Just as Davis began telling her about a problem he’d been having with one of his heifers, Colby glanced behind him and caught sight of Ian in the kitchen with the other men, a smile on his face. He wore a white shirt and tie, apparently having taken off his suit jacket.
Lena and Luke were standing on the opposite side of the counter from him, Lena trying to explain something to him. Surprised, she watched as Lena went around to stand beside Ian. She picked up an egg and cracked it on the side of a measuring cup, showing him how to break it without getting any shells in the mixture, just as Colby had shown her years ago. Since Lena recently made a point of rejecting all advice or parental guidance from her, the sight did Colby’s heart good.
Ian picked up one and tried it himself. Lena reached for a fork and fished a piece of shell out of the cup. Something about watching the two of them together touched Colby. The only real male role models Lena ever had were her grandfather and Frank. Seeing her with Ian brought on familiar feelings of guilt for the things her life-style had caused Lena to miss out on.
Ian looked up just then and caught her gaze. He nodded at something Lena said, but he didn’t look away. Colby’s pulse quickened. The look couldn’t have lasted more than a moment or two, but it seemed like much longer. She forced her attention back to Davis, her voice a little unsteady when she said, “I’ll come out Monday and take a look at her if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that. Sometime after lunch?”
“Sure,” she said. “I haven’t said hello to my folks yet, so I’ll see you later.”
“Enjoy the breakfast, Colby,” he said, a wistful look in his eyes.
She joined her parents on the other side of the room, where they were chatting with Mabel Atkins. She kissed her mother on the cheek and gave her father and Mabel a hug.
“You’re looking awfully stylish today, Mabel.” Colby tilted her head at the woman’s green silk dress.
“When you get to be my age, you start hoping people notice the dress and not the way you look in it,” Mabel said with a chuckle. “You’re the one who gets prettier every time I see you.”
“We’d have to agree with you there,” Colby’s father said with a smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen?” she chastised him.
“Just taking a little break for as long as I can get away with it.”
She laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Me, either,” her mother agreed.
“Mabel introduced us to Mr. McKinley a little earlier,” Colby’s father said. “And she told us how you saved his life the other day.”
“It was no big deal,” she said, certain that Mabel had stretched the story into Paul Bunyan proportions.
“If you call nearly getting run over by a tractor no big deal,” Mabel objected. “If a person believed in fate and that kind of thing, I’d say the two of you—”
Not willing to let Mabel get started on that particular tangent, Colby said, “You know, it looks as if they’re asking us to be seated. We’d better find us a place before they’re all taken.”
Reverend Thomas called for the group’s attention. Once everyone grew quiet, he said, “I’d like to thank you all for coming. Our turnouts for this event keep getting better and better. I’d have to say it probably has something to do with the cooking skills of our volunteers in the kitchen.”
The men sent up a round of applause for themselves, and everybody laughed.
“I’d like to introduce two new faces to you this morning.” Reverend Thomas stepped back and summoned Ian and Luke forward. “Ian and Luke McKinley. They came as guests of Frank and Phoebe Walker. We welcome both of you to Keeling Creek and to our church. We hope you’ll feel at home here.”
“Thank you,” Ian said. Luke merely stood beside him looking uncomfortable.
All the women sat down while the men began serving the food. The women joked good-naturedly about whether or not it would be edible, even though the men had proved themselves in the past. The smells were mouth-watering—homemade biscuits with scrambled eggs and gravy and freshly brewed coffee.
Lena joined Colby and her mother at the far end of the table. Phoebe and her two boys sat across from them.
“Would you like to ask Luke to sit with us?” Colby asked Lena.
Lena shrugged, and looking as if it didn’t matter, said, “I already did. He said he’d just hang out in the kitchen.”
Colby knew her daughter well enough to recognize rejection on her face when she saw it.
Frank filed past with the gravy, ladling some over the biscuits on their plates. “This will no doubt be the best item on the menu,” he said with a wink. “I made it myself.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I might have to argue with that, since he barely knows the location of the frying pan at home.”
“Now, now, honey. We’ll just let the ladies judge for themselves.”
Behind Frank appeared Ian with a big blue bowl in his hands, the image somehow incongruous. He gave her a sheepish smile. “They put me in charge of the grits, and since I didn’t even know what they were until twenty minutes ago, I’m not making any promises on how they turned out.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Colby said with a half smile, uncomfortable, because her mother and Phoebe were taking in every word of the conversation.
He put some on her plate. “If it hadn’t been for Lena, they probably would have thrown me out of the kitchen.”
Lena smiled up at him, looking for the moment like her playful, lighthearted daughter of old, and Colby wondered if Ian had that effect on all the women who crossed paths with him.
24
THE NEXT DAY, Colby ran errands on her lunch hour, on her way out of Tinker’s Drug when she looked up to find Ian coming in.
“Hi.” He reached out to right a box of tissues threatening to slip out of one of her bags.
“Hi,” she said, her heart suddenly beating too fast.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ve got them. Really.”
He ignored her protests and took the bags from her. “Where are you parked?”
“Around the corner. But you don’t have to—”
“That’s the least I can do for someone who not only saved my life, but ate my grits without any obvious ill effects.” Smiling, Colby followed him, running a hand across her hair and wishing she’d thought to put on some lipstick.
At the truck, she unlocked the door, and he stuck the bags inside before turning to her and saying, “How about letting me treat you to some lunch? I still haven’t paid you back for saving my life.”
She should have said no. Any number of excuses would have been plausible enough to send her on her way. But she did have a little time before her next appointment. Reluctant as she was to admit it, lunch with Ian McKinley sounded appealing. “All right, I’ll take you up on it.”
Tinker’s Drug and Soda Fountain had been around for fifty years or more, unchanged to speak of during that time. It was busy now at lunch hour. Inside the front door, they were greeted by the smell of grill food, French fries and onion rings. They made their way down an aisle of soaps and toothbrushes to the snack bar at the back of the store. A row of booths lined one wall. The seats were red vinyl and squeaky-clean. A white Formica counter with red-topped bar stools offered a view of the grill.
This was one of Colby’s favorite places in Keeling Creek. Growing up, she’d come here with her dad every Saturday morning for a Coke float and a little spot of time that had been their own.
“Booth or counter?” Ian asked.
“Counter,” she said, thinking the booth sounded more intimate. Sitting there in full view would be less private, like they’d just run into each other. Which they had.
“Counter, it is.” He waited for her to take a stool and then sat down beside her.
Thomas Tinker approached them with a smile and a menu. He ran the place with the same pride his father had taug
ht him to have in the family establishment. “Hey, Colby. How’re things out at the clinic?”
“Busy,” she said.
“I believe it. Your waiting room stays busier than Doc Smiley’s office. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Ian McKinley. Ian, Thomas Tinker.”
The two men exchanged small talk, with Ian explaining that he’d recently moved to town. Thomas’s welcome sounded sincere.
“I can’t get used to the friendliness,” Ian said when Thomas left them with their drinks. “I guess the city’s made me a cynic, but I keep expecting to find out they’re putting me on or something.”
Colby smiled, fiddling with the edge of her menu. “Things are pretty different here.”
Thomas came back for their order. Ian ordered a burger, the house specialty.
“I’ll have my usual, Thomas.”
The older man shook his head. “Lettuce, tomato and cheese on a bun, coming right up.”
“Vegetarian?” Ian asked when Thomas headed for the kitchen.
Colby nodded. “Yep.”
“Never eaten meat?”
“When I was a kid, my mom didn’t consider the table complete without a roast or a baked chicken. I made up my mind about all that after I left home.”
Ian appeared to think about that for a moment, then said, “Mr. Tinker?”
Thomas turned from his stance at the grill. “It’s Thomas. What can I get you?”
“Cancel that burger. I’d like to try one of those veggie things she’s having.”
Thomas shook his head again. “She’s getting to you, huh?”
“My doctor has been after me to make a few changes in my diet. No time like the present to start.”
Surprised, Colby said, “I hope you didn’t do that because—”
“A veggie sandwich sounds good.”
Casual and easy, the declaration pleased her. Too much so. Most of the men she knew thought vegetables were for sissies. “So, you’re planning to fix up Oak Hill?”
Ian nodded. “I’d like to do most of the work myself, so it may take a while.”
“I actually had a notebook of plans, things I wanted to do to the place if I ever bought it,” she said on impulse, and then, feeling silly, added, “My dad and I used to drive by there about once a week when I was growing up. I always made him stop so I could look at it. It sat empty then. I thought it looked lonely. Like it needed a family. And it has one now.”
“I feel bad for messing up your plans,” Ian said.
She waved his apology away. “First come, first serve.”
“If it helps any, I don’t know how long I’ll hold on to it. I can’t say anything definite, but there’s a good possibility I’ll be willing to sell it at some point down the road.”
“Really? I mean, I guess that would make sense. When you move back to New York, you’ll hardly have any reason to keep a big house like that.”
“No, probably not,” he said. “I’ll certainly give you first dibs on it.”
It was a nice gesture. She should have been overjoyed. The house might still be hers, after all, but something about the thought of it fell flat now. “Thanks,” she said. “I really appreciate that.”
Ian took a sip of his iced tea. “At one time, it was a grand old place.”
“It would be again with the right person giving it what it needs. Sometimes things just need a little love and attention.”
“Yeah, I guess they do. That’s something I’ve realized myself recently,” Ian said.
She sensed the statement held more meaning than readily apparent. But Thomas brought their veggie burgers just then, and he didn’t elaborate. They ate in silence for the first few bites while conversation hummed around them. She felt a few gazes on them and knew the gossip would start within the afternoon. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she caught a glimpse of Louise Mason and her twelve-year old daughter waiting for a booth. Louise spotted her and all but sprinted over.
Colby managed a smile. “Hello, Louise. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, patting Colby’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Grace won out over reluctance. “Ian, this is Louise Mason. She owns the hair salon in town. Louise, Ian McKinley. But I don’t have to tell you who he is.”
Louise grasped Ian’s hand in a handshake that Colby knew from personal experience rivaled any sumo wrestler’s. “Well, I’ve just heard so much about you, Mr. McKinley. And I’m so glad to see you’ve managed to get our Colby out and about. We’d just about given up hope of her finding a good guy.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Mason,” he said, looking more than a little amused.
“Oh, it’s Louise,” she said, all but preening. If the woman hadn’t had a wedding ring on her finger, Colby thought Louise would have knocked her right off the stool and bowled Ian over with her charm. Colby said a prayer of thanks when Louise’s daughter called out to her from their table. “I’d better be getting back. You two enjoy your lunch,” she said, winking at Colby.
Colby lowered her forehead onto one hand and stared at the counter in mortification. “I can’t believe she said that.”
“She’s harmless,” he said, chuckling. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Really.”
“Easy for you to say.” The humor in the situation hit her, and she smiled in spite of herself. “I wonder what it would be like to live in a place where people actually have a little privacy.”
“Lonely, sometimes.”
“It might be worth it once in a while,” she said. “Being the eligible carrot on the end of the stick does get a little old. Fortunately, the positives of living in a place like this outweigh the negatives. The people who can’t keep their nose out of your business are the same ones who would be there for you in a flash if you ever needed their help. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, though. There will be talk, you know.”
“About what?”
“The two of us having lunch together. Louise will have everybody in the Dippety-Do informed within thirty seconds of getting back to the shop.”
Ian toyed with a French fry. “I’ve never cared too much about what other people think.”
Colby tilted her head and said in a low voice, “Since you’re engaged, I didn’t think you’d want anyone to get the wrong impression.”
He held her gaze for a moment too long while something inside her flared to life, the feeling inappropriate, she knew. Nonetheless, there.
“To be honest, I could use a friend here,” he said. “Does my engagement have to stand in the way of that?”
His question brought with it a surge of disappointment. From an adult standpoint, nothing wrong with the two of them being friends. They had two difficult teenagers in common. She found him easy to talk to, as, apparently, he did her. Friends. Nothing wrong with the two of them being friends.
“No, it doesn’t.” She pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to a meeting on Thursday night you might be interested in attending. The hospital hosts a lecture series each month. This month’s topic is ‘Understanding Your Teenager.’ I thought I’d go just to see if they can convince me there is any understanding them. You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”
“Fiction or nonfiction?” he asked with a half grin.
“Non, supposedly,” she said, smiling. “We’ll see.”
“Are you serious? About my going?”
“Sure, if you think it might help things with Luke.”
“It certainly couldn’t hurt.”
She glanced at her watch, ignoring the voice inside her that questioned what she’d just done. “I’d better be getting back. I have a full afternoon ahead.”
Ian reached for the ticket. “Yeah, I’ve got to go, too.” He looked up and caught her gaze. The increasingly familiar awareness resurfaced. She resisted its pull.
But sitting beside him, staring into those too blue, too appealing eyes, she won
dered if she was kidding herself. Friends? Friends.
Colby twisted her stool around and slid to the floor. “Thanks for the lunch. The meeting is at the Kramer building on Sycamore Street. Room 212. It starts at six.”
“I’ll be there,” he said, and her traitorous heart fluttered in gladness.
25
MAYBE HE WOULDN’T COME.
Colby arrived a few minutes early for the lecture, but at almost six o’clock, still no sign of Ian.
Maybe he’d changed his mind.
Maybe it would be for the best if he had.
A hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to find the source of her thoughts looking down at her with an apologetic smile on his face.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“They’re just getting ready to start.” She turned to the side so he could take the chair next to hers. Before they had time to say anything more, the lecturer stepped to the podium and tapped the microphone to get the room’s attention. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I’m Dr. Betsy Watson, and I hope to say a few things this evening that will convince you there is light at the end of the tunnel for you and your teenager.”
Laughter rippled across the room, indicating that everyone knew what she was talking about. For the next hour and a half, they listened while Dr. Watson discussed some of the ways in which they, as parents, might make the teenage years of their children’s lives more bearable for all concerned. The most important thing, she stressed at the beginning of the talk, would be keeping the lines of communication open. Easier said than done.
Colby made an attempt to listen intently. As things were with Lena, she needed every morsel of intelligence she could garner. But awareness of the man seated beside her eroded her concentration until she barely heard the speaker’s words, too disturbed by Ian and the knowledge that a fraction of an inch lay between them.
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