“See you at home.”
He shot her an odd look. “See you there.”
10
A
LANA HAD JUST
finished brushing her teeth when two sharp raps came at the kitchen door. She hurried into the hallway and peered around the door frame. Lucas stood in the open door.
“We’re due at the Huron airfield in an hour. You almost ready to go?”
She nodded. Duke trotted across the linoleum and nosed at Alana’s legs.
“Who’s watching Duke?”
“Tanya,” he said.
Alana looked up from scratching behind Duke’s ears. “Is she . . . ?”
“Capable of looking after him? She heard somehow I was taking a couple of days off and offered to keep an eye on him. She’s always had a soft spot for him. She’ll let me down, but she’d never let him down. I thought I’d give her a chance. He’s pretty easy to look after. I’ve got to run to the station, then I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“Do you mind if Adam’s mother rides along?”
Lucas looked at his watch. “Sure. Just call her and let her know we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She nodded again. Lucas clicked for Duke, who obediently turned and trotted back outside. Alana hastily applied a little mascara and lip gloss, then went into the bedroom to check her luggage one last time. She wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and a fitted brown leather jacket. She wore boots for the flight and had packed a pair of sandals for San Diego’s warmer climate. Her dress for the wedding was folded into the suitcase. She’d get it quickly pressed before Saturday evening. A couple of changes of underwear, her laptop, toiletries. Snugged into the middle of the soft clothes was her wedding present to Marissa. She’d purchased a platter composed of fired glass with encased prairie crocuses Marissa loved; it had been made by a fused-glass artist working outside Walkers Ford. It would be a pretty thing to have on the boat and remind her of home, useful to serve bread or cheese and crackers when they hosted little parties in various anchorages. Alana had called the artisan after she got home and rushed out to her studio to pick it up before she went to bed.
Alana zipped the bag closed and carried it down the hallway to wait by the door. She looked around the kitchen. She was leaving so much unfinished in Walkers Ford. The kitchen wasn’t done. The proposal for the library renovations was complete, but the renovations themselves and any adjustments that should be made would wait for the incoming permanent hire. And there was Cody, the very definition of an unfinished project. She’d say her good-byes when she got back from San Diego, but somehow it didn’t sit right with her, to leave people and work she’d grown to care for.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. How did Freddie do this every few months, commit to a location, to a group of people, learn about their histories and needs, their dreams and ambitions thoroughly enough to make effective recommendations, then move on?
Maybe Freddie’s brain was in one place and her heart in another. Chicago, with Alana and Mother and the Senator, and now wherever Toby and the band were. Freddie compartmentalized more effectively. One task accomplished, she moved on to the next, while Alana’s brain wandered down rose-strewn paths or academic detours, seeking, seeking, always seeking. Freddie was at home in herself wherever she was, while Alana never quite fit in anywhere but in the stacks of a library.
She stepped outside into the bright spring sunshine that now threatened more than promised heat. The rosebushes lining the driveway positively oozed sap and longing. She crouched and examined the stalks rigidly seeking the light, then tucked a few into the trellis. They bent fairly easily now, but in a few weeks training them would be much harder. Would the next tenant take the time? Would Lucas?
Lucas’s truck pulled into the driveway. He’d left the department’s Blazer at the station in case it was needed while he was gone, and was driving a green F-150 crew cab. She smiled up at him, then straightened to standing.
“We need to . . .” His voice trailed off.
“We need to what?”
He lifted one hand to her cheek. “I forget what I’m going to say around you,” he said quietly. “You look amazing.”
“I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt,” she said.
“And that jacket. I like that jacket.”
It was a gift from Freddie—purchased at a boutique in Paris after the fashion shows—who had insisted the dark caramel color was perfect for Alana’s coloring. “Not a cliché?”
“You’re anything but a cliché,” he said, and bent his head.
“Should you kiss me here?”
“No,” he murmured, and did it anyway. Quick and light and sweet, his long fingers gently holding her jaw like he was afraid she’d get away. “Made you blush.”
“You always do.”
He reached into the kitchen, snagged her case, and set it in the backseat. Alana climbed inside and surreptitiously brushed her fingers over her lips. Five minutes later they pulled into Adam’s mother’s driveway. Alana climbed out to give Darla Collins the front seat for the drive to Huron.
“My suitcase can go in the truck bed,” she said. “I’ll take the backseat with this.”
She reached inside and removed a white dress sheathed in two layers of clear plastic, carefully knotted at the bottom.
“What’s that?” Alana asked.
“Marissa’s wedding dress,” Darla said.
Her eyes widened, and she jumped forward to help Darla and the dress get arranged in the truck’s backseat. Lucas locked up for her. She twisted in her seat, trying to get details about the dress. Silk, obviously, and she could see soft folds. Not a Cinderella ball gown. “Did you do the design?”
“It’s based on a Romona Keveza dress, but I worked out the pattern based on Marissa’s measurements. The ruching gave me fits.”
Alana gave up trying to ascertain details through two layers of thick plastic and looked at Darla’s clothes instead. The woman wore a silk camisole, a tailored jacket with elements of vintage Chanel made modern, and slacks. “Did you make your outfit?”
“I did,” she said.
“That’s gorgeous. Last year’s New York show, right? I was there.”
“You were?” Darla’s face lit up.
Freddie and Toby had front row seats to all of the major shows. Alana had made sure Freddie had what she needed, then had met up with a schoolmate to get a tour of the New York Public Library’s research division on Fifth Avenue. “In a manner of speaking,” she said.
She knew enough to keep the conversation going all the way to the Huron Regional Airport. When they pulled into the parking lot, one regional jet sat at the terminal, waiting for the incoming flight from Denver. Lucas parked his truck at the back of the lot. Darla carried the dress, Alana managed her suitcase and purse, while Lucas gathered both his and Darla’s cases in one hand.
“Everyone got everything?”
They set off across the lot, through the building, and out the back again, where a small jet waited on the tarmac. A shorter, stouter man in a pilot’s uniform chatted idly with a taller man dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. When he saw them, he ended the conversation and lifted his hand in greeting. Alana’s heart sank as he strode toward them.
Lucas was out in front, whether because his legs were longer or because he automatically shifted his body between a possible threat and two women and a wedding dress. Being several feet back with Darla and the dress meant she couldn’t whisper anything to Nate, asking him not to say anything about . . . anything.
“Lucas Ridgeway? Nate Martin.”
The two men shook hands, then Nate turned to Alana and did a classic double take. “Hey, I know you.”
“Hello, Nate,” she said, and turned her cheek for his automatic kiss. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Good. It’s all good. You? What are you doing here? Last I heard, you and Freddie were headed to India and Pakistan.”
She could have fallen at his feet with gratitude. Nate surely knew about the debacle with David and had the wit not to bring it up. “Slight change in plans,” she said with a smile. “Freddie went. She’s in Chile now. No, I’m wrong. She’s in Brazil, with Toby. What are you doing here?”
He laughed. “I’m your ride to San Diego.”
“Wait,” Alana said, putting the pieces together. “Marissa said Adam’s lieutenant was picking us up.
You
were Adam’s commanding officer in Afghanistan?”
“Two tours,” Nate confirmed, his smile flashing on. “Small world.”
“Well, then, you’ll be pleased to meet Adam’s mother, Darla Collins.”
Without seeming to move, Nate straightened his shoulders and spine. “Mrs. Collins, it’s an honor to meet you. Your son is one of the finest Marines I’ve ever served with, and a good man.”
“Thank you,” she said, clearly touched by his heartfelt words. “He’s spoken very highly of you.”
“I’ll tell you stories once we get airborne,” he said with a smile. “Is that the dress?”
“This is the dress,” she confirmed.
“Let’s get that stowed.”
The pilot took the cases from Lucas and they made their way into the jet. Darla carefully placed the dress in the hanging bag locker. Alana settled into a seat by the window and buckled up. Lucas eased into the seat next to her.
“You know him?”
“Oh, yes,” she said as she powered down her phone, laptop, and other electronics. “Let’s see. His mother and my mother served on several of the same boards, and his father was a big contributor to the Senator’s reelection campaigns. He went to the University of Chicago’s Lab School while Freddie and I were at Miss Porter’s, then I was at Bryn Mawr while he was at Brown, then he went through Officer Candidate School and joined the Marine Corps. So other than a few social events we’ve lost touch.”
“This is his plane.”
She smiled. “You’re familiar with Ayrshire Warwick Incorporated?” At his nod, she continued. “That’s his family’s business.”
Lucas’s brows lifted. “What exactly are you doing in Walkers Ford?”
The plane taxied down the tarmac to the runway. “Working as a contract librarian,” she said lightly.
“Why?”
“I needed a break,” she reminded him.
He thought about this for a moment. “A person with your connections would have access to houses all over the world. You could do anything, go anywhere. But you decided to come to a tiny town on the eastern edge of nothing and redesign a library.”
“You sound like my mother,” she said.
“Not what I usually want to hear from the woman I’m sleeping with, but I’ll take it for now.”
The pilot announced takeoff. Nate buckled himself into a seat next to Darla, and for a few minutes the only sound in the cabin was the pilot’s voice, describing their route to San Diego and dinging off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. Nate took over his role as host and got everyone drinks and snacks. After carrying a blanket and pillow to the back row, he settled in across from Alana.
“Hi again, stranger,” he said with a smile.
She smiled back, enjoying the company of someone she could relax with.
“Mrs. Collins was up until three finishing the dress, so she’s going to take a nap,” Nate continued, then studied Lucas for a quick second. “Where did you serve?”
Lucas gave him a half smile. “Aurora, Five Points, and Federal Boulevard in Denver. I was a cop in Denver for ten years, and spent six of those on the DEA task force.”
“Lucas is chief of police for Walkers Ford,” Alana said.
“Your hometown?” Nate said.
“My parents are from there. I grew up in Denver, but spent summers in South Dakota with my grandparents. My parents are musicians, and they toured during the summer. A tour was no place for a young child, they said, and my grandparents agreed.”
Nate laughed. “What about as a teenager?”
“No way would they let me come. Besides, by then I wanted to go back to Walkers Ford. It’s home.”
Alana broke off a section of blueberry muffin. “So when Adam took Marissa sailing in Chicago, it was on . . . no, don’t tell me . . . it’s in there somewhere . . . the
Resolute
?”
Nate laughed. “Nice memory. The last time you were out on her, we were both still in braces.”
“It was a beautiful day,” Alana said. “And a beautiful boat. She’s a Herreshoff yacht, right?”
“Built in the 1920s, overhauled in the ’70s, overhauled again when I got home a year ago.” He looked at Lucas. “I’m guessing you didn’t do much sailing in Denver.”
“Hiking, mountain biking, and rock climbing,” Lucas said.
Nate’s eyes lit up. “Climbed any of the big peaks?”
“All of them. You?”
Nate shook his head. “If I had leave overseas, I found a boat with a sail.”
“So what happened when they came to visit?” Alana asked.
“I took them sailing,” Nate said. “Nice day, steady breeze, we beat one of my least favorite people ever in a race with Marissa at the helm, which made the victory all the sweeter. Had some lunch. Got sunburned. I dropped them off at the club, and they left. What was that all about, anyway? Adam called and asked if I could recommend a place for day lessons in Chicago. I could tell this wasn’t just any person, so I volunteered the
Resolute
.”
Alana laughed, a trill of delight Lucas hadn’t heard from her. “So instead of Marissa spending the day tacking around the beaches on a rowboat with a mast, she spent the day sailing a Herreshoff yacht?”
“It was the most use I’d been to anyone in months,” Nate said with a shrug. “She was a natural. Lots of reading, not too self-conscious to ask questions and put the answers into practice. What did you know about her interest in sailing?”
“I was her enabler, or maybe her dealer. When I got to Walkers Ford, she asked me to order books through the interlibrary loan for her. All of them were about sailing. She was very quiet about it. Adam took it from there.”
“And now they’re back in San Diego after six months cruising around the Pacific, about to get married.”
Both men got a little quiet then. She had a quick glance at Nate’s left hand. Bare. She tried to remember if her mother had mentioned a divorce or even a separation, and came up blank. Freddie wouldn’t have bothered to pass on the gossip, even if she knew. But Nate left her relationship status alone, so she didn’t bring up his marriage.