Man In A Million. Muriel Jensen

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СКАЧАТЬ beside Randy as he watched her car disappear down the highway.

      “Yeah,” Randy agreed, trapped in the vivid memory of her standing in front of him, pale and cool and smelling of jasmine.

      “You’re interested?”

      Randy forced himself back to reality. He’d loved Jenny and lost her to one of life’s dirty tricks. They’d been young and hopeful, with a lifetime of plans in front of them, then she was gone within four months of a brutal diagnosis. He’d been interning at a county hospital, full of new knowledge and proud of all modern medicine had to offer. But it hadn’t been enough to help Jenny.

      “No,” he said to Chilly, heading back into the ambulance bay. The shadows, he hoped, would hide the hopelessness that always overwhelmed him when he thought of her.

      “You looked interested,” Chilly persisted. “And—you know—it’s time.”

      “It’s never going to be time.” He went through the bay to the office, aware that their afternoon break was overdue. He needed caffeine. Badly. “And if I look interested, it’s only…scientific, you know? What gave her that troubled look coupled with that cool exterior?”

      Chilly followed him. “You told her she was too young for dark circles,” he reminded him. “That sounds pretty personal. I say you’re too young to give up on marriage and family.”

      “I haven’t given up,” he said, grinning at Kitty Morton, who answered the phones and did most of their paperwork. She was in her early thirties, had two little boys and an ex-husband who hadn’t paid child support since he’d walked out on her. She was blond and pretty and he was always surprised by her optimism.

      “Then, why’d you let her get away?”

      He turned the grin on his friend. “Because she expected me to try to stop her. You never get anywhere with a woman doing what she expects.”

      Kitty looked at him with a frown. “Who told you that? That’s totally false. Particularly if she’s expecting chocolates and diamonds and stuff like that. Who are we talking about, anyway?”

      “Paris, um…” Chilly began, groping for her last name.

      “O’Hara,” Randy provided. “We’re going for coffee, Kitty. Want us to bring you back something?”

      Kitty was still focused on the woman under discussion. Her eyes widened and she leaned toward them, her arms folded on her desk. “The cabbie? She’s something, isn’t she? Everybody wonders why she came home from school and started the cab company. She was so set on being a lawyer. Her mom was a model, you know, then an actress. She’s on a shoot in Africa right now for some new line of designer clothes for older women. And her sister was married to some senator, or something, and she found him fooling around and came back about the same time Paris did. Those women remind me of the Gabors. They’re so beautiful, and they live in that wonderful old Craftsman bungalow on this side of the lake. Well, Paris isn’t beautiful, but I think she’s mysterious and fascinating.”

      Randy studied her. “How do you know all this stuff?” Kitty knew everything about everyone.

      “I’m in Addy Whitcomb’s quilting group. What she doesn’t know, she finds out.”

      Randy rolled his eyes. “Of course. I understand even CNN goes to Addy when they want to confirm information. You want coffee? A doughnut, or something?”

      Kitty shook her head. “Thanks. I’ve got a date tonight and I have to fit into my leather skirt.”

      Randy and Chilly, headed for the door, stopped. “I thought we had clearance rights on all your dates,” Chilly said. “Who is this guy, and how come we don’t know about him?”

      “He’s Mike Miller, the new guy on nights,” she supplied, her cheeks becoming a little pink. “And he works his days off for Whitcomb’s Wonders, just like you two. That makes him sort of preapproved.”

      Hank Whitcomb, Addy’s son, had begun a sort of temp agency for craftsmen several years ago that now provided a broad variety of services for the homeowner or businessman. Whitcomb’s Wonders provided plumbing, electrical work, carpentry, gardening, furnace maintenance and a variety of other services. Randy worked with the janitorial crew on his days off. Chilly was on the gardening team. The simple work was a welcome relief from the life-and-death pressure of being a paramedic.

      It was a boon for all of them to work part-time while going to school, raising children or living other dreams.

      “What’s he do?” Randy asked.

      “Carpentry,” she replied. “Jackie Whitcomb assures me he’s a gentleman. He redid the cabinets in their kitchen.”

      Jackie was Hank’s wife and the mayor of Maple Hill. Her judgment could be trusted.

      “Okay, then,” Chilly said. “But we want a full report tomorrow.”

      “We’ll see.” The telephone rang and she picked it up. They waited to see if they were needed. She put a hand over the receiver. “It’s Mark and Charlie. They’re finished at the school and on their way back. Go have your coffee.”

      Randy and Chilly loped across the lawn, headed for the bakery a block away. Randy glanced back in the direction of the driveway, absently wondering if the newly washed ambulance left sufficient room for the vehicle returning from the school, when he noticed a dark object on the pavement. He veered toward it and saw that it was black leather and shaped like an envelope. A light chain attached to it had a broken link on one end.

      “What is that?” Chilly asked as Randy bent to pick it up. “Looks like a trucker’s wallet.”

      Randy turned it over in his hand and, seeing no identification, unsnapped it and looked inside.

      There were quite a few bills in it, some of small denomination, but a few twenties, and a lot of change. Glued to the inside of the flap was a business card with the Berkshire Cab telephone numbers on it.

      “Ah,” Chilly said, looking over his shoulder. “It belongs to the lovely Miss O’Hara. What’s that?” He pointed to something tucked behind the bills.

      Randy pulled out a foil wrapper that had been folded over. It was half of a chocolate bar. “Seems the lady has a chocolate habit.”

      “Is that the first of your scientific observations?” Chilly asked with a grin.

      Randy snapped the leather envelope closed. “I’ll take it back to Kitty. I’m sure the first time the lady tries to make change this afternoon, she’ll notice her missing wallet and call.”

      Chilly snickered and followed as Randy hurried back to the office door, ran inside with the wallet and explained briefly to Kitty what had happened. “I don’t know,” he said when Randy reemerged. “It was weird. She stared at you as though she couldn’t believe you were real, yet she couldn’t wait to get away from you.”

      “There’s money involved—she’ll call.” Randy started off again for the bakery. “And I do have this sort of mesmerizing effect on women. They can’t help but stare at me.”

      Chilly responded to his teasingly conceited claim with the same matter-of-factness. “You СКАЧАТЬ