“It’s beautiful. But what are you doing dressed like this?”
“Promoting the Chamber of Commerce Haunted Rivelou Tours. It was my idea and my boss loved it so much he put me in charge. He said I was just the right person to pull it off,” she exclaimed.
“I’m sure he did,” Ana replied dryly. Beside her, Alexander cleared his throat. “Oh, Alexander, please meet my sister, Jennifer Bertrand. She just got a job in the marketing department of the Chamber of Commerce.”
“And Grandpa is here, too. He offered to help me out with the tours. He knows all the best ghost stories,” Jennifer added to Alexander.
Could the afternoon get any more embarrassing? Apparently it could. Ana’s grandfather, a tall and imposing man at any time, came out of the booth just as that moment. He was dressed as Abraham Lincoln. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Hank Bertrand, and you are?”
Her grandfather so pointedly looked Alexander over that Ana hoped a sink hole would suddenly develop and swallow her. But Alexander didn’t seem to mind this sudden swarm of relatives.
“I’m Alexander Fontaine. I’m a professor of anthropology at the University of Rivelou. I’m working with your delightful granddaughter on a project right now,” he responded, shaking Hank’s hand. “She has mentioned you and I was hoping to meet you. I understand you know many of the local legends of the area.”
“Alexander Fontaine? You have the same name as the author of the Legends series. I just love those books. You wouldn’t be related, would you?”
“Well, as a matter of fact I am the author,” Alexander said with a smirk.
“You’re kidding. Alexander Fontaine right here in our little city. You aren’t planning to write a book about Rivelou, are you? There’s a lot of stories around here. Come on into our booth and have a sit down. I’ll be happy to talk about the old stories with you. What would you like to know?” Hank began to escort Alexander toward the Chamber of Commerce stall and its two chairs.
Ana finally managed to unfreeze herself. This was terrible. Her grandfather and Dr. Alexander Fontaine together. She wasn’t sure which one would eat the other alive. Grandpa could play the affable country bumpkin. That’s what he was doing right now. She’d seen it before. Not just with Jonathan, but with every date she or Jennifer had brought home from the time they were freshmen in high school. It’s a wonder she’d ever had a date all, she thought now.
And if she hadn’t eloped, she was sure Jonathan would never have had the courage to marry her. Grandpa had always intimidated Jonathan. In fact, he was one of the few people who could intimidate her ex-husband. When he had first met Grandpa, Jonathan, like most people, had thought he was just a genial old man; a storyteller who loved to talk about the legends of Rivelou. Yes, Grandpa always started out lulling people with his charming, old-fashioned, country ways. And then, snap. He chewed them up and spit him out.
No, Hank Bertrand was not a man to be underestimated. Ana knew he’d always had a soft spot for her, his eldest granddaughter. And she had thought that would be enough to win him over the first time she brought Jonathan home. But there was another side to him, too. A side she had seen only a few times, such as that night when she had surprised the family by bringing home her new husband and announcing she was pregnant.
The genial old man had quickly turned into a Biblical-style patriarch. He hadn’t approved of Jonathan. He wasn’t “their kind,” he had told her. Well, in the end, grandpa had been right. Still, she didn’t want to subject Alexander to that kind of scrutiny. She was working with him, nothing more.
“Grandpa, I’m sure this isn’t the right time. Alexander probably has other things to do this afternoon,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being rude, taking you away from your time with my granddaughter,” he said with a wink at Alexander. “You have her give you my phone number and we’ll get together sometime next week. I’d very much like to talk to you. But right now, you kids have a good time this afternoon,” he said.
What rabbit hole had she just fallen in? Grandpa had just called a distinguished professor and nationally-known author a “kid” and had almost thrown him at his granddaughter. “Well,” she thought to herself, “I won’t a look a gift horse in the mouth,” and quickly herded Alexander away from the Chamber of Commerce stall and her family.
“I am so sorry for that. My family, particularly my grandfather and sister, can be a little, well a little…”
“Spontaneous?” Alexander laughed.
“Thank you for putting it so nicely.”
“I would very much like to have your grandfather’s phone number. I do want to discuss local folklore with him. I’ve been trying to get an introduction to someone like him ever since I moved here. I didn’t know that all I had to do was to meet you.” Alexander stopped at they neared the parking lot and took her hand. “But before I dive into tales of ghosts and werewolves with your grandfather, why don’t you and I have dinner this evening?”
“Oh my lord, it’s almost four o’clock,” Ana exclaimed, as she pulled out her phone to check the time. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m sorry I can’t have dinner with you. I’ve got to go. I almost forgot I have a date tonight.”
“Should I be jealous that you have a date, or happy that spending the afternoon with me made you forget about this other man? You must give me a rain check for our date. How is tomorrow evening?”
Ana was about to automatically say no when she realized that for once she had both Saturday and Sunday evenings free. Two dates in one weekend? This kind of thing used to happen to the old Ana, the pre-Jonathan Ana, not to responsible, serious, single mom Ana. She took a deep breath.
“I’d love to,” she said.
“Then I will see you tomorrow at seven o’clock and we’ll go to dinner.”
Chapter 11
Ana hurried home. Chris was picking her up at six. She wanted time to pamper herself a bit and make herself feel pretty before he arrived. In her kitchen she put the flowers Alexander had given her in a vase on the kitchen table and sat down to polish her nails while she turned her attention to the all-important question of what to wear.
It had been a long time since she had been on a date. She could call Monica for advice, but somehow she wasn’t ready to share her excitement with anyone right now, not even Monica or Lindsey. She felt as giddy as a teenager getting ready for the prom.
There was a problem, however, she realized. She hadn’t thought to ask Chris where they were going. Should she dress for the local pizza parlor or a downtown restaurant?
She finally decided on a pair of dark leggings, high heeled, black booties, and a white lacy top with a matching sweater in case the evening became chilly. It was casual but dressy, and she felt that she was covered for most of the restaurants in town. There weren’t really that many, after all. Rivelou was just big enough to call itself a city rather than a town, but that still didn’t mean it was a very large place. There were the usual handful of chain restaurants scattered around the mall, a couple of pubs and businessmen’s type restaurants downtown, the casino which cruised the river nightly, and that was about it.
Rivelou was just big enough to have one of almost everything you needed, just not everything you wanted. And that was another problem; the size of town meant she was almost sure to run into someone she knew. It was difficult not to in Rivelou, particularly if your maiden name was Bertrand. She had enough relatives and family friends she could almost be certain to run into someone she knew, who would then mention it to one of her relatives, who would then mention it to her grandfather, no matter where Chris took her.
Monica always joked you could never gossip about anyone in Rivelou because you never knew when you were talking to someone’s cousin or sister or next door neighbor. Of course, that never stopped Monica from gossiping. And somehow, even though she’d only lived in Rivelou for five years, she not only knew everyone’s cousins, sisters, and neighbors, but also the best gossip about them all.
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It seemed unfair that Monica heard all the gossip when, as a life-long resident of Rivelou, Ana had cousins, aunts, uncles, two brothers, a sister, parents and grandparents, not to mention dozens of assorted friends and acquaintances running all the way back to kindergarten. Why did Monica hear every interesting piece of news before Ana?
Well, news flash! Ana planned to surprise Monica on Monday. Ana Dugan had two dates in one weekend. Who would ever have believed it?
Her thoughts had run full circle when the doorbell rang and she headed to the front door to let Chris in. He cleaned up well. He’d traded the rumpled khakis for a pair of grey dress slacks and the plaid flannel for a blue Oxford shirt. It was a contrast to the designer jeans and fitted turtleneck Alexander had worn so elegantly that afternoon, and Ana grinned at Chris’s obvious discomfort at dressing up even this much. She thought he looked like a puppy dog who’d just had a collar put on him for the first time. She could almost see him squirming. Or maybe it wasn’t his discomfort with the clothing, but the whole dating thing. He held out a cheerful bouquet of brightly colored chrysanthemums and sunflowers.
“They’re beautiful. We have the same taste,” Ana laughed, leading him into the kitchen, where sitting on the table was the bouquet of the exact same flowers Alexander had bought for her that afternoon at the farmer’s market. No need, she quickly decided, to mention she hadn’t chosen them herself. And thank goodness she hadn’t run into Chris at the market, also, since it was obvious he had been there. Running into her family had been bad enough.
Chris’s face fell when he saw the other bouquet. “Oh, you already have some.”
“Not a problem. I love flowers—the more the better. Now that I have enough for two vases, they’ll look great on the mantel in the living room.”
Ana quickly pulled out another glass vase, added water, and arranged the flowers. “There, you carry this one and I’ll take the other,” she said, leading him back to the living room. “They look gorgeous together. You can never have enough flowers. Thank you so much.”
“Glad you like them. Um…are you ready for dinner?” From Chris’ stumbling manner it was clear he was no more used to going on dates than she was, Ana thought. It made her feel more sure of herself.
“I thought we’d go to Flannery’s,” Chris continued. “My sister says the food is good and the atmosphere is casual, but quiet. I haven’t been here in town long enough to really try out many of the restaurants myself.”
“I’ve been to Flannery’s. It’s quite nice and they are known for their excellent steaks,” she said as they headed to Chris’ car.
Flannery’s was a family-owned restaurant that had been in Rivelou for decades. Located downtown on the river, it had a quiet atmosphere and simple, excellent food. The walls were paneled, the booths were deep, comfortable, and private. The ambiance was that of an old boys’ club, and it had a reputation as the place where business deals, and private trysts, occurred.
Night was falling as they got to the restaurant, and with the help of a few outdoor heaters, it was warm enough for them to sit on the outdoor patio. They watched the lights of barges heading down the river. The riverboat gambling casino, lighted from smokestack to paddlewheel, was just heading out for the evening cruise. Several couples and families strolled along the riverfront sidewalk.
“There won’t be many more nights this beautiful and warm,” Ana said.
“Or with so large and beautiful a moon. Not quite full anymore. A waning moon.”
“You are interested in the moon? I’ve always had a feeling for the moon and its phases, too. They regulate so many things in our lives. Most people don’t realize how much the moon affects everything around them,” Ana replied.
“You’re right. They don’t. The moon controls a lot more in our lives than most people realize,” Chris agreed, then made one of his quick changes of subject; something Ana was, almost, getting used to. “I’m definitely enjoying the warm evenings here. In Chicago the restaurants have already closed their outdoor seating areas.”
“Is that where you are from?”
“Most recently, yes. That’s where I have an apartment. I tend to travel a lot for my work, and I just keep a small home base in Chicago.”
“I realize I hardly know anything about you.”
“There’s not that much to tell,” he countered.
“Well, you said you are a consultant. On what do you consult?” she asked, lightly. It was the oldest rule in the book: Men love to talk about themselves. But somehow, whenever she asked Chris anything personal he always became evasive and quickly found a new topic.
“I guess you could say I’m a troubleshooter.”
“Well that sounds interestingly vague. What kind of trouble do you shoot for people?”
He laughed at her joke. “It depends. I have a varied client base and I help them with whatever phenomena are a problem for them.”
“Phenomena? That’s an intriguing way to describe a client’s problem, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What’s another word for ‘phenomena?’ ‘Singularities,’ maybe? Doesn’t everyone find their own problems to be singular?”
“So what type of singular problems do your clients have?” Ana persisted.
“It’s really rather boring, actually. Why don’t you tell me more about what you do at the university? You said you work in the history department, right?”
Ana gave up her questions and told Chris about her work. After all, the old saying worked for women, too. People enjoy talking about themselves. She mentioned her new assignment, the seminar she was working on with Alexander.
“Professor Alexander Fontaine? I think I’ve heard of him. Doesn’t he write a lot of books about the paranormal?”
“Well, that’s only a part of it. He’s an anthropology professor. He studies supernatural beliefs and how they affect people in their everyday lives.” Ana suddenly realized she was repeating, almost word for word, the lecture Alexander had given to her and Monica just a few days ago. She’d found it a little pompous at the time; now here she was using it to explain the man. But why should she have to explain Alexander Fontaine to Chris? It’s not like they were ever going to meet each other. At least she hoped not.
“It sounds interesting,” Chris said, obviously unaware of the line that Ana’s thoughts had just taken. “So you are interested in the paranormal?”
“Well, when you call it that, it sounds so silly. But as I was telling Alexander, my family has lived here for generations, and I grew up hearing so many of the local legends. I guess an interest in stories and legends runs in my blood. In fact, my sister and my grandfather have somehow managed to get involved in running a Rivelou Ghost Tour throughout the month of October.”
“Sounds fascinating. I’ll have to go on it. Would you like to come with me?”
“On a Ghost Tour run by my grandfather? I’m not sure it sounds like a great second date,” she laughed.
“You might be right,” Chris said ruefully. “In fact, considering how we met, maybe we should try something with bright lights and loud music, rather than a walk in the dark.”
Yes, I suppose that is the elephant in the room tonight, isn’t it? We are both wondering if the police have learned anything more about the attack and the killing. Have you heard anything?”
“No, and I don’t expect we will, unless it is on the news. I’ve never found the police to be interested in sharing information.”
“Did you get a good look at it? The dog?” Ana asked.
“Not really. It was large and dark. Other than that, I was too busy trying to keep it from biting one of us, and then wiping mace out of my eyes,” Chris teased.
“Oh, you had to bring that up again,” Ana said, laughing.
“The cop, Detective Sawyer, asked me if I could describe the dog. It had bright blue eyes. Did you notice that, Ana?” Chris looked at her intently as he asked the question.
“I guess I wasn’t really worrying about
its eye color at the time,” she replied, then wondered why she didn’t just tell him that she, too, had noticed the unusual color of the animal’s eyes. Her ingrained instinct for secrecy, she supposed.
“Bright blue. It didn’t really look like a dog to me. It looked like a really large wolf. Did the police mention that to you? That it might have been a wolf? What do you think?”
Chris was looking at her very intently as if her answer was somehow important to him.
“A wolf,” she replied, keeping her expression neutral.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Well, not really. Like you said, the detective did mention something about a wolf to me, too. Did he get the idea from you?”
“Yes, he probably did.”
“Actually, I had the impression he was wondering if you owned the wolf—the dog—whatever it was.” She found herself stumbling over words, trying to ensure that she chose the right one in this suddenly dangerous conversation.
“Really? Well, I guess they might wonder if somehow I was involved.”
“Why in the world would they think that? What would you have to do with a stray dog—or wolf—or whatever?”
“You don’t know, then. I thought the detective might have mentioned it. That’s why my sister moved to Rivelou from the Chicago area. Last year her husband, Jason—he was also a police officer—was killed on duty.”
“That’s terrible. But what does that have to do with a dog killing a man here in Rivelou?”
“Well, that’s just it. That’s how Jason was killed. By a dog. A large, black dog that some witnesses said looked just like a wolf.”
Chapter 12
After dinner Chris proposed a stroll on the river, but somehow his revelation about the death of his brother-in-law had put a damper on the evening. A moonlight stroll no longer sounded romantic. She suggested he just take her home. Chris walked her to door and kissed her tenderly goodnight.
“Would you like to come in?”
The Patient Wolf (Wicked Urban Fantasy #1) Page 6