About That Man (24 page)

“Daisy, maybe this is none of my business,” Bobby began cautiously as he tied up his boat at the dock.

“It's not.”

“But you're crazy in love with the guy,” he continued determinedly.

“I am not.”

“Of course you are.”

“I think I know my own mind, Bobby Spencer.”

“I see the way you look at him. Just as important, I see the way
he
looks at
you,
like he's a little dazed and bewildered. Couldn't you maybe give the guy a break? He's struggling here. He'd just been shot, for goodness' sakes. The proposal was well-intentioned, even if it wasn't all dressed up in pretty words. In fact, I'd say you could trust something spoken under these circumstances a whole lot more than if he'd planned it all out.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. Sometimes the truth was blurted out in moments of stress.

“Think about it,” Bobby urged. “You don't want to throw this opportunity away.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting this might be my last chance to catch a man?” she demanded irritably.

He regarded her with the patient expression that men tended to get when they were at their most patronizing.

“Of course not,” he chided in a tolerant tone. “I'm suggesting that you're inclined to cut off your nose to spite your face, to manufacture reasons not to do something you badly want to do.”

“When I want counseling regarding my love life, I'll get it from someone who doesn't cook for a living.”

Bobby flinched at the scathing description of his gourmet skills, but he stood his ground. “I may be a chef, but I'm also your brother. Nobody understands you the way I do, the way Tucker does. I know that the only thing you've wanted your whole life long is to have a family. Goodness knows, you tried your best to mother the two of us, even though you were barely a year older than Tuck and two years older than me. Seems to me you have a darned fine family right under your nose, if only you're not too stubborn and full of pride to admit it.”

She frowned, not daring to believe that Walker's lukewarm proposal could have been based on genuine emotion rather than duty. “I hate it when you throw logic back in my face.”

“Then forget the logic and listen to your heart. You want to marry him. I know you do. You love him, pure and simple. Don't throw that away. Not many people in this world are willing to tangle with a Spencer for the long haul. We're a daunting bunch.”

She studied his face intently. “Has somebody turned you down?”

“Not lately.”

She thought back to the one love of Bobby's life, at least the only one she knew about. “You're talking about Ann-Marie, aren't you?”

“That's ancient history, and I wasn't really in love with her,” he denied a little too heatedly.

“Could have fooled me and everybody else in Trinity Harbor. I thought you were destined to be together.”

“Well, destiny took a wrong turn and she married somebody else. No big deal.”

Daisy wasn't buying it. It had been a big deal. In fact, she suspected that was why Bobby was so consumed with buying up half the town and getting a five-star rating for his restaurant. He wanted to prove that he was the better man, and he wanted to do it in a way that would be visible to Ann-Marie and her husband, who also happened to be Bobby's one-time best friend and biggest rival.

“You work too hard,” she told him.

He scowled. “How did we get from you and Walker to my work habits?”

“You need to meet somebody new.”

“New people come through the door of the restaurant every single day. Boaters dock at the marina, too. I live my life among strangers.”

“But how many of them do you actually meet? You need a social life. When was the last time you had a real date?”

“Not that long ago,” he said defensively.

“When?” she persisted.

“I went to the VFW dance with Marge Lefkowicz.”

Marge was the hostess at Bobby's restaurant and a long-time friend, not a potential lover. “Correct me if I'm
wrong,” Daisy said, “but wasn't that last fall, and didn't you go as a favor to try to make her boyfriend jealous?”

“Damn but you have a long memory.”

“It serves me well at times like this.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Maybe I'll start looking around for the right woman for you.”

“Don't you dare,” Bobby said, his expression horrified. “I will handle my own love life as I see fit.”

“Then stay out of my relationship with Walker.”

“I thought you said you didn't have one or want one.”

“Oh, go suck an egg,” she snapped, and scrambled out of his boat and onto the dock. Sometimes having brothers was almost as big a trial as being King Spencer's daughter.

W
alker carried the now-sleeping Tommy into Daisy's house, trying not to notice how badly his arm ached. He'd refused the pain pills the doctor had offered, and he suspected he was going to come to regret it.

He glanced around with some trepidation as he entered the brightly lit kitchen, waiting for Daisy to launch into another full-scale attack. He was too exhausted to cope with that right now. In fact, about the only thing that appealed to him was the thought of a steaming hot shower and crawling into bed—hers, if he had his way. Not very likely, he conceded, given the way she'd stormed off earlier.

So far, so good, he thought as he crept through the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He got Tommy into his room and into bed, then went looking for a bottle of aspirin in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Nothing, not so much as a children's strength ibuprofen. He muttered a curse, then stepped into the hall and right into Daisy's path.

“Looking for these?” she inquired mildly, holding up a bottle of extra-strength painkillers in one hand and peroxide in the other.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said, studying her warily.
There was a gleam in her eyes he didn't like one bit. He held out his hand for the supplies.

“Oh, no,” she said, shooing him toward his room. “I intend to take a look at that wound.” Her chin shot up. “And if I don't like what I see, I'm calling the doctor.”

“I've already been seen by a doctor, thank you very much.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Let me see.”

He displayed the bandage, amused by her obvious disappointment. “You were really looking forward to dousing me with that peroxide, weren't you?”

“As a matter of fact, I was.”

“Not feeling particularly compassionate?”

“Nope.”

He searched her face for a clue about what was really going on in that complicated mind of hers. “I didn't intentionally put Tommy in danger, you know.”

Shock spread across her face. “Of course you didn't. I know that. If anything, it was my fault for allowing him to sneak out of the house.”

Walker sighed. “Nevertheless, I thought you might be thinking of using what happened tonight to go running off to Frances and stake your own claim for custody.”

“Don't be absurd. I hate it when people use children as a pawn in their own fights. Tommy's your nephew, and it's clear that you love him and that you're ready to be a father to him. I've accepted that.”

“A boy needs a mother, too,” he said cautiously.

Her hand shook as she handed him the aspirin and a glass of water. “I'm not discussing that with you.”

“I think you got the wrong impression earlier.”

“You have no idea what impression I got,” she
retorted. “I'm not marrying you, Walker Ames, and that's that.”

She turned her attention to the kitchen counter, which she began scrubbing with a vengeance. Walker snagged her hand, noting the alarm that flared in her eyes.

“This thing between us isn't over just because you say so,” he said softly.

“There is nothing between us,” she stated firmly, though she wasn't able to control the patches of color that rose in her cheeks.

“I say there is.” He ran the pad of his thumb along her jaw and saw that telltale color heighten. “And it's just getting started.”

She took a determined step away from him. “Talking won't make it so, Walker.” She picked up that sponge and attacked the counter again, then started snatching dishes out of the dishwasher and slamming them back into the cupboards with so much force, he was surprised they didn't shatter.

“How was the dinner with the Finches?” he asked, hoping the neutral topic would settle her down. They hadn't had time to talk about it earlier when he'd stopped by for a quick visit with Tommy before going out on the river.

She stilled. Her expression turned thoughtful as she faced him. “Weird, as a matter of fact. She's uptight, and he's not very friendly. Frankly, I'm surprised they even accepted the invitation.”

“Maybe they did it for Gary's sake.”

“Maybe. Tommy invited Gary to spend the night, but his father refused to give him permission. Gary looked as if that was what he'd expected. I've never seen a boy his age look so…I don't know…defeated, I guess.”

Walker regretted that he hadn't been there to pick up on the vibes for himself. “Abuse?” he asked, thinking out loud.

Daisy looked stricken. “I never thought of that. I've read about the way abuse victims behave sometimes, but I've never seen it. Maybe that's it. Or maybe Paul Finch is just a strict disciplinarian.”

“Maybe,” Walker agreed, but he vowed to spend a little more time with Gary and his dad to see if he could get a sense of what was going on there.

“You look exhausted,” Daisy said. “Why don't you go on up to your old room and get some sleep?”

“You want me to stay here? Isn't that a bad idea under the circumstances?”

“It's for one night, and if anybody wants to make something of it, I'll remind them you were shot tonight and somebody had to look after you.”

“Does that mean you're going to come upstairs and play nurse?” he inquired, grinning at her.

She frowned at the teasing. “Don't count on it, Detective.”

He made his way to the stairs, then turned back to find her staring after him. “You might be surprised to discover what I'm counting on, Daisy Spencer.”

 

“He's driving me crazy,” Daisy announced to Anna-Louise the next afternoon when she dropped by the parsonage on her way home from work. She needed some of her friend's calming chamomile tea and sensible advice.

“What else is new?” Anna-Louise inquired, her eyes flashing with amusement.

“Even with everything that's going on, I let him stay at the house last night,” she admitted. “I couldn't stand the thought of sending him away with an injured arm.”

“Of course not.”

“That has to be the last time, though.”

“I'm sure he doesn't expect to keep staying there. He understands what's at stake. If he doesn't, I'm sure King and your brothers will be happy to remind him.”

“I don't think they'll help,” Daisy said ruefully. “They seem to have gotten the insane idea that he's right, that I should marry him.”

“It would solve a number of problems,” Anna-Louise pointed out.

“Now there's a romantic prospect. Marry the man because it'll put an end to a few pesky little problems.” Daisy scowled. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course. And being on the brink of being fired is hardly a ‘pesky little problem.' You have to start taking it seriously, Daisy. Your principal certainly isn't being any help. And King's intimidation tactics can only go so far. I hate to think what would happen if Richard got wind of that.” She shuddered.

“Got wind of what?” her journalist husband inquired, suddenly appearing in the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Anna-Louise said. “Anything you hear in this room, in this house, out of my mouth, ever, is confidential. Not for publication. Not for attribution.”

He grinned. “I get your drift,” he said as he bent down to kiss her.

Anna-Louise nodded. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“So what did King do?” he asked.

“You were eavesdropping,” Anna-Louise accused.

“I was coming into my own kitchen to get a glass of iced tea. This isn't the sacred confessional,” he protested.

“Our church doesn't have confessionals. Sometimes my kitchen serves the same purpose. Remember that.”

“Duly noted,” he said as he poured his tea. “What did King do?”

Anna-Louise regarded her husband with a frown, then turned to Daisy. “Sometimes living with a journalist isn't easy. They're annoyingly persistent.”

“About King?” Richard prodded.

“Oh, for heaven's sakes,” Daisy said. “Just tell him. He won't publish it. I trust him.”

“Thank you,” Richard said. “It's a terrible thing when a wife doubts her own husband's integrity.”

“I don't doubt it. I just don't care to test it by putting too much temptation in your path.” Her gaze narrowed. “If I do tell you, will you also promise not to go running around to other sources to try to confirm it by some other means that leaves me out of it? Trinity Harbor is not Washington. It is not one of those war-torn countries you covered.”

She glanced at Daisy and explained, “Once a big-shot investigative reporter, always an investigative reporter. A whiff of scandal brings out his training and his competitive spirit. He can't help it.”

Richard's eyes lit up. “This secret is that good?” He began edging to the door. “Maybe I'll just start making a few calls.”

“Freeze,” Anna-Louise ordered. “Don't you dare.”

He grinned. “Okay.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “What's the scoop?”

It was Daisy who finally spilled the beans. “Daddy used his clout to get the school board to get off my case,” she explained. Richard was going to find out the story one way or another. It might as well be from her.

Besides, she did trust him. Richard had proved himself
to be an honorable journalist since coming to town. Though he didn't back down from controversy, he didn't print stories just to stir things up so he could see how the dust settled. In fact, maybe she could use all of this to get him solidly into her corner if it came to a showdown with the board.

“No surprise there,” Richard said. “Wouldn't have expected him to do anything else.”

“No indignation about public officials caving in to the demands of a wealthy citizen?” Anna-Louise asked, clearly taken aback by his response.

“Seems to me they're caving in to the demands of common sense,” Richard retorted. “This whole thing is a tempest in a teapot. Teachers are human beings. They are entitled to a private life. As long as they're not breaking any laws, what business is it of mine or anyone else's?”

“Sounds like a good editorial to me,” Anna-Louise said approvingly.

“And maybe a Sunday sermon?” he asked.

“Could be,” she agreed, her expression thoughtful.

Daisy felt tears clogging the back of her throat. She had come here for moral support, not public backing. “You don't have to do that.”

“This whole thing has gotten wildly out of hand. I think we do need to stand up and be counted,” Anna-Louise said slowly, then gave her a pointed look. “Which is not to say that I don't think you ought to consider Walker's proposal.”

“Walker proposed?” Richard asked, eyebrows raised. “And you said no?”

“Emphatically,” Daisy said.

Richard shook his head. “If I live to be a hundred, I will
never understand women.” He stood up, kissed his wife soundly and added, “Except you, of course.”

She grinned. “Of course.”

After he'd gone, Daisy regarded Anna-Louise wistfully. “I want what the two of you have.”

“We didn't have it when we met,” Anna-Louise told her. “It took time. There were a good many disagreements along the way, but we worked at it.”

“And you love each other.”

“So do you and Walker,” the minister pointed out. “There's not a doubt in my mind about that.”

“I wish I were as sure as you are.”

“Sometimes believing in love is like believing in God. You just have to take it on faith.”

Daisy thought long and hard about that over the next few days. Did she have enough faith in Walker's professed feelings—or her own for that matter—to take the gigantic leap into marriage? What if he changed his mind once he found out about her infertility? That was a topic that needed to be put on the table before things went any further. She wanted to believe it wouldn't matter, but she didn't know that.

And until she did, there was no way she would commit to him forever, not even to save her job or to keep Tommy in her life.

 

“How are you doing courting Daisy?” Tucker inquired as he and Walker sat in the sheriff's office late one Friday evening.

They'd been discussing the drug case ad nauseam, but to no avail. Obviously Tucker thought a change of topic was warranted. Walker would have preferred a shift to
baseball, but he knew Daisy's brother wouldn't let him get away with that.

“I'm spending my nights here with you, down at the marina or out on the river,” Walker grumbled. “How do you think I'm doing?”

There was a sharp knock on the door, followed by the appearance of Andy Thorensen. His Friday night visits had become a regular thing in recent weeks. Walker greeted his appearance with relief, even though Andy didn't look much happier than Walker felt at the moment.

“I left my wife with Daisy. They're talking window treatments for the store,” Andy said with a shudder. “Can the two of you save me?”

“We were talking about courting,” Tucker said.

Andy groaned. “Doesn't anybody talk about crime anymore?”

Walker chuckled. “I, for one, would be glad to talk about crime.”

Andy turned to him eagerly. “How's the drug case going?”

For the next hour they shared information, speculation and theories. Walker was thoroughly frustrated by their inability to locate the boat from which the shots had been fired at him that night. The trouble was, he hadn't seen any of the registration numbers, or even if there had been any. The boat hadn't been distinctive in any way. There were probably a hundred or more on the local inlets and creeks that were almost exactly like it, trawlers used by weekenders for fishing.

“Have you tried the process of elimination?” Andy asked. “Making a list of every registered boat you see, then looking into the owner's background.”

“It would take forever,” Tucker said succinctly.