She whirled around to face him. “Go? I just got here. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I thought we might...” Smiling, she lowered her lashes. “We could christen the house.”
“I’d love to but I promised Brody that I’d...” He couldn’t think of an excuse.
“Brody? Oh. At the lake. You don’t need to leave. Bob said he’d put up my tent.”
Nate took a step backward. “Bob? Are you kidding? He’s a would-be politician. All he can do is eat rubber chicken. I have to lift the poles.” He couldn’t help it but he held up his arm and flexed his bicep. It was something he’d been doing a lot in the last few weeks because every time he flexed, Terri gave a very satisfying expression of appreciation.
But Stacy’s frown didn’t change. She was utterly unaffected by his display of muscle.
He took another step back. “I really do need to go. They’re expecting me. And I have to oversee your booth. The boxes you sent fill a dump truck.”
“I guess,” Stacy said, then regained her usual happiness. “You’re right. I have much more in the basement of Mom and Dad’s house. Why don’t you go to the lake to work on the tent and send Bob to me?”
Nate had an idea that suggestion was supposed to make him feel guilty—or maybe jealous—but it didn’t. “Great idea! I’ll do it.” He got to the door before he turned back. In a few steps he crossed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. He had to bend down to reach her and she had to stand on her toes, but their lips met.
This time, it was Stacy who got passionate and Nate who pulled away. “Keep up with that and I’ll never get out of here.”
“That’s the whole idea,” Stacy said with absolutely no humor.
“You’re so cute.” He touched the tip of her nose with his finger, then was out the door before she could say another word.
He drove much too fast to get to the lake, and when he saw the chaos he was relieved. He needed that to take his mind off his own problems.
There were pickup trucks everywhere and it looked like a hundred people were unloading them—and they were all arguing about how to do it. Some booths were tents, some were being built out of pine, some were prefabricated of plywood. Sellers did a lot to attract customers to them.
A straw hat blew across the gravel and landed at Nate’s feet. He picked it up and smiled at the middle-aged woman chasing it. She looked as though she didn’t know whether to cry or kill someone.
“I hate my husband,” she said. “Really and truly hate him. I should have listened to my mother and dumped him twenty-four years ago.”
Nate slid an arm around her shoulders and handed her the hat. “What do you say we go beat him up?”
“Only if I get to help.”
Thirty minutes later, he’d settled six arguments and had found Terri and her uncle Frank, then got the glass guy and the pot holder woman together.
Best of all, he’d made a date to have lunch with Terri. No! he corrected himself. No date with Terri. They were in business together and needed to discuss it.
And, he promised himself, as soon as Widiwick was over, he was going to spend a whole lot of time with his bride-to-be and rediscover what had made him fall in love with her in the first place. Yes, he thought. That’s all he needed. Time with Stacy and it would all come back to him.
By twelve thirty, Nate was hungry, thirsty and ready to throw people in the lake. The petty complaints they came up with were appalling. “My space is too far from the toilets,” a man said. Nate bit his tongue to keep from saying “Use a tree.”
Two women were arguing over the colors of their side-by-side booths. Nate started to step in but Reverend Nolan caught his arm. “Save your breath. Those two are sisters.” Nate nearly ran away.
When it was almost time to escape to some peace and quiet, he saw Mrs. Lennon alone in the midst of what looked to be a hundred pots, ranging from new to old tin cans, all ready to be filled with flowers. Her tent was up, a light tan trimmed in dark green, and she had a big sign: Garden Day.
All in all, a nonangry person looked like a haven. “You okay? Need any help?” he asked.
“You couldn’t possibly move that big urn to the front, could you?”
“Sure.” Nate slid his forearms under the iron pot, lifted with his legs and carried it to where she pointed and set it down.
“My goodness, but you are a strong young man. You must have to work to keep the girls away.”
Nate picked up another big pot and moved it to the front. “I just wish all of them thought that,” he mumbled. When he stood up, Mrs. Lennon was staring at him, her eyes asking what he’d meant. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I better go.”
“How about a tall glass of homemade lemonade?”
“Who do I have to murder?”
She motioned him to the back of the tent where she’d set up a little table and two chairs. A big container of lemonade and a box of cookies were on top. “Help yourself.” He took a seat and she sat across from him.
“Whoever thought up this festival should be shot,” he said. “I mean the very first person who invented it, not the Widiwick part.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “You must be referring to Terri’s mother, Leslie. Lovely woman.”
Nate smiled. “Any objection to telling me about her?”
“None at all. Leslie was my friend and she’s the one who made this place—all of it, the whole lake—what it is. Jake and Brody were just a couple of ex-GIs who wanted to build some houses. It was Leslie who had the vision of what it could be. She designed the club, made a circle road. She made a community.”
“I was told that—”
Mrs. Lennon’s face instantly turned to anger. “I know what you were told. But it’s not true. Why would a woman who lived for her family run off with some man? She was mad about Brody and hardly ever set her daughter down. She designed this place for families. She—”
Mrs. Lennon took a breath and calmed herself. “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t know what happened to Leslie Rayburn but I don’t think she ran off with a man.”
“Didn’t she leave a note?”
“I heard that she did and people said it was her handwriting, but Leslie called me that morning. She said she’d spilled a hot cup of tea over her right hand and it was in bandages. How did she write a note?”
“Did you tell the sheriff about this?”
“Of course, but we had old man Chazen then and he wouldn’t listen to anyone but Della Kissel. He said no one could understand what a woman like Leslie thought. Maybe she’d planned it in advance.” Mrs. Lennon turned her head away for a moment. “I’m sorry for getting so angry.”
“Did you tell Frank?” Nate asked softly.
Mrs. Lennon looked back at him. “I did. He wrote everything down and I think he threw it in a box. Brody won’t listen to anything.” She tightened her lips. “You’re going to break Terri’s heart, aren’t you? We’ll add you to the list of people who have done it.”
Nate was startled by the quick change of subject. “Do you mean whatever happened with Billy Thorndyke?”
“Yes. No. I mean what this whole town has done to her.”
Nate saw that her face had an expression of guilt. “You know something, don’t you? Leslie—”
“This isn’t about Leslie.”
“Mom! Are you here?” The voice came from the other side of the tent.
Instantly, Mrs. Lennon stood up and began to speak quickly and softly. “There are ugly secrets in this town and they should be exposed. Let the light shine on them. It’s not fair that girls like Stacy Hartman get so much and the Terri Rayburns of the world get so little. They should—”
“There you are.” Kris looked from her mother to Nate and frowned. “I need help out here and I think other people do too.” She pointedly glared at Nate.
He put h
is empty glass down and stood up. “That was very interesting, Mrs. Lennon. I had no idea so much was involved in running a flower shop. And yes, I think you’re right. I should send Terri some flowers of thanks. You choose and send me the bill.” He gave a smile at Kris and left them.
It took some work, but Nate managed to escape long enough to get to his car. He backed out around a dozen other vehicles and made his way to Terri’s house. As soon as he parked, he felt the first peace he’d experienced in what seemed to be a long time.
He practically threw open the door. “I’m—” He stopped himself from saying “I’m home.”
The house was empty. There was food on the kitchen counter and a note from Terri.
Everyone has been giving me things to eat—just before they tell me Dad screwed something up. Sorry, but I can’t be there for lunch. Too many wars going on to take time off. Tell Stacy hi from me. Maybe we can double-date some time. You love Widiwick yet? —Terri
Nate read the breezy little note a couple of times, smiling. There was a Post-it on the fridge. Sandwiches inside. She’d left him two big subs with some of Mr. Parnelli’s spicy beef. He took one and a beer and went outside to the chairs to sit and watch the chaos.
He sent a text to Hallie asking if he could spend a few days with her and Jamie. After today, he didn’t think Brody would want him back as a houseguest.
Only if you cook for us, she wrote back.
“At least someone wants me,” he said as he bit into his sandwich.
He was so relaxed that he was half-asleep when the door into the house was thrown open.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Frank Cannon yelled.
Nate turned in the chair and looked at the angry man. “Having lunch. Can I get you anything?”
“No. This is not your house and you have no right to treat it like it is.”
Nate got up, lunch things in hand and started back to the house, Frank close behind him.
“You know what Terri did this morning?” Frank asked.
Nate was throwing away his trash and straightening the kitchen he knew so well. He didn’t answer because it was a rhetorical question.
“She defended your ass, that’s what. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all PO’d at you.”
“I noticed,” Nate said. Brody had walked past him three times with no greeting. Elaine had waved but it wasn’t friendly.
“Terri told us to stop it. She said we were angry at you for being an honorable man. She said we were hating you for what we liked about you.”
Nate paused, his hand on the counter. He could imagine Terri saying those things. She took friendship to its highest level. “Terri and I never did anything inappropriate.”
Frank looked like he might explode. “Inappropriate?” He said the word as though it were filthy. “You kids today make me sick. You think that if you say it in a PC way then it’s okay. Do you really think what you did to Terri was ‘appropriate’? Just because you didn’t pay her the courtesy of showing her the lust I saw on your face, you think it’s all right? You should have left when you saw that she liked you so much. You knew you were engaged! But your ego liked having a pretty girl look at you like she did. What I want to know is what you’re playing at.” He stared at Nate, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know,” Nate said, and the honesty he felt came out in his words. “I’ll leave.”
“Yeah. I think you should. And stay away.”
“I have to help...” He motioned toward the lake.
“Of course you do. You worked hard to put yourself in the lives of the Rayburn family. You made them need you. But they were just something to entertain you, weren’t they? Something to occupy yourself while you waited for the mayor’s daughter to return.”
Nate could think of nothing to say. Turning, he left the house.
Chapter 12
It was Wednesday and Terri was ready for the whole festival to be over. It seemed to be worse this year. Four years ago they’d put a limit on the number of booths and that had caused a war. Brody had lost his temper after about three hours and said everyone could apply and he’d let them know who got in. The hint was that there would be a random draw. But he and Frank and three retirees had sat down with beers and chosen people they liked.
Elaine had stopped that favoritism and made the process more fair. So now they had a cross section of sellers, all of whom wanted the best spots.
Terri ran from one place to another, repairing things and trying to solve arguments. But she wasn’t very good at diplomacy. She found herself muttering, “Where is Nate?”
She’d seen him often, but every time she got near him, he said he had to go somewhere else. Behind him trailed the usual chorus.
“Nate fixed it”
“Nate solved it.”
But she knew that today something was different.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she caught him running from one disaster to another.
“Fine. I need to...” He waved his hand in a vague way.
“I know. You have to go solve some problems.” Yesterday she’d had to miss lunch with him. “Want to try for lunch today?”
“No!” he nearly shouted. “I mean, I have too much to do. I’ll see you... Whenever.”
As Terri watched him leave, she was frowning. What was wrong with him?! She was the one who was being left behind. Last night she’d stayed in her dad’s office until after ten. Anything rather than go back to her empty house. The night before she’d found one of Nate’s socks stuck in the dryer and she’d almost started crying. Again.
She’d angrily wiped at her eyes and told herself to get a grip.
Nate was with the woman he loved and probably spending fabulous nights of joyous sex with her. He had everything he wanted in life, so why did he look like he was miserable?
Three times she’d tried to talk to him, but he always ran away. Some friendship, she thought. They’d gone from sharing bottles of beer, sharing their lives, to not even speaking.
By about two, she was beginning to see some progress. The past participants had their booths up and were arranging their displays. Best was that they were generously helping the newbies.
Smiling, flexing her sore shoulders, Terri walked along the road. Nearly all the cabins had something set up in the front. Sometimes the owners used their porches to display things they’d made during the year. Candles were a popular item. The photo school—the one Nate had started—was advertising for students and displaying their shots.
She was near the bridge when she stopped to look at Stacy’s tent. It was magnificent: pristine white, a tall, slender, pointed section in the center. Like the petals of a flower, the wings spread out and were held up by tall poles. It was a piece of art!
Inside were beautiful rugs and furniture, nearly all of it upholstered in white silk. Exquisite little pillows in brightly colored silk were scattered about.
Whereas many of the booths looked like the homemade items they were, Stacy’s was professional. Glamorous. Anyone walking past would stop and gawk.
As Terri gazed in awe, she heard a short scream and saw what appeared to be a foot flying up in the air. She ran.
Stacy was hanging from a steel brace for the tent roof, her feet dangling, and the ladder was on the floor. Terri picked up the ladder, helped Stacy get her feet on it and held it.
“Thank you so much!” Stacy said. “I thought the thing was secure but it wasn’t.”
Now that she was inside the tent, Terri saw about twenty boxes that hadn’t been unpacked. “Do you need some help?”
“Would you? Could you? Please? I have so much to do and everyone is so busy.”
Terri pulled her knife out of her belt and began slicing tape on the boxes. “So where’s Nate?” She hadn’t meant to ask that, but it had come out.
“I have
no idea.” Stacy pulled what looked like an Aladdin’s lamp out of a box. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”
“Not a clue,” Terri said honestly as she unwrapped a white ceramic lamp. The decor seemed to have Moroccan overtones.
“May I vent? I know you and I have never been close, but right now I have no one to talk to and Nate is driving me insane.”
“Vent away.” Terri reached for the scarves Stacy was unpacking.
“When Nate and I lived together in DC, he was the most wonderful man I ever met. You should see him in a tuxedo! He’s big but if his clothes fit, he can look quite elegant.”
Terri was just glad when Nate took a shower. How many times had she told him, “You stink”?
“We went to dinner parties and galas. It was all like a dream. We had the most beautiful apartment. Everything was white. Carpet, curtains, upholstery, even the dishes. We were the color in the place.”
Terri remembered their worry of dropping pizza on white furniture. “Did you cook?”
“Oh yes. My mother taught me and I’m rather good at it. I believe in healthy and fresh. Nate and I went to a farmer’s market every Saturday morning and chose all our vegetables. I steamed everything. I made some rather nice sauces—nothing too spicy, but delicious.”
Terri was holding the ladder as Stacy stapled up some big, handwoven cloths. Nate’s many jars of spices were still in her kitchen. “I tend to live on pizzas and barbecue. And beer. That doesn’t sound like you and Nate.”
“Not at all. He’s quite good at choosing wine. We had red and white at every meal. Nate knows which glasses to use for every course.”
“Does he? I guess you know that he worked here while you were away. I never saw him drink anything but beer.”
“And I never saw him with anything but wine.”
The two women looked at each other.
“Which one do you think is the real Nate?” Terri asked.
“Mine,” Stacy answered quickly. “He was so smooth with all those politicians we met that I’m sure he’s learned to adapt to wherever he is. So, at the lake he dresses and eats like them. Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”
Met Her Match Page 17
