Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (13 page)

"What do you—?"

Cameron zipped his lips when a waiter came to the table. He waited for the server to take two orders and then resumed the conversation when he left five minutes later.

"What did you mean a moment ago when you said you wanted to talk about my role in the storm?" Cameron asked. "I did what anyone would have done in that situation."

"You did," Candice said.

"So?"

"So I want to know how you knew that cloud was a tornado and not a simple thunderstorm. I didn't miss the urgency in your voice, Mr. Coelho."

"It's Cameron. Please call me Cameron."

"OK. I will," Candice said. She smiled sweetly. "Now please tell me how you knew."

"I had a hunch, that's all."

"Horsefeathers! I'm a reporter, Mr. Coelho … Cameron. I'm also a woman who has spent much of her life in the company of men. I can tell when a man is telling a tale."

Cameron chuckled.

"Did you say 'horsefeathers'?"

Candice blushed.

"I'm not sure what your point is, but yes, I did."

"It's nothing," Cameron said. "I've just never heard that expression."

"Perhaps you can put it in your book."

"What book?"

"Your book," Candice said. "Your journal."

Cameron turned white.

"What journal?"

"Come now, Cameron. Every academic man keeps a journal. My father kept a journal."

I know. It's sitting in my room.

"You're partly right. I don't keep a journal, but I do maintain a portfolio. I put my notes from yesterday's interview in it."

Candice smiled warmly.

"You see?"

Cameron paused before replying. All of a sudden, he didn't want to talk about his notes. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to look at the intoxicating woman in the blue silk dress.

"I can see why others think highly of you," Cameron said. "You know how to get answers."

"Thank you," Candice said. "But it appears I did not get an answer to the question I asked a minute ago. How
did
you know the storm would be serious?"

"Can I give you a rain check on that?"

"A what?"

"Can I tell you later?" Cameron asked.

Candice frowned.

"I suppose."

Cameron sighed with relief. In any other situation, he would have ordered a cocktail to calm his nerves. In a public restaurant in 1925, however, that was not an option. He sipped some water, the hardest drink available, and leaned forward.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Of course," Candice said.

"Do you have insurance on your house?"

"We do."

"Will the insurance company cover your losses?" Cameron asked.

"It will cover most of them. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious. I assume you will want to rebuild the house."

"You assume incorrectly," Candice said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that my brother has given my mother and me permanent quarters. We are content to live in his house on First Street for the foreseeable future."

"I see," Cameron said. "What about the property itself?"

Candice took a breath.

"That's a good question. My mother wants to lease the land to our neighbors, the ones who took us in last week, and then sell the property in the fall. I would like to hold onto it for at least a year or two. The land has sentimental value, if nothing else."

"I'm sure it does," Cameron said.

Candice sipped her water.

"Now let me ask you a question."

Cameron chuckled.

"You already have."

Candice stared at him and raised a brow.

"Let me ask you
another
question."

"All right," Cameron said.

"Who are you?"

Cameron felt his stomach drop. He began to wonder whether dinner was a reward for good behavior or an interview with Diane Sawyer. He pulled himself together.

"I'm a doctoral student from Providence, Rhode Island."

"That's not what I meant," Candice said. "I meant, who
are
you? Tell me a little about your background and your family life."

Cameron sighed a second time. He could not remember the last time he had been around someone so adept at keeping him on edge.

"Do you really want to know?" Cameron asked.

"Yes," Candice said. "I really want to know."

Cameron sighed.

"OK. I'm warning you, though, that my story isn't the happiest."

Candice offered a comforting smile.

"No one has a happy story. We all go through life in different states of misery."

Cameron chuckled.

"I suppose we do."

"So tell me then," Candice said. "What misery do you have to share?"

Cameron pondered the question as the waiter returned with the meals and placed them on the table. He wondered if there was a way he could answer it truthfully without inviting trouble. He waited until the server left and then started with the big picture.

"So you want to know my background? I'll tell you," Cameron said. "My mother walked out on my father and me when I was five weeks old. She didn't provide an explanation or even leave a note. She just left. She left and never came back."

"That's awful," Candice said.

"In any case, I don't remember her. My father got an annulment, remarried two years later, and moved his family, my new family, from Boston to Providence. He raised me there until he died of a heart attack when I was ten."

Candice frowned.

"You weren't kidding. You have had it rough."

Cameron shrugged.

"I guess. I managed though. After my father died, I moved in with my paternal grandparents in Bristol, Rhode Island, and did the things that most boys do. I played baseball, delivered papers, and chased girls. When my grandparents died several years ago, I used the money they left me to attend college and then graduate school."

Candice smiled.

"Well, Mr. Coelho, I must say you bring a lot to the table."

"Like I said, my story is not the happiest, but it's not the saddest either," Cameron said. "I had some good years with my grandparents. I've also done most of the things I've wanted to do."

"Do you have any hobbies?"

Cameron nodded.

"I like to sail. I took up sailing in college and go out on the water whenever I can."

"I admit that is something I've never done," Candice said. "In case you haven't noticed, we're quite a ways from the ocean."

"You have the river though. Doesn't anyone sail the Ohio?"

Candice laughed.

"My brother does – or at least he tries to. He purchased a small boat last summer and took it out a few times, but he has yet to master the basics. I told him I wouldn't step foot in that thing until he convinced me he wouldn't crash it into a barge."

"If that's the only thing keeping you from the water, then maybe I can help out," Cameron said. "Maybe I can give your brother some pointers."

Candice smiled warmly.

"Maybe you can."

Cameron let the comment simmer for a moment and then turned his attention to his dinner. He didn't know where the evening was going, but he didn't care. He was enjoying the ride. He started to ask Candice about her brother's boat when a man and a woman approached their table.

"Well, now, what a surprise," Richard Paine said. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Coelho. Are you learning a lot about 'the social customs of Indiana'?"

Cameron smiled and laughed to himself. Though he detected a subtle dig in Paine's question, he decided to give the man, whom he barely knew, the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm learning quite a bit, actually," Cameron said. "It's nice to see you again as well."

Richard nodded his approval. After an awkward moment passed, he turned to his companion, a dark-haired beauty who didn't look a day over twenty, and extended an arm toward the table.

"Darling, this is Mr. Coelho, a doctoral student from Providence, Rhode Island. He is in Evansville to learn about our way of life," Richard said. "Mr. Coelho, this is Francine Cooper."

"Hello, Miss Cooper," Cameron said.

"Hello," Francine replied.

Richard directed Francine's attention to the other end of the table. He glared at Candice.

"I believe you know Miss Bell."

"I do. Hello," Francine said in a huffy voice.

"Hi, Francine," Candice said. "I like your dress."

"Thank you."

Cameron didn't know the history of the people around him, but he knew enough to know that they didn't like each other. He could only imagine what Mr. Paine was thinking.

"I must admit I'm surprised to see you," Richard said to Cameron. "I got the impression the other day that your stay here would be a short one."

"It may still be," Cameron said. "I haven't decided when I'll leave. My plans are open-ended."

"I see. Have you enjoyed your stay at the Vanderburgh?"

"I have."

Cameron forced a smile. He wasn't sure he cared for the man with the questions, but he had to admit one thing. Richard Paine had an excellent memory.

"That's nice to hear," Richard said. "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you have many important things to discuss. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Coelho. Goodbye, Miss Bell."

"Goodbye, Richard," Candice said.

Cameron watched the attorney escort his date past several tables. When the two disappeared through the door to the lobby, he returned his attention to someone more important.

"That was interesting," Cameron said. "I sensed some tension between you two."

"There's a lot of tension," Candice replied.

"Why?"

Cameron knew the answer but felt obliged to ask the question. He wasn't quite ready to tell Candice that he had studied her diary, her papers, and her life for several weeks.

"We used to see each other," Candice said. "We were engaged, in fact."

Cameron tilted his head and feigned surprise.

"You were
engaged
?"

Candice nodded.

"I was betrothed to him until February 14. That was the day I looked at a photo of my father, decided that Richard was not the kind of man he would have wanted me to marry, and broke off the engagement. Richard, or Dick, as I sometimes call him, was not pleased."

Cameron fixed his gaze.

"Why did you end the engagement? I know Mr. Paine is kind of stuffy, but he looks like a decent sort."

"Looks can be deceiving," Candice said.

"How so with this guy?"

"I would rather not say."

"I understand," Cameron said. "I didn't mean to pry."

"That's all right. People pry into my life all the time. Richard is just the worst offender," Candice said. "If you don't mind me asking, how did the two of you meet?"

"I met him at the newspaper the day I called you. He and another man stood near the door as I explained the purpose of my visit to Mr. Grant."

"How did he treat you?"

"He treated me well," Cameron said. "Is he normally rude?"

Candice did not answer right away. She instead stabbed her entrée with her fork and cut it into small pieces with precise strokes of her knife.

"No. More often than not, he's polite."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing," Candice said. She paused for a moment, took a breath, and smiled. "We should eat. If we don't, we'll have to stick our supper back in the stove."

Cameron chuckled.

"All right."

"I do have one more question for you though," Candice said.

"Oh? What's that?"

Candice met his gaze.

"Did you mean what you said to Richard?"

"What part?"

"Are your plans here really open-ended?"

"They are. They weren't at first, but they are now," Cameron said. He smiled softly. "I'm in no hurry to leave."

CHAPTER 19: CAMERON

Monday, March 30, 1925

Thirty minutes after picking her up outside her new home on First Street, Cameron tried his best to keep up with the power walker in the green wool dress. When she darted across a street, he darted with her. When she weaved between pedestrians on a sidewalk, he weaved too. He darted, weaved, and constantly moved until he finally stopped and put his hands on his hips.

"Will you slow down?" Cameron asked.

Candice stopped, turned around, and smiled.

"Am I walking too fast, Mr. Coelho?"

Cameron chuckled.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," Candice said. "I'm just long on errands and short on time."

"Perhaps we should do this later."

"No. Let's talk now. We won't have another chance today."

"When do you have to return to work?" Cameron asked.

"Ten."

"What time is it now?"

Candice checked her watch and blushed.

"Ten thirty."

"Then let's go," Cameron said. "I don't want Thad to fire you."

Candice laughed.

"He won't. I bring in too many readers."

Cameron didn't doubt that. Candice had a local following in the tens of thousands and a national following in the hundreds of thousands. If those who read the
Saturday Evening Post
,
LIFE
, and
McClure's
didn't know C.L. Bell's background, they certainly knew her prose.

"Let's go anyway," Cameron said as he rejoined the journalist. "You can tell me all of your sordid secrets on the way to the paper."

"What makes you think I have sordid secrets?"

"I read your column."

Candice smiled.

"You look like the type that would."

Cameron chuckled.

"You would be surprised at the things I've read, Miss Bell."

The two headed northwest on First and slowed their sprint to a stroll. When they reached Main, they crossed the street at Candice's request, turned northeast, and started down a stretch that had become as familiar to Cameron as Thayer Street in Providence or Hope Street in Bristol.

"So what would you like to talk about today?" Candice asked.

"Let's start with the Klan," Cameron said. "I understand it's strong here."

"You understate things."

"What do you mean?"