Matthew's Choice. Patricia Bradley

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      “Actually, I never considered being a musician. I think that was just to irritate Dad. I did get a bachelor’s in psychology then knocked around for a while.”

      “So, how did you get to be director of social services in Cedar Grove?”

      He leaned back and folded his arms. “That is all your fault.”

      “My fault?”

      “Yeah, all that time I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, something you said at graduation kept bouncing around in my head.”

      She cocked her head. “And that was?”

      “You paraphrased John Kennedy, who paraphrased an old school master. ‘Don’t ask what our country can do for us—’”

      “Ask what we can do for her.” Allie grinned as she finished the sentence. “I was young and idealistic.”

      “You’re still idealistic. I’ve wanted to tell you for some time that the impact of your words prompted me to apply for a job with the Department of Human Services in Washington, and it didn’t take long to figure out I needed a master’s in social work.”

      “Why did you come back to Cedar Grove?”

      He took her hand and caressed her fingers. “Because of you.”

      Her face burning, she withdrew her hand. “Why are you suddenly interested in me?”

      “It’s not sudden. I’ve always been interested, but in high school and during college, you only had eyes for Matt. When I returned to Cedar Grove last year, friends told me not to waste my time. You were married to your job and your volunteer projects. I invented excuses to be at the shelter when I knew you would be there, but every time we met, you pulled into your shell and hung out the Do Not Disturb sign. That’s why I resorted to practically begging your brother to invite me last night.”

      “Why didn’t you just flat-out ask?”

      Peter flashed a wicked grin. “Let’s see if that will work.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward her. “Miss Carson, I enjoyed dancing with you last night. There’s a nice supper club in Cedar Grove. So what do you say? Dinner and dancing Friday night?”

      Why not? Dancing with Peter had been fun, and today had been...different. Just because they went out, didn’t mean she had to give him her heart. It was in too many pieces anyway. She tilted her head toward him. “I would love to.”

      “Good.” He motioned to the waiter for another refill on their coffee. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

      “You can ask. Don’t know if you’ll get an answer.”

      “What did you ever see in Matt Jefferies?”

      “I can’t believe you asked me that.”

      He shrugged. “I just never understood why you dated him. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

      Suddenly Peter’s interest in her became clearer. Allie blotted her mouth with her napkin. A memory from high school. Peter losing a math competition to Matt. Peter telling Matt he’d never be anything but the kid from the wrong side of town. Surely that wasn’t what Peter referred to. But she had to know for sure.

      Allie fingered the handle of the porcelain cup, and on cue, the waiter appeared and refilled it with coffee. After he left, she stirred cream into her cup. “You’re not still competing with Matt, are you?”

      “Compete with Matt? Of course not. I’m glad to see him doing well. I just always thought you belonged with someone more like me.” He smiled, exposing perfectly even white teeth.

      “And not the kid from Beaker Street?”

      A red flush started at his neck and ended at his ears. “That was a stupid remark I made a long time ago. I never should’ve said it. I didn’t like that he always beat me in everything. Math, quarterback position, you.”

      She eyed him over the cup’s rim.

      “Honestly,” he said, “I’ve always regretted saying that.”

      What was it she’d always heard about people using the word honestly?

      Peter’s cell phone rang, and he slid it from his belt. He frowned. “I can’t believe I’m getting another call from the office. Excuse me.”

      He stepped away from the table. When he returned, his face was pinched and the muscle in his jaw twitched.

      “That case from last night?” She’d been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject without being too obvious. Now the problem was solved.

      “Yeah,” he muttered. “The kid’s run away.”

      “Last night you said the child was a nine-year-old boy. He may be in my reading class. Maybe I can help. It’s possible I know the family, or where he might’ve gone.”

      “Oh, I know where he’s gone. The hospital to check on his OD’d mother. Sarah at the shelter said that’s all he talked about.”

      Protective son, overdosed mother. Don’t let it be— “Is the mother’s name Mariah Connors?”

      He stared at her. “How do you know Mariah Connors?”

      She swallowed the bile that rose up her throat. Poor Noah. “I’ve counseled the boy, had parent-teacher meetings with Mariah, so I know the situation. She’s Matt Jefferies’s sister.”

      * * *

      MATT TOOK ONE last look at the diamond engagement ring and closed the box. He’d locked the wedding band away in his wall safe until the wedding. Wedding. He liked the sound of the word.

      A tiny flicker of regret pierced his memory. He’d asked Allie to marry him once, and she’d turned him down. Looking back, it was probably for the best. Allie never approved of his bold plans to get ahead, and she wouldn’t fit into his present lifestyle. Besides, she was his past. Jessica was his future. A future that was within his grasp, one he had worked hard to get. Jessica wanted the same things he did. But it was more than wanting the same things. She was kind and caring.

      His heart tendered at a memory of Jessica in the park last summer. She’d set up her easel at the Memphis Zoo to sketch the snow leopards, and a small girl had wanted to “help.” Without hesitation, Jessica flipped to a new sheet in her sketch pad and spent the next fifteen minutes letting the child try her hand at drawing.

      The kitten mewed, and he glanced at the cardboard box. The kitten had surprised him when he returned home with it, lapping milk from a bowl. It mewed again. “Shh,” he said as he knelt by the box. “You need to be quiet. Jessica will be here soon and if she hears you, she’ll want to hold you and that will make her sneeze. Are you hungry?”

      Matt had cleaned the closed eye, and now the kitten stared at him with two good eyes. It mewed again, and he frowned. He’d barely gotten a little more milk poured when the doorbell rang. He settled it gently on an old T-shirt in СКАЧАТЬ