The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (26 page)

“No. If they did, they’d kick me out of my own house.”

“So, just gather all your courage and do it. This weekend would be good. I can get an extra day off.”

“This weekend?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t sounded so astonished.

“The weather is beautiful, Chas. It’s spring. Come and see me.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

After she hung up the phone, Chas wondered what she had agreed to. Then she thought of seeing Jackson and nearly squealed out loud. She got busy making arrangements, and the enthusiasm of her friends helped make it easier. She talked to Jackson several times through the course of making certain that everything was in order, and before she knew it she was in the air on her way to Virginia. She felt butterflies at the thought of seeing the man she loved, which helped compensate a little for her mild nervousness over the experience of traveling so far.

Chas did as Jackson had instructed and called him from her cell phone the moment the plane landed. Without even saying hello, he said, “You are going to hate me.”

“What?” she asked, immediately panicked.

“Now, there’s no need for alarm. I just . . . got hung up here. It was important and I couldn’t get away.”

“Okay,” Chas said, trying to be reasonable. “I’m sure I can survive here at the airport until you get here. Lots of people do it.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve sent two of my best men to pick you up.”

“Your best men?” She laughed. “It sounds like witness protection, or something.”

She’d meant it to be funny but Jackson was completely serious as he said, “Yeah.”

“You mean . . . they really do that kind of stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “How do I find these great secret agents?”

“They’ll find you.”

“How?”

“They’re FBI, Chas. Since you’re not actually being pursued by the mob, or something, I don’t think I need to give you any code words or signs. I’m sorry about this, but I’ll see you soon. I love you. I’ve got to go.”

Chas sighed again and put her phone in her purse. She was finally able to get into the plane aisle and get her bag from the overhead compartment, grateful for a kind gentleman who helped her. Once in the airport, she worked her way toward baggage claim according to the signs, even though she didn’t need to claim any baggage. She didn’t have time to even stop and look around or wonder where her escorts were before she found a man on each side of her; both were wearing dark suits and sunglasses.

“Chas Henrie?” one of them said.

“Yes?”

He then opened his wallet to show her his ID, saying, “I’m Agent Ekert, FBI. And this is Agent Veese. We’ll take you where you need to go.”

“Thank you,” she said, a little surprised by their seriousness. She recognized the names the same moment she recognized vague scars on both their faces. These were the men who had almost lost their lives in an explosion. But she thought it best to pretend she didn’t know about that, aware that it was still a sensitive issue.

“Do you have luggage?” Agent Veese asked.

“This is it,” she said. “I’m ready.”

The two men flanked her as they left the airport, and they guided her into the backseat of a black sedan that had been parked in a No Parking zone. Agent Veese was driving, and once they were beyond the airport, she noticed that he drove very quickly, but she tried to focus her attention elsewhere and not indulge in feeling nervous. The silence between the agents ended when Ekert said to his partner, “You’d better take it easy there, buddy, or Leeds’ll have your head.”

“He told me to hurry.”

“He’d appreciate getting the car and the passengers all there in one piece.”

“Amen,” Chas said quietly.

“I apologize for my partner’s reckless driving,” Ekert said over his shoulder. “He is very good at it, however. The boss always lets him drive when we need to get somewhere in a hurry.”

“Don’t speed on my account,” she said. “Take as long as you need.”

“There’s no need to be nervous, ma’am,” Veese said.

“About your driving?” she asked.

“That too. But I meant whatever you’ve been brought in for.”

Brought in for?
“What exactly did Agent Leeds tell you?” she asked.

“Normally, that would be classified information, but it’s not, because he didn’t tell us anything. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sure there isn’t,” Chas said, smiling to herself. Clearly these men had no idea that she had a personal connection to the man who had sent them to get her.

“Except for Veese’s driving.”

“Hey,” Veese chuckled, “he said to hurry, and I always do what the big man tells me.”

The big man?
Chas had suspected that Jackson was being humble about his position. Now she had proof.

Attempting to distract herself from Veese’s driving, she focused on the scenery passing by. Everything just looked way too big and busy and overwhelming. She
was
glad to be in the care of competent professionals who knew their way around the city. She lost track of the time it took to get to their destination, but when they were getting out of the car she had a repeat episode of the butterflies that had consumed her when the plane had been landing.
He was so close!

Again the agents flanked her as they entered the building and went up the elevator, Veese carrying her suitcase. They stepped off into a busy area with many desks and a lot of noise. A woman looked up from her work for only a second and said, “Leeds wants her in his office.”

“Why?” Ekert asked.

“I don’t know. Because he said so. Since when do we need any more reason than that?”

“His office, really?” Ekert asked.

“He made it very clear,” the woman said with mild impatience. She glanced at the clock. “He said he’d be out of that meeting by four, so he should be there soon.”

“Okay,” Ekert said, and they went down a hall, away from the noise, and through a door that said
Jackson T. Leeds
on it. “Have a seat,” he told Chas, and Veese set down her bag. But the two men left the door open and remained near it in the hallway. She ignored them, glad their backs were turned, while she remained on her feet and took in her surroundings.

The room’s size and its fine furnishings were an indication of his status. She briefly perused the things on top of his desk, which indicated a very busy man. She smiled to see one of the framed photos she’d sent him sitting there. She wondered why the men who’d come to get her hadn’t recognized her from it, but noticed that it was facing Jackson’s chair, not the other chairs across from his desk.

She was amazed at the number of framed certificates and awards behind the desk, including his college diploma. But she was more intrigued by the other wall that was covered with framed photographs. Most of them had Jackson in them with other people. Some appeared to have been taken at important events. Many were military, with a mixture of formal and casual. She thought of Martin, but with less pain than she’d become accustomed to feeling over thoughts of him. She liked seeing Jackson younger, and with his hair much darker, but she concluded that he had aged well, and he was definitely a man who had improved with maturity.

She was studying a picture of him and three other men looking as if they had literally just survived a battle, standing in front of a helicopter, when she heard his voice in the hall. Her stomach flip-flopped and her heart quickened.

“Thank you,” she heard him say. “Don’t forget that I want those reports on my desk Monday morning when I get here.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them replied.

“Have a great weekend, boss.”

“You too,” Jackson said and stepped into the room.

In the few seconds it took him to close the door, Chas took him in visually and felt utterly giddy. He wore dark slacks, a light blue button-up shirt, and a striped tie. And a leather shoulder holster with a pistol. For a long moment they just looked at each other, then he showed that rare full smile that lit up his eyes. “Wow,” he said and chuckled. “It is really good to see you.”

“You too,” she said. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled again and stepped slowly toward her, as if he were savoring the anticipation. Chas knew her heart had rarely if ever pounded so hard as he took her face into his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

“Oh,” he said, looking into her eyes, “I
do
believe in miracles. It is
so
good to see you.”

“Amen,” she murmured and urged him to kiss her again, then she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly while she settled her head against the warm familiar spot on his shoulder. The only thing that felt unfamiliar was the leather strap of the holster. But it suited him so well that it took no effort to become accustomed to it. He held her tightly and pressed a kiss into her hair. The warmth and secure familiarity of their embrace soothed and filled her.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he said. “I had great fantasies about a romantic airport reunion.”

“Me too. But it’s okay.” She looked up at him. “They took very good care of me.”

“They’d better have.”

“And now I know how it feels to be in FBI custody. I was wondering if you did that on purpose.”

“What?”

“Sent agents to get me without telling them we had any personal connection?”

He chuckled. “No, but now that you mention it . . . it was pretty clever of me. I just don’t need these people knowing my personal life. All they would do is razz me about it.”

“At least you
have
a personal life. That’s a positive development, right?”

“Very positive,” he said and kissed her again.

Chas eased away as she said, “So, apparently you’re a pretty important guy around here. I think you’ve been holding out on me.”

“There’s nothing I could have told you that would have impressed you,” he said as she sat in his chair and he sat on the edge of the desk. “There’re many people I have to answer to. I’m just somewhere in the middle.”

“But getting here . . . to the middle . . . can’t have been easy.”

“No, I suppose not.”

She turned in the chair to look again at his awards and photos. He noticed and said, “It’s kind of vain, I know. But everything on the walls is a piece of evidence that reminds me—and the people I have to face—that I’ve earned the right to sit in that chair. It gives me perspective.”

“I like that about you, Agent Leeds.”

“You like what?”

“The way you appreciate perspective.” She spun his chair like a child so that it went around several times. “I’m getting a whole new perspective on you.”

“It’s still me.”

“Yes,” she said, stopping the chair, “it only took about thirty seconds to realize that.” She smiled, and he smiled back. “So, I’m here.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I did it. I drove to Butte, got on a plane, got an FBI escort, and I’m here. No panic attacks or anything.”

“Remarkable! I told you I believe in miracles.” He laughed softly. “It is
really
good to see you. This office has never looked better, and next week when I come back to it, it’s going to be really drab.”

“Don’t think about that now. I just got here. What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to stop by my place long enough for me to change my clothes, then we’ll check you in at your hotel, and then I have reservations at my favorite restaurant. Tomorrow we’re going to see the sights and spend the entire day holding hands while we do it.”

“Sounds great so far.”

“On Sunday . . .” He used a dramatic voice to indicate he had a great surprise. “I found a Mormon church and figured out what time they meet.”

“You’re taking me to church?”

“I am,” he said proudly. “And then I thought we could cook dinner at my place and watch a sappy movie, or something. And Monday . . . well, I don’t want to talk about Monday. We have time to go out to breakfast before I take you to the airport, and then I have to be back at my desk by noon.”

“You’re right. Let’s not talk about Monday.” She stood up. “Come on, Leeds. I want to see where you live. Fair is fair.”

He picked up her bag and opened the door, motioning her into the hallway. They walked side-by-side toward the elevator, and she took another good look at all of the people working here, and the activity taking place. It was a lot more complicated—and noisy—than running an inn.

In the elevator, Jackson kissed her again since they were alone, then he smiled at her as the doors opened and they walked to a dark blue SUV. He pushed the button on the remote and the back opened, where he put her bag. Then he opened the passenger door for her and she got in.

While he was driving she could only stare at him. “I can’t believe I’m here . . . with you.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I can’t believe it either.” He stopped at a traffic light and gave her a quick kiss. “It is really good to see you.”

“You too.”

He pointed out some things about places they were passing, but she felt indifferent to anything but being with him. His apartment turned out to be one floor of a four-story home that was connected on both sides to a long row of similar homes. They were beautiful and classic, and it was obviously a nice part of the city. But she didn’t know how he could handle the closed-in feeling. When she mentioned that, he only said, “I’m not home much, and when I am, I’m on the phone.”

The apartment itself was fairly tidy, but then he’d known she was coming. She knew, however, from his staying at the inn, that he was a fairly tidy man. The apartment was simple and practical, and looked like a place where a man lived alone. He gave her a brief tour, then he went into the bedroom and closed the door, telling her he’d only be a few minutes. She looked around more carefully, and everywhere she looked, she found cards she had sent him, along with pictures of the two of them together. He came out dressed in the way she was most accustomed to seeing him, wearing jeans and a dark polo shirt. He gave her another kiss, and they went to the hotel where she was staying. He checked her in, then carried her bag for her as they went to the room to make certain everything was in order. Then they left to get to the restaurant where he’d made reservations. Dinner was wonderful, and being with him was heavenly. The sparkle in his eyes strengthened her hope that one day he might choose her over his job. But she couldn’t think about that too deeply at the moment.