encouraged her to reach for them. It was just one more reason why she'd fallen in love with him.
And why she could again if she wasn't careful.
She walked away from the Suburban while he changed. He needed privacy, and she needed distance. She jabbed her fingers through her hair.
The guy takes her seriously and she goes all weak in the knees. She reminded herself that other men who'd known her professionally had also taken her seriously—
because
she was smart and only spoke when she had something to say.
She glanced over at Mitch as he toweled off his face.
Love.
This could not be happening again.
It would not happen.
Kelsey didn't see or hear from Mitch over the next three days. She was glad for the break. The distance gave her a chance to steady her shaky emotions and to get her balance back.
Donna's body had still not been released for burial, so she spent the time cleaning Ruth's house. She spoke to her magazine editor once and, against her better judgment, turned down an assignment in Bali.
Each day, the boys showed up after school, cleaned with her for a few hours and then hauled away the mountains of paper Ruth had collected over the years. Kelsey had worked hard on the house and by week's end, the downstairs had been stripped of the clutter.
So far, she'd found nothing to tell her anything about Donna. She tossed stacks of newspapers, the box of utility bills that dated back to the 1950s, and more phone books than she'd ever seen, even in the New York Public Library.
The work was good for her. She felt a sense of accomplishment and triumph with each garbage bag she dragged out of the house.
On the fourth day, she was even feeling like she'd kicked this miniobsession she had for Mitch Garrett. She only thought about him two or three times a day, instead of six or seven as she had on the first day. And she was only a little put out by the fact that he hadn't called.
When her cell phone rang unexpectedly, she was in the den. The cell was in the kitchen. She vaulted over two boxes, sprinted down the hallway and banged her knee on the kitchen table as she answered the phone on the fifth ring.
"Hello," she said breathless.
"Kelsey," Stu said.
She allowed a tiny bit of disappointment before she shrugged it off. Okay, no Mitch. What did she care? "Stu, how are you?"
"Chris still hasn't turned up." Worry coated each word.
"What's it been, five days?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"No word from the police?"
"They haven't found a trace of him. I've checked all the hospitals in the state and no one has seen him."
"That's a good sign, right?"
"I suppose."
She reached for a cup of coffee left over from breakfast. "Chris is known to take off, Stu."
"Not like this."
She took a sip. The coffee was cold. "Hey, why don't we meet for dinner? We could go into town and I'll treat you to dinner at that Italian place you used to like. It's still there, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's still there, but we'll never get close to town tonight."
She set the coffee down. "Why?"
"It's Memorial Weekend, Kelsey." He sounded as if he was talking to a small child.
"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that."
"They block the streets off. Bands play and the police department sets off fireworks."
"The police department" was code for Mitch Garrett, no doubt. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Stu if Mitch was going to be there, but she held off. What did it matter who set off the fireworks?
"Yeah, I went to one of those parties years ago." Ruth had known everyone in town and had always had a blast, but Kelsey had never felt right there. She didn't belong around real families. "Well, maybe you could come by here and I could cook you supper. I make a mean Thai dish."
He hesitated. "We should go to the festival."
She stepped out the back door, needing fresh air. She leaned against the round wood column and stared up at the brilliantly blue sky. "I don't know, Stu. I'm not one for crowds."
"It would do us both good to get out and stop moping about
And why she could again if she wasn't careful.
She walked away from the Suburban while he changed. He needed privacy, and she needed distance. She jabbed her fingers through her hair.
The guy takes her seriously and she goes all weak in the knees. She reminded herself that other men who'd known her professionally had also taken her seriously—
because
she was smart and only spoke when she had something to say.
She glanced over at Mitch as he toweled off his face.
Love.
This could not be happening again.
It would not happen.
Kelsey didn't see or hear from Mitch over the next three days. She was glad for the break. The distance gave her a chance to steady her shaky emotions and to get her balance back.
Donna's body had still not been released for burial, so she spent the time cleaning Ruth's house. She spoke to her magazine editor once and, against her better judgment, turned down an assignment in Bali.
Each day, the boys showed up after school, cleaned with her for a few hours and then hauled away the mountains of paper Ruth had collected over the years. Kelsey had worked hard on the house and by week's end, the downstairs had been stripped of the clutter.
So far, she'd found nothing to tell her anything about Donna. She tossed stacks of newspapers, the box of utility bills that dated back to the 1950s, and more phone books than she'd ever seen, even in the New York Public Library.
The work was good for her. She felt a sense of accomplishment and triumph with each garbage bag she dragged out of the house.
On the fourth day, she was even feeling like she'd kicked this miniobsession she had for Mitch Garrett. She only thought about him two or three times a day, instead of six or seven as she had on the first day. And she was only a little put out by the fact that he hadn't called.
When her cell phone rang unexpectedly, she was in the den. The cell was in the kitchen. She vaulted over two boxes, sprinted down the hallway and banged her knee on the kitchen table as she answered the phone on the fifth ring.
"Hello," she said breathless.
"Kelsey," Stu said.
She allowed a tiny bit of disappointment before she shrugged it off. Okay, no Mitch. What did she care? "Stu, how are you?"
"Chris still hasn't turned up." Worry coated each word.
"What's it been, five days?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"No word from the police?"
"They haven't found a trace of him. I've checked all the hospitals in the state and no one has seen him."
"That's a good sign, right?"
"I suppose."
She reached for a cup of coffee left over from breakfast. "Chris is known to take off, Stu."
"Not like this."
She took a sip. The coffee was cold. "Hey, why don't we meet for dinner? We could go into town and I'll treat you to dinner at that Italian place you used to like. It's still there, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's still there, but we'll never get close to town tonight."
She set the coffee down. "Why?"
"It's Memorial Weekend, Kelsey." He sounded as if he was talking to a small child.
"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that."
"They block the streets off. Bands play and the police department sets off fireworks."
"The police department" was code for Mitch Garrett, no doubt. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Stu if Mitch was going to be there, but she held off. What did it matter who set off the fireworks?
"Yeah, I went to one of those parties years ago." Ruth had known everyone in town and had always had a blast, but Kelsey had never felt right there. She didn't belong around real families. "Well, maybe you could come by here and I could cook you supper. I make a mean Thai dish."
He hesitated. "We should go to the festival."
She stepped out the back door, needing fresh air. She leaned against the round wood column and stared up at the brilliantly blue sky. "I don't know, Stu. I'm not one for crowds."
"It would do us both good to get out and stop moping about
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