Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You (v1.2) (35 page)

“Killed? Killed the
mayor?
Old lady Brobst?” George’s face went white, then beet red. He threw back his head and laughed, looked at Shelby, and laughed some more. He pulled a large blue and white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his streaming eyes. “Wow. That’s some head stuff, isn’t it? Like, you know, a shock treatment, to take my mind off the speech? Thanks, ma’am. I feel lots better now. Kill the mayor,” he repeated, shaking his head as he walked away. “Man, if that don’t beat the Dutch.”

Shelby smiled after him wanly, then took a moment to visit the ladies’ room, repair her makeup, and gather herself. Okay, she thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t George or the regulars. If he laughed that hard at her suggestion that he might have been plotting murder, she really didn’t have to ask the second question, whether the regulars had been behind the letter, the kidnap attempt.

Which, no matter how many times she thought about it or, as Tony would say, no matter how she sliced it, ended up with Quinn Delaney being the only other person who could possibly gain anything by frightening her into leaving East Wapaneken, going home, and allowing him to get back to what had to be much more interesting projects.

Because it couldn’t have been Somerton. He loved her too much to scare her that way, no matter how desperately he might want her to come home.

And it couldn’t be Parker, because he obviously didn’t care enough to scare her into coming home.

About damn time.

Oh, yes, those men knew Quinn, recognized him. Recognized him because he had hired them, set them on her so that he could do his Sir Galahad impersonation. Get into her life. Get into her bed. Get her out of town.

“No,” Shelby told her reflection, her voice small and uncertain. “No,” she said again, straightening her spine, putting more conviction into her voice. “No, no,
no.
I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it.”

She pressed her hands against the front edge of the sink and leaned forward to look deeply into her own eyes. “You’ve never had to think for yourself in your entire life, Shelby Taite. Never had to trust your own instincts, make your own way, sleep in a bed you’d made for yourself— and that’s both literally and figuratively, by the way.”

She raised her hands to her collar, smoothed her neckline, turned left, then right, examining her appearance. “You sure
look
grown-up. Isn’t it about time you
acted
it? Isn’t it about time you stopped looking for ulterior motives and just accepted the fact that maybe you made a few mistakes, that he made a few mistakes, but that you love each other? You really,
really
love each other? Or are you going to spend the rest of your life being a jerk? That’s what Brandy thinks you are, you know. A jerk. Looking too deep, thinking too much, and not listening to your heart. You know your heart, Shelby—that part of you that probably didn’t really exist until you hopped a bus to reality.”

Smoothing back her hair, she took a deep breath and allowed it to ooze out of her slowly, taking with it the last of her worries. “And you know what, lady?” she ended, grinning at herself. “He didn’t do it. He did… not… do… it. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Not anymore. And I don’t care who did do it. It’s just not important. Not anymore.
So
there!”

She saluted her reflection, smiled as her heart and her mind finally ended their battle—it wasn’t everyone who came to a great epiphany in a ladies’ rest room in East Wapaneken—and pushed open the door to the hallway, feeling certain about her feelings for the first time in ages. Maybe for the first time in her life.

Bettyann Fink stood just outside the door, watching Shelby as she walked out, but not entering the rest room herself. “Wasn’t there someone else in there with you, dearie?” she asked quizzically. “I heard voices.”

Shelby blushed, feeling the heat rush into her cheeks. “I was talking to myself, Mrs. Fink,” she admitted, shamefaced.

“That’s all right then,” Bettyann Fink said, nodding her head. “Do that myself all the time. Especially when I’m talking to Amelia, which is pretty much the same thing. Lovely evening, dearie. We’re certainly enjoying the music.”

“That’s nice, Mrs. Fink,” Shelby said, then quickly made her getaway, just in time to cover her ears as George tapped the microphone and an earsplitting screech of feedback filled the room.

She stood at the entrance to the hallway, not wanting to cross the restaurant while George was speaking, and watched Quinn as he stood next to the cash register, looking at her, his dark eyes clouded with worry.

She smiled and threw him a kiss. Felt her heart wing across the room with that kiss.

I love you,
Quinn mouthed to her as Francis volunteered to fix the microphone.
Marry me.

Shelby nodded, blinking back tears, and George began to speak.

The poor man was drenched in sweat, his hands shaking so badly the index cards fluttered, his voice rather high and tight as he offered nervously, “Testing, testing,” then cleared his throat and wiped his perspiration-dotted brow.

There was a slight shuffling of chairs, a murmur of voices, a giggle or two, most probably at poor George’s expense. And then his voice got stronger, and he started again, and the room went silent except for the sound of this one man’s voice. The voice of a generation, saying what had to be said.

George read the names of those who’d served, of those who’d died. Quinn had inserted most of the regulars’ original notes into the speech just as they had written them; simple, stark, so emotionally devastating in that simplicity.

All around the room, men and women resorted to handkerchiefs, wiping away tears without thought, without shame. Yes, this was a party of sorts, but it was also a celebration of heroism, a dedication to remembering, a promise to remember always.

“So that’s it,” George said, concluding his speech. “That’s why we’re all here tonight. Older, maybe wiser, and with a debt still to pay to those who didn’t get the chance to get older, wiser. To remember those who didn’t get the chance to marry, to hold a woman in their arms, to see their kids grow up, to watch the ball games, drink a few cold ones in the park during Community Days… or be able to say good-bye to those they loved when the time came for good-byes.

“Theirs was the ultimate sacrifice, one we, the lucky ones, may still not comprehend. They deserve our respect, our honor. They deserve to have their names displayed here, in their hometown, for generations to come, generations who, God willing, will never have to know such a terrible war. So thank you, boys, all of you who are here tonight. And thank you, Billy… Chad… Tommy… John ny… Dougie… A.J.  We didn’t forget. We’ll
never
forget.

There was silence, complete and utter, for several seconds. Then Quinn stepped forward from the cash register and began to clap. Slowly everyone in the restaurant stood up and added their hands to the tribute, until everyone was standing, everyone was clapping.

Tony stood outside the kitchen with his cooks, his long arms draped over Julio, over Stan.

Francis and Joseph hugged each other.

George rejoined the rest of the regulars, and they all stood, red-faced and embarrassed to be the center of attention, yet standing tall, proud, medals pinned to their suits because their uniforms had been long outgrown.

And everyone cried.

It was beautiful, Shelby thought. Just the most beautiful thing she’d ever witnessed.

She used her knuckles to wipe at the tears on her cheeks, until Uncle Alfred handed her his handkerchief. “I don’t remember when I have ever been so moved,” he said, then reached into his pocket. “Here, Shelby. My poker winnings from last night. See that they get to the proper party, all right? And Shelby? You were right to do this. I’m proud of you, my darling. Very, very proud.”

Shelby nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “Quinn wrote the speech,” she told her uncle, standing on tiptoe to try to spot him over the crowd. “He did a fine job, didn’t he? Can you see him? Where is he? I need to talk to him.”

Uncle Alfred kissed her cheek. “Only talk to him, my dear? I think, as a Taite, you’re capable of much more than that. Now go on; I’ll handle things here. I’ll just go mingle with the clientele, see if I can prod anything else out of their pockets now that George has softened them up.”

“Thank you, Uncle Alfred. Thank you so much,” Shelby said, hugging him.

He returned her hug. “Now, isn’t this nice? What are you thank ing me for?”

Shelby pulled back, but kept her arms around him. “For so many things,” she said, blinking back new tears. “For having helped create me, as you’ve called it. For telling me about your adventures. For all but daring me to go out, try my wings, not just
settle.
Without you, none of this would have happened. Quinn wouldn’t have happened.
I
wouldn’t have happened. I would have just been Shelby Taite, empty shell. Now…” She hesitated, smiled. “Now I feel like a whole person, my own person. Oh, Uncle Alfred, I do love you so.”

She hugged him again, then turned and made her way through the crowded tables, still on the hunt for Quinn. She was stopped several times, to be thanked, to be hugged, to be kissed by Mayor Brobst, who then bellowed in her ear for a good two minutes.

He saw her coming, watched her slow, happy progress just as he had watched her talking with Al, hugging Al. How had he ever thought her to be a cold fish, just another of the Rich and Repulsive he’d lumped into one big group, never taking the time to realize that each person deserved to be judged on his own merits and not just categorized by the number of zeros in his bank balance.

“Quinn!” she said at last, holding out her hand to him so that he could draw her through the last of the crowd, pull her into the entryway. “We have to talk.”

He had once dreaded hearing those words, had dreaded saying them. Now he wanted nothing more than to talk to her, to listen to what she had to say. He pushed open the door and led her outside, around to the side of the building. “Can we kiss first?” he asked, backing her up against the stuccoed wall, leaning a hand on either side of her head, taking the world and reducing it to just the two of them. Just here. Just now.

“No, we can’t,” Shelby said, but she smiled as she said it. Smiled with her mouth, smiled with those big brown eyes that were full of love, tinged with mischief. “First, I love you, Quinn Delaney. I love you with all my heart and will love you forever.”

Quinn grinned and leaned closer, damn near leering at her. “And I love you with all my heart. Forever.
Now
can we kiss?”

She pushed him away.
“Second,
I want to tell you that I didn’t know. Not at first, not for a long time. I’m so bad with names, and I don’t think I ever
really
looked at your face.”

“I know. I’m a rat. You’ve already told me that one. But you weren’t supposed to see me. I was only here to watch you, that’s all, make sure Somerton’s baby sister didn’t get herself in trouble. But I walked into Tony’s, and there you were. You looked right at me, didn’t recognize me. I have to tell you, Shelby, that had me mad. Damn mad. I thought I was more memorable than that.”

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “And you are; you are. I can imagine how angry you were when I didn’t remember you.”

“No, you can’t.” If she wasn’t going to let him kiss her, he had time to tell her the whole of it. “I don’t like the rich, Shelby. Never have. I took one incident in my life and allowed it to prejudice me against an entire class of people—except Grady, my partner, but nobody can help liking him. I even set out to romance you, to give the little rich girl the adventure she seemed to want.”

He sighed and shook his head. “But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it. I was too busy falling in love with you.”

Shelby blinked back tears. “Oh, Quinn, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Nice? You sure do have your own way of looking at things, don’t you, sweetheart? But wait, there’s more.”

“Yes, there is. My one regret, I suppose. I wanted to do something on my own, be responsible for myself for the first time in my life. But I was never out on my own, was I, Quinn? You were there almost from the beginning. Somerton’s safety net. That’s why he didn’t just come and get me, because you were watching me. Baby-sitting me.”

Quinn had thought as much. He bent his head, kissed her forehead. “Shelby, you got here on your own. You got yourself a job. More, you
kept
that job, made a real success of it. My God, look what you’ve done for this town. Did you ever see so many people hugging each other, feeling good about themselves, doing good for their community? You went with your strengths, and those were your ability to organize people, put on a grand party—and to see nothing but the best in people. You know, there aren’t a lot of Main Line heiresses who’d even
look
at the regulars, let alone do what you did.”

Now Shelby really did cry, her chin trembling, her tears hot on her cheeks. “I never thought of it that way…”

“Well, you should. You’re just about the kindest, most loving, accepting,
extraordinary
woman I’ve ever met. No, scratch that. You
are
the kindest, most loving, accepting, extraordinary person I have ever met.” He smiled, tried to lighten the mood. “Even if you can’t remember anyone’s name.”

Shelby laughed weakly; then a thought entered her brain and stuck there. Something Quinn had said earlier. “You don’t like rich people? How rich would that be, Quinn?”

“I told you, I’m over that. I’ve kicked myself about my stupidity for about a week now.” Then he grinned. “How rich are you, anyway?”

She avoided his eyes. “Pretty rich,” she admitted. “And it does still bother you, doesn’t it? I mean, I used to think about men wanting to marry me for my money, but I never thought about a man
not
wanting to marry me because I have money. Until I marry, or when I’m a bit older, I just receive an allowance from the income, but then I get the whole amount to use as I wish. Is this really going to be a problem for you? If it is, I suppose I could refuse to accept the inheritance.”