Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “And your brother? What sort of coating does he have?”

  She turned her head to watch his reaction. It might just be necessary to take an exit before the state line after all. “Velcro.”

  He looked away and checked the mirrors as if buying time before a reply.

  “Before you ask, I don’t work with my brother. He’s a thief currently serving time for breaking and entering.” She stopped before adding the assault charge, the item on the list that put him in state prison instead of county jail. The one crime he’d tried and failed to get the public defender to fight. In the end he’d taken a plea for a minimum sentence. She knew he was innocent. Wrong time, wrong place, with jewelry from the neighbors on his person.

  “Then why not talk to the security guard? Or the police?” He sped past the final Minnesota exit.

  “It gets complicated.”

  “We’ve got almost seventy miles of highway to discuss it.”

  “We’re strangers.”

  “New acquaintances.”

  Mona settled back into her seat and considered his word choice. Did she want to become acquainted? It would be safer to keep the conversation general. Her exit plan from Minneapolis changed so fast it blurred. Get to Eau Claire. Walk away clean from Mr. Lincoln Dray. Find a cheap, safe place to spend the night. Then—big question without answers. “Sometimes I talk too much.”

  “I’ve been guilty of the opposite.” He settled the van behind an eighteen-wheeler and gestured toward her footrest. “Tell me about Mona Smith and her college backpack.”

  “Culinary student.” The words popped out before her brain could arrange an evasive response. “I’m trying for duel certificates in culinary and restaurant management. But school’s been put on indefinite hold.”

  “While you run away from criminals?”

  “My studies were interrupted before today.” She looked out the window but instead of seeing young corn and soybean plants in neat rows, she remembered her final real conversation with her mother.

  “Only one class this term?” Mona’s mother asked over a lap filled with another afghan in progress.

  “It’s all I can afford. Tips have been down. Don’t worry, it’s required for the management certificate and meets five days a week. I’ll be busy enough.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet a nice young man this time.” Her mother smiled and continued with the crochet hook.

  “Dating takes time away from other things. Anyway, I’ve not met any interesting young men for over a year now. Aren’t you the one always telling me to be patient?”

  “My hopes for you include a family. Is that so bad?”

  “Not at all. I’m just not in a hurry.”

  The very next day her mother collapsed at work. Twelve days and two surgeries later her body gave up the fight.

  “What happened?”

  Linc’s question pulled her back to the present. “Financial problems came up.”

  • • •

  “Ever hear of a town named Crystal Springs?” Linc interrupted one of their frequent calm silences. Each of their tiny conversations so far supplied another tidbit or two of intriguing information. In his imagination he viewed his knowledge of Mona growing from a sprouting seed to a tender plant putting out the first and then second set of leaves.

  Nothing contradicted the idea growing in his mind. This evening he’d get on the computer and take Daryl up on the offer of a free background check. He already knew enough basics to get the investigator pointed in the right direction. Thirteen days. How big a gamble was he willing to take?

  “I don’t think so. How far away is it?” Mona pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band she’d dug out of a pocket.

  “It’s near the Mississippi, in River County.”

  She nodded. “I’ve heard that name mentioned on the storm warnings.”

  “So you learn geography courtesy of the National Weather Service?”

  “Every spring.”

  “Hey. Whatever works.” He sorted a dozen questions sprouting in his mind. “My roots are there.”

  “Do you have lots of family in … Crystal Springs?”

  “Not now. Unless cemetery plots count.” Stop it. “The family still owns land. An entire farm three miles out of town, up on the hill.”

  “I’ve never visited a real farm. I think I’m a city girl from fingers to toes and all the stops between.”

  “Interesting description.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever works.”

  “The orchard’s on that land.” He glanced over and confirmed she was paying attention. “My dream is to develop a viable apple orchard on the place. I planted a thousand trees before I ran into a problem.”

  “Major?”

  “Big as they get.”

  “I’m familiar with extra-large economy-sized trouble.” She sighed.

  “I’m thinking one of yours is named Basil.” He checked the mile marker and fought the urge to slow down and extend their time together.

  “Today he moved past money and brother to top of the list.”

  “Something will come up.”

  “The next exit will be fine. I’ll have my choice of motels and restaurants.”

  “Save your money. I’ve got a better idea.” He ignored the exit with large tourist service signs and thought, Will you marry me?

  • • •

  Mona’s senses went on full alert the moment Linc bypassed the exit with multiple services displayed. What had she missed? Men and their “better ideas” made a sensible girl nervous. She concentrated on memorizing every sign in sight and keeping her panic from spilling out of her skin.

  Linc took the next highway exit, managed to catch a green left turn arrow at the top of the ramp, and continued too fast for more than keeping her fingers on the seat belt release. She needed the van at a complete stop for more than five seconds to get the door open, grab her pack, and scurry out.

  “We’re home.” Linc hit the garage door opener an instant before he turned from narrow asphalt street to cement parking pad.

  Time for me to go. She released her seat belt, grabbed her backpack with her left hand, and unlatched the door with her right. “Thanks for the ride. You’ve done more than enough.”

  “Hey. No need to panic.” He set the transmission to “park” and reached toward her.

  “You helped me. I appreciate it. I’m going now.” She shouldered her pack as soon as both feet hit solid ground. So much for the fantasy twenty miles back of parting as friends. She won the battle over her feet and moved away from the place Linc called home at a brisk walk instead of a sprint.

  He got out of the van and followed her. “Hey. Talk to me.”

  Wrong time and place. She aimed her steps toward the street sign at the corner.

  “Let me explain. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Too late. When she arrived at the sign, Benson Place, she turned to go up a small slope and risked a glance down the quiet street. A little tension shed off her body at confirmation he remained well away from her. She marked a mental point in his favor for not running in pursuit.

  Mona walked three blocks to the convenience store beside a stoplight before she risked another look back. From this position she could see the turn-off to the subdivision and a row of roofs in various shades of gray. She spit out the smell of earth from his van into the grass.

  Did all men lack common sense? During the drive Linc claimed to live alone—no roommate, no wife, no girlfriend. And he expected her to walk into the house beside him? Did he ever listen to the news? Did he have a clue of the fright and caution a man’s strength radiated to a small woman, even a veteran of a college self-defense class?

  A few minutes later she set an energy drink and granola bar on the store counter and reached for money. A few crumpled bills and Linc’s business card came into view.

  “Is that all?” The clerk scanned the first item.

  “I have a question.” She glanced around a
nd gathered a little courage. “Do you happen to know Lincoln Dray? He lives down the hill a couple of blocks.”

  While the clerk took his time to reply she fought off another image prompted by the smell of dirt in the van. “Drives a white van, delivery type, not many windows,” she added.

  “Not on a first-name basis with many of my customers.”

  “He’s young, maybe thirty. Six feet, blond … gray eyes. Goes by Linc.”

  “Beginning to sound familiar now. If it’s the man I’m thinking of he stops in for milk or ice cream couple of times a week.”

  Relief seeped out with her next breath. Buying milk established residence in the neighborhood at the most. She gathered her change and broke the seal on her drink. “One more question.” She pointed toward the sheltered bench at the edge of the property. “How often does the bus come past?”

  “Once an hour at this time of day. Should be one along in ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Time to explore. She knew little about Eau Claire aside from it being home to a university and larger than the neighboring cities in western Wisconsin. She figured two hours of good daylight remained to explore and find a safe place to stay the night. And if she was lucky, she’d gather a little information on Mr. Dray.

  Chapter Four

  Linc threaded his way against the flow of students headed into Phillips Science Hall for Friday morning classes. Twelve days. He frowned into sunshine outside the glass walkway at the realization he needed to cut the number in half due to Wisconsin’s waiting period. Yeah, his boss still offered tickets to Las Vegas, but he considered that beyond his current state of desperation. For a long moment he cataloged the students coming through the door and shook his head. Even in the summer session too many were below full legal age.

  A moment later he continued into a fine, early June day. The weather promised to be hot later, but now the air bathed his skin with perfect shirtsleeve temperatures. Today was one in which to savor his outdoor moments between errands and client calls—as soon as he got a cup of Kona coffee. Odd as it may seem, the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire served the best brew he’d found right here in the student center café.

  Carrying a large paper cup of steaming liquid, Linc turned away from the cashier a few minutes later and surveyed the dining area. He headed for an empty table with a good view of a young crabapple tree. Halfway across the room he came to a complete stop. Is it? He blinked twice and brought the girl near the far wall into sharp focus.

  She sat in profile to him, intently studying papers covering half the table, and ignoring the murmur of activity filling the room. He walked within three feet of her while silently sorting out opening lines. “Mona?”

  “You.” She turned her face to him, widened her dark, amazing eyes, and formed a perfect “O” with her lips. An instant later she turned over the papers as if to keep them secret.

  “I listened for the doorbell all night.”

  “That was foolish.”

  “Not the word I’d use.” He chose not to spoil the day, or this new, fortunate encounter by recalling the names he’d called himself during long, dark, futile hours. Instead he motioned to the other chair at her small table. “May I?”

  “Are you following me?”

  “I like the coffee here. My boss, Dr. Terrier, asked me to deliver some papers to a friend over in the biology department.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I owe you an apology for yesterday. I forgot … forgot to see the situation from your perspective.” He pulled out the chair and waited for her objection. When she merely gave a small nod he took a seat. He thought of the background check request he’d gone ahead and turned into Frieberg Investigations. If he’d not crossed paths with her today, would he have paid Daryl to find her tomorrow? “We should talk. I didn’t intend to scare you away.”

  “What did you plan? I needed a little help to flee from a dangerous man. I spoke clearly and concisely when I asked to be dropped off at a public place.” She toyed with the cap of a sports drink bottle. “Did I impress you as the sort of girl to walk into a worse situation?”

  “I’m not dangerous. Not in the way you imply. I have an extra bedroom, complete with a lock to keep me out.” He caged his hands around his cup to prevent them from touching hers. “If you’re going to stay in Eau Claire you’ll need a place to live. Unless that backpack of yours is filled with cash, a motel will run through your resources quick.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Are you interested in exchanging cooking and light housekeeping for room and board?”

  “You didn’t think to say this before pulling into your driveway?”

  “Not my finest moment.” Linc concentrated on keeping his mouth neutral. He wanted to smile. A bit of him longed to explain his impulsive actions. But he recalled the flash of terror on her face when she left the van yesterday. Twelve days, less six. She’s my final chance.

  “Separate bedrooms.” She put an edge of command in the words.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I can get a day job. Or evenings, if that’s what’s available.”

  He longed to give her permission to work any hours she could find. The cooking wasn’t that important. He’d offered it to salvage a fraction of the pride she displayed every time she moved her shoulders. That trace of stubborn independence attracted him as strong as a flower beckoned a bee. “I’ll be flexible on the details.”

  She tipped her head down, as if studying the backs of the papers spread out on her side of the table.

  “Do you have plans for the rest of today?” He lost the battle to avoid her and reached forward to brush his thumb across the back of her hand. The warmth of the touch startled him into a momentary retreat. Her skin felt as soft as a puppy’s and twice as inviting.

  She straightened, drew a deep breath, and gazed out the window. “I don’t know anything about plants, if you’re fishing for an assistant.”

  “Will you allow me to call a woman that might have a day of odd jobs for you?”

  “Legal? Moral?” She raised one of her exclamation-point eyebrows.

  He swallowed back a laugh and hid his lips behind the coffee cup for a moment. “My boss’s wife needs to get a house ready for an estate sale. After her brother-in-law died last month, her personal life took a turn for the worse and she hasn’t gotten things sorted.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “I’ll call her.” He hurried to tap a programed number before Mona could change her mind.

  • • •

  What have I done? Mona sealed her lips. Since he’d returned to her life by saying her name this morning, her stomach had lusted for the rich coffee aroma of his drink. And something else; a dormant kernel of curiosity planted yesterday yearned for satisfaction. It was hazy logic, or perhaps no logic at all, to agree to live with him. At his house. Separate bedrooms. Housekeeper. She closed her eyes for a moment and attempted to blame her reply on lack of sleep and caffeine.

  While he waited for a response on his phone she began to straighten the papers she’d been studying. Yesterday’s mail contained another bill from the hospital. The puzzling portion of this one was a credit of $4,812. She was grateful the bill was cut by a third but since the insurance company wasn’t listed as the payer and her meager, irregular payments of a hundred dollars here and there didn’t come close to this number, it was a bit of a mystery.

  Who’d paid her mother’s bill? Aunt Lucy? No, her mother’s only sister had contributed to the funeral expenses, but she didn’t have thousands to spare.

  Life insurance? Nothing in Mona’s correspondence with them indicated payment to the hospital. In the most recent letter they’d estimated payment in August, and for a different amount.

  “Lorraine. This is Linc.”

  Mona shifted her attention to her table partner and his side of the conversation.

  “No, I stopped for coffee at the student center.” He lifted his gaze to Mona. “I may h
ave found an assistant for your housecleaning, a young lady. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  “A student? Is she with you now? Available today?” A pleasant female voice drifted up from the phone laid in the center of the table.

  “No. Yes. And yes.” He nudged the smartphone in her direction. “Go ahead, Mona.”

  “Hi. Linc tells me you’re getting a house ready for an estate sale.” Mona skimmed her gaze up his arm, trying to catch a second glimpse of a scar. He’d turned his wrist again, shielding the interior of his forearm. Later. She sipped water from the bottle she’d refilled several times since yesterday. Lorraine asked basic questions and Mona supplied concise, truthful answers without volunteering additional information. In less than five minutes they decided that Linc would bring her to the greenhouse for a face-to-face meeting.

  “See you in a few.” Linc leaned into the space above the phone to finish the conversation.

  Mona moistened her lips and gathered a few of her wits that had seemed to scatter each time Linc dipped past an invisible boundary to contribute to the discussion. She remained aware of her skin behaving irrationally as it begged for a repeat of his touch. Dirt from his occupation blended with shaving cream in a scent to rouse her curiosity.

  “Are you good with this? Really good?” Linc reached for his coffee.

  “Fine as powdered sugar.” She lifted the backpack to her lap. “You have no need to look worried. Lorraine’s your friend. We’ve talked. Unless my judge-o-meter is broken you haven’t put me into the hands of a brothel madam.”

  He sputtered a mouthful of coffee into a napkin. “Jeeseh.”

  “That’s a lovely shade of red you’re wearing.” She tempered her building laugh into a genuine smile and watched him scramble for a response.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see that coming. Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”

  “In my experience, cops, attorneys, and drug addicts populate the lowest levels of society.” She zipped the smallest pouch of her pack closed. An image of Matt’s public defender intruded and she pushed against the memory of the young, inexperienced recent law school graduate. The prosecutor had presented evidence against Matt, yet Mona still wondered if a more experienced lawyer would have managed a better deal. Both she and Matt had expected probation after a few weeks in county jail—not two years in state custody.