by Dara Girard
Soon the tears stopped and she stared at him. She didn’t see the boy with the wild reputation who was wearing a shirt so faded that the words couldn’t be read anymore, who looked so poor. Instead she saw a young man who had come to her aid and Melba’s aid, too. He wasn’t like her father or Mr. Lowell. He was different. He was everything her father told her to stay away from—he was mysterious, dangerous, tempting and her father wasn’t there. He couldn’t tell her what to do now.
“I’d better go,” he said, taking a step back.
“I meant what I said before. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. You’re the type of man songs are written about. The kind of man who braves the battlefields, who tames the wilderness and conquers new lands. You’re everything women admire about men.”
He took another step back. “Uh…you were just afraid.”
She took a step forward. “No, with you I could never be afraid.” She clasped his hand and placed the rag in it. “Somehow thank you doesn’t seem enough.”
He glanced down at her hand then slowly met her gaze. “It is,” he said in a raw husky voice.
His eyes clung to hers and neither moved. They didn’t dare. They knew the risk was great, but so was the temptation. Neither could remember who moved first, but the moment their lips touched they didn’t regret it for a second. To Suzanne, his lips were wet, warm and incredibly sweet. The impact of their kiss surprised them both, but they didn’t pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, but he drew away and said, “Give me your keys.”
“What?”
He held out his hand with impatience. “Just do it.”
She did and he opened the door and got into the driver’s seat of her red Mustang. “Get in.”
Suzanne followed his order, filled with questions. “What about your partner?”
“He knows how to get home.”
“What about you?”
“We’ll discuss that later.” And that was the last thing he said as he sped down the street. Minutes later he drove into a remote spot near the edge of town and turned off the engine and turned to her. “Now no one can see us.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure you do. You’re taking a risk getting involved with me.”
“I know that, too.”
He lowered his voice and gently caressed her cheek. “Do you know how much?”
She rested a hand on his thigh. “As long as no one knows, how much trouble could that be?”
He smiled. “So the judge’s perfect daughter has a rebellious side.”
“You’ll find out if you kiss me again.”
He did. More than once. And they went from the front seat into the backseat and that began their summer affair.
If only it had ended as innocently as it had started.
If only it had remained sneaking out at night and lovemaking in the backseat of a car. But somehow it had become more. She’d played her violin for him and he had shown her some of his inventions and the sketches for other ideas he had. They talked about their families and occasionally about the future.
For several weeks she’d allowed herself to believe that Rick had come to care for her as she had for him and perhaps things would have turned out different if Melba hadn’t blown her husband away with a shotgun.
Chapter 7
The incident divided the community along economic lines overnight. Mr. Lowell was a solid citizen who’d married beneath him. Many believed if things had been so bad his wife could have left; instead she’d turned to murder. When Melba was indicted, the first person Suzanne wanted to see was Rick so they set up a meeting place—the old red barn on one of the properties the Fulfords were trying to sell.
Suzanne arrived first and waited. When she heard footsteps she turned around.
“He’s not coming,” her father said with a cold smile.
Goose bumps scurried up her arms. “What do you mean?” she said, shocked to see her father standing there.
“Don’t play coy with me. I know what you’ve been up to these last couple of months and that’s fine. Just like young men sow their oats before they settle down, every young woman should have a chance to become experienced, too, before she marries. But summer’s almost over and that time is up.”
“Dad—”
“This trial is going to be dirty and I would hate it to spill over in unnecessary ways. I know that Rick used to go by a lot of young ladies’ houses, if you want to call them that. You know he’s very familiar with the ladies.”
“He’s been with me,” Suzanne replied defiantly, wanting and hoping to hurt him.
“No one’s to know that and if there were witnesses who saw him with Melba…” He let his words trail off, making his meaning clear. Witnesses would appear if he wanted them to. “He already has a bleak future. I’d hate to see it go any lower. Wouldn’t you?”
“Melba killed her husband in self-defense and Rick had nothing to do with it.”
Her father nodded. “Yes, that can be the story you tell once you’re engaged.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I just let him know that you changed your mind. I didn’t lie, did I?”
“I’m not giving him up.”
“He’s not worth keeping. You’d get better use from an old dishrag than to saddle yourself with a Gordon. I’ve known about them longer than you. They’re all bad. You’ve had your fun and now it’s over. You don’t want to fight me, Suzanne. I always win and I know what’s best for you.”
“You think you know what’s best for everyone.”
“That’s my job and I’m usually right.”
Suzanne spun away, knowing she couldn’t beat him. He was always right because he made sure things worked out in his favor. She drove home wondering what she could do next. Three times she drove to Rick’s house, but every time either his father or mother answered and closed the door in her face. Calling him wasn’t any better. Then one day she saw him coming out of Goodwin’s Hardware store. She called out his name before he got into his truck.
“Whatever my father said wasn’t true,” she said once she’d reached him.
“So you still want to see me?” he asked with a guarded look.
Yes. “I can’t.”
“So what part wasn’t true?”
“The reason why.”
He tossed his purchases inside the truck. “You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand,” he declared with cool detachment. “No big deal. We were just having fun.”
Each word fell on her heart like boulders. “Right.”
A pretty young woman in a bright pink dress that made Suzanne look as though she was wearing a burlap bag, came up to him and whispered something in his ear. Her name was Hannah Fulford and she was Della’s second cousin. Her family owned two stores and she was allowed more liberties than the other girls in Anadale because her father was dead and her mother couldn’t control her.
Rick smiled in response to her words, patted her on the butt and said, “See you tonight.”
Hannah glanced at Suzanne. “No need to worry about me, Suzanne, no one else does.” She grinned and turned as Rick watched her saunter away. He looked at Suzanne with a bored expression. “As you can see I’m not heartbroken.”
“Right,” she said again, her mouth dry. It was all she could say. If she said any more she was afraid she’d cry and embarrass herself. He’d moved on. She meant nothing to him. She’d been just another notch on his belt. She’d been foolish to expect more.
“I know I won’t get an invitation, but I know you’ll make a beautiful bride.” He got into his truck and closed the door. “Goodbye, Suzanne.”
“Goodbye.” She watched him drive off, letting the dust mingle with her tears.
That year Melba was convicted of murder and the year after Suzanne became Mrs. Wallace Lyon. She rarely saw Rick before he moved away. Years later, after a loveless and childl
ess marriage, Suzanne divorced and left town. But now she and Rick were back in Anadale.
But she knew she wasn’t back to stay. And she wouldn’t be hurt again. Suzanne turned from the attic window, wishing she could block out her memories. The next day roses arrived from Wallace, after that Belgian chocolates. He sent a different item every day for the entire week. She kept the gifts because she knew returning them would only make him more determined. She didn’t know why he wanted her back, but didn’t care. A week later she received the call she’d been hoping for.
“He made an offer on the house,” Della told Suzanne over the phone.
“Who?”
“Rick. He’ll buy it at the asking price.”
Suzanne sank into her chair, relieved. “Wonderful, tell him I accept.” Now she’d be free to leave town and start over.
“Great,” Della squeaked. “Toodles.”
On the day of the signing, Suzanne wore her most stylish outfit and a broad-rimmed white hat. At last the burden of the house and her father’s debts would be over. When she entered the office building and saw Rick sitting on a bench in the hallway, Suzanne did a double take. She couldn’t believe the gorgeous man in the business suit was the same one who’d mowed her lawn over a week ago. He looked like a worldly stranger and his suit seemed to hide all that she knew he was. Then she saw an attractive woman pass by him and also give him a second look, which he returned in kind. The woman blushed and hurried off. Rick grinned at her. At that moment, Suzanne knew no suit could completely hide his character. When it came to women, Rick was a wolf, just like the rest of them.
He stood up when he saw her. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Suzanne took off her hat and looked at the office door. “Why are you waiting outside? Is something wrong?”
“No, I was waiting for you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say so she knocked on the door to the lawyer’s office. A petite, perky young woman, wearing a tie-dye sundress and a pair of four-inch killer high heels, opened the door and invited them to enter. She led them into a small conference room. Suzanne set her hat on the table and sat. “Della better not be late for this.”
Rick sat beside her. “Don’t worry, I saw her in the hall, she’ll be right back.”
“Good.”
They turned when they heard the door open, but instead of Della there was the woman from the hallway. She leaned over Rick and whispered something in his ear then slipped a piece of paper in his hand before leaving. Rick absently shoved the note in his jacket pocket.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Suzanne asked.
He rested his arms on the table and grinned. “I already know what it says.”
“Of course.” Probably a phone number with the words Call me.
He reached into his pocket. “Would you like to see?”
“No,” she said too quickly.
He shrugged. “You seemed interested.”
“I’m not interested. Just curious.”
“Hmm. Two words that mean the same thing.”
Suzanne began to argue, but at that moment Della returned with the lawyer responsible for the closing, and they got down to business. Suzanne barely looked at the stack of documents before signing them. She wrote her name with the same flourish as she signed her books. She pushed the papers over to Rick and watched him sign. She didn’t know she was holding her breath until he set his pen down. At last it was over. The house was now his. Her problems were over.
She didn’t know who handed her the cashier’s check, she just remembered the feel of the paper in her hand and all that it represented.
“How about lunch?” Rick asked.
Suzanne glanced up and saw him standing beside her. She folded up the check and put it in her purse. “I can’t. I have errands.”
He leaned against the table, looking every bit the wealthy man he was—handsome, debonair, inviting. “I guess it doesn’t help, huh?”
She stared up at him unsure. “What?”
“My money. You still don’t want to be seen with me in public.”
Suzanne stood and put on her hat. “That’s not true.”
“It was true at one time.”
“And you don’t want me to forget that, do you?”
“I’m asking you to lunch.”
Suzanne headed for the door. “Another time.”
He followed her. “I doubt there will be one,” he scoffed. “How long are you planning to stick around?”
“A few weeks,” she said, wishing he would leave her alone. “I have thirty days to get things packed up and get out of the house.”
“So you won’t be sneaking out of town soon?”
“I don’t sneak.”
He shoved a hand in his pocket. “You’re sure you don’t want lunch?”
“I’m sure.”
“Even if it’s just an hour?”
“Yes.”
“I hate eating alone.”
She stopped and stared at him. “Then find someone else, you always could.” She started to walk away.
He stepped in front of her. “How about dinner?”
“No.” She moved to the side.
He blocked her again. “Breakfast?”
“Definitely not.” When he blocked her path again she threw up her hands, aggravated. “Why would you want to eat with me?”
“I had fun last time. I know you did, too.”
She rested a hand on her hip.
“Do you deny it?”
“We hardly said anything.”
“It’s possible to be with someone and not say a word.”
She rested her other hand on her hip fully understanding his sexual overtone. Although heat flooded her cheeks she refused to be intimidated. “Listen. I’m no longer a virgin filled with lust. Promises, tokens and a suggestion of a ‘good time’ can no longer seduce me. Men can use those well worn methods to lead other women into misery, but I’ve traveled that path before and I’ve chosen another direction. I suggest you put that phone number to good use and leave me alone.”
“I’m glad you still know about it.”
“What?”
“Lust.”
She widened her eyes. “I didn’t say—”
He loosened his tie. “You didn’t have to say anything. I can read your eyes.” He leaned toward her. “And your eyes don’t lie.” He held her gaze. “How about lunch tomorrow?”
“Then you’ll leave me alone?”
“I thought you didn’t like promises.”
She briefly closed her eyes and let out a fierce sigh. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up.”
Suzanne watched him leave, his cocky walk making it clear that the wolf was on the prowl, but she was determined that she wouldn’t be his prey.
“Goodness, he’s even better from this angle,” Della said behind her.
“And he knows it,” Suzanne grumbled. “I’m just glad that’s all over. The house is sold.” She remembered the check in her purse, said goodbye to Della and raced to her car. Once inside, she pulled out her cell phone and called their family lawyer, Mrs. Maloney, and told her about the house sale.
“At least that’s something,” she said.
Suzanne paused, stunned by her lack of enthusiasm. “What do you mean ‘that’s something’? I thought you wanted me to sell the house.”
“I did, but that will only cover the mortgages. Let me remind you of your father’s other debts,” Mrs. Maloney said and started to read a list. By the tenth item Suzanne groaned and shut her eyes.
“Okay,” she said, resigned. “I get it. I’m not out of the woods yet.”
“Honey, you’re not even out of the forest.”
She rubbed her temple. “What am I going to do?”
“I’ve been to the house. You have some very nice furnishings and I know an antiques dealer who could get them sold at an excellent price.”
“An auction?” Suzanne said, appalled.
“I can’t have the town know that I’m selling my family heirlooms.”
“We’ll conduct a discreet auction. It will be out of town. Just you leave things to me. I’ll have my man stop by tomorrow.”
“Right,” Suzanne said in a flat voice. “Could he come in the morning? I have a lunch—uh…meeting.”
“Say ten?”
“That will work. Thank you.”
“Suzanne, things will work out.”
“Hmm,” she said, wanting to believe her.
At home Suzanne looked at all her family possessions with a sinking sensation that threatened to choke her. There was the decorative, ornate writing desk in her father’s study that reminded her of the few fun times she spent pretending to be her father’s secretary when she was a child. In the hallway sat an antique Chinese vase, which was used as an umbrella stand. But the one item she knew she would miss the most was the large mahogany coatrack her great-great-grandfather had made by hand. It was considered a family heirloom and Suzanne felt a surge of sadness, knowing that now money had become more important than memories. Her heart ached and she felt a lump in her throat, but she was determined not to cry.
The next day Suzanne flipped through the few items in her closet wondering what she should wear for her meeting with Rick. She’d given most of her wardrobe to a consignment shop for money. She finally selected a light blue silk pantsuit. She ate a quick breakfast, but barely had a chance to finish when she heard the antiques dealer drive up. She dumped her dishes in the sink and ran to the front door. She opened it before he could knock.
He was a short man with long blond hair and a mustache. They briefly chatted, and then he went quickly through several rooms, ending in the living room. She silently watched him and after a few minutes he shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rand,” he said as they stood in the foyer.
“Why?”
“They’re all fakes.”
She laughed, certain he was joking. “They can’t be.”
His mustache twitched with dismay. “They are. Here, let me show you.” He took the two battered umbrellas out of the Chinese vase and turned it upside down.
“Do you see what is written here?” He beckoned for Suzanne to take a closer look. The wording said “Made in China.” Then he showed her what was wrong with the old grandfather clock that sat on the mantle in the living room, it had remade parts that were clearly made in the twentieth century. Next he showed her that the dining room table and chairs were not totally made of wood, but had veneered Formica inserted in the joints.
