Whirlwind. Nancy Martin
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“Heavens, no!” Liza collected herself, not wanting to reveal how stirred up she felt, arriving in Tyler for the first time since her last monumental blowup with her family. She said crisply, “Just take me to the nearest garage, please.”
Forrester leaned out the window to check the clock in the tower on the bank. “It’s only seven o’clock,” he noted. “I’ll bet Carl’s garage is still closed.”
Exasperated, Liza snapped. “Small towns! Haven’t all-night business hours reached the provinces yet?”
“We’re not used to wild girls driving their convertibles around in the wee hours, I guess.”
“What about some breakfast?” Liza proposed, sitting up straight in the seat as the thought struck her. Anything to avoid stopping at her mother’s house! Manufacturing some eagerness, she said, “Does Marge still make those yummy blueberry pancakes? We could go to the diner and have something to eat—coffee, sausage, the works! Do you know how long it’s been since I had real Wisconsin sausage? Let’s go. My treat. I’m starved.”
Obediently, Forrester whipped the wheel over and made a slow U-turn on Main Street, aiming for a lucky parking space right in front of Marge’s Diner. He slipped into the spot and put the truck in park. But he didn’t shut off the engine or make a move to get out.
“You go ahead,” he said, keeping both hands on the wheel.
“What?”
“Go get some breakfast. You can walk over to Carl’s when you’re finished. You know where his garage is?”
“What is this?” Liza demanded on a laugh. “A brush-off?”
“Go eat,” he said stubbornly.
“Look, Forrester, I’m sorry.” Firmly she said, “I’m sorry about that little scene back at the lodge. Maybe I was trying to manipulate you. I can’t help it sometimes. It’s a habit, I guess. I can be pretty brassy, and I shouldn’t have pushed you—even if it was a pretty good kiss. But I’m willing to put the whole business behind me if that’s what you want. What do you say? If you were going to eat those fish, here’s a chance for something better. I’ll buy you a real breakfast and we’ll forget it happened.”
“I thought you were broke,” he said, looking out the window to avoid meeting her eye.
Liza laughed. “Well, I’ve got twenty dollars left, I think. Plenty for a couple of orders of pancakes. Come on.”
He shook his head mulishly. “I have work to do.”
“Like what? More fishing? Look, I’m trying to make it up to you! Come on.”
“No, thanks.”
“For Pete’s sake, Forrester, what’s the big deal?”
He turned to Liza and put his hand out, but didn’t meet her eye. “It’s been an education meeting you, Miss Baron.”
“You could call me Liza, at least,” she said dryly, not accepting his handshake, but impudently folding her arms over her chest instead. “I think we got to know each other well enough for that, don’t you? I mean, that was one hell of a kiss you gave me.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, turning back to determinedly stare out the windshield. “I was annoyed and took it out on you. Let’s forget it.”
Liza couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s it? You’re throwing me out of the truck and saying goodbye?”
“It’s nothing personal—”
“Nothing personal! I like that! Fifteen minutes ago you were kissing the stuffing out of me, and I’ve caught you looking at my legs—don’t deny it! So you can’t just say goodbye like this.”
“Miss Baron—”
“Liza!”
“All right, Liza!” he said, temper snapping. “I’m not hungry, get it? And I’ve got things to do, dammit!”
“Like what?”
“Just get the hell out of my truck, will you?”
“It’s not your truck—”
“I’ve got more right to it than you do, so get out!”
Furious, Liza shoved open the passenger door. “You can’t get rid of me so easily, you know! I’ve got to go back to the lodge to get my car. And don’t try hiding in the trees when I come, Forrester! You won’t get away with that!”
“Goodbye!” he barked as she got out of the truck.
“Good riddance!”
Liza slammed the door of the truck and stood breathing hard on the sidewalk while he pulled out and and drove back down Main Street without even waving in the rearview mirror.
“Jerk!” Liza shouted after him.
The door of Marge’s Diner opened behind her, and a man stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was tall and white-haired, and he squinted in the bright sunlight. “Mary Elizabeth?” he demanded.
She spun around. “Granddad!”
Judson Ingalls stood under the canvas awning of the diner, fingering a toothpick and glaring up the street after the departing truck. Without further greeting, he said, “Was that Cliff Forrester?”
“Yes.” Liza strode to his side, absurdly happy to see her grandfather in the same old jeans and flannel shirt he had always worn despite his position of respect in the community. He looked just the same as ever—a gnarled but strong oak of a man with a sun-bronzed face, commanding Ingalls eyes and the firm Swedish jaw of his ancestors. “Oh, Granddad, I can’t believe how wonderful it is to see you!”
Judson said, “You shouldn’t be hanging around with a man like that, Mary Elizabeth.”
She laughed and reached for her grandfather with both hands. “I’m back in town for the first time in three years and already you’re criticizing the men I see? Granddad, how about a hug?”
Avoiding the hug with a firm grip on Liza’s shoulder, Judson met her eye at last and said abruptly, “That Forrester fellow is dangerous, Mary Elizabeth. You shouldn’t be with him.”
Liza faltered. “Dangerous?”
Judson’s brow was thunderous. “The man’s violent—a crazy Vietnam vet who’s still screwed up. Why, I’m surprised he even spoke to you. Usually he avoids people completely.”
“He was in Vietnam?”
“Vietnam or Cambodia or some such place. You stay away from him, my girl. I don’t want you getting hurt by some fanatic! Keep away from Cliff Forrester, you understand?”
Liza blinked in confusion, СКАЧАТЬ