The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) (11 page)

She just sat there, frozen. The embarrassment of a high school gym full of staring people was just too much. She'd been in another gym, another time, when the shame of crime had touched her—

How had she so miscalculated? She had thought she could stay anonymous here. For a short time, she'd even entertained the idea—face it, she'd dreamed it—that she might even be able to stay here, start over, leave the past behind. Maybe settle down with a cute cop and little Oliver....

But no. She pushed the plate of food away from her, no longer hungry.

Ryan stood up to face Mrs. Rutherford, but when he leaned down to help her to her feet, she shook off his hand. She kept her eyes down, on the plate. She was not going to argue with all these people. They had made up their minds about her, and she didn't care what they thought. She felt around on the floor, trying to find her purse. She was getting out of here, ASAP. Where was her damned purse?!

"Here it is," Robin said, pulling her purse up on the other side of the table. "I must have snagged it with my foot. Ooh, Ralph Lauren. We are soul mates, sister." She handed it to Camilla across the table.

"I just got it on Ebay," Camilla mumbled.

"Fabulous."

Camilla stared at her, and Robin winked back.

Did she think this was a joke?

"Camilla?" Ryan said, luckily interrupting her before she said something stupid.

"I'm fine," she whispered.

"What's the matter, little Missy? Thought you were fooling people?" That voice could shatter glass, and not in a melodic, Mariah Carey kind of way.

"That's enough, Ma'am."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. You're out of line."

Camilla looked up at Ryan, shocked.

"Captain Knight!" Mrs. Rutherford said, just as shocked. "You're defending this woman?"

"People are innocent until proven guilty," Ryan said firmly, not backing down. "Maybe you haven't been reading your newspapers thoroughly enough. The real embezzler was identified. Ms. Stevens has not been convicted of any crimes. And attempting to ruin her reputation in town is not okay. That's not how we treat people in Pajaro Bay."

Camilla heard a few mutters of "no, it's not," and wondered if they'd still agree if they really knew the whole story.

"I guess if you make friends in the right places..." Mrs. Rutherford said, eyeing Captain Knight significantly.

"That's out of line, Ma'am," he said again. Camilla watched him stare her down without blinking. Oh, if she could only be that brave. "Are you accusing me of not doing my job?" He handed her a card. "That's the sheriff's number. Feel free to use it."

"You think I won't? You think because you're quitting your job—" There were a few gasps from the onlookers—"you can say whatever you want?"

"Oh, give it a rest, Mabel." Camilla stared at the new speaker. The arrogant-looking old lady with the orange hat gazed back at her with what Camilla would swear was a twinkle in her eye. Then the woman turned back to Mrs. Rutherford. "Mabel, you've committed a few crimes yourself in your day...."

"What?! Why, Zelda, I never—"

"Honey, if that pie you donated to the last bake sale doesn't qualify as a felony, I don't know what would."

That finally broke the tension. Everyone laughed, and people began to drift back to their own dinners and their own conversations.

Mrs. Rutherford stalked away, and Camilla turned to Ryan.

"I'm so sorry," she said as he helped her to her feet. She clutched her purse and made a beeline for where the kids were playing.

"Slow down, Camilla." It took him only a few long strides to catch up to her.

Oliver was with a couple of kids his age, all apparently taking a turn at some game on a phone. Thank God for that—the old battleaxe's insults apparently hadn't carried this far. "Come on, hon. We're going."

She held out her hand to him, and he reluctantly took it. "But my turn's next. I'm winning."

"I'm sorry, but we've gotta go."

"Why?" Ryan stepped in front of them. "Slow down."

"I'm sorry, Ryan."

"For what? For being targeted by that old witch? Everybody in town's been on the receiving end of her jabs. Don't let it bother you. I know you. You don't associate with criminals. You're the victim. Don't forget that—Why are you blushing? What did I say?"

He was just making it worse. He didn't know her. His defense of her was wrong. She wasn't the innocent little flower he seemed to think she was, and the more he insisted on it the worse she felt. Why had she thought this was a good idea? He had a completely wrong impression of her, and he'd just be furious if he found out how mistaken he was about her.

She shook her head at him. "I'm just embarrassed. I want to go now." She tried to brush past him, but just bumped into someone else. Her purse went flying, but Ryan's arm quickly came around her waist, keeping her from falling. His hand felt good there, natural, and she hated that, knowing how un-natural it was.

The older woman she'd bumped into handed back her purse. "Robin was right. It is a nice Ralph Lauren. Introduce us, Captain Ryan." It was not a request.

Ryan kept his arm around Camilla's waist. "Miss Potter, this is Camilla Stevens. Camilla, this is Miss Zelda Potter."

Camilla looked—really looked—at the elderly woman. She saw sparkling blue eyes with a perpetually amused twinkle in the pale, heavily lined face. The arched brows, distinctive features—something seemed familiar about her, but she couldn't place it.

"Hello," she muttered. She tried to pull away from Ryan, but he held her tightly. At another time, that might have felt nice, but now she just wanted to run, and he was stopping her.

"Let go, Ryan," she growled.

He dropped his arm and she took one step.

"Now that's how you should have talked to Mabel, young lady."

Camilla started to walk away.

"We haven't talked, Camilla." Miss Zelda's voice stopped her. The woman sure could command a room.

"Talked about what?"

"About the Honeymoon Cottage, of course." She pulled out a tiny notebook with an orange suede cover. "I have time tomorrow morning. I will see you at 11 a.m." She wrote a note with a gold pen and then closed the notebook. "We will discuss your remodeling then."

"Will you be bringing the whole committee?"

Zelda laughed. "No. Mabel is busy with her little tschotscke shop. She wouldn't be invited anyway, dear. She doesn't have the sensitivity it takes to remodel old homes."

"But she's on the preservation committee."

Zelda laughed again. "Pajaro Bay is a small town. We have to live with each other here. We don't cut people off no matter how annoying they are, or we'd have no one to bring pies to the bake sales."

"Even lousy pies."

"Exactly." She smiled. "You'll get used to us, after a while."

"I'm not staying," she said firmly. "I'm just remodeling the cottage so I can sell it and move on."

For the first time Miss Zelda looked unsure. "But the boy's father said you were coming to stay...?"

Ryan jumped on that. "The boy's father, Miss Z?"

"We'll discuss it tomorrow, dear," she said to Camilla.

"But Miss Z—" Ryan started, but she raised a hand. He immediately fell silent, and Camilla wished she could capture whatever it was that made her so good at dealing with people.

"That's not for you, Captain Ryan," Miss Zelda continued. "This is a matter for your young friend and me to discuss."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ryan said meekly, and Camilla almost laughed. Miss Zelda was a powerful presence if she could make this oak tree of a man meekly obey. But she wasn't done with him:

"And now, Ryan. About Mabel."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"As satisfying as your little take-down was, I would advise you not to repeat it. You have always behaved impeccably, and it would not do to change now."

He responded with a shrug. He looked a lot like Oliver at that moment, and Camilla almost laughed.

"Don't burn your bridges, young man. No man is an island. You need people more than you think you do. Two weeks is a long time." She glanced at Camilla. "A lot can change before you get that car from Hector."

Before Camilla had a chance to digest any of that, the imperious old lady added, "And as for you, young lady."

"Yes—Ma'am?" Somehow ma'am seemed appropriate with this person.

"We will be at the cottage at eleven o'clock."

"We? I thought—" but that thought was swept aside with a wave of Miss Zelda's manicured hand.

"You will be there." It wasn't a question. "We will discuss the cottage and what you plan to do with it."

"Yes, Ma'am," Camilla said meekly.

Miss Z took a step closer, then bent that arrogant head down until the brim of her orange hat brushed against Camilla's curls. "And if you allow a bitch like Mabel Rutherford to run you off, you're not worthy of the Honeymoon Cottage, young lady."

She swept out, and Camilla stared after her, openmouthed. She wasn't sure if she was more shocked at Miss Potter's support, or that a woman more imposing than the Queen of England had just used the word "bitch" in casual conversation. Either way, she was half fascinated, half dreading the royal audience tomorrow, "promptly at eleven o'clock."

She shook off the lingering unrealness of that strange conversation, and looked around for Oliver. He was still hanging out with the deputy's daughter, Marisol. "Come along, kid. We're going."

He reluctantly came over.

"It's still early," Ryan said.

"I'm leaving, Ryan." She still felt like everyone was staring, and she hated that sensation.

"No one believes a word that old battle-axe says. All she does is gossip and bad-mouth everyone."

"But they don't know I'm innocent."

"But you know. So why do you care what others think?"

She didn't have an answer for that, so she just said, "I'm leaving. Now. Stop pushing me to stay where I'm not wanted."

He looked confused at her, but if he didn't get it, that was too bad. She wasn't hanging around here for one more minute.

She stalked to the door, Oliver in tow, hoping at least Ryan would have the courtesy to follow and drive them home.

"Wait up!" Robin came up in a clatter of high heels. "I can't run in these things."

"What do you want?" she snapped. That's all she needed was one more person criticizing her.

"Wow, Camilla. I guess you're not all sweetness and light after all."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be. It's nice to see you've got a backbone under all that goody-goodyness."

Was she making fun of her? "What do you want, Robin?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I don't get into the office before ten."

"So?" She crossed her arms in front of her. "Why do I need to know this?"

"Because when you come by for coffee, you should wait until after ten, because I am so not a morning person."

"Oh. Okay." What was this? She still wanted to have coffee after what she'd heard?

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow. After I drop off Oliver at school, maybe."

"No maybe. I'll see you tomorrow sometime after ten. Will you teach me how to buy Ralph Lauren stuff on Ebay?"

"Um, sure." Was that why she was being friendly? She had an appointment with Miss Zelda, but maybe she would stop by Robin's briefly before that. What could it hurt? "Yeah. I'll do that."

She walked away toward the door, where Ryan and Oliver stood waiting.

"What did Robin want?" Ryan asked.

"For me to teach her how to buy stuff on Ebay. What's that got to do with anything?"

"You think that's why she wants to be friends with you? For you to teach her something? People are trying to be nice to you. Why aren't you giving them a chance?"

"I—I don't know." How could she explain? "It's just better if I don't drag other people into my problems."

"Why? Isn't that what friends are for? To get dragged into your problems, and then they drag you into theirs, and then you realize your problems aren't all that bad after all?"

He made it all sound so easy. But it never was. She knew that. Why did Robin and Miss Zelda and even Ryan keep trying to get to know her? She didn't like to open up.

"Maybe I like my shell. It's cozy inside."

"Cozy or suffocating?"

"Who are you to talk, aren't you 'the clam' yourself? When were you going to tell me you were leaving town?"

Wow. That was completely out of line. She didn't even know him. She had no right to expect him to share his personal life with her. It was none of her business.

He obviously thought so too, because they drove home in silence.

~*~

At the cottage, Ryan pulled to a stop. When she started to get out, Ryan put his hand on her arm. She felt so warm and alive—and so distant. She tried to pull away from him again, but he couldn't let her go yet.

"Send Oliver inside. I need to talk to you about the car."

"Okay." She gave Oliver the gate keys and he ran down the path to the cottage.

She crossed her arms and stared at him. "What's wrong with the car and how much is it gonna cost?"

"Not much. It had a puncture in the gas tank and Hector can repair it tomorrow. Won't cost more than you can afford."

She uncrossed her arms and reached for the door handle. "Thanks for telling me."

"My stepdaughter was murdered a year ago," he blurted out.

She froze, then turned to him, her eyes so wide and stricken.

"I didn't mean to say it like that. It just came out. You wanted to know about me leaving town."

She slid over closer on the seat and put a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, Ryan. I didn't know."

"I know. You asked why." He turned away to look out the windshield. "I had been married to Angela about two years. We moved here, to her hometown, and I took the job with the sheriff's department." He recited the sentences matter-of-factly, trying to keep all trace of emotion out of his voice.

Camilla's hand moved to cover his. He realized he was holding the steering wheel in a death grip. He let go and let her put her hand in his, palm to palm. She felt warm and alive, and he realized how cold he was.