That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) (3 page)

Her fingers were trembling by the time she pulled into the parking lot at the school. If the meeting had gone poorly, it was her fault. She should have left her opinions out of it. Everything had been fine until she’d impulsively overstepped the boundary.

Looking at Grady Jones was like looking at her father. Not that there was any striking physical resemblance. Her father had died when Cathy was sixteen, yet she hardly remembered his physical features. She had a vague image of a tall, lanky man who drifted in and out of her life at inconvenient intervals. Donald Thompson had been a workaholic. Her mother had recognized and accepted the fact long before his death. And in reality little had changed in their lives after he was gone. He was so seldom home for any lengthy period of time that life went on as it had in the past.

Grady Jones showed all the symptoms. He was never home when she phoned, no matter how late. He worked himself hard and probably expected as much from those he employed. The lines of fatigue had fanned out from his eyes as if it had been a long time since he’d seen a bed. If he continued as he was, he’d probably end up like her father. Dead at fifty-five. Why the fact should bother her, Cathy wasn’t sure. Personally, she didn’t care for the man. Striking good looks didn’t disguise the fact he was ambitious, selfish, and hard-nosed. She preferred a man who was kind, sincere, gentle. A man like— Her mind stopped before the name could form.

“You’re back already?” Linda greeted her as she stepped into the school. “That didn’t take long.”

“I didn’t imagine it would,” Cathy said, the inflection in her tone voicing her sentiment. “Grady Jones is a busy man.”

Linda nodded knowingly. “Relax a minute. There’s no need to hurry back, Tom’s taking
over for you. I bet you didn’t eat lunch.”

“No,” Cathy admitted, “I haven’t.”

“I could use a break myself. I’ll come with you.” A smile formed in Linda’s large brown eyes. The two women had been instant friends. Although they’d met only two months before, it was as if they had known each other for years. The contrast between them was impressive. Linda was barely five feet tall, a cute, doe-eyed pixie. Her laughter was easy, her nature gentle. Linda had met her husband, Dan, through the personal column, naturally, and they had been happily married for seven years. The only gray cloud that hung over her friend’s head was that Linda desperately wanted children. The doctors had repeatedly assured them there was nothing wrong and that eventually Linda would become pregnant. Once Cathy had overheard someone ask Linda how many children she had. Without so much as blinking, Linda had looked up and replied three hundred. By all accounts she wasn’t wrong. As the school secretary, Linda did more mothering in one day than some mothers did all year.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Linda asked, as she sat at the table they had occupied that morning.

Cathy took the sandwich from the bag she’d brought with her that morning, examining its contents as if she had forgotten it was bologna and cheese. She knew that one look at her face and Linda knew everything had not gone as she’d wanted. “I blew it, plain and simple.”

“He agreed to the tests, didn’t he?”

Miserably, she nodded, shoving the bread back inside the brown paper sack. “He agreed to the tests, more or less, but I may have alienated him forever. I think it would be best if any future communication with Grady Jones were handled by mail.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. If he agreed to having Angela tested, you succeeded.” The bell rang and students began shuffling out of their classrooms, jerking Linda’s attention. “I better get back. Oh, by the way, I mailed your envelope.”

“Great.” Cathy’s reply lacked enthusiasm. What kind of man did she ever expect to find through the personals?

* * *

Cathy spent Monday afternoon with Angela Jones. The child invoked a protective response in
her. She was small for her age, her blue eyes as large and trusting as a baby seal’s. She followed the directions carefully, doing everything that was asked of her.

“You were very good, Angela.” Cathy playfully tugged a long brown pigtail.

“Daddy said I should be,” she replied shyly, her eyes not meeting Cathy’s. “You’ll tell him I was, won’t you?”

Cathy didn’t have the heart to tell the little girl that she doubted she’d ever see her father again. “When I see your father, I’ll tell him you were one of the very best.”

Angela smiled, revealing that her two front teeth were missing. Cathy couldn’t remember ever having seen the child smile. It was the memory of that toothless grin that buoyed her spirits as Cathy stopped in at the grocery store for a few items Monday after school. The store was directly beside the post office, which made it convenient if she needed anything. She was sorting through her bills when the boldfaced handwriting stared up at her. She nearly missed a step as she stopped cold. The envelope was addressed to
Snoopy.

Cathy glanced at her watch as she slid across the red upholstered booth in the restaurant. Eight-fifteen. Because her watch was thirteen minutes fast she realized she was almost a half-hour early. The letter had said eight-thirty.

A waitress came with a glass of water and a menu. “I’m waiting for someone,” Cathy told her hesitantly. “I’ll just have coffee until my … my friend arrives.”

“Sure,” the woman said with a distracted smile.

Cathy had chosen to sit in the booth that was positioned so she could watch whoever entered the restaurant. At least that way she would recognize him the minute he walked in the door. His letter said he’d be wearing a red scarf. With unsteady fingers she opened the clasp of her purse and removed the letter. She must have read it thirty times, not sure what she expected to find. There didn’t seem to be any unspoken messages or sexual overtones. The whole idea of meeting a total stranger was absurd. At least he’d suggested a public place. If he hadn’t she wouldn’t have done it. She wasn’t quite sure what had prompted her coming as it was. It was more than curiosity.

Cathy had dated a couple times the first month she was in Fairbanks. It hadn’t worked out either time. She hadn’t been ready to deal with a new relationship. She wasn’t convinced now was the time, either, but she realized she had to try. Living the way she had been, with thoughts of Steve taunting her day and night, was intolerable.

Extracting the letter from the envelope, Cathy decided for the tenth time she liked the handwriting. It was large and bold, as if the man knew what he wanted and wouldn’t hesitate to go after it. The message was direct, without superfluous words to flower the letter. It read,
“Snoopy: negotiations open. Meet me Friday 8:30 p.m., Captain Bartlett’s. I’ll wear a red neck scarf.”
He hadn’t asked her to identify herself. Cathy appreciated that. If he walked in the restaurant and she didn’t like what she saw, she could leave. Somehow, she decided, it didn’t matter what he looked like. In an unexplainable way, she liked him already. Certainly she wasn’t expecting a handsome prince on a white stallion. Any man who would place an ad in the personals was probably unattractive, shy, and …

Her thoughts did a crazy tailspin as the restaurant door opened. Cathy saw the red scarf before she recognized the face. She swallowed in an attempt to ease the paralysis that gripped her throat. It was Grady Jones, Angela’s father.

Grady’s unnerving blue eyes met hers across the distance. He knew. A smile of recognition flickered over his mouth as he came toward her. Cathy felt trapped, her eyes unable to leave the muscular frame. Darn it, he was good-looking. He wore a dark wool jacket over a blue turtleneck sweater. The sweater intensified the color of his eyes, making them almost indigo.

“Snoopy?” he queried evenly, resting the palms of his hands on the edge of the table.

Cathy gestured weakly, instantly conveying how unsettling this whole experience was to her. “Yes.” The one word sounded torn and ragged.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked, clearly struggling not to laugh.

She was glad he found the situation amusing. There didn’t seem to be any other way to look at it. “All right,” Cathy agreed, her voice somewhat steadier.

He slid into the booth, sitting across from her. The waitress came, and he turned over his coffee cup so she could fill it.

“Would you like a menu?”

“No,” Cathy answered quickly.

“Yes, we would,” Grady contradicted.

The waitress glanced from one to the other, unsure. “I’ll leave two. Let me know when you’re ready to order, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a while.”

Grady looked at Cathy. “Well, Miss Thompson, we meet again. I’ll admit I’m surprised. You don’t look like the type of woman who plays the personals.”

“I don’t … normally,” she qualified, feeling defensive.

“What made you this time?”

“I have this friend …” she began, and paused. She couldn’t blame Linda. She’d made the decision to go ahead with this idea herself. “I liked your ad,” she told him honestly.

The bushy eyebrows quirked upward. “I liked your response.”

“Did you get many?”

“A few.”

Silence.

“You don’t like me, do you?” There wasn’t any derision in his voice. It was a statement of fact more than a question.

“I don’t think I do. You’re a rotten father, and you work too hard.”

Grady shrugged. “I’m not sure I like you, either.”

Cathy’s short laugh was genuine. “I can imagine.”

“You’re opinionated, judgmental, and stubborn.”

“Impulsive and quick-tempered,” she finished for him.

“Not bad-looking, though.”

She flashed him a wide smile. “And my teeth are my own.”

Laughter crinkled lines about his eyes. “Would you like to order something?”

Cathy’s gaze met his, and she shrugged. “Why not?” She hadn’t eaten much dinner, her stomach uneasy over the coming meeting.

Grady signaled the waitress, who pulled a pad from her apron pocket as she approached.

“Are you ready?”

“I think so.” Grady looked at Cathy, indicating she should order first.

“I’d like a piece of apple pie.”

“I’ll have the pie and a cup of coffee.” As soon as the woman moved away from the table, Grady asked, “Do you normally order a diet drink with pie?”

Her eyes laughing, Cathy nodded. “It soothes the conscience somehow. I know I probably shouldn’t be eating desserts.”

“Why not?” Grady questioned. “It looks like you can afford to put on a few pounds.”

It was the truth. She had lost weight before and after Steve and MaryAnne’s wedding. Thoughts of them together caused her to look away.

When their order arrived, Cathy noted that he was studying her. They talked for a while about things in general, Alaska, and the coming winter. She told him about Peterkins and a little of her life in Kansas. She noticed he didn’t mention Angela or talk about his job. In an hour there wasn’t anything more to say.

“Well, I suppose I should think about heading home,” Cathy said. “I hate to worry my dog.”

“It’s been”—he paused, as though searching for the right word—“interesting,” he concluded.

Cathy quickly noted that he hadn’t admitted that their time together had been pleasant. At least he was honest. If she had to find a one-word summary of their date,
interesting
said it well. She was glad he didn’t suggest they meet again, because she wasn’t sure how she’d respond. Probably with a no.

He walked to the car with her. “Thank you, Grady. As you say, it’s been interesting.” As she withdrew the keys from her purse, Grady opened the car door for her. When Cathy glanced up, her mouth opened, then closed. “How’d you do that?” she burst out.

“Do what?” He looked puzzled.

“Open that door,” she demanded, her voice high and unreasonable. “It’s broken. It’s been broken for two weeks. I was waiting until payday because I couldn’t afford to have it fixed.”

Grady was laughing at her again, a lazy smile curving his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t know. If I had, I would have left it alone.”

Her own mouth thinned as she scooted inside the car. “Curse you, Red Baron,” she murmured, and slammed the door shut. Cathy could feel his eyes following her as she drove out of the parking lot. By the time she pulled into her driveway, she found herself smiling. But the amusement died when she attempted to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Ramming her shoulder against it as hard as she could, still it wouldn’t give. Sighing, she shook her head in disgust and climbed out the passenger side.

* * *

Linda phoned at ten Saturday morning. “Well?” she demanded. “How was he?”

“Okay,” Cathy admitted noncommittally. She felt strangely reluctant to explain that the man she had met was Grady Jones.

“That’s all?” Disappointment coated Linda’s naturally soft voice. “Will you be seeing him again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you disappointed?”

Somehow it seemed important to Linda that Cathy have a good time. “No, I’m not disappointed in the least. It was an interesting experience.” There was that word again.

“Want me to look through the personals for you?”

“I doubt if you’ll wait for my approval,” Cathy said, in slight reprimand. “But next time I think I’ll revert to the more conventional means of meeting a man.”

“Don’t give up after one try,” Linda pleaded. “I kissed a lot of frogs before I found my prince.”

“I have no intentions of kissing anyone.” She didn’t, either. Not since Steve, almost a year ago. She was a healthy, reasonably attractive female. There had to be something wrong with her not to have been kissed in a year. She didn’t even want to be kissed unless it was Steve.

“I’ve got to go, Linda. I’ll talk to you Monday.” Cathy didn’t mean to sound abrupt, although she realized she did. Replacing the receiver, she exhaled. Why did everything come back to Steve? Why couldn’t she sever him from her thoughts as sharply and effectively as she’d cut herself away from her family and Kansas?

* * *

School went well the next week. Routine filled her days. She wasn’t a regular teacher in a classroom. Her job involved working with the students who had problems with basic skills, such as phonics, reading, and fundamental math. In all, she worked with sixty students during the week for short periods of time in small groups. A great deal of satisfaction came as a result of seeing a child make strides in a particular problem area.