"Those sets will be auctioned later," a plump woman in a denim jumper, standing in the doorway, spoke up.
"Thanks," Burke said. He let Keely precede him into the dining room with its faded carpet and curtainless windows. Yellowed linens in open boxes lined the walls. Keely knelt and began picking through the starched tablecloths and napkins. Burke stood behind her, observing her intense concentration on these everyday items. Keely was enjoying this tag sale and auction. It had obviously taken her mind off her father's unkindness. He thought about his own parents. Burke hadn't appreciated his mom's pressuring him to take Nick with him. He hadn't liked facing up to his own sin of neglecting his family, but his mother had been right, he realized now.
However, Franklin Turner had been wrong. But then Turner had been wrong about the shooting case too. His not handing over the bullets upon request and then blocking the search warrant had only cast more guilt over his son, not less. You're not as smart as you think you are, Turner.
"I wonder if they have sheets and pillowcases," Keely asked, looking around.
"Some are on the opposite wall. More upstairs." The same woman motioned to more boxes. "Here's a bag you can fill up."
Burke accepted the paper shopping bag from the local grocery, and Keely filled it with an embroidered tablecloth, matching napkins, and several embroidered hand towels. Then she went to the other side of the room and picked out sheets and pillowcases, edged in hand-tatted lace.
"I see this all the time," the woman who'd helped them said. "People save the best they have and for what? For strangers to buy after they're dead. All this beautiful handwork, yellowing with age wrapped in tissue in drawers. I bet she never let herself enjoy it." The woman shook her head.
"Don't worry," Keely promised. "I intend to use it and enjoy it."
Enjoy it. His mind repeated those words, and he realized he was taking pleasure in today, something he hadn't done in a long, long time. He didn't feel he deserved it though. On the other hand, Keely merited carefree days like this more often. And she deserved a man who could give her this and his love.
I deserve to be alone
. A bitter taste came into his mouth. Memories of failure to be there when Sharon needed him always came back to haunt him. Masking this, he led Keely toward the staircase in the hall.
"Thank you." She gave him one of her dazzling, staggering smiles.
And his guilt melted.
Good feelings filled him. He couldn't help himself. He drew her a few inches closer and took her arm as they walked up to the second floor landing. She smiled at him again. He tried to stem the warm and unusual tide this unleashed but failed. It carried him along, and each time she smiled it crested higher.
By the time Burke walked down the front steps to the woman at the folding table, he carried paper and plastic grocery bags filled with linens, knickknacks, books, some samplers, and old framed photographs and prints. After setting down the large box she also carried, Keely beamed at the woman and paid the modest sum tallied for the items.
Though still keeping her at arm's length, Burke relished Keely's happy mood.
As they walked back from stashing her finds inside her SUV, Keely enthused, "I've never been to a sale like this. Only to antique shops and they aren't fun like this. It's like a treasure hunt."
Burke chuckled dryly. "Watch it. Tag sales and auctions can be addicting. My sister and my mom go out once a week—rain, snow, or shine."
"Really?"
"Time for the auction!" a voice yelled.
Keely and Burke hurried back to the area in front of the barn. A distinguished-looking gentleman with white hair whom Burke assumed to be Colonel Bouchard stood on a platform there and explained the rules of the auction and the instructions about payment.
Burke settled himself, leaning against the open barn door. He was all too aware of people looking at them and their glances said exactly what Burke felt. Keely Turner was too good for him. Unaware, Keely, looking keyed up, stood just in front of him. Then with a tap of the colonel's gavel, the auction began.
After losing out on several bids, Keely won one of the antique, painted-iron double bedstead. Next, she bargained doggedly for a bird's-eye maple dresser and matching vanity with its trifold mirrors and a matching chair. The other bidders glared at her.
Burke stood beside her, drawn irresistibly in by her animation and intensity. The items were coming fast and furious now: an antique hurricane lamp, a copper bed warmer, and ornate sterling silver tableware, then china. And the bidding was getting hotter. Colonel Bouchard rattled off, "One hundred—make it a hundred and fifty— make it two. Hep. Hep."
The oak dining room set with a round table, leaf, and six chairs was brought forward by Shane and Nick, who had somehow become part of the auction process. The bidding started at two hundred and fifty dollars, but was soon up to twice that. Keely hung on until she won it.
"Sold for nine hundred dollars! To the lovely lady in the plaid shirt!"
Flushed with the thrill of success, she beamed at Burke.
From behind them came an envious voice laced with resentment. "That's Turner's kid. Showing off. Spending her dad's money."
Keely froze.
Red hot anger scorched Burke inside; he pulled her closer beside him. For one cent, he'd have punched the guy.
Keely leaned against him, her fine hair against his cheek. It was bad enough that
he'd
overheard the slam. This kind of talk always seemed to hurt her. Did she realize that she was highly regarded by most people around here? Did she realize that this was only spiteful envy talking? He turned to give everyone behind him a warning look. Few were able to meet his gaze. Why did people think they should say things like that about Keely?
Burke had yet to hear anyone say anything good about Franklin Turner. From what Burke had learned about the man, crossing him was dangerous. Were the snide comments pointed at Keely a result of the resentment people felt toward Turner but were unable to express?
Keely gave of herself to the county constantly. They ought to be ashamed of taking hard feelings toward her father out on her. Burke gave her a squeeze of assurance. Then another thought pinched him. She didn't need to hear any more snide comments about how he was chasing her for her money either. He released her
The rest of the auction went by quickly. Keely ended with enough to fill up three vehicles. They had two, Harlan's and Keely's. They'd need to find help. While working with Shane, Nick helped lift heavy items and load them into cars and trucks for others. Waiting her turn, Keely and Burke inspected the cluster of items she'd bought: the bedroom furniture, the dining room set, the Arts and Crafts floor lamp, the painted hurricane lamp, a pie safe, a primitive bench, and bookshelves. She'd done well for herself. He watched her admiring her purchases and was glad her father's holding up her furniture hadn't stopped her.
We showed you, Turner.
Finally, Nick was done helping Shane who offered to deliver some of Keely's stuff too. He and Burke lifted the first batch of Keely's heavy antiques onto Harlan's truck. "They sure made this stuff to last," Burke gasped with a grin as they lifted the iron bed frame up the final foot into the truck bed. Then Burke and Nick helped heft more of Keely's items into Shane's truck.
By then, the crowd had thinned to very few. The auctioneer Colonel Bouchard came over and shook Keely's hand. He gave her his card and said he'd notify her when he was called to the county to do another auction. Burke listened with dry amusement as the colonel also offer to load the rest of her items on his own truck and deliver them as soon as he'd settled the take with the attorney. Keely thanked him but refused. Burke smiled aa the colonel went into the house.
Keely turned to him. "Let's go. I can't wait to see all this in my new home."
Night was gently dimming day's light. Burke stood beside Keely as they gazed out her windows overlooking the lake. Over an hour ago, Nick had driven Harlan home. Alone, Keely and Burke watched the lavender smudges and tawny gold darken into autumn evening. A day with Keely had lowered his resistance to her even more. He longed to put his arm around her shoulders, pull her close and .... He shoved his hands safely into his jeans pockets.
"I can't believe this is mine," she whispered. "I can't believe that I'll be able to come to this quiet place every evening and watch the sun set each night."
Her voice set off a yearning inside him. He'd spent the day with her, and everything about her had opened wide doors to feelings he'd long forgotten.
"I guess I better be going." His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He turned, secretly wishing, secretly wishing she'd ask him to stay.
Instead, she followed him to the door. "I can't thank you and Nick and Harlan enough for your help today."
"Don't mention it." He dragged on his denim jacket and paused at the open door. So much threatened to simmer up from inside him—
"I wouldn't have missed this special day for the world." Without warning, Keely leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. A million times—thanks."
In a rush, his resistance gave way. He tangled his hand into the back of her hair and pressed his lips to hers. He drew her closer and deepened his kiss, losing himself in the smoothness of her skin, the silky softness of her hair.
She sighed against him.
The sound snapped him back to reality. With reluctance, he released her. He touched her cheek and then stepped outside her door, cursing his weakness. He jogged to his Jeep. In his rearview mirror, he glimpsed her standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself—watching him
What was she thinking?
What was I thinking?
When Burke's Jeep disappeared around her stand of pines, Keely finally closed the door. Waves of shock, sensation swirled through her. He kissed me.
Ring. The sound of her phone brought her back. Ring. She hurried to her purse and pulled her cell phone out."Hello."
"I'm sorry," Burke apologized gruffly. "I had no right. Forgive me ... it won't happen again."
"Burke—"
He broke the connection.
She pressed her fingers to her lips and then her palm to her jaw line where she still felt Burke's roughened cheek that had grazed hers. The truth glimmered, and she spoke into the silence. "But I wanted your kiss all day, Burke."
On the following Saturday night, sundown hugged the sky, trailing magenta. Keely sat beside Burke on a hardwood bleacher on the home team side of the crowded LaFollette Steadfast football field. But they might as well have been on opposite sides of the county.
He'd greeted her formally and said that the sheriff thought he should sit with her at the games from now on so everyone would be aware that she and the sheriff's department were working together. A daunting speech. More so, after he kissed her, apologized, and then didn't call her all week.
Only feet away, the charred bleachers were still roped off—unusable. This didn't look good for her school in front of the competing team and fans, but what could she do?
And what should she make of this man's kissing her and then distancing himself from her? It was hard not to take it personally. In fact, impossible.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted her brother moving through the stands. Why? She was sitting halfway up so she couldn't see what was going on behind her or too far to either side. Evidently, Grady realized this. What was her brother up to now? Grady, just sit down and watch the game.
Too aware of Burke, she couldn't stop herself from trying to read his expression. But he had put the shutters up again. She stopped herself before she touched her lips. She'd found herself doing this once or twice already this week, thinking of Burke and touching her lips.
The fall breeze cooled her bare ankles. In spite of all her efforts, football remained an enigma to her. A glance at the scoreboard told her that the teams were tied and that the game was in its third quarter. The scent of hot buttered popcorn filled the air. She put a smile on her face.
Far below to her left, she glimpsed Grady's fair head. He was changing places in the stands—again.
Her parents had finally come home from California. Grady had managed to stay out of trouble while they were gone. That is, if he hadn't started the fire in the bleachers last week. Anyway, her parents were lauding this stretch of good behavior as proof that their decision to have him finish high school in LaFollette was working. Now her mother was busy filling out applications to colleges with low enough standards to admit Grady but with high enough tuition to please her.
"Hey, Turner!" the McCracken woman yelled. "Guess your brother must not be much of a man. He never made the team! At least when your dad was in high school, he liked to break heads on the field and off !"
Veda McCracken had parked herself high in the bleachers behind Keely and Burke as though she didn't want them to miss any of her "performance." Keely didn't even bother to look over her shoulder.
The unpleasant woman had turned up more grimy and disheveled tonight than she had been at Ma and Bruno's reception. Why did she make it a point to attend each home game?
"Can't you run any faster than that, Blackfeather?" Veda bellowed as Shane, the LaFollette quarterback, was tackled and stopped.
"Shut up, you old biddy!" Shane's grandfather shouted back at Veda, putting into words all the angry glances cast toward the woman.
"Hey, hot shot deputy, how come your nephew isn't on the team?" Veda countered.
Keely gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep her eyes focused on the field. She wondered why Veda had brought this up when farther down and to their left, Nick sat on the team bench for the first time.
The coach had mentioned in passing yesterday that though Nick had come too late to make the team, he'd decided to let him practice with the team for the remainder of the year. She didn't doubt that Shane had talked to the coach on Nick's behalf.