Kate watched Donovan stalk off, her heart aching a bit more than it should. He was a grown man. It had been his decision to come back here, not hers. Still…Maybe he didn’t think he was being obvious, that she’d think the reason he was suddenly being all business was on account of her hands-off rule. But she’d seen emotions flicker across that handsome face of his that had nothing to do with the kisses they’d shared, or the fact that he was disappointed he wouldn’t be getting any more of them. Or of anything else, for that matter.
She shivered a little, thinking about how he’d tasted, how he’d kissed her as though he knew her, as though he’d been kissing her for decades. No. She firmly shook her head. No more of those. One little make-out session was already one session too many. But she found herself watching Donovan’s retreat, nonetheless.
She shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He’d hate it if he knew she’d felt an ounce of pity, even for a second. He was right—they were both products of their upbringing, but mostly as a measure of their ability to overcome some pretty serious obstacles. Hers might not have been so obvious, but his…his had been out there for all the world to see. And judge. Which had made his obstacles that much bigger. Donny Mac hadn’t made any attempt to hide his contempt over being saddled with Marlene’s “brat kid” as he’d often called his only son. Conveniently forgetting he’d been involved in the business end of creating his son, too. Then, in addition to dealing with an alcoholic father and a less than stable home life, Mac had spent Memorial Day through Labor Day each and every summer surrounded by an immediate peer group who happened to not only be from the better side of the tracks, but so far beyond the MacLeod’s as to be in a different stratosphere.
Louisa had kept Donny Mac in her employ only because, despite his drinking and occasional brushups with the local law, he had magic hands when it came to any kind of machinery. He could fix anything, keep anything running, and though not always the most dependable person, he had saved the day on more than one occasion.
Donovan had inherited that gift, but it didn’t earn him any respect from the campers. To them, he was just the scruffy son of the drunk handyman. A fact they took great pleasure in torturing him with all summer long, as far back as she could remember. Humiliating him—or trying to—had been one of their favorite sports. Even the counselors, who most often came from outlying counties, were from more improved circumstances than his, and tended to look the other way when their young charges indulged in their smug torment.
Donovan had always more than held his own, his hands being good for more than fixing engines as it turned out. Even so, it hadn’t been right. But Kate had known better than to interfere directly. She’d tried to talk to her mother about it on several occasions, but Louisa felt she’d already done her civic duty in providing a job for Donny Mac in the first place. “Giving him a hand up in the world,” she’d say, as if her benevolence was strictly charitable and she gained nothing from their arrangement. When the truth was that Louisa Sutherland saw life as an endless business proposition, and ran her own—and her children’s when she could—accordingly. Louisa already had what she wanted from Donny Mac and flatly refused to involve herself further. She’d allowed him to park his tiny, beat-up trailer behind the mechanic’s building on the far side of the maintenance lot, and she’d said nothing about him having his son work for him at a far younger age than was acceptable. It wasn’t her place to step in between parent and child, she’d say. Kate knew better than to argue further.
Instead, she’d watched from a distance as Donovan had handled the ribbing, the catcalls, the demands that he step and fetch, all with a seething grace. He’d never looked bowed, or beaten, which she was certain had been a big part of why they never left him alone. It irritated them that someone so obviously beneath them in every measurable standard managed to somehow maintain his dignity and integrity, no matter how boldly they tried to rob him of it.
Worse by far was the fact that all the girls at camp wanted him almost desperately. And though he seemed rather nonchalant about it, Kate suspected he’d taken enormous pleasure in claiming what they saw as theirs. And claim them he had, she thought with a sigh. The girls all talked about him, lusted after him, drooled over him…and found many a reason to wander down the dusty road to the maintenance sheds after dark.
Except for Kate. Who, by virtue of being the camp owner’s daughter, was an outsider in her own way at Winnimocca. Her family bank account might have slowly grown to rival those of the camp attendees, and, in fact, exceed a few. But no matter how high scale the camp, or the fact that it was one of many things Louisa owned, at Winnimocca, Kate was the innkeeper’s daughter. She smiled, thinking of the resentment Donovan had felt toward her privileged lifestyle.
And yet, ironically, she’d rarely felt the pampered princess he’d thought her to be. Okay…pampered, maybe. Her life was a far stretch from his in that regard. But princess? Hardly. There was room for only one royal in their little dysfunctional family, and it was Louisa who’d worn that crown. She and Shelby had been mere pawns, used to an advantage, set against each other when deemed necessary. Now that crown had been passed to Shelby.
Who’s become an even bigger royal pain, she thought with a grimace. Impossible as that seemed. Her thoughts came full circle back to her reason for coming to town today. She got out of the truck, eyes still on Donovan—Mac’s—retreating form. So different, the two of them, but more alike than he’d ever want to admit.
Yes, as a teenager, she’d known she had a privileged lifestyle. She was surrounded by everything a girl could ever want. Except the one thing money couldn’t buy: love she didn’t have to earn. George, her stepfather, had come closer than anyone, but left their lives too soon to help her during the more trying adolescent years. Louisa’s affection had always come with conditions. Ever-changing conditions.
Shelby played her game and played it quite well. Not Kate. From the day she’d become a legal adult, she had refused to join in any further, and had instantly become the black sheep for her indifference. She’d been cut off and put out. It wasn’t until she’d made the move to contact her mother’s attorney to set up the meeting about the camp property that she’d learned her mother was even ill. Shelby, of course, hadn’t bothered to tell her. Not that they’d kept in any kind of regular contact, either, but still. They were the only family each other had.
Wasn’t it odd, she thought, as she watched Donovan turn the corner up Brevard, that of all the people she’d known growing up, he’d been the one person her romantic teenage heart had always imagined would understand her plight. She remembered thinking that if she could only explain to him that they had more in common than he realized, he’d stop looking at her like he did, with that disconcerting combination of lust and disdain…and look at her the way she wanted him to. Which was a whole lot like he had back in the cab of her truck. Right before he’d kissed her senseless.
It was her only excuse for letting him…for kissing him back. Or so she told herself. She looked at the now empty street corner and wondered if he’d stick to her rules.
Wondered if she really wanted him to.
Resolutely, she turned away and headed the opposite direction down Tower. She had business to take care of, which didn’t involve Donovan “Mac” MacLeod, no matter that he thought he should know all about her business. She wasn’t going to turn down help if it meant getting the camp up and running, but if there was going to be a camp to get up and running, then she had to figure out how to get the town to back her endeavor with more enthusiasm. Any enthusiasm, really.
She thought about the connection Donovan had made between the vandalism and the townspeople being apathetic to her business propositions. Was the developer involved in some way? And how did that tie into Shelby’s no-show yesterday, if at all?
She smiled ruefully now, remembering the highly detailed fantasies she’d had of how she and Donovan would share their tales of woe, become star-crossed lovers, with a unique bond that no one else understood but them, joined forever to face down the taunts and torments of the outside world, so strong in their union that no one could defeat them.
Typical foolish teenage fantasy.
So that did little to explain why she was having a hard time shaking the feeling that he’d finally ridden to her rescue after all. It had just taken a little longer than she’d imagined.
Shoving shaky hands into her pockets, she congratulated herself on being strong enough, mature enough, to rise above her foolish weakness where he was concerned. She’d laid down the law, and he’d listened. Now all she had to do was uphold her own rules. “No sweat.” Uncurling her hands and smoothing them on her pants, she slowed as she reached her destination. She had to shove Donovan from her mind and focus on her reason for coming into town.
She’d planned on seeing Gilby first, but decided it was for the best to accept Mac’s help in that particular case. While she’d like to think she didn’t need rescuing at this point in her life, she hadn’t gotten anywhere with Gilby the last time. Perhaps having someone with Donovan’s police background by her side would change that. She was kind of hoping he’d know what to say to motivate Gilby to take a stronger interest in looking into her vandalism problem.
A bell jingled when she pushed open the door to the Ralston Chamber of Commerce. Hopefully Stan wouldn’t mind her showing up a bit earlier than planned. The office was a cramped space squeezed between the town’s only barber and beauty shop. The faint smell of permanent wave solution and coffee lingered in the air. She tried not to wrinkle her nose, but it wasn’t easy.
She was ostensibly meeting with Stan to garner his support and pick his brain over ideas and ways to promote her camp in both Ralston and the rest of the county. Her real mission, however, was to make sure he knew how serious she was about getting the camp up and running, and maybe gain a little insight about why the townspeople were being so standoffish. Donovan’s ideas about the vandalism and the supposed developer deal being connected had to be factored in now, too. She wasn’t sure she believed there was a bigger conspiracy to this whole thing, but until she talked to Shelby, she’d have to at least take it into consideration.
The reception area was tiny. There was a Formica-topped desk, the surface of which was mostly consumed by an old computer monitor and keyboard. What little space was left over held a bank of two phones and a card file. On the paneled wall behind the desk was a rather grand plaque, bearing a shiny gold plate announcing the offices of the Ralston Chamber of Commerce, founded in 1927, and proudly delivering over seventy-five years of dedicated service to the community.
There was no one, dedicated or not, seated at the desk, so Kate stepped around it to the only two doors leading from the room. One was propped open, revealing a coat and storage closet, so she knocked on the closed one. “Stan?” she called out, and tapped again. “It’s Kate Sutherland. I’m early. Hope that’s okay.”
She stepped back and waited, but no one came out. She checked her watch. She’d called him before leaving for the city yesterday to confirm their meeting, and the secretary—or whoever had answered the phone, a woman anyway—had told her they were in by eight and to drop by anytime. She’d confirmed for nine o’clock, which wasn’t for another forty-five minutes, but that didn’t explain why they’d left the place unlocked and empty. “So much for dedicated community service,” she murmured.
She stepped back and glanced in the coat closet. It was still early enough in the spring to warrant at least a jacket most mornings. There was only a handful of empty hangars, and one lone umbrella, propped just inside the door, along with several cartons of printer paper and a bulk package of paper towels shoved in the opposite end.
Where the hell was everybody? Not that the streets of Ralston were ever a beehive of activity, but, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a single soul on her way into town. Of course, it was after eight on a weekday morning. Everybody was likely busy doing whatever it was they got paid to do.
She turned and saw the wall behind her sported two framed prints of what looked like early paintings of the town. But the predominant feature was a giant cork board, filled to bursting with flyers, business cards, anything and everything any business or businessperson in town might want to advertise. Including…she leaned closer…yep, that’s what the postcard said all right.
Mounted deer head for sale. Nice eight-point. Will look good over your fireplace!
Then she smiled when she saw the name scribbled next to the phone numbers on the fringe of handy tear-off tags: Edna. Somehow she doubted the deer head was Edna’s, but around here, you could never be too sure.
She skimmed the other cards, half expecting to see another one from Edna listing a recliner, television, and remote, but no such luck. What she also didn’t see was any kind of cohesive promotion for the town businesses. No brochures or print-shop-produced flyers.
She turned back around and leaned over the desk. There was no scheduling book that she saw, and when she inadvertently jiggled the monitor, it shifted out of sleep mode to show a half-played hand of solitaire. She looked at the plaque again and wondered what their definition of “service” was.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she needed to pump Stan for information, she’d head back to her truck and wait for Donovan. She hadn’t expected miracles, but she had hoped for more than this. Given the looks of the place, she’d probably learn more about the comings and goings of everybody in Ralston sitting next door at the beauty shop, getting her nails done.
She glanced down at her hands. If she still had any, that was.
She debated on leaving a note, but decided she’d try again after visiting Sheriff Gilby. Just as she turned to leave, the bell jingled, and a stooped, gray-haired gentleman stepped through the doorway. He smiled, no look of recognition on his face. No surprise. She hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time in Ralston as yet. But that would change. Whether they liked it or not. “Hello,” she said brightly, extending her hand. “You must be Stan. I’m Kate. Kate Sutherland.”
He regarded her steadily, his expression unreadable. He took her hand in a gentle grip and, after what could barely be called a handshake, let her hand drop. Perhaps he was just one of those men who thought all women were fragile. He was of that generation. In fact, he looked old enough to have been here during all seventy-five years of that so-called dedicated service.
“I’m not Stan,” he corrected. “Bob Varnick. Stan’s down at Deenie’s, having a cup of coffee. Must have forgot you were coming.”
Kate nodded, smiled, but privately thought something was off about this little “accidental” meeting. “You and Stan run the office here together?” It was a probing question, since, as he was dressed in overalls, a heavy flannel jacket, and a gimme cap, she seriously doubted it.
“Uh, no, no, in fact, we don’t. I—I just stopped by to…” He drifted momentarily until spying the tack board behind Kate’s head. “Just stopping in like I always do, catch up on what’s going on.”
“There isn’t anyone else here, it seems. I don’t know where the receptionist is either.”
He nodded toward the board behind her. “Just checking out the board. Stan never locks up. Whole town uses the bulletin board. You’d be surprised what you can piece together from the flotsam that gets posted up there.”
Since she’d just been deducing the demise of Edna somebody’s marriage, she could hardly call him on that comment. Still, something didn’t seem right. “I bet.”
“New in town, aren’t you? Don’t recall seeing you here.” He said it matter-of-factly, as though he wasn’t exactly interested, or all that happy about spying a newcomer.
Or maybe Donovan’s conspiracy theories were just making her paranoid. Of course, she hadn’t exactly been feeling the love of the locals even before he’d shown up, but maybe she was seeing shadows where there weren’t any. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that good ol’ Bob here had been sent ’round to check her out. Or something. So far he’d been polite, but just barely, given the set expression on his face.
“Not exactly new here,” she answered him. “I used to come up here during the summer while I was growing up. My mother, Louisa, once owned Camp Winnimocca, south of here, on the lake. She passed on, and I’ve taken over the property. I’m planning on reopening it as a camp for challenged kids. Maybe you’ve heard something about it.”
“Can’t say that I have.”
It was hard to read the guy, but there wasn’t a flicker of recognition. Nor did he seem particularly interested in what she had to say. Still, how could he be older than dirt and not know who Louisa Sutherland was? It wasn’t as if people retired and moved to Ralston.
“Well, I think I’ll drop by Deenie’s and grab a coffee with Stan,” she said, with as much sunny cheer as she could inflect, mostly just to annoy the old guy. “Thanks for the heads-up. Appreciate it.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, Bob didn’t look too keen on that idea, but he merely nodded.
Yeah, the townsfolk just loved her. Didn’t know who she was, my ass. She took a step toward the door, then turned back. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any local contractors looking for work, would you? I’m going to be starting a large-scale renovation and reconstruction shortly, and I’m looking to get bids. I want to support my community, so I’m hoping to hire locally.”
She watched him closely, but he was pretty good at the inscrutable thing.
“Might want to post something on the board here. See what you get.”
Not a rousing endorsement, nor did he look particularly excited about the opportunity she was proposing. Could mean nothing, he could just be the town grouch, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She gave him her friendliest smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Bob. I’d appreciate you passing the word, if you wouldn’t mind.”
He didn’t say anything, but touched the bill of his hat, more out of habit, it seemed, than anything. His expression hadn’t so much as flickered since he walked in.
“Thanks,” she said, trying hard not to let the dry sarcasm she was feeling color her tone. She let herself out of the office, more bemused than anything. Some small towns had strange personalities. Maybe Ralston just wasn’t all that friendly to strangers. She’d never felt that way when she’d been younger, but she hadn’t really paid all that much attention back then. Nor had she spent much time in town.
There were a few people on the street now, and the sun was making a more concerted effort to poke out from behind the morning clouds. The town didn’t look much cheerier, even in the sunlight, and she caught herself wondering how she was going to handle living here full-time. Other than driving a few hours south to New York City, Ralston or a few others just like it would be it in terms of meeting all of her needs. Material and social.
Thank God, then, she’d learned some time ago to live without many of them. Her thoughts immediately went right back to the kiss with Donovan. Just the memory made her body come alive, and she privately cursed him for reminding her that some things were easier to live without than others.
She pushed the door open to Deenie’s and was surprised to find it pretty busy, almost half of the two dozen or so assorted tables and booths were occupied by at least one person. Many sipping coffee and reading the morning paper, some in private discussions of various volumes. One thing she didn’t see was cell phones and PDAs. Ralston wasn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology, and neither were most of its residents. Simple people, for the most part, leading relatively uncomplicated lives. Maybe that was why they were so resistant to her. Maybe they were just resistant to change.
People glanced up when the bell jingled, but no one seemed to pay her any specific kind of attention before returning to what they were doing. Maybe she was reading more into things than really existed. It could be just as elemental as she’d thought, that she was an outsider whom the locals hadn’t come to trust yet. Looking around Deenie’s, it was almost impossible to believe in secret developer plans and private conspiracies to keep her camp from becoming a reality. Which didn’t explain the vandalism. Or where Shelby had gone off to yesterday. But maybe they were just as easily explained. Maybe Donovan was just jaded and cynical from spending too many years on the streets of New York dealing with real criminals.
She ran a quick scan and tried to guess which customer was Stan. Then she heard a throaty laugh that drew her attention to a booth in the far corner. There sat a man in slacks and tie, no jacket, sleeves rolled up, silvering hair neatly combed to one side. He was cradling a mug of coffee in two hands and paying rapt attention to the short, amazingly buxom brunette seated across from him as she told an animated story punctuated by that laugh. Well, Kate thought, trying not to smirk, that explains where the receptionist was.
Kate waved the approaching waitress off and wove her way through the tables, back to their corner booth. As she drew closer, she noted that given the direction of Stan’s gaze, his attention was more closely fixed on how the woman’s animated hand motions made her wonder boobs bounce around than whatever it was she was saying. The woman seemed oblivious, her own coffee untouched as she continued on, clearly enjoying being the center of his attention.
A quick glance at Stan’s left hand showed a solid gold band. Hmm, no matching sparkler flashing about on the waving hand of the secretary. Imagine that. Stan looked up first when she closed in on their booth. It took the secretary a moment or two longer.
“And so I was saying to Hank, ‘Hank, you just can’t up and leave Lorinda like that. What will her family say?’” She defied gravity and leaned farther across the table. “And you know her family holds their purse strings tighter than—what?” She glanced up then when she realized she no longer had Stan’s exclusive attention. “Oh. Hello. Who are you?”
“Hello,” Kate replied, taking the woman’s open and not particularly friendly once-over in stride, along with the easy dismissal once she determined Kate was no competition in the bounce department. Maybe she was more aware of what her draw was where Stan was concerned than Kate had given her credit for.
She turned her attention to Stan and stuck out her hand. “Stan Harris? I’m Kate Sutherland. I believe we have an appointment this morning?”
Stan could have been a great used car salesman from the way his guarded expression changed instantly to one of sincere contrition. “Do we?” He released his hold on his coffee mug long enough to give her hand one quick, businesslike shake, his grin never wavering, his gaze easily fixed on hers. “I’m terribly sorry. Apparently we got our dates or the time mixed up.” He glanced at his receptionist with no censure, nor did she look remotely abashed. “This is Diane,” he said, “my secretary. I guess we’ll have to add scheduling to the list of business to be discussed this morning.” His accompanying laugh was as fake as Diane’s inch-long nails.
Diane didn’t offer her aggressively manicured hand to Kate. Having already sized Kate up and decided there was no contest, she merely nodded, then picked up her mug for a sip.
“Well,” Kate said, all forced smile and equally fake enthusiasm, “I do hate to interrupt your business meeting.” She tried not to put undue emphasis on those last two words, but it was mighty taxing. “But if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, I’d really appreciate a few moments of your time.”
Stan nodded easily, then glanced at his secretary, who continued sipping her coffee, until Stan cleared his throat. “Diane, we can continue our discussion back in the office. Would you mind terribly giving Ms. Sutherland and I a few moments? I’d so appreciate it. You’re a peach.”
Diane just stared at him, as if being dismissed for Kate simply would not compute, but when Stan’s perma-grin began to fade ever so slightly, she quickly regrouped and beamed an I’m-your-best-gal smile right back at him. “Why, of course. I have those—”
Solitaire games to finish, Kate thought, not entirely kindly.
“—reports to file,” she finished brightly, proud of herself for coming up with the cover.
“Thank you, hon,” Stan said, already dismissing her before she’d even finished grabbing her hot pink, faux alligator purse and sliding from the booth, apparently unfazed by the somewhat patronizing endearment. He was already motioning the waitress over. “Can I get you some coffee?”
Kate shifted aside to let a now huffy Diane past, then slid into the booth behind her. She smiled at the waitress. “Regular please, with cream?”
The waitress hustled off. Stan didn’t watch Diane’s stalking retreat. Instead he picked up his mug again. “What was it you wanted to see me about, Ms. Sutherland?”
“Kate, please.” She paused while the waitress set her mug down and used the moment to size Stan up. He was tall, with a slender build, and a few decades younger than his cohort back at the office. She figured mid-fifties. Compared to the other locals in the diner, who were mostly in work trousers, boots, and flannel, he appeared every inch the small-town successful businessman, along the lines of a banker or town councilman. His tie was neatly knotted, if a bit out of date, and his shirt pressed, though not tailored. His hair was freshly barbered, his face smoothly shaved, and his gray eyes clear and sharp on hers. Her guess was Stan didn’t miss much. And despite Diane’s overt lack of sophistication, she imagined his secretary didn’t miss much either.
She knew damn well they hadn’t forgotten her appointment.
She took a tentative sip, was surprised by the rich taste, and took another for fortification. “So, I wanted to talk to you about my camp.”
Stan lifted a hand. “Right, right. I seem to remember hearing something about that. The old Winnimocca place, is it?”
Kate smiled, but she was thinking, Why are you lying about knowing exactly who I am? Damn Mac for making her so paranoid. “Yes. That’s the place.”
“Did I hear right, that you’re trying to start up some center for, for crippled kids out at the old rich—” He broke off, and the slightest of flushes reached his cheeks as he quickly regrouped. “Your mother, I believe, once ran a summer program on the lake property, is that right?”
Kate nodded, allowing the faux pas to slide. Rich kids’ camp. She’d wondered what he might think of her, what judgments he might make, based on her family background. To that end, she purposely hadn’t dressed up for the occasion, wanting to present herself as she truly was, a hardworking woman trying to single-handedly resurrect a once thriving campground. “The program I am hoping—planning on—instituting is for children who face a number of different physical and mental challenges.”
“Commendable, Ms. Sutherland.”
“Kate,” she reminded him, then took another sip. “I’m not trying to be commendable, Mr. Harris—”
“Stan,” he offered perfunctorily.
“Stan,” she repeated. “I’ve been working in that field since graduating, and when my mother passed on and left the property to us, I thought it was the perfect use for it.”
Stan’s gaze dropped to her hand cradling the mug, then quickly back to her face. “Us?” he repeated. “So, you’re operating this place with your husband?”
Kate tried not to look insulted. So. Married made a difference. Married meant there was a man involved, which meant maybe this was actually a serious business proposition and not some silly dream operation run by a brainless, no-head-for-business woman. Somehow she managed to keep that opinion to herself. “No,” she answered directly. “Just as my mother did before me, I’ll be running the place myself.” She wasn’t sure the reminder would make so much as a dent in the thought process of someone who’d probably been narrow-minded since birth, but it couldn’t hurt to try. She didn’t linger on it, however, as he’d given her the perfect opening to probe a little, and she’d be damned if she’d pass it up. “By ‘us’ I meant my stepbrother, Shelby. Have you two met?”
She lifted her coffee mug, her eyes trained steadily on his face over the rim as she took a slow sip. She’d caught him off guard with that last part. His attention made a telling dip, just for a moment, but long enough to signal that he wasn’t being completely honest. “Can’t say as I recall. So is he a silent partner in your little endeavor, or…?”
“No. We’re just finishing up the details of the will, is all. And he had a hand in running it with my mother when he was younger, so his advice has been invaluable to me.” She kept her tone light, but never took her eyes off of him. Nope. Something definitely wasn’t right here. Stan wasn’t meeting her gaze as easily now. “You know how probates can go,” she said dismissively, as casually as possible. “Anyway, we’re close to breaking ground on some very extensive renovation work, and so I thought it was a good time to talk to you about getting the word out about my camp. I am definitely planning on involving as many of the local businesses as I can, both in skilled labor as well as printing shops, media outlets, the newspaper, that sort of thing.”
“Miss Sutherland—Kate—I’m afraid I’m not a placement office. You’re more than welcome to post whatever notices you’d like on our community service board. And I’m sure Jim at the Sentinel would be happy to talk to you about taking out a more detailed paid ad, which might reach those who don’t come into town as often. We might be a bit backwoods here, unlike the city life you’re more accustomed to, but I assure you word travels quite fast. I’m certain you won’t have any problem alerting the community to your needs.”
Kate noted a couple of things in his little speech that got her attention. One, for a man who purportedly didn’t know much about her, he knew she was from New York City. And she also noted he didn’t say she wouldn’t have a problem hiring people, just that they’d get the word about her intentions. Interesting.
She was sorely tempted to just come out and ask him what was going on, what he had against her and her camp. Or just straight out ask him what he might know about Timberline, for that matter, see what kind of reaction that got. But her mind was spinning a little too fast to sort everything out on the spur, and she didn’t want to make a wrong move and tip him off to what she was thinking. Not until she’d had a chance to think it through, anyway. She hated that her first thought had actually been not until she had a chance to talk it over with Donovan.
One day and she was already coming to depend on him. And at a time when she really couldn’t afford to depend on anyone but herself.
Apparently taking her silence to mean he’d regained the upper hand, Stan tried his used car salesman smile again. “As far as promoting the camp itself, don’t take offense, but I don’t know how much help Ralston can be for you. We don’t have too many crippled kids around that I know of.”
Kate ground her teeth to keep her smile even. “Challenged,” she mildly corrected. “And I know Ralston isn’t big in size, but I always thought small towns were big in heart.” He wasn’t the only one with a snakeoil pitch. “Ralston does serve the needs of a large county, many of whom do drive in a distance to do business here. I wasn’t thinking to have any big campaign or anything. I was merely hoping to maybe use your network of small businesses here to get the word out. Word of mouth is oftentimes the best method of promotion in a case like this. You never know who knows somebody with a child who might be in need of the kind of services I’ll be providing.”
Stan listened to her spiel with dwindling interest. “As I said, you can feel free to post anything you’d like on the community service board in the office. Anyone who has an interest will be sure to contact you.” He smiled and tried to look abashed. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, and probably not what you’re used to, given your background, Ms. Sutherland, but we are a small town, and it suits our needs.” He signaled for the check. “I wish I could do more to help.”
Kate barely kept her temper in check. Ignorant, smarmy ass. He not only knew exactly who she was and what she hoped to do, but he was going to do absolutely nothing to help her. She wouldn’t be half surprised if he actively planned to campaign against her. Not that she had a shred of proof, it was just instinct. Hers or Donovan’s at this point, she wasn’t sure and didn’t much care. She needed to get out of the diner before she said something she would regret later. She had to think of her camp first, last, and foremost.
She felt the beginnings of a tension headache spring to life. She slid out of the booth as Stan did the same. “Thank you for the coffee and your time.”
His unctuous smile reappeared as he held out his hand. “My pleasure, Ms.—Kate.” He gave her hand a quick shake, once again the friendly town councilman. “You stop by the office anytime and post whatever flyer or postcard you want to put up.”
“Appreciated,” she said, and somehow found a smile. She wondered if Stan thought she was some rich bitch socialite, dabbling in her little charitable endeavor. Her mother had not been the most compassionate person, and she’d probably made one or two enemies in the small town. Louisa Sutherland, to put it bluntly, was a snob. And so were her clients. Whenever possible, she’d avoided using the town’s admittedly limited resources. Only the best would do. And the best was certainly not going to be found in Ralston.
But something told her this had to do with more than the possibility of her mother’s lingering reputation. The camp had been closed down for almost a decade, and she’d abdicated a lion’s share of the day-to-day management long before that. And while the town might not have fully prospered from the camp, it hadn’t been hurt any by it either. And here she was, wanting to help their economy yet again, and it was all the chamber of commerce head could do to give her five seconds of his time. Business was business. Money talked louder than old reputations.
It just didn’t add up.
“What do you know of Timberline Industries?” she blurted out, immediately kicking herself for her momentary lapse. But, dammit, she wanted to shake him up a little, let him know he wasn’t dealing with some brainless twit.
His gaze narrowed for a fraction of a second, and Kate suddenly wondered if she’d just done something a bit more brainless than she’d intended. But it was too late now.
“Not sure I recognize the name,” he said, recovering so smoothly it was as if his momentary lapse in keeping his guard up hadn’t even happened. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, really. Shelby had made some comment about them—” She stopped, smiled apologetically, and waved off the rest of the sentence. “Never mind.”
“Fine, then. I must be getting back.” He paused beside the table as she slid out and stepped past him. “And, uh, my condolences on the passing of your mother.”
Stan couldn’t usher her out of Deenie’s fast enough. Kate wasn’t sure how awkward it was going to be when they reached the sidewalk and he realized they were headed in the same direction, as she had to pass back by the chamber office on her way back to her truck. “Thank you,” she told him as he opened the door for her. Mercifully, someone back in the diner called him over to their table.
“Sorry,” he said, his smile not remotely sincere at this point.
“Not a problem. Thank you for your time.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Sutherland.” Which it clearly hadn’t been. For either of them.
The door closed behind her, and Kate stepped onto the sidewalk and let out a long sigh. “Well, that went just peachy,” she muttered.
“Didn’t look like it.” Donovan pushed away from the bus stop sign he was leaning against and fell into step beside her.