Shania leaned her head toward him as Daniel took his seat. “I think we were just threatened.”
“I don’t ‘think,’” he responded. “I know. That woman gets stranger every year.” He took a long sip of the coffee Miss Joan had ordered him to drink. “Lucky thing she makes good coffee.”
“Right, because that’s the only thing Miss Joan’s got going for her,” Shania replied, glancing around the diner with an amused smile.
Tempting aromas were wafting out from the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Daniel amended. “The woman’s got a good heart.” There were tons of examples to back that statement up. “But you can’t argue that she is rather unique in her approach to things.”
Shania laughed. “‘Unique’ is putting it rather mildly.” Following his example, she took a long sip from her coffee cup, then tentatively set it down. “Why do you think she summoned us?”
It was definitely not a coincidence that the woman had asked both of them here at what turned out to be the same time.
His shrug was noncommittal. “Beats me.” And he knew that trying to figure it out without the woman’s input was just a complete waste of time. “Nobody knows what’s on that woman’s mind. I’m just happy she’s on our side.”
“Our side?” Shania repeated, thinking that was rather an odd way for Daniel to phrase it.
Belatedly, Daniel realized his error. “The side of the good guys,” he told Shania. “I didn’t mean to make it sound as if you and I were on a side.”
Now he really had her wondering. Shania studied the man next to her. “We’re not on the side of the good guys?” she asked him.
“Yes, we are. We’re just not there in the full sense of the word.” Daniel sighed. His tongue was getting tangled up—just like his thoughts. “This isn’t coming out right, is it?”
“Not even close,” Shania told him. She made no effort to suppress her amusement. “Don’t worry about it,” she counseled. “Miss Joan does have that sort of effect on people. She can literally make you forget how to talk.”
“You, too?” Daniel asked, surprised.
Smiling, she inclined her head. “Definitely me, too. Not the best thing for a high school physics and math teacher to admit, but there you have it,” Shania told him with a self-depreciating shrug.
He supposed he might as well take advantage of this impromptu meeting. “Well, since we ran into one another—” Daniel began.
“Or so it looks,” she couldn’t help adding, glancing at the far end of the counter toward Miss Joan.
The woman looked as if she was busy slicing up a fresh apple pie, but Shania was convinced that Miss Joan was watching their every move—and reading lips since they were sitting too far away from her to allow the woman to hear them.
But Daniel wasn’t looking at Miss Joan, he was looking at Shania. Somehow, he’d allowed himself to be distracted and reined himself in.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
But Shania shook her head. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
“Never mind. Go ahead,” Shania urged. “You were saying?”
It took him a second to collect his thoughts and remember what he wanted to tell her. “I just wanted to thank you for what you’re doing with Elena.”
Shania shook her head. “As much as I love being on the receiving end of gratitude,” she told him, “I think you’re making a mistake. I haven’t done anything with Elena.”
Was she just being modest, or was there something he was missing? “I don’t understand.”
Shania smiled. While she liked the fact that he felt grateful to her, she wanted Daniel to give credit where it was due.
“All I did was point Elena toward the books she needed to be reading and the work she needed to do in order to pass my courses. Your sister did all the rest. She showed up and did the work,” Shania summarized. “And she’s the one who continues to do the work, walking that extra mile with those practice PSAT tests.
“I could talk until I was blue in the face,” Shania concluded. “If Elena didn’t want to do it, if she didn’t want to get those good grades and to get into college, then none of this would be happening. She’s the one who deserves all the credit.”
He hadn’t expected this degree of modesty. Beautiful, smart and modest. Shania Stewart was a hell of a package. If he were inclined to get involved, she would be the kind of woman he’d pick. But getting involved wasn’t on his agenda. He had made a vow to himself that that was never going to happen again. Besides, he had a job that took up all of his time and a sister to raise. Those two things filled a thirty-six-hour day and there was no time left over for anything else.
Still, he was not about to allow the teacher to shrug off the credit that he felt was so very obviously due to her.
“We’ve got a slight difference of opinion here,” he informed her. “You’re right in everything you just said—except for one thing.”
He saw her lips twitch just a little, trying not to smile. “And that is?”
“If you hadn’t been there to inspire Elena—and keep on inspiring her—none of this would be happening right now,” Daniel told her simply. “Elena can be an extremely headstrong person—”
“Wonder where she gets that from?” Shania speculated. She stopped trying to hold back her smile.
He was losing his battle to ignore the effects of that smile, he thought, no matter how hard he tried.
“And nothing I said to her was getting through to her even though, until about four months ago, we had a pretty decent relationship.” He shook his head as he thought back. “I still don’t know what happened to change that,” he admitted.
“She turned sixteen,” Shania told him simply. She couldn’t help being impressed by the fact that despite his busy life, Daniel really cared about his sister and the way she reacted to things. “Consider yourself lucky. Most girls rebel long before that. You were living on borrowed time.”
He opened his mouth to argue with her, but then he shut it again. He knew Shania was right. And that made him doubly glad that Shania had happened into his sister’s life.
“I guess maybe I was,” he admitted.
That was the moment that Miss Joan picked to sweep back to them.
“The booth over in the corner just opened up,” she announced.
When, instead of getting up, the two people sitting at the counter just looked at her, puzzled, Miss Joan sighed as she shook her head. “That means hustle your butts over there, you two.”
Daniel remained where he was. “Why would we want to do that?”
“Because booths are more private than just sitting out in the open—or at the counter,” Miss Joan informed them.
“All right,” Shania agreed. Her voice trailed off as she waited for the woman to explain why that should mean anything to either of them at this particular time. They weren’t talking about anything that was secretive.
Miss Joan fisted her hand at her waist, waiting for them to comply. When they didn’t, she gave them an order. “Now, get on over there. Debbie will be there in a minute to take your order.” And then, in case there was still any doubt about the matter, she looked pointedly into the deputy’s eyes and said, “You’re buying your sister’s teacher dinner for all the hard work she’s done with that girl.” She waited a beat for her words to sink in. “No further questions, right?”
“Miss Joan, Daniel’s on duty,” Shania protested.
“He’s on a dinner break,” Miss Joan corrected. “I already cleared it with the sheriff, so don’t argue with me. Either of you,” she added sharply.
Shania turned toward Daniel. The last thing she wanted was to have him feel as if he was being strong-armed into buying her dinner. While she wouldn’t mind having dinner with him, this wasn’t the way she wanted it to happen.
“Listen, you don’t have to—”
But Daniel cut her short. “No, Miss Joan’s right—”
“I’m always right,” the older woman agreed as she continued to observe the pair.
He could see that Shania was about to voice another protest. He tried to quiet her conscience. “You did put in a lot of work with Elena and the least I can do to show my gratitude is to buy you dinner—unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
Miss Joan sighed. “Do you two need a fire lit under you? You did the work, he’s grateful. He wants to show his gratitude by buying you dinner. Enough said,” she declared. “Now, go sit down in the booth.”
Shania exchanged glances with the deputy. “Yes, ma’am,” they both answered Miss Joan almost in unison.
Daniel allowed himself a smile as he walked behind Shania to the booth.
Chapter Twelve
“I know what you’re doing.”
Unfazed by the knowing tone, Miss Joan casually looked over to her left to see that her step-grandson had entered the diner. Apparently Cash Taylor, one of Forever’s two attorneys, had been quietly observing the interaction between her, the deputy and the high school teacher.
“Running the diner, the way I’ve always been, Cash,” Miss Joan answered, turning back to what she was doing. “No big mystery there.”
“That might be true,” Cash allowed, making himself comfortable on the stool that Shania had just vacated. “But you’re also playing cupid.”
Miss Joan continued to keep her eyes on the two people she’d just sent off to have lunch in the rear booth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” she informed him. Picking up a cloth, she began to clean a spot on the counter—and then continued rubbing it after the spot had disappeared.
Amused, Cash laughed at Miss Joan’s denial. “I just put the pieces together. Not that they were so difficult to figure out. You sent for Shania and Daniel to come here, knowing that no one would ever ignore a summons from Miss Joan.”
Miss Joan slanted a confident glance at her husband’s grandson, a man she had watched turn into a fine human being after some rocky false starts. “Not if they know what’s good for them.”
“Exactly.” Cash paused in case Miss Joan had anything to add. She didn’t, so he asked her, “Now tell me why you’re playing cupid with these two?” They seemed like an unlikely couple to him.
Miss Joan frowned impatiently. She didn’t like having to explain herself.
“Because, Counselor,” she informed him, “sometimes even smart people are too dumb to see what’s right there in front of their noses. Now, instead of butting into my business, why don’t you have some of Angel’s fine rib-eye steak before you go home to that pretty little wife of yours?” It was more of an order than a suggestion.
Cash inclined his head and said in a pseudo-docile voice, “Yes, Grandma.”
Miss Joan looked at him sharply. “You mind your mouth, boy. It might serve you well when you’re in court, but I require a more respectful tone from the people who walk through those doors. Even from you.”
Amused, Cash pressed his lips together, doing his best to suppress a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Miss Joan nodded her approval. “That’s better,” she told him, then stopped wiping the counter.
Any other questions he might have had, Cash kept to himself.
* * *
“I think that woman would have made one hell of a fine general,” Daniel told Shania once they had sat down at the booth.
“Because she’s so good at ordering people around?” Shania guessed.
“There’s that,” Daniel agreed. “But I was actually thinking of the way Miss Joan seems to enjoy mapping out and implementing strategies.”
Shania was about to ask him what he meant, but just then Debbie, their waitress, approached their booth. Debbie Wilcox had just recently graduated from high school and that was all due to Miss Joan. Hearing that the girl was about to take off, Miss Joan had kept after Debbie to stay in school.
When things disintegrated at home and her widowed stepfather had thrown her out, Miss Joan had taken her in. It was Miss Joan who had put a roof over the girl’s head as well as hired her to work at the diner in order to put money into her pocket.
The woman made sure that the hours she gave Debbie worked around her school schedule. Although she made no attempt to remedy Debbie’s home situation, there were rumors that Miss Joan had given Arthur Wilcox a severe tongue-lashing and the kind of dressing-down that left a permanent impression on a man for years to come.
Given all that, Shania was not about to discuss anything regarding Miss Joan in front of someone the woman had so obviously rescued. Instead of continuing her conversation with Daniel, she placed her order, asking for water and a salad.
“What?” she asked, catching the look on Daniel’s face.
“A salad?” he asked her. His tone sounded almost mocking.
Shania raised her chin slightly. “Yes. What’s wrong with a salad?”
He had a feeling Shania was ordering a salad because she didn’t want to have him pay too much for her meal. “Nothing’s wrong with it—if you happen to be a rabbit.” He gave her a look that told her he was on to her—and that Miss Joan wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to get out of here ordering anything less than that steak that’s on the menu.”
Shania didn’t need to look toward the counter to know that Miss Joan was keeping an eye on them. She could feel it.
“Fine,” she relented. “I’ll have the steak and mashed potatoes.”
“How would you like your steak?” Debbie asked, making notations on her pad.
“Small,” Shania answered. When Debbie looked at her in confusion, she amended, “Medium.”
Smiling, Debbie nodded, then looked toward the deputy. “And you, sir?”
Daniel frowned. Being called “sir” by someone so young made him feel old before his time.
“Same thing,” he told Debbie. “Except make mine rare—just barely dead.”
“Got it,” Debbie said, happily making the notation. Then, putting the pad back into her apron pocket, she collected the two menus and withdrew.
“It’s healthier for you to eat a medium steak than a rare one,” Shania told him.
“Not looking to be healthy,” Daniel responded. “Just looking to enjoy what I’m eating.”
Shania realized that Daniel probably thought she was lecturing him. Occupational habit. She was spending too much of her time with students, not enough with people her own age.
Taking a breath, Shania changed the subject—or actually brought the conversation back to what they were talking about before the waitress had appeared.
“What did you mean about Miss Joan mapping out a strategy?” Shania asked. “What strategy?”
Daniel looked at her. He’d thought it was obvious, but the woman wasn’t playing dumb, Daniel realized. She really didn’t see it. She didn’t see what Miss Joan was doing.
It had to be wonderful to be that innocent, that unassuming, he couldn’t help thinking. Heaven knew he was tired of being so suspicious of everything, and at times so paranoid, always looking for the hidden reasons behind people’s actions.
This time, though, there was nothing to be suspicious about in the true sense of the word. He had a feeling that this was just a case of Miss Joan being Miss Joan, overseeing everyone’s life in general.
Since Shania was looking at him, apparently still waiting for an answer, he said, “Did Miss Joan ask you to come to see her or did you just drop by?”
“As a matter of fact, she sent Violet as a messenger to ask me to come in. I’d been meaning to come see her,” Shania confessed, readily shouldering the blame, “but, well, you know how it is.” She shrugged. “Life kept getting in the wa
y.”
Daniel merely nodded. “Did she tell you why she asked you to come in?”
“Yes,” she answered. “She wanted to know how I was doing on my own, now that Wynona wasn’t at the house anymore.”
He supposed he might as well follow the groundwork that Miss Joan had set up. It occurred to him that he didn’t know all that much about this woman who had become so important in his sister’s life.
“And that’s it?”
Shania nodded. “That’s it.”
“Nothing more? She didn’t ask anything else?” he prodded.
“If there was more, she didn’t get a chance to ask because that was when she spotted you coming into the diner,” Shania told him. “Once she saw you, her whole countenance changed.”
That just confirmed what he thought. “I don’t doubt it,” he murmured.
Shania looked at him more closely. There was something in his voice that aroused her interest. “Would you like to let me in on it?”
“Well, Miss Joan called the sheriff and told him that she wanted to see me—same as you,” Daniel pointed out. “Then, when I came in, all she said was that whatever reason she’d wanted to see me had taken care of itself. You heard her.”
She also heard what the deputy wasn’t saying. “You don’t believe her.”
His eyes met hers and she felt that same warm ripple traveling through her again. “Do you?”
She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this, but she discounted it because it seemed almost silly to think this way.
“It’s Miss Joan,” she reminded him. “Eccentricity is her middle name.”
He laughed then. There was no point in pushing this—and he didn’t want to embarrass Shania. If nothing else, the woman was a godsend for his sister.
“I always wondered what it was.” Before he could say anything further about Miss Joan’s possible middle name, Debbie returned with their dinners.
The Lawman's Romance Lesson Page 11
