The Black Sheep and the Princess (11 page)

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.”