Thankfully he’d be at work tomorrow afternoon.
* * *
ADDY WAS WORRIED. She hadn’t seen Mark in three days. She’d thought about him all the way through her botany lecture, planning the nonchalant way she’d greet him when she saw him outside class.
And she’d been inordinately disappointed when he hadn’t been there.
But she was worried about more than her ridiculous obsession with her next-door neighbor. Over the weekend, she’d found something else in the Montford faculty files that bothered her. Which was why she set off for the physical education building to look for Randi Foster’s office.
Randi Foster, who, before her marriage to the local vet, Zack Foster, had been Randi Parsons.
Will’s baby sister.
She’d known Randi was back in Shelter Valley, working at the university. She’d purposely steered clear of the physical education department until now. Until she’d reached the Ps and had reason to look through Randi’s personnel file.
She hadn’t seen Randi in person for twenty-five years. Hadn’t spoken to her. But she’d watched her play golf on television.
Would she still have that blond hair? She’d always thought Randi beautiful with her combination of light hair and dark brown eyes. Randi had been, what, ten when she’d lived with the Parsonses? Just a kid, herself.
She looked at the room numbers along the top of the wall. She was almost there.
The woman wasn’t going to recognize her. Will hadn’t even recognized her. But Addy remembered Randi. The older girl’s room had been right across the hall from hers during the six months she spent in the Parsonses’ home. There were many nights that Randi had come into that room to rescue little Addy from her nightmares.
The door to Randi’s office was open.
A woman sat at the desk, writing.
Her hair was still blond. And very short.
Addy took a deep breath. She thought about Will Parsons on trial. Out of a job. Thought of all the people who would be hurt. Unless Addy could formulate an airtight case against anyone who had a score to settle with him or the university. She had to know what they might be up against.
“Ms. Parsons?” Randi, a former golf pro, still used her maiden name at work.
Addy had known she worked at the university. She hadn’t known that Will had promoted his baby sister to women’s athletic director.
“Yeah.” Sounding distracted, Randi didn’t look up right away.
“I...need to speak with you,” Addy said, slowing her heart rate with even breaths. “Your office hours were posted so...”
“Yes.” Randi finally dropped her pen and jumped up. “I’m sorry. I am holding office hours now.” She pointed to the chart on her desk. “Class schedules. They drive me nuts but have to be done.”
At the beginning of the semester? Wasn’t that leaving it a little late?
“I’m supposed to predict how many students I’m going to have in my second-semester classes while I’m still checking numbers to see which classes exceeded enrollment for this semester! What can I do for you?”
“I, um, was wondering...well, I heard that you helped Susan Farley.” Addy’s hesitation was only half put on for the sake of her cover. Seeing Randi, acting as if the woman meant nothing to her, was proving much more difficult than she’d expected. Next to Will and Becca, Randi had been Addy’s lifeline at a time when her emotional and mental health had been extremely fragile.
She’d thought herself well past any vulnerability she’d felt toward them.
Randi came around to rest her backside against the front of her desk. Her arms were crossed. “Helped her?”
“Financially. I...have a little sister. She’s a star tennis player in Colorado....”
Addy knew a star tennis player in Colorado. She’d defended the girl when her high school wasn’t going to let her play in a critical match because she’d be missing class to do so. In Addy’s mind, it wasn’t a question of whether or not school athletes should be permitted to miss class to play sports, but a question of inequality due to the fact that football players at that same school missed class every single time there was an away game during football season.
She’d won.
She named several of the tournaments the girl had played in. “Our folks can’t afford to pay college tuition but with the money my dad makes, we just miss the cutoff criteria for her to qualify for a student loan,” she said.
She’d concocted a scenario similar to a case she’d come across in her research where Randi Parsons had been over budget, having even spent the overflow funds from the alumni athletic account and yet, after school had started, had managed to find funding for Susan Farley, a basketball center who’d gone on to play in the pros and currently had major sponsorships, including commercials on national television. Where the money had come from, she had no idea, but after learning about the situation from Randi’s files, she’d gone on to read articles about the woman who’d credited Randi Parsons with helping start her career. There’d been a reprimand regarding the overflow account expenditures in Randi’s personnel file. Which had spurred Addy to begin an hours-long investigation to uncover the rest of the facts.
And now she needed an incident with which she could counteract an allegedly discriminatory action.
The nepotism—the fact that Randi, who’d obviously taken liberties with school money, was working for her brother—wasn’t something she could do anything about. At least, not right then.
Addy couldn’t talk to Will. And she had to look into every possible reason someone could have to blackmail him. Nepotism as a basis of discrimination was a big one—if he’d hired his sister over other equally qualified applicants. Or kept her on staff in the face of blatant overspending when others had been let go for similar wrongdoing.
If he were charged, the prosecution’s investigation could very easily locate the same case Addy had found, and they could foreseeably establish a “test” of sorts to see if they could catch Randi in the act of misusing school funds as a means of strengthening their case. It was what Addy would have done.
“I’m currently a freshman here at Montford,” Addy said slowly, not having to fake the nervous hesitation with which she spoke. “It took me ten years to save for this, but my sister’s tennis can’t wait the four years it will take me to finish if she hopes to have any kind of career with it. If she attended Montford she’d be able to stay with me, which would alleviate her living expenses, but the tuition here is so steep. I was just hoping that maybe there would be something you could do.”
The whole scenario—her in Shelter Valley, there with Randi, pretending to be someone she was not—was making her physically ill. Her head throbbed.
“There are funds designated for scholarships. And some alumni money is available each year, too, but that’s all been promised for this year.”
“I figured that.” Addy glanced down, thinking about what she’d discovered the day before. Susan Farley had started school after the semester had begun. On full scholarship plus living expenses. The largest athletic scholarship the university had awarded to date—in both men’s and women’s athletics. It had come at a time when all scholarship funds had already been designated for the remainder of the year.
The woman had gone on to fame and fortune. And anyone who’d been turned down in similar circumstances could sue.
“I used to watch you golf,” Addy said, effecting a shyness that was not natura
l to her. “You were really good.”
Her arms still crossed, Randi lifted one foot to the chair in front of her desk. “That was a long time ago, but thanks. I’m into in-line skating now.”
Because skating didn’t take a lot of upper-body strength?
“I read about your car accident. I’m sorry.” Randi had been at the top of her game, in Florida to participate in a tournament she’d been expected to win, when she’d been involved in an accident that had crushed her shoulder—and ended her golf career.
Addy had received a phone call from Will shortly after the accident. She’d sent a card to Randi, with no personal note attached. She should have called.
“Like I said, it was a long time ago.” Randi reminded Addy of herself. Compartmentalizing to contain the things that could not be controlled.
“Susan is playing pro basketball now, isn’t she?” she continued. “She’s sponsored by one of the big tennis shoe companies. I saw her ad on TV. Montford’s women’s athletic program is the best.”
“Susan did make it to the pros. She’s doing quite well. Has your sister applied for tennis scholarships?”
“She didn’t have to apply. They came to her. My father met with the colleges, chose the one he thought would be best, but when my sister got there a couple of weeks ago, the scholarship offer was only good for tuition and books, not living expenses. And the tennis coach won’t let her work her first year while she acclimates to the team, to competition and studies. My parents can’t afford to keep her there and it’s too late to apply anywhere else.”
And ten years ago Randi had mysteriously come up with funds for a late-in-the-semester scholarship offer for a promising basketball player.
“I heard what you did for Susan and so I thought, maybe, on a long shot...”
Randi shook her head. “I called in some favors on that one,” she said, and Addy’s stomach sank. “My brother is the president of the university and I’ve already pissed him off as many times as I can afford and still keep my job,” she continued with a self-deprecating grin. “But let me see what I can do.”
“I’d really appreciate it.” Addy pulled a piece of paper from her satchel and handed it to Randi. “My name and phone number are on there.”
Calling in favors wasn’t necessarily wrong—or even inappropriate. But granting special funding if others who were similarly situated had been turned down would definitely be cause for a lawsuit.
“What’s your sister’s name?” Randi asked as Addy was about to leave. “You said she’s played in tournaments, maybe I can find some video on her....”
Addy was prepared. She gave out her client’s name, having already received permission from the girl’s family to do so, telling them only that she was working on another case, and added to Randi, “We have different fathers,” to explain the different last names.
“Can we please keep this between us for now? I don’t want to get her hopes up. Or get my folks involved until I know for sure that there’s a chance we can work something out.”
There was only so much she could ask her former clients to do.
“Sure.” Randi held out her hand. “Thanks for stopping in. Your little sister’s a lucky girl.”
Addy took the other woman’s hand and prayed that Randi didn’t do anything that could get either her or Will in trouble.
And then she prayed that God didn’t strike her dead for the lie she was living.
Whoever had coined the phrase about “one lie leading to another” had been completely, one hundred percent correct.
It felt like hers were leading her straight to hell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SITTING OUTSIDE ON the patio with a beer late Monday night, Mark sent Ella one of his nightly texts, wondering how long he was going to keep it up. She wasn’t answering. At some point, that let him off the hook, didn’t it?
He’d given his word that he’d be true to her. That he wouldn’t bail.
He was not his old man.
Addy’s light was on. After midnight. It had been three days since he’d seen her, but it seemed like three weeks.
Hell, he hadn’t even known her for three weeks.
But every night, when he climbed between the sheets alone, he thought of her sleeping right next door.
And he liked having her there.
What was the harm in that?
They were adults. Fully capable of being friends without taking things too far.
Crushing his empty beer can, he opened a second.
He wasn’t going to knock on her door. It was past midnight.
He’d seen his schedule that evening. After working eight days in a row he was finally going to have a day off Wednesday.
Her light was on. And the window was open. She was moving around in there.
“You okay?”
He heard rustling and wondered if she’d join him under the stars. They’d shared a drink once before. He should have put on a shirt with the sweats he’d pulled on after his shower....
“Mark?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t realize you were out there.” Her voice came from the kitchen window over his right shoulder.
He sipped, but didn’t turn around. “I worked late. I was too wound up to sleep.”
“I thought you were off at eight.”
God bless Nonnie. He could sure count on her to let everyone know every detail about him.
No, that wasn’t fair. Not everyone. Just those she approved of.
“A guy called in sick. I covered for him until they could get someone else in.”
She didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure she was still there.
“How’ve you been sleeping?” He peered up at the sky, seeing only a couple of stars, waiting to see if he’d get an answer.
“Fine.”
She was still there. Was she not dressed? Was that why she wasn’t coming outside?
“No more nightmares?”
“No.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her.
And he didn’t like that they were becoming strangers again.
“You free Wednesday night?” Veronica What’s-her-name was stopping by to see Nonnie after Bible study—maybe with another lady or two in tow—to share that week’s spiritual message.
“Yeah.”
“Want to have dinner then?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Well, good night.”
“’Night.”
Hot dog! He had a nondate with the girl next door.
* * *
RUSTLER’S ROOST in Phoenix was everything the guys at work had assured Mark it would be. Named after the early Phoenix cattle rustlers who’d supposedly built the mountain hideout, the restaurant boasted a slide, by which patrons accessed the dinner tables, set one floor below the entrance.
More uptight patrons, or those with disabilities, used the stairs. He slid down the slide. Addy opted for the stairs. She claimed she’d made the choice based on the calf-length black cotton skirt she was wearing with black wedges and a black-and-red ruffled blouse. He didn’t buy the excuse. She could have tucked her skirt under her. The wedges and blouse had no bearing on slide proficiency.
In black jeans and an off-white button-down shirt he used to wear the couple of times a year he had to look nice for church, Mark was about as dressed up as he got. He’d tried to leave his sleeves buttoned at the cuff but hadn’t made it out of the house before he’d rolled them up his forearms.
Sitting there at the rustic, but somehow still very ritzy, window table overlooking the Phoenix valley with
one of the most beautiful women in the room, he felt like a testosterone-fueled kid his first time off the farm.
“We’re going Dutch,” Addy announced, perusing the menu in front of her.
“No, we aren’t.” There were just some things a man did. To show respect.
With the top half of her long hair held back with a black clip, she looked as refined as the prices on the menu when she gave him the blue-eyed stare he was coming to recognize as her “I mean it” look. “Just friends,” she leaned forward to say. “You agreed.”
“I asked you to dinner and I picked the place so I’m paying. It’s the decent thing to do. If it makes you feel any better, I’d pay if you were Nonnie, or my fifth-grade schoolteacher, too.”
Those rose-tinted lips smiled at him—and food was the last thing on his mind. Paying for it, or eating it. “You’d take your fifth-grade teacher out to eat?”
Picturing Mrs. McDougal—short, plump and just a few years younger than Nonnie—he shrugged. “If she was hungry and I was there, sure, I guess I would.”
“But you never have?”
“No, why?”
“Because.” Still smiling, folding her pale-pink-tipped fingers together on the table in front of her, she leaned toward him again. “Your life is just so different from mine. I can’t even remember my fifth-grade teacher and I’m pretty sure I never saw her again after leaving elementary school. Where I come from, you don’t usually run into your teachers or your doctor when you’re out and about. Too many people, too many neighborhoods.”
He felt sorry for her. And slightly backward at the same time.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I love hearing about your life. I find it fascinating.”
Like a bug under a microscope? Or...
“I’ve wondered sometimes, what my life would have been like if I’d been raised in a smaller town.”
Resisting the urge to cover her hands with his, he said, “You’d have had people like Nonnie in your life every minute of every day.”
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