A Week From Sunday (21 page)

“As well as manners,” she said firmly.

“You cut me to the quick!” He feigned pain, bringing both his hands to his heart. “I think that you’ve mistaken me for the type of common folk who attend taverns and sing-alongs. Actually, my reason for interrupting your shopping is that I have an . . . interest in you.”

“What?”

“Maybe that isn’t the way to put it, not exactly, anyhow,” he tried to explain. “Maybe the better way to phrase it would be to say that I have an interest in your welfare.”

As if she were back in the sweltering attic, Adrianna’s stomach roiled.
Could this be another one of Lola’s henchmen?
Without any hesitation or another word, she snatched the bar of soap off the shelf and hurried toward the counter.

“Did you find everything you needed?” Mr. Comstock asked as she dropped the soap on the counter with a loud thud. It came to rest next to a newspaper emblazoned with the headline “Babe Ruth Retires from Baseball.” Adrianna hardly saw it, her mind was still a jumble.

“Yes. Thank you,” she answered with a weak smile.

“That will be twelve cents.”

As she dug the coins out of her purse, Adrianna threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Dewey was standing right where she had left him, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her every move. The look on his face wasn’t one of anger, but of amusement.

She thanked the clerk, snatched up the sack, and headed for the front door. Choosing another aisle from the one that Dewey occupied, Adrianna hurried on her way. She never so much as glanced up at him, but as she passed him, she caught him moving beside her out of the corner of her eye.

He’s following me!

Opening the mercantile door, its small bell jingling, she scooted through and began to hurry down the boardwalk when he once again said something that froze her in place.

“How well do you know Quinn Baxter?”

Rather than fear, it was anger that swelled in Adrianna’s breast. From the moment her father had died, she had been tossed and turned through life as if she were nothing more than a ship lost at sea. From Richard Pope to Quinn Baxter to Lola and now to Dewey Fuller, it had all been the same. Everyone she met seemed to know the answers to the questions she didn’t even know she should ask.
No more!

“What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you how well you know the man in whose house you are now staying,” Dewey explained as he once again approached her, but she was not afraid. Being out in public somehow made it easier for Adrianna to be around him. “It seems to me that you’re being quite trusting of someone you know next to nothing about.”

“He’s been very much a gentleman to me,” she said with some conviction.

“He’s no saint.”

“And I suppose you are?”

“I hardly think I would qualify.” Dewey chuckled. “I’d like to fancy myself as more of a businessman than someone who would stand behind a pulpit and preach. But this isn’t a discussion about me, is it? This is about Quinn.”

“You’ll have to pardon me, Mr. Fuller, but it seems that you like to speak in riddles,” Adrianna said defiantly. Her first impression of the man had been wrong; it was Quinn he was interested in instead of her, although neither proposition made her very comfortable.

“The only riddle I can see is why a woman like you would involve herself with a man like Quinn.”

“How do you know what kind of woman I am?”

“It’s easy, you’ve got breeding written all over you.”

I don’t need to explain myself to this man!
Setting her back straight and holding her head high, she said simply, “I don’t know you, and I resent your familiarity.”

“And that, my dear Miss Moore,” Dewey said syrup-sweet, a toothy grin spreading across his face, “is what makes you as different from Quinn Baxter as a queen is from a peon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What if I were to tell you that Quinn is on the verge of losing not only the Whipsaw but his father’s beloved home as well? Would any of that truly surprise you?”

“That’s Mr. Baxter’s personal business and none of mine,” Adrianna said sharply.

“It honestly doesn’t shock me that he wouldn’t tell you any of this,” Dewey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Why would he? After all, a beautiful woman like you doesn’t come into a man’s life every day, especially in a pissant town like this one. He would certainly have been afraid that you would think less of him.”

Adrianna’s head reeled. It was as if the storm that had brought her to this town had been reborn around her, although instead of rain, wind, and lightning there were now the lives of Quinn, Jesse, Lola, and even Dewey Fuller buffeting her from all sides.

“From outward appearances, he certainly has designs on you,” Dewey continued. “He’s taken a complete stranger into his house and given you a place to work. He’s even got Delmar working on your automobile. Maybe I was wrong . . . maybe he is a saint after all.”

The way that Dewey described what had happened made her angry. It was far more complicated than he made it seem.
Even if what the dapper man is saying about Quinn owing money is true, it is no business of mine.

“Why are you concerned by any of this?”

“I’m concerned for your welfare, not Quinn’s,” he said, taking another step in her direction. He was right before her, his blue eyes staring down into her own. Even though his dress and speech were cultured, there was something about his eyes that was calculating. In that instant, she knew Dewey Fuller was not the type of man she would want for a friend. “If there is one thing that you should be aware of, Miss Moore, my family and I are very well respected in this town.”

“What’s the point of telling me?” she asked impatiently.

“Because generosity has its limits,” he answered matter-of-factly. “My father and I don’t think the Whipsaw is any place for a refined young lady.”

“Your father?”

“Is the man who bought up Quinn’s loan from the bank to keep that fleabag of a tavern open,” Dewey said, providing the answer to her question. “I told him that he would regret the offer, but what’s done is done. He was willing to look past the lateness of his repayment, but no longer.”

“That’s between Quinn and your father. It has nothing to do with me.”

With that, Adrianna turned to walk away from Dewey Fuller. She’d had as much strife as she could stomach for one day. Before she could even take two steps, however, he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. As her eyes met his, she was shocked by the venom in them. Clearly, he was a man who was rarely rejected.

“It would be best not to walk away from me again,” he sneered.

“Let go of my arm,” she demanded.

“You’re mistaken if you think you have no role to play in all of this, my dear.”

“Get away from me,” she snapped.

“You are going to march back to Quinn, and tell him that you’re not going to lower yourself any longer to playing the piano in the Whipsaw,” Dewey ordered. His hold on her arm seemed to tighten with every word.

“Why do you care?”

“That’s none of your business. Just do as I say.”

With her face inches from Dewey’s, her eyes were drawn to a thin, pink scar that ran down the left side of the man’s face. With the anger flushing his face, the mark’s tissue flushed a dark shade and appeared to leap out at her. Try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Take a good, long look,” he ordered, seeing her gazing at the scar on his face.

Momentarily embarrassed, Adrianna stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . . to stare.”

“The next time you’re with your vicious friend, Quinn Baxter, ask him how I came to have that scar,” he spat. “Ask him about what he did to me . . . what can never be repaired! See if he’s as generous with the truth as he is when he’s in bed with you!”

A new wave of anger washed over her. What was he insinuating? What did he mean? Before she could retort, he released her arm and moved away. As he did, the sack of soap slid from her grasp and landed hard at her feet. Her arm throbbed and ached where his hand had held her tightly. She could only stare as the man stalked away.

Chapter 18

I
F
A
DRIANNA HADN
’
T
actually experienced all that had happened to her, she knew it would be difficult to believe it was real. All through dinner, she’d waited for the opportunity to tell Quinn that she’d been locked in the attic. He had been his normal self, joking about his day at the lumber mill with Jesse, not in the least aware of the turmoil that roiled within her. Lola’s sickeningly sweet act returned during the meal, although Adrianna could see a coldness lying just beneath the surface. As for herself, she had been mostly silent, speaking only when spoken to.

“Quinn, I was locked in the attic today,” she finally blurted out.

“Locked in the attic?” he said disbelievingly.

“Yes. Locked in the attic.” Adrianna looked up from her plate. Quinn was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He had a deep scowl on his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said angrily. “I had to break down the door to get out. It was damned hot up there, as you well know,” she said looking at Lola.

“Don’t tell me about it. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then who did? It wasn’t Jesse. He doesn’t go upstairs.”

Quinn was looking from one woman to the other. Adrianna’s face was set in angry lines.

“The wind could have blown it shut.” Color had crept up Lola’s neck to cover her face.

“I suppose the wind could have locked it, too,” Adrianna said sarcastically.

“Are you saying I shut you in there?” Lola demanded.

“Yes, I’m saying you shut me up there. You even put Cowboy out so he wouldn’t hear me.”

“Quinn,” Lola said, her tone soft and gentle, “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I heard some banging on a door.” Jesse had helped himself to jelly, which he spread on his bread. “I had the radio on, and I thought the sound was coming from it.”

Quinn got to his feet. “Come out on the porch, Annie. I want to speak with you.”

Lola gave her a triumphant look as she passed.

Adrianna stepped out the front door to stand on the long porch. From far away she heard the mournful sound of a train whistle. It was a beautiful night; stars twinkled brightly in the sky, a dog howled in the distance, and a gentle breeze cooled an otherwise humid atmosphere. Even with all of that to marvel at, she was glad the day was coming to an end.

Adrianna spoke softly: “This night reminds me of those I spent with my aunt.”

“How so?”

“When my mother passed away, her sister—my aunt—came to stay with my father and me. It was a way to make the loss a little less painful for both of us,” Adrianna explained. “One night, she took me out into the country to the south of the city so that I could look up at all the stars in the sky. Living in Shreveport, I’d never imagined there could be so many. She told me they were jewels twinkling only for me. I was just nine at the time, so I believed her.”

“Your aunt sounds like a smart lady,” Quinn said with a chuckle.

“She is,” Adrianna agreed. “When I was still quite young, she told me that her love of the outdoors was the reason she left Louisiana and went to Mississippi. The man that she had fallen in love with was a lot like her. He had a small farm with horses, so even though it was a long way from home, she left to be with him.”

“Mississippi, huh? Was that where you were headed?”

Adrianna could only nod.

It was hard to believe that it had only been a few short days since she had hurriedly packed her belongings and headed out at the break of dawn for her aunt’s home and sanctuary. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have envisioned herself standing in Lee’s Point in the company of a man like Quinn Baxter.

Adrianna waited anxiously for Quinn to tell her what he wanted to speak to her about.

“Care to join me?” he finally asked. Quinn had moved to the swing at the far end of the porch. Gently, he patted the seat beside him, beckoning her. A touch of shyness momentarily delayed her, but she overcame it and crossed the porch to join him. As she sat, her arm brushed against his, and a strange thrill rushed through her.

“Annie, could you be mistaken about Lola locking you in the attic?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I hate to think that Lola would do such a thing,” Quinn countered.

“You don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

“She’s afraid you’ll take her place here,” Quinn said.

“She needn’t worry about that.”

“Annie, I’m sorry you had such a fright. I’m sure Lola didn’t realize you were up there. I’ll fix the attic door so it can’t be locked.”

They sat quietly while each was absorbed in thought. Adrianna wondered how Quinn could be so blind that he couldn’t see what type of person Lola was.

“I know what it’s like, you know,” Quinn commented, changing the subject.