“No. It’s about tomorrow. The sellers come to put up booths and tents. It’s chaos and tears and fights and too many accidents. Either Dr. Kyle or Jamie will be here.”
“If it’s a war, Jamie will show up. But what’s this about? I thought it was a festival.”
“I’ll tell you everything later, but we have to be back at six thirty for Dad’s meeting.” Her voice was rising. Nate was just feet from her and wearing only a towel! “You can’t wear one of your T-shirts to a meal with the mayor’s family. And no jeans! Here, these will look nice.” Stepping around the bed, she held up the black trousers, blocking her view of him. “I can’t decide if you should wear a towel or not.” Instantly, she realized what she’d said. “I meant a tie.” When he was silent, she looked at him. He was staring at her in an odd way, almost as though he was angry at her.
“You need to put some clothes on.” His voice was a deep-throated growl.
Terri looked down at herself. She had on an oversize T-shirt and underpants. While the top half of her was covered, nearly all of her legs were bare. “Sorry. I ran down here.” Across a chair was a pair of his gray sweatpants and she quickly pulled them on. They were huge on her and she had to tighten the drawstring to keep them up. “Better?”
Nate didn’t smile. “Some, but I wish I didn’t have a memory.” Shaking his head as though to clear it, he dropped his towel to the floor. All he had on were clean boxers.
“Hey!” Terri said, frowning. “If I’m to cover up, why isn’t it the same for you?”
With a shrug, Nate picked up his trousers. “You want me to explain the inequality of the world to you? Can’t do it.” Trousers on, he reached for the shirt she’d laid out for him.
Terri was holding two black belts, one very dressy, one with visible lacing. “Hmmm. Since it’s a brunch, maybe the less formal belt will do.”
Nate was standing in front of her with his hand extended.
She handed him the less formal belt and he began slipping it through the loops. “I want you to take this brunch seriously. You must mind your manners, eat nothing with your hands and do not ask for a beer. Drink whatever they give you. If they offer you a cocktail, ask for something civilized, like a...a...gin and tonic. That’s good.”
He was standing close to her and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Anything else, Mom?”
“Mom?” Terri’s eyes widened. “That’s a good idea. You should have taken the new Cale Anderson book with you as a gift. I’d give them my copy, but it has my name in it. It was really nice of your aunt to send it. She—”
Smiling, Nate put his hands on her shoulders and spoke calmly. “Everything will be fine. I’ve been to three state dinners at the White House. No one complained about my table manners.”
“I know. It’s just that you’ve been here for a while and lake people are a bad influence. Ask anyone in Summer Hill.” She stepped away from him.
When Nate’s smile left him, she thought that for all his bravado, he seemed genuinely worried about the meeting. But it was just brunch with his future in-laws. How bad could it be?
He glanced at the bedside clock. “I’m going to be late.”
They walked to the front door and when Nate turned to leave, he hesitated, then glanced up at the house as though memorizing it. “I don’t know why, but I feel like a kid leaving home for the first time. I wish I’d said no to this, but...” He took a breath. “I guess I should go.”
“Gift!” Terri said. “You should take a gift. Stay here.”
She ran to the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of wine left over from the party, then ran back to him. “I’m sure Stacy would have put them in pretty bags with ribbons on them.”
He grinned. “I would have taken a six-pack.”
“Or a pan full of chicken bits so hot Mayor Hartman would have had a heart attack.”
For a moment they laughed together, then Nate straightened his shoulders. “Okay, I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
To the astonishment of both of them, Nate gave her a quick kiss on the lips. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, but one like a married couple would exchange. Familiar, easy, practiced. Only it wasn’t.
They both stepped back, startled, eyes wide.
“I, uh...” Nate said.
Terri recovered first. “It’s okay. We’re both nervous. Go! I’m sure Mayor Hartman is a stickler for punctuality.”
“All right.” Nate was backing toward his car, looking at her as though puzzled by something.
“And quit kissing people!” Terri said. “Don’t greet Mayor Hartman with a kiss on the lips. Or Mrs. Hartman. Forget all the years you’ve spent in countries where they kiss everyone. No lip kissing!”
Her joke pulled Nate back to the present. “I hear they have a cook.” He opened the door of his car.
“Kissing her is fine. Just not the mayor.”
Smiling, Nate nodded as he started the engine and backed out.
Terri went inside, closed the door and leaned on it. Nate kissed her. It’s all that was in her mind. It wasn’t the kind of kiss she’d like to have had, one where they were both so overcome with passion that they couldn’t stop. Tongues and lips and clothes flying off. Nope, not that kind of kiss at all. It was more...
Friendship, she thought and pushed away from the door. “I get friendship and Stacy gets the passion. Stacy gets the man.” As she looked out the front glass at the lake, she imagined Nate at brunch. No doubt he’d use his White House manners and win the Hartmans over. How could they not like him? Everyone at the lake adored Nate. Last night at the party, he’d been the hit of the evening. It may have been Terri’s house, but everyone asked Nate about where things were and what they could do—and he’d answered them all.
Yes, the Hartmans would fall in love with Nate. And then what? she thought. When he got back would he tell her that he was moving out? He’d probably say, “I’d forgotten how much I deeply and truly love Stacy Hartman and I’m going to go stay with her parents. They make me feel closer to the woman I love with all my heart and soul.” Or something like that. Knowing Nate, she’d see him putting his bags in his car and he’d call out “See you around, kid” as he drove away.
She went into the kitchen. The cooks had cleaned up after themselves, and people had picked up rubbish, but the place could still use a good scrub. She started to get cleaning supplies out, but then she thought, Screw it! She was going to go to Club Circle and see what other people were doing. Right now she did not want to be alone.
* * *
As Nate drove away, he didn’t let himself think about what had just happened with Terri. It had been an accident. Caused by his ridiculous worry about spending time with Stacy’s parents.
He’d tried not to let the fact that they’d never liked him bother him, but it did. Maybe it was the novelty of it that got him. All his life he’d been liked by people.
As a child he’d been the one chosen first for teams—and he’d used his popularity to help underdogs. He used to say that he’d only be on a team if some scrawny, nerdy kid could be with him. Helping people had always made Nate feel... Well, powerful. Needed.
During all the years with Kit, it had been Nate who calmed nerves. When Kit yelled, “Come!” people followed. But after they were there, it was Nate who took care of them. He solved problems and settled arguments. Kit could never be bothered with where people could get food and water.
The fact that Stacy’s parents had taken one look at Nate and curled their upper lips in distaste had jolted him. In the two weeks they’d spent visiting in DC, Nate had done everything he could to please them. He called in favors and got Mr. and Mrs. Hartman—there’d been no invitation to call them by less formal names—into museums after hours, backstage at plays. Mr. Hartman had a long meeting with the Virginia senator.
But none of it had made a difference. On the last night, a
t dinner at an elegant restaurant, Mrs. Hartman had picked up her salad fork and nodded to Nate. It took him a moment to understand that she was showing him the correct fork to use. After all his work over an exhausting two weeks, their opinion of him as a lower-class, uneducated Neanderthal had not changed.
As he pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine, he didn’t get out. He just sat there, dreading what was to come.
He didn’t like their house. It was probably built in the 1940s, but had been greatly added onto over the years. It was now two stories, with a roof that jutted out supported by two tall columns.
Stacy had seen Nate’s face the first time he saw the house. “Isn’t it dreadful? But Dad grew up wanting the Stanton house and when he couldn’t get it, he tried to make his parents’ house as Stantony as possible.”
Whatever the reason, Nate truly disliked everything about it—especially the location. Right in town, stores on both sides of it. It was too public for his taste, but Llewellyn Hartman was the mayor of Summer Hill and he took the idea of being available to the citizens—his subjects—very seriously.
Nate put on his best diplomatic face, got out of his car, went to the door and rang the bell.
Mrs. Hartman greeted him. Like Stacy, she was a small woman, all pink and blonde, with porcelain skin that had always been protected from sun and weather. She gave a bit of a smile but it wasn’t real. She even aimed a kiss at his cheek but her lips didn’t touch him.
“We have other guests.” Her tone implied that Nate needed to be warned. Or what? He’d misbehave?
Nate followed her into the living room that he knew had been decorated by Stacy. She’d done her best to give it what she called “the Kennedy vibe.” Fabrics that looked worn, almost careless. Cottons, not silk. “Rich but not flaunting it,” she’d said.
Standing to one side of the room were two men and a woman. One was Llewellyn Hartman, a short man who probably weighed the same as he did in high school. He kept his shoulders back in an almost military stance, although Nate knew the man had never been in service.
Next to him was a taller man, about the same age, with a look of prosperity about him. Close by the men was a woman, also taller, slim, wearing half a dozen pieces of gold jewelry. Mrs. Hartman went to stand beside them.
All four of them were staring at Nate in silence. He’d been in some tough social situations before, but this could possibly be the worst. Did he introduce himself? Or should he knock over a crystal vase and reinforce what they seemed to think of him?
“Hello,” came a voice from behind him.
Turning, Nate saw a tall, thin young man, good-looking in a polished sort of way, his hand outstretched in welcome.
“I’m Bob Alderson and these silent rocks are my parents. In case you haven’t guessed, everyone is furious with you for having stolen the girl they wanted for me.”
“Really, Bob,” the taller woman said. “Do you have to be so crass?”
Nate shook the man’s hand, gratefully.
Bob put his hand on Nate’s shoulder, and said, “Don’t let them get you down. It was mutual with Stace and me, but they won’t believe that.” Bob grinned at the two sets of parents. “I’m starving. Let’s eat!”
They went into the dining room, and as Nate knew it would be, the table was set formally. When Nate had worked in DC, he’d sublet an apartment from a cousin who was temporarily working in Milan. It was a big place, all the furniture was upholstered in white. The tables, big and little, had glass tops. Stacy had loved it so much that he’d never had the heart to tell her that he hated it.
Every night when he got home from a job he detested, he’d been greeted by Stacy dressed as sweetly as a 1950s housewife. She’d made him an exquisite dinner of salad and some low-calorie protein and lots of steamed vegetables. He never told her that on days when he hit the gym, he ate a foot-long sub with some hot and spicy filling before he went home to her cute little dinner.
Meals with Stacy weren’t like the ones he’d shared with Terri. The rain outside, feet propped up, big slices of pizza, beer—and revealing confidences.
“Nathaniel,” Mrs. Hartman said, “you seem to be amused by something. Care to share it with us?”
He looked up. The Aldersons were across from him, their eyes accusatory. The Hartmans were at opposite ends of the table. Bob was beside him. Nate couldn’t come up with a reply.
“Carol,” Bob said to Mrs. Hartman, “I bet Nate is thinking about how sublime this frittata is. You have outdone yourself.”
Mrs. Hartman blushed with pleasure. “Oh, Bob, you’ve always been so charming.”
The implication was plain. By comparison, Nate was a thug.
“I hear you’ve been staying at the lake,” Mr. Alderson said to Nate. “They are quite different people, aren’t they?”
“I like it,” Nate managed to say. “I enjoy my time there and I do my best to help out.”
“Doing what? Baiting hooks for weekend widows?” Mr. Alderson’s voice was smug—and filled with dirty innuendo.
“I think that—” Nate began, and there was anger in his words.
“How’s Terri?” Bob’s voice was loud, drowning out whatever Nate had been about to say. “I always liked her in high school. We tried to get her on some of the sports teams but she always ran home to work. I haven’t seen her for a while. How is she?”
“Great.” Nate gave his first genuine smile since he’d arrived. “She and her dad run the place. Actually, Terri does most of the work. If there’s a problem, she fixes it. Everything from keeping raccoons out of the garbage to saving the lives of people who fall into the lake. Last night we had a party at her house and nearly everyone at the lake came. Brody was singing and Frank played a guitar, then some of the old-timers showed up with instruments and it turned into rock and roll heaven. We...”
Everyone but Bob was looking at Nate in horror.
“That sounds like a party at the lake.” Lew Hartman’s voice showed his disgust. “I’m glad the sheriff was there in case it got too rowdy.”
Mrs. Alderson was staring at Nate. “Terri Rayburn is a very pretty girl, but she broke Billy Thorndyke’s heart. We thought maybe Billy was destined to be President someday, but after Terri dropped him, he lost his spirit.”
Nate kept his head down. If he let himself go, he might tell the woman what he thought of her. I must be a diplomat! he thought. He looked across at Mrs. Alderson and did his best to take the anger out of his eyes. “You seem like someone who knows things. Can you explain Kris Lennon’s strange behavior to me?”
The question seemed to knock the woman off balance. “Lennon? I don’t know anyone by that name. Where...?”
“Crystal Wilkins,” Mrs. Hartman said.
“Oh yes, of course. I’d forgotten about her. And Abby and Rodney. Oh my, but that was a long time ago.”
Within seconds, the four adults started talking over each other as they remembered the Wilkins family.
Bob glanced at Nate and gave a discreet thumbs-up. The subject had been changed, and a new story was being told.
“Years ago, four pretty girls from the East Coast went to Lake Kissel for a month. But Abby Lennon met a Summer Hill boy, Rodney Wilkins,” Mrs. Alderson said, and smiled at Mrs. Hartman. “We went to school with him. Remember how gorgeous he was?” She paused for a moment. “Nearly six feet tall, black hair, blue eyes. Rode a Harley at sixteen. When he walked down the hall, every female stopped to look.”
“Of course, he wasn’t the right sort,” Mr. Alderson added.
“No,” Mrs. Alderson said. “Roddy was pure, primal sex appeal!”
“Mother!” Bob said in mock protest.
“Anyway,” Mrs. Hartman said, “Abby came to visit the year after graduation and she and Roddy fell for each other. They eloped and she stayed in Summer Hill.”
“And Roddy became
a deputy sheriff,” Mr. Hartman said. “He was good at his job. Fair and honest.”
“We all liked him,” Mr. Alderson added. “One night I had too much to drink but I still drove home. Roddy stopped me and—” He shrugged. “He could have put me in jail but he didn’t. My life might have been different if it weren’t for him driving me home that night.”
“Abby and he were a happy couple and they had a baby, Crystal, and...” Mrs. Alderson trailed off.
“When Crystal was three or four, Roddy was in a car accident,” Mr. Alderson said. “It wasn’t his fault. The drunk driver walked away unscathed, but Roddy was badly hurt.”
They all looked at Mr. Hartman. “Roddy’s face was torn up and the left side of his body smashed. For the rest of his life he was always in pain and...”
“And always angry,” Mr. Alderson said.
Mrs. Alderson leaned forward. “We think he was abusive to Abby and the child, but they would never say so. She became the support of the family and...” She looked at the others.
“It was bad,” Mr. Hartman said. “The church tried to help, but Roddy wouldn’t accept charity.”
Everyone grew quiet at the memory.
“But now the daughter owns a flower shop,” Nate said.
“Yes, she does,” Mr. Hartman said. “Poor Roddy died just as Crystal was about to graduate from high school. He could no longer ride a motorcycle but one night he tried to.”
“Ran headlong into a tree,” Mr. Alderson said. “Dr. Everett said his alcohol level was through the roof.”
“The day after the funeral,” Mrs. Alderson said, “Crystal and her mother left town. We didn’t see or hear from them until two years ago. Mother and daughter came back to Summer Hill, bought the flower shop and have done a splendid job of running it. They’ve become a true asset to this town.”
“Like Billy Thorndyke,” Nate said softly.
“Billy?” Mr. Hartman asked. “What does he have to do with the Roddy Wilkins family?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Nate said. “It’s just that the stories are the same. At about the same time, the Wilkins family and the Thorndykes abruptly left town.”
Met Her Match Page 11
