Until She Met Daniel (14 page)

“This couldn't be better.”

Finally, he led Samantha into her bedroom at the front of the house.

“Daddy! It's a princess bedroom,” she squealed. “Only better. It's like that book Grandma read me, about the girl who went into a house that was empty except for one special room.”

“The Velvet Room?”
Joyce guessed.

“Uh-huh.” Samantha ran to the alcove and pulled the curtain closed. “See?”

“So, you want to keep this room, Samantha?”

“It's my favorite. You guessed right, Daddy!”

It was what Mandy had predicted, not that it was strange she had figured it out. After all, she'd once been a little girl too, and probably remembered what she would have enjoyed.

Mandy.

Daniel's gut tightened.

The mayor had come by Friday afternoon for one of his informal chats, the primary topic being the seniors' choice of Mandy Colson to help with the water project.

“It's a fine idea,” Howard had said with uncharacteristic certainty. “She can work alongside you. She, uh, doesn't have long ties in Willow's Eve, but people around here...you know, trust her.”

At a guess, the mayor hadn't wanted to point out that Willow's Eve still didn't trust their new city manager. But Daniel wasn't offended by the idea. Why
should
they trust him? He'd been on the job a few weeks, and while Howard clearly believed in the power of a professional city manager, it didn't mean everyone felt the same.

“Wouldn't it be better to have one of the property owners instead?” Daniel had asked carefully. “Mandy mentioned not enjoying this sort of thing.”

“No, no,” Howard said heartily. “She'll do fine. And a property owner would be biased, don't you see? There'd be too much emotion. Mandy is a good choice, and she can go with you to those meetings you're planning in Sacramento. I'd expected to attend myself, but she's the natural one to do it now.”

Obviously, the mayor was relieved at the prospect of dumping more of the responsibility for the water project onto someone else, even if it was a free-spirited young woman they'd hired because no one else was available.

Personally, Daniel was far from happy at the thought of more intensive time with Mandy than he'd anticipated. She threw him off balance with her emotional outbursts and sexy allure. But after all, this was only one of the challenges he'd have to deal with as a newly single man, so he'd have to accept the inevitable.

After a quick tour of the Victorian, they sat in the living room, Samantha perched on Daniel's lap as she told him about the trip and school. She said nothing about her mother or the wedding.

“Today we'll get you unpacked and settled in, then tomorrow afternoon we can go for a picnic at the beach,” he suggested.

“Goody,” Samantha cried and Joyce nodded happily.

It was a terrific day as they unpacked and became acquainted with the house. Joyce even went down to the Handy Spandy to get some groceries. At five-thirty, they had just finished supper at the kitchen table when Samantha screeched with excitement.

“Look, Daddy!”

It was Mr. Spock. One of the doors must have been left open, because the large cat had strolled in and was surveying the kitchen.

“That's our neighbor's cat,” he told her. “His name is Mr. Spock and he likes to visit.”

Samantha regarded the animal hesitantly, but the cat had no reservations. He strolled forward and sniffed at her knee.

“Merrrrow!”

His daughter jerked at the sound.

“It's all right,” Daniel told her. “I think that's his way of saying hello.”

“Mr. Spock,” called a voice in the distance.

Daniel picked up the feline and went to the front of the house, where he saw Mandy patrolling the sidewalk and calling the cat's name again.

“He's here.”

Going down the steps, he handed the cat to her.

“I'm so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I was trying to keep him in so he wouldn't go over and be a bother when your family arrived, but he sneaked out anyway.”

* * *

M
ANDY
 
HELD
 
ON
 
TO
 
Mr. Spock, feeling bad that he'd interrupted Daniel's first day back with his family.

“I'll go now, and see you Monday,” she said quickly and turned to leave.

“Hello,” said a child's voice.

Mandy glanced back and saw that a little girl had come out of the house and was standing close to her father.

“Hello,” she said in return, smiling both at the child and the older woman on the porch.

“Joyce, Samantha, this is Mandy Colson,” Daniel introduced them. “She's our next-door neighbor, and she also works at City Hall as the director of the Senior Center.”

“I'm sorry my cat barged in,” she said.

Joyce smiled. “He was just being neighborly.”

“Can I pet him?” Samantha asked.

“Uh...” Mandy looked at Daniel, who nodded slightly. “Sure.” Since Mr. Spock had lived with her only a short time, she wasn't sure how he'd behave with a child. Holding him firmly, she knelt down. Samantha gently touched the cat's fur. A purr rolled from his chest and he licked the youngster's wrist.

“Oooh!” Samantha pulled her hand away.

“Don't worry,” Mandy assured her. “He was just kissing you. He doesn't know how rough his tongue is.”

“Oh.”

Samantha cautiously began her soft strokes again, but after a few minutes, Mr. Spock got bored. He wriggled free and wandered over to investigate a grasshopper.

Mandy stood. “I'm really sorry for intruding. I'll take him home now.”

“Not at all. It's nice to meet you, Mandy,” Joyce said. “May I ask a question about the Senior Center before you go?”

“Of course.”

“I met some people at the store this afternoon and they invited me to the senior lunch. I'll probably want to get settled first, but is it all right?”

“Of course. You're more than welcome.”

“It's just that I haven't been a resident, so I wasn't sure.”

“That doesn't matter, and it's a great way to get to know people,” Mandy told her enthusiastically. “Come down anytime. It's more than lunch. We have classes and movie afternoons, a sewing and crafts group that meets several mornings a week, and another crowd that plays bridge on Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons. They're always looking for new players. Plus, folks hang around a good part of the day, putting puzzles together or doing other things.”

“I love a challenging jigsaw puzzle.”

“Then you've got ready-made friends waiting for you at City Hall. I have to stay away from the puzzles myself, or I get hooked for hours.”

“May I come, too?” Samantha asked in a hesitant voice.

Mandy grinned at her. “Sure, your grandmother can bring you if it's okay with her and your daddy. But you may not want to visit after you make some friends at school. You'll probably decide to play with them instead.”

“Maybe,” the little girl agreed doubtfully.

“Sure you will, Samantha,” Daniel chimed in. “You're going to make lots of new friends.”

“Okay.”

“Well, have a nice evening.” Mandy picked up Mr. Spock again and slipped through the bushes between the houses. There was a warm pot of soup on the stove for her dinner. Susan had planned to come over, but she'd called to say she had a migraine and was going to bed early.

As she stirred the soup, Mandy thought about her neighbors. Joyce seemed nice, and it was great that folks had already invited her to the Senior Center, a real mark in Willow's Eve's favor. And Samantha was a cute kid with a sensitive face and manner.

Then there was Daniel. He'd seemed more relaxed than usual, and the way he'd looked at his daughter had shown how much he loved her. That was nice, but seeing the gentler side of him made Mandy want to go and hide.

How was that for illogical?

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

L
ATE
M
ONDAY
 
AFTERNOON
,
Susan exited the grocery store and glared at the flier adorning her car's windshield.

NO WATER FOR BIG BUSINESS

DON'T BE FORCED TO PAY HUGE FOR WATER

SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT FOR YOUR CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN

Not cleverly written, but it would ensure people would think the water issue was entirely to support the paper mill, and that any project would cost residents a fortune. As for leaving it on her car? That was just plain tactless. It was possible that whoever had put it there didn't know it was her vehicle, but it still felt like a personal slap in the face.

Susan grabbed the paper and ripped it into tiny shreds. She was tempted to let them fly around the Handy Spandy parking lot, but she actually
did
care about the environment, no matter what her jackass of a husband thought. So she wadded up the paper and tucked it into the trash sack she kept in the car. She'd put it into the recycle bin at home.

Home.

A wave of sadness swept through her. The house didn't feel like home right now, just a bunch of silent rooms where she turned on the television to fill up the empty spaces with some sort of noise. Even when she was trying to sleep, she kept the radio or TV playing low—anything to distract her brain from cycling the same things over and over again.

Her cell phone rang...with the ringtone she'd programmed years ago for Chris. Was he calling to say he was sorry?

Snatching the phone, she punched the button. “Hello,” she said cautiously.

“It's me.”

“Yeah.”

“I just want to know if you've told Evan about us.”

She almost threw the phone across the parking lot, but stopped herself in time. “No.”

“Okay. Because I wasn't going to say anything, either. Let him get well started in his schoolwork without being distracted.”

“That's what I thought, but it's taking a risk. One of his friends might tell him.”

“Yeah, but his closest buddies are attending other colleges or have joined the service, so they're probably too busy to talk. And since he can't get away for Thanksgiving after all, he might not have to hear anything for a while.”

Evan had texted a few days before that his boss wanted him to work on the holiday. Susan had felt worse than ever.

“I hope so.” She clenched her fingers. Obviously Chris didn't think he was moving back in the foreseeable future. And except for the City Council meeting, they'd barely spoken since he'd packed a bag in a huff and walked out—how did you fix a marriage if you didn't talk?

“Okay, that's all I needed to know,” Chris said.

She didn't say goodbye, just punched the off button.

Poor Evan.

She had believed they'd provided a stable background, showing him a good model of a healthy relationship. How were they going to face him with this kind of news? Of course...she and Chris weren't actually divorced. They hadn't even filed for a legal separation, or whatever couples did when their marriage was in that much trouble. It was possible things could still work out, and at least they were on the same page about Evan, wanting his first months in university to be carefree...which they wouldn't be if he heard his parents' marriage could be on the rocks.

Suddenly she couldn't stand the thought of eating alone. Grabbing her cell phone again, she called Mandy's office, hoping she hadn't left for the day.

“Hi,” she said. “It's me, Susan. Sorry about missing dinner on Saturday. How would you like to go out to eat tonight?”

Mandy paused only a second. “Sure. We talked about trying that new place in Vicksville. But there's still some soup left from Saturday if you'd rather go back to my place.”

“No, let's go out. I'll come by and pick you up.”

“Sounds good. Just give me a half hour to finish the newsletter.”

“I'll see you then.”

Susan took her groceries home and unpacked them, relieved she wouldn't have to pretend that she didn't mind cooking for one. Then she drove back to City Hall.

Mandy was waiting for her and slid into the passenger seat. “How have you been?”

“Nothing's changed. Chris called earlier, but he just wanted to be sure I hadn't said anything to Evan. We agreed we don't want him to be distracted from his studies.”

“Agreeing about something is a good step, isn't it?”

“I guess so.”

“Chris loves you. That doesn't change just because of an argument.”

Susan prayed Mandy was right. She still loved her husband, even if he
was
acting like an ass.

“I hope he does,” she answered slowly. “But people who love each other can still mess up.”

“I know, but don't decide it's over. I mean, don't make any self-fulfilling prophecies. Chris is as miserable as you are, and that has to tell you something.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I saw him at the post office this morning. He's lost weight and his eyes are really sad. That is, when he isn't talking about...oh, never mind.”

It wasn't hard to guess what Mandy hadn't finished saying, that Chris was angry instead of sad when he launched into his rhetoric about the reservoir.

Susan felt bad about leaning so much on her friend, but until Mandy had moved to town, it hadn't been easy having friendships in Willow's Eve—perhaps that's why they'd become close so quickly. Since her father was the town's major employer, even as a kid she had felt isolated. She'd wanted to leave and make a life in a place where she wasn't Joe Jensen's daughter—until she'd met Chris Russell and fallen in love with a guy who was staying.

“Let's not talk about it, for a while,” she suggested. “We could pretend there's nothing more important to discuss than chocolate pie recipes.”

“Whatever works for you.”

* * *

M
ANDY
 
WAS
 
GLAD
 
she'd had an evening with Susan, even if they'd stayed out late, going to the last show at the movie theater. Still, because of the lack of sleep, she was dragging the next afternoon during her meeting with Daniel in his office.

“But you don't understand what I'm saying,” Mandy told him, tapping a pencil on her notebook, where she'd written out various questions and concerns. “No one has raised the issue of water for years. That makes it hard for people to understand why there's suddenly a problem.”

“It
should
have been raised,” Daniel insisted. “I've seen the reports on how low the reservoir gets in a dry year. And there's also a water-quality issue when the reservoir is close to bottoming out.”

Mandy wrinkled her nose. “Maybe that explains why the stuff tastes bad sometimes, even when I use a water filter.”

Daniel made a notation in his file. “That could be a point we can use to help people understand the need.”

“I'm not looking for ways to convince people to support a water project, and don't you dare suggest I am.”

“That isn't what I said.”

“It's what you meant,” Mandy countered. “I think you only want people to understand something when you also want them to support it, or not to be in opposition.”

Mandy gulped the last of her coffee. She and Daniel had been sparring for an hour, and they hadn't come close to covering everything on her list.

“Do you really think that nothing should be done?” he asked.

“Not exactly, but—”

Daniel's smartphone rang. He glanced at the display and shifted uncomfortably, yet made no move to answer it.

“Go ahead,” she told him. “I need to run back to my office for a minute.” Since it was his cell, she figured it might be personal. And after all, they were working after regular work hours.

At her coffeemaker, she refilled her cup and loaded it with cream and sugar. Sometimes she took it black, but right now she needed something to cushion her acid stomach. It was close to six and there was no one else in the building. Perhaps she should suggest they pick this up another time. He had a daughter at home, and Joyce shouldn't have to wait to serve supper.

Daniel's raised voice suddenly made its way down the hallway. Wincing, Mandy couldn't avoid catching every word.

“Damn it, Celia, you promised her....Don't you want to see where your own daughter is now living?...No, I don't....I didn't say he couldn't come....It's her birthday. Can't you make that much effort?...Hell...Be sure of it.” His voice became sarcastic. “It's the least you can do, and I mean that literally.”

Mandy swallowed.

Not sure what she should do, she picked up her mug and walked slowly back to Daniel's office. He was standing, looking at the picture of his daughter, which he'd put in a central place along the polished wall of shelves.

“You heard that, didn't you?” he muttered.

“Yeah, but I was trying not to listen.”

“It was thoughtful of you to step out. Losing control was my own fault.”

She regarded him with unwilling sympathy, certain he wasn't the sort of man who easily admitted that he
could
lose control.

“I don't understand,” he murmured distractedly. “I just don't get it. How can a mother care so little about her own child?”

“There's no guarantee a woman will have the mothering instinct, but it must be rough on Samantha.”

“It is. Celia told Samantha that she'd come to help celebrate her birthday, but now she's just sending a gift, which I suspect will arrive late, if at all. I don't know how to explain it to my daughter.”

Poor kid.

Mandy hardly knew what to say. In fact, there wasn't anything
to
say. Words couldn't make it better. Even if she was part of the family—Samantha's aunt or something—she wouldn't be able to fix it. Mandy's stomach turned over. It always felt as if she ought to be able to take care of things for people and she felt rotten when she couldn't.

“I didn't push Celia to have a baby,” Daniel continued, almost to himself. “I wanted a child and she seemed to feel the same. But the older Samantha got, the less interest Celia seemed to have in her. Instead, Celia focused on her looks and designer clothing and what the ‘beautiful people' are doing.”

Mandy had experience with a disinterested mother. In her own way, Elenora Colson had lost interest in Mandy as it became more and more apparent that her daughter wasn't going to be a scientist or professor. Mandy had done well in school—she just didn't want to live in the rarified academic world her parents enjoyed.

“Was Samantha the kind of daughter your wife thought she'd have?” she asked. “If she isn't, then Celia might have trouble connecting because of it.”

He sighed heavily. “I suppose it's that as much as anything. Samantha
isn't
like her mother. She loves to read and draw, and she doesn't care much about clothing or how her hair is done. Well, except she
does
enjoy the Disney princesses.”

“Princesses have a perennial fascination for a lot of little girls, including tomboys. Um, I know it's none of my business, but has Samantha always been so timid?”

Daniel sighed. “Yes. I'm not sure why. I'm not even sure I can blame it on Celia's lack of interest.”

The clock in the City Hall tower began chiming the hour.

Daniel cocked his head. “At first I wasn't sure I appreciated having the clock ringing the Westminster chimes every hour, but I'm beginning to appreciate it.”

“I like it, too,” Mandy agreed, guessing he didn't want to discuss his family any longer. He was probably already kicking himself for saying so much; he seemed to guard his privacy. “But I grew up with the Westminster chimes, so I'm used to them. My folks had a wonderful old Swiss mantel clock and if it didn't ring within half a minute of the university's tower clock, they rushed it into the repair shop.”

Daniel chuckled. “Didn't it occur to them that the university's clock might be off, instead of theirs?”

“Apparently not, but I guess you have to have faith in something.”

He nodded and gestured toward the papers on his desk. “Do you want to continue this now, or wait for another day?”

“It doesn't matter to me. Mr. Spock doesn't care when I come home. Actually, I take that back. Cats are stalwart creatures of habit, but I haven't obliged, much to his displeasure. You're the one with family.”

“It's a moot point tonight. Joyce took Samantha into Vicksville to find some things she needs for school, and they're eating there. Why don't I order a pizza?”

“Sure. Make half of it a Mandy's Special.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Mandy laughed. “That's what they call it down at the pizza parlor. It isn't on the menu, but it's what I usually order. Chicken, bacon, mushrooms, olives and artichoke hearts, with extra sauce.”

“That sounds good. We'll make the whole pizza a ‘Mandy's Special.'”

A short while later, Mandy saw the sign on Shawn's car and ran out to meet him.

“Here's your change,” she said, coming back and dropping a handful of bills and coins on Daniel's desk.

He frowned. “I shouldn't get that much change.”

“I paid for half. Hope you don't mind that I tipped generously. Shawn's father is a pastor, and his family can't contribute much toward sending him through college, so he's saving like mad.”

“That's fine, but I planned to pay for all of it.”

“Coworkers are supposed to go Dutch.” Mandy opened the box and pulled out a steaming slice. “Mmm,” she breathed. “I haven't ordered one of these for weeks.”

* * *