Until She Met Daniel (13 page)

“Howard White speaking,” the mayor answered.

“Hello...Howard,” Daniel said, still uncomfortable with the informality. “It's Daniel Whittier. Look, I've been invited to do an informal chat with folks at the Senior Center tomorrow to provide information on the water and sewer issue.”

“Oh. Uh, the council meets later in the evening. Can't they wait until then?”

“I understand some of them aren't able to attend. In any case, all these rumors are a big part of the problem. Mandy Colson was hoping I could clear them up.”

Silence. Then the mayor sighed.

“Well, it may be the best option. I mean...my mother is being bombarded with questions and she doesn't know what to say.”

“I'm sure.” From what he'd seen, Daniel didn't doubt the mayor had talked about the water issue with his family, leaving his mother with the dilemma of knowing what he thought, and being unable to say anything.

“It's a plan, then,” Howard said, sounding relieved.

“Would you like to attend, as well?”

“No, I...think not.”

“Fine. I'll let you know if anything significant comes up.”

Howard said goodbye and Daniel dropped the phone back in its cradle. It was a good thing both meetings weren't until tomorrow. That would give him time to sort out his thoughts and prepare bullet points for the senior lunch. He could also bring extra copies of the public reports the council was looking at, and that might help dispel suspicions that things weren't operating in the open.

The trickiest part would be talking with Mandy about it; she seemed more volatile than usual right now. He decided to send a brief email instead. It would be faster and he could keep working without another confrontation. Opening the program, he quickly typed a few short sentences and then settled back with the preliminary watershed report that he'd requested from the forestry station.

Much later, there were three sharp knocks on his door, and Daniel glanced at the clock as Mandy came inside, the lingering scents of the senior lunch blowing in, as well. His stomach grumbled.

“I got your email,” she announced. “I'll have to set up a phone tree to get the word out. Because of the lunch rush I couldn't check my emails earlier, so I couldn't announce it when everyone was here to eat.” Her tone was faintly accusatory.

Daniel winced. “I'm sorry. I should have spoken with you directly.”

Her nose wrinkled, then she seemed to forgive him. “Okay. What did you mean when you said I should be careful about how it was announced?”

“Just that the meeting will be informational only.”

She pushed a wisp of hair away from her face and Daniel wondered if the pale blond strands were as soft as they appeared. “You act as if they're children,” she said, exasperated.

“I respect them, but in my experience—”

“I know, your ‘experience' tells you the public often
acts
like children,” she said in a mock pompous tone.

Tension throbbed in his temples. “No, I was going to say that from what I've seen, many people hear only what they want to hear. They'll also have to accept that while it isn't secret, any new information has to be shared at the city council meeting first.”

“Okay, I get it. Lunch is at noon, so let's figure on you starting at twelve forty-five. I'll ask them not to pester you during the meal.”

“Thanks.”

She turned to leave, treating him to the view of her shapely behind, clad in tight jeans, with a dusting of flour on her right hip.

“Uh...Mandy,” Daniel called, and she faced him again.

“Yes?”

“You aren't just upset on the seniors' behalf, are you? There's more to it.” The question surprised him; her feelings were none of his business.

Mandy hesitated for a long moment. “I suppose. There's a bunch of stuff on my mind right now.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Daniel asked, surprising himself even more.

“Thanks, but no. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, but the door had already closed behind her.

* * *

B
Y
 
THE
 
TIME
 
the City Council meeting started Thursday evening, Mandy's neck ached with tension. She wanted to yell at Daniel to stop talking about water as if it was an emotionless issue. It was odd that he sounded so cut-and-dry, particularly after he'd shown an unusual sensitivity the prior afternoon, recognizing that she was out of sorts.

Of course, the Russells were contributing to her tension, as well. The morning had started badly, with Susan confirming that Chris was camping out at the forestry station following a terrific fight Sunday afternoon.

As for the city council meeting, there was nothing new to be learned. Daniel's information was more extensive than he'd presented after the senior lunch, but mostly more of the same. The real eye-opener was how Chris and Susan kept snapping at each other.
In public.
It wasn't simply a debate between two people on opposite sides of an issue. There was serious heat behind their barbs.

Mandy hated seeing it, and even Daniel seemed particularly uptight while husband and wife squared off. But that was silly; why would he care?

Joe Jensen, on the other hand, watched with lively interest, and didn't seem the least unhappy about the situation. Other attendees had varying reactions—everything from morbid curiosity to inadequate attempts to pretend they didn't notice.

Mandy smiled tentatively at Chris when he was leaving the room. He gave her a strained smile in return before disappearing. It reminded her of the old lament—when a couple got divorced, who got custody of their friends? But she didn't want to choose; she cared about them both.

Near the other door, Susan was clearly arguing with her father, before storming out.

Since Mandy had brought two loads of seniors, one group had to wait while she brought the others home. But when she returned to City Hall, there wasn't anyone in sight. Seeing a light under Daniel's door, she walked down the corridor and poked her head into his office.

“Hi. Do you know where everyone is?”

He glanced up from something he was working on at his desk. “Lou Ella Parsons asked me to tell you that some of the council members offered them rides, and to thank you. I don't know everyone who offered, but Howard White took two of them home.”

“That's one thing you can appreciate about Howard—he might dither over taking a public stand or making a decision, but he's a nice guy at heart.”

“Yes, of course.” Daniel's face was masklike. “I saw the van you were driving. It must feel huge after your VW Bug.”

Recognizing a deliberate attempt to switch subjects—probably to avoid discussing the mayor—Mandy shrugged. “Jane's son loaned it to me so I could take more passengers at a time. I've driven a tour bus at couple of my jobs, so it wasn't too bad.”

She sagged against the doorjamb, suddenly drained. Watching Susan and Chris fight had made her feel as though she were drowning in quicksand. They were in pain and she couldn't help them. Until now, Willow's Eve had seemed such a safe and normal place, with people who loved each other and where happily ever after had actually seemed possible.

“You look tired,” Daniel said.

She grimaced. “I hate politics and I especially hate it when my friends argue. And it was such a peachy evening otherwise. Reminded me of the
Titanic
going down, or maybe the
Hindenburg.
Then there's the Johnstown Flood or the mass extinction of the passenger pigeon.”

He opened his mouth, then appeared to hesitate before speaking. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I shouldn't.”

“Hey, it's decaf.”

Coffee suddenly sounded terrific. “Sure.” She took the cup he handed her and sank into the chair across from his desk. “Please don't tell me all the meetings on the water issue will be like this.”

“No promises.”

“Terrific. But if I can make one suggestion, you might get further if you acknowledge everyone's feelings. Just an ‘I understand you're upset' or ‘I get that you're worried' might help them feel the city is listening. You don't have to take sides.”

“I'll think about it.”

As Daniel continued making notes, Mandy sipped her coffee and tried not to notice the firm line of his jaw.

“How did you end up doing this kind of work?” she asked. “It isn't as if kids grow up dreaming of managing a town. They picture becoming a cowboy. Or a movie star. Or even a pilot or fireman, but not...civic business.” She'd almost said “pushing papers for a city,” but had decided it wasn't a diplomatic way to describe his career.

Daniel put his pen in its holder and looked at her. “Actually, I
did
imagine this. My uncle was a city manager. He didn't have any children, so he periodically brought me to the office. I admired the way he could take chaos and turn it into order.”

“You were a weird kid.”

“Maybe.”

Mandy had a hunch there was more to the story than what Daniel had explained, and that he didn't intend to tell it to her. Still, she felt sorry for anyone who hadn't enjoyed fantastic dreams as a child.

“What did you want to be when you were growing up?” he asked.

“Captain of a starship, especially if it was called the
U.S.S. Enterprise.
”

His expression lightened and he gave a quizzical smile. Her breath caught. He was exceptionally good-looking when he wasn't imitating a sourpuss.

“So, you were a
Star Trek
fan?” he asked.

“A true Trekkie. I still am, though I don't speak Klingon or go to sci-fi conventions.”
That often,
Mandy added silently. She had enjoyed conventions in the past, but hadn't seen one advertised in recent years.

“A shame you couldn't realize your ambition.”

“I've gone out to explore strange new worlds, and to seek out new life and new civilizations. Well, they were strange and new to me.” She drained her cup. “Thanks for the coffee. Now I feel ready to tackle the road again. Will you be working long?”

“Half an hour or so.”

“See ya.”

“Good night.”

Mandy walked to her car thinking of what Daniel had said about his childhood ambitions. It was nice that he'd admired his uncle enough to follow in his footsteps. But she still wondered if there was more to the story.

 

CHAPTER TEN

AFTER
 
THE
 
CITY
COUNCIL
meeting, Chris drove to the forestry station, where he was camping out in the break room. The couch there was okay for sleeping, but he missed his bed...and Susan.

He'd moved out to the station after making the mistake of checking into a local motel the first night—the desk clerk was married to one of the paper mill's foremen. News that he and Susan were having problems must have traveled to his father-in-law with the speed of light. Susan must have hated having the whole town finding out that way, just as much as he'd hated it himself.

And what now?

He'd said they needed some time apart, yet the longer things went, the more it looked like a separation. He
had
gone back to the house to shower and pick up a few things, but only when Susan wasn't there. What would a separation mean, anyhow? The first step to a divorce, or just a cooling-off period? He loved his wife and he didn't want his marriage to end. He just didn't know how to fix whatever was wrong.

Steve Woods sat on the porch of the forestry station, his chair tipped back. The two of them had worked together the longest at the station. Although Chris was technically Steve's superior, it hadn't interfered with their friendship.

“Thought I'd come out and offer you cheap beer and bad company,” Steve told him. “You can drink it later. I won't tell.”

Dropping into the chair next to Steve, Chris accepted the bottle. He looked at the label. “Cheap? This is a good imported ale.”

“I only brought one bottle. That's why it's cheap.”

Chris leaned his head back and breathed deeply. Steve had lost his wife from a burst aneurism a few years before, and for months, Chris had kept a careful watch over his friend's drinking habits. It appeared that Steve was now returning the favor. Smart—it was entirely too easy to drown your troubles in a bottle.

“I should have expected something to happen,” he said finally. “Joe was due for another cockeyed scheme to destroy the environment. Hell, the only reason my father-in-law hasn't dammed up every river in California is because he isn't rich enough. Give him more money and he'll get it done.” Chris couldn't bring himself to mention Susan.

Steve nodded. “As you've always said, he's a boil on the butt of creation.”

“I couldn't believe how bad he was the first time I met him, but by then it was too late.” Chris's voice trailed off. The moment he'd met Susan, he had instantly fallen head over heels. She'd been so beautiful and smart, so caring of people and full of energy, she had been impossible to resist. He'd done his best to ignore her father's identity. Then he'd met Joe and realized he was in genuine trouble. By marrying Susan, he'd have to endure Big Joe Jensen for the rest of his life.

He shouldn't be surprised she was siding with big business on environmental issues. Her father owned a paper mill. Somehow they'd dodged that bullet until now, but their luck had run out.

“Helluva meeting tonight,” Steve commented. “I left early—couldn't stand the bloodshed. How does Big Joe feel about you staying out here?”

“Gleeful, I'm sure.”

“You could come to our place,” Steve offered. “Rachel said to invite you.”

Steve had remarried three months ago. Chris liked Rachel, but he knew better than to move in with a newlywed couple, even temporarily. Besides, it would be depressing to be around two people happily in love. Better to rough it at the station.

“I'll hang here, but thank her for me.”

“Well, the offer stays open,” Steve said, getting up and clasping Chris on the shoulder. “Take it easy, pal.”

He drove away and Chris tucked the bottle of ale into his backpack. Maybe he should ask Mandy if any of the seniors would be interested in renting him a room. Her worried smile that evening had told him she was still a friend, and finding a place to live in Willow's Eve could be a challenge. There were few rentals, and some people might be reluctant to have him for fear of Joe Jensen.

* * *

O
N
F
RIDAY
, M
ANDY
smiled at the group of senior citizens trooping into her office and wondered what was up. The Senior Center functioned as a nice place for folks to hang out and socialize. So it wasn't surprising to see people around in the morning, but it was unusual for a large group to suddenly congregate in her office.

Dorothy took a step forward. “Mandy, we want to ask a favor. Would you represent our interests in the water issue?”

Mandy gaped at them. “What do you mean?”

“We want you to represent us,” Tom Upton repeated Dorothy's request. “Work with Daniel Whittier, keep track of what's happening, make sure our concerns are heard and our questions answered.”

“It's flattering you think I'd be right to do something this important,” Mandy stalled. “But you should choose someone from among yourselves. Besides, I'm not good at this sort of thing. How about Margaret? She's got mad skills for getting stuff done.”

Margaret turned smug.

“That's true,” her sister agreed. “But sometimes she's, well, somewhat abrupt.” Dorothy's carefully worded comment was a surprise. Most of the time she was a sweetie, but when it came to her sister, she was usually a lot more blunt.

“Maybe that's what you need,” Mandy argued.

“No, I'm like John Adams, obnoxious and disliked,” Margaret shocked her by saying.

Her husband patted her hand. “Nonsense, dear. But someone else might do better in this situation.”

Holy hell. What had happened to them? Mandy recognized the “obnoxious and disliked” line Margaret had used from the movie
1776,
which they had watched on one of their movie afternoons in July. But Mandy never would have expected Margaret, of all people, to recognize aspects of herself in the film's portrait of the United States' second president.

“Please, Mandy,” Tom urged. “You're smart and can figure things out. A lot of young people your age don't get how things can be for older folks, but we know you understand.”

Heart sinking, Mandy looked at the anxious faces surrounding her desk. She
did
understand. Senior citizens often felt dismissed and overlooked, as if being retired somehow meant they weren't as important as “working adults.” And they felt more vulnerable, too, with fixed incomes, higher health costs and less flexibility to recover from financial blows. It was one of the reasons there were so many senior advocacy groups and organizations representing their concerns.

“We've been talking about it for days,” Dorothy said. “We finally decided one person should represent us, and everybody wants you.”

Not me,
Mandy wanted to protest.

She'd feel awful if things went badly. Besides, it would mean working even closer with Daniel, and she was still having trouble keeping her response to him under control. Yet when she looked into the hopeful, determined eyes of the group, Mandy couldn't refuse.

“I'll do my best.”

They discussed it for a few minutes before leaving, then she sat down and doodled on a pad of paper. It was just procrastination; she had to tell Daniel what the seniors had asked, and she wasn't sure how he'd react. Finally, she tried calling his office. He wasn't in, but a short while later she ran into him in the hallway.

“Hi,” she said with forced brightness. “Do you have some time? There's something we need to discuss.”

Daniel glanced at his watch. “I've got a few minutes, but we might be interrupted. I'm expecting a phone call.”

“That's okay.”

But once Mandy was seated in the chair across from his desk, she grew nervous. She hadn't recognized it before, but Daniel had slowly altered the room since his arrival, and she knew enough about power dynamics to realize he'd probably done it to emphasize that he was in charge. Or maybe he'd just done it instinctively—Daniel Whittier was an alpha male who exuded confidence and authority. Anyway, she wouldn't let furniture arrangement erode
her
confidence.

Lifting her chin, she said, “The seniors have asked me to be their voice about the water and sewer issue. It wasn't my idea,” she added hastily. “I wasn't kidding when I said I hate politics, but when you've got a woman willing to admit she's too abrasive, and a guy who got shot for his country asking you to serve, it's impossible to say no.”

Daniel was obviously too much in control of himself to show much reaction, but she suspected he wasn't happy about the news.

When he had first arrived in Willow's Eve, Mandy had wondered if he disapproved of her. But that was probably because he seemed a little starched and uptight, reminiscent of her parents, who definitely didn't approve of their daughter. She could imagine their reaction if they were in Daniel's shoes right now. Her mother would say Mandy didn't have the skills or patience to deal with such an important task, and her father would mention some classical joker who'd screwed things up by taking a job he shouldn't have...all in stiffly perfect English. Then he'd gravely wish her the best because he was glad, at the very least, that she was finally doing something serious with her life.

She shuddered. Jeez, no point in digging up that mental garbage. She didn't want to work with Daniel for one complicated reason...how sexy he could be when he wasn't acting like a bureaucratic automaton.

Funny, her mother insisted physical attraction was simply a negligible chemical reaction and what really mattered were common values, shared personality traits and parallel life goals. But Mandy didn't agree. There was nothing negligible about the way Daniel made her feel. Fortunately, it was just physical.

She also wanted to believe that two people could fall in love and make magic together, even if it wasn't possible for everyone. In her years of wandering, she'd come to the conclusion that some people were wired that way, and some people weren't. She was one of the ones who wasn't geared for love and happily ever after.

Nevertheless, it had been a long time since she'd found a guy so compelling. Perhaps she was one of those masochistic types, getting hot and bothered about someone entirely wrong for her.

“I see,” Daniel said in a brisk voice. “What does representing the seniors mean?”

“Darned if I know,” Mandy answered candidly. “But I did get them to say they'd funnel their questions through me.”

His left eyebrow raised as he nodded. “That should save time. Keep notes and we'll meet as needed to go over their concerns and questions. That will keep us both informed in a more organized manner.”

“All right,” she said. “I'll go now and let you get ready for your phone call.”

“Thanks. Have a pleasant weekend.”

“You, too.”

“I'm planning on it.” He grinned, looking much happier. “My family is arriving.”

“That's wonderful.”

Mandy left and went to the kitchen to check on lunch. She'd wondered when Daniel's daughter and ex-mother-in-law would be joining him, though when he'd first said “I'm planning on it” so enthusiastically, the thought had instantly occurred that he had a hot date, only to be dismissed with equal speed.

It would be easier for her if Daniel became involved with someone. It would head off her useless speculations about what kind of woman he preferred, what kind of woman his ex-wife was...and whether he'd really gotten aroused that time they'd argued.

* * *

S
ATURDAY
 
MORNING
, D
ANIEL
waited on the front steps of the house. Joyce had called to say they were ten minutes out, and he didn't want Samantha to be overwhelmed by the Victorian. Seeing her father first thing would help. Uneasily, he recalled taking his daughter to Disneyland and her wide-eyed stare at the haunted mansion. The house in Willow's Eve didn't look like the one in Disneyland, but it was big and old and might evoke negative images.

Yet Samantha didn't even seem to see the house when she arrived. She simply dashed up the walkway to fling herself into Daniel's arms.

“I missed you, Daddy,” she cried.

“Oh, I missed you, too, pumpkin.” With Samantha still clinging to his waist, he straightened to give Joyce a hug. “And I missed you, too, Mom.”

Joyce's eyes suddenly went teary, and Daniel realized it was the first time he'd called her that.

“It's so good to see you, Daniel.”

“How was your trip?”

“Lovely. Mount Shasta is as beautiful as I remembered.”

Daniel smiled. “I'm glad you enjoyed it. Well, you two, here's our new home.”

Joyce looked up and shook her head. “It's enormous.”

“It's bigger than enormous. I'm told it's the showplace of the entire area.”

Samantha's eyes grew round as she finally focused on the house. Walking across the porch, she put her hand against the stained glass window on the right side of the door. “It's pretty, Daddy.”

“It
is
pretty, and wait until you see the rest,” he told her, keeping his tone lighthearted.

Hoping she would still like it after seeing the whole place, he led them through the rooms on the ground floor, then up the steps. They toured several spare bedrooms, then the large one he'd set up for Joyce.

“It's beautiful,” she declared with a pleased smile. “And it has this lovely bay window where I can sit and look into the trees and across the landscape.”

Remembering her fondness for nature, he had chosen the room with the best view.

“I hoped it would be right, but if you'd rather have a different room or furniture, I'll be happy to move whatever you want,” he assured.