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The next morning Brad went down to the hotel restaurant and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and the morning paper. After a few days in Lancaster County, getting up after sunrise felt positively decadent.
He purused the front page of the Lancaster Farmer’s Friend. It was a tiny local paper that had fallen into a big story by accident, but seemed to be playing it for all it was worth. The Duchess’ upcoming court case was headline news, and the local slant was heavily in her favor. Brad noticed, with some satisfaction, that no one, even locally, had snagged a recent photo relevant to the story, except an extremely long-range shot of the King farmhouse.
Brad put down the paper and pulled out his smart phone. A quick scan online verified his hunch that it was the general trend. No one, not even Channel 1, had a picture of the Duchess, unless they had paid to display the one the Ledger had taken.
Brad took a sip of coffee and smiled to himself. He was on the brink of scooping even the networks because no one had the access to the Duchess that he enjoyed.
He sputtered suddenly and had to put the coffee cup down because a deep pain in his chest gave him an unholy jolt. It was that same pain he’d suffered before – the one deep down. It coincided with an intense feeling of guilt, but he pushed it away. Guilt was a luxury he couldn’t afford, not if he wanted to keep his job.
He brushed coffee off of his shirt. But he had to admit that he did feel bad about – about what had happened earlier. If he’d had any sense, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss the Duchess, or make her promises, but it was what always happened. He was an idiot.
Anyway, surely even an Amish girl had to understand that it was impossible for them to have anything more than a brief dalliance. She had to know that he was in this for the story. He’d told her often enough.
But he was looking forward to seeing her again. Or, to be honest, to seeing her for one last time. True, he’d screwed up, he shouldn’t have made things personal between them, but maybe he could fix it. Maybe he could tell her that he’d been joking, or something, and encourage her to go back to her farm boys, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
But on the other hand, maybe she wouldn‘t care if he left. She’d told him that three other guys had proposed to her, so he probably wasn’t even on her radar, at least not seriously.
He rubbed his jaw gingerly. Though, to be honest, he didn’t like the idea of the Duchess ending up with that dark-haired guy. In fact, the mental image of the Duchess with anybody else was No, although he had the clarity to admit to himself that jealousy was insane. They hardly knew one another, and they weren’t going to see each other at all after the court case.
In fact, Delores had been right – the sooner he got this interview over with, and himself out of Lancaster County, the better for everyone.
He paid his tab and returned to his room. He had just freshened up and was preparing to go out again when there was a soft knock on the hotel room door.
He frowned. He couldn’t think of anyone who should be knocking.
He went to the door and opened it. To his amazement—Sheila was standing there, in all her blonde glory.
“Surprise, Brad!” she purred, smiling from ear to ear. “Guess who just got assigned to help you on this story?”
Brad gaped at her. When his brain began to work again, it ran a frantic inventory of all the ways that having Sheila in his hair would destroy his chances of seeing the Duchess again. And one look at her face told him that Sheila knew it.
Brad pulled his mouth into a smile. “Sheila! What are you doing here? And what do you mean, help me with this story? You’re Delores’ assistant – aren’t you?”
Sheila breezed past him and perched on the edge of a chair inside his room. “I’m your assistant now, Brad! Delores was so sweet, Brad, you wouldn’t believe it. She said that she could see that I was pining for you, so she gave me permission to come here and help you with the story. She said that you need me more than she does – Wasn’t that thoughtful of her?”
Brad laughed and nodded. “That Delores! Yeah, that – that Delores!” he agreed, looking up at the ceiling.
“And you know what’s even better, Brad? The boy at the front desk was able to get me just a few doors down from you. So we can see each other all the time, for as long as we’re here!”
He stared at her, and shook his head, and put his hands on his hips, and looked down at the carpet.
“That’s – that’s really great, Sheila!” he stammered.
She lifted her big blue eyes to his face. “So, Brad. How can I help you? I can see you’ve gotten into trouble already.” She lifted her hand to his chin and turned it carefully. “Poor thing! How did you get this shiner? Did one of the Amish people hit you?”
“Actually, yes, that happened. It’s a long, strange story, Sheila, and I’d love to tell you all about it, but –”
Sheila nodded shrewdly. “But you have an urgent meeting and have to go, and why don’t I just relax and wait for you back in my room?”
Brad mustered a sickly smile. “I knew you’d understand, Sheils,” he told her warmly, “you’re such a sport!” He made for the door, but she grabbed his tie as he passed.
“Nah, I want to come with you,” she told him pleasantly. “So much more fun, don’t you think? You can show me the back 40. Isn’t that what they call it out here?” she giggled, and nibbled his ear.
He switched to another tack, “Ah – you know, this was a bit of a surprise, Sheils, but it works out perfectly! Because I was going to spend the morning at the library, doing research, but it would be time better spent getting interviews. Could you maybe spend the morning at the library? I’d want articles about former lawsuits in Lancaster County. I would really save me time.”
She ran her hands through his hair.
“Not so fast, handsome. Because the last thing that Delores told me – bless her! – was that I’m supposed to stick to you just like glue until you get the Amish Dolly interview and write your story.” She tapped his nose with a manicured finger. “And that’s just what I intend to do.”
Then she put her arms around him and kissed him with lips tasting of spearmint and strawberry gloss. Brad allowed himself to experience Sheila’s kiss. He told himself that he and Sheila had a lot in common, that he was fond of her, they got along, he found her attractive.
And—he still wished she was a thousand miles away.
And as for Delores—Brad lifted his eyes to the ceiling. He had to give it to Delores, she was scary smart. She was crafty.
And he was going to get even with her for this, if it was his dying act.
