Second Thoughts (17 page)

Connie watched him leave, then flew to Max and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He seemed taken aback but returned her embrace. She stepped back and gripped his elbows. “So help me, you’re going to give me ulcers. You get Petey and his truck and then get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see either one of you around here ever again.”

A touch of sadness was in his smile. “That’s exactly what I intend to do, Aunt Connie.”

Once Connie released him, she became aware of reaction setting in. She felt shaky, and suddenly she wanted to go to the bathroom. Bad.

“Then you’re giving up,” Derek said.

“What else can I do?” Max asked, still with that sad smile. “Hayworth hasn’t won—he’s a loser and always will be
—never will that man be a winner. But I’ve already risked too much. I can’t bear to think of Petey in any kind of confinement, and who would take care of him if I went to prison? Not to mention the risk to Moose.” He shrugged, appearing more resigned than defeated. “I gave it my best shot, but it didn’t pan out.”

He extended his hand to Derek. “Thanks, Uncle Dare. It was good meeting you.” He took Connie’s hand, then bent to kiss her cheek. “You too,” he said. “You both take care.”

Then he was gone.

As they stared at the empty doorway, Derek put his arm around Connie’s shoulders. Neither spoke. Then the urge to urinate grew so strong she had to excuse herself. She did what she had to do, and had a good cry in there, too. She washed the tears away, dried her face, and rejoined Derek. But from the commiserating look he gave her, she guessed the crying jag had left traces.

When Kevin returned for them, no one asked questions, and no one offered explanations.

* * *

Abbie was breaking in a new tooth, and she didn’t need a vocabulary to explain what cranky meant. She hadn’t been sleeping well, which meant no one else had either, and she was no happier in the daytime.

She and Derek were playing with a plastic egg that broke apart in the middle. While kneeling on the floor in front of her, her uncle put the two pieces in separate pockets of her frilly blouse. She made an enraged comment, and he quickly fished out the pieces and gave them to her.

Connie grinned as she set her suitcase near the door. “That little tyrant certainly has whipped you into shape.”

He looked up. “Seems to me I’ve also seen Auntie Connie back down a time or two,” he countered.

The teething process wasn’t affecting Andy as badly as it did his sister. He was sitting on the floor amidst his toys, happily playing with an empty shoebox. Abbie stopped next to him and dropped the plastic egg pieces. An argument over the shoebox lid seemed imminent. Connie watched, waiting for war to erupt, but Abbie turned aside and complained her way into the hall, probably searching for her mother.

Connie heard them meet up, the mother’s soothing words, and then the baby’s protests muffling themselves on her mom’s shoulder. When she became aware that Derek’s gaze was still on her, she was surprised at the shyness that threatened to overcome her.

She looked back. “Well. That was some fishing trip you took us on.”

He sent her a grin, looking comfortable with one knee still resting on the floor. “This gift of understatement of yours is a newly acquired skill.”

“I’m glad you’re sticking around. Chris is ecstatic he’s got both you and his dad. He told me you’re going to that new Sears today, to check out their sports department. Sounds manly.”

His grin deepened. “Now who’s being sexist?” He stood and dusted his hands together. “I still have another week of vacation, and I figured I’d spend it here mending fences.”

“I doubt that’ll be a problem.” She looked at her suitcase, then back up. “I’ve always respected Kevin, now even more so. It took an extraordinary person to do what he did.”

“I’m very much aware of that.” Slowly he crossed the room. “I was planning on calling you next week, but I’ll just talk to you now instead. There’s a charity benefit coming up this summer that I promised to attend. And I need a date.”

She said nothing. He’d stopped a full arm’s length away, giving her plenty of space. And Kristy was also giving them ample room, Connie noted.

“You could spend the weekend,” Derek added, but not crowding her with the invitation. Instead, she got the impression he was deliberately holding back, giving her time and room and anything else she might want. “You’d have your own bedroom, of course, but I don’t want to rush you. If you’re not comfortable with that arrangement, there’s an excellent hotel near by.”

Here we go, she thought. Did she really want to do this? Did she honestly not want to? She swallowed hard. “Sounds like this could be a first date, except it’s the second time around.” Even her voice sounded shy.

His mouth curved. “Both comments fit.” Then he grew quiet and his face smoothed out. She’d never before seen him hold himself in check like that.

Finally she spoke again. “We have to move slowly.” Her voice was very quiet and very serious. “Very slowly.”

He broke into another grin, this one wide and relieved. He was a good-looking man, but when he smiled, his face was transformed into matinee-idol handsomeness. “You can move as slowly as you want to. As long as we’re moving, we’re making progress.”

He stepped closer, then leaned in to lightly, very lightly, brush his lips across hers. As kisses go, this was as chaste as one could get. Their lips barely lingered long enough to make contact, but the contact carried a jolt of electricity.

Impatiently, Connie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. This was the third time she’d sat through this red light. She wanted to use an ATM before getting on the freeway to start her trip home, preferably at a branch of her own bank, but empty parking spaces were nonexistent. This time she stayed on the thoroughfare instead of turning onto her bank’s street. She’d hit the first ATM she saw with a parking place anywhere near it.

Two blocks later, she found a bank, a space for the car, and a line at the ATM. Idly, she glanced at the window. The inside of the bank appeared as busy as the outside. At the desk nearest the window, an elderly man was concluding his business. The man behind the desk stood, they shook hands, and the elderly customer exited the building.

Connie stepped inside and took the seat the man had vacated. The name plaque on the desk identified the bank representative as Raymond L. Tidwell, Investment Counselor.

Mr. Tidwell looked up. The automatic smile disappeared. “Uh-oh.”

Connie smiled. “Hi, Moose.”

His sigh was deep and drawn out. “Hello, Aunt Connie.”

The woman seated behind the next desk glanced at them. Her chestnut hair held a touch of gray, her nails were a bright blood red, and her pale green dress fit like a glove, which unfortunately emphasized the ten or so extra pounds she carried. “Aunt Connie? You’ve got to be kidding. She’s at least ten years younger than you.” Her voice carried the lilting trace of a southern accent.

Her nameplate identified her as Darlene Marsh, Assistant Manager. Darlene wasn’t exactly possessive toward Moose, but there was something about her appraisal of Connie that suggested a relationship—or the wish for one—with Raymond Tidwell.

Connie tried to make herself look romantically harmless. “I’m not really his aunt, but it is a family endearment. We met through my niece and nephews.”

Apparently finding nothing in Connie’s manner to be concerned about, Darlene gave the smile back, then returned her attention to the file on her desk.

Connie settled comfortably in the chair, returned her attention to Moose, and gave him what she supposed was a wicked grin. He wore a steel gray suit and a deep blue shirt set off by a pinstriped tie, quite a difference from the casual jeans and shirts of the farmhouse. Purposely and sweetly, she used his own pet phrase. “My, my. It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”

He said nothing. He resembled a man awaiting sentence.

She checked her watch. “When do they let you out for lunch?”

“Now,” Darlene said, looking up. “His lunch break started just this instant.”

“Great.” Connie pushed her chair back and stood. “Perfect timing.”

“Uh,” Moose said.

Darlene waved him away. “Get out of here, Ray. Go treat your aunt to lunch.” She critically eyed Connie’s snug navy slacks. “Buy her something fattening.”

* * *

“They’ve had two days,” Connie said, picking at the limp plate of lettuce that had been described as a salad. “So I hope they’re long gone.”

Without comment, Moose took another bite out of his giant, juicy hamburger. He hadn’t livened up a whole lot but had managed two whole sentences. “Just a salad? You’ll never find a better hamburger than they make here.”

Her fork didn’t find anything it wanted to attach itself to. Their hamburgers might be okay, but their salads left much to be desired. “You know where they are, don’t you?”

“Why are you asking? Are you in need of a pen pal?”

She pushed her plate away and eyed his basket of fries. “Just curious, I guess.” The hamburger didn’t turn her on, but the curly fries looked delicious. “But just in case Hayworth changes his mind or somehow someone could get that book away from him, you’d be able to then get it to Max. Right?”

“No comment to the second part. And to the first part, the only way that book could be recovered from Hayworth is by stealing it back. Forget it, Aunt Connie.”

That was the longest speech so far, and he’d demolished the hamburger. Apparently, the food had fueled his communicational skills. He took a long swig of Coke, then wiped his hands on the flimsy napkin. It was a tiny one, considering those big hands and all the hamburger juice on them.

She hadn’t needed her napkin, so pushed it his way. She pointed at the fries he hadn’t touched. “May I?”

Obligingly he pushed the basket toward her. “Darlene says go ahead.”

She tasted one. “Umm. They are good.” She settled in for a feast, meaning that she now needed a napkin. Rubbing the salty grease between thumb and fingers, she looked for a dispenser. He helped himself to fresh napkins on a nearby table and passed them to her.

“Thanks. Are you and Darlene…uh—”

“That’s none of your business, Aunt Connie.”

“Of course it’s not.” She ate another French fry. “Can she cook?”

He grinned. Lunch had done him a world of good. “I hope so.”

“You hope so?” She watched him as she munched. “How long is it going to take you to get yourself invited to dinner? You’re bound to cook better together than you do on your own. It’d be…less lonely.”

He gave her a careful look, as if wondering how to interpret that statement. Blandly she stared back. He glanced away, and his face appeared strained with the effort of keeping it straight. “Aunt Connie,” he said, as if scolding a child.

She finished the fries and drained her glass of water. If she’d known she was having French fries for lunch, she would’ve ordered a Coke to go with them. “Just as a matter of curiosity—”

“You’ve got a lot of that, I notice.”

“Why did you and Max rob the convenience store in the first place? Why not just go to Hayworth’s house, steal the book back and be done with it?”

“That would’ve pointed the finger directly and immediately at Max. We’d hoped to work behind the scenes to influence Hayworth, show him what we were capable of, and ultimately force him to hand over the book in self-defense.”

“Your plan didn’t work very well.”

His slow grin turned into a deep chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a flair for understatement?”

“Actually, yes. So I take it that Hayworth keeps the book at home?”

He shrugged, appearing tired of the whole thing. “Yeah, but so did Max. If it were mine, I’d put it in a safe deposit box. Max kept it in a drawer, in a plastic bag. At least Hayworth keeps it in a safe.” Then he frowned, exhibiting his lack of respect for lackadaisical security measures. “But it’s a cheap combination kind that even I could probably break into.”

Connie had been rotating her water glass, making wet circles on the Formica tabletop. She looked up. “Oh, yeah? You’re full of surprises. You’ve had experience in such things?”

“No. But I used to have a drinking buddy who did. He told me how to play with the dial until the thing itself gives you the combination.”

The circles from Connie’s water glass were growing larger. She studied the emerging pattern. “Could you tell me how to do that?”

After a long silence, she looked up to find Moose watching her steadily with a notable lack of expression.

“Wow,” he said. “Do I ever have a big mouth.” He worked his way out of the booth and stood. “And a small brain.”

She stood also. “Wait a minute. I just—”

“I’m going back to work, Aunt Connie. You go home.”

“What are you thinking? You’re jumping to conclusions. For crying out loud—”

Moose took hold of her arms. He was more than a foot taller, and she felt like a small child. He said, sounding like a stern parent, “It’s not what I’m thinking, it’s what you’re thinking. Now you stop it right now. I warn you, Aunt Connie, I’ll call your brother-in-law if I have to.”