“I’m glad. That means we want the same thing,” Lily replied with an easy smile. “And that’s why you have to trust me to know right from wrong. Maybe tonight Boone will give me a reason to discover I’m mistaken about him. Maybe he’ll belch during the movie or pick his nose,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Or maybe he will be funny and charming, maybe he’ll listen to what I have to say and even laugh at my jokes. Either way, it’s up to me to decide. After all, it’s my life. I should be able to live it the way I want.”
Lily expected her father to disagree but instead he nodded. “All right, all right,” Morris said. “I know when I’m licked. Go have fun.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand.
“But if he tries any funny stuff, I want to know about it,” her father added with a scowl.
“You’ll be the first person I tell,” Lily said, though from what she knew of Boone, she was confident there was nothing to worry about.
“What time does the picture start?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Is he picking you up or are you meeting at the theater?” he pressed, the questions showing how protective he was when it came to his daughter.
“Boone’s coming to the house.”
The thin smile that slowly spread across her father’s face was enough to give Lily pause. “Good, that’s good,” Morris said. “That means I’ll be able to take his measure before your…your date…” he explained, that last word clearly hard to say out loud.
When Boone had asked Lily to the movies, she’d tried to warn him about what he was getting into, about how difficult her father could be.
Now she could only hope he had listened.
“You’re going where with whom?”
Boone stopped the razor that he’d been using to shave whiskers from his cheek and looked at Clive’s reflection in the small mirror above the sink. The writer was halfheartedly flipping through the local newspaper. Daisy was outside tied to a tree in the backyard; not only did it give Clive a welcome break from sneezing, but the dog was happy to sniff around in the cool grass.
“I’m taking Lily Denton to the movies,” Boone repeated, then went back to cleaning himself up for his date.
“Denton?” Clive echoed. “She isn’t related to the mayor, is she?”
“She’s his daughter.”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
Once again, Boone stopped shaving midstroke. “Should it?”
Clive shrugged. “All I’m saying is that her dad talks like he gets paid by the word and has his heart set on being a millionaire,” he explained. “If his daughter was cut from the same cloth, I’d be worried that she’d talk my ear off.”
“Lily isn’t like that. Lucky for me, this particular apple fell far from the tree.”
“What picture are you seeing?”
“High Noon.”
“Good movie. I saw it a month or so back at the Palladium on Seventeenth,” Clive said. “I know plenty of people swear that John Wayne is the best of the Hollywood cowboys, but I’ll take Gary Cooper any day of the week.”
Boone didn’t offer his opinion, even though he’d already seen the picture, too. He liked it enough to sit through it again, sure, but this night wasn’t about watching a movie. It was about spending more time with Lily. For that, he would have gladly sat through it a dozen times so long as she was there beside him.
Once he’d finished shaving, Boone wiped his face with a towel and slipped on his shirt. As he did up the buttons, he looked in the mirror and frowned. Since he hadn’t expected to be in Hooper’s Crossing for long, Boone didn’t have much in the way of clothes. His outfit, while perfectly suitable for taking pictures, now seemed too shabby for a date with a beautiful young woman he wanted to impress.
“Does this look all right to you?” he asked Clive.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it?”
Boone took the shirt’s well-worn fabric between his fingers. “I don’t want to come across like a hobo fresh off the train.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” the writer began, “but you don’t strike me as the sort of guy who is too concerned about his wardrobe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Boone replied a bit defensively.
“Nothing bad,” Clive replied quickly. “It’s just that when you’re darting through a jungle or sweating bullets in some far-flung city, you aren’t too concerned about how you look in the mirror, right?”
Boone shrugged. The other man was right.
“So I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll look like a bum.”
Clive closed the newspaper and set it aside. “That’s basically what you were wearing when the two of you met, right?” he asked.
“More or less.”
“Then you’re as good as gold. If she liked what she saw enough to agree to go out with you, then it’s hard to imagine she’d be disappointed or surprised when you knock on her door in that.”
Though Boone hated to admit it, Clive was probably right. Lily had seemed plenty interested in him just the way he was, well-worn clothes and all. Besides, she knew he was in town for business; it wasn’t like he’d hauled his entire wardrobe along with him. He’d just be himself and let the chips fall where they may.
“You like this girl a lot, don’t you?” Clive asked, his expression curious, finally resembling a writer who’d caught the whiff of an interesting story.
Boone could have admitted to it, but chose not to. Instead he asked, “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”
“I’ll probably start writing my notes into an article,” Clive answered. “The problem is, I have so much that I’m not sure where to start.”
After walking Lily back to the library, he and Clive had spent the afternoon at the festival among the crowded booths, taking pictures and interviewing people. Boone already had more shots than he needed, but he hadn’t minded snapping a few more. Meeting Lily and hearing what she had to say about her town had changed his perspective on things.
“What about writing from the reader’s point of view,” he suggested.
Clive shook his head. “I don’t follow.”
“Try to imagine what it would be like to come to the festival for the first time,” Boone explained. “All the sights and sounds, smells and tastes. You could introduce some of the people you talked to today as if you were strolling through the park and met them, one after the other.”
“That’s a great idea!” the writer gushed, then rushed over to his notebook as if he couldn’t wait to get to work. “Thanks a lot!”
“I know you’re excited, but don’t spend the whole night cooped up in here,” Boone added as he slipped on his watch and slid his wallet into his back pocket. “You should get out for a bit, too. Take a walk or check out the festival.”
“Sure, sure,” Clive responded without looking up from his pages. “I’ll try, but I’ve got plenty of work to do first.”
Boone shrugged. He’d tried. If Clive wanted to waste a perfectly gorgeous autumn night scribbling out an article, that was his loss.
Not Boone. He had other plans.
But then, just before he reached the door, Clive asked, “Are you meeting Lily at her place or the movie theater?”
“Her place.”
“That means you’re probably going to see her dad, right?”
“Yeah.”
Clive chuckled. “Good luck.”
Boone’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?” But even as he asked the question, he faintly remembered his conversation with Lily.
Had something been said about a shotgun?
The writer’s warning was nowhere near as threatening, though it did give Boone pause. “That guy’s in love with the sound of his own voice,” Clive answered. “If you’re not careful, you might miss the start of the movie.”
For what felt like the dozenth time, Lily looked
at herself in the mirror hanging beside the front door. She had tried on outfit after outfit, almost emptying her closet as she searched for just the right one. Dresses had been discarded for being too flashy, too drab, the wrong color or length. Finally, she’d settled on a yellow dress more appropriate for summer, adding a white cardigan for warmth. Even now, she still wasn’t convinced that she had made the correct choice.
Lily pulled back the curtain and looked outside. The sun had already reached the treetops, casting long shadows across the ground. Birds swooped through the quickly darkening sky. Any moment now, Boone would come walking down the sidewalk and their date would begin.
Even though there were no butterflies outside, there were plenty in Lily’s stomach. It didn’t matter that she’d only just met Boone. She liked him, maybe more than she would have been willing to admit. The photographer had grabbed her attention, and Lily didn’t want him to let go. She wanted their night together to get off to the right start.
Which was why she was keeping a close eye on her father.
Ever since she’d told him about her plans with Boone, Morris had been lost in thought. He had grunted and grumbled both during and after dinner, clearly still uneasy that his daughter was going to the movies with a man he considered a complete stranger. Lily expected him to pounce on Boone the second the photographer knocked on the door, badgering him about his intentions and demanding that she be brought home at a ridiculously early time. Even though Lily planned on ignoring whatever her father said, she still feared being embarrassed in front of Boone.
As Lily took yet another look at herself in the mirror, the telephone rang. She heard her father answer; though she had no idea who he was speaking with, Morris was using his “mayor voice” and talking about the festival.
Just then, she saw Boone headed toward the house.
Lily’s heart leaped, mostly from the excitement of seeing him again, but also because she might not have to deal with her father confronting Boone after all. She opened the door and stepped onto the porch.
When Boone saw her, he came to a sudden stop and stared. “You look beautiful…” he said.
The intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words were too much for Lily. She looked away, unable to fully accept his compliment. “I had a hard time picking out something to wear,” she admitted, self-consciously crossing her arms. “I worried that I might have overdressed.”
“You’re perfect,” he told her. “If anyone has reason to worry about their clothes, it’s me. I didn’t have a lot to choose from.”
Boone wore the same outfit as when they’d met. He appeared casual, as if he was about to roll up his sleeves and do some hard labor, but Lily didn’t mind. Thanks to his strong features, to say nothing of a smile with enough wattage to light a dark room, there likely wasn’t an outfit that Boone wouldn’t be handsome in.
“You look good,” Lily said. When he began to chuckle, she asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Seeing you dressed like that, I’ve realized something,” he answered. “Even if I’d brought the spiffiest outfit in my closet, I still wouldn’t hold a candle to you.”
Even though she remained a bit embarrassed by his praise, this time Lily accepted it. “That’s kind of you to say,” she replied.
Boone’s gaze drifted from her to the house. “This is a nice place you’ve got.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Is your father around?”
At the mention of Morris, the spell that had been cast on her after seeing Boone again was broken. “He’s on the phone,” Lily said even as she hurried down the porch steps and slipped her arm in the photographer’s, thinking that this was their chance to get away. “Something about the festival, I think. He’ll probably be busy for—”
But they were only halfway down the walk when she heard the creak of the front door.
“There you are,” her father said, his voice loud in the evening air. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you left. We have a few things to talk about.”
“We don’t want to be late to the movie,” Lily responded without stopping, looking back over her shoulder. “We’ll be back around—” she continued, but stopped when Boone came to an unexpected halt.
“It’s okay, Lily,” he told her.
She shook her head, not wanting to let the chance to get away go. “You don’t know what he can be like.”
Boone smiled, then gave her a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” he said, then started back toward the porch.
Morris smiled in a way that resembled the lion at the zoo who was about to be fed. “Tatum, was it?” he asked, extending his hand.
“That’s right, sir,” Boone answered, taking her father’s offered greeting and giving it a good shake. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Of course, of course. Now about you taking my daughter out for—”
“I have to admit, Mayor Denton,” the photographer interrupted, flashing his brightest smile, “I’ve thought an awful lot about you since we met.”
Morris’s brow furrowed. “You have?”
“Your town has made quite an impression on me,” Boone explained. “Working for Life, I’ve been all over the world, from places that aren’t a lot more than a couple of huts, to cities filled with tall skyscrapers. Heck, I’ve been to so many countries that somewhere along the way I lost count.”
“Is that a fact?” her father asked, seeming genuinely impressed.
“Yes, sir, it is. Now, most of these places are the same other than the language they speak or the food they eat. Some are more exotic than others. Some leave an impression,” Boone said. “Hooper’s Crossing is one of the latter. I’ll be honest with you, I wasn’t looking forward to coming here. But now that I’ve strolled down its streets, talked with its people, seen what it has to offer,” he explained, slipping a quick glance in Lily’s direction, “I’m awfully glad I came. Seems to me, some of the credit for that should go to the man who runs it.”
“I’m just one person among many,” Morris replied humbly, though his daughter could see that he was touched. Unlike when Boone had used his significant charms to wheedle Ethel into letting him do what he wanted, Lily heard no small amount of truth in the photographer’s words.
She, and Hooper’s Crossing, had made an impression on him.
“Do you think the town will come off looking good in the magazine?” Morris asked, clearly quite curious about the answer.
“It will if I have anything to say about it,” Boone replied.
Morris nodded, then clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “You kids have a good time at the show.”
Lily didn’t say a word until they were a way down the sidewalk, the house and her father well behind them. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Thinking about it brought a smile to her face. “I don’t think anyone has ever tamed my father quite like that before.”
“It wasn’t anything special,” Boone replied. “I just told him the truth, a particular truth I knew he would want to hear.”
Just as with Ethel at the library, the photographer had gotten what he wanted, albeit in a different way. Boone seemed to know exactly what to say and how to say it.
“How did you know it would work?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Easy. I read him. You see, most people are like a book. Some you have to be careful with, while others can be knocked over with a feather. Your father would have known I was blowing smoke, so I took another route.”
“Like a book,” Lily repeated. “So then, what kind am I?”
Boone turned and gave her a wink. “To be honest, I don’t know just yet, but I’m having a heck of a good time turning the pages.”
Chapter Fourteen
RANDALL TOOK ONE LAST DRAG on his cigarette, then flicked the butt out the car window where it immediately disappeared from sight. Leo was behind the wheel, driving them toward Hooper’s Crossing. Even though it was early evening, with only the brightest of stars shining in the bruised-pu
rple sky, their headlights were on, illuminating the road. The oncoming night was cool and growing colder, but Randall stubbornly refused to roll up his window. The discomfort matched his mood.
“This ain’t gonna be any different from yesterday,” he grumbled.
“Only one way to find out,” Leo answered.
Randall sighed. “It’s like lookin’ for a needle in a haystack.”
“Just remember, you’re the one who tossed the damn thing in there.”
How can I forget when you keep remindin’ me?
After Randall had been inadvertently photographed by the guy from Life magazine, Leo had come up with a plan for them to get their hands on the picture. Yesterday, they’d returned to town around dusk, using the darkness as cover, and driven the streets, scanning the festival. Randall had looked every which way, increasingly desperate to catch sight of either the photographer or the man he’d spoken with. Hours had passed with nothing to show for them. There had been a couple of close calls, men who bore a passing resemblance to the bastard who’d been talking with Lily, but each time Randall had been wrong. With every case of mistaken identity, the tension in the car had risen. Finally, they’d packed it in and returned to their hideout.
Tonight, they intended to give it one more try. If they couldn’t find the photographer, the plan to rob the bank was off.
“I still don’t see why it matters if that guy snapped my picture,” Randall wondered aloud, voicing a thought that had nagged at him after the initial shock of being photographed had worn off. “We’re gonna hit that place wearin’ costumes, like about every other person in town, so what difference does it make?”
“’Cause I don’t like takin’ risks,” Leo answered.
“Nothin’ ventured, nothin’ gained,” the younger thief countered.
“Problem is, I’m stakin’ my life on this job. You been lucky enough not to find yourself behind bars, but I’ve been there and I ain’t goin’ back. My age, it wouldn’t take much of a sentence and I’d never be a free man again. They’d be tossin’ my corpse in a hole back behind the jail, just another old man too stupid to keep from gettin’ caught. It ain’t worth it.”
The Nearness of You Page 14