Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)

Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3) Page 28

A woman answered. She was tall, willowy and very young. Susannah suspected she wasn’t a day over thirty. “You must be Susannah,” she said, stepping aside to invite her in.

“Yes.” Susannah nodded for emphasis, nervous and unable to hide it.

“Sit down.” The woman gestured toward the French doors leading to an office off the living room.

Susannah sat on the edge of a chair and fidgeted with the zipper on her purse as she waited for the other woman to walk behind the desk, sit down and reach for a pad and pen.

“How exactly can I help you?” Shirl asked.

Heaving a giant sigh to ease her nervousness, Susannah explained the situation as straightforwardly and honestly as she could. As she spoke, the private detective took notes. Her long brown hair repeatedly fell forward and she repeatedly pushed it back, looping it around her ear. Susannah tried not to be irritated by that. Why didn’t the woman just wear it in a ponytail?

“You wouldn’t happen to know Jake’s social security number, would you?” Shirl asked hopefully, flinging back her hair as she looked up.

“No.” Unzipping her purse, Susannah withdrew two sheets of paper. She unfolded them and slid them across the desk. “These are all the Jake Presleys my friend and I found on the Internet. I’ve talked to each one personally and can verify they aren’t the Jake I knew.”

Shirl nodded. “Good. No need to go over ground that’s already been covered.”

Susannah began to relax. Despite Shirl’s distracting gestures with her hair, she liked the no-nonsense manner in which the woman conducted business. After a few more questions, Shirl laid down her pen.

“Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me locate your friend?”

Susannah couldn’t think of a single thing. Then she remembered something she hadn’t thought about in years. “Yes,” she cried. “Jake had a benign tumor as a kid. He had to have it surgically removed and has a thin scar on his left side about two inches below his waist. In front,” she added.

Her face turned twenty shades of red as she realized the other woman would guess how and when Susannah had viewed Jake’s scar.

Thankfully the private detective didn’t comment but merely noted this latest bit of information. Then she looked up again. “As I said over the phone, I’ll need a thousand-dollar retainer.”

Susannah swallowed and opened her purse. No one would consider the job for anything less than a thousand up front. If she was going to get the answers she needed, she had no choice but to spend the money.

“You take credit cards, don’t you?” she asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

“Yes, I do,” Shirl said, smiling across the desk at her.

With shaking fingers, Susannah withdrew her credit card and handed it to the private investigator.

Now all she had to do was find a way to tell her husband.

CHAPTER 22

Carolyn stayed late at the mill. Production had closed down for the day and the crew had left the yard. The work site was uncharacteristically quiet. During the day, the office, too, was filled with constant activity; everything changed the minute the whistle blew, signalling the end of the working day.

By late afternoon, she was alone with her thoughts. Alone, period, and that was how it would stay.

Coward that she was, Carolyn had contacted Kettle Falls Landscaping and left a message canceling the additional work she’d ordered for her front yard. She’d be foolish to pursue a relationship with Dave Langevin. This attraction she felt unnerved her. She wasn’t good at relationships; her failed marriage proved it. Her father hadn’t done well in choosing his life partner and she hadn’t, either. But unlike him, she wasn’t willing to have an affair. Besides, how would it look for the owner of the mill to be seen with a yard man? That was a snobbish reaction, she knew, but it was what many townspeople would say and she couldn’t ignore that. She had a duty to her family name. A duty to the community. Getting involved with Dave would only lead to unnecessary complications. Complications she could live without.

Carolyn had accepted this responsibility long ago. Rather than dwell on how structured her life was, she tackled the paperwork piled on her desk. Because she was constantly interrupted during the day, she generally stayed late two or three nights a week to deal with memos, requests and other paperwork that demanded concentrated effort. Some of this she could have handed off to her personal assistant, but she didn’t and wouldn’t. Here, in these quiet moments, she gained needed perspective on the business. She tracked orders, kept an eye on inventory, became aware of any staff problems and more.

The still of the late afternoon slipped away. She worked steadily until eight. Then, sitting back in her chair, she turned off her computer and collected her purse, ready to call it a day.

After locking the office, Carolyn waved a friendly goodbye to Nolan, the security guard, and headed toward her vehicle, enjoying the warm evening air. Summer was her favorite season. Here it was, the end of June and it was still light. Maybe that was why she resisted the idea of going home. She decided to visit Susannah, instead, and was driving in that direction when she passed He’s Not Here.

The local tavern was a regular hangout for many of the mill workers. A few cars were scattered across the parking lot now, but by this time most of the work crew had gone home to their families.

Then she saw it. The battered truck that belonged to Dave Langevin. Her heart started to beat erratically. By now he would’ve gotten word that she’d cancelled the extra work. He’d know what that meant. She couldn’t help wondering if he was disappointed.

Almost without volition, Carolyn found herself turning into the lot. She sat in her truck for at least five minutes trying to figure out what to do. Her hands were clammy, her stomach was jumping with nerves, and her heart raced. It felt as if a simple decision—whether or not to go inside—was one of the biggest of her life. Swallowing hard, she climbed out of her truck and walked toward the tavern.

The darkened windows barred the sunlight, and it took Carolyn’s eyes a moment to adjust. She stood inside the entry and glanced around, looking for Dave.

The place was less than half-full and she saw him right away. He sat at a corner table, his back to the wall, nursing a beer. He glanced up and for the most fleeting of seconds, their eyes met.

Slowly, Carolyn stepped farther inside. The jukebox played a Reba McEntire ballad, and the scent of beer hung in the air. A few men sat at the bar and on the opposite side three or four others were involved in a noisy darts game. One couple, well past sobriety, clung to each other on the tiny dance floor.

Carolyn slipped into a booth that looked directly toward the table where Dave sat. The aching way he made her feel seemed to intensify. It was as if everything female within her sprang to life whenever she was near him. She’d assumed those feelings had disappeared years ago, after her divorce. But Dave Langevin’s mere presence had revived them.

Although they’d occasionally talked, she knew next to nothing about him. He’d revealed little of his past, little about himself. He was always courteous and polite. He’d never even touched her and yet she felt his touch every time he looked at her.

“What can I get you, sweetie?” the barmaid asked, strolling up to the booth with a tray in one hand.

“I’d like a beer,” Carolyn said, needing fortification. “Whatever you have on draft.” A cold beer would taste good after a long, hot day. On an empty stomach the alcohol would likely affect her more quickly, in which case she could order something to eat before she went home.

The woman returned with a frosty mug. The foam spilled over the sides of the thick glass as she thumped it down on the lacquered wood table. Carolyn took a long swallow. It went down just as smoothly as she’d hoped.

When she’d finished half her beer, she began to feel relaxed. With open curiosity she studied Dave, who didn’t seem embarrassed by her interest. He met her gaze and slowly smiled. Her heart smiled back and her lips followed before she grew flustered and looked away.

After a few minutes, Dave stood up and seemed to be walking straight toward her. When he walked past her booth and over to the jukebox, she started to breathe normally again. The first tune, the same Reba ballad that had been playing when she arrived, echoed through the room. Then he went back to his table, pausing in front of her booth for just an instant. Just long enough to let her know he’d wanted to ask her to dance, but changed his mind. The very way she’d changed hers…

By the third number, a slow love song, Carolyn was ready to leave. She’d made a mistake in coming here. All she’d done was embarrass herself.

At that moment, Dave rose from his chair, his eyes holding hers. With her pulse nearly going crazy, she watched as he came toward her.

Had her life depended on it, she couldn’t have looked away. Everything and everyone else in the tavern became a blur.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked in a low voice, offering his hand.

There wasn’t anyone else on the dance floor; the drunken lovers had apparently gone home. She nodded and stepped out of the booth. When she placed her hand in his, Dave smiled down at her. The warm sensation of his touch rocked her, but she tried not to let it show.

Without another word, he led her to the other side of the room. When his arms circled her waist and he brought her close, Carolyn slid her hands up his chest and left them there.

The music played, but they barely moved as they continued to gaze at each other. Carolyn felt the strong, steady beat of his heart.

The electricity between them was volatile, threatening to burst into flames with the slightest provocation. Carolyn felt it with every breath she drew. The desire to slip her arms around his neck and urge his mouth to hers nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted him so badly that she closed her eyes, certain he’d see what she was feeling—certain she’d act on it if he did.

The music stopped and a full minute passed before Dave let her go. When his arms fell away, she released the pent-up tension in a long, deep sigh.

“Thank you,” he said.

All she could do was nod.

Together they returned to the booth. He waited until she was seated, then went over to the bar, paid his tab and walked out the door.

Carolyn retrieved her purse and slapped twenty dollars on the table. Unwilling to wait for her change, she hurried after him.

At first she didn’t see Dave. The sun had set and the last light was disappearing at the edge of the sky. Then she found him, standing next to his pickup, the door already open.

“Dave,” she called out, moving toward him. She didn’t know what she intended to say, but she knew she couldn’t just let him leave.

He didn’t answer, but waited for her to join him.

Carolyn approached him, more confused and uncertain with every step. As she came closer, she stared up at him, lost in her feelings.

All she really had to do was look in his eyes and see the tenderness there, the longing. No man had ever looked at her like that. Not even her husband.

Without a word, Dave lifted his hand and held it to the side of her face. His skin was callused and rough against hers. Carolyn closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, moving gently against it. Had she been a kitten, she would have purred with the sheer pleasure of his touch.