by June Faver
Miss Rosie had been the kindest person on the planet. If it weren’t for her, Reggie might not have been given an opportunity to become a member of the Gazette staff at such a young age. Miss Rosie had suggested Reggie might like to submit something for the “younger crowd,” as she’d put it. Miss Rosie must have put in a good word for her because this had led to Reggie being hired on to cover all school athletic events and later assigned to write a weekly column titled Around Town. Reggie also took her turn at writing obituaries and birth and wedding announcements.
Sadly, she had written Miss Rosie’s obituary, cringing when she’d typed in the name of her nephew, Franklin Bell, as her sole living relative.
Miss Rosie’s funeral had been attended by the governor of the state and a couple of past governors. Countless senators and congressmen came to pay their respects. But there was no member of the family to pay their respects to because her only surviving relative was out of the country and couldn’t be bothered to fly back to say a final goodbye to the wonderful lady who had taken over the role of parenting him.
Reggie sniffed, remembering that the loss of his own parents was what had brought Frank to Rambling in the first place. Maybe he’d been depressed when he’d first arrived, but it had come across as a big fat chip on his shoulder.
Now he’d come back to claim all of Miss Rosie’s property. The lovely old Victorian house. The verdant orchards and the vineyard. The businesses…
A cold lump settled in the pit of Reggie’s stomach. The Gazette. Frank Bell had inherited the red-brick building that housed the Gazette. The building had stood in place over a hundred years. It was a monument to the community.
Frank Bell now owns the property. What will that smug bastard do to our building?
She envisioned her fellow staff members suddenly without a job. The community newspaper barely earned enough to keep the doors open, but it was desperately needed.
* * *
A week went by. Reggie Lee saw Frank around town, but he apparently didn’t see her. He zipped around in his silver Beemer, completely oblivious to the chaos he was spreading in her life. Just knowing that he could walk into the newspaper office on any given day and evict the entire newspaper and the staff kept her on edge. He is such a jerk!
Reggie sat at her desk at the Gazette, her fingers fixed on the keyboard of her computer. She needed to create a fluff piece about Sybil Carney’s bridal shower hosted by her sorority sisters at the Grey Moss Inn, one of the longtime advertisers in the Rambling Gazette.
Frank Bell, the complete asshole, could destroy everything she had ever accomplished. That fact knotted her stomach and curled her fingers into fists.
Reggie swallowed the bile gathered at the back of her throat. If he thought he could just waltz into town and crush her dreams without a fight, he had another think coming. Reggie would fight back. She would—
Her shoulders drooped. What could she do? The boy who had been her sworn enemy all through school had grown to be a man, and as a man he held all the cards…at least all the good ones.
What would she do if…no, when he closed the newspaper and sold off the building? What would she do? She had only a high school diploma. All her life she’d lived in a small town. She hadn’t dreamed any bigger.
Now what?
Her eyes darted to the framed photo on her desk. How would she support her daughter?
Chapter 2
Frank took a tour of the vineyard and sampled the wares. Evan Hauser had been one of his running buddies as a teen. Now Evan managed the whole operation from tending the vines to controlling the temperature of the storerooms.
Evan shook his head, a nervous grin on his lips. “Who would have thought?”
Frank paced around the showroom, set up with intimate tables where customers could sample and purchase wines. He stopped, gazing out the front window at the grapevine-carpeted hills.
“I don’t remember the vineyard as being so spread out.”
“It’s been more than a dozen years since high school graduation, Frank. A lot of things have changed.”
Frank turned to survey his old friend. He’d put on a little weight, and his hairline was starting to recede, but it was still Evan, the big guy who had kept Kenny Landers, the school bully, from killing him on a daily basis. Frank grinned. “You’ve worked here since graduation?”
Evan nodded. “Your aunt hired me and a few others for the summer, but I stayed on. She gave me more responsibilities as time went by. The last few years I’ve been running things for her…for you now.” Evan spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all I’ve ever done.”
Frank ran his fingers through his hair. Responsibilities. He swallowed convulsively, trying to shake off the strangling sensation the word conjured up. “Doing a great job, Ev. Keep up the good work.”
Evan beamed his relief. “Thanks, Frank. It’s like a family here. My life’s work is in those bottles.”
Frank considered this statement. He wasn’t sure exactly what his life’s work was all about. He had finished law school to please Aunt Rosie and because he’d been good at it. He’d always loved a good argument, and he’d always loved to solve puzzles. He’d thought he would go into contract law, but before stepping into that somewhat dry and tedious role, he’d decided to indulge in his long-thwarted desire to travel. He’d made it as far as Stockholm, where he’d bought a small, run-down bar. He’d turned it into a thriving business, with crowds standing in line outside. One night, an impatient patron offered to buy the bar in a bid to gain immediate access. Frank blurted out an unimaginable figure, and the man met his price. Dazed, Frank walked away with a huge windfall profit in hand.
From that time until the present, Frank had searched out businesses that were running on fumes and purchased them from owners on the verge of bankruptcy. He had then invested his time and money in making them profitable and turning them around for an even more profitable sale.
He massaged the back of his neck. It felt tight, and his shoulders held the weight of his new responsibilities.
“It’s great to have you back in town, Frank.” Evan’s grin went wall-to-wall. “I’m glad we’ll be working together. I was worried about the vineyard after Miss Rosie passed away. I know the rest of the workers will be relieved to know it will stay in the family.”
“Um, yeah. In the family,” Frank echoed.
What would happen if he sold the vineyard and winery as he had intended? What would become of Evan’s life’s work?
* * *
“A large order of chicken strips and fries.” Reggie stood at the counter of the local Dairy Queen, holding tight to her daughter’s hand. “Hang on a minute, Shannon.”
“Ice cweam!” Shannon howled indignantly.
“You have to eat your food first.”
“Finch fies!” Shannon stretched up to reach for the tray as the counter attendant scooted it toward Reggie. The tray started to slide as Shannon’s fingers connected to its edge.
“Steady there.” A man’s hand shot out from the line behind them to grab the tray and right it before it fell.
Reggie turned to thank the man, her smile fading when she recognized Frank Bell.
He stood behind her gripping the tray as though frozen into a very attractive statue. He regarded her with interest, his green eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. He smiled and turned his attention to Shannon. “Well, hello there. Who is this little heartbreaker?” He squatted down to Shannon’s level.
She grinned shyly before turning to press her face into Reggie’s legs.
Frank remained on his haunches, grinning up at Reggie. “She looks just like you. She’s a real beauty.”
Reggie felt her color rising. “Thanks,” she stammered, cringing in anticipation of his next snide remark. When he didn’t snipe at her, she looked at him again. “This is my daughter, Shannon.
”
“I’m Frank,” he directed his comments to the child. “Can you say my name?”
Shannon giggled prettily. “Fwank!”
He grinned back at her.
Reggie’s gag reflex worked overtime as she saw her daughter being sucked into the dark vortex that was Franklin Bell’s charm.
She bit back the caustic comment leaping from her tongue and reminded herself not to antagonize her employer. “We’d better eat before the fries turn to cardboard.” She tugged on Shannon’s hand and headed for a booth, sending what she hoped was a nonthreatening expression over her shoulder.
She set the tray on a table and almost bumped into Frank as he pushed a high chair toward her. He held out his hands to Shannon, who lifted her arms.
Reggie’s nails dug into her palms as Franklin Bell swung her daughter in the air before sliding her into the high chair. He seemed to have a genuine smile on his face. Not the smart-assed superior smirk he usually wore. Her heart fluttered when he met her gaze. It felt like he had caught her naked. He had no right to be in her life. To know anything about her life, for that matter. She wanted to grab Shannon and run away. Run to someplace behind high walls with a drawbridge to raise…and a dragon in the moat.
“Finch fies!” Shannon pointed to the tray of food.
Reggie swallowed and murmured under her breath, “Thanks, Frank.” She slid into the booth and opened the Styrofoam containers.
“Sure.” He winked at her and strode back to the counter.
She thought for a moment that he might return to sit at their table, but he waited for his order and took it with him. He walked out the door without looking back.
Reggie felt the tension leave her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment.
* * *
“Man, what a bitch!” Frank slammed the car door. He had been as nice as pie, and she still had that uptight, stay-away-from-me vibe going on.
Her little girl was adorable. She looked like Reggie, if Reggie ever got that stick out of her ass.
Frank sighed and flexed his fingers around the wheel. Not going to let her get to me this time. “Damn! Why does she have to be so freaking beautiful?”
He took a sip from his soda and stuffed an onion ring in his mouth. In his many fantasies starring Reggie Lee Stafford, she’d never looked as pretty as she did when smiling at her little girl. The innate softness she wore like an aura turned to carbon steel whenever her eyes focused on him.
He had never considered Reggie as a mother, but the role seemed to suit her. He smiled and reached for another onion ring. He wondered who the father was. He hadn’t seen a ring on Reggie’s finger, but that didn’t mean anything. Who was the sperm donor for the lovely little Shannon? Who was the lucky man to bed the Ice Princess?
He reviewed the list of likely candidates from high school. She had hung out with the rest of the popular kids. The ones who formed committees and ran for office. He couldn’t recall any male to whom she had been particularly linked. No great love defined.
But there must have been someone.
Maybe it was time he paid her a visit…at work.
* * *
“Reggie Lee?” Her father’s voice rose in timbre as she slipped inside the door and tiptoed across the hardwood floor.
She carried Shannon in her arms, her handbag slung over her shoulder. “Shh, Daddy. Shannon’s asleep.” Stumbling across the living room, she lowered her daughter to the sofa. She could feel her father’s protective scrutiny.
Shannon stirred and then curled on her side, her angelic expression tugging at Reggie Lee’s heartstrings. As upset as she was, she couldn’t allow her feelings to affect Shannon. Her daughter didn’t deserve that.
Henry Stafford peered at her over his glasses. “Are you all right?”
“I’m just peachy, Daddy. I saw Frank Bell today. He was at the Dairy Queen.”
“That boy you used to fight with in high school?” He pushed his glasses up on his head. “He has a right to be there. It’s a free country.”
Reggie crossed her arms over her bosom. “No, he has no right to be anywhere in my world.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I don’t see how this Frank guy always manages to pull your strings.”
She turned away, angry. “He doesn’t pull my strings. He’s just the most infuriating, most aggravating, most…most…”
Her father chuckled. “I see.”
Reggie Lee shrugged, reluctant to admit how right he’d been. “Frank always manages to get under my skin.”
“You always let him get under your skin.” Henry sank into his favorite chair and reached for his glasses, settling them back on his nose. “It appears to me that this fellow has had your number from the start. I always thought maybe he liked you.”
Reggie Lee made a noise in the back of her throat. “Franklin Bell hated me on sight.”
Henry twinkled a grin at her. “So you say, but I was a boy once, and I remember teasing your mother before I figured out I was sweet on her.”
She shook her head vehemently. “It wasn’t like that.” She recalled her mother laughing over Henry’s infatuation and the way he’d teased her. “We just despised each other immediately.”
Henry cleared his throat and unfolded his newspaper. “So you say.”
“Daddy! Don’t give me that smug expression. I do not like Frank Bell.” She turned and stomped out of the room.
In the kitchen she filled a glass with ice and reached for the pitcher of sweet tea. She watched the amber liquid fill the glass and twisted off a sprig of mint from her window herb assortment. The tea ritual was a part of her. It calmed her. It centered her. It did not keep her from envisioning Frank’s green eyes and the way they roamed over her body. She had always thought Frank’s insolent overtures were born of loathing. She sipped her tea and considered her father’s belief that Frank’s attentions might have been due to some attraction.
“No!” The sound of her own voice in the quiet room startled her. “No,” she whispered. There was no love lost between her and Frank. She set her glass on the tile countertop with a bang.
She recalled her first thoughts when she’d spied the grown-up version of Frank in his sports car. She’d entertained a rush of lust that she hadn’t experienced in some time. Since her marriage ended, Reggie Lee had focused all her energies on raising Shannon, her job at the newspaper, and keeping house for her daddy. She hadn’t spent much time or energy on her long-lost love life.
Of course, three of her best girlfriends had not married yet but held much more hopeful attitudes toward the prospect of marriage.
Her friend Lori Holloway was a children’s book author and had moved to New York City. She was a big deal in the world of kiddie literature.
And Truly Nell Todd, the wonderfully wild and willful girl, had married a man who was quite well off and relocated to the big city.
Jill Garland, her best friend and the daughter of the local sheriff, had never married, but she flexed her maternal instincts as the owner of the local day care. If it weren’t for Jill, Reggie Lee would have been at a loss for female friends.
Otherwise, Reggie Lee remained behind, abandoned and alone in the small town of Rambling, Texas, where it seemed that she would wither away without a true love…without a happily ever after.
Most of the good men in the area had married, and the single men in her age bracket weren’t particularly attracted to nor attractive to Reggie Lee.
Pity that her own marriage had fallen apart. I sure can pick ’em.
She drew in a breath. Not that the marriage had been much to begin with. The demise of her lackluster marital state had not come as a surprise. What had surprised her was that Kenny hadn’t seemed to want to continue his relationship with his daughter either. He had packed his belongings in his ten-year-old Impala and head
ed out of town.
* * *
Reggie Lee deleted the entire paragraph she had just written. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, groping for words to make the life of Homer James Campbell seem important. He was the recently departed former school janitor who had retired after a long career with the school district. He’d had the intention of spending many years on the lake, sitting in his small rowboat with a can of worms and a cane pole. She flexed her fingers.
She typed… Homer James Campbell, a World War II veteran, passed away Wednesday after succumbing to a short illness…
She grimaced, her finger poised over the delete button. Surely there were words to summarize an entire life that didn’t seem so totally banal. She heaved a deep sigh and shoved the rolling chair she was perched on away from the desk. “Oh!” She ran into something solid…something that also let out a surprised grunt.
Reggie Lee swiveled in her chair and was caught in the arms of Frank Bell.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Hard at work, I see.”
Panic gripped her stomach. “Oh,” she repeated. “I mean, yes. I’m working.”
Frank stepped back, releasing her in the process. “So, what are you doing?”
“Obit. Old man Campbell died.” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth trembled. She clamped her lips together.
“Old man Campbell.” Frank frowned. “You mean the school janitor? He was pretty much ancient when I left town.”
“Pretty old. He lived to be eighty-seven.” Reggie wondered how long he was going to stand over her trying to intimidate her…succeeding. She pushed the rolling chair away and stood. Frank still towered over her, but not as much. She reached for some papers in her inbox. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver these right away.”
The green eyes flicked over the unopened mail in her hand, and another grin said he knew she was lying. “I see.” He stepped away. “I’ll get with you later, then.”
Reggie Lee nodded and slipped by him, almost fleeing to the editor’s office. She closed the door behind her with such force it rattled the glass inset.
