Picket Fence Promises. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ Prichett?” I squawked. “Why?”

      “Because you called and wanted to know how I was doing.”

      “So?” Another squawk. I should have been cast in a pirate movie. The part of the green-and-blue macaw will be played by Bernice Strum….

      “So I came to tell you.”

      Chapter Two

      Without thinking, I snagged Alex’s hand and pulled him into the salon.

      “This is crazy—”

      “You own this place?” Alex immediately began to prowl around, forcing me to follow him. His movements were easy and relaxed, while I did the jitterbug in his footsteps.

      “Don’t change the subject—”

      “How many people work for you?”

      “Three. Me, myself and I,” I said, exasperated. “Now will you just pinch me and wake me up from this dream I’m having so I can go back to my ordinary life, minus the handsome celebrity?”

      “Mmm, a dream. That’s promising. You could have said nightmare. And where would you like me to pinch you?” He grinned.

      Shields up!

      “Aggha.” That’s all I could manage and I know that the spell check on my computer could never have found that particular word.

      He grinned. “You look a little shocked, Bern.”

      “That’s because, number one, Phoebe said you were in Australia, and number two, she told me she wouldn’t mention that I called. I can’t believe she hasn’t retired yet, by the way. She was ancient when…”

      When we met. I didn’t want to revisit the past. Denial, remember? It works for me.

      “Phoebe is retired, but she house-sits for me when I’m on location. What a coincidence, huh? That she was there when you called?”

      I felt a sudden urge to visit Esther at the nursing home. Maybe she could make sense of this. For the past few months I’d been visiting her at the Golden Oaks and she’d been helping me sort through and discard things in my past that were weighing me down. I knew now that there was no such thing as good luck or bad luck or coincidence. But this was just too…I don’t know what. Terrifying, that’s what it was. Had I missed something? Wasn’t the Christian life supposed to be about tranquility and peace? The twenty-third Psalm, right? “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters.”

      I need my green pastures and quiet waters right about now, Lord.

      “No coincidence. I just called because I wondered how you were doing,” I said defensively.

      “After you ran out on me twenty years ago. Wait, that would have been the first time you ran out on me. The second time was ten years ago in Chicago, wasn’t it? This must be like a ten-year-class-reunion type of thing for you, Bern. It got me curious. Why you called out of the blue like that.”

      I knew why I’d called him. It would have been hard enough to talk to him over the phone with a few thousand miles separating us, but with him right here in front of me, it was next to impossible. How was I supposed to tell Alex he’d fathered a child that I’d given up for adoption? And that she was now part of my life and might eventually ask about her birth father?

      “So you decided to travel from L.A. to Wisconsin to find out.” The sudden urge to launch myself into his arms was overwhelming. I knew if I closed my eyes, I’d remember how they felt around me. I was on dangerous ground, that was sure, scrambling for a toehold.

      I grabbed on to God. What had I done without Him all my life? With all the times over the past few months that I’d clung to Him like a baby opossum, I wondered if He was getting a little tired of it. Annie would probably say no. Well, that was good, because if He was going to continue to tip my life upside down, He had to know that I was going to hang on to Him for dear life, right?

      “I told you, I’m on vacation. Where did you find these hair dryers? They look like they belong in Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Is this decaf?”

      “No, it’s regular,” I said through gritted teeth as he shrugged and drank it anyway.

      “I haven’t eaten since five o’clock this morning.”

      “Really.”

      “I saw a café down the street.”

      “Absolutely not.” He couldn’t go to Sally’s. I’d seen what the town did to Elise when she was a contestant for the pageant. Parades. Billboards. What on earth would they do with someone like Alex? They’d probably empty the town bank account and bronze the entire sidewalk where he’d walked.

      “I’ll be back.”

      Wait, wasn’t that Schwarzenegger’s line? Stick to your own movies, buddy.

      I hurried to catch up with him as he headed out the door and almost tripped over the suitcases still on the sidewalk. “You can’t leave these here.”

      “They’ll be fine. This looks like a town filled with honest people.”

      Honest, yes. Desperate in their need for something that would lift them out of obscurity, absolutely. I couldn’t guarantee that Alex’s possessions wouldn’t end up on eBay by the end of the day. Just to generate some attention.

      Like a beagle on the trail of a bunny, Alex lifted his nose and started down the street. Every Tuesday morning, Sally makes homemade cinnamon rolls and sells them for fifty cents apiece. It sounds reasonable, but she also raises the price of coffee seventy-five cents. The whole town smells like a bakery and we respond like Pavlov’s dogs and eagerly pay the difference. Donald Trump could learn a few things from Sally Rapinski.

      I pushed the luggage out of the way with my foot as I jogged to keep up with him. Just the sight of that luggage—and not one overnight bag but a whole matched set—added another reason why Alex Scott could not vacation in Prichett.

      “There isn’t a motel in town. Where are you planning to stay on this alleged vacation?” I panted. My lungs were reminding me that they weren’t used to this. Exercise always ranks either one or two on my list of New Year’s resolutions every year, sliding dismally to the bottom by mid-February, only to disappear completely by Easter. Too many chocolate bunnies and marshmallow chicks to compete with. Why even try?

      He didn’t break stride. “No motel? Really?”

      He chuckled and my palms started to sweat again.

      I had a sudden epiphany. “There is a bed-and-breakfast. Not four-star or anything like you’re used to, though.” Desperate times called for desperate measures so I squashed a twinge of guilt for mentioning the only place open for guests in Prichett during the off-season.

      Everyone in town referred to it as the Lightning Strike Inn. Charity O’Malley owned it and she had to be as old as the Victorian itself. Prichett’s houses were mostly modest one-and two-story structures but the Lightning Strike was on the historical СКАЧАТЬ