He laughed. “Never could put one over on you, but no, I’m not trying to distract you, just keep you healthy. I answered your question about why we got into the coin toss. Now I’ll tell you another truth that’ll help you sleep well. I’m grateful for it. I no longer look at marriage as punishment. Not to the right woman, anyway.” A woman who wanted nothing to do with him, but, Roman decided, it was time he forced the issue.
His mother’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling and green. “I knew something had changed since you got home. But what about your recent … how do I say this delicately? Your bad mood?”
“I’ll solve my problems, you take a nap.”
She scowled at him. “Just make sure you fix things with Charlotte.”
“I never said—”
She patted his cheek as she so often did when he was a child. “You didn’t have to say. Mothers know these things.”
He rolled his eyes and pointed toward the house. “Into bed.”
She saluted and walked inside. He stared after her, thinking of all the advice she’d given him through the years and of the happy marriage she’d shared with his father. He didn’t blame her for wanting the same for her sons. With hindsight, like his mother, he couldn’t believe he, Rick, and Chase had stooped to tossing a coin to decide their fate.
Roman debated, wondering if he should try to explain to Charlotte one more time, but decided against it. She wasn’t willing to discuss things again and she had good reason. All he could do in conversation was reiterate the past. And the fact that he had no plan in mind for the future.
The next time he faced Charlotte, he had to possess proof of his feelings and intentions. Only then could he lay his heart in her hands and dare her to walk away.
He grabbed the portable phone he’d left in the garage and dialed his brothers. Ten minutes later, they gathered back in the garage where this whole nightmare had begun. Roman started by explaining the situation up to and including the extent of their mother’s knowledge about their agreement.
“Now that you’re up to speed, you two need to look out for Mom. Make sure she gets rest and doesn’t stay up trying to figure out ways to fix my life. I can do that myself.”
“How?” Chase folded his arms across his chest.
“By going to D.C.” He needed to prove to Charlotte he could handle settling down. He’d come back with a steady job and a plan of action. One that would make them both happy.
He wouldn’t be giving up the news or his passion for imparting the truth to the unsuspecting world. He’d just be changing which news he covered and the place from which he covered it. After the time he’d just spent in Yorkshire Falls with his family, including the people of his home-town, Roman realized not only could he handle settling down, he wanted to.
“Well?” he asked in the face of stunned silence. “No wisecracks?”
Rick shrugged. “We wish you well.”
“You can do better than that.”
“I joke about a lot of things, but not when so much is at stake. This is huge for you, Roman. I wish you the best.”
Rick held out his hand and Roman took it, pulling him into a brotherly hug. “You can do me one favor. Keep an eye on Charlotte while I’m gone.”
“Now, that’s no hardship.” Rick smacked him on the back. He grinned, reverting to his old teasing self.
Roman narrowed his gaze. “Just keep your goddamn hands to yourself,” he said for the sake of brotherly argument. Not because he worried about Rick making a move on his woman. Having calmed down a bit, he knew he trusted his brothers with his life—and that included Charlotte.
“He’s possessive,” Rick said, hands folded across his chest.
Chase snickered.
Roman groaned. “Just don’t screw this up. Watch out for her until I get back. I have to go do laundry and then pack.” Roman started for the short flight of wooden stairs that led to the house.
“What makes this one so special?” Rick called out.
“Other than the fact that she’s his alibi?” Chase’s laugh followed him to the door.
Roman shook his head. He grabbed for the doorknob, then turned back, “I can’t wait for the day when the joke’s on the two of you.”
Charlotte ran into her apartment and dashed for the phone. She’d heard it ring from the hallway, her arms filled with dry cleaning, and by the time she’d found her keys and made it inside, whoever was there had hung up without leaving a message.
She dropped her cleaning onto the couch. “Let’s see if anyone called before that.” Her stomach clenched in tight knots as she prayed neither her father nor Roman had chosen to call. She couldn’t avoid both men forever, but until she understood what she needed out of life, she was giving avoidance her best shot.
She hit the play button and listened to the first and only message. “Hi, Charlotte. It’s me.” Roman’s voice hit her like a punch in the stomach, sucking all the air out of her lungs. She lowered herself into the nearest chair.
“I just called to say …”
Silence followed, and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Wanting to hear she didn’t know what.
“I called to say good-bye.”
The hurt overflowed in her veins, seeping into every part of her being. She waited for him to say more, but all that followed was the click of being disconnected. She sat in mute silence, the lump in her throat huge, the squeezing sensation that brought a pain to her chest intense.
So that was it. He’d taken off again for parts unknown, just as she’d always known he would.
Her insides churned and she thought she might be sick. But why? Why should she be upset Roman had followed the pattern he’d set? The one she’d expected? Unable to stand the stifling apartment and questions that dogged her, she grabbed her keys and ran out the door without looking back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Charlotte walked into the general store at seven A.M, the same time Herb Cooper opened the doors.
“Third time this week you’re here this early. New schedule?” he asked.
She smiled. “You could say that.” A week after Roman’s departure, she was amazed at the amount of avoidance a creative person could manage. No one else shopped this early and she found she could get in and out without having to make small talk with anyone other than Herb or Rox-anne, his wife.
“Well, the fresh bread’s not even unpacked yet, but I’ll grab you a loaf and have it waiting at the register for when you’re ready to check out.”
“Thanks, Herb.”
“Just doing my job. You keep the womenfolk happy and us men in town decided we’d best keep you happy too.”
Charlotte laughed. “I wouldn’t turn down fresh bread, but I think you’re overestimating my importance around here.”
The older man turned the color of his tomatoes in the corner. “No, ma’am. You are definitely keeping the women happy. It’s that panty thief that’s driving ’em insane. The women who had theirs pilfered can’t replace them fast enough and the younger ones hope that Chandler boy will wake them out of their sleep.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze skyward. So much for avoidance.
“Living fairy tales, I tell you. A man like Roman Chandler has more important things to do than steal panties. But try telling that to the women.” He shook his head, just as the telephone rang, interrupting him. “Well, least with him gone, we’ve had some quiet. Whoever is stealing those panties knows he’s got no alibi now, so it’s been quiet.” He reached for the phone. “General store. What can I do for you?”
Charlotte escaped into the aisles while she had the chance and breathed a sigh of relief. In the seven days Roman had been gone, she had developed an odd sort of respect for her mother’s ability to stay disconnected from life in a small town. It wasn’t easy.
Aside from the general chit-chat with neighbors, everyone in Charlotte’s life wanted something from her. Beth wanted to know what was wrong, why Roman had left so suddenly. Her mother wanted to know
when she’d come for dinner with her family. Rick wanted an updated list of customers and any hunches she had, and those customers wanted the panties they’d ordered.
Since Beth was running the shop, Charlotte was able to spend her days crocheting. Another word for avoiding, she admitted, but at least her customers would be satisfied, even if the rest of the people pulling pieces from her were not.
The only person not asking a damn thing from her was the one she’d turned away. Her throat constricted and hurt from the ever-present lump that had settled there. She blamed herself for falling into Roman’s trap as much as she blamed him for unintentionally drawing her in. Though she knew he’d never meant to hurt her, the fact remained, he had.
She still had the taped message he’d left on her answering machine. Not that she intended to torture herself by replaying it, and she refused to analyze why she hadn’t just let the next call tape over his seductive voice.
Half an hour later, she’d returned to her apartment to unpack the groceries and straighten up before going to work. She’d spent the last week hiding from the world. Charlotte figured everyone with a broken heart was entitled to healing time. Unlike her mother, she didn’t plan to make it a lifetime.
She looked out the window into the bright sunshine. It was time to get back into her routine, starting with tonight’s baseball game.
When the game ended, the Rockets had continued their winning streak, and though she’d shown her face, Charlotte had continued parental avoidance. She was ready for many things. Dealing with her father wasn’t one of them. He was too much a reminder of all that hurt, past and present. She had no doubt if she stalled long enough, he’d leave too. And leave was something she had to do, before Russell could attempt to corner her again. As he’d done in the general store and outside her apartment. She’d ducked out on him those times as well.
“Here. Toss this for me, will you?” Charlotte handed Beth her soda can. “And don’t forget to recycle.” She hopped down off the bottom bleacher. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Coward,” Beth called after her.
Charlotte kept walking, though she couldn’t deny her friend’s words cut deep, partly because Roman had called her the same thing, and mostly because Charlotte knew Beth was right. Eventually she would have to face everything she was avoiding, including her parents. She just wasn’t ready.
Halfway back to town, she decided to cut across the Sullivan Subdivision, through George and Rose Carlton’s yard. The Carltons were still at the baseball game, as were most of the other townspeople, so when Charlotte heard a rustle near the front hedges, she turned around, surprised.
“Hello?” she called out.
A lanky man in forest-green pants, button-down top, and a baseball cap was skulking around the bushes. When he heard her voice, he ducked down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his face.
“Samson?” Her surprise turned to complete shock. She ran up the bluestone walk. “Get out of the bushes now.” She pulled on the green shirt that blended with the foliage. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
He rose to his full height. “You don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you. What’s going on?” Her gaze dropped to his gloved right hand, full with what looked like her panties in his fist. The crocheted panties she sold, Charlotte mentally amended. Of all the bizarre things … “Hand them over.” She extended her hand.
He muttered a growl. “None of your concern.”
“If you were just cross-dressing and not theft, it wouldn’t be my concern. But since you’re stealing, I’m making it my business. And I intend to find out why. But first, you get inside and put those panties back.”
“No.” He folded his arms like a sulking child.
“The Carltons will be back from the game any minute, so you’re going to return those and then we’re going to talk.” She glanced toward the front door, which she assumed had been left unlocked.
This darn town was still living in an age when everyone trusted everyone else. Even with this panty thief business, no one took the threat seriously enough to lock their doors. In George and Rose’s case, they probably figured they had Mick as lookout, though what the aging, slightly arthritic beagle could do to an intruder was beyond her.
Speaking of the dog … “Where’s Mick?” she asked warily.
“Eatin’ steak.”
She let out a sharp exhale.
Samson’s dark eyes clouded. “What was that for? You don’t think I’d hurt him, do you?”
Charlotte shook her head. No, she didn’t, and not just because no one had been harmed during the course of the other robberies. In her heart, she trusted the gruff older man and thought even this strange turn of events would have some kind of explanation she could understand. She hoped.
Before she could ponder what his motives were, the beagle in question came barging out of his new doggie door, baying and circling around Sam. Charlotte sighed. “You don’t have any more steak in your pockets, do you?”
He shook his head, “Wasn’t supposed to need any. If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d be long gone by now.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned down, hefting the heavy dog into her arms. She didn’t want him to decide to attack if he caught Samson inside, not that Mick had a surly reputation. That distinction belonged to Samson.
Mick wasn’t only heavy, he was wet as he slobbered and drooled on her arm. “I’ve got him, now get inside and put those panties back before I get a hernia,” she hissed. “I’ll stand guard.”
Samson glared at her, but thankfully he turned, stomped up the steps, and let himself back into the house. Gloved hands, no fingerprints, she realized now, and shook her head. She grunted and shifted position. Mick’s front paws touched her shoulder, his warm, chubby body aligned against her. “Care to dance?” she asked him.
He licked her cheek in response.
“Oh, brother. Well, at least you know how to kiss up to a lady.” She twirled around the front hedges until she realized exactly how mentally disturbed she looked, then ducked behind a tree. If she was ever asked about this, she’d have to cop to a sudden love for dogs and buy herself a pet. All in the name of cover-up.
Thankfully Samson returned before the Carltons got home and she had to explain why she was holding their two-ton dog in her arms. She let Mick down and he bounded back inside. She was quickly forgotten. “Typical male,” she muttered.
Without another word, she grabbed Samson’s arm and dragged him with her across the rest of the yard and down the street, waiting until they were out of the subdivision before starting in on him. “Talk to me, and don’t give me any of that it’s none of your business crap. Why are you stealing women’s panties? Panties I made?” she asked him.
“Can’t a man have privacy?”
“Unless you want me to head straight on over to Rick Chandler, you’d better start explaining.” They continued their walk to town, but he remained stubbornly silent. Frustrated, Charlotte stopped in her tracks and yanked on his sleeve. “Samson, there’s nothing good that’s going to come of this if you force my hand. Rick will have to prosecute and they’ll probably throw you in jail for a little while, or have you tested by a psychiatrist, and then—”
“I did it for you.”
That was the last answer she’d been expecting. “I don’t understand.”
“I always liked you.” He looked down and kicked at the ground with his worn sneaker. “You were such a friendly kid. All the others ran from me, but you always waved hello. Just like your mother. Then when you moved back after your time away, you didn’t change none. You still made time for a strange man.”
“So you stole the panties because … ?”
“I wanted your business to work so’s you’d stay in town.”
Charlotte was oddly touched by his words. He cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it. “What made you think panty raids would help my business?”
“At first I thought it�
�d just give you some attention.”
“I think my advertising has done the same thing.”
“Not on as grand a scale. And I only planned one theft. The next morning I found out that the youngest Chandler boy came home the same night. I remembered his panty raid.” Samson tapped his head. “Picture-perfect memory.”
“You mean photographic memory?” Charlotte asked.
“I mean I don’t forget a thing. And when I realized everyone else remembered it too and I saw the lines outside your shop, I knew I’d done good. Plus, with the Chandler boy in town, I knew I had a good cover going.”
Her mind boggled at the way the older man’s brain worked. “Weren’t you worried about Roman getting blamed for your … uh, crime?”
He waved away her concerns. “Couldn’t see Officer Rick arresting his own brother without evidence, and since Roman wasn’t guilty, there weren’t evidence to find.” He waved his gloved hands in the air and grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
She wasn’t. “Shame on you for setting yourself up like that! I don’t care how harmless the theft or how good your motives, you shouldn’t have done something illegal at all. Especially not for me.”
“That’s gratitude for you,” he muttered, back to his moody self.
She eyed him carefully. “Roman’s been gone a week. Care to tell me what tonight’s theft was about?”
He shook his head from side to side and exhaled an exaggerated sigh, as if to say she was dense and he knew it. “I got the boy into trouble. Had to get him out, didn’t I?”
“You took this last risk for Roman?” Was there no end to the surprises Samson had inside him?
“Haven’t you been listening?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “I did this for you. Because you smile at me when no one else does, except your mother the few times she comes to town. And because you give me errands for money, instead of charity. How else do you think I knew who bought the darn panties? I mailed ’em for you, didn’t I? Besides, Ms. Chandler’s good to me, too.”
The Bachelor Page 23
