The secret was a big problem. She did know that. It was an enormous weight on her mind and heart. It wore her down. She had to get rid of it, for good and all.
And she would.
Right after the wedding.
She gave her dad a careful smile. He reached over and patted her hand. “Now, how ’bout you go ahead and pass those green beans this way, honey?” She lifted the bowl and handed it to him. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Daddy.”
The next day, Lori saw Tucker at church again. And at the diner afterward. He kept catching her eye. Her pulse would race and her palms would sweat—and she would smile and nod and look away.
Later in the afternoon, Lori and her mom and sister were sitting at the kitchen table poring over fabric sample books, discussing window treatments for the new house Lena and Dirk would move into as soon as they returned from their honeymoon. The phone rang and Lori jumped. She knew it would be him.
Her mother turned in her chair and snared the receiver off the wall behind her as Lori actively resisted the compulsion to shriek, Don’t answer that!
“Why, hello Tucker.” Enid actually wiggled her eyebrows at Lori—as Lena jabbed an elbow in Lori’s ribs.
“Hey!” Lori grumbled. Her sister only giggled—and wiggled her own eyebrows. Lori wanted to grab one of the fabric sample books and bop her twin on the head with it.
“Well, as it so happens,” Lori’s mother cooed into the phone. “She’s sitting right here. Hold on.” Enid covered the mouthpiece and shoved it at Lori. “Tucker,” she whispered dramatically, as if Lori didn’t already know.
Lori took the phone. “Hello, Tucker.”
“Hey.” His voice, so warm and deep, made her want to burst into tears. What was that old saying about liars weaving a tangled web? Oh, they did. They truly did. Lori felt the thick, many-layered web of her own dishonesty pulling tight around her, cutting off her air. He added, “I had a great time the other night…”
“Me, too,” she heard herself saying. It was the truth—just not all the truth. “Thanks again.”
“Any time—like, say, tonight? I’ll pick you up at six. We can drive into Abilene. I know a great little Mexican place there.”
“Tonight?” Dread coiled through her like a snake gathering to strike. She imagined the two of them—alone, with no interruptions.
And plenty of time to talk.
No. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be alone with him again and not tell him—or maybe, on second thought, she could be alone with him and not tell him. And that scared her most of all.
The other night had been bad enough, but at least then, she’d had the excuse that he and Brody were getting to know each other a little, that if even she wanted to tell him, it simply was not the time.
But if Brody weren’t there, if it were just the two of them…
No. Bad, bad idea.
Her sister and her mother were both nodding frantically. She turned and faced the wall so she wouldn’t have to look at them. “Oh, really. I’d better not.” Behind her, Lena and Enid let out sharp groans of disapproval.
Tucker allowed a long beat of silence echo down the line before he repeated flatly, “Better not?”
She rushed into a totally fake reason why she couldn’t go. “We have the big family Sunday dinner tonight and…” She let the excuse finish itself. It sounded so lame.
He thought so, too. She could hear it in his voice when he tried again. “How about later in the week, then? We could—”
“Tucker, I really can’t.”
He was silent. Way too silent. Behind her, she heard her mother and sister fluttering and fuming. She stared bleakly at the wall.
Finally, Tucker said, “I don’t get it. I thought—”
She couldn’t bear to hear him say it. “Listen. I wonder…”
“What?” The word was wariness personified.
It was a moment of total desperation. Oh, God. What to say next?
And right then, the idea came to her…
She knew what to do. She saw the way to lock herself in to the moment of truth. She’d set aside the time for it now. Right now.
An appointment. Yes. She’d make an appointment to tell him and she’d make it today.
“Hold on,” she said to him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” he replied, as if he wasn’t sure in the least.
She punched the mute button and whirled on her hovering mother and sister. “I’m taking this in the other room,” she told them in her most threatening tone.
They both put up their hands and fluttered their eyelashes to let her know they would neither of them ever presume to butt in on her life or her private conversations. She turned and left them, headed for the half-bath off the kitchen, where she shut and locked the door before punching the mute button again.
“Tucker?”
“I’m still here.” He sounded like he kind of wished he wasn’t. She didn’t blame him in the least.
Get on with it, she thought. “I need an appointment. At your office. I need it for a week from Monday. Do you think you could fit me in then?”
A gaping moment of silence ensued. Then, at last, “Is this about a legal matter?”
“Uh. Yeah. That’s right.” Well, it was. Kind of. “Could you see me then? A week from Monday?”
“Lori, I have to tell you, this is pretty damn strange.”
She couldn’t have agreed with him more. “Will you see me? At your office?”
Another silence and then, finally, “Sure. Call my secretary and make an appointment.”
“Thank you, I…Tucker?” He didn’t answer. “Tucker?” About then, she realized she was talking to air.
Tucker had hung up.
“But you like him,” argued Lena, when Lori returned to the kitchen and told them she wouldn’t be going out with Tucker.
“And, honey,” said her mother. “He’s really settled down. Why, half the single women in town would be thrilled to go out with him.”
“Then he should ask one of them—now, could we just not talk about this anymore? Please?”
“I don’t understand you,” said Lena. “I just never have…”
Tucker didn’t understand it.
He’d thought, judging by Thursday night, that he and Lori were on the same page. That at least she was attracted to him, that she’d be willing to see where things might go between them.
Guess not.
She wouldn’t go out with him—but she wanted to discuss some damn legal issue with him. It made zero sense.
He ought to forget her.
But he didn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t. As Sunday faded into Monday and Monday into Tuesday, he thought about her constantly. More than once he found himself with the phone in his hand, about to dial her parents’ number.
But he never did it.
What was the point? She’d made it painfully clear she didn’t want to see him.
Until next Monday. In his office.
His assistant, Anna, had told him she’d called to set up the appointment, as per his instructions. He had her on his calendar in the 10:00 a.m. slot: Lori Taylor, consultation.
Consultation about what?
He didn’t know. And that was damned unprofessional. He never scheduled appointments unless he had at least a general grasp of the potential client’s problem and thought the case was one he might want to take on.
He ought to call her and tell her he needed to know what the meeting was about or he would have to cancel. But he didn’t call her. He had the sinking feeling that if he called her, she would cancel. He’d never see her again.
Which shouldn’t be such a big damn deal. It wasn’t as if he’d be seeing much of her anyway. Right?
Thursday, he spotted her in the hardware store. She gave him a quick wave and turned away. Brody wasn’t with her, so he didn’t even get a chance to say hi to the kid.
It shouldn’t mean this much, he kept thinking. He shouldn�
��t care this much. Yeah, he’d had a powerful feeling that she was the woman for him. But clearly, she had no such feeling and it took two to get something going. Even Tucker, with his limited experience in long-term relationships, could figure that much out.
He considered talking to Tate about it. Or even Molly.
But what was there to talk about? Except for throwing him a pity party, what could Tate or Molly do for him now?
The answer was zip.
As Friday came around, he tried to tell himself he was being a complete sucker, an idiot, a hopeless yearning fool—which he was.
But even knowing that he was dragging around like a motherless calf didn’t make him stop. He still wanted Lori, whether she wanted him or not, and that was a plain fact. He wanted Lori and the life he had dared to imagine he might have with her.
And if she wouldn’t go out with him, well, he’d better get to work on finding a way to change her mind.
So she wouldn’t date him. Yet.
Did that mean he had to give up and go away mad?
Hell, no.
He had to be more…understanding. He had to keep in mind that she was a widow, that she’d lost a husband.
And not only that. He had to consider how tough it must have been on her, to have had Brody all on her own at barely eighteen.
He had to accept that her trust must be gained. She’d had a rough time and she’d been hurt—by some rotten fly-by-night bastard who’d left her pregnant to fend for herself, and by the recent death of her husband.
The man who would win her would have to be patient with her.
Yeah. He had to take it slow and easy. Because he was ready. He, Tucker Bravo, was willing at last to put in the time and effort and tender care to get close to the right woman.
So she wouldn’t date him. Well, then, he’d just have to find other ways to get close to her.
For instance, Lena’s wedding.
He had an invitation. Lena, in her ongoing effort to show him she’d let bygones be bygones, had made sure he received one. Since half the town would be there, it was one of those events that an up-and-coming local attorney shouldn’t miss.
And Tucker didn’t plan to miss it.
Uh-uh. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Chapter Five
Lena’s wedding day dawned bright and sunny. The weather report called for thunderstorms later in the day. But Lena, blue eyes shining, declared that no icky bad weather would dare come and ruin the most beautiful, important day of her life.
The ceremony took place at the Billingsworth family church—the Church of the Way of Our Lord, to be specific—with Pastor Partridge presiding. The guests oohed and ahhed at the sight of the sanctuary, where lilies and roses, festooned with ivy and white satin ribbon, dripped from every available surface. More flowers stood in tall vases along the aisles and at the altar.
The place was packed. By the time the first familiar chords of the wedding march filled the air, it was standing room only.
Lena’s three flower girls, in green satin dresses, hair braided with ribbons and rosebuds, strolled down the white satin carpet that had been rolled out by two of the groomsmen before the wedding march began. All three little girls wore adorable shy smiles and carried ribbon-bedecked baskets full of pink and green silk petals. They cast the petals out along the satin aisle as they went.
Next were Lena’s lifelong girlfriends, her bridesmaids and matrons, all eight of them in shimmering celery-green silk, each with a bouquet of pale pink roses and Peruvian lilies.
Lori, as matron of honor, followed the bridesmaids. Her gown was blush-pink, her flowers white roses tipped with green, threaded with green ribbon and ivy, rimmed in green lace. About five slow steps toward the groomsmen waiting at the altar, she made the mistake of glancing slightly to the right.
And there he was. Tucker. In the sixth row, with Tate and Molly.
Tucker caught Lori’s eye and held it. She almost stumbled.
But she recovered just in time. She pulled her shoulders back, set her gaze firmly front where it belonged and continued her slow, stately progress toward the altar.
The best man took her hand and guided her to her spot at his side and then, with all the bridal attendants in place, the music swelled louder and Lena appeared in a long-waisted snow-white gown sewn all over with seed pearls. She carried a cascade of white Casablanca lilies, gardenias, freesias and roses twined with faux pearls and heart-shaped ivy. At the sight of her, a long, admiring sigh seemed to rise from every throat.
It was Lena’s shining moment and she knew what to do with it. Through the white froth of her veil, she had eyes only for Dirk as she proceeded along the satin-carpeted, petal-strewn aisle. When she reached her groom at last, she handed her huge, trailing bouquet to Lori and she and Dirk turned to face Pastor Partridge.
The sacred exchange of vows began. Dirk faltered once or twice. A fast talker as a rule, he seemed struck speechless by the moment. Lena’s voice was strong and clear and never wavered.
Lori’s thoughts, there at the altar with her sister’s wedding flowers in her hands, were not easy ones.
All her life, Lori had judged her twin and found Lena lacking. Deep down, Lori had considered herself superior to Lena in the ways that really mattered. To Lori’s eyes, Lena, with her bright smiles and charming ways, only skimmed the surface of life. Lori, the quiet one, the straight-A student, had seen herself as thoughtful, as the one with real depth.
Now, today, standing there at the altar, Lori faced a hard truth: Lena was the better woman. Lena had waited for just the right guy. And when she found him, she never hesitated. She set about proudly and joyfully binding her life with his. Lena might have a selfish side, but she was also open and aboveboard about what she wanted and where she was headed.
Lori, on the other hand, had yet to even manage to tell her child’s father that he was a dad.
In spite of her determination not to look in his direction, her gaze shifted again to Tucker in the sixth row. His eyes were waiting. Full of heat and hope.
And promises, too.
Dear God. The way he looked at her…
Like Dirk looked at Lena. Like Tate looked at Molly. As if she, Lori, was the only woman in the world.
Incredible. Her dream of all those years ago had somehow become reality: Tucker Bravo was looking only at her.
He saw her now. He’d told her so, that night out by the pool. He saw her now and he was interested.
More than interested.
And, Lori admitted to herself as her sister said, “I do,” she was more than interested, too.
It was like some fairy tale come true.
Or it might have been, if not for the secret and the tangled, suffocating web of her lies.
Black clouds boiled up to the southwest as the bride and groom ducked into the long, white limo for the ride to the Throckleford County Country Club. The promised rain was on the way.
But folks weren’t all that worried about the weather. The gala reception would be held at the club, a big sit-down dinner in the main dining room and then dancing in the adjacent ballroom late into the night. A little thunderstorm or two wouldn’t matter, with the festivities being held indoors.
Tucker, who had slipped out of the church ahead of everyone else, reached the clubhouse well before the other guests. He tossed his keys to the parking attendant and went straight up the wide front staircase, through the main foyer to the dining room, with its eggplant-purple walls, white woodwork and ornately framed paintings of misty country scenes.
Sometimes, looking back, Tucker felt as if he’d grown up at the club. Ol’ Tuck was always dragging them out there for family dinners—dinners they shared in that very dining room—or for any number of gala events put together by his grandmother and her women friends. Tucker knew every nook and cranny of the clubhouse. He and Tate and their friends used to sneak away from the adult festivities to hide in the housekeeping closets and run up and down the main staircase
in the foyer.
Lena’s wedding dinner was going to be one hell of a sit-down. There were at least forty round tables set with blinding-white linen and gold-rimmed crystal and china. Down at the far end, on a raised platform, stood a lone rectangular table set for six. That one had to be for the bride and groom and their two sets of parents. Tucker took a wild guess that, as the matron of honor, Lori would be seated somewhere near that main table.
He was right. He found her place card—and Brody’s to the right of it—directly in front of the dais. Then he went looking for his own place.
Ten minutes later he hit pay dirt. His seat was just about dead center among the sea of tables, with Molly and Tate to his right.
Feeling no shame at all, he snatched up his place card, carried it up front and switched it with the one on Lori’s left.
If any of the scurrying serving staff noticed he was messing with the seating, they didn’t call him on it. They were too busy straightening silverware and making certain the impressive floral centerpieces wouldn’t block the guests’ views of their dinner companions.
The switch accomplished, Tucker headed for the Cottonwood Room—the club’s dim, wood-paneled lounge. He took a seat at the bar and enjoyed a Scotch and water while he waited for the arrival of the rest of the wedding party.
Tucker returned to the dining room twenty minutes later. By then, the tables were filling up fast. The big room hummed with a hundred conversations. The serving staff moved in and out between the tables, setting out bread and butter, serving champagne, Cokes and cold tea on request. From a corner of the room, a six-piece band played “It Had to Be You,” keeping it low, so folks could chat.
Lori and Brody were already seated. Tucker stopped near the door from the foyer and drank in the sight of them. As he watched, Lori leaned her bright head toward Brody. Her lips moved. Brody nodded and picked up his napkin, which sat on his plate folded into the shape of a swan. He shook it out and spread it in his lap.
Lori’s Little Secret Page 6
