At Any Price. Margaret Allison

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СКАЧАТЬ stopped. Jack’s father had died the year after he left for college. They had buried him in the town cemetery, not too far from where her parents were buried. “I know,” she said. “But your memories aren’t all bad, are they?”

      “No. Thanks to you…and Matt,” he said, adding Matt’s name almost as an afterthought.

      “Lots of other people cared about you, too,” Katie said. “Lots of other people still do. Mr. Pete was just asking me about you the other day.”

      “How’s his business?” Jack asked. He had worked for Mr. Pete for years, bagging groceries and helping out around the store.

      “Like everything else, not great.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said. Then without skipping a beat he said, “Should we order?”

      Katie ate her meal in silence, inwardly steaming about the cold, callous way Jack had handled the news of Mr. Pete’s business. How could he be so offhand about a man who had been nothing but kind to him? After they finished eating, she said, “Do you plan on seeing anyone else while you’re here?”

      He stood up and took her coat off the hook, held it open for her. “No.”

      “No?” she repeated as she slipped into her coat. “I’m sure Mrs. Bayons would like to see you.”

      “I don’t have time,” he said.

      “Maybe tomorrow—”

      “No. I have something to take care of in the morning. After which I’m going directly to your office. I have to be back in the city tomorrow night.”

      “Oh, right.” For his date with Carol.

      “I doubt I have anything to say to anyone here, anyway.”

      His aim had been direct and sharp. She stopped walking and looked at him, hurt. She got the message. Jack had broken all connection to Newport Falls.

      But Jack appeared oblivious to her pain. He said goodbye to Joe and held the door open for her. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

      But she didn’t have a car. This morning, despite the fact that it was January and freezing cold, she had ridden her bike. She told Jack.

      He looked at her, surprised. “You rode your bike in this weather?”

      “Why not? The roads are clear. Besides, I wanted exercise.”

      “You’re not still living at your parents’ place, are you?”

      Her parents’ farm was about five miles outside of town. More than a hundred acres, it included an old and rather worn Victorian house and a pond where they had fished and swum in the summers, ice-skated in the winters. “I’ve moved back there, yes.”

      “It’s too far and too cold to ride all the way back. I’ll drive you. I rented a car at the airport.”

      But she didn’t think she could stand one more minute talking to him or not talking to him, as the case might be. What had happened to her friend? To the warm, caring, funny guy whom she had loved with all of her heart?

      Outside the newspaper, she stopped at the bike rack on the sidewalk. There was no lock on her bike, none was needed in Newport Falls. “Thanks for dinner,” she said. She felt a raindrop, then another. No matter, she was used to riding in all types of weather.

      Jack grabbed her hand and stopped her. He hesitated a moment and then said, “You can’t save the world, Devonworth.”

      “I don’t want to save the world, Reilly. Just Newport Falls.”

      He held tight, pulling her back toward him. “I can’t let you go like this.”

      “Why not?” she asked, her heart pounding.

      “Because,” he said, dropping her hand and motioning toward the sky, “it’s raining.”

      She pulled her sneakers out of her backpack. “You used to ride your bike in the rain all the time,” she replied as she switched shoes right there on the sidewalk. “Or did you forget about that, too?” When she was finished, she shoved her pumps into her bag and hopped on her bike as gracefully as she could. “See you tomorrow.”

      She pedaled through the dark streets. She knew each and every home by heart. They were inhabited by friends, by people she had known her entire life. As she drove by the yellow bungalow on the corner, she knew that the blue light flickering on the first floor meant Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were sitting in their matching La-Z-Boys, watching Jeopardy on the living-room TV. She pedaled past old Mrs. Honeywell’s house. She knew the dim light in the second-floor window meant Mrs. Honeywell was tucked into bed, petting her white poodle, Betsy, and reading one of the bloody mysteries she was so fond of. She passed by the little red house on the corner. The house was dark because its owners, Jan and Tony Bintlif, and their newborn son, Alex, were visiting Jan’s parents in Florida.

      She was glad it was raining, because if anyone saw her in the dark gloom of this January night, they wouldn’t notice her tears. Jack was right about one thing: she desperately wanted to save Newport Falls. She would never again find a place where everyone knew not only her first and last name, but her middle name, as well. A place where people didn’t have to worry about locking their doors. A place where stranger was a foreign word.

      Unfortunately, Marcella was right. Katie wouldn’t be able to save the town without Jack’s help.

      When headlights flashed behind her, Katie rode over to the side of the road. But the car didn’t pass. Instead, it pulled up alongside her. “You sure you don’t want a ride?” It was Jack.

      “I’m sure,” she said. “Good night.”

      He slowed the car down, and for a minute she thought he was going to turn around. But he didn’t. He followed behind her, his headlights illuminating the way.

      Jack followed her all the way home. He pulled his car into her driveway, parking behind her. He knew she was annoyed but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let her ride her bike on a rainy night alone. It made no difference that Newport Falls was the safest place in the country. The roads were slick and a tired driver might not notice someone pedaling a bike on the side of the road. After all, who in their right mind would ride a bike to work in January?

      Katie, of course. She had always done things differently from anyone else. Eccentric, they’d call her in New York City. There had never been, nor would there ever be, another woman like her. Feisty and opinionated, beautiful and brainy, with a killer body and a heart of gold.

      When Katie tapped on his window, he rolled it down. “You didn’t need to follow me home,” she said.

      “What?” he said, pretending to be surprised. “I thought this was the way to the inn!” The inn, which everyone knew, was directly next to the diner.

      Katie grinned. It was enough to make him smile. He nodded toward her parents’ house. “It still looks the same.”

      Katie nodded. “Thanks for following me,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she bounded off toward the house.

      Part СКАЧАТЬ