by Sally John
A hand touched her shoulder.
She whirled around into a brown uniform.
“Lia. I guess you couldn’t hear me calling you.”
“Cal! Have you seen Chloe?”
“No.”
Lia swiveled her head, eyes sweeping the area. “I must find her. She’s here with Anne Sutton’s daughters.”
“They’ll turn up eventually.”
“I can’t wait until eventually!”
He gently grasped her hands and lowered his face, forcing her to stand still and meet his eyes. “Lia, what’s wrong?”
A wave of fear constricted her throat. “I can’t find her!” she choked.
“Is she missing?”
Lia struggled, fighting for control.
“Was she supposed to meet you?”
“At seven.”
“It’s not six-thirty yet.”
“But I need to see her now!”
“She’s fine. The Sutton girls are dependable. She’d stay in the square with them, wouldn’t she? She’s new here. I’m sure she’ll stick close.”
Lia’s knees wobbled. She gripped his hands that still held hers and drew strength from his calm solidity. “But kids will be kids.”
“And this is where the action is, where they’ll hang, in the middle of this crowd.”
A blonde appeared at his side. “There you are, Calhoun!”
He straightened, dropping Lia’s hands. “Tammy. Hi.”
“Hi yourself, big guy.” The young woman stretched on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Lia willed herself to stand still and act normal. Cal was right. The children would stay put.
The stranger tossed her white-blonde shoulder-length hair and pouted glossy mauve lips. “I wanted my little nephew to meet you, but he’s over there on the merry-go-round.”
“I’ll be working here all night. Catch me later. Have you met Lia Neuman yet?”
“No,” she turned toward her, “but my mother has told me all about you.” Her tone had gone flat.
Cal said, “Lia, this is Tammy Cassidy.”
It took her a moment to respond. “Oh! You’re Dot’s daughter! Nice to meet you finally.” Her voice was tight. She felt the polite façade slipping.
Tammy shook her outstretched hand. “Likewise, I’m sure.”
“I have to go.”
As she turned away, Cal called, “I’ll keep an eye out. Where are you meeting?”
“At the pavilion.”
Again Lia scrutinized each passing youngster. The garish lights and music compounded the frantic beating of her heart.
“Tammy, I can’t hold hands while I’m on duty.” Cal untwined his fingers from hers.
“Well, you were holding hands with her.”
“Who? Lia? I was trying to calm her down. She was spinning around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
Tammy squeezed his forearm. “My hero with the beautiful green eyes. Saving a damsel in distress. What was her problem?”
“She can’t find her daughter.”
“Oh, yeah. Mom told me she had a daughter. And no husband.”
“Kind of like half the world. Tammy, I need to move on. I hope you’re not staying late and driving home in the middle of the night.”
“Twin Prairie is only 23 miles down the road.” She fiddled with a button on his shirt. “Of course, you could invite me to stay in town.”
“I’m sure your mother would put you up.”
She slapped his chest. “Oh, you! Whenever you’re wearing that uniform, you just tune me out.”
He heard the hurt beneath her exasperation. “Tam, it’s a discipline thing. If you’re not a damsel in distress, I gotta move on.”
She stomped her foot on the ground. “I am in distress! I miss you!”
Cal laughed and walked away. “See you.”
“Goodbye!”
He strolled through the crowd, studying the faces. Some of the kids were familiar to him, the older ones because they’d been in trouble, the younger ones because they were children of his classmates. That fact always brought him up short. He couldn’t imagine having kids already. Come to think of it, he couldn’t imagine having a wife, let alone kids. He and Tammy were on the same wavelength with that concern. It was one of the things he liked about her. Right after her looks.
She was a lot younger. They hadn’t known each other growing up in Valley Oaks, but he knew she had won different beauty pageants, county fair queen kind of stuff. She could have been a model, but instead settled in Twin Prairie where she taught preschool. She was good-looking.
Speaking of looks, what did Lia’s little girl look like? Would he even recognize her? She had been asleep that night. He knew her hair was shorter than her mom’s, but just as black. When he had laid her down on the bed, he noticed her creamy skin, like her mom’s. What was it called? Porcelain. That was it, like dolls. Two china dolls plunked down in the middle of Valley Oaks.
Cal made his way to the picnic area. Long lines of people stretched from the food tent, eager to get the town’s famous grilled pork chop sandwiches. He greeted folks, rounded the end of the lines, and spotted Lia in the nearby playground, kneeling before a dark-haired little girl and hugging her tightly.
Well, that situation was resolved. Apparently the new pharmacist was a little high strung when it came to her daughter.
That niggling corner of his mind stirred. What was it? Yeah…that was it…the outdated alarm system. And the back door’s flimsy lock. Apparently Lia wasn’t overly concerned when it came to home security. But wasn’t that and the kid’s security one and the same?
Hmm. Something didn’t jibe here.
Six
Tony popped the last of his pork chop sandwich into his mouth. They certainly did know how to cook around these parts, he had that to say for them.
He chided himself for the uppity attitude. Not everyone south of Chicago was a closed-minded bigot who thought a whining voice set to twanging guitars was music. Take Izzy, for instance. Though unsophisticated, she had gone to college and was bilingual and bicultural. No, he had to admit that the majority of Valley Oaks residents he had met so far weren’t the stereotype he imagined. Homemade and maybe a bit hokey, but decent and open. Only those three men in the café the other morning displayed true redneck colors. They drove big ugly trucks, spoke loudly, chewed loudly, and teased the waitress mercilessly. From their undisguised scrutiny of his person, he figured their notion of him was highly suspect. He did what he could to display his own rendition of machismo, winking and smiling at the waitress before making a mental note to leave his Gucci loafers at the motel from now on.
He looked across the picnic table where Dot Cassidy sat, dabbing daintily at the cole slaw dressing at the corner of her mouth. She was older, attractive, and no doubt a knockout in her younger years when the platinum didn’t come from a bottle. The tone of her eager friendliness, though, led him to believe that she was the town’s leading gossip who bent stories as easily as she batted her mascara-laden eyelashes. Her husband probably drove one of those big ugly trucks.
Tony gave himself a mental shake. He was a journalist. Professionally, he needed an unbiased posture when researching a story. Even if he threw out three-fourths of what Dot told him, there would be useful nuggets. He focused on her again, shutting out the noise and bright lights of the Valley Oaks annual ritual called the Autumn Faire. “Excuse me?”
“I was wondering if you would use my name.” She pulled a compact from her purse and proceeded to apply another layer of bright pink lipstick.
“Yes, Mrs. Cassidy. Unless you want to remain anonymous.”
“Tony, please! I told you to call me Dot. And my goodness, no, I don’t want to be anonymous in something the whole nation’s going to read!” Although no one was sitting near them, she leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Now, I don’t like to say anything derogatory about Brady, but the guy is not perfect. Nobody is. Did you know his dad was marrie
d to Gina Philips’ mother? We were all in the same high school class.”
“Wait a minute. Brady’s related to Gina?”
“Well, not exactly. It happened way before Neil married Barb and they had Brady. The Olafssons are rich farmers, so he was a spoiled kid. Had the money and the looks to get away with anything. He sure could play basketball.” Admiration slipped into her voice. “Made the state all-star team his junior and senior year. No one’s done that before or since.”
If I hear that fact one more time—
“What I’m saying is, life came easy for him. He got everything he ever wanted.” Dot’s smile bordered a smirk. “Except Nicole Frazell. She hightailed it out of here, leaving him high and dry and out a $10,000 ring.”
“He was engaged? When was this?” Tony jotted down the name in his small notebook.
Dot tapped the page with a long, pointed pink fingernail. “That’s one z, two ls. Let’s see. That would have been about four years ago.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged her hot pink padded shoulders. “Most people thought Nicole was nuts to let Brady slip through her fingers. I, on the other hand, imagine he just didn’t have what it took to keep her happy.”
A movement caught Tony’s eye beyond Dot. Uh-oh. Izzy was making her way through the picnic shelter. She stopped for a moment to talk to someone, but she kept glancing in his direction. The shelter’s yellow lights cast a muted glow on the subtle deep red tones of her thick hair. The chin in her heart-shaped face appeared more pointed and determined than usual.
He surreptitiously closed the notebook and slid it into the inside pocket of his lightweight sport coat. “Until this article comes out, Dot, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep the specifics of our talk here confidential.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Yeah, right. He swallowed the laughter that threatened to burst and hid his face by searching his pockets. He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “If you come up with any other,” he dropped his voice, “inside information, would you mind calling me? The motel number where I’m staying is written on the back.”
“Don’t you have any more questions for me now?”
Izzy was only one table away and approaching rapidly. He stood and offered his hand to Dot. “Afraid not. You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”
She shook his hand. “I’ll be glad to give you a call. We could talk half the night away. It sure doesn’t seem like I told you much.”
Tony disagreed. Her tidbit was priceless. Nicole Frazell left the Valley Oaks Golden Boy floundering in the dust for some reason.
Isabel was fuming. Dot Cassidy knew her pharmaceuticals like nobody’s business, but she also knew how to twist words into nonsense. Tony Ward had no right to accept that woman’s version of today’s date let alone anything she had to say about Brady!
Having wound her way through the perpendicular rows of picnic tables, Isabel reached where they were seated just as Tony stood. She caught Dot’s voice, demurring something about not telling him much. Ha! That’d be the day. If it were true, it’d be an answer to the prayer that only formed in her mind three minutes ago.
“Hello, Izzy.” Tony smiled.
She cringed. Now Dot knew the nickname she abhorred. Shiny new merchandise for the gossip peddler. “Hi, Tony. Dot.”
“Tony,” Dot’s tone accused, “you didn’t tell me you two knew each other. And where does the name ‘Izzy’ come from?”
He said, “In college—”
“We were,” Isabel cut in, taking no chances, “acquainted. Eons ago. Am I interrupting an interview?”
Tony replied, “Not at all. Have you eaten?”
“Yes. I was wondering if we could talk.”
He turned to the woman whose photographic memory was recording every nuance between them. Isabel hoped her jaw wasn’t obviously clenched. “Dot,” Tony said, “it has been delightful. Will you excuse me, please?”
“Only if you promise me lunch next time!” she giggled. “Just kidding. Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
Isabel added her goodbye and headed to the edge of the shelter. She veered off into the grass toward the street, nearly pitch black compared to the brightly lit park.
Tony caught up with her.
She snapped, “I wonder if the Tribune knows how it lucked out on this assignment?” Cattiness underscored her tone. “Your expense account won’t take much of a hit at the Valley Oaks Autumn Faire.”
“That’s what you think. We had the whole dinner with creamy slaw and cherry pie à la mode. Where are we going, by the way?”
“A quiet place.” She led him across the street to the front steps of the library. The lights, music, and laughter were muted here. Anger still churned in her stomach. No doubt Tony sensed it by now. There was no reason to mask it. She propped her hands on her hips and faced him. “Tony, what are you up to?” In spite of the attempted bravado, her voice quivered.
He walked the few remaining feet to the stoop and sat on a step, lounged back, and clasped his hands behind his head. “Am I missing something here?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question! You always did that.”
“And aggravated you to no end.”
That knocked the wind from her sails. She let the silence stretch between them while she struggled against remembering.
“Aggravating you, Izzy, was one of my favorite pastimes. If I kept you going long enough, your rs would start rolling like crazy and oh!” He clapped a hand to his chest and closed his eyes. “The way vowels would dance around in your mouth, like they were something physical! And then you’d start spewing forth in Spanish. You were the most intriguing young girl I had ever met.”
He used to say her speech was music to his writer’s ears. Whenever she was upset, she’d inadvertently slip into the rhythm of her parents’ accent. He would catch her unawares, egging her on to exasperation. “Tony, you were the most annoying guy on campus.”
“Which intrigued you.”
Which intrigued me, she silently assented, as well as your charm, your handsome face, and your intelligence. Probably in that order, in the beginning anyway.
He sobered. “It was an intense three months, wasn’t it?”
Again, she didn’t reply.
“Go ahead, yell at me, preferably in Spanish. Mine’s a little rusty.”
“Do you deserve a scolding?”
“What do you think?”
“Tony!”
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Izzy, I’m not meaning to aggravate you. I’m simply trying to get at what you’re really asking me. You know what I’m up to. I’m writing an in-depth article about the Christian artist’s influence on today’s society.”
“All right, I’m really asking what are you doing talking to Valley Oaks’ clearinghouse of gossip?”
“I recognized her as such.”
“Then why are you giving her the time of day?”
“I’m interviewing lots of folks in an attempt to get a more rounded view of your author.”
“Did she tell you about her daughter Tammy and Brady?”
“Is this gossip?”
“No. She told me her side of the story, he told me his, and I saw some of it. Brady and Tammy worked together on a committee for the Faire last year. Tammy went after him, flirting, asking him out. He wasn’t interested. Her ego was bruised. Her mother has held Brady in contempt ever since, blaming him for the entire situation.”
“Which leads you to believe her opinion is a little biased.” He chuckled. “Come on, Iz, give me more credit than you would a baboon writing this piece, huh?”
“You’ll not just take her word for something?”
“I won’t take anything she says as fact unless two others substantiate it. Fair enough?”
Isabel crossed her arms. His track record didn’t promote trust, but that was personal, something between the two of them. And it
was a long time ago. She took a deep breath, again pushing aside the memories. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her temper fizzled. With a start she recognized a bad habit she thought was long gone. Angered at the drop of a hat, she would fuss and fume for a while, and then feel better. The sight of Tony sitting with Dot had ignited it. Tony seemed to be igniting too many emotions.
She shook her head. “Sorry. Dot is just a needy person.”
“She seems pretty self-sufficient to me. Hey, I think I hear a band warming up.” He was changing the subject.
Isabel glanced toward the square. The giant black grills used for cooking the pork chops were shut. The crowd of food-tent workers and patrons had dwindled. People were gathering nearer the band shell where park benches had been removed from the concrete slab, opening it up for dancing.
She felt deflated. How she loved the Autumn Faire! This was her fourth one, and she had been anticipating for weeks the great fun and camaraderie it offered. And now here she was stewing over Tony’s presence. He was an outsider…he was going to tarnish this year’s memory…but then again…he didn’t have to, did he? After all, her reaction was her choice.
He was as needy as Dot, but he didn’t recognize it in himself. Maybe he had never seen Jesus in action. Maybe she could at least give him a glimpse of that. That, after all, was what he needed to experience for his article. Lord, love him through me? “Come on, Tony. You’ve got to catch the full flavor of this weekend. Let’s dance.”
“It’s country.” His tone balked.
“Ward, you always did have a snooty side. Now, wouldn’t it serve your best interests if you joined in rather than stood at a distance and observed like a condescending city slicker? Potential interviewees might see you as approachable if you do a little,” she lifted her arms and stepped sideways, “line dancing.”
He stood. “Good grief. You’ve gone Christian and country on me!”
Seven
Cal stood eye to eye with Brady and asked, “In public?”
