive meds.”
“Do you have supplemental insurance?”
Nonnie shook her head. “Canceled me a few years back.”
“Canceled you? Did you miss a premium?”
“Nope.”
“Did you omit key medical information on your application?” She was a lawyer. The question just slipped out.
“No. They said I did, though.”
“What was the basis for their claim?”
“I disclosed the multiple sclerosis. I said I wasn’t in a chair.” She motioned toward her chair. “Because I wasn’t at the time. Then I fell again and was sentenced to the damn thing. I put in a claim for it and they denied the claim and then canceled the insurance.”
Addy didn’t know a lot about insurance law, but she knew enough to know
that insurance companies had done some unethical things regarding policy cancellations.
“Did you talk to an attorney?”
“Found one on the internet. But he wasn’t sure I’d win and I couldn’t afford to pay all the money it would cost me to go to court on a chance I’d lose.”
“What did Mark say about all of this?”
“Nothing. I didn’t tell him about it.”
“Don’t you think you should have?”
“Sometimes. But mostly, no. That boy has sacrificed too much of his life because of me. He was already working two jobs and getting nowhere. I got by using my Social Security.” Nonnie’s words were raspy and growing more so, as though she was out of breath. Hands shaking, she picked up her glass of tea and took a sip, sloshing the liquid over her top lip and onto the lap of her cotton short-sleeved dress.
Got by. Past tense?
Addy had to get back to her work. The Hebers’ problems were not hers. Nothing in Shelter Valley belonged to her. With the exception of Will’s problem. That she’d agreed to take on.
Still, Nonnie Heber was new to town. By her own admission the woman was used to having people stop in and see her every day. People who likely heard the same stories Addy was hearing. Or renditions thereof.
The woman was lonely. Addy thought of Gran, those last years after she’d left for college. And of the neighborhood women who’d kept her grandmother company.
“I take more meds now.” Nonnie’s voice was fading. “Didn’t expect to live so long.”
Addy understood. “Social Security isn’t enough to cover the difference.”
The response earned her a self-deprecating smile. “Who knew I’d outlast Doc’s predictions?”
“You have to tell Mark. He’ll help you.”
“No!” Nonnie sat upright and winced. “My grandson has this scholarship. This chance. The house was just a building. A piece of property. In a town that won’t give him nothing more than he’s already had.”
It's Never too Late Page 7