The Runaway Bride. Patricia Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ parts we need and then order them.”

      That didn’t sound quick. “So how long is that?”

      He shot her a dry look. “Can’t say yet. I’ll get started first thing in the morning. If you don’t want me to work on it, you can always call for a tow to take you back to New York.”

      No, she didn’t want that in the least.

      “I’ll wait,” she said. But if he thought he was going to drag this out for money, she had lawyers who could end his business in a matter of days.

      “You said you’ve never met your aunt?” he asked as he backed the truck out of the parking space.

      “No. She’s always been distanced from the family, so I never got the chance.”

      “So she didn’t call you?” he asked.

      “Call me?” She frowned. “We’ve never even spoken. Why?”

      “Nothing.” He put the truck into Drive and pulled onto the road.

      This town was miniscule, and the fact that people actually lived in a place like this was mystifying. Compared to New York’s bustle, the three or four cars along this street were kind of eerie—like a Walking Dead episode. But even that didn’t make her want to head back to New York right away. The big city also held the wedding she’d run from. She closed her eyes, trying to dissipate the anxiety that bubbled up inside her. Her parents were already furious, as the McMann family would be. She’d talked to her parents briefly—long enough to have them order her to return and for her to tell them it wasn’t happening—and then she’d turned off her phone. She couldn’t deal with their anger right now, especially when it was all aimed at her instead of her cheating fiancé. She didn’t much care what Calvin thought; he could go rot somewhere, for all she was concerned.

      The newspapers, the magazines, network news channels...they’d have a field day with this. How long had it taken before people figured out the bride was missing? Probably not too long. The security detail would have made sure of that. But thanks to Kitty’s tireless PR work, no fewer than four newspapers and two bridal magazines would have been there to record the catastrophe.

      New York traffic had been miserable, as it always was, but luckily an angry bride shaking her fist out the window blended right in in New York. She hadn’t called her parents until she hit open road, and by that time, Milhouse and Kitty Morgan were beyond tender concern and had gone straight to irate shouting.

      Should she call them now? They’d be worried sick. Also furious, and she had no desire to bring her father’s security detail over to this tiny town to hustle her back home. She was thirty, not a child...and yet she was plenty old enough to know that her family’s power lay in more than simple wealth. Their influence was political, and politics required kid gloves with everything...including cheating fiancés.

      “Runt River is pretty small,” Liam was saying, and she dragged her attention back to the present. “I think our population is seven hundred now—we hovered at 698 for about three years before some babies were born.”

      He looked over at her, and she thought she caught some humor in his half smile. He looked kind, and after the day she’d had, she was grateful for a little bit of kindness.

      “So why are you here?” she asked.

      “I’ve lived here most of my life.” He shrugged. “It’s home.”

      “And you have enough business around here?” she asked dubiously. This was her education in marketing and economics shining through.

      “Oh, yeah,” he replied. “I’m the only garage in Runt River, and then there are people coming down the highway who have engine trouble. There are garages in nearby towns, but those are far enough away that I do okay.”

      “That’s a good setup,” she said with a nod. “A cozy little local monopoly. I like it.”

      “I can’t complain.” He glanced in her direction again, and she noticed a new sparkle of respect in his eye. Most people didn’t expect her to care about anything beyond fashion and brunch, but she was no vapid socialite. Bernadette was the future owner and CEO of her father’s businesses—a responsibility she didn’t take lightly.

      It was a relief to be so far away from New York and the pressures there, but she was nervous about meeting Lucille. She’d heard the stories. Lucille was her father’s sister, and apparently, there had been no love lost between them. She’d married some guy named Arnie Neiman—someone desperately below her—and settled into Nowhere, USA. But there was more to that story—one Bernie had managed to piece together over the years. The whole estrangement had been about a three-carat engagement ring that had belonged to a grandmother. She’d verbally promised the ring to her grandson, Milhouse, after he’d sweet talked her into it. Lucille had already turned down two very charming marriage prospects, and Grandma was planning on proving her displeasure by changing the will, but then died before she had the chance. The will left the ring to Lucille, and Lucille wouldn’t part with it. And a feud was born. It was ridiculous. A three-carat ring was a nice size, but it wasn’t exactly unattainable. Bernie’s own engagement ring was probably worth more. Milhouse had bought Kitty plenty of bigger diamonds over the years, so why let a three-carat ring come between siblings? That was why she’d decided to come out here to find Lucille—she might be the only person who understood her instinct to run like heck. Still, Bernie had never met her aunt, and she was curious...who was this woman who kept a ring and cut out the rest of her family?

      “What’s my aunt like?” she asked.

      Liam was silent for a few beats. “Lucille is kind. A good neighbor. Honest.”

      “But you didn’t know she was a Morgan,” she countered. “Are you sure she’s that honest?” The mechanic’s description didn’t match what she’d heard about her aunt.

      “I haven’t heard her side of it yet,” Liam replied. “So I’m reserving judgment.”

      That was new—who did that these days, reserving judgment on another person’s failings? No one she knew personally. Apparently, Aunt Lucille had some loyal friends.

      Runt River’s downtown consisted of a few stores—a ranch supply store, a burger joint, an ice cream shop, a drugstore—and only one stoplight that Bernie could see. Most vehicles seemed to be pickup trucks that parked in the angled spots in front of stores, their tails hanging out into the road. Downtown came and went in the space of two streets, and then they turned on to a street of houses. These were decent-sized, well-maintained, with large yards and mature trees. In New York, they’d be worth a couple million, but out here in Runt River, Ohio, they would probably sell for pocket change.

      “Here we are,” he said, pulling into the drive of a large white house. An older woman sat on the porch, a toddler beside her eating crackers out of a box she held in her lap. The little guy was cute—with the biggest brown eyes she’d ever seen.

      Was that her aunt?

      Bernie couldn’t make out any of the Morgan traits in the older woman. She was gray—what woman let herself go gray in their family?—and she carried some extra weight. She wore a flower-patterned summer dress, and her hair was cut in a chin-length bob—just a touch of fashionableness. The older woman squinted when she spotted Bernie in the front seat, then leaned forward.

      Liam got out of the truck, and СКАЧАТЬ