“I’ll accept your apology, if you explain to me what that was all about.”
He’d run a hand through his hair and taken a long breath before he’d answered her. “It goes back a long way. I just don’t want him around you. I just don’t trust him. I haven’t since Rita…” He’d cut himself off, but not before she’d picked up on that.
“Since Rita what?”
He’d started to turn away. She’d put a hand on his arm to stop him and had asked, “Steve, since Rita what? Are you saying you think he had something to do with her disappearance?”
“Maybe. I’ve got no proof. I just…” he’d felt backed into a corner. “I really don’t want to dredge all that up, okay?”
“Okay. Fine,” she’d said, turning back to the washing machine and turning the dial.
“Have dinner with me tonight?” he’d asked.
She’d turned and looked at him, surprised. “I don’t know. I…”
“Please.”
“Alright,” she’d finally relented.
Now, here they were. He got out of the truck, came around, and opened the door for her. She stepped out, took his hand, and smiled. That had to be a good sign, right? He squeezed her hand.
They entered the restaurant. It was an old fashioned Italian place with checkered tablecloths and candles stuck in wine bottles wrapped in wicker. They were shown to a table. Steve pulled her chair out for her. The waitress handed them each a menu and described the evening’s specials. Steve ordered a bottle of wine.
“This is a cute place,” Summer said, looking around.
“Yeah, and the food is great.”
“Well, it smells delicious in here, that’s for sure.”
They studied each other a moment.
“Thanks for coming,” Steve said.
“It’s nice to get out.”
“And the company?”
“That remains to be seen.” She smiled.
The waitress returned with the wine. Steve poured them each a glass.
Summer opened her menu and perused the selections. “What’s good?”
“Everything,” he replied.
“You’re no help.” She gave him a look over the top of the menu, the corners of her mouth pulling up.
He gave her an answering smile.
The waitress came back, and they placed their orders. Summer took a sip of wine, looking around. Steve picked up his glass and studied her. She was making a real effort to be, if not forgiving, at least tolerant. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he’d be damned if he’d complain.
She looked back at him. “What?” she asked, setting down her glass.
“Nothing.” He took another sip of wine. “Have you had any memory return yet?”
She looked down and ran her finger around the base of the glass absently. “No. Nothing yet.”
“Maybe you’re working too hard,” he speculated, studying her.
She smiled. “Why? Do I have dark circles under my eyes or something?”
“No. Your eyes are beautiful.”
She took a sip of her wine. “Steve?”
“Yes?”
“My staying with you…” she paused.
Steve studied her. She appeared to be searching for how to say what she wanted to say. “What about it?”
“I know you probably expected my memory to have returned by now, and, well, actually so did I. At least I had hoped so, but…well it hasn’t, and…”
Steve just stared at her, not sure where she was going with this. “And?”
“And, well, maybe it’s time I left. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Steve was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “No. Summer, I like having you here. I don’t want you to leave. Actually…I dread the day you get your memory back,” he admitted.
Summer looked at him with shock. “What?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just dread the day you…” he paused, sucking in a deep breath, then continued, “the day you leave us.” She stared at him, and then reached for her wine glass, her eyes darting everywhere but at him. Watching her avoid his eyes, he wondered if he’d revealed too much of his feelings. Perhaps she didn’t feel the same way. “Maybe we should check back with the Sheriff tomorrow. See if he’s got any leads. I have a tractor to fix tomorrow, but after that-”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I have to go to town tomorrow anyway to pick up some groceries. I’ll just stop on the way.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? I could have Cary fix the-”
Summer cut him off harshly. “No, Steve! I said I’d do it.”
“Okay,” he conceded. Taking a sip of wine, he studied her over the rim. Shit. He’d fucked up again. He put the glass down. “I’m sorry, Summer. I didn’t mean to-”
“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s just…” she paused, looking down. “It’s just that sometimes I feel like everyone is treating me like I’m a child. I lost my memory, but I’m not mentally impaired.”
“Summer, I don’t think that. None of us do. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that. I just…I guess I just like taking care of you. It makes me feel good.”
She nodded. “It’s okay. Let’s just drop it.”
The waitress brought their food, and Steve refilled their glasses. “I sold a car,” he said, changing the subject.
“You did? Oh, Steve, that’s wonderful. Which one?” She leaned forward, excited.
He smiled, took a forkful of linguini, and washed it down with a sip of wine. “The ’56 Chevy.”
“The pretty red one?”
“Yup. The buyer is supposed to pick it up tomorrow. I wish I had the hood ornament for it, but…” he shrugged his shoulders.
Summer took a bite of chicken piccata. “So, how do you advertise? Do you run an ad in the paper or what?”
“I put it on the internet.”
Summer looked up. “The internet? I didn’t think you even knew how to use it. You don’t have a computer in your office.”
“I don’t. I’m as computer illiterate as they come.” He grinned.
“Then how?”
“Jessie does it for me on her laptop.”
“Ahh. Get the younger generation to do it for you. I see.”
“Hey, whatever works.”
They finished their plates, and the waitress offered coffees and dessert. Summer ordered a cappuccino, and Steve got an Italian coffee. They split an order of tiramisu. “Hmm, this is so good.” Summer slid the fork out of her mouth, savoring the dessert.
Steve smiled glad she was enjoying it. “Are you going to hog it all?”
She grinned and held out a forkful to him. Their eyes met as he took the bite. He slowly swallowed.
She pulled away.
“Delicious.”
She looked up. “Yes, it’s a very good dessert.”
“Yeah, that, too,” he said, winking at her.
She smiled and took a sip of her cappuccino.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day, Summer drove into town. She stopped to pick up a few things from the grocery store. Then she headed to the Sheriff’s office. She parked and got out. There were two patrol cars parked out front.
Entering the glass doors, she looked around. It was a very small office. There were three desks in the open common room, another smaller office to the side, and a door in the back that she assumed led to some type of lock-up facility.
The sound of someone talking on the phone drifted to her from the smaller side office. She moved to its doorway. An officer looked up, saw her, and then told someone he would call him back. He hung up the receiver and stood. “You’re the lady with the amnesia, aren’t you?”
Summer smiled, admitting, “Yes, that’s me.”
He gestured to a chair. “Please, come in. Sit down.”
She took a seat, resting her purse on her lap.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” he offered.
“Oh, no. Thank you.”
The officer came around and sat on the corner of the desk. Summer had to look up at him. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Deputy Wilcox.” He extended his hand.
Summer shook it. His grip was a little too strong, she thought.
“So, have you been able to remember anything about your accident or anything else?” he asked, still holding her hand and studying her face intently.
Summer finally pulled her hand away. “No. No, I haven’t. I was wondering if you’d been able to find out anything.”
“No, ma’am. We issued bulletins to all the counties in the state and to the surrounding states. I handled it myself.” He smiled at her. “But, nothing has turned up yet.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. I’ve been checking all the missing person reports every morning, but so far there’s been nothing that fits your description. Kids, mostly.”
“I see.” She nodded her head and looked down a moment. “Well, I guess I should go then.” Not sure what else to do, she stood up.
The deputy stood and followed her out the office door. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Something will turn up soon. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, thank you.” Summer turned, walked out the glass doors, and into the parking lot.
The deputy crossed his arms and smiled.
On her way back through town, Summer passed Justin’s Garage. On impulse, she braked and pulled into the lot. Parking the old truck, she got out. The bay doors were open, so she walked inside. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. She spotted Justin bent over the engine of an old station wagon. A teenaged boy was helping him.
“Whoa,” the boy muttered, looking up.
Justin glanced over his shoulder to see what the kid was looking at.
Summer walked toward them. She was wearing tight fitting jeans and a white tank top. Her long hair was down, held back by a pair of sunglasses. Justin straightened up, smiling. He looked over and whacked the boy in the chest. “Close your mouth, son. You’re drooling.”
“Good morning,” she greeted them with a bright smile. “Is this the famous Billy I’ve heard so much about?”
“Ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his ball-cap.
“Looks like we’re out of luck, kid. I don’t see any brownies,” Justin observed, turning to Billy.
“No. No brownies today. Sorry,” Summer confessed.
“Hey, Billy. Take a break, huh?”
Billy looked at Justin blankly. “Huh? Oh, ah, sure thing, boss.” He headed back toward the office.
When he was gone, Justin crossed his arms and leaned back against the car. “So, what brings you here? Not that I’m complaining.”
She smiled. “I was actually stopping to see if you had a part or knew where I could get one.”
His eyes skated past her to the old pickup. “You having trouble with that old truck?”
“No. No, it’s not for the pickup.”
“What then?” he frowned.
“I’m looking for the hood ornament of a ’56 Chevy. It’s a gift for someone. I was just wondering if you would know where I could find something like that.”
Justin studied her a moment. “Actually, I do.” He unfolded his arms, pushing off the car and walking back toward his workbench. Summer followed him over, carefully sidestepping tools and engine parts as she did. Justin was opening drawers to a tall red tool cart. On the third drawer down, he pulled out something. He held it up.
She studied the funny looking chrome item. “Wow. What is that?”
“Well, it looks kind of like a jet, except the nose of the plane is an eagle’s beak. Pretty unique, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Justin held the part up in his hand, studying it. “So, you’re lookin’ to buy this?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Uh-uh. Forget it honey. It’s not for sale.”
“Why not?” she asked, confused.
“Because you want it for Steve,” he stated and watched her expression. He could tell that she didn’t understand. “Look, call me immature, petty, spiteful or whatever other nice little adjectives you care to come up with, but anyway I can make that motherfucker’s life miserable,” Justin jabbed a finger angrily toward the general direction of the old pickup and finished, “I’ll do it.”
He turned to put the part back.
Summer was taken aback by his attitude and a little pissed off at his vulgarity in speaking to her. So, she bit back, “Does that include murdering his wife?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She realized immediately that she’d made a big mistake. Justin turned slowly to look at her, and she could see the shock on his face.
“You can leave anytime,” he replied in a tight voice.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. It’s not like me to throw accusations at people.”
“Considering where you’re staying, I guess I should have expected this from you, but I didn’t. Summer, I sure didn’t.” Justin turned back to the tool chest. “So, what stories did they fill your pretty head with? Did Steve tell you that crap? That he thinks I killed Rita?”
“Did you?” she asked to his back.
“Did I what?” he replied over his shoulder. “Kill her? Hell no, I didn’t kill her! I could never have done that.” His voice dropped an octave and cracked. “I loved her,” he finished softly.
Summer’s mouth parted with a small, stunned gasp.
He finally turned back to her with eyes glazed with tears. “Does that shock you?”
“Yes.”
“Rita and I knew each other in high school.”
“You dated?”
“No, we more than dated. We were a couple. Had been for most of high school. I always figured we’d end up married someday,” he explained, returning to a vehicle and bending over it, he began working on the engine.
Summer followed him. “What happened?”
“What happened? Steve happened. From the moment he came to town I suppose the writing was on the wall.”
“Tell me about it, please,” Summer whispered softly.
Justin straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “It was the summer before our senior year. That was the year Steve and his mom came to live with Pop on the farm.”
“Yes, Pop told me how Steve came to live here.”
“Steve was pretty pissed about it at first. I mean, about having to move from a big city, out here to the country, and having to leave all his friends, everything he knew. He didn’t take it too well. And he didn’t take to farming right off, I can tell you that.”
“You’d never know he wasn’t born and raised on that farm, the way he is now,” Summer replied, staring off.
“Well, back then,” Justin raised his eyebrows and continued, “He gave Pop and everybody else a hard time. We became friends, despite his pissy attitude. I was kind of persistent. I guess I have that effect on people sometimes.” He looked at her meaningfully.