Here Comes Trouble (17 page)

When she arrived at the Gregory's, she grabbed
Tramp's leash in one hand and a suitcase in the
other and waggled it to the door while Tramp's
tail wagged in excitement. Settling the suitcase on the porch, she tapped a swift rap on the etchedglass door. A man's silhouette appeared and her
heart began doing flip-flops. Soon now, she'd
know one way or the other how Quin felt about
her, about them.

When the door opened, though, she was disappointed. She hadn't expected Quin's dad to answer. "Hi. Is Quin home?"

Her voice came out raspy, reedy, but he didn't
seem to notice. "Sorry, Stella. You just missed
him."

"I missed him?" She wasn't going to cry and
she wasn't going to give up. If she had to, she'd
chase him all the way to Hong Kong. "How long
ago did he leave?"

He consulted his watch. "About fifteen, twenty
minutes."

"Do you know where he went?"

"To the airport."

"I mean where he's flying to?"

"I think he said New York."

Stella bit her upper lip. She'd missed Quin, all
because she couldn't face her own image and get
out of the blasted shower. Taking a deep breath,
she stiffened her spine. She'd just head for the Big
Apple. Surely she could find him in a sea of what,
seven million people?

"Do you have an address for him?"

"Maybe you could come back later and ask
Debby. She's got all his information."

His answer filled her with depression. She was
a total fool. Once she controlled her emotions, she
caught Mayor Gregory eyeing her suitcase and realized how bad it looked. She couldn't bear the
idea of the whole town pitying her. It had been
bad enough after her broken engagement. She
couldn't take it again, not when she felt so lost
and splintered.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone I
was here. Okay?"

Giving her a kind smile, he replied, "Mum's the
word."

Mayor Gregory was not the gossip his wife was
and she knew she could trust his word. With as
much dignity as she could muster, she murmured
her thanks, then walked Tramp back to the car.

Feeling as if she'd been knocked down by a
wrecking ball, she slowly drove toward home.
Tramp whined, then settled down on the passenger
seat.

He'd left. Quin had left her behind.

An idea came to her. It was probably absurd,
but it was a chance. Turning the corner with both
hands on the wheel, the car came up on two
wheels then came back to earth with a thud. There
was a chance she could catch him at the airport.

Roaring onto Cait's street, she stomped on the brake with both feet making the tires screech in
protest. Was that Quin's rental car parked in front
of Cait's home? Maybe he'd stopped there first to
say farewell?

Stella sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then
threw the car into park, heedless of the fact it was
in the middle of the street blocking traffic. Tramp
followed her out of the car in a bound and they
both dashed up to bang on Cait's door.

Once Cait opened the door and admitted Stella,
she couldn't relax until she saw Quin's face. "Is
he here?"

Cait, with a knowing smile, nodded. She led
Stella and Tramp into the living room.

She saw him before she entered the room. He
looked scrumptious. Her desperation lightened, as
if ten tons had been lifted off her heart. He hadn't
left.

"I'm glad you're here, Stella," he told her with
a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "It seems we've
been the victims of malicious gossip."

She looked at him, wondering what he was talking about, while Tramp jumped up on two legs
and gave Quin a lick on the face. She resisted an
urge to follow suit.

Quin told the dog to sit and gave him a pat. "It
appears that TROUBLE, as well as each of us, has
been had."

"We've been had?" Stella twisted her hands, wanting to drag him out of there so she could
throw herself at him in relative privacy.

"I take it you aren't the bestselling novelist,
Constance Howard, are you?"

"No." What on earth was he talking about?
Couldn't he tell that she wanted to get him alone?
She held up her thumb and pointed to the door
with it, but Quin ignored her gesture.

"You've never heard of Doc Danger?"

"Is he the guy you asked me about before?"

Quin nodded.

"He's a total mystery to me." Again she gestured that she wanted to talk with him, and again
he ignored it.

"Here's the latest rumor-that you write the
Home Gardener column for Better Gardens. Is that
true?"

"Yes, it's true. Quin, I want to talk with you-"

"You don't work for the government doing topsecret scientific research?"

She shook her head. He was going somewhere
with this and Stella only wished she knew what
he was trying to say because all she could think
about was throwing her arms around him. She really didn't want to do it in front of an audience,
but if he didn't hurry up and take the hint, she'd
throw caution, and herself, to the wind.

"And you didn't catch Poindexter in your wedding veil?"

"Good heavens, no!"

"It appears you're right, Cait," he said, turning
to address her. "Whoever has been doing this gossiping must be stopped."

The Troublemakers began to chatter simultaneously while Quin winked at Stella over their heads.
She wasn't quite clear about what had been going
on, but she was relieved to have missed it. Now
all she had to do was tell him she'd die if he left
without her.

"When's your flight leave, Quin?" she asked in
a voice loud enough to be heard over the din.

Everyone grew silent and waited for his answer.

"I can't get away as quickly as I'd thought," he
replied. "I've got a couple of loose ends to wrap
up.

And then the smile he gave her sent the blood
coursing through her veins faster than any speeding bullet. It was going to be okay. He still loved
her. That was all she needed to know.

"Okay. Will I see you later?"

"You bet. I'll be over around five o'clock or
so?"

Stella smiled. "Fine. Tramp and I'll be waiting
for you."

With a light step, she left Cait's house to find
Brendan McCade's patrol car parked behind hers
in the middle of the street. "I'm moving it now, Brendan," she cried as she dashed to her vehicle,
Tramp running along with her.

Brendan grinned. "Wouldn't have given you a
ticket, anyway. Just get it out of the street."

"Thanks!" Stella waved at him as soon as she
and Tramp were seated. She pulled off down the
street. Suddenly life didn't seem quite so dismal
as it had that morning. Turning the rearview mirror
so she could look at her reflection, she decided she
looked darn good in bags.

As soon as Stella left, the women descended on
Quin like buzzards, but he was getting used to it.
They didn't intimidate him at all this time.

"But what about the reunion?" asked Cait. "It's
tonight, you know."

Quin gave her a reassuring smile. "This time,
I'm certain I've got it covered."

Five o'clock seemed to take forever to roll
around. Stella gave up pacing and had taken to
brushing Tramp for as long as he'd sit still for it.

Fortunately, the hellhound seemed to like being
brushed. Also fortunate, some of his hair had begun coming back in, leaving him looking a bit less
like pink scar tissue and more like a lapdog with
five o'clock shadow.

Promptly at five, Tramp rushed to the front door
and Stella sprinted behind him. When she threw open the door, Quin stood there with an irresistible
slug slime grin on his face and she knew instantly
he was up to mischief. He held two brown paper
grocery bags in his tuxedo-clad arms.

She'd totally forgotten! The reunion was tonight.

Handing her one of the bags, he knelt to give
Tramp a head scratch, then came in the house
treading perkiness and cheer behind him. Stella
narrowed her eyes at him. He was definitely up to
something.

Tagging along behind them, she closed the
door, then peeked into the sack. It looked as if all
it contained was wadded up clothing. "What are
you up to?"

With twinkling eyes, he dropped his bag on the
kitchen table and began unloading it. "I brought
you something, Stell."

Looking at the wad of shirts in his arms, she
was totally nonplused. "Dirty clothing?"

"Yeah, gossip has it you like doing laundry."
The twinkle in his eyes became a loving caress.
Pulling a small white box with red lettering from
the bottom of the sack, he handed it to her.

Slug Slammer: Slams Snails Dead. "Oh, Quin.
You shouldn't have!" She felt all warm and glowy
inside. The man had to love her if he was worried
about the slugs in her garden.

"The laundry's for you too," he said. "I have to
warn you, though, about some of my bad habits."

Stella leaned back against the door frame, waiting for him to go on, Slug Slammer in one of her
hands and the other still holding his second paper
sack. When he was in one of these moods, she
knew she couldn't rush him. "I thought you were
perfect. You can't seriously mean you have any
bad habits?"

"I sometimes forget to put my dirty clothes in
the laundry bag. I've been known to drop wet towels on my bed. And worst of all, according to my
mother, I forget to empty my pockets."

What was he trying to tell her?

He sighed ruefully as he nodded toward the sack
she still held in her arms. "You'll have to look
through each and every pocket before loading
those in the washer, I'm afraid."

He was telling her to look through his pockets.
Stella poured the bag of clothing onto the kitchen
table and frantically patted each item until at last
she felt something in one of the jeans pockets.
Reaching her hand in, her fingers closed on a
small, velvety box. A ring box?

She couldn't move. Couldn't bring herself to
pull it out of the pocket. A tear dripped down her
face and Quin took a step nearer to her, then another step, until he bundled her into his arms.

She couldn't stop the downpour now but he held her tightly making soft comforting noises and rubbing her hair and the back of her head.

"I'm going to ruin your tux."

Quin shrugged. "It's a rental. Aren't you going
to open the box?"

Stella shook her head. "I don't think I can."

Quin released her long enough to slide the box
from beneath her shaking fingers. Pulling back the
lid, he revealed the most perfect diamond ring
she'd ever seen in her life.

"If this means you want to marry me, Quin,"
Stella said between sobs, "the answer is yes. I'll
go anywhere you want me to, just as long as you
let me stay right by your side."

"Oh, Stella." He pulled her tightly into his arms
as if he'd never let her go. "I've got some news
to share with you. I hope you won't be disappointed if we have to delay that travel I promised
you."

"Delay?"

"I talked with my boss. You're holding the new
editor of the Midwest region of the magazine.
Other than the very rare assignment, I don't have
to leave Littlemouth."

"And when you do, I'll be right by your side. I
want to see the world through your eyes."

"I love you, Stella. Wherever you are, there's
always excitement. You're my home." Quin
slipped the ring over her finger where it sparkled as brightly as the love in his eyes. "And best of
all ..."

She placed her palm over the acorn hanging
from his neck. "There's no place like home?"

"No, Stella." He laughed. "Best of all, since
we're engaged, now you'll have to go to the reunion with me. The whole town would be up in
arms otherwise."

Stella grabbed the dirty clothes off the table and
threw them over his head. "I'll go change. Don't
you dare leave without me."

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The weather
had cooperated, with endless blue skies and only
a few white wispy clouds flittering across the wide
Kansas panorama. The temperature was warm
without being hot, breezy without being windy.
Absolute perfection, in fact.

For the Troublemakers, Mother's Day was an
especially important event. Celebrating it with a
wedding made it even more perfect.

Stella's yard had been beautifully decorated. All
the flowers she'd planted were in bloom and Prissy
had added a profusion of yellow carnations anywhere she could find a vacant spot. Bright lemonhued bows had been tied on each of the rental chairs lined up in a row facing the huge old oak
tree.

A stark white canopy covered a small dais
where the groom anxiously awaited his bride.
Three musicians sat near the back door playing
chamber music on their stringed instruments.

Brendan McCade, looking as good in a tuxedo
as he did in uniform, had agreed to serve as usher.
He'd only been a little nonplused when the Troublemakers insisted upon sitting together on the
front row of chairs.