Until She Met Daniel (9 page)

“Give Howard some credit,” Daniel said firmly, obviously agreeing with her self-criticism. “I merely suggested he consider making a statement to the employees. It's for their benefit as much as anything. People could pester them unmercifully, inside and out of office hours.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You were the one who pointed out this is a small town where things operate differently. In a large city, only a limited number of acquaintances would know a person was the city clerk or the mayor's administrative assistant. Here it seems to be common knowledge. And I never said you should be included in the meeting. That was the mayor's decision. But just for the record, I know I overstepped last Friday when I spoke to you. I apologize.”

Mandy wasn't sure how to react. His words seemed perfectly reasonable, and maybe they were. Since she didn't know for sure, she shrugged. “Whatever.”

“That sounds like a teenager who doesn't want to deal with something.”

Mandy planted her hands on her hips. “Now you're being unfair to me. I'm thirty years old, and I am
not
acting like a child. I simply don't know whether I agree with everything you said, so I prefer not to argue about it.”

“You mean you're saving that for another time? I'll keep a slot open on my calendar.”

“That's a snide thing to say.”

Daniel looked surprised, though she wasn't sure why. He ran fingers through his hair and straightened. “All right,” he said. “We'll just drop it for the time being.”

“Drop it forever,” she answered. “You're the one who dragged it up in the first place.”

He wheeled stiffly, meticulously propped the door open against the rubber doorstop, and then strode out of sight.

* * *

D
ANIEL
 
DROPPED
 
INTO
 
his desk chair and gripped the armrest.

How did Mandy push his buttons so easily? He barely knew the woman. And why did he care if she was annoyed by the mayor's meeting in the first place? Yes, he wanted things to go as smoothly as possible over the water issue, but when it came to Mandy he wasn't convinced that was his entire motive.

Worse, he'd forgotten himself enough to make that crack about his calendar. It wasn't the rudest thing he could have said, but it wasn't the calm, professional interaction he tried to maintain at work.

Ignoring the list of individuals he still needed to contact, Daniel focused on researching water issues in California, including the names and addresses of the nearest lawyers who had experience with litigation over water rights. Legal counsel might not be necessary, but he believed in being prepared. He recalled ruefully the advice of a university professor: if you went into law, you should study water rights, since it would always be a hot issue, especially in California. The professor hadn't been far off—there were still people who fumed about the Hetch Hetchy dam, and it had been built over ninety years ago.

Through intense effort of will, Daniel managed to get the work he'd planned for the day completed.

When he returned from his evening run, he parked in the driveway and found Mr. Spock sitting on the doorstep.

“I haven't seen you in a while,” he commented to the cat, then did a double take. He'd sometimes thought it was silly the way people talked to their animals, but there was something uncanny about how the cat stared at him and cocked its head at the sound of Daniel's voice, as if it really understood.

Mr. Spock pressed forward as he opened the door.

“No, you should go home.”

If the cat understood, he didn't care, because despite attempts to nudge him back, the feline streaked through the gap between Daniel's leg and the doorjamb.

Daniel decided to let him stay for a while. Mandy's only concern had been whether he'd be bothered by the feline's visits, and he wasn't. He dropped into an easy chair and picked up the local newspaper.

“Merrrow!”

Daniel glanced down. “Sorry, pal, no towel.”

“Merrrrrrooooow!”

The imperious demand made him chuckle. He laid the newspaper across his legs and the cat seemed to regard it as an invitation, leaping up and looking disdainfully at the rustling paper before thumping down upon it.

Since Daniel had seen Mandy at the park still picking berries when he'd left, he suspected Mr. Spock was getting attention from the nearest sucker available.

Nonetheless, it was oddly comforting to have the warm, vibrating creature on his legs. The cat laid his chin on his paws and closed his eyes while Daniel rubbed the area behind the pointed ears. Yes, he needed to consider getting a puppy or a cat, but it would be better to wait and let Samantha help choose the animal. When he'd broached the idea with Joyce, she'd endorsed it wholeheartedly, saying she had been sorry she hadn't allowed Celia to have the kitten she'd wanted as a child. He knew Joyce had a number of regrets about how she'd parented Celia, who was the opposite in many ways from her mother.

His hand dropped and he drowsed, barely aware of the passing minutes. Then the sound of a car door slamming made Mr. Spock's ears perk up. Daniel suspected it was Mandy's car, so he straightened in the chair. The cat gave a raucous meow and dropped to the floor with a thud.

“You're gaining weight, buddy,” Daniel advised. “Hope you're looking out for your cholesterol.”

He opened the front door, but Mr. Spock just stared at it and meowed loudly.

“Go on, I think she's home now.”

The cat slithered away from the toe Daniel was using to edge him in the right direction. Daniel bent to pick him up and tried to set the cat on the doorstep, but Mr. Spock managed to hook his claws into the sleeves of the sweatshirt Daniel had put on after running.

With a sigh, he headed through the garden toward Mandy's patio, where she always seemed to sit in the early evening, or at least, she had been whenever he'd been working in the yard. The bushes that had been planted as a separation between the two places remained small and sparse, and one had died. He hadn't intended to observe her comings and goings, but it was difficult not to notice.

“Uh, Mandy?” he called, unsure of how he'd be received. They hadn't parted that afternoon on the most cordial of notes. “Is it okay if I bring Mr. Spock over? He won't let go of my sleeve.”

“Sure.”

Daniel walked through the gap in the bushes and saw Mandy pulling herself out of the low Adirondack chair.

“Sorry if he's being a problem,” she said. “I've been keeping him inside, but he got so beastly about it that I finally let him out again.”

“Don't need to bother on my account. He's even made me wonder if we should get a dog or a cat. I'm not sure which Samantha would prefer.”

“Just remember a cat rarely does what he's told. They understand a lot of what we want, but that doesn't mean they comply.”

He recalled her comment the other day about him being more of a dog person. “I suppose a dog is easier to live with.”

Mandy shrugged. “Not necessarily. A cat is largely self-cleaning and doesn't have to be walked or let out to do its business. On the other hand, my mother and father considered getting me a dog when I was a kid so I'd have to take some responsibility. They're big on learning accountability.”

“I hadn't thought about that.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Nearly six. I suppose she
could
handle a lot of the dog's needs,” he said, trying to sort it out in his head. Could a first-grader be expected to take care of a dog, or was that too much responsibility? He had nothing in his own childhood for comparison.

Mandy bit her lip as though she wanted to say something, but was trying to refrain.

“What is it?” Daniel prompted.

“Nothing. It's none of my business.”

“You might as well say it...or maybe I can guess. Five might be too young to be given responsibility for a pet. That's just what I was questioning.”

“Sure, but as I said, it's none of my business, and it depends on the individual kid.”

“How old were you when your parents started the discussion?”

“Six.”

“Was that too young for you?”

“I don't know, although my parents expected my brothers and me to be miniature adults from the minute we could walk. Ultimately, they didn't get the dog because they don't like dog hair or barking, and anything warm or cuddly is basically off their agenda. Dad prefers reading about Odysseus's faithful hound, to actually having one. When I was eight, they gave me what they called a pretend dog—sort of a virtual pet, like those eggs that high school students have to parent for a week.”

“The egg? Good grief, I'd forgotten all about that project.”

“Yeah. I don't know how it works with the egg, but it wasn't the same for me. I mean, there's far more incentive to care for an animal that can love you back.”

He nodded. “It's something to think about.” Briefly he considered bringing up their conversation earlier that afternoon, and decided against it. This was a discussion between neighbors, not about the workplace. And for someone who appeared to respond from an emotional base, Mandy didn't seem to hold grudges. Or maybe she was one of those rare people who could leave work disputes at the office door.

She cocked her head. “Are you aware you're still holding Mr. Spock?”

Daniel grinned. “He's so heavy, it's hard to forget. I wouldn't have expected a cat to enjoy being held this way.”

“I don't know about most cats, but Mr. Spock seems to like it. After work I have to carry him around the house for a while—I call it walking the baby. Maybe he needs the reassurance because he was abandoned.”

“You're probably right,” Daniel agreed. He handed the cat to Mandy. “Have a nice evening.”

“You, too.”

He slipped through the gap in the bushes and decided to call Samantha and see what she thought about dogs or cats. Strangely, he was leaning toward the feline version of a pet.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
Y
 
THE
 
FOLLOWING
 
Thursday, Mandy had reminded herself for the gazillionth time that the past week hadn't been typical of life in Willow's Eve.

The blasted water issue was causing problems, dominating the conversation at the Senior Center and generating consternation. Mandy especially felt sorry for poor Caroline White. Everyone assumed she had the inside track on the situation because her son was the mayor.

“What am I supposed to say when people ask about the water?” Caroline wailed late that afternoon. She'd dropped by Mandy's office after everyone else was gone, looking unusually unhappy. “They think I know confidential information.”

Mandy smiled sympathetically. “Tell them the same as I do, that you don't know a thing and they should contact the mayor.”

A guilty expression crossed the other woman's face. “I suppose so,” she said.

“You
do
know something about what's going on, don't you?” Mandy guessed.

“No, not exactly. Howard talks about it, but only in general terms, or...”

Mandy held up a hand. “Don't say a thing. I'm
not
looking for privileged information.”

“You're the only one,” Caroline grumped, smoothing her hair. It was an attractive ash blond, carefully tinted each week at the little salon on Main Street. She was quite conscious of her appearance, being a former mayor's wife, and the current mayor's mother.

Biting back a smile, Mandy handed her a cup of coffee and settled back in her chair. She should have guessed something was going on—Caroline had come into the office looking harried, then had turned and closed the door for privacy. For the most part, she was comfortable with the attention she received, but with the growing controversy over the water issue, the attention had obviously become less positive.

“It's just that...oh, maybe I shouldn't say anything,” Caroline continued, sounding more like herself, which was also the way her son approached issues. How a man who dithered so much had become mayor could be explained only by his father and grandfather being in the office before him.

“Anyway...” She leaned forward confidentially. “Joe Jensen has been pushing Howard for the past year to do something. That's why he was so anxious to get a trained city manager in place. We need someone who can figure this out.”

Mandy felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Daniel. He'd definitely been thrown into the lion's den. At the thought, a giggle threatened to escape her. Daniel? In the lion's den? What was that joke she'd heard...something about a kid looking at the picture of Daniel in the lion's den and her mother thinking her daughter was worried about Daniel, but instead the kid was sorry for the poor little lion that wasn't going to get anything to eat.

“Is something amusing, dear?” Caroline asked.

“Just me and my strange sense of humor.”

“Of course.”

The seniors in the program seemed to appreciate the way she found humor in odd moments, though they often didn't understand what was funny. Some had even started bringing in amusing items they'd seen in books or magazines, so she'd accused them of adding fuel to the fire. People had thought she was strange in most of the places she'd lived, so their acceptance meant a lot.

Caroline seemed uncertain, then stood and moved toward the door. “I'd better go home, before I, uh, say anything I shouldn't. Are you leaving for the day?”

“As soon as I turn off the computer.”

Caroline walked out, looking slightly less stressed than when she'd arrived. It must be hard for her to constantly guard her tongue. She probably didn't know much that couldn't be shared, but whatever she
did
say would probably be taken wrong.

The thought of Daniel's unwanted advice tiptoed through Mandy's head again. The mayor probably hadn't realized it applied to him as well.

As she exited City Hall, she saw Daniel standing at the base of the steps, gazing toward Main Street.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“I was just considering whether to try one of the restaurants.”

“Elena's is good. So is the pizza parlor. I don't eat much seafood, so I haven't tried Rossi's.”

“Maybe I won't bother,” he said after a moment. “I'm mostly procrastinating about going back to an empty house.”

Mandy winced. She went home alone all the time, but Daniel was used to having his family around. He was probably lonely.

“You're welcome to have dinner on the patio with me,” she offered, though spending time with him might be a bad idea. “Fair warning though—it'll be girlie food.”

His right eyebrow rose. “Girlie food?”

“Quiche and salad. Don't you remember the old saying, ‘Real men don't eat quiche'?”

“Yes, but I never paid much attention.”

“So anyway, that's the offer. I've got plenty. I just need to throw the quiche in the microwave.”

* * *

D
ANIEL
 
HESITATED
. T
HERE
was an undeniable appeal to the thought of eating dinner with someone else. Hell, on Tuesday Mandy had been late getting home and Mr. Spock had made one of his demanding entrances. So Daniel had put some tuna on a saucer and let the cat eat it on the kitchen table with him, just for the company. However, it was the first and last time he'd do something so ridiculous.... The cat had the table manners of a slob.

“That sounds good,” he said finally. “If you're sure it won't be an imposition.”

Her eyes said as plain as day that he sounded pompous again.

“In half an hour or so?” was the only thing she said.

“Great.”

He drove to the Victorian, and answered his cell phone as he pulled into the garage.

“Hello.”

“It's me, Daddy.”

“Hi, pumpkin. How was your day?”

“Okay. But first grade is silly. You already taught me to read.”

“Well, your preschool and kindergarten helped with that.”

At four, Samantha had been wild to begin reading, fascinated with things such as trying to understand the letters and why Es and Fs looked so much alike. By her fifth birthday she'd started reading picture books, though she still wanted someone to read to her before going to sleep. He was glad—their quiet time together was precious to him.

“Um, Grandma wants to talk.”

A moment later, Joyce's voice came on the line. “Hello, Daniel.”

“Hi, Joyce. Everything all right on your end?”

“Fine. I'll be ready to leave whenever we decide it's right.”

“Great. I miss having my family with me.”

“By now I hope you've become acquainted with folks and are enjoying their company.”

He grinned. Joyce's query reminded him of parents checking with their socially awkward child to see if he was making friends. And he couldn't deny that as a boy, he
had
been socially awkward. An only child of continually battling parents, he'd kept to himself, branching out only in high school...once he noticed girls.

“A few,” he told his former mother-in-law. “I'm actually having dinner with one of them tonight.”

“I'm so glad. Have a nice time.”

They said good-night and Daniel went to change into jeans and a T-shirt. In the kitchen, he glanced around to see if there was something he could bring to add to the impromptu meal; the only items that seemed appropriate were bottles of soda water. The wine was out. It might make it seem like a date.

As he came through the gap between the bushes, Mandy was setting napkins and silverware on the small patio table.

She glanced up. “Just in time. Have a seat.”

“I brought soda water in case you like it.”

“I'm addicted to the stuff.”

“Great.”

A few minutes later, she carried out plates with a large slice of quiche for him and a smaller piece for herself.

“I hope you're not giving me part of your dinner,” he said.

“There's plenty more. If you want seconds, please say so. I'm glad to share since it sometimes gets too old before I can finish the whole thing.”

They sat and Mandy pushed a bowl of salad toward him. He served himself and she did the same, but she seemed distracted and finally looked at him.

“I need you to know I wasn't coming on to you, or thinking this was a date or anything like that,” she said in a rush. “I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone because I don't want to get tied down.”

“No, of course not. That seemed clear when you talked about being a wanderer,” he answered, startled by her vehemence. He'd never heard a woman launch into the subject so baldly.

“Good. We're neighbors and we work in the same place, and we ought to be able to share a meal without either one of us getting silly ideas. It's just that something happened back in Phoenix and I feel bad about it, only...well, I never saw it coming.”

* * *

M
ANDY
 
FELT
 
AWKWARD
.
She didn't know if she was explaining herself properly, but she hadn't forgotten the surprised confusion in Bill's eyes. Not that she believed he'd been desperately in love with her, but he'd still gotten hurt by the whole thing.

“It was stupid,” she continued. “I was working a temp job while the company moved from Tucson to Phoenix. I like temp jobs because everyone knows it's short-term from the start. But Bill thought I was going to stay. He wasn't my direct supervisor, but he was management in the same division and never did anything remotely out of line. You'd like him. He's big on rules, too. Anyway, I thought he was just friendly and nice.”

“Instead he was interested in you?” Daniel guessed.

“Yeah. On my last day, he got all weird because he'd expected me to apply for a permanent job in another part of the company, and that way, there wouldn't be any questions about it being inappropriate for us to start dating. I'd never said I was staying or wanted to live in Phoenix, but his feelings still got hurt.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“That's nice of you to say,” Mandy said, still wondering if she should have figured out what Bill had hoped for earlier, so she could have made sure he understood.

“People have to take responsibility for themselves. It sounds as if this guy made assumptions based on what he wanted, rather than anything you'd done.”

She picked up her fork. “I guess. Anyway, I thought you should know I'm not trying to get something going.”

Daniel shrugged. “I'm getting used to being single again myself. You're right. It's best to be up-front about it, no games. I'm in no hurry to get involved with anyone, so I feel the same as you. I don't know. Maybe it's archaic in today's world to think you can spend a whole life with one person.”

Mandy shook her head. “I don't think so. I still believe in love and that marriage can work. I just doubt it's for me. I've never fit anywhere for long.”

“You think it's a question of fitting in?”

“Partly, and I don't want someone else getting hurt because I can't make be what they want. My ex sure didn't understand why I walked out. He still doesn't.”

“What if you meet a guy with itchy feet and a longing to grow giant cabbages in Alaska?”

“Hey, if he's got a VW, we might be perfect together,” she said with a smile. Suddenly, the quiche tasted delicious. She'd always sucked at romance and did much better with friendship.

“So, when does your family arrive?” she asked.

“A date hasn't been set. We thought it would be best if I got things settled here first, and, well, there's some other stuff going on, too. Joyce also had a few doctor's appointments she wanted to keep.”

“She's not sick, is she?”

“No, but she's sixty-five and has to pay attention to her health. We didn't know how difficult it would be for her to get started with a physician in this area.”

Mandy nodded. She was looking forward to meeting Joyce. Now that she and Daniel had cleared the air, they could be good neighbors without the silliness of romance getting in the way.

It didn't mean she was no longer attracted to him, but she could cope with that without anyone else being the wiser.

* * *

O
N
T
HURSDAY
 
EVENING
 
Susan walked into her kitchen, the knot of muscles in her lower back protesting loudly. Returning to work at the mill after a break did this to her. She'd never mentioned it to Chris because he would just say she should quit. But if she got a job in Vicksville, which was the most likely place to find an accounting position, he'd fuss about her commuting and burning fossil fuels.

Thank goodness tomorrow was Friday and she'd have the weekend to regroup. It had been a difficult week in more ways than one. Chris was angry over the proposed water project and they'd been sniping off and on...actually, more
on
than off, and
sniping
was a kind word to describe the argument they'd had two evenings ago. They'd made up, but there was lingering tension.

She popped a couple of aspirins and decided to make eggplant Parmesan for dinner. It was one of their favorite dishes, and cooking might help her relax. Forty minutes later, she finished cutting up salad vegetables and removed the eggplant from the oven. The meal was ready, but what was keeping Chris? He usually let her know if he was going to be late.

An hour later, the food was cold and she put everything into the refrigerator, about to call the highway patrol to see if there'd been an accident when Chris's car pulled up in front of the house. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took the food out of the fridge. It was annoying that he hadn't called, but not worth getting upset about.