“I heard the siren. Who got hit?”
“The Chapmans.”
My heart wilts. Al and Lorraine Chapman own Chapman’s Home Improvement Center. Right after Hurricane Rita ripped through our area, they discounted their prices so folks could repair their homes. Good Christian people. “I sure hate hearing that.”
“Me, too.” She twiddles her pencil. “Newspaper’s calling it arson.”
I hover my knife over the little single-serving butter tub. “Do they know that for sure?”
She nodded. “They quoted the fire chief. Said the city’s calling for an investigator from the FBI or something. Those beautiful old homes. It’s sad.”
“It’s a sin. Someone has no respect for antiquity. No love of beauty.” I shake my head and slather butter all over my pancakes. “How are the plans for your barbecue restaurant coming along?”
Her face lights up bright enough to guide ships from sea. “We’re buying the lot this afternoon. Just a block from here. Oh, Millie, I wish there was a way to thank whoever sent us the funds for this. Kyle said there was no return address...”
You bet there was no return address on that envelope. That’s what keeps an anonymous benefactor anonymous.
She gets called away again. I douse my pancakes with syrup and start scarfing them down with the sausage and eggs like I hadn’t eaten in a month. After I finish, feeling fuller than a tick on a fat cat, I reach for the ticket.
Six dollars and fifty cents? Highway robbery! You’d think those were the golden eggs the goose laid.
I dig the twenty out of my pocket and hobble up to the counter to pay the bill and then back again to leave a seven dollar tip for Annie. Leaves me with six and a half. More than enough.
Wonder if I can still find that pretty silver cat.
15
Silver grumbled from his cage in the passenger seat as Emily pulled into Lauren’s driveway Saturday afternoon. Lauren waved at her from the front yard where she stood watering the pansies with a garden hose.
Emily switched off her engine and climbed out, hoisting the pet carrier with her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend with me. I had to pick him up before the clinic closed and hated to drive back into town.”
Lauren twisted the nozzle on the hose to shut off the spray and strode to the car to peek at the drowsy cat. Emily could’ve sworn bright red cartoon hearts throbbed from her friend’s eyes. “Oh, he is just beautiful.”
“Isn’t he? He’s neutered and vaccinated and up for adoption, if you’re interested.”
Lauren laughed. “Oh, I’m interested. Just let me check with the boss first. Come on, let’s get him inside.”
“I’m glad you don’t mind. It’s a bit hot out here for a groggy cat. He’s suffered enough for a while.”
“I wish you had told me you were going to the clinic. I would’ve asked you to bring Scott.” Lauren stopped beside the house to turn off the faucet and then winked at Emily. “I would’ve put him to work helping Roger with the honey-dos.”
“He had a full waiting room. He told me to tell you thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“He said you’d know.” Emily pinned her with a mock glare. “But I’m sure it has something to do with our plans for tonight.”
“Oh. He’s welcome.” Lauren waggled her eyebrows. “And so are you.”
Emily playfully slapped her shoulder.
They walked inside, and Lauren pointed to a place beside the TV for Silver. Emily glanced at the dopey-eyed cat. Once his cage was still, he could drift back into oblivion until the anesthesia wore off. She lowered the carrier to the floor.
“It’s quiet in here. Where is everyone?”
“The kids are making the most of their Saturday at a neighbor’s pool.” Lauren dropped to her knees beside the coffee table and started stacking dominoes from a recent game back into the box. “I shooed Roger over to Chapman’s Home Improvement Center so he could get what he needs to finally fix that leaky shower. He should be gone for a good while.”
“Awful about the Chapmans’ home, isn’t it?”
Lauren nodded gravely. “The fire truck that passed me the other day was going there.”
“And there was another fire just Wednesday—Cal and Markie Wallace.”
“I wish they’d catch this guy.”
“Me, too.” Emily kicked off her shoes and knelt across from Lauren. She stacked the ace-deuce and double six in the box. “Do you think we’ll get enough out of an auction to help all three victims?”
“I don’t know. In a town this size, the money sources can either dry up quick or rally in the face of adversity.”
“Let’s just hope they rally.”
Lauren ripped the score page off a pad of paper and wadded it and then tore off several sheets and slid them to Emily along with a pen. “What are you planning to donate?”
“I don’t have much anymore.” Emily considered the irony of hosting a benefit while being so cash poor herself. “Cats, I guess.”
“Oh, sure. I bet they’ll fetch a good price.” With her chin in one hand, she tapped her pen on the table with the other. “We need to come up with a hefty plan to squeeze some money from our local rich folks.”
“Yeah, about that.” Emily stole a glance at her friend from under her brows. “I need you to take full credit for this fundraiser.”
The pen stopped tapping. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know the first thing about raising money like this.”
“I know. I’ll be right here to help you all the way. I just need to be behind the scenes.”
Lauren squinted at her. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just...well, these kinds of events attract the media. And we need the media. The more hype we can get, the more funds we’re likely to raise.”
“But you don’t want your face in the public, right? Is this about Wade?”
Emily nodded and frowned at her cuticles. “You should’ve seen the look he was giving me while I testified against him. Pure hate.” She shuddered at the memory. “I don’t want him to know where I am.”
“He can’t do anything to you. He’s in prison.”
“Yes, but he’s eligible for parole in a few months.” Emily sighed. “Charity fraud is a white-collar crime and his sentence wasn’t that stiff. He may not be the kind who would hurt me, but—”
“But we aren’t going to take that chance.” A quizzical look crossed Lauren’s face, and she tilted her head. “Wouldn’t he guess you came home? Doesn’t he know where you’re from?”
“No, he doesn’t.” She sighed. “We rarely talked about me—something else that should’ve clued me in to what a jerk he was. We talked about the orphanage and about him. All of it turned out to be lies, of course. I was an idiot.”
“No. You were a woman in love.” Lauren reached for Emily’s hand and rubbed her knuckles. “It’s a shame. I know how much you loved working with charities and organizing fundraisers. It’s like he took something from you. Took from you the one thing you love doing. What do you do now?” She smirked. “Write a check like the rest of us whenever someone wants money?”
“Oh, no. I fell into that trap in Houston, and it’s one thing I’m glad to have left there. Haven’t you ever noticed how many more solicitations you get once you start that?” Emily smiled. “No, I have my ways. I help who I want to help. I just do it anonymously.”
With raised brows, Lauren looked at her curiously, but shrugged when Emily didn’t say more. “All right, then. I’ll handle all the public stuff. You just show me what to do.”
The back door slammed, and Roger stumped into view with a sack in his hand, which he left by the door. “Wow. So much beauty in one place.” He leaned down to kiss his wife and tossed a smile at Emily.
“That didn’t take you long,” Lauren said.
“Knew just what I wanted and just where it was. The king of home repairs knows all.” He chuckled at Lauren’s smirk and then peeke
d into the carrier. “Great cat. Can we keep him?”
Lauren let out a whoop! and stretched her arms toward him. “I was hoping you’d want to.”
He returned and bent to accept her hug. “Have the town’s do-gooders been doing good, or have you two been gossiping the entire time?”
“We haven’t even started the gossiping yet.” A mischievous gleam appeared in Lauren’s eyes, and she pinned it on Roger. “You know, you could be a do-gooder, too.”
He looked like a trapped fox. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to have me picking out floral arrangements and linen napkins.”
“Of course not. Last time you did that, the flowers were orange plastic and the napkins were chartreuse.” She winked at Emily. “No, I want you to donate your services to be auctioned off.”
“No flowers and napkins?”
“Nope.”
“What will you give me in exchange?”
“What do you have in mind?” Lauren’s voice was low and sexy, a suggestive spark filled her tone.
He squatted next to her and rubbed circles on her back. Nuzzling her hair, he muttered, “Help me fix the shower leak.”
She pushed him, and he fell over backwards, laughing. “Hey, it was worth a shot.”
Using Lauren’s shoulder to haul himself up, he looked at Emily. “What about you? Want to help?”
“No, no. Not me. I’m not that much of a do-gooder. Besides, we’d better get to business before I have to scoot.” She grabbed the blank pages off the table and tamped them down into a neat bundle.
“Not staying for supper?” Roger gave her an impish grin. “You got a hot date?”
Emily felt heat rise to her cheeks at the knowing look on Lauren’s face.
Lauren winked at Roger. “She finally said yes to Scott.”
16
Standing before the mirror, Emily smiled at her reflection and slid her hands down the smooth navy satin of a floor-length split skirt. The last time she’d worn this had been at the grand opening party for Deck the Walls seven years ago, and it still fit. Her satisfaction waned when she caught sight of her bare toes peeking out from under the hem. Finding her shoes should’ve been the first thing she did. No telling where they were. Her skirt swished against her legs as she rushed to her closet, butterfly sleeves billowing.
She didn’t have an ounce of the confidence she’d felt when Scott asked her out, but she had no valid reason to be this nervous. This was Scott—her lifelong friend, her secret crush since sixth grade, her cats’ veterinarian—for goodness sake! At one time, having him ask her out would’ve caused her heart to float. Maybe it would still be light as eiderdown in the breeze if it wasn’t so busy hammering its imprint into her ribs.
Inside her modest walk-in closet, she dropped to her hands and knees to dig through shoes piled loosely on the floor. She had a classy pair of string sandals to wear with this outfit, but they were hidden among the sneakers and loafers her current lifestyle demanded. She found a smooth pebble resting on the floor and slipped it back into a pair of tennis shoes and then caught sight of the sandals in the back of the closet and grabbed them.
With both feet strapped precariously into the spike-heeled sandals, she stumbled back to her full-length mirror and caught sight of the dust on her shins and the cockeyed angle of her bugle-beaded neckline. She brushed and straightened and glared at her reflection. Even after everything she’d been through the past few years, ninny was a word she would never have applied to herself. Until this moment.
The doorbell clanged, and she slapped a hand over her startled heart. She blew a breath through her cheeks and then sucked in another. And another, until her nerves calmed and her senses returned.
This really was ridiculous.
Ninny.
With a final glare at her reflection, she headed downstairs and to the door, shooing cats with their shedding fur away from her skirt.
In his navy suit, striped tie, and crisp white shirt, Scott was a striking man. The breeze brushed his hair alluringly against his forehead as he held out a bouquet of Shasta daisies and baby’s breath. “Still your favorites?”
Surprise bubbled like champagne as she filled her arms with the flowers. “Yes, they are. Thank you for remembering. They’re beautiful.” She sank her nose into the petals and then waved him in with a smile. “Just let me put these in water.”
“Don’t you want to know what this is?” He stepped inside and held out a small, flat package wrapped in green paper and a white bow.
“That’s sweet, Scott, but you didn’t have to get me anything. The flowers are more than enough.” The rectangular gift was light and thin as a pancake. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
She handed the flowers back to him to hold and then slid her nail along the tape on the bottom of the present. The paper fell away, revealing the age-yellowed program of a high school play.
She caressed the pamphlet and flipped through it, remembering the names of her classmates. “I can’t believe you kept this all these years.”
“That’s what we’re going to see tonight.” His expression softened. “Of all our high school plays, this is the only one we starred in together.”
“I remember. Playing a role was always so much fun. I could be whoever I wanted to be, do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do.”
“Tell me about it.” He slid his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “As long as I could be someone else, I wasn’t shy. Stepping into character helped me survive college.”
Emily glanced at him, giving him a sly smile. “Too bad you never exercised what you’d learned before college.”
He laughed. “It took me all those years to perfect it, and by the time I got back, you were already gone.”
Gone. To Houston. To her downfall.
She reached for the daisies. “I need to put these in water.”
Upstairs in her kitchen, she stared absently at the vases stored in the cabinet over the refrigerator. Almost two years had passed since Wade received his prison sentence, and at least a year since she returned home for a fresh start. Would the pain of her life in Houston ever become a distant memory?
She shook her head. She should’ve broken her date with Scott. She just wasn’t ready.
But she saw no way out. He was standing downstairs waiting for her—probably surrounded by cats—and she needed to get moving or they’d be late. She glanced back to the table where she’d laid the program and the flowers.
He’d remembered. After all these years, he’d remembered.
Smiling to herself, she grabbed a clear, pot-bellied vase and filled it with water. Softly humming, she quickly arranged the flowers.
****
Good thing Lauren had reminded Scott of Emily’s favorite flowers. She had beamed when she saw the huge bouquet he brought. But the look of surprise on her face when he gave her the program made his chest swell. Tonight would be great. He just knew it. He’d seen the sadness cloud her expression and worried she would change her mind about going, but she was cornered now.
If she crawfished out of going to the play, she still had to face him alone in the refuge. If nothing else, they could sit on the stairs while he cajoled her into talking to him. Earlier, as he drove to her apartment, he’d made a pact with himself not to bring up Houston or question her about what happened there, but if she backed out of their date, all bets were off. He’d grill her like a T-bone on a hot fire until he gained some understanding of what had happened to the girl he’d loved most of his life.
He spied Daisy peeking from the round entry of a gray, carpet-covered box and stooped to coax her out. The fact that Emily would take care of the cats endeared her to him even more. She’d always been sensitive to both people and animals, kind-hearted and giving. Maybe someone in Houston had taken advantage of her generous nature. He balled his fist at the idea of anyone hurting her. She’d been wounded so deeply, there were times he didn’t recognize her at all, as if her personality had been alt
ered. And he didn’t know how to help.
Perhaps it was best he didn’t know who had caused her pain. He’d hunt the man down and serve him up as dog food.
Daisy eased out of the box and took a few tentative steps toward him, and he softened. She came within reach to allow him to pet her, and his anger melted entirely. He asked the Lord for forgiveness for wanting vengeance on whoever had hurt Emily. But, please, Father, show me how to help her.
Upstairs, her apartment door opened and closed, and she descended into his view. Excitement tightened his stomach, as it always did when he saw her. She smiled at him, and his breath rushed out in relief. She hadn’t changed her mind.
Whatever had made him react with all the cool of a pimply-faced teenager when she’d accepted this date was long gone. He met her at the bottom of the stairs and extended a smile and an escort’s arm.
****
After the play, Scott turned into a parking space outside Zabaglione’s. Emily’s heart jumped. She’d always wanted to eat here. The restaurant sat hidden off Main Street behind a black wrought-iron fence, a tidy courtyard, and a cracked red-brick façade, half covered with ivy. The Roma setting made the place a draw for tourists in the area, a prime location for married couples’ date nights, and a popular choice before the prom. And it was expensive.
“If you’re trying to impress me, you’ve succeeded.”
“Enjoy it.” Scott unlatched his seatbelt. “If we were still kids, our date would’ve been a cheap movie and a one-topping pizza.”
He exited the truck, circled it to let her out and then guided her through the gate and the herb-scented courtyard with his hand resting gently on the small of her back. Every molecule in her body focused on the warmth of his touch.
A fragrant blanket of Italian spices wrapped them the moment they entered the restaurant. The hostess led them to a quiet corner booth with a white linen tablecloth and a tapered candle dripping wax on a fat-bellied wine bottle. The waitress brought two glasses of ice water and the menus.
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