by Barbara Lohr
“And that's where you come in.”
“Exactly. I've got a good team. Trust me, we never spend January in Florida.” The words were said with good humor.
When they reached Brewster's, cars lined the street. The Italian café was always crowded. Tiny lights were strung over the outside seating area. With any luck, they’d get a table out there. The smell of garlic, warm bread and tomato sauce drifted through the front doors.
Dropping her hand, Will stepped up to the receptionist. “Table for two, please?”
The young girl consulted her screen. “The wait is about one hour and fifteen minutes.”
“You're kidding.” His voice held dismay.
“Next time, you can call when you're on the way,” the girl told him. “There's still a wait but at least you're on the list.”
Diana's stomach shrank. She'd forgotten about their phone policy.
“What do you think?” Will half-turned, as if considering other options.
“Let’s just wait at the bar. There’s no hurry, right?”
He looked uncertain, as if he didn’t want to disappoint her. “You're sure that's all right? We could try our luck on Red Arrow.”
But tonight she wanted the romance of the darkened patio. “No, really. Let’s have a drink.” Diana led the way to the side bar. She loved this place in the summer, even though it held some memories. They took the last two bar stools.
“You must think I don’t get out much. Sorry, I didn't know about the wait.” His lips twisted.
“Not a problem. I’m happy they're crowded. Brings me business.”
Settling in, they ordered margaritas. In the background, Dean Martin crooned Italian love songs. The evening felt strangely perfect, like a fabulous dress she forgot she owned. She was on a date, the first in a long time. Sales had been good that day. Best of all, Will was being sweet as could be. When the drinks came, she raised her glass. “To a good day.”
“I'm for that.” He clinked her glass with his. “What's a good day for you?”
Salt rimmed her margarita glass and Diana licked her lips. His eyes followed. “I-I hit my target today, which was last year’s sales. Don't you have goals at work?”
Nodding, he took a gulp. The tendons in his neck worked. Will’s neck was broad, strong. Cripes, she practically felt his icy drink drip down her spine as he swallowed. Maybe she was sweating.
“Sure,” he said, while she gave herself a mental head slap. “The company that owns Gull Harbor Care Center has daily census goals.”
His words sounded muffled. Stop thinking about his neck and concentrate. She pulled her attention back while he continued, “My personal goal is the health of my residents.”
Words like that usually belonged in TV commercials. But on Will’s lips, they sounded sincere.
It was so hard to gather her thoughts. She needed rock music, not Italian love songs. “Where is the care center? I don't remember ever passing it.”
“Just off Red Arrow Highway. Greenwood Road.”
She searched her mind, licking her lips again. “Don’t think I know where that is.”
His eyes clung to her lips. “Don’t feel bad. No one knows where it is until they need it. Then we're there for you.”
Will’s glance wandered from her lips to her eyes. She was glad she’d spent so much time on her makeup.
“You look so mysterious. What are you thinking?” With a mischievous smile, he leaned closer.
God, he smelled good. “For what it’s worth, you’d be the guy I’d want taking care of my family.” She was tempted to sweep back the lock of hair that fell into his eyes. Instead, she clenched one fist tight in her lap and reached for her drink. She had to take it slow. In lots of ways.
But her body was humming a different message.
Chapter 4
“What a compliment, Diana. You’d entrust your family to me?” His eyes flowed over her bare shoulders like a warm July wave, goose bumps rising in their wake. “I’d be waiting in the hall for your visits.”
“Visits.” She almost dropped her glass. He had just filled in the blanks. “Will, do I look familiar? Did you work at a rehab home in Indianapolis?”
He blinked. “Yes, Westwood. That’s where I started out. Why?”
“My grandfather rehabbed there.” At first, she thought he was another visiting relative. But that tall, good-looking guy was there all the time, walking the halls. “After my grandfather broke his hip, he was taken to Westwood Care Center on the north side of Indianapolis.”
Will seemed to be thinking back. “Right, okay. You did look a little familiar at the dance. Guess I thought that was just wishful thinking. Westwood was my first job. I was assistant administrator.”
“My grandmother adored you. She called you that cute young man in the suit.”
“Really?” Loosening his tie, Will unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Was the evening getting warmer or was it them? “You remember all that?”
“I do now.” She was toast.
He shook his head. “Life is funny, right?”
“Funny? Sometimes.” If she could only go back to that time when Grandpa Stan was sick. She’d do it differently, that’s for sure.
“And your grandfather? Hope we treated him well. He’s doing okay?”
She dropped her eyes. “He never made it, Will. But it didn’t have anything to do with your staff or the place. He hated the whole thing. Hated that he’d fallen in the first place. The rehab? Grandpa just gave up.” Her voice had turned hoarse. Dean Martin and his music faded into the background. Yep, she’d do anything to go back and spend more time with her grandfather. She’d been too busy worrying about calculus and American Literature back then. Working part-time and going to night school.
Will squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry, Diana.”
“That’s okay. Your staff did what they could. He had a stroke and that was that. My great-aunt Ethel moved in with my mother, and they’re still in Newtown.”
“Newtown. Think I’ve heard of it.”
She leaned back in disbelief. “Come on. Newtown is almost too small to be on the map.”
He chuckled. “Look, I'm from Beanblossom, Indiana, if that puts things into perspective.”
She swallowed a giggle that turned into a hiccup.
“What a name to hang around a kid's neck all his life, right?”
“Do they sell t-shirts? I want one!”
His eyebrows disappeared into that crazy cowlick. “Okay, now you’re putting me on.”
By that time, she was laughing. “I’m not one to point fingers. The only people who ever drive through Newtown are probably on their way to Ball State University, which is in Muncie.”
“Did you go to Ball State?”
“No. A community college in Indy.”
“Are your parents still in Newtown too? Do they live near your grandmother?”
She should have known. Will was the kind of guy who’d want details. “My mother lives on the island of Ibiza with her third husband.”
“Sounds glamorous.”
“I’ve never been there. Those magnets you may have noticed on my refrigerator? That’s all I know about the island.”
His smile faded. “That's too bad.”
Will no doubt came from the perfect family. She pictured Sunday dinners with his family gathered around a table.
“Maybe.” Diana hated questions like this. “We're not close.”
“How about your dad?”
Wasn’t their table ready yet?
What would he think? She forged on anyway. “I don’t have a father. Star––that’s actually my mother’s name––was pretty wild in high school. None of her partners wanted to narrow down the field with her.”
The silence stretched. Will didn’t look away, and he didn’t jump into the usual “I’m so sorry.” If anything, he looked angry. “You deserve better.”
“I can handle it.” She tossed her head back. Time to change the subject. �
�How did you end up running a care center?”
“Like I said, I just liked old people. They need people who care looking out for them.” His brows pinched together. “I hope to succeed at my job.”
She sat back. Most guys defined success with money, big houses and everything that went with it.
“Okay, you’re quiet. What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.” Why go into this? Instead, she lifted her glass. “Here's to people from small towns with cool names.”
They sipped. Will checked his phone but still no text about their table. “What do your parents do in Beanblossom?” Diana wanted to hear more about his family.
“My dad was the mayor for a while. He has a small hardware store. But it’s really a place where guys come to sit and talk about their crops, stuff like that.”
Right. Of course. Her drink turned tart. The Applegate family sounded like good upright folks. Apple pie and strong principles. Honesty. She shivered.
“Anything wrong?” When he leaned closer, she saw the green ring around the iris of each blue eye. Felt his warm breath on her face.
“Oh, no. Just thinking.” She ran her finger down the stem of her glass. “Do you ever miss your home town?”
“Sure, but my folks give me all the news. I go back when I can.” The way he talked, she knew he had great memories.
“Is it pretty in that part of Indiana?”
Will grinned. “Yeah, it's awesome. In a couple of months, the leaves will be changing color. But Michigan was pretty last fall, so that made the move easier.”
“Did you hate to leave Indiana?”
“Not really. I never pictured myself staying in Beanblossom.” He scooped some peanuts from a bowl on the bar. “Don’t you miss your home town? Newtown, right?”
“More than the town, I miss my grandmother and Aunt Ethel. But I go back to visit.”
“So, you went to school in Indianapolis. What brought you up here?”
She’d learned to choose her words carefully. “For a while I lived in Chicago. A small inheritance from my grandfather made that possible. I ended up in Gull Harbor by accident. The recession, you know.” That seemed like the best excuse.
“At least you weren’t in real estate, although I imagine the shops took a hit.”
“Retail’s not an easy career. I jumped into it without enough training and made some mistakes. But I like what I do.”
Will had grabbed a menu from the pile stacked in a corner of the bar. “Maybe we should check this out so we're ready when our table comes up.”
“They have great pizza.”
He flipped over a page. “What do you like on yours?”
“Everything. Spinach, mushrooms, onion, peppers, lots of black olives.” The list made her drool.
His eyes had widened. “You really do come here often.”
“Take out. One pizza lasts me a couple of days. How about you? I suppose you want sausage or pepperoni.”
“What you described sounds fine to me. Order whatever you want.”
“You’re sure easy to please.” She couldn’t recall when she'd been this comfortable with a man.
Nipping his lower lip between his teeth, Will nodded. “Usually, yes.”
Picking up the menu, she fanned herself. “Lordy, it’s hot in here, or is it me?”
His eyes settled on her. “You. It’s definitely you.”
She stopped breathing until it hurt. When Will went back to studying the menu, she exhaled. “They should be calling us soon, don’t you think?” She craned her neck toward the front desk. The crowd had thinned. Wouldn’t be long now. She could almost taste the pizza.
Will’s phone rang. Finally. She was starving. Hopping off the stool, Diana grabbed her drink and glanced toward the patio. Everything was going so well.
But Will was frowning. “When did the staff last see her?”
Diana set her drink back on the bar.
“Call the Emergency Team. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“What’s wrong?” Diana snatched her shawl and purse. Digging out his wallet, Will threw some bills on the bar. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to work. Fast. An emergency.”
Following him out into the gathering dusk, she tried to keep up. Will’s legs ate up the sidewalk with long strides. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“One of our Alzheimer’s patients is missing. Damn, wish I’d brought my car.”
Running wasn't easy in her sandals, but Will broke into a jog and she kept up. “How could you know? Does this happen often?”
“No.” Giving her a side-glance, Will said, “You don't have to run along with me, Diana. I'll call you after this is over.” They were both starting to pant.
“Absolutely not.” He looked so worried. “How will you find her?”
“We map out a grid and search the fields. Most patients are found within a mile. Unless Luanne grabbed a ride from someone. My nursing director has alerted the police.” By the second block, Will was starting to sweat. He looked warm and worried. But she had to watch the blasted sidewalk or take a nasty spill.
This off-the-shoulder top was just not cutting it. Glad that Will was preoccupied, she folded her arms under her breasts to keep everything in place. “The Gull Harbor police force is small. Who helps you search?” Darkness had crept over the street. They were running in and out of pools of light thrown from street lamps.
“We have a First Alert Team. Every staff member available. Folks from the community like the volunteer firemen.”
“Can anyone pitch in?” Her side was killing her. Thank God she hadn’t eaten yet. Her yellow frame house came into sight, the light glowing over the front door. The last stretch felt like forever. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.” He looked down at her shoes.
Will had a point. She couldn’t search the fields in this getup. “You go,” she told him, pushing her front door open. “I’ll be there. And I won’t get in your way. “
“I'm not going to argue with you.” Hard to believe this was the same man who had stood calmly studying her Monet print only an hour ago. Will told her where to turn off Red Arrow and then he was gone, tires squealing as he took a corner.
In less than a minute, she shed her white skirt for jeans and ditched the sexy top for a navy hoodie. Then she jammed her feet into socks and tennis shoes. The whole time, she thought about how frightened the poor woman must be. What if this were Grandma Kit? After locking up the house, she jumped into her bright yellow VW and headed for Red Arrow.
Will might think she was crazy and maybe she was. She just had to help. Sometimes you get a chance to catch up in life. And this was one of those moments.
Greenwood Road wasn't hard to find. Up ahead of her cars were turning, headlights arcing in the dark. When she pulled into the parking lot, red lights flashed from police cars and guys in uniforms were studying GPS maps. She parked, got out and hurried inside. A girl at the reception desk told her where to find Will and the crisis team. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the shiny tile as she raced to the conference room, standing room only when she arrived. Sleeves rolled up, Will stood pointing to a chart pinned to a board. “Team A will begin at this sector and move south to the quarter mile point. Then we'll flip and head north. Team B will start across the road. Stay ten feet away from each other and keep a steady but thorough pace. Be sure to look in every depression or gully. Check under fallen trees and shake bushes all the way to the creek.”
At the mention of the creek, the group fell silent. She didn't have to be a clinical person to know how dangerous any body of water could be for a confused older woman, especially at night.
“Let's move.” Will snapped them back to attention. “Count off.” They counted off and Diana ended up on Team A, which he led.
Grabbing flashlights from the table, they went out into the fields. What was she doing here, stamping through high weeds in the dark? But she wanted so desperately to help. This could be her Grandma Kit or Au
nt Ethel lost out here. Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled overhead. The group picked up the pace. She could practically feel the terror of the older woman. Was there a daughter somewhere who would be called? She pressed forward in the long line of searchers calling one name, “Luanne! Luanne!”
The name echoed through the fields. They stopped to listen every so often, but no response came on the still night air. They pushed on. Thank goodness she’d changed clothes. Bushes slapped her legs, and once, a branch whipped back across her cheek. She pressed a hand against the sting. Had it left a scratch? She’d deal with it later. From across the road came the calls from the B team. The quarter mile stretch felt eternal, and Diana could only imagine how it would feel to Luanne.
Of course, she might be out on the highway, even more terrifying. The police were stopping along Red Arrow, asking questions at gas stations and restaurants before leaving a flyer. Was Luanne tiny like Grandma Kit? Would a motorist see her along the road in the pitch darkness of Michigan? Her empty stomach heaved while Diana’s imagination went wild. She hadn't thought to bring bug spray, and the mosquitoes buzzed about her face. She scratched her neck, face and wrists as they walked. Will stayed in the lead, his white shirt a beacon. Then it came time to turn, and the line repositioned to scour the next quarter mile.
When they came to the creek, they picked their way slowly along the shore. Diana’s breath tightened in her throat when she swung her flashlight over the gurgling water. The only thing they found was a family of raccoons, who scurried away into the night. Then the rain came. Not a sprinkle—the skies opened and soon Diana’s clothes and hair were plastered to her body. The tennis shoes felt like wedges of concrete.
She tried to stay near Will, who was on his phone with the other team across the highway. “Anything?” she asked when he hung up, but he just shook his head. In the darkness she couldn’t read his expression, but his tense body sent signals. Streaked with dirt, his shirt clung to him. The tie had disappeared, and his slacks were torn in at least two places.
Relentless, he led the charge. How did he stay so calm? His pristine image faded under the wet rain and mud but he kept on. There was nothing not to like about Will tonight.
