Daddy's Little Matchmaker

by Roz Denny Fox

  “And go where? Your grandmother wanted you to carry on her work here. She came to me when she’d heard of the squatter’s provision in our statutes. Hazel was a lonely, bitter woman. You truly were the only bright spot in her life.”

  Laurel hugged both arms around her purse as she considered her lawyer’s words. “I love this part of the country. Maybe Grandmother’s friends in Berea know of an inexpensive place I can rent. There’s a fine weaving gallery there. I’d have to promise not to duplicate their patterns but we could coexist.”

  “No need to make a hasty decision. I’ve always found it best to sleep on a difficult situation. Things usually look better the next morning.”

  “That’s good advice. I need to think this through. I shouldn’t be complaining. Instead, I ought to thank you for all your support.” Laurel extended her hand, and Avery Heeter shifted his briefcase so he could shake it.

  When the van beside them pulled away, they were rocked by a blast of wind. Avery stepped back and glanced uneasily at the sky. Dark clouds had begun to scuttle overhead. “I’d better move along. Seems to be a storm brewing. I hope I can beat the rain to Lexington.”

  Laurel hadn’t noticed the ugly dark clouds that were moving fast across an otherwise unremarkable navy sky. “I didn’t expect thunderstorms until mid-September.”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?” Laurel asked, still studying the swirling black clouds.

  “Oh, I’m no weather authority.” Heeter laughed. “Early storms are rarely anything to worry about. And you’re right, the fall Gulf hurricane season brings our worst downpours. This is likely a teaser. It’s been so hot—we should be glad if we do get some rain to cool us off.”

  She smiled brightly. “Take care on the drive home, Avery. I do so appreciate your coming all this way to represent me.”

  They waved and climbed into their respective vehicles.

  Driving back to her cottage, Laurel felt that the weather matched her mood. The darkest of the black clouds broke open before she reached the clearing. Her favorite parking spot had already turned muddy underfoot by the time she shut off her engine and crawled out.

  Dog bounded off the porch and ran to greet her. His wet paws made a mess of the light blue suit she’d bought to wear for the trial, at Avery’s suggestion. “Got my skirt all yucky,” she told Dog, brushing at the worst spot.

  She kept a hand on the big dog’s head as they crossed the bridge. Laurel couldn’t help noticing that her normally placid creek was now churning up mud from the bottom of the streambed.

  Fat raindrops soaked her hair and all the way through her suit coat. Rather than linger on the bridge to watch the fascinating turbulence of the water, she dashed on across the yard and took refuge on her covered porch.

  She sniffed, and thought the air smelled fresh and clean. “Instead of going straight to work, Dog, let’s play hooky.” It crossed Laurel’s mind that this might be her last opportunity to ride to the top of Bell Hill without risking trespass. Or was that already defying the court order?

  A good ride always cleared her mind. Saddling Coal Fire some twenty minutes later, she felt as if she’d assumed some semblance of control over her life again.

  The rain slackened as the gelding climbed the lower section of the narrow, scarcely traveled path. When she reached the fork where her branch of the creek split from the one Alan had claimed, Laurel couldn’t help thinking of their last visit here. She and Alan had laughed and talked a lot that day. It was really the beginning of their deeper relationship. A relationship she hated losing.

  Resting at the spot that held so many memories and broken promises, Laurel kept her gaze on the path ahead. Her eyes were wet from tears, not from the rain, which had virtually stopped. Her goal in reaching the top of Bell Hill was to make one last survey of what had been her grandmother’s legacy.

  She whistled for Dog. He crawled out from the thick underbrush and shook his wet fur, making her laugh. Laurel nudged the big gelding into the switchbacks. Some areas of the trail were still slick from the recent downpour, and muddy. Others had already dried. She slid out of the saddle, leading Coal Fire the final hundred yards. As a result, she, horse and dog were all winded when they capped the last rise.

  The last person on earth Laurel expected to find perched on a rock was the man she’d so recently left in court.

  A stiff wind ruffled Alan’s dark hair. He, too, had changed out of his business attire, and looked elegantly casual in a pair of khaki Dockers. The sleeves of a brown-and-gold plaid shirt were rolled up over his well-tanned forearms. He had the stem of a green blade of wheat grass tucked between his even white teeth. Laurel was so forcibly reminded of the last time they’d been here that the ache under her ribs took away what was left of her breath.

  “Give me a minute, then I’ll leave. I know I’m trespassing, but…I wanted—I don’t know why I came. Are you here to gloat?”

  “No.” The single word fell heavily from his lips. Slowly, Alan removed the blade of grass from his mouth. Seeing her out here brought such a mixture of joy and pain to his heart. “I thought I might run into you up here, Laurel.” He confessed, “I hoped I would.”

  “Why? What’s there to say, Alan?” she finally murmured in a husky voice.

  He slid off the rock in one fluid motion, at the same time tossing aside the blade of grass.

  She shrank from his imposing height, and then was angry at herself for allowing him to have such an effect on her scattered, shattered emotions.

  “Don’t. Please don’t ever flinch away from me. And don’t think about fleeing. You’ve ignored my calls and evaded all my attempts to discuss the truth about what led to today’s court appearance.”

  “What’s the use? It’s over.”

  Because he had a grip on her now—and because, whenever she was in his arms, Alan lost all rational thought—everything that had contributed to their problems fell away. He slid his hands up her back into her wet hair and anchored her mouth to his with an almost savage desperation. His heart slammed in excitement, especially as he felt Laurel dig her fingers into his shirt and kiss him back with abandon.

  The kiss went on for what might have been mere seconds or could have been an eternity. Both of them were panting hard, hearts racing, when they finally broke apart.

  Laurel ruined everything by wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

  “How dare you take such liberties.”

  Unable to catch his breath long enough to speak, Alan simply held out an imploring hand.

  Reacting to the anger in his mistress’s voice, Dog moved his bulk between them and whined. His black ruff bristled.

  “I’m sorry. I had no right.” Alan knew if he didn’t speak quickly, the moment would be lost, and the chance of Laurel ever letting him close enough to explain, to remedy their situation, would be zero. His first attempt came out garbled. “I didn’t…it wasn’t…I never wanted… Hardy and Dale acted on their own.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence just because I’m naive when it comes to choosing romantic partners.”

  “You’re not. I mean, you are smart, and you’re not naive. What I’m trying to get through to you is the God’s honest truth, Laurel. I told you the retainer clause with our contractor was running out. Hardy was afraid it would, that I’d be willing to let it go so you’d have more time to make up your mind.” He tucked one hand in his pocket and with the other massaged his neck. “I’d give you the moon over Kentucky if I could, Laurel. But it involeved more than just me.”

  She walked to the center of the bald hill. Holding her arms tight to her sides, she stared out over the rain-washed landscape spread out below. As she chewed at the inside of her mouth, a gorgeous rainbow arched over Alan’s distillery. Then, below the first swath of color appeared a second, and both shimmered in the thready sun, casting shades of red, orange, yellow and green over the rooftops and trees.

  “Oh, my!” Her lips began to tremble. Laurel had only ever see
n one double rainbow in her life, and she took it as a sign that better things were in store.

  Alan heard her exclamation while he tried to decide whether to give up trying, and just go. Wanting to see what caused her reaction, clambered up the hill to stand behind her.

  “Twin rainbows,” she said tremulously, pointing.

  “Ah, it’s still raining between here and my place and the sun’s come out behind us. Sunlight diffused through raindrops is how rainbows are formed.”

  “But there’s a second. Isn’t that rare?”

  “A reflection of the first. Not nearly as bright. Secondary rainbows never are. Notice how the colors are reversed.”

  “Oh, no, we’re losing the lower one. It’s fading.” Laurel’s disappointment was palpable.

  “The clouds are moving in again.” Alan squinted up at the sky behind them. “Appreciate it quickly. Once the clouds come between us and the sun, your rainbow is history.”

  She removed her gaze from the spectacular sight long enough to study him with a frown. “You’re an expert on rainbows because?”

  He slipped his hands in his belt in a familiar stance. “Comes from home-schooling Louemma,” he said with a laugh and a rueful shake of his head. “I’m sure when I studied elementary science I didn’t learn half of what Rose comes up with for her. You should’ve seen us a few months ago. Whenever my grandmother or I walked into Louemma’s bedroom, we had to duck. She was studying the planets, so I spent a few nights creating papier-mâché globes to hang from her ceiling. The rings of Saturn were a special challenge. Louemma gave me directions.” He paused. “The other kids probably had the fun of making their own.” His pleasure decreased noticeably.

  Dark shadows of grief for his daughter’s affliction crowded out the light that entered his eyes when he spoke of the normal activities other parents took for granted.

  If anything melted Laurel’s heart, it was seeing Alan’s obvious love for his child exposed in such a raw fashion. “Louemma is progressing, Alan,” she said, touching his wrist. “If I stay on at the cottage, I want you to know I’ll continue to work with her twice a week. More if you see it’s helping.”

  His face registered surprise. “What do you mean, if you stay on? The buildings and all the land around them are yours, Laurel. The court recorder will be sending you a clear title deed.”

  She hopped down from the flat rock where they’d been facing each other. Gathering Coal Fire’s reins, she untied him from a shrub. She could feel Alan’s unhappy gaze following her to a log she used to make mounting easier. It wasn’t until she’d settled in the saddle that she spoke again. “When I finally found the strength to break away from Dennis, I made a promise to myself, Alan. I said I’d never be beholden to another man. Maybe you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and I should say thanks for your generosity, but…it feels like just another form of betrayal.”

  “Dammit,” he said, legs wide. “I would’ve bought the upper acreage from you. Or leased a path up the hill for the canal. And if Windridge had remained solely in Ridge hands—had my mother not incorporated to improve our cash flow—it would’ve been strictly up to Grandmother and me. Hell, for all I know, my grandfather may have given Ted and Hazel the impression they could pass this on to their heirs.”

  “Your grandmother isn’t of that opinion, is she? She believes my grandmother filed out of vengeance. And your manager, Hardy, and your attorney think that, too. I saw it in their eyes. They think I’m a chip off my mother’s block—that I seduced you into taking my side.” Her laugh was short and cynical.

  “Do I look like I give a damn what any of them think?” Alan could see at a glance that this was the wrong approach. Laurel stiffened measurably. “I take that back. If I haven’t already, I’ll set them straight. But that’s the main drawback of living in a small town, Laurel. Other people stick their noses in your business. From experience, I know you can’t stop folks from gossiping. The only way I know to get past caring about rumors is to ignore them.”

  “Easy for you to say. Your name is respected.”

  “Bull!” Alan leaped down off the boulder. If she only knew the rumors that had spread after Emily’s death. And he didn’t even want to find out if there was truth to some of them. Damn, if it wasn’t still so difficult to deal with, he’d lay it all out now. He’d tell her his best friends thought Emily had been leaving him for the latest in a string of lovers.

  Alan landed hard, too close to the gelding. The horse spooked and reared up. Dog sprang forward, knocking against Alan’s knees. It all happened in a split second—a second Laurel used to wheel the black around and bolt back down the trail.

  By the time Alan regained his balance, she’d disappeared. Dog ran back and forth, whining. “Go,” Alan grumbled, waving the animal off. “Go after her. Slow her down so she doesn’t break her neck.”

  The shepherd licked Alan’s hand. Then he tore off down the pine-needle-covered path.

  Alan, who’d come up by a different route, now faced the arduous task of picking his way downhill, back to the distillery. He wished he’d remembered to tell Laurel about the construction crew that would be starting the canal project on Monday. Hardy hadn’t wasted any time. He’d been on the phone immediately after the judge had signed his decree. Windridge’s manager was determined the corporation wasn’t going to lose out on getting the crew they’d paid to retain. If it was only about money, Alan would agree. But he’d hurt Laurel, and nothing was worth that to Alan.

  The sun popped out from behind the clouds again. Warm rays beat down on his back as he trudged downhill. He could hardly believe that he and Laurel were fighting over this spongy earth underfoot and the still-wet branches slapping his arms. On the other hand, wars had been fought over turf from time immemorial.

  Dammit, he didn’t want to be at war with Laurel. He’d grown comfortable with her. Watching her weave gave him a sense of comfort, of…belonging. A feeling he’d always lacked in his life, despite his family’s long history in this area. To him, home had more to do with a sense of sanctuary and safety, a calm center. He’d never found that with his wife; Emily had always been a bundle of frenetic energy.

  Until he’d met Laurel, Alan couldn’t quite put his finger on why Emily felt a need for other distractions when she had a home, a daughter, a husband and friends in Ridge City. He’d supposed that over time they’d merely drifted apart. Heaven knew Emily had accused him often enough of losing interest. He didn’t consider himself inattentive, but somehow he’d never been able to keep up with her.

  After spending long, lazy hours sometimes doing nothing with Laurel, he was able to see how Emily had drained energy from everyone around her. She’d moved through life at warp speed, and she’d expected the world to keep pace.

  Walking out here alone, Alan had time to ponder a few things. Did some people have a premonition they might die young? Had Emily? With each passing year, especially once they’d had Louemma, Alan became more of a homebody while Emily needed…more.

  It was a difference that caused problems over Louemma. Alan had wanted his daughter home, trailing after him, asking endless questions. Emily insisted she take classes, riding lessons, tap and ballet. Swimming lessons. Baton. As well, it seemed they were always shelling out big bucks for her to join one or another organized group. Camp Fire Girls, junior charm school, soccer. Alan much preferred to take Louemma to the library to poke through the kids’ section. Emily demanded all their daughter’s free time—as if Alan and she were competing for Louemma’s love.

  Maybe that was why he’d balked when his grandmother had wanted him to take Louemma to Laurel’s demonstration at Charity Madison’s.

  If he explained to Laurel the affect she’d had on his life, if he laid out a before-and-after-Laurel scenario, she might have been willing to let him back into her life. He refused to think into her bed; Laurel had always meant more to him than someone to fill sexual desires.

  Vestal met him at the door. “Where have you been
? I’ve called all over. Louemma said you said you were going to see Laurel. Her answering machine’s taking her calls.”

  “I didn’t go to her house. I suspected she’d want to make one last trek up Bell Hill—or what she’d see as one last trek. Seems I was right. What do you need? Lord, Louemma’s okay, isn’t she? I turned off my cell phone while we were in the courtroom. I forgot to turn it on again.” Taking it from his belt, Alan rectified the situation then and there.

  “Hardy’s been calling here every ten minutes. Dave Bentley delivered the final blueprint for the expansion and renovation. They want to start at six, Monday morning. Hardy needs you to come to the distillery and sign off on the plans.”

  “Huh, why wasn’t he this conscientious when it came to dealing with Laurel?” Alan heaved a sigh. “That’s not entirely fair. I was dragging my heels—unwilling to push her. If he phones again, tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Seeing how upset she was after Wes Parnell ruled in our favor, well, I got to thinking.”

  Alan grinned. “Uh-oh. That’s dangerous.”

  Vestal wasn’t too frail to cuff his shoulder. “At lunch, I started to wonder why we need our new mash tanks connected to the creek water. Birdie reminded me how Jason used to complain that no matter where he dug on the property, he had to drill through limestone. Why couldn’t we attach the new tanks to the existing warehouse, build a new pump house and sink another well?”

  “I asked that very question in a board meeting, remember?” At her blank look, Alan chuckled. “You said our meetings are so boring they put you to sleep. That must’ve been one that did.”

  “I won’t deny it. So tell me, why won’t my idea fly?”

  “First, preliminary studies proved a canal is cheaper. Second, there’s something in the county codes about not placing new buildings in direct proximity to historic dwellings. Dale Patton said our house and the distillery meet the criteria.”

  “Oh. I might have known it’d boil down to something politicians did to make our lives miserable.”