About That Man

by Sherryl Woods

  “Saw ’em in here myself on Saturday,” Pete Yates said.

  Pete had retired from the insurance business and obviously had way too much time on his hands, in King’s opinion. “Did you now?”

  “What’s up with that? Looked mighty cozy if you ask me. Had the kid with ’em, just like they were a family.”

  “Watch your mouth, old man,” King snapped. “There’s nothing going on between Daisy and that Ames fellow. His nephew’s staying with her for the time being. That’s it.”

  “Way I heard it, the uncle’s staying with her, too. You saying that’s not so?” Donnie Williams asked.

  Donnie had had three wives, so his self-righteous tone grated on King’s nerves.

  King glowered at his companions. “He’s a guest in her home. You want to make something out of that?”

  “Of course not,” Donnie said, backing down at once because he needed King’s business at his feed and grain store. “Everybody around here knows Daisy is as fine a woman as there is.”

  King nodded in satisfaction. “All right, then. I don’t want to hear anybody suggesting otherwise.”

  “Of course not,” Pete said, head bobbing like one of those ridiculous toys people stuck in the windows of their cars.

  “Absolutely,” Donnie echoed.

  King sat back, satisfied that for the moment he’d put the rumors to rest. Of course, they weren’t going to stay dead long, not the way the old ladies in this town liked to talk. And the men were just as bad. He had the proof of that right in front of him.

  As long as that man was showing up every weekend and Daisy was traipsing around town with him, there was going to be talk. If it reached the members of the school board, who knew what could happen? The morality of teachers could be a hot-button topic, especially around election time. King was pretty sure he could protect Daisy’s job, but he didn’t want to have to put his influence to the test. Something had to be done before things got that far along, and he thought he knew what.

  The minute he left Earlene’s, he headed for the Social Services building looking for Frances. She could put an end to this right here and now. She’d do it, too, unless she wanted to start her retirement in the very near future.

  He found her behind a desk stacked high with paperwork, yammering into the phone about something that couldn’t be half as important as what he had to discuss. He lowered himself into the chair opposite her, waited impatiently for her to notice him, then finally said, “Hang up the blasted phone, woman. We have things to talk about.”

  “Excuse me,” she said quietly to whomever she’d been talking to. Her gaze lifted to clash with King’s as she added pointedly, “A rather obnoxious man seems to be trying to get my attention.”

  “Obnoxious? Obnoxious?” King sputtered. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “If the shoe fits,” she declared. “Now, settle back, King, I’ll be finished here in a minute. If you’re in such an all-fired hurry that you can’t wait, then ask to speak to somebody who isn’t busy.”

  King sat back and fumed. The gall of the woman. Nobody talked to King Spencer like that. Nobody! Of course, the truth was Frances always had had a lot of sass and vinegar about her. She’d told him off the first day of kindergarten and hadn’t let up since.

  She’d been Frances Riley back then. There were folks around who’d thought she’d been sweet on him, but King had known better. Frances had never had eyes for anybody but Skeet Jackson. The man had turned out to be a damned fine mechanic, but he’d had a bad ticker. Died and left Frances a widow before her fiftieth birthday. They’d never had any kids of their own, which, based on the way King was feeling about his offspring these days, could have been a blessing.

  He studied Frances as she deliberately dragged out her conversation just to annoy him. Still a fine-looking woman, he decided. The fact that her hair had gone white aged her some, but that didn’t bother him. At their age he didn’t see a lot of reason for pretending that time hadn’t passed by. And, to tell the truth, he liked a female with a little meat on her bones. Who wanted to go to bed and tangle with a bunch of bony elbows and knees?

  The instant he realized where his thoughts had drifted, he caught himself. What business did he have thinking about Frances that way? He was here to talk her into handling this mess with Daisy, not to ask her out to dinner at the Moose Lodge.

  He was still a little flustered by those unexpectedly wayward thoughts when she finally hung up the phone and asked what she could do for him. If he’d answered with the first thing that popped into his head, she’d probably call Tucker and insist he be locked away for psychiatric evaluation. She’d be right to do it, too.

  “We have to talk about Daisy,” he said, when he could finally clamp down on his wild ideas. There were years of bad blood between the Rileys and the Spencers over which family had gotten to Trinity Harbor first. He certainly wasn’t going to be the one to try to bridge that gap.

  “Why?” Frances asked, being deliberately obtuse.

  “That boy doesn’t belong with her.”

  Frances regarded him with mild interest. “Is that so?”

  “Don’t patronize me. You know it and I know it.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. Daisy is a perfectly fit foster parent. And she wants him there.”

  “Do you know what people are saying about her?”

  “No, but I imagine you’re going to tell me,” she said with a resigned expression. “Though I never thought I’d live to see the day when King Spencer went around spreading idle gossip about a member of his own family.”

  “I’m not spreading it,” he retorted. “I’m telling you so you’ll do something to stop it.”

  “You, of all people, ought to know you can’t stop people from talking.”

  “You can if you don’t give them anything to talk about.”

  “What exactly has Daisy done that’s so wrong?”

  He scowled at her. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Since I don’t get it, then, yes, you do.”

  He frowned at that. “You don’t think she’s doing anything wrong?”

  “Frankly, no.”

  “That man is living with her,” he said. “She’s a single woman, and that man, that stranger, has moved in with her.”

  Frances chuckled. “So, that’s what’s really got your goat. You don’t like Walker Ames. Why? Is it something personal or is it just because he’s from Washington?”

  King shuddered at the reminder. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

  “From all I hear, he’s an outstanding policeman. It’s an honorable profession. Your own son is a sheriff. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Could it be the fact that Walker is a very desirable, very sexy, very available man?”

  “Frances!” King couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d uttered a profanity.

  “Well, he is. I’m fifty-nine. I’m not blind or dead.”

  “Ladies don’t discuss such things.”

  Her burst of laughter mocked him.

  “Well, they don’t,” he blustered.

  “And I suppose fine gentlemen such as yourself don’t sit down at Earlene’s and ogle the summer tourists in their shorts and tight T-shirts, commenting on the likelihood of silicone implants.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, wondering if God would strike him dead on the spot for the blatant lie.

  “King Spencer, you are such a liar,” Frances scolded. “Shame on you. That’s the only reason you men go in there. It’s certainly not for Earlene’s coffee. She hasn’t brewed a decent pot in twenty years.”

  Unfortunately, she was right about that, King conceded. Not that he intended to admit it aloud.

  “We’re getting off the subject here,” he said instead. “What are you going to do about saving my daughter’s reputation?”

  “Nothing,” she said mildly.

  “Nothing?”

&n
bsp; “That’s what I said. Maybe if you defended Daisy, instead of running around behind her back acting as if she’s doing something wrong, her reputation wouldn’t be in danger in the first place. People around here take their cues from you, though I can’t imagine why.”

  “Spencers have always set a good example,” he said proudly.

  “Which is exactly what Daisy’s doing. She’s doing a good deed, King. She took in a little boy who had no one. She’s giving him the love he needs so desperately after losing his mama. And she’s providing a home for him until things can be worked out between him and an uncle he didn’t even know he had. You tell me where the shame is in that.”

  Put that way, King didn’t have a response. He still didn’t like it, but it didn’t sound so bad when Frances described what Daisy was doing.

  “If she gets hurt, I’m holding you responsible,” he said as he rose to his feet.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, clearly unintimidated.

  He made his way to the door of her office, then turned back. “You busy tomorrow night?”

  Her gaze shot up. “What?”

  “Are you deaf, woman?” he snapped, already regretting his impulse. “I asked if you were busy tomorrow.”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’ve heard you like to play bingo. Never understood it myself, but I’d be willing to take you.”

  He saw her lips twitch, but she managed to keep a straight face, which kept him from bolting out of there without waiting to see if she said yes or no.

  “How could I possibly refuse such a gracious invitation?” she said. “The game’s in Colonial Beach at the Rescue Squad.”

  “Long way to go for a game,” he grumbled.

  She did laugh then. “King, it’s little wonder you never married again after Mary Margaret died. No other woman would put up with you.”

  “Don’t go getting any ideas about changing me,” he said.

  “Of course not,” she said at once. “Only a fool would try to mess with a cantankerous personality that it’s taken fifty-nine years to shape.”

  “You got that right,” King said. He was outside in his truck by the time he realized the woman had insulted him. Worse, he had left without accomplishing a blessed thing to get Daisy’s life straightened out.

  “Daddy’s doing what?” Daisy asked, staring at Anna-Louise in shock when they met for pizza on Monday night.

  “You heard me,” the pastor said. “He’s taking Frances to play bingo in Colonial Beach tomorrow night.”

  Since Anna-Louise was hardly likely to lie about something as mind-boggling as that—or about anything else, for that matter—Daisy supposed she had no choice but to believe her.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “From Frances herself. I think she’s in shock.”

  “She must be, if she said yes. I thought those two hated each other.”

  Anna-Louise grinned. “Hate is often just the flip side of love. All that passion roiling around inside.”

  Daisy frowned at her. “Should you be talking about passion?”

  “Absolutely,” Richard said, slipping into the booth beside his wife and giving her a very thorough kiss. “She’s a minister, not a saint. More importantly, she is my incredibly sexy wife.”

  “I don’t want to know this,” Daisy said. “I never once even thought about what sort of love life Pastor Duncan had.”

  “He was seventy-five when he retired and looked like a cherub,” Richard pointed out.

  Daisy nodded. “Exactly. Can we please change the subject? Maybe talk about walking the straight and narrow?”

  Richard regarded her with evident fascination. “Why? Are you thinking of venturing off that path? With Walker, perhaps?”

  Anna-Louise poked her elbow sharply into his ribs.

  “Hey,” he protested. “I like the guy, even if he did run off with my wife the first time we met.”

  “Did we come here for pizza or did we come here to gossip?” Anna-Louise asked, frowning at her husband.

  “I don’t gossip,” Richard said, clearly offended. “I report facts.”

  “Well, none of this is suitable for next week’s edition,” Daisy said, looking across the Italian restaurant to see what Tommy was up to. He’d joined friends at the video machines the minute they’d arrived. As near as she could tell, they were all around his age, so there was little likelihood that these were the culprits involved in the discussion of drugs.

  “How are things going with Tommy?” Anna-Louise asked, her gaze following Daisy’s.

  “Well enough. He’s got a real case of hero worship on Walker.”

  “And how is his uncle taking that?” Anna-Louise asked.

  “I’m not sure he’s even aware of it. Sometimes I catch him looking at Tommy as if he can’t quite believe that he’s his nephew. They’ll be doing really well together, and then it’s like this wall goes up between them.”

  “Walker’s doing?” Anna-Louise guessed.

  Daisy nodded. “I think he’s afraid to get close. I get the feeling he was never all that close to his parents. He cared about Beth, but he couldn’t stop her from running off with Tommy’s father. His wife left him and took his kids. I think he feels himself starting to care about Tommy, and then he shuts down because nobody in his life’s had much staying power. Of course, he blames himself for that.”

  “Typical,” Anna-Louise said. “If he’s lost a lot of people he cared about, he’s not going to risk himself by getting close to Tommy.” She looked pointedly at Daisy. “Or anyone else.”

  “What are you implying?” Daisy asked, wondering how Anna-Louise could possibly have picked up on any vibes between her and Walker.

  “Nothing. It’s just that I’ve met the man. He’s very attractive. Since you’re my friend, I thought it appropriate to issue a fair warning.”

  “Okay, then. Message received,” Daisy said. “I don’t have any illusions about Walker.”

  “I hope not,” Anna-Louise said, regarding her worriedly. “This situation is volatile enough as it is.”

  Daisy frowned at her. “Why? Because for once in my life I might take a chance and put my heart on the line?”

  “With Tommy or Walker?” Anna-Louise asked.

  Daisy avoided a direct answer. “Look, just because I’ve tried to help a little boy who needs someone in his life doesn’t mean I’m going to throw caution to the wind in general. Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always preaching that anything worthwhile in life is worth risking a little pain?”

  “I’ve heard you say that,” Richard agreed.

  “Throwing my own words back in my face, how rotten is that?” Anna-Louise protested. “Okay, I won’t say another word. You do whatever you need to do, whatever you think is right, whatever you think will make you happy.”

  “And you won’t say ‘I told you so’ when it all falls apart, right?” Daisy said, grinning.

  “I never agreed to that,” Anna-Louise said. “To quote my handsome husband, I’m a minister, not a saint.”

  But despite the teasing, Daisy knew perfectly well that Anna-Louise would be the first one there to support her if her life ended up spinning wildly out of control, even if it was her own doing.

  14

  Saturday morning, with Walker’s likely arrival still hours away, Daisy sat on the back deck with a cup of tea and studied her yard. She’d been so busy the last couple of weeks that she hadn’t had time to plan her garden, and it was past time to get started. Her rose bushes needed pruning and fertilizing, and the beds that usually held neat rows of pale pink and white impatiens should be mulched. The warm weather was holding well enough now for the flowers to be set out. And the honeysuckle was twining around places it had no business going, which meant she needed to start her annual war against that before it took over everything.

  Normally she loved this time of year. She liked digging in the warm, dark, rich soil, feeling the sun on her shoulders. She even liked the way her mus
cles ached after working outdoors all day with pruning shears, a hoe and a trowel. And that battle with the honeysuckle was a test of wills she enjoyed winning.

  Today, though, as she considered doing the same old predictable thing, it didn’t hold the usual appeal. Why shouldn’t she scatter wildflower seeds instead? Or maybe mix bright red and orange zinnias with purple cosmos? Let the honeysuckle run amok? Why shouldn’t she shock everyone with a garden that was as wild and untamed as her emotions?

  “Why not?” she asked aloud.

  Filled with determination, she marched into the house, shouting for Tommy as she rinsed her cup and left it on the counter to dry. Even that was a tiny act of rebellion. Usually she insisted dishes be dried and put away after every use. A tidy kitchen was a symbol of respectability. Housekeeper after housekeeper at Cedar Hill had drilled that into her.

  Of course, given the way Walker was dominating her thoughts these days, she concluded that her days of respectability were numbered. Hopefully, anyway.

  “What’s up?” Tommy asked, regarding her with a puzzled expression as he wandered into the kitchen.

  “We’re going shopping.”

  Alarm flared in his eyes, and his expression turned stormy. “But Uncle Walker will be here soon.”

  “He has a key, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a little time to himself to unwind.”

  “But he’s coming to see me,” Tommy protested.

  “And he will see you,” she said. “When we get back.” She shooed him toward the door. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be home.”

  Dragging his feet, his expression sullen, Tommy followed her to the car. “I don’t see why we have to go somewhere now,” he grumbled as she backed out of the driveway. “Why can’t I stay here and wait?”

  “Because I can use your help,” she said flatly.

  Tommy studied her intently, then asked, “Are you mad about something?”

  “No,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I intend to have a very good day. I can’t wait to get to the nursery.”

  “Nursery? We’re going to see a bunch of babies?” he asked, clearly shocked.