“Why nursing,
dear?
It's a noble profession,
certainly, but I never knew you had an interest.”
After careful consideration, that seemed to
be the only question she had.
“Jack suggested
it.
I think it will be a good fit.
There will always be a need for nurses, even
in the country.”
She felt herself blush
at a sudden vision of Stani Moss stretched by the fire.
That would not escape Angela's notice, she
was sure.
“I see.
Good for Jack.
I know how well you took care of your
mother.
You have a gift, so calm and
patient.
You'll make a fine nurse.
And the farm, will you try to make it grow
things again?”
With a grin at
her suggestion, Emily nodded. “Pop would like that, don't you think?”
Settling back
in her chair, Angela smiled.
“I think
your father would be bursting with pride at what a strong daughter he
raised.
Don't you think so, Jack?”
“He wouldn't
have expected any less.”
Angela turned
her attention to her son, who was just coming out of the kitchen.
“Emily, dear, why don't you go say hello to
Joey?
And ask him to make cannoli for
all of us, will you please?”
It was only
after she had obeyed and was standing in the kitchen watching as Joey filled
the pastries, that Emily realized Angela had sent her away in order to have a
private word with Jack.
She let out a
little sigh of exasperation.
“What's up,
Em?”
Joey was focused on his work, but
he looked up with a grin.
“Oh,
nothing.
Your mom just used my weakness
for desserts to trick me.
She and Jack
are probably conspiring against me right now.”
Shrugging, she touched her finger into the creamy filling and raised it
to her tongue.
“They just want
what's best for you.
Mom worries about
you all the time.
She was sure you were
going to break an arm or leg, or worse, on that skiing trip.
I told her she was all worked up over
nothing.
You're too smart to do
something like that.”
Avoiding her gaze,
he completed his work, his face a deeper shade of red than usual.
Carrying the
tray of cannoli and coffee back to the table, Emily searched the smiling faces
that turned in greeting.
“Got my future
all settled now?”
There was a
definite gleam of satisfaction in Angela's eyes.
“I think so.”
On the drive
home, they discussed their brief visit to the nursing home.
It had been unusual, Jack admitted.
J.D. rarely said more than a few syllables,
but today he had spoken the same word, very clearly over and over.
At their arrival, he had looked questioningly
at both of them.
“Good?”
When Emily explained that she had been to the
farm for Christmas, he had looked pointedly at Jack.
“Good?”
Assured that it had indeed been good having her home, J.D. had smiled
and nodded his head.
“Good.”
“Do you really
believe he sent you home?”
Jack was
clearly reevaluating the situation.
“Yes!
Didn't you see that look in his eyes?
He was so smug, knowing he had manipulated
the whole thing.
Pop was always proud of
his powers of persuasion.”
Jack
chuckled.
“But he was no match for your
mother.
She could wind him around her
little finger.
That's another thing I
see in you that reminds me of her.
You
realize you won the day with Angela, hands down.”
“Did I?
I was afraid the two of you were going to
come up with some plot to change my mind.”
“Oh, no.
We just had a little talk, godparent
stuff.
We still have our jobs to do, no
matter how independent you think you are.”
Emily hesitated
for a moment.
“You told her about Stani
Moss, didn't you?”
Without
blinking an eye, Jack nodded.
“She
needed to know.
That was too big to keep
from her.”
When she didn't respond, he
went on, “Angela thinks you need to have more fun.
She plans to make sure you do, once you get
to Charlottesville.”
“I see.
Well, forewarned is forearmed.
But the kind of fun the Salvatores have, all
that yelling, I'd just as soon avoid.
I
love them all, but it can get really chaotic.
Poor Lil, no wonder she locks herself in her room and practices for
hours.”
“Just the same,
I agree you need to get out more.
Before
you tie yourself down and turn into a weathered old maid in dirty overalls, why
not give the opposite sex a chance?
You
might be surprised.”
He knew he was
doomed when she gave him a long, cool look and tossed her head.
“Really, Jack.
If a man is all you think I need to make me
happy, you seriously underestimate me.
And if Angela plans to play matchmaker, she'll be disappointed.”
Admitting
defeat, he held up one hand.
“Okay, have
it your way.
But I warn you, love
happens when you're least expecting it.
And nobody is immune.”
“Nobody,
Jack?
Not even you?”
“Nobody.”
Chapter Eighteen
John Kimble
completed his investigation in only two days and sat down with Milo to go over
the little he'd been able to learn outside of what the press had already
reported regarding Mark Stevenson's movements that night.
Stani had left the hotel with Betsy, driving
away in her borrowed car.
They had gone
straight to a private lodge in the mountains southwest of Washington, which had
been loaned for the evening to a popular rock and roll musician.
There was no indication that Stani had any
previous relationship with this person, who had a reputation for outrageous if
not quite criminal behavior.
Stani and
Betsy had arrived together; but from that point on, as far as he could
determine, Betsy had been seen exclusively in the company of Mark
Stevenson.
John had had difficulty
finding anyone who actually remembered seeing Stani during the party until he'd
talked with the caterer who'd been on hand.
The man's young daughter, a music student, had recognized Stani,
standing off to himself, and approached him.
They had talked for almost an hour, late in the evening.
In addition, John learned that the bartenders
recalled seeing Stani only once, when he had first arrived at the party.
No one recalled seeing the three leave
together, but the person Mark had traveled with to the party had already stated
that Mark told him he was returning to New York with a friend that night.
Unable to find
any other witnesses to Stani's movements, John could only speculate on what
might have happened.
Stani must have
gone to the party at Betsy's last-minute invitation.
Jana had been able to tell him that yes, she
recalled now that Stani had dated Betsy briefly.
John had easily found press photographs from
a year or more ago, showing the two making the rounds of clubs and parties
together.
His meeting
with the county sheriff, Jack Deem, had been helpful, if somewhat
surprising.
He had found Deem guarded,
although he had told John in detail of Stani's condition when he had discovered
him in the farmhouse.
As it turned out,
the woman who had taken Stani in from the storm was a mere girl of nineteen.
Sheriff Deem was her guardian, and he had gone
initially to check on what he believed to be an empty house.
He had been completely surprised to find the
two of them there.
The sheriff had
been reluctant to release the girl's name, saying she had no desire for
publicity.
Even when John had told him
there would be a substantial reward for her efforts, he had refused to give out
her address.
Milo drafted a
check, instructing John to forward it to the Sheriff's office.
He was wary of this girl, who must by now
realize the potential of her contact with Stani.
He enclosed a note, stating in broad terms
how grateful he was for her efforts on Stani's behalf and the value of her
discretion in the matter.
He was fully
prepared to hear more from this young woman in the future.
Perhaps she felt she had more to gain in
exchange for her silence than from the brief sensational press exposure.
He was sure he could deal with her when the
time came.
Chapter Nineteen
On New Year's
Eve, Emily packed away the Christmas decorations and gave the house one last cleaning.
She was just spreading the dust cover over
the piano when a late model car, sleek and shiny, drove through the gate.
From the window, she watched as Peter
McConnell emerged and walked toward the house.
Taken by surprise, Emily wondered what could have prompted this
visit.
They had talked briefly at the
parsonage, and she was sure she hadn't said anything to encourage him.
Quite the opposite, she had responded to his
suggestion that they might see more of one another in the summer with a cool,
“I'm sure we'll see each other in church.”
Blonde,
well-built and much more self-confident than she remembered from high school,
Peter was on a full football scholarship at a college in Georgia.
With his hair grown longer, and a winter tan
bronzing his good-looking face, he was very much the golden boy.
For a brief instant, Emily considered
pretending to be in the shower, or the barn, or anywhere she would not hear his
knock and have to answer the door.
But
in the end her curiosity and good manners won out.
Peter grinned
as she opened the door to him.
“Hi,
Em.
Hope I haven't come at a bad
time.
I just wanted to see you again
before I head back to school.
Can I come
in?”
She realized she'd been holding the
screen door handle.
“Sure.
I'm just cleaning house.”
As if he couldn't tell by the vacuum cleaner
in the middle of the floor.
And the
bandana she'd tied over her hair.
She
reached up and pulled it off, stuffing it in her pocket.
Peter held out
a long white envelope.
“Before I forget,
Sheriff Deem asked me to bring this out to you.
He had a call over to Mason and since I was coming. . .”
She took the
envelope, turning it over in her hands.
It was addressed simply with her name, “Miss Emily Haynes” in a large,
bold hand.
On the back, the flap was
embossed with a Manhattan street address.
Her throat tightened.
Whatever it
was, she wanted to be alone when she opened it.
Peter had
already seated himself on the couch, but she stood over him, anxious that he
not settle in for a visit.
“How's school?
Do you like it down South?”
That might be a safe topic.
Peter had always been a man of few
words.
She hoped sincerely that hadn't
changed.
Indeed,
although he seemed to want to linger, he had little to say.
After a few moments' discussion of warm winters
and winning football teams, he rose as if to leave.
“Emily, I meant
what I said about wanting to see you this summer.
And not just in church.”
He had stopped in front of her, putting a
hand on her arm.
When she stared at him,
one brow slightly arched, waiting for him to go on, he blushed.
“Dang, it, Em.
Why won't you give me a chance?”
“A chance at
what?”
“You know I've
always had feelings for you.
And not
just friendly feelings.
Couldn't you at
least try to like me a little?
Other
girls don't seem to find me so repulsive.”