by Gina Wilkins
And why did he keep feeling that there was something else going on with Lindsey? Something he wasn’t sure he had the courage to confront openly?
Because it seemed less complicated to deal with an out-of-control arsonist just then than a bewilderingly volatile reporter, he turned his full attention back to Polly. He took her through the entire conversation again, trying to unearth any hint about the caller’s identity. But she couldn’t remember anything more than she’d already told him.
They’d just reviewed the call a third time when Polly’s parents rushed in, terrified that Dan’s car in their driveway at that hour meant something awful had happened. Dan reassured them quickly, but then he felt obligated to tell them everything. They had a right to know their daughter had stumbled into an investigation. He warned them to keep it quiet, letting them know that Polly’s safety could depend on their discretion, the most effective argument he could have used to guarantee their cooperation.
“One word about this to anyone,” he added, pointing a finger sternly at his sister, “and I’ll seal your mouth shut with duct tape. Got that?”
Polly giggled. Her father chuckled. Tina rolled her eyes. But no one expressed the slightest skepticism that Dan would follow through on the threat if he decided it was necessary.
If there was one place Lindsey did not want to be Sunday afternoon, it was a baby shower. And yet there she sat in Serena’s living room, watching their very round friend Claudia Franklin open gift after gift while a surrounding crowd of women oohed and aahed at appropriate moments.
“How does Stephanie feel about getting a little brother?” someone asked the mother-to-be.
Claudia smiled and idly touched her bulging stomach. “She’s excited. She says she’s looking forward to helping take care of him.”
Lucy Crews, a mother of four, laughed wryly. “Wait until you see how fast that changes.”
Sitting on the couch beside Lindsey, Marjorie Schaffer turned to hand her one of the gifts that was being passed around the room for everyone to admire. “More little blankets,” Serena’s mother murmured. “Claudia’s going to have a closet full of them.”
Lindsey made appropriately appreciative noises over the soft pastel blankets, then passed them on. “It’s a very nice shower,” she commented to Marjorie. “I know Claudia appreciates you and Serena doing this.”
“We enjoy entertaining. And besides,” Marjorie added in an undertone, “I’m hoping a baby shower will give Serena and Cameron ideas.”
“Honestly, Marjorie, they haven’t even been married a full six months yet.”
“I know.” The older woman sighed wistfully. “But I can’t wait to have grandchildren. And since Kara has no interest in motherhood, it’s up to Serena.”
“How does Serena feel about you pushing her for grandchildren?”
Marjorie managed to laugh and grimace at the same time. “I haven’t said much to her about it, of course. Only an occasional hint. But fortunately I know she and Cameron want a child fairly soon, so I’ll try to be patient.”
They admired the next gift—a tiny sleeper and bib set—then passed it on. “How is Kara?” Lindsey asked about Marjorie’s older daughter. “Have you heard from her lately?”
“Oh, she’s fine. She absolutely loves living in Nashville. And her fiancé’s doing very well with his singing career. He just signed his first recording contract, you know.”
“I can’t wait to hear Pierce singing on the radio.”
“Wouldn’t that be lovely? Kara’s so confident he’s going to be a big country star.”
“Then he has a good chance. Having someone who believes in you and supports you is half the battle.”
Lindsey hadn’t realized how much wistfulness had crept into her voice until Marjorie searched her face and laid a hand on her arm. “Would you like to help me in the kitchen, dear? We’re having punch and cake as soon as Claudia opens all her gifts.”
“Sure. I’d be happy to help.”
They made their way through the crowd of laughing, chattering women and into the blessed quiet of the kitchen. Marjorie opened the refrigerator door and peered in, shaking her head. “Cameron rearranged everything in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago and neither Serena nor I have been able to find anything since.”
Lindsey smiled, thinking of her editor’s occasional, almost manic bursts of energy. He said mindless activity helped him think when he needed to solve a problem or make tough decisions—both situations he had faced regularly since taking over the struggling small-town newspaper his wife’s family had founded two generations earlier. Lindsey knew it hadn’t been easy for Cameron to move from a reporting job in Dallas to a managing editor position in Edstown, but he seemed to be thriving on the challenge—and so was the newspaper.
“So how’s it working out for you?” she asked Marjorie. “Living in the guest house, I mean?”
Setting covered trays on the counter, Marjorie dived into the fridge again. “It’s working out very well, actually. The arrangement gives us all privacy when we need it, and yet we’re still very close—which I like. It’s funny. My husband built that nice little house for my mother. Now they’re both gone and I’m the aging mother-in-law living in the guest house.”
Lindsey looked up from arranging canapés to give Marjorie an affectionately chiding look. “You’re hardly an old woman.”
“Thank you, sweetie. But I’m still older than your own mother would have been, God rest her soul, so I can’t help feeling quite maternal toward you. I have a feeling something’s bothering you tonight, Lindsey. Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?”
Apparently, Lindsey’s emotions were visible to everyone except Dan. “I’m just a little stressed right now. Trying to decide what direction to take in my life.”
“I heard you’re thinking about selling your house.”
“Yes. I’ll be talking to a real estate agent next week.”
“Did something happen yesterday to bring you to that decision?”
Lindsey was tempted to tell Marjorie the whole story, but all she said was, “Let’s just say I’m finally learning to accept reality.”
A burst of laughter from the other room made Marjorie glance that way before turning back to Lindsey. “Tell me, dear—have you ever tried telling Dan that you’re in love with him?”
Lindsey had to swallow a couple of times before she could respond to Marjorie’s wholly unexpected question. “How…?”
Marjorie gave her a softly sympathetic smile. “Your mother and I were friends. We were always amused by the obvious crush you had on Dan when you were a little girl. Your mother thought you got over it when Dan married Melanie. I wasn’t so sure. And lately, well…”
Lindsey groaned and covered her cheeks with her hands. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I’ve known you so long. I happened to see you dancing with him at the mixer, and I recognized the look in your eyes. I’m sure it isn’t obvious to everyone.”
“It certainly isn’t to Dan.” Lindsey dropped her hands to her side. “He doesn’t have a clue.”
“Which brings me back to my question. Have you ever tried to tell him?”
“Not in so many words. But I’ve done everything short of that to try to get my point across. I’ve changed my appearance and my behavior—well, most of the time, anyway,” she added, wincing as she remembered the way she’d yelled at him yesterday about not sharing his arson clues with her.
“That could be part of your frustration,” Marjorie suggested. “You want him to admire you for the person you are—not someone you’re pretending to be.”
“You’re right,” Lindsey conceded after a painful moment. How would she really have felt if Dan had suddenly shown interest in her because she’d started painting her face, wearing different clothes and acting as if she needed him to take care of her? What she really wanted was for Dan to appreciate her for what she was—just the way she cared for him, flaws and all.
&nb
sp; Running her hand through her hair, she sighed. “That’s why I’ve decided to leave town. I need to make a fresh start. Move on.”
“Dan was hurt very badly when his marriage broke up. Humiliated, as well. You can’t blame him for being cautious about such things now.”
“I’ve told myself that too many times to count. But it’s been more than two years. He’s had time to recover—he just hasn’t met a woman who makes him want to take the plunge again,” she added sadly.
“Or maybe he just needs a nudge to make him realize that woman has been right in front of him for some time.”
“A nudge? I’ve done everything but hit him upside the head.”
Marjorie looked suddenly thoughtful. “Then maybe you need a little help.”
Lindsey was definitely starting to get nervous. “Um, Marjorie…”
Another burst of laughter announced the arrival of Serena and a couple of her friends. They came into the kitchen talking and reaching for the food, which they carried into the dining room for serving. There wasn’t another chance for Lindsey and Marjorie to talk in private. Lindsey wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or unnerved by that fact. There were a few more things she would have liked to discuss with Marjorie.
Dan looked up from his desk early Monday afternoon to find Lindsey standing in his office doorway. “How did you get past Hazel?” he asked with idle curiosity, very casually sliding the notebook he’d been reading into a desk drawer.
“She’s tied up on the phone. I walked past her. She’ll give me hell when she catches up to me, of course, but I’m used to that.”
Dan shrugged. “She knows I’d escort you out if I didn’t have time to talk to you.”
“But you won’t.” Without waiting for an invitation, Lindsey came into the office and took a seat on the other side of his desk. “What’s going on with Polly?”
Taken by surprise at the mention of his niece’s name, he scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a rumor going around that Polly’s in some sort of trouble.”
Dan muttered a curse, wondering how the hell Lindsey had gotten wind of this. “Where did you hear that?”
“Someone saw Polly come to your place Saturday afternoon, and then you rushed to her house later that night while her parents were out for the evening. Apparently, she was talking on the phone with her friend Jenny and she got another call that freaked her out. She brushed her friend off rather abruptly and only a few minutes later you showed up at her front door.”
The pencil Dan had been holding snapped in two as his grip tightened in frustration. “Damn it. Who’s been watching my niece? And how did you come by this information?”
“It’s a long story.”
He tossed the broken pencil on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “I suddenly have some extra time,” he said, his voice grim.
Shrugging, she mimicked his pose, crossing her arms over her chest. “I stopped by the beauty shop this morning to return a book I’d borrowed from my hairstylist. While I was there, Jane Pulaski said she saw you rush into Polly’s house late Saturday evening—she lives just across the street, you know. She said it wasn’t long after that when Tina and Ron came home and ran inside. She said she called Tina yesterday to find out if everything was all right, and she got the distinct impression that Tina was keeping something from her.”
“Maybe because it was none of her business.”
Lindsey ignored Dan’s muttered comment. “Anyway, your neighbor Mrs. Sturdivant was getting a perm, and she said she saw Polly come to your place earlier Saturday afternoon. She’s Jenny’s grandmother, you know, and she said Jenny worried about Polly all weekend. Jenny said Polly had been acting distracted and a bit nervous about something.”
“Hell, I don’t need untrained investigators on my payroll,” Dan grumbled. “I might as well just talk about all my cases in the beauty parlor and let the women there ferret out the facts.”
What might have been a faint flicker of amusement crossed Lindsey’s face but was gone before Dan could be sure. “I’ve done a little speculation of my own. You came to my house right after Polly visited you. I guessed then that you’d learned something new about the arson investigation. As unlikely as it seems, the obvious conclusion is that Polly somehow stumbled onto a clue.”
While he had to admire her reasoning, Dan was still disgusted that his and his family’s movements were so closely monitored by the local gossips. That was one drawback to small-town life—trading a certain amount of privacy for a sense of community. “Surely you know I wouldn’t confirm that even if it were true.”
“I know you wouldn’t do anything that would put Polly in an awkward situation or jeopardize your investigation. I’m just wondering if there’s something I can do to help stop the rumors that are going around. If I have something factual and low-key to report in this evening’s paper, it could put an end to some of the wilder speculation.”
Dan might have suspected some other reporter of trying to use his feelings for his niece to manipulate him into leaking information. But, as committed to her job as he knew Lindsey to be, he was certain she would never exploit Polly for a story. Her offer to help him dispel the rumors was sincere.
“Off the record,” he said abruptly, “Polly found something that might be linked to the arsons. I don’t want that printed in the paper yet because we’ve just started investigating the clue and I don’t want to jump the gun.”
Lindsey studied his face for a moment in silence before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“There wasn’t any reason to tell you then,” he answered simply. “I didn’t know that Polly’s name had come up around town.”
“I see.” She seemed to withdraw a bit more into herself, her expression completely closed to him—as it had been so often lately.
Dan wondered somberly how it could be that the longer he knew Lindsey, the more time he spent with her, the more she seemed to be a stranger to him. It was becoming harder for him to think of her as the little girl who’d tagged at his and B.J.’s heels all those years ago. That red-pigtailed urchin had been replaced by someone new—and somehow he’d missed the transformation until it had already been accomplished.
He supposed he’d been too caught up in his own life—his job, his slow-healing emotional wounds, his badly bruised pride. He’d thought of Lindsey as his pal’s kid sister, his own long-time friend, his professional nemesis—but he was only now beginning to see her as a complex, mercurial, enigmatic woman.
He could even see her now as an attractive and decidedly alluring woman. Damn it.
He was dealing with a lot of emotions about her at the moment, but it seemed easiest to concentrate on the vague sense of guilt that he’d obviously hurt her feelings Saturday. “Look, no matter what I said the other day, it wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t want Polly’s name to come out. I didn’t even tell my own sister about it until I had no other choice. So it wasn’t anything against you personally—as a friend or a reporter.”
“You were doing your job and protecting your niece. I wouldn’t expect anything different from you.”
Somehow her understanding words and her expression didn’t quite match up. But he nodded, deciding not to challenge her about it.
Lindsey rose to her feet. “I won’t interfere with your work any longer. I just have one more question for you—is Polly all right?”
“Polly’s fine,” he assured her, hearing the genuine concern in the question. “And I’ll make certain she stays that way.”
“I’m sure you will.” With that she turned toward the doorway, apparently intending to leave without another word.
“Lindsey—” Dan spoke quickly, prompted by the inexplicable feeling that if she left now, like this, something between them would be forever changed. “Why don’t we have a burger or something this evening after work? I think we need to talk.”
She froze for a moment with her back to him, s
o he couldn’t see her face. When she turned, it was with a bland smile that could have been directed toward a total stranger. “Sorry. I have a date tonight.”
“A date?” He felt his eyebrows lower a bit.
She nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for Polly, okay? And of course you know to notify the newspaper if something comes through on your arson clue.”
She wasn’t going to volunteer details about her plans for the evening, and he wouldn’t ask. None of his business, he told himself. But he couldn’t help being curious about who she was going out with that evening. He knew most of the single guys her age around town—if not personally, then by reputation. He couldn’t think of anyone who seemed like a good match for Lindsey. “Have a good time this evening,” he said, and wished he meant it.
She nodded and left. Dan stared after her for several long moments, knowing he’d been right. Something between them had just been broken.
And it hurt.
Chapter Six
Lindsey was going to have a good time if it killed her. At least, that was what she’d been telling herself ever since she’d impulsively accepted Bo’s invitation to go bowling with him.
He’d called not long after she’d arrived home from the baby shower yesterday. Her first instinct had been to politely decline. But then she remembered her resolve to move on with her life.
Going out with Bo was a first step in that direction. Not that she expected, or even wanted, anything to develop from tonight’s date. But at least she was taking charge of her life again. Putting Dan and her abandoned dreams behind her.
“We should’ve done this a long time ago,” Bo said, giving her one of his lopsided cowboy grins as they laced on bowling shoes.
She knew very well that Bo hadn’t given her a thought in years, not until they’d run into each other at Gaylord’s earlier that month, but she said only, “I haven’t bowled in ages. It’ll be a miracle if I knock down a pin this evening.”
“I imagine you’ll do better than that,” he drawled, setting his boots aside and standing. “Let me help you find a ball.”