Whirlwind (10 page)

“Not a thing,” he said, and smiled again.

* * *

L
IZA TOOK
the rattletrap pickup truck into town in hopes of catching her grandfather at Marge's Diner again. She wanted to extract a promise from him—a promise and a
few thousand dollars to fix up the lodge the way she thought it could be fixed.

She wished she could have convinced Cliff to come along. It was obvious that he needed more human contact. The guy really was a certifiable hermit! But she wasn't ready for another marathon argument. Unwillingly, she left him behind and drove into Tyler.

She stopped at the drugstore first and picked up some cold remedies and aspirin. The walk from the drugstore to the diner took her past the old Worthington House, a huge Victorian mansion that had been converted into a retirement home with nursing care for the more frail residents. As she walked along the sidewalk, she gave a tremendous sneeze.

“Bless you!” cried a voice from the screened porch.

“Thanks,” Liza called back, not breaking stride as she rounded the corner.

But she could not ignore the quick whispering voices that rose from the porch of Worthington House. They sounded as if they were arguing. At last, an elderly female voice cried, “Is that you, Mary Elizabeth?”

Liza stopped on the sidewalk and peered through the screens just a few yards away. She blew her nose loudly on a tissue and bellowed, “Who wants to know?”

Giggles erupted, and a more authoritative voice declared, “That's Liza Baron, all right. Come up here at once, young lady.”

Liza suppressed a smile and did as she was commanded. She recognized the voice as that of Miss Inger Hansen, a formidable woman who had taught a deportment class in Tyler for many years. Half the town lived in terror of Miss Hansen—all the girls who had been forced to attend her deportment class.

“Hello, Miss Hansen,” Liza said as she mounted the wide steps of Worthington House, unconsciously straightening her spine into the approved posture. “It's nice to see you.”

“Well, I can't see a thing,” snapped Miss Hansen. “Come closer!”

Liza obediently opened the screened door and let herself into the porch, where she found herself surrounded by a group of elderly ladies. She was surprised that they were already up and hard at work, all sitting in straight-backed rocking chairs and sewing at the small squares of a quilt. In a flash, Liza remembered the Tyler Quilting Circle, a group of women who had met on a weekly basis for decades to share gossip and create beautiful quilts—quilts that would be worth a fortune in any interior decorator's shop in the world now, but that were usually donated for church auctions or other worthy causes.

At Liza's arrival, all the ladies put down their sewing and examined her eagerly, some taking off their glasses and exclaiming over her appearance.

“Why, haven't you grown up tall and pretty!”

“Liza, I remember when you used to climb my apple trees and steal pumpkins out of my garden. Do you remember doing that?”

“Hello, Mrs. Bauer. Yes, I remember very clearly. Hello, Mrs. Phelps.”

“Hello, dear. Aren't you the image of your grandmother! What a beauty!”

Miss Hansen brought the cheery greetings to a halt by rapping her cane on the floorboards. She was an imperious woman of eighty-odd years with a commanding nose and a voice that overrode all the others—not surprising in a woman who had been hard of hearing for most of her life but refused any kind of hearing aid, claiming she didn't need such a thing. Other people should talk louder, was her argument.

“See here, young lady,” Miss Hansen demanded. “What's this we hear about you living up at Timberlake lodge with that horrible man?”

“What horrible man?”

The other ladies fell silent, but had the grace to turn pink at Miss Hansen's blunt attack. Miss Hansen did not notice their embarrassment. “That Vietnam person, of course.”

“Vietnam person?” Liza laughed. “His name is Cliff.”

Miss Hansen's thin brows lowered ominously over her small, dangerous eyes. “I don't care what his name is, miss. You shouldn't be visiting him.”

“I'm not visiting,” Liza said firmly. “I'm living at the lodge with him, as a matter of fact.”

The ladies gasped. Miss Hansen looked thunderous. “Living in sin, is that it?”

“Not at all. We happen to be living under the same roof at the moment, that's all. Why, I barely know the man.”

“Well, we know all about him, don't we, ladies? Rose, tell Liza what you saw last spring.”

Rose Atkins looked stricken at having been put on the spot. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “It wasn't last spring, Inger. It must have been four years ago, at least.”

Miss Hansen pounded her cane in frustration. “I don't care when it was! Tell her what you saw!”

“Oh, I'm sure it was nothing, Inger. I happened to be taking a breath of fresh air, Liza, and I must have surprised Mr. Forrester. It was very late at night, you see. He was...well, he was very upset—”

“Weeping,” Miss Hansen snapped. “That's what you said, Rose. He was sobbing like a baby.”

“Well, not that hard,” Rose said quickly. “He was walking around the park by himself and very upset, so I spoke to him, but he didn't seem interested in—”

“He ran away,” said Miss Hansen triumphantly. “That's what he did. Is that strange or not! I ask you! A grown man! Why, he's—”

“He's had a bad experience,” Rose said defensively. “I think he's just trying to get over that as best he can. I wondered if someone couldn't suggest a good therapist, but—”

“Therapist!” Miss Hansen snorted. “That nonsense is for weak sisters!”

“I haven't known Cliff very long,” Liza said sharply, “but I'm sure he's not a weak sister. He seems like a very nice person, as a matter of fact. I like him.”

“He could be very dangerous. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who poisoned my cat last year!”

“Inger,” said a very patient Rose Atkins, “that cat was nineteen years old. Nobody poisoned him.”

“Well, some evil person went around breaking windows once, remember that? I can guess who that culprit was!”

“Three teenage boys from Bonneville,” murmured Mrs. Bauer as she picked up her stitching again. “Honestly, Inger, I don't know why you're having such a hissyfit.”

“Hissyfit! Well, don't come crying to me when that man goes on a rampage and murders everyone in town—starting with this young lady right here!” Miss Hansen pointed one bony finger at Liza.

“I can take care of myself,” Liza snapped, patience lost. “But if he feels like murdering somebody, I can show him a place to start!”

The quilting ladies burst into giggles at that—all but Miss Hansen, who didn't realize whom the crack was aimed at. She glared at Liza, who marched off the porch with her head held high.

“Come back and visit us again, Liza!” called Rose Atkins.

“Bring us some chocolate next time!” cried another voice.

“Yes, and maybe a pizza pie!”

“Pizza?” Liza heard Miss Hansen demand. “Why in the world would you want to eat a pizza pie, Tillie?”

“Because they're spicy, Inger, and I like spicy things.”

“Well, don't come crying to me if it gives you gas,” said Miss Hansen.

Laughing, Liza strode down the sidewalk, heading for
the diner. She made a mental note to return to Worthington House soon. With chocolates and pizza for everyone.

She hoped she hadn't missed her grandfather, who undoubtedly left Marge's Diner at the same time every day to go to his office at the Ingalls plant just outside town. There Judson, a perpetual tinkerer, worked on new devices and formulas he hoped would help revolutionize the farming industry. Liza quickened her pace and arrived at the diner within a few minutes of nine o'clock.

She found Judson finishing his second cup of coffee and chatting with Marge.

“Back again, are you?” Marge asked, beaming. “More pancakes this morning, Liza?”

“How about a double orange juice and a muffin instead?” Liza asked as she slid into the chair opposite her grandfather.

“Coming right up,” said Marge, whisking away to fill Liza's order.

Judson took one impassive look at Liza and said, “What the hell happened to you?”

“I'm catching something,” she said, digging another tissue out of her jeans pocket. “A cold, maybe. Do I look that bad?”

“You look like you didn't get a wink of sleep.” Judson's face turned dark, and his pulse began to show in one of the veins in his forehead. “Did that Forrester fellow bother you, Mary Elizabeth? By God, I'll wring his neck with my own two hands if he—”

“Take it easy,” Liza said, reaching out to cover one of Judson's hands with her own. “Cliff left me completely alone.” Remembering her sudden itch to touch Cliff as he'd built the fire in the hearth, she made a face and added wryly, “Unfortunately for me.”

Judson looked alarmed at that. “What do you mean? Never mind, I don't want to know!”

Indulgently, Liza propped her elbows on the table and
asked, “What's the matter, Granddad? Don't you think your grandchildren have sexual urges now and then?”

Judson's stern countenance began to turn purple with rage. “I won't listen to that kind of talk from anyone—not even you! Why, I'll wash your mouth out with soap if—”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Cliff didn't bother me a bit, all right? I'm perfectly safe up at the lodge. I'm sure of that.”

“For the moment, anyway.”

Liza decided to ignore that dark remark. “I didn't come here to talk about Cliff, Granddad.”

“That's a relief. You're going to pay a visit to your mother, is that it?”

Liza sighed. “No, I'm not.”

“I mentioned to her that you were back in town, Mary Elizabeth.”

She froze and finally managed to say, “I wish you hadn't done that, Granddad.”

“You can't avoid her forever, you know.”

“I'm not avoiding her,” she said quickly. “I—I'm just waiting, that's all.”

“Waiting for what? The moon to turn blue? Listen to me, girl, you get your pretty backside down to the house this morning or you'll have to answer to me!”

“I'll go see her,” Liza promised sulkily. “But not this morning. I have too much to do.”

“Too much to do?” Judson repeated, on his guard at once. “Do I like the sound of that?”

“I think you will once I've told you everything.”

Marge arrived with Liza's orange juice at that moment, so Liza opened the paper bag of remedies she had picked up at the drugstore and began to outline her plans while she gulped pills. Judson listened to her without interrupting.

“I think it could be a wonderful resort, Granddad,” she said at last. “It'll be a real showplace once I've finished making it beautiful again. And if we decide not to run it
ourselves, the refurbishing will make it much more attractive to a buyer who
could
run it. What do you say?”

Judson was silent. His gaze had wandered away from Liza, and he appeared to be lost in thought.

At last Liza urged, “Say something, Granddad. Is it a horrible idea?”

“It's not horrible,” he said slowly.

“Well? Can you give me the money to get started?”

“It's just...”

Liza waited for him to collect his thoughts. It took a while, and she wondered what he was thinking. By the pained expression that flitted across his eyes, he obviously had mixed feelings.

Finally Judson shook his head wearily. “I have too many bad memories of Timberlake. It's hard for me to make a decision suddenly like this.”

“It's not sudden. You haven't used the lodge in ages. Why not let someone else enjoy it before it crumbles into dust?”

He considered that, then sighed and murmured, “Things don't always turn out the way you hope, do they?”

“What do you mean, Granddad?”

“Nothing.” He appeared to shake himself out of his reverie. “Go ahead and do what you like, Mary Elizabeth. I'll give you money as soon as you draw up a budget.”

“A budget?”

He grinned at her. “You don't expect me to hand over a blank check, do you? If you want this to be a job, you had better treat it like a job, my dear. I want numbers—cold hard figures—before you start spending a single penny of my money. And once we've agreed on a budget, there will be no overruns, you understand?”

“But—”

“No buts,” Judson announced. “If there's one thing I can teach you before I die, it's how to run a business with
out going broke. And from the sound of things, it's a lesson you need to learn.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“Yes, I have one more demand.”

Liza steeled herself to argue with him. “Granddad, I am perfectly safe at the lodge with Cliff. I refuse to move out just because you're afraid he might—”

“I'm not going to tell you where to live,” Judson interrupted. “You say you can take care of yourself, and I assume Cliff Forrester can handle
you
if you get too aggressive, so—”

“Granddad!”

“So I'm going to give you a different order. I want you to go visit your mother. At once. Got that?”

L
IZA DISOBEYED
.

She checked on her car at Carl's garage, then drove the pickup back to the lodge without going to see her mother. She stopped at the grocery store instead, spent more of Judson's money and headed back to Timberlake with enough food to last several days.

Liza pushed all thought of her mother out of her head. She had more important things on her mind. Fixing up Timberlake was a designer's dream, after all! Her brain seethed with ideas to make the place spectacular. It would be the envy of every designer in the world when she was finished.