California Girl (5 page)

Adjusting to the newly awakened hum of hormones, she backed
the car onto the quiet street. Driving off, she watched in the rearview mirror
as her home faded into the distance. Blinking back tears, she set her chin. The
time for looking back had ended.
Forward,
ho!

“Do I get a chance to express my opinion?” he finally asked.

“As long as it includes us finding Mame.” With the shattered
window open, the wind blowing through her hair, and the wheel beneath her
hands, Alys inhaled a deep breath of freedom. She had to believe that Mame was
blazing a trail to a new life, and both their futures shimmered with limitless
possibilities.

She refused to consider the alternative.

“I’d planned on setting out tonight . . . if you
would give me the itinerary,” he added politely as she steered the yacht-length
car through her shabby-genteel neighborhood, in the wrong direction for the
interstate.

“Mame won’t drive at night. My bet is that she’s looking for
a driver. We’re better off spending our time checking with some of the students
at the school. Maybe someone will call you and let you know they’ve seen her.
Besides, we both need some rest before we set out.”

“We?” Intense dark eyes studied her with an air of
skepticism.

“You’re the one she ran away from,” Alys pointed out. “I was
supposed to travel with her. She’s more likely to let me find her than you.”

He shot her an annoyed glance that probably meant she was
right but he wouldn’t admit it. Still, he didn’t question further, sensible man
that he was. He crossed his arms and his fingers beat a little tattoo on his
biceps.

She disregarded his irritation. She needed space, a time to
let go, and Mame had offered it. Alys didn’t know if traveling with Mame’s
nephew was the smart thing to do, but she was feeling more defiant than smart
right now.

Springfield wasn’t a major city, but a sensible town of
quiet residences. Since moving here to Fred’s childhood home, she’d developed a
liking for the slower pace and the small-town friendliness.

But she’d been trapped by circumstances for years and had no
desire to be trapped again. She didn’t have much money, but she wanted to
experience a little bit of the world before deciding her fate.

“How does one become a travel writer?” she wondered aloud,
trying on the first interesting occupation coming to mind as she turned Beulah
down Mame’s street lined with towering oaks and mansions.

“By being a journalist?” he guessed, apparently willing to
humor her.

“You’re a doctor, not a journalist, and you write books,”
she argued, not ready to give up on the first exciting idea she’d had in a long
time.

“I had a friend in college who told me I ought to write a
book about my nutrition research. He got a job in publishing after school. I
had a draft manuscript just as the diet craze started. Networking and timing.”

She remembered from her old career how networking and timing
worked. She couldn’t get excited about real estate, but writing sounded good.
“I could start by writing a column for the local paper, I suppose.”

“If you’re independently wealthy.” The chuckle in his voice
indicated his opinion of a columnist’s salary.

At least his sense of humor wasn’t scripted.

Seeing Mame’s old Victorian mansion, Alys steered the Caddy
into the shaded drive. As a former Realtor, she had a good eye for houses, and
she loved Mame’s gracious old Victorian. Mame had let the siding weather too
long without new paint, and the gingerbread trim on the wraparound porch needed
work, but the shaded front lawn with its jungle of azaleas and neat
wrought-iron fence spoke of generations of love and family that no modern
suburban residence could duplicate.

But it was entirely too large and impractical for Mame. An
albatross. Perhaps Mame was finally ready to relinquish all the old memories it
held and start on a new path. Maybe that’s what this was all about.

Swinging her legs out of the car, Alys took the familiar
gravel path to the kitchen without waiting for Elliot to open the car door.

* * *

Watching the poetry in motion of Alys’s hips beneath her
flirty skirt as she strode down the walk almost knocked Elliot’s concern for
Mame out of his head.

He tried to ignore his companion’s nearness while he
unlocked the back door, but she stood a step higher, and a flyaway lock of her
hair brushed his nose. A light, summery fragrance wafted around her, and Elliot
gritted his molars at the familiar tightening in his groin. Traveling with Alys
Seagraves would be a trial unless he got a grip.

He couldn’t remember agreeing to travel with her. She’d just
sauntered into his life and made hash of his mind. It had been a long time
since a woman had done that—if ever.

He concentrated on locking up behind them while Alys swept
into Mame’s kitchen as if it were her own. Her blithe forwardness fascinated
him. She opened the refrigerator and helped herself to the few eggs Mame had
left behind. He’d grown up in this house, still had a room here, and he wasn’t
as familiar with the kitchen as she was.

“Come here often?” he asked when she located a skillet and a
spatula.

“Mame likes company. She’s had half the students at the
school here at one time or another.” She cracked the eggs into the pan and
glanced at him through a shiny lock of hair falling across her high-boned
cheek. “Want some?”

She probably had no idea how his testosterone-drenched brain
translated that suggestion.

He didn’t know how to act with this fey female who had
walked in and taken over Mame’s kitchen. Elliot had a suspicion that if he
wasn’t careful, she might usurp his life in the same way. “No, thanks.
Cholesterol can kill you.”

“So can trucks, kids, and cell phones.”

Ignoring the quip, he hit Mame’s ancient answering machine
to pick up messages from people he’d missed in his earlier search. Not one of
them had seen Mame today.

“She spent the morning at the hairdresser’s.” Alys flipped
her eggs. “She probably had lunch at the cafeteria. Mame took a leave of
absence from her classes at the school for this trip, so she may not have seen
anyone else unless she asked them to drive. If she stopped for her suitcase,
maybe one of the neighbors saw her.”

She knew his aunt’s activities better than he did. Elliot
started calling the neighbors, just in case they’d noticed a car parked in the
drive.

The eggs smelled mouthwateringly delicious, but he’d never
be able to eat them. Worrying about Mame had twisted his intestines into knots.

She fixed toast and slathered it with butter and jam,
obviously not suffering from the same anxiety as he. Or any sense of
health-consciousness. Elliot ground his teeth and listened to one neighbor
after another deny they’d seen his aunt.

“She never missed a day of classes. I had no idea she was
ill. I thought only fat people had heart attacks. Or stressed-out people,” his
uninvited guest added in a voice laden with meaning.

He took a deep breath and tried to accept that his aunt
could take care of herself. He’d been relying on her strength for years. There
was no reason for going off the deep end just because he was no longer in
command of the situation.

He wandered around the kitchen, opening cabinets, looking
for something healthy to munch on. “We have a family predisposition for heart
failure,” he said, trying not to lecture. “It’s not the kind of thing doctors
can test for until it happens. Obesity, poor diet, smoking, or lack of exercise
would aggravate or hasten the condition, but not cause it.”

Innocently licking the jam off her lip, Alys followed him
around the room with clear gray eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Crystal-ball eyes, he decided. She ought to be a gypsy.

“As would stress,” she added. “Do you know yoga?”

“I run every morning, work out at the gym when I have time.”
He thought yoga and meditation a New Age waste of time for bored housewives,
but he politely refrained from offering his opinion.

“And I suppose you compete with yourself in those workouts?”
Cleaning up her plate, she carried it and her utensils to the sink to wash.
“Run an extra quarter mile, beat your time by a few seconds?”

“Keeps it interesting.” Unable to tolerate further exposure
to her long, tanned legs beneath that short skirt, Elliot headed for the door.
“I need to finish some work. Do you know which room is yours? I’ll carry your
bags up.”

He could swear something otherworldly watched him through
her dark-fringed eyes, eyes that contained wells of wisdom far older than her
years. How old was she? Nineteen?

“The pink room. Are you an early riser?”

“I can finish my run by five-thirty, if you’ll be ready
then.”

She nodded, and her hair bounced. “The first hotel on the
itinerary is only about six hours away.”

“She could be halfway there by now.” He hesitated in the
doorway. He was dead on his feet, but if they left tonight—

She shook her head as if she heard his thoughts. “Mame hates
driving. She’ll either take it very easy and stop early, or she’s out hunting a
new driver.”

“Or she could be flying to Alaska.” Not wanting to think of
Mame picking up hitchhikers or believe that he was heading out on a wild-goose
chase, Elliot walked away. Maybe the police would find her first.

* * *

“Mame, what is this?” Dulce asked in incredulity at the
sight of the Range Rover.

Turning off the ignition on Elliot’s great throbbing beast
of a vehicle as Dulce opened the passenger door, Mame clung to the steering
wheel a while longer, letting her heart slow down. Thank heaven it wasn’t dark
yet. She could have backed over a regiment of Cub Scouts and never known it in
this monster.

On the sidewalk, Dulce guarded all her worldly possessions:
two cardboard boxes tied with string, a battered brown valise, and a kitten in
a basket. The girl looked more frail than Mame felt, and she suffered a pang of
guilt at dumping the burden of her ill health on her.

But then Dulce lifted age-old black eyes, and Mame breathed
easier. Like Alys’s, Dulce’s few years had packed a lifetime of experience.
Unlike Alys, Dulce had struggled most of her life. She was stronger than she
looked.

“My nephew didn’t think Beulah was safe, so I borrowed his
car.”
Not one word of untruth
, Mame
thought righteously. If Elliot hadn’t been so pigheaded, she wouldn’t have to
litter her stairway to heaven with evasions.

“And where is Mrs. Seagraves?” Dulce asked, not immediately
heaving her belongings into the Rover. “You should not be driving alone.”

Although she gave lip service to the school’s beliefs about
spiritual connections, in emergencies Mame preferred the old-fashioned direct
route of speaking to the Head Honcho. She offered up a silent prayer asking for
forgiveness for what she was about to do.

If she missed her guess and Elliot didn’t seek out Alys,
prayers wouldn’t help because she’d never forgive herself. She’d promised Alys
this trip.

But even if her independent nephew didn’t find Alys, Mame
had every confidence that Alys would hunt down Elliot the second she heard Mame
had escaped the hospital. Mame was counting on them far more than she wished to
reveal, even to herself. She had a feeling she and Dulce might need backup for
what they intended.

“I’m doing a little matchmaking,” Mame replied with a
confidence she was too tired to feel. “We’ve had a change of plans. Can you
drive this thing?”

Dulce leaned inside to check out the Range Rover’s huge
seats, leather interior, and array of blinking dials. “I have never even seen
the inside of something like this, Mrs. Emerson.”

Opening the driver’s door, Mame gingerly climbed down. She’d
taken the car out on a dirt road and driven it back and forth through the
biggest mud puddles she could find. Elliot’s shiny new car now possessed a
thick coat of dust and mud that made it look as if it had been driven up
mountains and through rivers. She’d covered the license plate in the same way.
She had no illusions about her nephew’s caretaking tendencies. He would call
the police to find her, and she didn’t want to be found. Not yet.

She felt every bit her age right now, but with a little
sleep, she’d be fine. The thrill of being on the road again would rejuvenate
her.

The seriousness of her purpose would revitalize her energy. Sitting
in the passenger seat was restful, wasn’t it? She’d be fine.

“You can practice driving a little this evening,” she told
Dulce, “and we’ll set out first thing in the morning. I need to rearrange a few
things, so we’re staying at a friend’s house tonight. She’s not home, but she
left me the keys.” And she could hide the car in the garage. “And I’ve told
you, you must call me Mame.”

Ignoring her student’s expression of concern, Mame climbed
into the passenger seat while the girl loaded her belongings into the back.

“Mame, we do not have to do this,” Dulce said in a low
voice. “I can take the bus to Amarillo.”

“You cannot kidnap your niece and expect to escape on a bus.
You will need help. Alys and Elliot will be right behind us, and my friend Jock
is waiting in Albuquerque. It’s safer this way.”

Dulce brightened. “You have explained to Mrs. Seagraves,
then? And she approves?”

Mame had no idea how Alys would react to kidnapping, even a
legal and justified kidnapping. She was fairly certain Alys would object to
Mame’s involvement, though. Whether or not she realized it, Alys had the same
caretaking instincts as Elliot.

But there wasn’t any way Mame was leaving a child in hell
when she could do something about it. Men with more power than sense didn’t
frighten her. Dulce’s niece belonged with Dulce’s family. If Alys and Elliot
didn’t fall in with her plans, then Jock would just have to leave his damned
hot air balloon and come help. He was the one who had invited her on this
trip—for old times’ sake.