Baby, Don't Go (15 page)

21

A
licia laughed at a comment made by a man sitting at the counter, but she was having a hard time keeping her mind on work this morning because Marcus crowded every corner of her brain.

“What’s your name?” the man asked. He was nice-looking—bald and muscular. And he had a friendly, refreshing vibe.

“Alicia Ran—” She stopped herself just in time. “Er…Waters. Alicia Waters.”

“I’m Clancey King. Nice to know you. Are you from around here?”

“The Northeast,” she said vaguely. “You?”

“Atlanta. I read about Sweetness on the internet, thought I’d come up and take a look around. How do you like living here?”

Her mind raced. It was probably best not to say she desperately missed gourmet coffee, hot yoga and intellectual stimulation. She forced a smile. “It’s simple here.”

He pursed his mouth. “I could go for simple.”

Alicia left him to his pancakes and perused the morning diners. Scott Bloom had returned today and thankfully no scuffles had broken out. Teri seemed to have won the wishbone because she was gushingly attentive while a red-eyed Gina ignored the couple. Alicia felt sorry for her, but was determined to observe and not interfere.

At the end of the counter, Rachel Hutchins took a seat and pulled what looked like a bundle of mail out in front of her. She smiled at Alicia expectantly. Alicia glanced around for a waitress she could send to take the woman’s order, but they were occupied. She’d gone out of her way to avoid Rachel, but at the moment she had no choice but to be friendly.

Alicia excused herself and made her way down the counter. “Hi,” she offered to Rachel. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Grapefruit juice would be great,” Rachel said, then she squinted. “Your eye looks bruised.”

Alicia smiled. “I fell yesterday—no big deal. I thought I’d done a good job this morning covering it with makeup.”

“You did,” Rachel said, still staring. “I’m just very observant.”

Alicia managed to maintain her smile. “I’ll get your juice.” She walked to the chilled pitchers and poured the woman’s drink. “Observant” Rachel Hutchins made her nervous.

And when she returned to set down the drink, her pulse shot even higher. Rachel was unrolling the current issue of
Feminine Power
magazine. If she turned to the Undercover Feminist column and noticed Alicia’s picture and byline, she might recognize her and realize why Alicia was in Sweetness.

Alicia wanted to kick herself for not using a different first name.

“Thanks,” Rachel said, picking up the juice glass. “And a bowl of oatmeal with fruit.”

“Coming up,” Alicia said.

While she supervised orders and chatted with Clancey King, she kept one anxious eye on the blonde, who seemed to scrutinize every page of the magazine. She even produced a yellow highlighting marker and underlined passages.

Great, Alicia thought—the magazine’s most devoted reader lived in Sweetness, Georgia.

Was it her imagination, or was Rachel giving her curious looks?

To make matters worse, Marcus walked by and Rachel flagged him down. Soon the two of them were immersed in conversation, with Rachel doing most of the talking. Alicia tried not to stare, but more than once, she caught Marcus’s gaze over the blonde’s shoulder. Then he walked away from Rachel and made a beeline for Alicia.

Perspiration beaded her hairline. Had Rachel figured out who she was, and shared her revelation with Marcus? Was she about to be outed?

Marcus stopped. “Could we have a word in private?”

Her throat convulsed—he didn’t look pleased. “Sure,” she said, then turned and walked into the kitchen.

Tony was mopping the floor, and Marcus asked him to take a bucket of scraps to the compost bin. Alicia gnawed on her thumbnail—noticing how badly she needed a manicure only made her more antsy. When Tony was gone, Marcus turned back to her. “Something just came to my attention.”

“Oh?”

He reached into a folder he held and removed what looked like a computer-generated message. “Your social security number was kicked back as invalid.”

Was he leading up to exposing her? She put on her best mask of incredulity and reached for the piece of paper. “That’s impossible. Oh, wait—two of the numbers are transposed.”

After what seemed like an interminable pause, he nodded agreeably and gestured to the computer. “Will you fix it in the payroll system when you can and resubmit it?”

“Absolutely,” she said, exhaling deeply when she realized her cover hadn’t been blown after all.

“And…” He shifted from foot to foot, then withdrew a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to her.

Alicia squinted at the homemade label. “Cedar oil?”

“It’s supposed to repel scorpions. A local man, Riley Bates, makes his own concoctions. Kendall is looking into having the boardinghouse treated, but until then, I thought it might make you feel…better.”

Surprise flowered in her chest, flustering her. “Thank you.” She unscrewed the lid and sniffed the aromatic contents. The scent was pleasant, if a little strong. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Rub it on,” he said, then his face reddened. “I mean, like perfume, if you don’t mind the smell.”

She replaced the lid. “This was nice of you.”

He lifted his hands as if to deny her description of nice. “I just want everyone in my patriarchal town to feel safe.”

She smirked, but gave him credit for good humor. The man confounded her. Hadn’t she been furious with him just last night…and angry still this morning? How did Marcus Armstrong manage to make her feel so many conflicting things at once?

“I’d better get going,” he said. “I promised Rachel I’d hang a banner across the street today, and I need to take care of some other things to get ready for Homecoming weekend. But I’ll be around if you need me.” He balked. “I mean, if anything goes wrong.”

Before she could respond, he was gone.

The exchange left her feeling sideswiped…and strangely privileged, as if she’d seen a side of Marcus Armstrong that few people had been privy to. For all his swagger and sway, the man obviously struggled with expressing himself.

Was the cedar oil his idea of a peace offering for their tense words last night?

Alicia bit her lip. She was starting to rethink the blog entry she’d sent to Nina this morning, with her brittle appraisal of the town leader’s opinion of traditional male and female roles. True, he was old-fashioned, but the man had redeeming qualities.

She fingered the cloudy bottle. Its labeling and appearance were downright primitive when compared to the pots and jars from exclusive cosmetic counters that littered her vanity at home. Yet it seemed special…

Alicia gave herself a mental shake and tucked the bottle into her apron pocket. She couldn’t lose sight of why she’d come to Sweetness in the first place—and that she’d be leaving as soon as Nina felt she had enough material. Leaving to return to the fast-paced urban lifestyle she enjoyed.

And she’d never set foot in Sweetness again.

With new resolve, Alicia walked back into the diner and eyed Rachel at the end of the counter, still poring over
Feminine Power
magazine. Any minute now the woman might turn to the Undercover Feminist column and make the connection.

While Alicia’s mind raced, a slender bespectacled man whom she recognized from the clinic as Dr. Cross walked up and lowered himself onto the stool next to Rachel, giving her an adoring smile. But it was clear from Rachel’s body language that she didn’t welcome the doctor’s company. Alicia surmised the woman was still dating the hunky scientist. She felt sympathy for Dr. Cross, but she was hopeful he’d keep Rachel distracted for a few minutes.

Alicia ladled oatmeal into a bowl and picked up a side dish of fresh fruit. Then she walked to the end of the counter and set it down, giving the glass of juice a nudge in the process. “Here you go—oh!”

The sticky liquid rushed over the magazine and counter. Rachel jumped up to spare her summer dress, raising her arms. “Ugh!”

“Are you okay?” Dr. Cross asked. But in trying to right the glass, he managed to toss the rest of the juice onto the front of Rachel’s dress.

Rachel shrieked.

“I’m so sorry,” Alicia said, grabbing a handful of paper towels to mop up the mess.

“Me, too.” Dr. Cross removed a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the front of Rachel’s dress, but his well-meaning hands were promptly slapped away.

“I’ll do it! Go away.”

Alicia watched as the man relinquished his handkerchief, then slunk away, crushed. Feeling complicit, she squashed a pang of guilt, then scraped the saturated magazine and towels into a waste can. “I’ll replace your magazine. And of course breakfast is on me—as well as the dry cleaning.”

Rachel gave a rueful laugh. “We don’t have a dry cleaner, but thanks.” She looked longingly after the magazine, then smiled. “It’s okay. Now that I’m in a relationship, I don’t like that magazine as much anyway.”

Alicia blinked. “Why not?” Then she caught herself. “I mean…what kind of magazine is it?”

“It’s one of those strident, man-hating women’s magazines, but they have great business articles.”

Alicia bit her tongue to keep from blurting the virtues of all aspects of the magazine she worked for. Instead she carried the waste can to the office, gratified that at least Rachel wouldn’t be able to identify her.

She chatted more with Clancey, who planned to spend the day in Sweetness, hiking to the water tower and taking photographs. He said goodbye and hinted that he’d probably stop by again later. When he left, Alicia couldn’t help but think a little piece of sunshine had gone with the likable man.

After that, even though she got the chance to talk to customers and gather more material for her blog, the day seemed to drag. She ruefully admitted that she missed jockeying for space at the grill next to Marcus and learning more about him, even though the man revealed himself one monosyllable at a time.

After the lunch rush, she walked into the kitchen to find the juice-stained issue of
Feminine Power
magazine lying on a counter.

Teri saw her do a double-take and offered, “You know how strict we are about recycling around here. Someone fished it out of the garbage and set it out to dry before it goes into the paper bin.” She nodded toward the large blue recycle bin brimming with newspapers, cardboard and paper plates from yesterday’s stopgap measure when the dishwasher had broken down.

Noble, Alicia acknowledged, but she couldn’t risk someone else flipping through the magazine. When Teri left, Alicia skimmed the table of contents and turned to the page with her column that had sustained almost no damage. Even though she was wearing her hair differently, anyone would know it was her.

She tore out the page and glanced around the desk looking for a paper shredder, but didn’t see one. She did, however, spy a box of matches that someone had left lying on the counter. And the empty waste can under the desk was metal. Alicia looked over her shoulder then carried the wastebasket outside. Considering her history with fire, no way was she going to start one indoors.

Under a brutal sun next to the compost bins, she struck a match, lit the corner of the page, then dropped it into the waste can and watched it burn. When the paper had been reduced to ash, she added the spent match, then carried the can back inside.

Whew.

She took a few moments to check her voice messages on her cell phone. As expected, Nina was thrilled with the new blog entry, which left her with mixed feelings. Her boss asked her to call her later with “Details! Details!” Alicia frowned—Nina was enjoying this assignment way too much.

When she returned to the counter, Tony and the other busboy were pressing their faces against the window.

“Can we take our break, Miss Alicia, and go out to see the fire truck?”

She nodded, then looked out herself to see the big red truck positioned between two utility poles. The truck itself made her stomach roil—she’d seen enough fire engines to last a lifetime. But when Marcus came into view, her heart gave a little jump.

He was such a handsome man, it was a treat to watch his body move. He carried himself like an athlete…and a soldier, she realized—shoulders back, head tall, eyes all-seeing. He placed a toolbox and the rolled-up banner into a bucket known as a cherry picker (she’d once been rescued in one), and climbed inside, then signaled to someone to lift him.

Alicia couldn’t take her eyes off him. Something inside her swelled just knowing that she’d been intimate with him last night. His every movement was purposeful…and effective. When her body started to react to the vivid memories, she forced herself to look away.

Then she spotted something that alarmed her more than the fire truck. Alicia pressed her nose against the window.

“Mom?”

Outside, Candace spotted her through the window and waved, then entered the diner. She stopped inside the door and set a suitcase on the floor. “Surprise!”

22

A
licia stared at Candace and her suitcase, disbelieving. She walked closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mom? What is this?”

Candace’s bright smile dimmed a bit. “I missed you, so I decided to come up for a visit. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Alicia scrutinized her mother’s body language, knew her nervous tics. Something was wrong. She pulled Candace into a brief hug. “Yes, it’s good to see you. Have you had lunch?”

“I’m not hungry, but I wouldn’t mind a glass of iced tea.”

Alicia reached for the suitcase. “Let’s sit.”

She let the waitresses know she would be on break, then shepherded her mother to a table in a far corner and retrieved a glass of tea for each of them.

“It’s so pretty here,” Candace chattered. “It’s like a picture postcard driving in. That covered bridge is simply amazing.”

“Yes, it is,” Alicia said patiently.

“And it looks like you’ve settled in,” Candace said, gesturing to the diner.

Alicia looked all around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. “That’s kind of the point, Mom—I’m
undercover
. I wish you’d called first.”

Candace looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry, you’re right, of course. You’re always right.”

Alicia reached across the table to clasp her mother’s hand. “Did something happen?”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I left Bo.”

Alicia knew the drill—ask questions, but don’t offer any opinions in case her mother wound up getting back together with the guy. “Why did you leave?”

“He’s not the man I thought he was.”

The monogrammed panties she’d found under Bo’s truck seat came to mind, but Alicia swallowed a retort. “Can you be more specific?”

Candace pressed her lips together. “He uses drugs.”

Alicia winced, but wasn’t wholly surprised.

“I had my suspicions, but this morning after he left for work, I was cleaning and I found his stash. I was so scared. You can see why I had to leave.”

“Of course.”

“So…I can stay with you for a while?”

Alicia looked around again and lowered her voice. “Mom, it’s not that I don’t want you to stay, but it’s hard to pretend I’m someone I’m not if my
mother
is around.”

Candace looked hurt momentarily, then brightened. “Why can’t I just be the mother of the person you’re pretending to be?”

Alicia squinted.

“Please, Alicia?” Candace worried her lower lip. “Just until I figure out what I’m going to do.”

Alicia sighed. “Okay. If my boss says it’s okay, you can stay in my room at the boardinghouse for a few days.”

Candace beamed. “Thank you! We’re going to have the best time, you’ll see.”

Alicia had her doubts, but she gave her mother an encouraging smile.

Candace looked down at Alicia’s wrist. “You’re not wearing your bracelet.”

Guilt flooded her chest. “Oh…I don’t wear it when I’m working.” She’d ease her way into telling her mother she’d lost it. At the moment, Candace seemed a little fragile and Alicia didn’t want her to think she didn’t like the gift or appreciate it.

Candace happily sipped from her tea and looked around. “I like this place—it’s so…it’s so…” She inhaled deeply, then frowned. “Smoky.”

Alicia sniffed the air, pulling an acrid odor into her lungs. Then she realized in horror that from the kitchen area, gray smoke was billowing into the diner.

Marcus completed fastening the Homecoming banner on one pole, then signaled to be moved to the other utility pole. He looked down at the crowd gathered to make sure no one was standing in harm’s way and noticed a white extended-cab truck with a Department of Energy insignia pulling into a spot near the diner.

Their inspector was back.

He glanced toward the diner and prayed they were ready.

A tanned man with dark blond hair climbed out of the truck and waved up to Marcus. Marcus waved back to Dale Richardson, then cupped his hands and yelled that he would be down in fifteen minutes. He planned to escort the man around himself on this visit. They had too much at stake.

Suddenly an alarm sounded, followed by another. He scanned the buildings below, but quickly narrowed the shrill noise to the diner. His pulse rocketed higher—what was going on?

The door to the diner flew open and a clump of people poured out, followed by a cloud of gray smoke. Marcus’s vital signs went on high alert.

“Fire!” he shouted, then pointed to the diner. “Get everyone back! Put me down!”

As the operator lowered him at a painstakingly slow speed, he was relieved to spot Tony standing outside the diner, along with the other busboy. He also located Teri and Gina and Sheila.

But he didn’t see Alicia.

He started to panic because it seemed likely that she was behind the blaze, and maybe this time she’d hurt herself—or worse. His mind spun worst-case scenarios of her working at the grill and catching her apron on fire, or spilling a container of hot grease on herself.

A handful of volunteer firefighters he’d trained had been standing next to the truck. Some men had mobilized to deploy a hose and were attaching it to a hydrant. Others were pulling on gear in preparation for going inside.

“Hurry up!” he shouted to the operator.

The cherry picker finally settled back into its base. Marcus swung himself over the edge and hit the ground running. He didn’t stop to put on gear, just rushed past people, directing them to get back.

“Is anyone still in there?” he asked a man who had just exited the diner.

The man was coughing uncontrollably, but nodded.

“My daughter!” a woman cried. “My daughter Alicia is still in there!”

Marcus didn’t recognize her. “Alicia Waters?”

“No… Yes!” the woman said, her eyes huge. “She told me to leave, that she was going to try to put out the fire with an extinguisher.”

He flashed back to the “fire safety” lesson he’d given her. Marcus set his jaw. Foolish woman. He waved to his volunteer crew and shouted directions. One of the men gave him his own gear, and Marcus led the way inside.

The interior of the dining room was thick with smoke, but Marcus knew from experience that smoke could be more dangerous than flame. A blaze burned at the doorway to the kitchen. The lights were out. Marcus passed his flashlight over the floor in case she’d fallen or had passed out, but he didn’t see her.

“Alicia!”

He heard something and shouted her name again.

“I’m in the back! Help me!”

He gave directions to his men to extinguish the blaze blocking the way to the kitchen, but after three attempts, they threw up their hands. “There’s no water getting to the hose!”

Adrenaline fueled him forward. He ran through the blaze to find Alicia lying flat on the floor next to a spent fire extinguisher. Relief flooded his limbs. He helped her to stand, then shouted, “Stay low and cover your mouth.” Shielding her with his equipment, he led her back through the blaze and out the back door.

“Is anyone else inside?” he asked her when they were clear of the building.

She coughed into her hands, but shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, but her brown eyes were wide. “Thank you, Marcus.”

He couldn’t speak, he was so unnerved from imagining what could’ve happened. Needing to touch her, he clasped her by her upper arm and walked her around to the front of the diner. There he handed Alicia off to Dr. Cross, who was standing by with a gurney. Marcus saw that Porter had arrived and was working on the hydrant. By the time he made his way back inside, the water was flowing. His crew made short work of the blaze in the kitchen that was being fed by the large bin of recyclable paper sitting near the back door.

When it was over, the fire damage was minimal…but it would take a while to clean up the water and smoke damage.

Marcus returned to where Alicia was sitting on the gurney, begrudgingly letting Dr. Cross listen to her lungs. The women who’d said she was Alicia’s mother stood nearby, hovering.

“How is she, doc?” Marcus asked, fighting the urge to put his arms around her. Her face and arms were smudged. Her apron was singed.

“Her lungs sound clear,” Dr. Cross said in his crisp British accent. “I think she’ll be fine.”

“I’m right here,” Alicia said, then eased herself off the gurney. “And I
am
fine.”

“What happened?” Marcus asked her. Now that he knew no one was injured, his mind was starting to process all the ramifications of the fire, not the least of which included the fact that the D.O.E. rep’s inspection would be delayed—at best.

She bit her lip. “It was my fault.”

Anger sparked in his stomach. “How?”

“I was burning paper earlier, and I thought the fire was out…but it must’ve smoldered. I’m so sorry, Marcus.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he bit out. “Besides the fact that someone could’ve been hurt, the D.O.E. rep just arrived to do the inspection.”

Her face paled beneath the smudges of ash. “What’s going to happen?”

“I honestly don’t know.” He turned and strode away before he said something worse. He was mad at Alicia for being so careless, and mad at himself for being so concerned about her welfare.

He spotted Dale Richardson standing in the crowd and made his way over to him. Marcus shook the man’s hand, but despite Dale’s friendly greeting, his expression did not look promising.

“I don’t suppose we could reschedule the inspection,” Marcus asked with as much good humor as he could muster.

Richardson gave him a tight smile. “I need to talk to you and your brothers.”

Marcus didn’t like his tone. He rounded up Porter and Kendall and the four of them walked away from the crowd.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Richardson said.

Kendall held up his hand. “Hold on, Dale.” Kendall knew Richardson better because the man and Amy were acquainted. “I know the diner looks bad now, but come on, we’ve made some giant strides since the last time you were here. We’ll meet that deadline in six months, if you can give us some leeway on today’s inspection.”

Dale’s mouth tightened. “I
am
giving you leeway on today’s inspection—the fact that the hydrant wasn’t delivering water would normally be enough to sink you on the emergency response section.”

The brothers acknowledged his concession.

“And I know you guys have been busting your asses to make things happen. I have an electronic alert set up, so I know when anything having to do with Sweetness hits the internet. And it’s all been good.”

“So what’s the bad news?” Marcus pressed.

Dale sighed. “Because of budget cuts, a lot of federal programs have been abandoned.”

Marcus’s heartbeat sped up. “Dale, don’t do this.”

“I was able to convince my superiors to keep your project on the books,” Dale said hurriedly.

Marcus exhaled.

“
But,
” the man continued, “your deadline has been moved up. Instead of having six months to meet the requirements of the grant, you only have one.”

“What?” Kendall roared.

“That’s impossible,” Porter said. “Will the requirements be relaxed?”

Richardson shook his head. “No.”

“Wait,” Porter said. “If the program were cancelled outright, would the land revert to us?”

“No,” Kendall said, his voice bitter. “It was the failsafe clause the government put in the contract. If the program is cancelled, ownership reverts to the entity that owned the land prior to the agreement—namely, the federal government.”

“Unfortunately, he’s right,” Dale said.

The bleak truth hit Marcus—they were being set up to fail. Instead of paying out what was left of the hefty grant to give the town financial footing, the government would assume ownership of the town, or, more likely, contract out ownership to a private company that would log the area and strip it of other natural resources, then retreat.

Leaving the residents high and dry.

And making a mockery of the Greenest Place on Earth.

He saw the truth of his theories reflected in Richardson’s face. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands.”

Marcus felt their gazes swing toward him. He knew his brothers expected him to spout words of guidance and encouragement, to assure Richardson they could pull off a miracle, with time to spare. But he was feeling worn down, and at his breaking point. He was tired of being tired, tired of squabbling residents and problematic business partners, tired of sleeping in a bunkhouse with two hundred and fifty other men, tired of putting everyone else’s needs and wants before his own.

“Marcus, what are you thinking?” Richardson finally ventured.

“I’m thinking,” Marcus announced, “that I’m going fishing.” Then he turned around and walked away.