“Oh,” he said shortly.
“Yeah, he’s still upset we didn’t go to Hawaii.”
“How is it his damn business?”
“He’s my father, Chris.”
“Yeah, well...let’s just forget it.”
An odd expression crossed Susan’s face, but then she smiled. “Right. How was work?”
“Great. What’s for dinner?”
“Quesadillas and salad.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll go get washed up.”
* * *
SUSAN CHECKED THE food in the oven and pulled the salad from the refrigerator. She’d considered making pork or chicken tacos for herself. It wasn’t that she objected to Chris being a vegetarian, but she enjoyed having meat part of the time...until he got that look on his face, as if he’d smelled something rotten. Under the circumstances, it was easier to fix the same thing for both of them.
She set out extra fillings for the quesadillas on the counter. The tortillas were particularly delicious when packed with chopped cabbage, tomatoes, avocado, salsa and other things. They were good with meat, too, but... She pushed the thought away. She’d known Chris was a vegetarian when they had married, and at least he wasn’t vegan. Proper vegan cooking was complicated, having to mix certain foods to ensure you ate complete proteins. Luckily, Chris was a cheese fanatic, and hadn’t been able to give up dairy products.
He also hadn’t given up an occasional fish dinner, though that was a problem for her since she was allergic to seafood.
By the time Chris had returned to the kitchen, everything was ready. He’d shaved, and the base of her abdomen tightened. Shaving usually meant he hoped for a hot night in bed, so maybe their trip had done more than she’d thought. Or it could be the knowledge that, as much as they missed Evan, being alone in the house also had a few advantages.
He grinned knowingly. “How about an early night?”
“Sounds good to me.”
They served their quesadillas and added the salad on the side before taking their plates to the kitchen table. Their view looked out to a wooded area beyond the house, which was much better than the four walls of the dining room they rarely used. But as soon as they sat down, Evan’s absence hit her, and she had a feeling Chris felt it, as well.
“We could move the extra chair into the other room,” she suggested. “I hate seeing it empty. But Evan might feel strange if he came home for a visit and saw it wasn’t there.”
“True, though I don’t think he’ll be home until Thanksgiving.”
Thanksgiving was over two months away. More than ever, Susan regretted giving in to Chris’s insistence they have only one child. His arguments had made sense at the time, all about reducing population pressure and taking care of the environment, but it would be nice to still have kids in the house.
“We’ll need to plan something extra special for the holiday,” she said.
“Yeah, thank God this is our year to stay at home,” Chris muttered vehemently. “Dinner with your parents is like stepping into the eighteen hundreds.”
The muscles between Susan’s shoulder blades twinged. She and Chris had worked out a compromise about Thanksgiving. Since he’d grown up in foster homes, he had no family to visit, and he disliked going to her parents’ home. So they alternated, going only every other year.
“You could be more gracious about the way you say things like that,” she told him, more annoyed than usual.
He seemed surprised. “You don’t enjoy spending Thanksgiving with your father any more than I do.”
No, she didn’t, but it was hard when Chris was so vehement about his disdain for the Jensens. Actually, for her father. He liked her mom well enough, though he claimed Karen Jensen didn’t have a backbone.
Neither do I, came the unpleasant thought. It wasn’t true, but maybe she should call her husband to account more often when he was rude about her family. She just didn’t want to fight about it tonight, so soon after returning from their vacation.
“They’re my parents,” she reminded him. “But let’s forget it for now.”
Chris’s expression eased and they continued with their meal. When his leg brushed hers, she knew he was still in the mood for an early night.
A short while later, she straightened from putting the last dish in the dishwasher and pushed the door shut. His arm slipped around her waist as he pulled her against him. His lips found the sensitive part of her neck, while his hands pulled her shirt free from her skirt. He laid his hands on the bare skin of her waist.
“Definitely, let’s have an early night,” she gasped, letting passion sweep away other, less pleasant thoughts.
* * *
MANDY GLANCED AT her watch.
Finally. Four o’clock, Friday afternoon. The week had felt longer than usual. With Daniel around, she found it hard to relax and act normally—there was something about him that kept ruffling her nerves. But at least her mouth had stopped running off quite as much when he was around. Well, most of the time.
Still, things seemed to be settling down. There was no way she could avoid seeing Daniel since their offices were in the same hallway, only thirty feet apart. But he was usually busy at his desk or poking through various departments and talking with city staff members. He hadn’t come over to her house again, either. She was trying to keep Mr. Spock inside, though he was becoming surly over the restriction.
Unfortunately, Daniel had annoyed a few of the seniors when he’d tried to check out the Senior Center, but she’d told them it was her fault for not making it clear that the program ran independently. After all, when she’d mentioned he wasn’t her supervisor, she had been talking about helping with the paperwork, so it wasn’t a totally lame assumption to think the center was still under the city’s authority. Besides, he needed to know what was happening in the town, and the senior program was very important to the community.
The majority of the seniors had finally shrugged off their irritation. And while Daniel hadn’t taken them up on the offer, he’d been given an open invitation to the daily senior lunch.
“Hey, Mandy.” Susan walked into the office and dropped into a chair. “Did you hear about the council meeting last night?”
“Not much. I missed out on the day’s quota of gossip. We didn’t have the regular senior lunch, other than delivery to the shut-ins, because almost everyone went on that bus tour down the coast.”
“You didn’t go with them?”
“Buses make me nauseous, and having a dizzy passenger along can spoil everyone’s fun. Besides, now I’m nicely caught up on paperwork and will hardly have to touch it next week. Hallelujah. So, how was the meeting?”
“Part of it was getting to know Daniel. Everyone liked him well enough, which is good, all things considered.”
Mandy remembered Susan’s worries when the council had interviewed Daniel via Skype, and not in person. They’d never expected to find someone with his experience and credentials, and jumped to offer the job for fear he’d be grabbed by another town if they waited for a face-to-face meeting. Susan had questioned why someone with his qualifications and unbroken history working in large metropolitan areas would take a job so far from the city.
“It’s good they like him,” Mandy said. “Did anything else happen?”
“They discussed the town’s water supply. We need more, plus there was talk about a new sewer system and treatment plant.”
“Water is a problem in this part of California?” Mandy asked. “I know there are shortages down south, but I thought we were far enough north to make it the land-of-plenty when it comes to H2O.”
“It’s one thing to have it come out of the sky, another through water faucets. And to be honest, sometimes it doesn’t come out of the sky enough. We need to expand the reservoir or find another solution, but when I got
home and told Chris about it, he became all uptight. You know how he is on the environment.”
“No joke.”
Though Susan was a decade older than Mandy, the two of them had hit it off from the beginning, and Mandy liked Susan’s husband equally well. Chris Russell was a forestry and wildlife expert, working for the U.S. Forest Service, and was passionate about saving the world for his son and future generations. They’d had glorious debates on the subject, sitting on the Russells’ backyard deck while eating stir-fried tofu or spinach lasagna—Chris’s efforts to save the environment included being a vegetarian. That was another subject they’d debated. She didn’t think you could call yourself a vegetarian if you still ate seafood.
Susan yawned. “I guess we’ll figure it out, but I wish it hadn’t come up so close to Friday night. Chris will have a hard time staying off the subject, and I’m not in the mood for hearing him rail about it for hours.”
Mandy swallowed a grin. Friday evenings were Chris and Susan’s regular “date” night. They had started it a few months earlier when they’d confronted the fact that their only child would be heading to college that fall. They wanted to be sure they connected as a couple, not just as parents. It made sense to Mandy. Not that her folks had found it a problem—the elder Colsons had simply related to Mandy and her brothers as if they had already been adults, and to each other more as colleagues than husband and wife. Or that was how it had seemed to Mandy.
“Wear that black dress we found when we went shopping in Santa Rosa,” she suggested. “He might have trouble concentrating on water sources and treatment plants when he sees its plunging neckline.”
Susan’s face brightened and a speculative gleam entered her eyes. “Good idea. Guess I’d better get home and give myself the full beauty treatment.”
A few minutes after Susan had left, Daniel knocked on her doorjamb. “Good afternoon.”
“Hi,” she replied. “How’s it going? Getting settled at your house?”
“There isn’t much to do right now. The movers don’t deliver until Monday.” He paused, frowned, then turned to close the door of her office. “Listen, I couldn’t help overhearing bits and pieces of discussion about the water project with your visitor.”
Mandy shrugged. She didn’t expect conversations to be private, not with her door standing open. Folks who wanted things to stay confidential either closed it, the way Daniel had, or they suggested taking a walk in the park at the back of City Hall.
Now Daniel stepped closer and spoke softly, though the door was closed and few people remained in the building so late on a Friday afternoon. “It might not be a good idea to discuss the water issue with anyone.”
“Oh?” Mandy generally tried to keep an open mind, but what right did he have to try to control what people talked about? “Why?”
“It’s just that it may be controversial—these things usually are.”
“Susan is a friend,” Mandy answered shortly. “We talk about stuff. Besides, meetings are public and anyone can attend. Something of this sort will be chattered about all over town.”
“But you work for City Hall,” he countered. “That puts you in a different category.”
“I thought we’d cleared this up,” she said. “I don’t work for you or City Hall. The seniors are in charge of their own program. Fannie Snow’s bequest to the city was contingent on them providing space for the Senior Center. That’s all.”
Daniel stared at her with a hard-to-read expression. “All right,” he agreed in an even tone. “But you work at City Hall. If you say anything on the subject, people may assume you have special knowledge.”
“Nonsense,” she dismissed. “Folks around here know I don’t do politics. I don’t like politics. In fact, I loathe politics. I saw too much of it growing up.”
“Your parents are in public office?”
“Hell, no. They’d consider it a major comedown, which I personally think is a small-minded attitude. But if you think City Hall has politics, try visiting a small private college campus. My folks are both professors at Baux College in Connecticut. Dad is the department head for classical studies, and Mom teaches physics. Don’t ask me how they got together with that combination. It’s probably because they...uh, never mind. I love my folks, but it’s easier to love them from nearly three thousand miles away.”
He shook his head. “Nonetheless, Mandy—”
“Don’t say it.”
“What do you mean?”
“When someone says ‘nonetheless, Mandy’ in that grave tone of voice, I’m reasonably certain they’re planning to give me advice I won’t take.”
“I’m not an enemy.”
“I didn’t say you were. But you’re telling me what I should and shouldn’t talk about with friends, and I’ll make that decision for myself. But don’t worry, I promise to give your recommendation due consideration.”
“Thank you,” he said tightly.
“And by the way...apparently you didn’t recognize my visitor’s voice,” Mandy said, struggling to control a smug smile. “It was Susan Russell. She’s a member of the city council, so I doubt she’s going to believe I have ‘special knowledge’ about any city business.”
“Oh.” Daniel had the good grace to appear embarrassed. “You’re right. Well, have a good weekend.”
She was tempted to call after him with something like “nice booty, Danny,” but thought better of it. Based on his comment about her VW having itchy wheels, he wasn’t totally bereft of a sense of humor, but that didn’t mean it was robust, either. It was yet another reason she shouldn’t spend any time thinking about how the muscles rippled over his shoulders beneath his suit. To her, a great sense of humor was absolutely essential. Even Vince had the ability to laugh...a little.
Mandy popped to her feet and stretched. Ever since Shawn had brought the blackberries earlier in the week, she’d been longing to go berry picking, as well. Now that she’d faithfully finished a few weeks’ quota of paperwork, she was going to do it. Jane had given her several boxes of small canning jars, so she could even make jam. It would be the first time she’d made jam, but it didn’t sound that hard, and she loved trying new things.
CHAPTER FIVE
DANIEL WORKED UNTIL nearly six that evening, reviewing his handwritten notes about the city council meeting, along with his initial impressions of the people and their reactions. Finally, he put the notebook into his briefcase, figuring everyone else at City Hall had already left for the weekend. Fortunately, the custodian locked the exits at five every afternoon, so employees who departed after hours only had to make sure the door was latched behind them.
He drove to his house to change into his running clothes. He’d found a fitness trail at the county park, which was close to town. His daily runs helped ease his tensions, though he usually saw someone who knew him. Obviously, that was to be expected in such a small community.
In any case, there wasn’t much else to do in Willow’s Eve except read. He hadn’t brought a television, so wouldn’t have one until the movers arrived. He’d already finished the few books he’d brought with him—mostly he’d filled the SUV with more practical items. But the house had a formal library, and while the shelves had largely been emptied, there were a few volumes left. Primarily the classics, but that was okay. He had been in high school the last time he’d read David Copperfield or Moby Dick.
It was almost disappointing that Mr. Spock hadn’t come for a visit, but Daniel wasn’t sure if it was the cat’s presence or the anticipation of returning him to Mandy that was the draw. Not that it was necessary to personally carry the cat home; he could simply urge him out the door.
Once in his running clothes and shoes, Daniel drove south out of town to Pioneer Memorial Park. Ironically, he spotted Mandy’s VW Bug in the lot. There was no way they could avoid crossing paths outside of
work, but tonight wasn’t an ideal occasion. He winced at the memory of their discussion earlier that afternoon—he hadn’t recognized Susan Russell’s voice and must have sounded idiotic warning Mandy to be careful about discussing the water project with her.
It was good advice in general, but lousy timing. Besides, he didn’t actually know Mandy wouldn’t be careful, and she plainly hadn’t appreciated his comments, however well-intentioned. She had put up her chin in a manner that reminded him of a boxer preparing for a punch.
Why she was so defensive?
He did a series of stretching exercises before setting off on the trail, zoning out on everything except the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the earth. In a much better frame of mind after an hour, he slowed and walked the last quarter mile to cool off.
Mandy was standing by a cluster of bushes beside the trail, picking something from the branches. Before then, he’d seen her only at a distance.
She glanced up as he neared. “Hi.”
“Hello. What are you doing?” he asked.
“Picking huckleberries. I planned to get blackberries, but since I didn’t suit up for war, decided to go for the less bountiful and less dangerous fruit.”
“War?”
“Have you ever seen blackberry bushes? They’re covered with thorns—even their leaves have these little hooks on the back. My work clothes are pretty casual, but I’ve got some old stuff I’d rather sacrifice to the cause. I take it you’ve never gone berry picking?”
“’Fraid not. I grew up in the city.”
“My folks didn’t introduce me to it, either. Some friends did a few years ago, when I spent a summer working at a county park. I was that person you see in the little booth, the one who takes money and gives out the map and directions.”
“You must not have liked the job,” he said politely.
“What gives you that idea?”
“You aren’t still working there.”
She blinked. The early evening sunlight emphasized the amazing green color of her eyes.
Until She Met Daniel Page 7