She watched him closely, but he was pretty good at the inscrutable thing.
“Might want to post something on the board here. See what you get.”
Not a rousing endorsement, nor did he look particularly excited about the opportunity she was proposing. Could mean nothing, he could just be the town grouch, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She gave him her friendliest smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Bob. I’d appreciate you passing the word, if you wouldn’t mind.”
He didn’t say anything, but touched the bill of his hat, more out of habit, it seemed, than anything. His expression hadn’t so much as flickered since he walked in.
“Thanks,” she said, trying hard not to let the dry sarcasm she was feeling color her tone. She let herself out of the office, more bemused than anything. Some small towns had strange personalities. Maybe Ralston just wasn’t all that friendly to strangers. She’d never felt that way when she’d been younger, but she hadn’t really paid all that much attention back then. Nor had she spent much time in town.
There were a few people on the street now, and the sun was making a more concerted effort to poke out from behind the morning clouds. The town didn’t look much cheerier, even in the sunlight, and she caught herself wondering how she was going to handle living here full-time. Other than driving a few hours south to New York City, Ralston or a few others just like it would be it in terms of meeting all of her needs. Material and social.
Thank God, then, she’d learned some time ago to live without many of them. Her thoughts immediately went right back to the kiss with Donovan. Just the memory made her body come alive, and she privately cursed him for reminding her that some things were easier to live without than others.
She pushed the door open to Deenie’s and was surprised to find it pretty busy, almost half of the two dozen or so assorted tables and booths were occupied by at least one person. Many sipping coffee and reading the morning paper, some in private discussions of various volumes. One thing she didn’t see was cell phones and PDAs. Ralston wasn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology, and neither were most of its residents. Simple people, for the most part, leading relatively uncomplicated lives. Maybe that was why they were so resistant to her. Maybe they were just resistant to change.
People glanced up when the bell jingled, but no one seemed to pay her any specific kind of attention before returning to what they were doing. Maybe she was reading more into things than really existed. It could be just as elemental as she’d thought, that she was an outsider whom the locals hadn’t come to trust yet. Looking around Deenie’s, it was almost impossible to believe in secret developer plans and private conspiracies to keep her camp from becoming a reality. Which didn’t explain the vandalism. Or where Shelby had gone off to yesterday. But maybe they were just as easily explained. Maybe Donovan was just jaded and cynical from spending too many years on the streets of New York dealing with real criminals.
She ran a quick scan and tried to guess which customer was Stan. Then she heard a throaty laugh that drew her attention to a booth in the far corner. There sat a man in slacks and tie, no jacket, sleeves rolled up, silvering hair neatly combed to one side. He was cradling a mug of coffee in two hands and paying rapt attention to the short, amazingly buxom brunette seated across from him as she told an animated story punctuated by that laugh. Well, Kate thought, trying not to smirk, that explains where the receptionist was.
Kate waved the approaching waitress off and wove her way through the tables, back to their corner booth. As she drew closer, she noted that given the direction of Stan’s gaze, his attention was more closely fixed on how the woman’s animated hand motions made her wonder boobs bounce around than whatever it was she was saying. The woman seemed oblivious, her own coffee untouched as she continued on, clearly enjoying being the center of his attention.
A quick glance at Stan’s left hand showed a solid gold band. Hmm, no matching sparkler flashing about on the waving hand of the secretary. Imagine that. Stan looked up first when she closed in on their booth. It took the secretary a moment or two longer.
“And so I was saying to Hank, ‘Hank, you just can’t up and leave Lorinda like that. What will her family say?’” She defied gravity and leaned farther across the table. “And you know her family holds their purse strings tighter than—what?” She glanced up then when she realized she no longer had Stan’s exclusive attention. “Oh. Hello. Who are you?”
“Hello,” Kate replied, taking the woman’s open and not particularly friendly once-over in stride, along with the easy dismissal once she determined Kate was no competition in the bounce department. Maybe she was more aware of what her draw was where Stan was concerned than Kate had given her credit for.
She turned her attention to Stan and stuck out her hand. “Stan Harris? I’m Kate Sutherland. I believe we have an appointment this morning?”
Stan could have been a great used car salesman from the way his guarded expression changed instantly to one of sincere contrition. “Do we?” He released his hold on his coffee mug long enough to give her hand one quick, businesslike shake, his grin never wavering, his gaze easily fixed on hers. “I’m terribly sorry. Apparently we got our dates or the time mixed up.” He glanced at his receptionist with no censure, nor did she look remotely abashed. “This is Diane,” he said, “my secretary. I guess we’ll have to add scheduling to the list of business to be discussed this morning.” His accompanying laugh was as fake as Diane’s inch-long nails.
Diane didn’t offer her aggressively manicured hand to Kate. Having already sized Kate up and decided there was no contest, she merely nodded, then picked up her mug for a sip.
“Well,” Kate said, all forced smile and equally fake enthusiasm, “I do hate to interrupt your business meeting.” She tried not to put undue emphasis on those last two words, but it was mighty taxing. “But if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, I’d really appreciate a few moments of your time.”
Stan nodded easily, then glanced at his secretary, who continued sipping her coffee, until Stan cleared his throat. “Diane, we can continue our discussion back in the office. Would you mind terribly giving Ms. Sutherland and I a few moments? I’d so appreciate it. You’re a peach.”
Diane just stared at him, as if being dismissed for Kate simply would not compute, but when Stan’s perma-grin began to fade ever so slightly, she quickly regrouped and beamed an I’m-your-best-gal smile right back at him. “Why, of course. I have those—”
Solitaire games to finish, Kate thought, not entirely kindly.
“—reports to file,” she finished brightly, proud of herself for coming up with the cover.
“Thank you, hon,” Stan said, already dismissing her before she’d even finished grabbing her hot pink, faux alligator purse and sliding from the booth, apparently unfazed by the somewhat patronizing endearment. He was already motioning the waitress over. “Can I get you some coffee?”
Kate shifted aside to let a now huffy Diane past, then slid into the booth behind her. She smiled at the waitress. “Regular please, with cream?”
The waitress hustled off. Stan didn’t watch Diane’s stalking retreat. Instead he picked up his mug again. “What was it you wanted to see me about, Ms. Sutherland?”
“Kate, please.” She paused while the waitress set her mug down and used the moment to size Stan up. He was tall, with a slender build, and a few decades younger than his cohort back at the office. She figured mid-fifties. Compared to the other locals in the diner, who were mostly in work trousers, boots, and flannel, he appeared every inch the small-town successful businessman, along the lines of a banker or town councilman. His tie was neatly knotted, if a bit out of date, and his shirt pressed, though not tailored. His hair was freshly barbered, his face smoothly shaved, and his gray eyes clear and sharp on hers. Her guess was Stan didn’t miss much. And despite Diane’s overt lack of sophistication, she imagined his secretary didn’t miss much either.
She
knew damn well they hadn’t forgotten her appointment.
She took a tentative sip, was surprised by the rich taste, and took another for fortification. “So, I wanted to talk to you about my camp.”
Stan lifted a hand. “Right, right. I seem to remember hearing something about that. The old Winnimocca place, is it?”
Kate smiled, but she was thinking, Why are you lying about knowing exactly who I am? Damn Mac for making her so paranoid. “Yes. That’s the place.”
“Did I hear right, that you’re trying to start up some center for, for crippled kids out at the old rich—” He broke off, and the slightest of flushes reached his cheeks as he quickly regrouped. “Your mother, I believe, once ran a summer program on the lake property, is that right?”
Kate nodded, allowing the faux pas to slide. Rich kids’ camp. She’d wondered what he might think of her, what judgments he might make, based on her family background. To that end, she purposely hadn’t dressed up for the occasion, wanting to present herself as she truly was, a hardworking woman trying to single-handedly resurrect a once thriving campground. “The program I am hoping—planning on—instituting is for children who face a number of different physical and mental challenges.”
“Commendable, Ms. Sutherland.”
“Kate,” she reminded him, then took another sip. “I’m not trying to be commendable, Mr. Harris—”
“Stan,” he offered perfunctorily.
“Stan,” she repeated. “I’ve been working in that field since graduating, and when my mother passed on and left the property to us, I thought it was the perfect use for it.”
Stan’s gaze dropped to her hand cradling the mug, then quickly back to her face. “Us?” he repeated. “So, you’re operating this place with your husband?”
Kate tried not to look insulted. So. Married made a difference. Married meant there was a man involved, which meant maybe this was actually a serious business proposition and not some silly dream operation run by a brainless, no-head-for-business woman. Somehow she managed to keep that opinion to herself. “No,” she answered directly. “Just as my mother did before me, I’ll be running the place myself.” She wasn’t sure the reminder would make so much as a dent in the thought process of someone who’d probably been narrow-minded since birth, but it couldn’t hurt to try. She didn’t linger on it, however, as he’d given her the perfect opening to probe a little, and she’d be damned if she’d pass it up. “By ‘us’ I meant my stepbrother, Shelby. Have you two met?”
She lifted her coffee mug, her eyes trained steadily on his face over the rim as she took a slow sip. She’d caught him off guard with that last part. His attention made a telling dip, just for a moment, but long enough to signal that he wasn’t being completely honest. “Can’t say as I recall. So is he a silent partner in your little endeavor, or…?”
“No. We’re just finishing up the details of the will, is all. And he had a hand in running it with my mother when he was younger, so his advice has been invaluable to me.” She kept her tone light, but never took her eyes off of him. Nope. Something definitely wasn’t right here. Stan wasn’t meeting her gaze as easily now. “You know how probates can go,” she said dismissively, as casually as possible. “Anyway, we’re close to breaking ground on some very extensive renovation work, and so I thought it was a good time to talk to you about getting the word out about my camp. I am definitely planning on involving as many of the local businesses as I can, both in skilled labor as well as printing shops, media outlets, the newspaper, that sort of thing.”
“Miss Sutherland—Kate—I’m afraid I’m not a placement office. You’re more than welcome to post whatever notices you’d like on our community service board. And I’m sure Jim at the Sentinel would be happy to talk to you about taking out a more detailed paid ad, which might reach those who don’t come into town as often. We might be a bit backwoods here, unlike the city life you’re more accustomed to, but I assure you word travels quite fast. I’m certain you won’t have any problem alerting the community to your needs.”
Kate noted a couple of things in his little speech that got her attention. One, for a man who purportedly didn’t know much about her, he knew she was from New York City. And she also noted he didn’t say she wouldn’t have a problem hiring people, just that they’d get the word about her intentions. Interesting.
She was sorely tempted to just come out and ask him what was going on, what he had against her and her camp. Or just straight out ask him what he might know about Timberline, for that matter, see what kind of reaction that got. But her mind was spinning a little too fast to sort everything out on the spur, and she didn’t want to make a wrong move and tip him off to what she was thinking. Not until she’d had a chance to think it through, anyway. She hated that her first thought had actually been not until she had a chance to talk it over with Donovan.
One day and she was already coming to depend on him. And at a time when she really couldn’t afford to depend on anyone but herself.
Apparently taking her silence to mean he’d regained the upper hand, Stan tried his used car salesman smile again. “As far as promoting the camp itself, don’t take offense, but I don’t know how much help Ralston can be for you. We don’t have too many crippled kids around that I know of.”
Kate ground her teeth to keep her smile even. “Challenged,” she mildly corrected. “And I know Ralston isn’t big in size, but I always thought small towns were big in heart.” He wasn’t the only one with a snakeoil pitch. “Ralston does serve the needs of a large county, many of whom do drive in a distance to do business here. I wasn’t thinking to have any big campaign or anything. I was merely hoping to maybe use your network of small businesses here to get the word out. Word of mouth is oftentimes the best method of promotion in a case like this. You never know who knows somebody with a child who might be in need of the kind of services I’ll be providing.”
Stan listened to her spiel with dwindling interest. “As I said, you can feel free to post anything you’d like on the community service board in the office. Anyone who has an interest will be sure to contact you.” He smiled and tried to look abashed. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, and probably not what you’re used to, given your background, Ms. Sutherland, but we are a small town, and it suits our needs.” He signaled for the check. “I wish I could do more to help.”
Kate barely kept her temper in check. Ignorant, smarmy ass. He not only knew exactly who she was and what she hoped to do, but he was going to do absolutely nothing to help her. She wouldn’t be half surprised if he actively planned to campaign against her. Not that she had a shred of proof, it was just instinct. Hers or Donovan’s at this point, she wasn’t sure and didn’t much care. She needed to get out of the diner before she said something she would regret later. She had to think of her camp first, last, and foremost.
She felt the beginnings of a tension headache spring to life. She slid out of the booth as Stan did the same. “Thank you for the coffee and your time.”
His unctuous smile reappeared as he held out his hand. “My pleasure, Ms.—Kate.” He gave her hand a quick shake, once again the friendly town councilman. “You stop by the office anytime and post whatever flyer or postcard you want to put up.”
“Appreciated,” she said, and somehow found a smile. She wondered if Stan thought she was some rich bitch socialite, dabbling in her little charitable endeavor. Her mother had not been the most compassionate person, and she’d probably made one or two enemies in the small town. Louisa Sutherland, to put it bluntly, was a snob. And so were her clients. Whenever possible, she’d avoided using the town’s admittedly limited resources. Only the best would do. And the best was certainly not going to be found in Ralston.
But something told her this had to do with more than the possibility of her mother’s lingering reputation. The camp had been closed down for almost a decade, and she’d abdicated a lion’s share of the day-to-day management long before that. And while the town might not have ful
ly prospered from the camp, it hadn’t been hurt any by it either. And here she was, wanting to help their economy yet again, and it was all the chamber of commerce head could do to give her five seconds of his time. Business was business. Money talked louder than old reputations.
It just didn’t add up.
“What do you know of Timberline Industries?” she blurted out, immediately kicking herself for her momentary lapse. But, dammit, she wanted to shake him up a little, let him know he wasn’t dealing with some brainless twit.
His gaze narrowed for a fraction of a second, and Kate suddenly wondered if she’d just done something a bit more brainless than she’d intended. But it was too late now.
“Not sure I recognize the name,” he said, recovering so smoothly it was as if his momentary lapse in keeping his guard up hadn’t even happened. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, really. Shelby had made some comment about them—” She stopped, smiled apologetically, and waved off the rest of the sentence. “Never mind.”
“Fine, then. I must be getting back.” He paused beside the table as she slid out and stepped past him. “And, uh, my condolences on the passing of your mother.”
Stan couldn’t usher her out of Deenie’s fast enough. Kate wasn’t sure how awkward it was going to be when they reached the sidewalk and he realized they were headed in the same direction, as she had to pass back by the chamber office on her way back to her truck. “Thank you,” she told him as he opened the door for her. Mercifully, someone back in the diner called him over to their table.
“Sorry,” he said, his smile not remotely sincere at this point.
“Not a problem. Thank you for your time.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Sutherland.” Which it clearly hadn’t been. For either of them.
The door closed behind her, and Kate stepped onto the sidewalk and let out a long sigh. “Well, that went just peachy,” she muttered.
The Black Sheep and the Princess Page 10
