About That Man (14 page)

He was still a little flustered by those unexpectedly wayward thoughts when she finally hung up the phone and asked what she could do for him. If he'd answered with the first thing that popped into his head, she'd probably call Tucker and insist he be locked away for psychiatric evaluation. She'd be right to do it, too.

“We have to talk about Daisy,” he said, when he could finally clamp down on his wild ideas. There were years of bad blood between the Rileys and the Spencers over which family had gotten to Trinity Harbor first. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to try to bridge that gap.

“Why?” Frances asked, being deliberately obtuse.

“That boy doesn't belong with her.”

Frances regarded him with mild interest. “Is that so?”

“Don't patronize me. You know it and I know it.”

“I don't know any such thing. Daisy is a perfectly fit foster parent. And she wants him there.”

“Do you know what people are saying about her?”

“No, but I imagine you're going to tell me,” she said with a resigned expression. “Though I never thought I'd live to see the day when King Spencer went around spreading idle gossip about a member of his own family.”

“I'm not spreading it,” he retorted. “I'm telling you so you'll do something to stop it.”

“You, of all people, ought to know you can't stop people from talking.”

“You can if you don't give them anything to talk about.”

“What exactly has Daisy done that's so wrong?”

He scowled at her. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Since I don't get it, then, yes, you do.”

He frowned at that. “You don't think she's doing anything wrong?”

“Frankly, no.”

“That man is living with her,” he said. “She's a single woman, and that man, that
stranger,
has moved in with her.”

Frances chuckled. “So, that's what's really got your goat. You don't like Walker Ames. Why? Is it something personal or is it just because he's from Washington?”

King shuddered at the reminder. “Isn't that reason enough?”

“From all I hear, he's an outstanding policeman. It's an honorable profession. Your own son is a sheriff. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Could it be the fact that Walker is a very desirable, very sexy, very available man?”

“Frances!” King couldn't have been more shocked if she'd uttered a profanity.

“Well, he is. I'm fifty-nine. I'm not blind or dead.”

“Ladies don't discuss such things.”

Her burst of laughter mocked him.

“Well, they don't,” he blustered.

“And I suppose fine gentlemen such as yourself don't sit down at Earlene's and ogle the summer tourists in their shorts and tight T-shirts, commenting on the likelihood of silicone implants.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, wondering if God would strike him dead on the spot for the blatant lie.

“King Spencer, you are such a liar,” Frances scolded. “Shame on you. That's the only reason you men go in there. It's certainly not for Earlene's coffee. She hasn't brewed a decent pot in twenty years.”

Unfortunately, she was right about that, King conceded. Not that he intended to admit it aloud.

“We're getting off the subject here,” he said instead. “What are you going to do about saving my daughter's reputation?”

“Nothing,” she said mildly.

“Nothing?”

“That's what I said. Maybe if you defended Daisy, instead of running around behind her back acting as if she's doing something wrong, her reputation wouldn't be in danger in the first place. People around here take their cues from you, though I can't imagine why.”

“Spencers have always set a good example,” he said proudly.

“Which is exactly what Daisy's doing. She's doing a good deed, King. She took in a little boy who had no one. She's giving him the love he needs so desperately after losing his mama. And she's providing a home for him until things can be worked out between him and an uncle he didn't even know he had. You tell me where the shame is in that.”

Put that way, King didn't have a response. He still didn't like it, but it didn't sound so bad when Frances described what Daisy was doing.

“If she gets hurt, I'm holding you responsible,” he said as he rose to his feet.

“I'll keep that in mind,” she said, clearly unintimidated.

He made his way to the door of her office, then turned back. “You busy tomorrow night?”

Her gaze shot up. “What?”

“Are you deaf, woman?” he snapped, already regretting his impulse. “I asked if you were busy tomorrow.”

“No. Why?”

“I've heard you like to play bingo. Never understood it myself, but I'd be willing to take you.”

He saw her lips twitch, but she managed to keep a straight face, which kept him from bolting out of there without waiting to see if she said yes or no.

“How could I possibly refuse such a gracious invitation?” she said. “The game's in Colonial Beach at the Rescue Squad.”

“Long way to go for a game,” he grumbled.

She did laugh then. “King, it's little wonder you never married again after Mary Margaret died. No other woman would put up with you.”

“Don't go getting any ideas about changing me,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said at once. “Only a fool would try to mess with a cantankerous personality that it's taken fifty-nine years to shape.”

“You got that right,” King said. He was outside in his truck by the time he realized the woman had insulted him. Worse, he had left without accomplishing a blessed thing to get Daisy's life straightened out.

 

“Daddy's doing what?” Daisy asked, staring at Anna-Louise in shock when they met for pizza on Monday night.

“You heard me,” the pastor said. “He's taking Frances to play bingo in Colonial Beach tomorrow night.”

Since Anna-Louise was hardly likely to lie about something as mind-boggling as that—or about anything else,
for that matter—Daisy supposed she had no choice but to believe her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“From Frances herself. I think she's in shock.”

“She must be, if she said yes. I thought those two hated each other.”

Anna-Louise grinned. “Hate is often just the flip side of love. All that passion roiling around inside.”

Daisy frowned at her. “Should you be talking about passion?”

“Absolutely,” Richard said, slipping into the booth beside his wife and giving her a very thorough kiss. “She's a minister, not a saint. More importantly, she is my incredibly sexy wife.”

“I don't want to know this,” Daisy said. “I never once even thought about what sort of love life Pastor Duncan had.”

“He was seventy-five when he retired and looked like a cherub,” Richard pointed out.

Daisy nodded. “Exactly. Can we please change the subject? Maybe talk about walking the straight and narrow?”

Richard regarded her with evident fascination. “Why? Are you thinking of venturing off that path? With Walker, perhaps?”

Anna-Louise poked her elbow sharply into his ribs.

“Hey,” he protested. “I like the guy, even if he did run off with my wife the first time we met.”

“Did we come here for pizza or did we come here to gossip?” Anna-Louise asked, frowning at her husband.

“I don't gossip,” Richard said, clearly offended. “I report facts.”

“Well, none of this is suitable for next week's edition,” Daisy said, looking across the Italian restaurant to see what Tommy was up to. He'd joined friends at the video machines the minute they'd arrived. As near as she could tell, they were all around his age, so there was little likelihood that these were the culprits involved in the discussion of drugs.

“How are things going with Tommy?” Anna-Louise asked, her gaze following Daisy's.

“Well enough. He's got a real case of hero worship on Walker.”

“And how is his uncle taking that?” Anna-Louise asked.

“I'm not sure he's even aware of it. Sometimes I catch him looking at Tommy as if he can't quite believe that he's his nephew. They'll be doing really well together, and then it's like this wall goes up between them.”

“Walker's doing?” Anna-Louise guessed.

Daisy nodded. “I think he's afraid to get close. I get the feeling he was never all that close to his parents. He cared about Beth, but he couldn't stop her from running off with Tommy's father. His wife left him and took his kids. I think he feels himself starting to care about Tommy, and then he shuts down because nobody in his life's had much staying power. Of course, he blames himself for that.”

“Typical,” Anna-Louise said. “If he's lost a lot of people he cared about, he's not going to risk himself by getting close to Tommy.” She looked pointedly at Daisy. “Or anyone else.”

“What are you implying?” Daisy asked, wondering how Anna-Louise could possibly have picked up on any vibes between her and Walker.

“Nothing. It's just that I've met the man. He's very
attractive. Since you're my friend, I thought it appropriate to issue a fair warning.”

“Okay, then. Message received,” Daisy said. “I don't have any illusions about Walker.”

“I hope not,” Anna-Louise said, regarding her worriedly. “This situation is volatile enough as it is.”

Daisy frowned at her. “Why? Because for once in my life I might take a chance and put my heart on the line?”

“With Tommy or Walker?” Anna-Louise asked.

Daisy avoided a direct answer. “Look, just because I've tried to help a little boy who needs someone in his life doesn't mean I'm going to throw caution to the wind in general. Besides, aren't you the one who's always preaching that anything worthwhile in life is worth risking a little pain?”

“I've heard you say that,” Richard agreed.

“Throwing my own words back in my face, how rotten is that?” Anna-Louise protested. “Okay, I won't say another word. You do whatever you need to do, whatever you think is right, whatever you think will make you happy.”

“And you won't say ‘I told you so' when it all falls apart, right?” Daisy said, grinning.

“I never agreed to that,” Anna-Louise said. “To quote my handsome husband, I'm a minister, not a saint.”

But despite the teasing, Daisy knew perfectly well that Anna-Louise would be the first one there to support her if her life ended up spinning wildly out of control, even if it was her own doing.

S
aturday morning, with Walker's likely arrival still hours away, Daisy sat on the back deck with a cup of tea and studied her yard. She'd been so busy the last couple of weeks that she hadn't had time to plan her garden, and it was past time to get started. Her rose bushes needed pruning and fertilizing, and the beds that usually held neat rows of pale pink and white impatiens should be mulched. The warm weather was holding well enough now for the flowers to be set out. And the honeysuckle was twining around places it had no business going, which meant she needed to start her annual war against that before it took over everything.

Normally she loved this time of year. She liked digging in the warm, dark, rich soil, feeling the sun on her shoulders. She even liked the way her muscles ached after working outdoors all day with pruning shears, a hoe and a trowel. And that battle with the honeysuckle was a test of wills she enjoyed winning.

Today, though, as she considered doing the same old predictable thing, it didn't hold the usual appeal. Why shouldn't she scatter wildflower seeds instead? Or maybe mix bright red and orange zinnias with purple cosmos? Let
the honeysuckle run amok? Why shouldn't she shock everyone with a garden that was as wild and untamed as her emotions?

“Why not?” she asked aloud.

Filled with determination, she marched into the house, shouting for Tommy as she rinsed her cup and left it on the counter to dry. Even that was a tiny act of rebellion. Usually she insisted dishes be dried and put away after every use. A tidy kitchen was a symbol of respectability. Housekeeper after housekeeper at Cedar Hill had drilled that into her.

Of course, given the way Walker was dominating her thoughts these days, she concluded that her days of respectability were numbered. Hopefully, anyway.

“What's up?” Tommy asked, regarding her with a puzzled expression as he wandered into the kitchen.

“We're going shopping.”

Alarm flared in his eyes, and his expression turned stormy. “But Uncle Walker will be here soon.”

“He has a key, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind having a little time to himself to unwind.”

“But he's coming to see me,” Tommy protested.

“And he
will
see you,” she said. “When we get back.” She shooed him toward the door. “Let's go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be home.”

Dragging his feet, his expression sullen, Tommy followed her to the car. “I don't see why we have to go somewhere now,” he grumbled as she backed out of the driveway. “Why can't I stay here and wait?”

“Because I can use your help,” she said flatly.

Tommy studied her intently, then asked, “Are you mad about something?”

“No,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I intend to have a very good day. I can't wait to get to the nursery.”

“Nursery? We're going to see a bunch of babies?” he asked, clearly shocked.

“Not babies,” Daisy corrected. “Flowers.”

He stared at her with predictable male horror. “That's even worse. Why would you want to go look at a bunch of dumb old flowers?”

“Because I'm going to plant them and you're going to help.”

“No way,” he said, retreating to the far side of the car as if he feared contamination by the very idea.

“You'll like it.”

“No, I won't,” he said. “That's sissy stuff.”

“Don't be ridiculous. My father has a garden. Do you think he's a sissy?”

“I'll bet his garden has tomatoes and corn and stuff, not flowers.”

“Okay, you've got a point, but growing things teaches us important lessons about life.”

“What kind of lessons?” Tommy asked doubtfully.

“About responsibility and nurturing, for starters.”

“Why do I need to know about that?”

“Because you do. Everyone does.”

“I'll bet Uncle Walker never planted flowers, and he's responsible.”

Daisy wasn't about to explain that his uncle's nurturing skills could probably use a little work, though they weren't in as bad a shape as he liked to pretend.

“You'll have to ask him about that,” she said finally, as she pulled into the driveway of a well-stocked nursery where she'd been buying her plants for years. The owner,
Marcy Mann, spotted her and headed her way, a grin on her already tanned and well-lined face. Whatever the world's concerns about the damaging effects of the sun on the skin, Marcy had dismissed them years ago.

“I was wondering when you were going to get in here,” she said. “You're late this year.” She smiled at Tommy. “And this must be the young man I've been hearing so much about. Are you going to help Daisy with her garden this year?”

“Not if I can help it,” Tommy muttered.

“As you can see, he's not overwhelmed by the prospect,” Daisy told her friend.

“Let's go in the hothouse. I have some beautiful impatiens plants set aside for you.”

“No,” Daisy said. “I think I'm going for something different this year.”

The older woman regarded her with amazement. “Such as?”

“I want wild. I want colorful. I want splashy.”

Marcy's laughter rang out. “About time,” she concurred eagerly. “Let's see what I can come up with. You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you do something new with your garden. You have all that room and that spectacular view. It needed some color to shake things up.”

With Tommy reluctantly trailing along behind, she led Daisy up and down rows and rows of seedlings, picking out the most vibrant colors and the most unusual specimens.

“Tommy, you load those into the back of Daisy's car,” Marcy said when they had a cart completely filled. Then she led Daisy into the small shed that served as her office.

“Here's what you're going to want to do with those,”
she said, taking out a sheet of paper and starting to sketch. She drew in every type of flower they'd chosen and neatly labeled it. “You can't go wrong if you follow this. Just promise to invite me over to see the results. I'd say by mid-June, it's going to look spectacular.”

“I can't wait,” Daisy told her.

“So, what brought this on?” Marcy asked as she rang up the sale.

“Boredom,” Daisy admitted. “I've been in a rut.”

“So you're breaking out in a big way,” Marcy concluded. “Taking in Tommy, a new man and a new garden.”

Daisy wasn't surprised that Marcy had heard all the rumors. Even though she lived on a farm miles from town, everyone in Trinity Harbor showed up here sooner or later to get plants or supplies for their flower and vegetable gardens. And Marcy had the questioning skills of a sly, well-seasoned prosecutor. People told her things before they even realized she'd been digging for revealing information.

“Nice try,” Daisy said with admiration for the sneaky skill with which she'd tried to ferret out information about Walker. “No comment.”

Marcy regarded her with an innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean. I was just making a simple observation.”

“Were you really?”

“Of course. You know I would never pry into your personal life, even if not knowing is killing me,” she said pointedly.

Daisy hugged her. “Thanks.”

Marcy looked disappointed. “That's it?”

“That's it.”

“Well, damn. How am I going to explain that I had the source right here and she slipped out of my hands?”

“Who would you need to explain anything to?” Daisy asked.

“My customers, naturally. There are people who count on me to know the latest. And once they catch a glimpse of your new garden, they're going to know you've been here. I'll probably be overrun with the curious before the end of the weekend.”

“Send them to me,” Daisy advised. “I'll tell them the same thing I told you.”

“Which is precisely nothing.”

“Exactly. Now let me get out of here, before Tommy decides he's going to walk back to town or, worse, drive himself.”

“At ten?”

“What can I say? He's unpredictable. I don't like to take chances.”

In the car, she glanced over at Tommy, who was studiously ignoring her. “Okay, what's wrong?”

“Uncle Walker only comes for a little while, and we're missing it. It's not fair.”

“We'll be home in twenty minutes. He probably won't even be there yet.”

But, of course, he was, probably just to make her look like the bad guy because she'd stolen a few minutes of their time together.

She didn't like the way the sight of him stretched out on a chaise longue on her deck made her heart race. Nor did she like the way heat rose to her cheeks when his gaze met hers. He stood slowly and ambled toward them.

“Where have you guys been?”

“Daisy made us go to the dumb old nursery and buy a bunch of flowers,” Tommy said, practically quivering with disgusted outrage.

“Where are they?” Walker asked.

“Still in the car,” she said.

“Then let's get 'em,” he said to Tommy, then looked at her. “Where do you want them?”

“I put 'em all in the car,” Tommy said. “I don't see why I should have to take 'em out.”

“Because it's the gentlemanly thing to do,” Walker told him. “Now let's get a move on.”

“I want to work on the boat,” Tommy said, his expression mulish.

“Not until these flowers are wherever Daisy wants them,” Walker replied evenly.

Tommy flopped down in a chair. “I'm not doing it,” he said defiantly.

Daisy saw the day disintegrating into a contest of wills that no one would win. That wasn't what she wanted for Tommy. But before she could step in, Walker scowled at his nephew.

“Then you can go to your room,” he said firmly.

Tommy stared at him, tears of betrayal shining in his eyes. “That's not fair.”

“Neither is refusing to help someone who's been very kind to you. Think about that while you're up there. Now
go.
”

Tommy cast a desperate look toward Daisy, clearly hoping for a reprieve, but she didn't dare contradict Walker's order. When she said nothing, Tommy stomped off, slamming the door to the house behind him.

“I'm sorry about that,” Walker said. “He has no right to treat you that way.”

“He was just upset because he thought I was ruining the little bit of time he has with you,” Daisy said.

“That's no excuse.”

“You know something? You sound suspiciously like a parent.”

Walker looked taken aback. Then, slowly, a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “How about that? Will wonders never cease?”

“The instincts have been there all along,” Daisy told him.

“If you say so,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with prolonging the topic of his parenting skills. “Let's get those flowers. Do you want them back here?”

“That'll be perfect.”

With Tommy banished to his room, Walker pitched in to help Daisy with her garden. She had to admit it went much faster with him preparing the soil and raking the mulch over it, while she set out the new plants based on the rough design Marcy had created for her.

By lunchtime, the sun was bright and hot. She was filthy and thirsty. But her garden was taking shape in the most amazing way. She loved the change already, with its wild mix of varieties and clashing colors.

“I recommend a hot shower and lunch at the marina,” she said as they stood side by side surveying their work. “I'm sure Tommy has gotten the message by now.”

She glanced up and realized Walker's gaze was locked on her. “What? Do I have a smudge on my nose or something?”

“No, you just never cease to amaze me. If anyone had asked, I would have sworn there was no way in hell you would ever look like this.”

“Like what?”

“A dirty little street urchin.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, his gaze intent as if he found whatever streak of dirt was there to be fascinating.

Daisy's heart leapt into her throat. “Is that a good thing?” she asked, her voice choked.

“Umm-hmm,” he murmured distractedly, then met her gaze. “Makes me wonder what other surprises I should expect.”

“Nothing very exciting, I'm sad to say.”

“I don't believe that. Something tells me you are a very unpredictable woman.”

“Me? Hardly.”

But even as she spoke, she realized that the denial was more halfhearted than it might have been a few weeks ago. Daisy had a hunch if Walker—and Tommy, of course—hung around, the predictability of her life could change dramatically. She had never been a big proponent of change. Like her father, she had always thought things were just fine when they were steady and reliable. Now, suddenly, she wanted to seize every chance she got to break out of old patterns. She craved excitement.

And the most exciting thing to come along in years and years was standing right in front of her…six-feet-one-inch of pure testosterone. Unfortunately, with the strides he was making in parenting, he also seemed more and more likely to be the person who was going to take Tommy away from her.

 

Walker gazed at Daisy over the top of his menu. Her hair curled damply around her face, and he had the oddest desire to brush the errant tendrils away, to maybe let his
fingers linger against the soft, flushed skin of her cheek. Only Tommy's still-sullen presence kept him from doing it.

The kid continued to pout over being banished to his room. Nor was he especially happy that they were wasting time over lunch at the marina.

“Go and look for Bobby,” Daisy finally said with a touch of exasperation. “Ask him if he'll take you to see some of the yachts. A few of the owners might be around, and they could let you come on board.”

Finally, a flicker of excitement rose in the boy's eyes. “Would he do that?”