For His Daughter. Ann Evans

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СКАЧАТЬ His parents had their hands full trying to keep up with him. Rafe was such a daredevil. And the women—he was like the Pied Piper.”

      Dani waited for more, but Cissy had discovered a final black olive in her salad and was busy chasing it down with her fork, a feat that Becky seemed to find fascinating.

      “I can’t wait to see him,” Becky said at last. “He was so great looking as a teenager. Imagine what the man must look like.”

      Dani could think of several boys from high school who had not aged well at all. “A lot can happen to change a person in that amount of time,” she said. “Are you sure he’s still worthy of all this anticipation?”

      Becky rolled her eyes. “Honey, I went to school with him. You didn’t. Trust me, he’s worth it no matter what age he is. Besides, he’s one of the D’Angelos. They’ve all got that mysterious Italian blood. They age like fine wine.”

      Cissy had found her olive and now sat happily munching it. She nodded agreement to Becky’s claim.

      Dani frowned down at her. “You couldn’t have been more than ten when he left.”

      “I was nine. But I remember my older sister being nuts for him. She snuck out of the house once to meet him. Ended up getting grounded for two weeks. Even after our parents had yelled at her, she just looked at me all dreamy-eyed and said with a goofy smile, ‘Cissy, it was all worth it.’”

      Becky’s head bobbed. “You can find stories like that all over this town.”

      Dani sniffed. “I wonder if that’s not all you can find all over this town because of Rafe D’Angelo.”

      Becky looked confused, but Cissy arched one blond brow. “You mean little kiddies? Naw. Any woman who hung around with Rafe will tell you he was always a gentleman, even when you were getting dumped by him. Sexy, powerful…”

      “How can an eighteen-year-old have any power?” Dani asked, truly skeptical now.

      “You’d have to have been here to understand. Demanding, daring—but according to my sister, he always took good care of you.”

      That made Dani laugh. “Ah. A thoughtful cad.”

      Becky tilted her head at Dani. “I’m sensing you have some hostility toward men.”

      “Really?” Dani replied. “Because if they rounded up every man on earth right now and sent them all to the moon, they would still be too close to suit me.”

      She sounded so bitter that she wished she hadn’t said anything. But the truth was she knew all about devilishly attractive men who didn’t have it in them to be faithful or trustworthy. She’d just broken off with a first-class rat. Two years ago, she’d come close to moving in with one. Even as far back as when she’d been working in Vegas she could remember one particular playboy whose favorite hobby seemed to be breaking hearts. Oz had been his name—the Wizard of Women.

      Her mother had been right. Men never failed to let you down.

      Becky gave her a sad-eyed glance. “Divorced, sweetie?”

      Oh, well. Might as well admit the truth. Besides, she was well over Kirk. “No. But I just dumped a rich, powerful jerk who sounds just like your Rafe D’Angelo.”

      Becky perked up considerably. Even Dani had heard that Becky was looking for husband number three. “Does he live around here by any chance?”

      “No. Denver. And you’re welcome to his address if you think you can make him concentrate on anyone but himself for more than ten minutes at a time. The louse has a Ph.D. in arrogance and a master’s degree in snake-oil salesmanship.”

      “You’ll get over him.”

      “Already am. But you were saying…”

      “Oh, yes.” Becky settled in, heading back to gossipy basics. “Just that I heard from Althea Bendix who heard it from Polly Swinburne that Rafe has bought up half a block of old buildings on the town’s main street. Including the old Three Bs Social Club.”

      Very few of the buildings in Broken Yoke were noteworthy, but Dani had already learned that one of the genuine historic sites in town was the Three Bs, a rambling, deserted old hotel and watering hole of questionable origin. Given the right designer and a huge infusion of cash, it might make an interesting salute to the town’s silver-mining days.

      “What’s wrong with fixing up the Three Bs?” Cissy asked Becky. “It’s been an eyesore long enough.”

      “Well, where would he get that kind of money, for one thing? When he and his daddy had their big falling out, he ran off without a nickel to his name. Of course, he could have won the lottery. He always was a lucky devil.”

      Dani tapped her chin, thinking of the business possibilities for the old place. “He could cut it up, I suppose. Turn it into shops and restaurants and maybe even condominiums.”

      Becky shivered visibly. “You’d never catch me going anywhere near there. People say it’s haunted.”

      Cissy made a derogatory sound and dumped her empty salad bowl into the trash can beside her desk. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. People say Elvis is still alive and you don’t hear any new songs on the radio, do you? I think it would make a wonderful focal point for the town. A way to revitalize downtown.”

      Becky wasn’t about to be sidetracked by logic. “Why would Rafe care about revitalizing downtown? He wasn’t all that fond of Broken Yoke when he lived here before.”

      “Maybe things have changed,” Cissy said. “Everyone changes. You long to put down roots eventually.”

      “Rafe D’Angelo, putting down roots?” Becky said in a horrified tone. “My Lord, what’s the world coming to?”

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE SILVER SADDLE BAR and Grill, which was more bar than grill, boasted a sizable back room where private parties could be held. This morning, more than forty people had crammed into the space, and there wasn’t the slimmest hope that a party was in the making.

      The planning session for Broken Yoke’s summer festival was in full swing, and so far, there was only one thing that everyone at the town meeting could agree on. That no one could agree on anything.

      Rafe D’Angelo sat toward the back of the room, next to his older brother Nick. Over the tops of people’s heads—mostly gray, he noticed—he could make out his father seated near the front.

      Just like Pop, he thought. Because of his stroke, Sam D’Angelo still relied on his wheelchair occasionally instead of crutches to get around, but that didn’t keep him from seeking out the center of the action. And right now, the center of the action was up front, between those two old geezers Mort Calloway and Howard Hackett.

      Over the years, Rafe had developed a pretty keen nose for trouble. He could usually tell just when fists were going to replace words. Right now, he was fairly certain that Mort was thirty seconds away from decking Howard.

      The fact that Mort was in his eighties and needed a СКАЧАТЬ