Even as she thought she could tell him the truth, that she was completely in love with him, she dismissed the idea. Why make him feel bad? It wasn’t as if he was going to love her back.
“I’m sure we can come to some kind of an agreement,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“Just what I said. Do you want to be part of the baby’s life? I’m open to that. I’m staying here in Fool’s Gold. While you’ll probably be racing all over the world, this is your home base. So when you’re in town, we’ll have a schedule or something.”
He frowned. “And that’s what you want?”
“It seems the most rational approach.”
“Nothing more?”
She tried not to flinch. What did he expect her to tell him?
“What more did you have in mind?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Something.”
“When you get it figured out, let me know. We’ll talk about it.”
He studied her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I have no idea.”
“There’s something.”
She gazed at him, willing her expression to stay neutral. If he guessed how she felt, he would feel sorry for her. Worse, he might try to make things better by offering a crumb or two of attention. Not exactly the road to happiness.
Finally he stood. “I guess we have time to figure it out.”
She nodded.
He hesitated for a second, then left.
When she was alone, she breathed out a sigh of relief. One conversation down, who knows how many left to endure. She told herself it would get easier and hoped she was telling the truth.
But before she could turn back to her computer, Bernie hurried in. Her normally calm expression was tense.
“You won’t believe it,” she began. “I don’t believe it.”
“What are we talking about?” Charity asked.
“The money. The missing money.” Bernie put her hands on her hips. “I found it.”
Charity blinked at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Well, I found most of it. Some has already been spent, but most of it is sitting in an offshore account. It wasn’t easy to trace, but I’m good at what I do. I’m just so pissed.”
Charity almost didn’t want to ask. “Who took it?”
“It’s always the person you least expect. I should know that by now. But once again I was sucked in by a friendly smile and an offer to help.”
“Who?” Charity repeated.
“Robert.”
She stood and stared at Bernie. “No. I don’t believe it.” Robert? Quiet Robert who lived alone and cared way too much about the Civil War? “He’s the one who figured out the money was missing and reported it.”
“I know. He was angry about the money, too. Always talking about how whoever took it was stealing from the good people of Fool’s Gold. I bought it. Hell, I even went to dinner with him.”
“Me, too,” Charity murmured, unable to take it in. Robert? Not possible. “You’re sure?”
“There’s a paper trail leading right back to him. I found it through dumb luck, which annoys me. There are money transfers, withdrawals. He’s good, I’ll give him that. Just not good enough.”
“What happens now?”
Bernie rolled her eyes. “I’ve already called your police chief to take him into custody while I notify state authorities. She’ll be here any second. I’m just so mad. He had me completely fooled.”
“He had all of us fooled,” Charity said, still not able to believe it. “Is he going to jail?”
“For a really long time. I have to go make those calls.”
“Do you need me to do anything?” Charity asked.
“Just don’t tell anyone I thought he was a nice guy.”
“You and me, both.”
After Bernie left, Charity tried to go back to work, but she couldn’t think. Robert the thief? The information proved that once again she was a horrible judge of character. She’d been convinced his only flaws were that he was a little boring and kind of a mama’s boy. Instead he’d stolen millions of dollars, spearheaded the investigation, most likely to keep attention off himself, and had fooled an entire town.
She was furious. Beyond furious. She’d actually felt bad about not wanting to go out with him. Talk about a new level of stupid!
She stood and crossed to her window, where she saw the police cars pull up. In a matter of a minute or two, Robert would be in custody.
Still pissed, she went down the hall and entered Robert’s office. He glanced up and smiled.
“Hello, Charity. How’s it going?”
“Not well for you. Did you really steal that money?”
His expression twisted a little. There was a second of confusion, followed by surprise, then an annoyingly smug look.
“What a question. I’m insulted.”
“Are you? I don’t think so.” She studied him, looking for the truth. “How? No, wait. That doesn’t matter. Why? That’s the more important question. Why would you take money from the town? Did you really think we were all so stupid that you wouldn’t get caught?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he told her. “But if I did, no one would find out.”
“Is that what you think? That you’re smarter than all of us?” She leaned against the doorframe. “Sorry, Robert. It turns out Bernie’s even smarter than you.”
The smugness faded. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s already called the chief. Apparently she found your secret accounts and has everything she needs to put you away for a long time.”
He sprang to his feet and started for the door. She stepped out of the way and watched him fly toward the stairs. Seconds later he tripped on Bernie’s outstretched foot and went tumbling onto the marble floor. He lay sprawled there on his belly. Sheriff Burns climbed the stairs and calmly put her foot on the small of his back.
“I was halfway home when I got this call,” the sheriff told him, not sounding happy. “I don’t like it when anyone messes with my plans.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I FEEL SO USED,” Marsha said the next morning as she and Charity sat in the mayor’s office. “I liked Robert. I believed in him.”
“I dated him,” Charity said, shaking her head. “I felt bad that I didn’t like him more. How did this happen?”
“We were too trusting,” Marsha told her. “He had such excellent recommendations.”
“Is this where we talk about what a nice, quiet man he was?”
News had spread quickly. Not only had Robert stolen the town’s money, he’d been using a false name. Apparently the circumstances under which his elderly mother had died were suspicious and he was sitting in the city jail, waiting to be extradited back to Oregon for a possible murder charge.
“I have inherited my mother’s bad taste in men,” Charity said glumly. “Here’s one more example.”
“Robert doesn’t count. You barely went out with him.”
“I had no sense there was anything wrong with him. That should be a few points against me.”
“Half a point,” Marsha told her. “How are you feeing?”
“Fine. No obvious symptoms yet. No weird cravings or morning sickness.”
“Have you talked to Josh recently?”
“Since the original announcement? He came by and asked me what I want from him. When I didn’t have an answer, he said we would work it out. It was a thrilling moment for me.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Some. And angry.”
“Because he couldn’t read your mind?”
Partly, but Charity wasn’t going to admit that. “Why do I have to do the asking? Shouldn’t he be offering? This is as much his child as mine.”
“So you want him to do the right thing. Are you waiting for him to propose?”
“No.” She tried to put a little force behind the word. “I want him to…” She wanted so much—it was difficult to
pick just one direction. “I want him to want to be with me and the baby. I’m not interested in doing anything because he thinks he has to.”
“Does he know you want to be with him?”
Charity didn’t want to answer that either.
“You have a hard time asking for what you want,” Marsha said. “Is it because your mother was never there for you?”
“Probably. I don’t trust easily.”
“What has Josh done to make you not trust him?”
“Nothing,” she admitted reluctantly. “But look at his past. He wants to get back into racing. He wants everything that goes with it.”
“Or maybe he just wants to know he hasn’t failed.”
An interesting point, Charity admitted grudgingly. But before she could figure out what to say, Sheryl stuck her head in the door.
“Charity, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s Dr. Daniels from the hospital committee. He says it’s important.”
“Thanks.” Charity rose.
“You can take it here,” Marsha told her. “I’ll go get some coffee.”
“Thanks.” Charity waited until she was alone in the mayor’s office, then picked up the phone. “Hello, Dr. Daniels.”
“Ms. Jones. How are you?”
There was something about his voice. A hesitation. Her heart sank. “I’m good. What’s going on?”
“You know we really enjoyed your presentation and everyone on the committee thinks the town is great.”
Here came the but.
“But we have some concerns. While Fool’s Gold is a great town, it’s small and you already have one hospital. We’re concerned we won’t have enough of a workforce to support the new hospital and we didn’t see much in the way of community support.”
The need to scream grew, but she forced herself to breathe deeply and calmly. “Dr. Daniels, we have a very well-educated workforce and a community that is beyond eager to embrace the new hospital.”
“I’m sure you think that’s the case, Charity—”
“I don’t think it, I know it,” she said, interrupting him. “And I can prove it. Please give me one more chance with the committee.”
There was a long pause. “I’ll give you that because you’ve impressed me from the beginning. However, I’ll warn you, we’ve already voted on the other site.”
“Then I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” she said, determined to sound positive when she felt crushed inside.
“Friday,” Dr. Daniels said. “Nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be ready.”
They hung up. Charity staggered to the sofa and collapsed, then covered her face with her hands.
Three days. She had three days to find a miracle. Three days to come up with a way to convince the hospital committee that yes, there was plenty of local support, not to mention a trained workforce. She’d already provided plenty of statistics, shown them Fool’s Gold, offered tax and housing incentives. What was left?
“Not good news?” Marsha asked when she returned to her office.
Charity briefly outlined what had happened. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “We were so close. I know they liked our town better, so why are they balking?”
“Is the other city larger?”
“Yes. It’s about twice the size, but it doesn’t have any of our charm. The location isn’t close to this nice, they don’t have a better trained workforce and I know we’re more enthusiastic than they are. Why won’t they believe me?”
“I guess you’re going to have to show them.”
“How? How do I prove something they’ve already seen but won’t believe?”
“Give them proof they can’t ignore.” Marsha patted her arm. “Ask, Charity. Ask for what you want.”
For someone used to being in complete control, the concept was impossible to imagine, let alone do. “How?”
Marsha gave her an enigmatic, grandmotherly smile. “You’re going to have to trust me,” she said. “And the town.”
Trust someone with her future? Her job? “What if I can’t?”
“Take a leap of faith. Let us surprise you.”
* * *
GERALD SATERLEE WAS AN annoying sonofabitch, Josh thought as he pushed himself to ride faster. Sweat poured down his back, his legs ached, but he wasn’t about to let some second-rate French racer beat him during a practice run.
Saterlee had shown up in Fool’s Gold the day before, a week ahead of anyone else arriving for the race. He claimed to want to acclimate, but Josh knew better. The bastard had been sent ahead to check him out and report back. The world of racing wanted to know if Josh Golden still had it.
A smart strategy would be to let Saterlee beat him easily so no one would have any expectations. That had been Josh’s plan. But as soon as they started riding, he’d felt his competitive nature kick in. He couldn’t do it—couldn’t let Saterlee think he was better.
They continued up the hill, most of the high school racers falling back. Brandon kept pace, but he was fading fast. Josh looked up at the few miles of hill left and knew that it would just be him and Saterlee in a few minutes.
Sure enough, a mile short of the peak, Brandon slowed. “Sorry, man,” he yelled.
Josh waved at him and continued to pump his legs.
His body had been honed for this, he told himself. He’d been riding every day for the past two years. He’d worked out in the gym, strengthening every part of him. While his brain had been busy healing, his body had been preparing for a comeback. Now he would find out if he’d managed to pull it all together.
As they closed in on the highest point in the road, Josh felt that magic surge of energy. The sense that there were plenty of reserves, that he could ride forever. He glanced at Saterlee and saw exhaustion in his eyes. Josh knew he wasn’t just winning. This was better—it was certainty.
He slowed suddenly and reached down to rub his calf. As if something hurt. He bent his head to hide any hint of satisfaction. Saterlee looked back, grinned like an idiot and rode on. Josh watched him go.
Word would spread quickly. They would say he wasn’t what he’d once been. That the comeback was about ego rather than ability. They would speak of him sadly, with respect, but on the inside they’d be pleased.
He could live with that, he told himself. Because on the day of the race, he would kick their collective asses. And then he would walk away, having won it all. It was going to be a good day.
* * *
THE TV STUDIO WAS exactly as Charity remembered, only this time she was the one being interviewed, not Josh. And there was no one salivating to have sex with her. Probably a good thing, she thought. She was freaked out enough about the possibility of losing the hospital. The idea of having to deal with an aggressive suitor would probably push her over the edge.
Unless the guy in question was Josh, she thought sadly. Him she would like to see. But the last couple of days had been crazy busy, with her trying to pull together a new presentation. Josh had left her a couple of messages. She’d returned his calls only to miss him, as well. She’d seen him around town, training for the upcoming race, but hadn’t been able to do much more than wave.
At some point they were going to have to have an actual conversation. Make decisions. Be grown-ups. But apparently not today.
The local reporter, a pretty woman about Charity’s age, waited until Charity was seated comfortably. The sound girl had already put the mike on her and someone had put a light meter in front of her face.
“How long do you think you’ll need?” the reporter asked. “We don’t like the segments to go past two minutes.”
“Not a problem,” Charity told her. “I plan to beg quickly.”
“Is this about the hospital bid? I thought they loved us.”
“So did I. They have some concerns, which is why I’m here.”
“Damn. My mom wants me to marry a doctor.” The reporter flashed a smile. “Easier to do if there’s a new hospital.”
&nbs
p; Charity laughed, then straightened in her chair when the reporter indicated they were ready to begin. A few seconds later, bright lights clicked on.
“I’m sitting here with Charity Jones, Fool’s Gold’s new city planner. One of Charity’s current projects is convincing a California hospital to open their newest campus here in town. How’s that going, Charity?”
Charity stared into the camera. She drew in a breath and told herself to go for confident and capable.
“We’ve had excellent negotiations,” she began, then went through a few of the particulars. “Unfortunately, we seem to have hit a little bump in the road.”
“How’s that?”
“The planning committee has some concerns.” Charity explained about the need for local support and a training program for nurses and technicians. “I’m meeting with the committee in two days. If anyone has any ideas, please e-mail me directly.” She gave her e-mail address. “Or you can call City Hall and leave me a message.” She gave that number, as well. “A hospital of this size would be a great benefit to the community. While our current hospital is excellent, the new hospital offers a trauma center. This town deserves the facility. I’m determined to make it happen, but I’ll need your help. Thank you.”
* * *
FRIDAY MORNING CHARITY COULDN’T eat breakfast. She’d been up most of the night, reviewing her presentation. Adding and deleting points until she could barely remember what she was supposed to be talking about.
But as she slipped on her shoes and checked herself one more time in the mirror, she felt a kind of calm. Whatever happened, the town had come through for her.
After her TV appearance, so many e-mails had flooded her inbox, the city’s computer system had shut down for three hours. On Thursday, it had been overloaded and fizzled for half the day. She’d received phone calls, hand-delivered notes and dozens of ideas. Many of them had been excellent and had rounded out her presentation. Now she could only hope a small percentage of those people actually showed up, demonstrating to the committee that Fool’s Gold was the right place to build.
She left the hotel shortly after eight and made her way to City Hall. The meeting was at nine. She’d reserved the large auditorium in the basement, hoping she wasn’t being too optimistic. It seated about two hundred. If they could get fifty or sixty people there, that would help. A hundred would be better.
Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing PerfectAlmost PerfectSister of the BrideFinding Perfect Page 25
