BY 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.”
* * *
DANIEL HESITATED. THERE 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.”
* * *
MANDY 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.
* * *
ON THURSDAY 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.
“Hey,” she greeted him as he stomped into the kitchen. Her smile faded when she saw the glower on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“That damned water project,” he growled. “Everyone in town is buzzing over it. They’re talking about a new reservoir, and maybe digging up everything and covering a big section of land with treatment ponds. Just what we need is to ruin more of the environment.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Susan served the eggplant Parmesan onto a plate and put it into the microwave, one modern convenience that Chris actually appreciated.
“The council is simply examining different possibilities,” she said finally...for the hundredth time. Why couldn’t he be part of the process, instead of automatically assuming the entire thing was going to be an environmental disaster?
“You know very well they’re going to do that.”
“How would I know?”
“Because your father is behind it.”
“He’s simply concerned about jobs,” she tried to say evenly.
“Jobs? The only thing he cares about is the almighty buck, and he doesn’t care what he does to the environment to get it.”
Susan slammed the silverware drawer shut. “That isn’t fair. You know that Dad no longer buys lumber from people who clear-cut.”
“So he claims.”
“It isn’t a claim. It’s true,” she snapped back. “I’m the financial officer for the mill and I know what businesses we’re dealing with.”
“It doesn’t make any difference. You can’t do one token thing to look politically correct and then call yourself an environmentalist.”
“Don’t be so self-righteous.”
Chris crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s better than destroying the environment for the sake of a dollar.”
Couldn’t he ever see the other side of an issue? The environment was important, but people needed to live and to make a living, and all of that required water.
“Be reasonable,” she said through gritted teeth. “The paper mill is the only major employer here in Willow’s Eve.”
“Naturally you’re taking your father’s side.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but he turned on his heel and strode out the door again.
Susan ran after him. “Where are you going?” she yelled.
“To my office.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
If she’d been holding the salad bowl, she might have thrown it at him.
* * *
AT FOUR ON Friday afternoon, Mandy decided she may as well leave for the week. She stretched and thought about what to do with the weekend. She could drive into Vicksville and watch a movie. There was a new science-fiction flick playing at the theater that looked interesting.
Of course, it would be more fun to go with someone. She considered asking Daniel if he’d be interested, but decided against it. She didn’t know what kind of movies he liked, and even if they’d cleared the air so there wouldn’t be any misinterpretations, she didn’t think spending two evenings together in a row was the best idea. Oh, well. She was good at doing things by herself.
Humming, she drove home and found Susan Russell sitting in one of the front-porch chairs.
“What are you doing here?” she called. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a date with your husband this evening?”
“I wish.” Susan looked up, her eyes red and miserable. “Chris and I aren’t going out tonight. It’s that wretched water project. We’ve been arguing more and more about it, to the point we’re practically at each other’s throats. So this afternoon I finally said we shouldn’t go anywhere.”
A cold chill shivered through Mandy’s gut; she hated having her friends at odds with each other, especially friends who seemed to be so happy together. Maybe it would help if she gave Susan a chance to vent.
“Come in,” she invited. “I have more than enough ice cream to get us through the evening.”
Susan sighed and held up a grocery sack. “Good. I brought potato chips.”
* * *
CHRIS RUSSELL SUCKED down the last of his nonalcoholic beer and tossed the bottle into the recycle bin outside the office door. He would have preferred the real thing, but alcohol wasn’t permitted in the forestry station. Of course, technically he was on the porch and not in the building, but he refused to split hairs on technicalities.
Anyway, it wasn’t the beer he needed, it was the solitude, so he’d come out to sit on the porch and look into the woods. This way he also wouldn’t have to wait before heading home to be sure his blood alcohol levels were within legal limits. He’d been careful with booze since some stupidities in his youth.
A young buck stepped out of the woods and dropped its head to nibble on wild grasses. It was so beautiful that Chris’s chest ached. Every year, more of the wildlands were lost, and even within his own field of study, experts didn’t agree about how the remaining land should be administered.
He sighed.
It wasn’t just the water and sewer issue bothering him; he shouldn’t have agreed to canceling date night with his wife. Of course, the two things were tangled up together and Susan had claimed they’d just argue. Maybe she was right. Their relationship had seemed out of whack lately, and he wasn’t sure it was only their differing opinions about the proposed town project. But what was it? Evan leaving for college?
For a long time, Chris stared at the buck grazing nearby, but when it disappeared into the woods again, he went into the office. Might as well get something accomplished. He fired up the computer, and then tried to bury himself in his work.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” a voice asked twenty minutes later.
He looked up and saw his coworker John Marley strolling through the door. John was the newest addition to the staff and had earned Chris’s approval because of his passionate commitment to environmental preservation.
“Thought I’d come in and get that report finished,” he told the younger man.
“I didn’t know it was so urgent.”
“It isn’t, but I was restless and figured tonight was as good a time as any.”
“If I had a wife as gorgeous as yours, I wouldn’t be working late on a Friday.”
With a weak grin, Chris shrugged. “I think she’s hanging out with a friend of ours. By the way, we thought you’d like to meet Mandy—if you’re interested. She’s pretty and lots of fun.”
“She isn’t a vegetarian, is she?” John asked warily. They’d had a few “discussions” on the subject and he was firmly in the meat eater’s corner.
“Nope.”
“Then I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll try to set something up.” Even as he said it, Chris thought a double date could have been the way to make the evening work out with his wife. With another couple along, it might have kept the conversation more neutral.
It seemed forever since last Friday and the kind of hot sex they’d enjoyed before Evan had been born—and on their recent vacation. You couldn’t be as spontaneous when you had a child, though appreciating their freedom didn’t stop either of them from missing their son. Susan had wanted more kids, but he’d convinced her otherwise. It was true he cared about overpopulation, only he hadn’t confessed his second reason...the fear of losing her with another difficult pregnancy and delivery.
“Say,” John said, interrupting Chris’s thoughts. “Do you know anything about this request for watershed information from the city manager’s office?”
His eyes narrowing, Chris glanced at the sheet of paper his colleague held. He’d angrily tossed it into John’s in-basket earlier that afternoon, since it was the younger man’s specialty. The letter had sent him home in a bad mood, resulting in the argument with Susan...which had brought him back to the office. It was one devil of a revolving cycle.
“Haven’t you heard? They’re considering options for additional water sources. Again. The issue came up years ago, but I thought it had been closed,” he said stiffly. “I should have known better.”
John’s lip curled. “I could give them a less-than-honest report. But I won’t, however tempted I might be.”
“No, it wouldn’t be right,” Chris agreed heavily. “Besides, my father-in-law will probably pay for an outside report to cross-check anything we provide. He’s suspicious of ‘tree huggers.’”
“What does your father-in-law have to do with it?”
Chris let out an ironic chuckle. “You don’t know? He’s Joe Jensen.”
“Of the paper mill, that Joe Jensen?”
“Yup. He doesn’t care how much of our beautiful countryside he has to rip apart, so long as he gets water to expand and make more money.”
“Puts you in one hell of a spot with your wife, doesn’t it?” John observed perceptively.
“I’m used to it,” Chris answered, not wanting to discuss his marital woes, though Susan would probably unload on Mandy that evening.
“I’m through for the day,” John said at length. “You’ll lock up?”
“Yeah, I’m only going to stay for a little while.”
“See you Monday.”
“Right.”
Chris worked another hour, polishing the report, before switching off the computer. He generally got to the office early so he could be home by the time Susan finished at the mill or with her volunteer projects. It hadn’t thrilled him when she’d gone to work part-time as the paper mill’s financial officer. She’d wanted to be a stay-at-home mom when Evan was little, but when he was older, she’d trained in accounting and looked for a job.
As he came into his very quiet, very empty house a while later, Chris considered having a real beer. But that was a slippery slope. One could lead so easily to another, then six more, as it had for his father. He turned on the TV instead and found a historical documentary to watch.
It wasn’t much of an evening, especially remembering last Friday. But it was better than spending it arguing with his wife. Why was she sticking up for her father’s point of view?
Maybe it was old-fashioned, but Chris couldn’t help feeling that a husband and wife should be on the same side.
* * *
MANDY SCOOPED FUDGE ripple into Susan’s dish, deciding on a much smaller serving of lemon sherbet for herself. After a bowl of potato chips and six servings of ice cream, she was nauseous.
Susan took the bowl and shoved a spoonful into her mouth; Mandy didn’t think she was really aware of what she was eating.
Pushing her sherbet away, Mandy told herself it was only an argument. Chris and Susan would work it out, she was sure of it. Chris loved his wife so much, he’d managed to live with the fact that his father-in-law held the opposite opinion on almost everything Chris believed in the most. And Susan had married him, knowing it would be a constant battle, but she’d loved Chris in return too much to let it stop her.
Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t tensions beneath the surface.
“He seems to think I should adopt the exact same opinion as him, just because he’s the man and I’m his wife,” Susan grumbled. “He has all these enlightened ideas and then wham, one from the Dark Ages shows up. Strike that, the Neanderthal age.”
“Oh?” Mandy said, choosing her words carefully. “He never struck me as the caveman type.”
“He’s a man,” Susan answered, as if that was enough of an explanation. And it was true that some men still had a hard time getting away from old-fashioned attitudes. But Mandy had grown up with a father who was far worse, and brothers who could give lessons in regression, so Chris had seemed pretty fair-minded to her.
“It might not be that exactly,” she suggested. “People can go overboard when they’re arguing and say things they don’t completely mean.”
Her mind strayed to Daniel Whittier, and she wondered where he fell on the scale of progressiveness. She had been surprised to learn he’d been divorced and that his daughter would be living with him, which was a fair indicator his wife wasn’t interested in her own kid. It was good the girl had a dad who cared about her.
Mandy leaned forward. “I left my husband because he wanted to turn me into a Stepford wife, a clone of all those university wives I’d seen growing up. Surely things aren’t that bad, are they?” she asked carefully.
“I suppose not.” Susan made a face at her bowl. “If I eat any more ice cream, I’m going to be blotto.”
“You’re already a little pie-eyed,” Mandy joked, winning a small smile from her friend. “You’re welcome to spend the entire night, you know. I could make up the bed in the spare room. But is it where you truly want to be?”
“No. I just don’t want to go back to another argument.” Suddenly, Susan pushed herself off the couch. “Nevertheless, it’s almost nine and I’d better get going. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime, you know that.”
Susan hugged her and left, her shoulders just as tense as when she’d arrived. Mandy put their ice cream bowls into the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen.
She could still go to a late movie, but wasn’t in the mood anymore after sharing Susan’s unhappiness all evening.
In every place she’d lived, Mandy had made good friends. They stayed in touch, mostly by email because they said that keeping up with her physical address was worse than chasing a shadow. Those friends had problems, too, and she’d written and sympathized, even phoned if things seemed especially tough. But their problems had never hit her as hard as what was happening with Chris and Susan.
Maybe it was because they had made a happy marriage look possible. Not necessarily for her, but for some people. Her parents’ lives seemed more like a collegial partnership than marriage, and she’d met a ton of people whose relationships were falling apart, or had fallen apart.
But if Susan and Chris couldn’t pull it off...
Mandy determinedly switched on the TV and tried to concentrate on a program, but when it was half-over, she realized she hadn’t paid any attention.
When the phone rang, she was grateful for the interruption.
“Hello.”
“Mandy, this is Daniel.” He sounded harried. “Sorry to call so late, but do you know where the water shutoff is over here? I’ve got water spraying all over the laundry room.”
“I’ll be right there.” She dropped the phone, grabbed a flashlight and raced out of the house.