Taking on Twins (5 page)

“Hot dogs!” the boys shouted with glee and in record time were ready for lunch on the town—or at least at the restaurant next door—with Mom.

 

Over the glass entrance doors of the Mi-T-Fine Caféin Keyhole, Wyoming, an electronic chime announced Wyatt's arrival. The restaurant was doing a healthy business and no one in particular looked up to see who'd come in. From inside the kitchen a wonderfully familiar female voice called, “Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute.”

It was Emily. She sounded safe and healthy, anyway. That was a good sign. Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief.

“Take your time. I'm in no hurry,” he called and wandered to an empty booth in the front of the restaurant near a bank of windows that overlooked the quaint main street.

Keyhole was a Mecca for tourists on their way to or from Yellowstone National Park. Nestled in a lush valley, surrounded by spectacular, majestic mountains, the little town ingeniously mixed the new and the old to create a trendy,
upbeat feel. Keyhole was known to antique hunters all over the country for its delightful painted lady Victorians, western facade buildings and the historic treasures they held within.

Skiers—both water and snow—hikers, climbers, wind-surfers, hunters and fishermen enjoyed the sports offered by the great outdoors. All around the perimeter of town, hotels were popping up as Keyhole became a mini-Aspen. It wasn't unusual to see celebrities shopping or skiing in Keyhole anymore. Luckily, growth was relatively slow and Keyhole had managed to maintain its small-town flavor.

Wyatt could see why Annie loved this town. Like Prosperino, it was a bit of heaven on earth.

He plucked a menu from between the sugar container and the salt-and-pepper shakers and studied the special that was clipped to the cover.

 

At the other side of the café, Annie shushed her rowdy boys and, cocking her head, listened for the mellow baritone again, to no avail.

“No,” she whispered. “Couldn't be.” Craning her head, she searched the aisle and tried to peer over the high-backed booths and the partitions that blocked her view of the front of the room.

That voice.

Just the sound of it unleashed a plethora of emotion within her, both good and bad. Annie shrugged off the crazy notion as her boys distracted her, wrestling over crayons. Must be someone who sounded incredibly like him, she thought and rubbed the gooseflesh that had risen on her arms.

“Alex, eat the bun too.”

“But I'm saving it for Chopper.”

Annie threw her hands up. Where Chopper was con
cerned it was impossible to reason with her boys. “Fine. But don't put it in your shirt pocket. You're getting mustard everywhere.”

“Okay.” Alex removed the mustard-slathered bread and slapped it into her hand. “Here. Could you put this in your purse?”

Annie exhaled mightily and searched the ceiling for patience. Her crisp white blouse now sported yellow polka-dots in various shapes and sizes. Dabbing at them with a napkin only made them worse.

 

From inside the kitchen, Emily recognized the familiar voice and openmouthed, flew to the pickup window and craned her neck to catch a glimpse.
Wyatt!
After seven solid months on the lam, to finally see a member of her family was overwhelming. She blinked back the tears of joy. Help had arrived at last and now, perhaps, someone might just take her seriously.

Reaching behind her, she untied her apron and waved at Roy who was busy over the sizzling grill. Helen was making coffee and Geraldine was out on the floor. They'd be fine without her for a few minutes. “I'm taking a break,” she called and they nodded.

Emily rushed through the restaurant as old fashioned as its name implied. The walls were a rough plank and overhead, shelves were loaded with historic knickknacks and plants. In the background, some easy listening was piped in through speakers in the ceiling. The murmur of voices ebbed and flowed, and underscoring it all, silverware clanked and the grill sizzled.

Wyatt glanced up at the sound of her approach. “Emily!” He held out his hand and pulled her into the booth beside him and gave her temple a sound kissing. Eyes thirsty, he drank in the sight of her, checking her over until
he was satisfied that she was all right. He reached up, touching her shock of chestnut-red hair and was once again reminded of his Annie.

Emily plucked a napkin from the chrome dispenser on the table and crushed it to her mouth. “How did you find me?”

“Rand and Austin tracked you down.”

“I would have called, but it's not safe.”

“I know.”

“You do?” She pushed her napkin to her eyes and cast him a watery smile. “You believe me?”

“We all do.”

“Oh,” she blubbered. “Finally.”

“Better late than never?”

“Oh, yeah.” Smile tremulous, she turned her back to the aisle. Facing him, she leaned on her elbow to create some privacy. “I don't have much time. This is the middle of the Saturday lunch rush and it can get a little hairy here.”

“That's fine,” Wyatt said with a nod. “We can talk later. I plan on staying for several days—”

“Really?” Emily heaved a ragged sigh. “I've been starved for news of home.”

“Well, I'm loaded with that, and more.” He tapped the envelope that lay in front of him on the table, then slid it over to rest in front of her.

Emily stared. “What's this?”

“The news you've been waiting for. It'll make some interesting nighttime reading, that I can guarantee.”

“It's about Mom?”

“And her identical twin sister. A woman named Patsy Portman.”

“A twin. I knew it,” she murmured.

“We're guessing that you were right all along about Patsy taking Meredith's place.”

“It happened the day of the accident. I just know it. Remember when Mom went off the road and wrecked the car?”

“Emily, do you have any idea what may have happened to Meredith?”

“I can't remember,” she whispered. “It happened so fast, and it's years ago now. I was crying and confused. My head hurt and Mom's head was bleeding so much. I think I passed out. What I do remember is seeing another woman there who looked exactly like Mom. Then, I don't remember anything until she brought me into the emergency room. I couldn't figure out why she wasn't bleeding anymore…”

Wyatt slowly nodded. “Meredith must have disappeared between the accident and the emergency room, while you were unconscious.”

Snatching another napkin from the dispenser, Emily scrubbed at her nose. “Mmm. That's what I've always suspected. But no one believed me until now.”

“We believe you, honey. We're on your side and we're here to help you.”

“What about Mom?”

Wyatt slipped an arm around her shoulders and brought the top of her head to his neck. “We're working on that. Austin's on her trail, as we speak.” He tried to inject a note of confidence into his voice. “What exactly happened the night you left?”

In a halting voice, Emily spoke. “Someone tried to kill me. And, he nearly succeeded.”

W
yatt drew a long, slow breath. Hearing the brutal truth had the bile rising into his throat. “I could use some fresh air. How about you?”

Emily peeked up at the counter. Geraldine and Helen were still busy with customers and no one new had come in since she'd sat down. “Yes. I think that would be okay. If we don't stay long.” She tucked into her apron pocket the envelope that Wyatt had brought, then waved her hand at the counter. “Geraldine?”

“Yes, honey?” Geraldine took in the tear streaks on Emily's cheeks and frowned at Wyatt.

“I'm just gonna take a quick break. You guys okay without me?”

Geraldine glanced around, then returned her suspicious gaze to Wyatt. “For a few minutes, sure.”

“I'll have her back pronto,” Wyatt assured her. “Don't worry, she's in good hands.”

Geraldine looked skeptical.

The doorbell chimed again as Wyatt held the door for Emily.

“Noah! Alex!” Annie strained to hear above the hubbub of her children's voices. “Pipe down for just a second, will you?”

“Why?” Alex asked.

“Because I'm trying to hear something,” Annie snapped, flapping her hands and making lip-zipping motions.

Noah found her wild gesticulations most amusing and howled with laughter.

“Whater ya trying to hear?” Alex pressed.

Annie pressed her nose to the window and tried to see around front.

Noah tapped her arm. “Whatcha see?”

Her exasperated sigh fogged the pane of glass. “Nothing.”

 

Wyatt took Emily's hand and led her to a bench on the wooden sidewalk just outside Summer's Autumn Antiques. He pulled her down beside him and once again, slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“Someone tried to kill you.”

Emily's head bobbed beneath his chin.

Sick at heart, Wyatt pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know it's probably pretty hard to talk about, but the more you can tell me, the more we can help.”

Emily glanced around. When she was satisfied that no one was listening, she continued. “I was on my way to bed when I noticed that my bedroom door was nearly closed. You remember how Dad would never let us kids close our doors until we were in bed? Even so, normally, I'd have just thought Inez made a mistake, but because of what had
just happened at Dad's birthday party a few months earlier I was still a little wary.”

“Mmm.”

Wyatt knew all about the attempt on Joe's life. That night, Rand had called from the party, shaken.
“Dad made a speech. There was a lot of confusion,”
Rand had told him.
“Balloons, confetti, sixty white doves flying everywhere. Then, Dad lifted his glass, and there was a shot. His glass shattered…I was stunned. We all were. Then people started to scream. At first we thought…we thought he might be dead, but thank God, the bullet only grazed his cheek. Nobody else was hurt. Dad grabbed Mom's hand and pulled her to the ground for cover…”
That night, Rand's emotion-packed words had Wyatt's skin crawling. Just as it was now. It was ironic, Wyatt mused, how Joe may have saved the life of the very person who wanted him dead.

Emily's shaky voice brought him back to the present. “I tiptoed in my room and before I saw him I knew I was not alone. Someone was there with me and I was scared, thinking that whoever it was had come back for Dad.”

From his hip pocket, Wyatt retrieved a handkerchief and, tipping her chin, dabbed at the tears that ran down her cheeks. Several passersby cast her a curious look.

“Wait until you're ready, sweetheart,” Wyatt said. “In fact, if this is too painful, you can tell me another time.”

“No!” Emily gave her head a vehement shake. “I've been waiting to talk about this for months now. I want to tell you. It's just…hard.”

“I know.”

“Anyway once my eyes adjusted, I could see a man—a stranger—hiding behind the drapes, near the bed. And, Wyatt, he had a knife.”

Emily looked up at Wyatt and he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“I thought I was going to faint, but somehow I managed to stumble down the stairs and out the front door. He—” Emily swallowed “—he followed me.” Wyatt closed his eyes. “What'd you do?”

“Kept running until I remembered the alcove where Liza and I would play when we were kids. The entrance is easy to miss if you don't know it's there.”

Wyatt was filled with brotherly admiration. “Wow. Quick thinking saved your life.”

“It was instinct. Oh, Wyatt, I've never been so scared in my life. I hid in the alcove until sun up. All I could think to do was hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.

“After a while, this really nice older trucker picked me up and told me he was headed to Wyoming. Wyatt, it seemed like a sign. Dad had been harbored here, back when he was a little boy and the McGraths fostered him. So, I climbed into his truck, and here I am.”

Wyatt gestured down the street. “The McGrath farm where Dad grew up in Nettle Creek is only a few miles from here.”

Emily's smile was wan. “I know.”

“Are you okay now?”

“I still have all kinds of bad dreams. And I'm not using Blair as my last name anymore. Everyone here knows me as Emma Logan.” She blinked up at Wyatt. “But I think I'm pretty safe here.”

“Let's keep it that way, okay, Emily…Logan?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I'd better get you back to work now. But listen. I'm staying across the street at that little hotel,” he pointed to The Faded Rose, a quaint, pale yellow building with flower baskets adorning the porch. “Room 102. You call me if
you need anything, okay?” Standing, Wyatt pulled her to her feet.

“I will.” She slipped an arm around his waist as they walked back to the grill. “Wyatt, I can't tell you how glad I am to have you here.”

“I'm glad, too.”

He held the door open for her and Geraldine, noting Emily's blotchy, tear-stained complexion and red-rimmed eyes, scowled.

“Geraldine, I'll be back on the floor in five.”

“I'm here, honey. Don't you worry about a thing.”

“I don't think Geraldine likes me,” Wyatt murmured.

“She'll come around.” Emily moved to the other side of the counter, poured him a cup of coffee and motioned for him to take one of the empty stools. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Yeah, come to think of it, I'm starved. The special will be fine. And, Em, before you go, listen. I know it's going to be hard, but you are going to have to continue to lay low until Austin and Rand have enough solid evidence against Patsy to bring to the police.”

“Poor thing. Something awful must have happened to make her this way.”

Wyatt's admiration for his kid sister jumped up yet another notch. Trust Emily to have compassion for the woman who tried to end her life. Again, she reminded him of Annie. “Oh, and one last thing. I know Keyhole is a growing town, but I just wondered if you've ever met a woman named Annie Summers. I heard from Rand that she kept her maiden name when she married. Anyway, he says she owns an antique store in the area.”

Emily nodded. “Of course I know Annie.”

“You…do?” Wyatt felt his stomach clench.

“Sure. Keyhole's not that big. She owns Summer's Au
tumn Antiques, next door. I used to help out there on my days off. Annie and I are friends. In fact, that's her over there.” Emily pointed to the other side of the restaurant. “She comes in for lunch with her twin boys, Noah and Alex, pretty much every Saturday.”

Wyatt felt a bolt of lightning blast through him the likes of which he'd not experienced since that Valentine's kiss, so many years ago. Slowly, his gaze followed the direction Emily pointed and, for the first time in years, settled on the wonderful face of Annie Summers. Luckily, she was too busy to notice him and he took the time to look her over.

She hadn't changed a bit.

She was neither graying, nor age-spotted, nor knock-kneed, or even snaggle-toothed, the way he'd hoped. No, she was still the smooth-skinned, fiery-haired young woman that he'd fallen in love with back in college. In fact, if possible, she was even more attractive than before. Motherhood definitely seemed to agree with her. Even though she had two kids now, she was still as trim as ever. Her facial features had lost their girlishness and were now more angular and womanly, highlighting the enormity of her eyes and the fullness of her lips.

Unnoticed, he watched as she interacted with the two frolicking puppies that were so obviously her sons. Her kids had creased a permanent smile into the corners of her eyes and mouth and she looked content in her new life. More than content. Happy.

A cloud of self-doubt rolled in and settled over his heart. Surely, she wasn't pining away for him, the way he had been for her. Just by looking at her, he could guess that meeting up with the unresolved past and all the emotions that went with it was not on her agenda for today.

He watched as she dipped a napkin into her water glass and mopped the mustard from her boys' freckled faces.
They resisted her ministrations in a typical reaction for their age. One of them picked up a napkin and dabbed at something on her face, causing her laughter to ring out.

Wyatt closed his eyes and struggled to inhale. The sound of her laughter caused such an explosive reaction in his body, he could barely breathe. For him, nothing had changed. The past seven years evaporated like a puddle on a midsummer's day and he was vexed to discover that he was as fiercely in love with her this minute, as he'd been the day she said goodbye.

Clenching the countertop, he watched her gather her things and herd the boys to the cash register, only two dozen feet away, to pay her bill. Dressed more sophisticatedly than the simple jeans of their college days, she wore a pair of khaki slacks and a white blouse. Her wonderful hair was swept into a knot at the top of her head, but curly wisps escaped, still defying her attempts to tame them.

After she'd signed her credit receipt, she called her boys and with a
bing-bong,
was gone.

“Where is she going?” Wyatt wondered aloud.

“Back to work, right next door. The place we were sitting in front of, a minute ago. She works there till five on Saturdays.”

Distracted, Wyatt scooted off his stool and stood. He bent to press his lips against Emily's temple.

“How do you know Annie?” Emily asked.

“You too,” Wyatt answered and laid some cash on the counter.

“Me too, what?”

“You'll call me tonight, right?”

“Okay, sure, but—” Emily watched him go, a puzzled frown marring her brow. “Uh, wait a minute. Where are you going? What about your lunch?”

“Thanks, Em,” he called and was gone.

 

What on earth was that all about? Emily leaned over the counter and watched Wyatt stride past the window after Annie Summers. She pulled her pencil from her bun and thoughtfully scratched her head with the eraser tip. He'd had the strangest look on his face when he'd looked at Annie. It was almost as if they'd known each other. But Wyatt had never lived in Wyoming, so that couldn't be it.

Her thoughts were distracted by the front door's bell.

Lean and lanky, Toby Atkins, Keyhole's resident law officer, pushed through the glass door, his gaze searching for, and immediately landing on, Emily. His boyishly handsome face lit up at the sight of her, and Emily returned his smile.

She moved behind the counter to pour him his usual cup of coffee. “Pie?” she asked, as he straddled a stool on the other side of the counter. “We've got your favorite. Lemon meringue.”

“How can I say no?” Toby's fond gaze followed her as she cut his pie and found him a fork.

“So,” Emily asked, as she set his plate before him, “what's new, Toby?”

“Nothing much. I did want to mention to you that there have been some reports of petty thievery in the Nettle Creek area. So, I thought I'd swing past your place several times each night on my nightly rounds for while. Thought it might be a good idea, all things considered, but I didn't want you to worry if you saw me.”

“I don't worry when you're on the job, Toby,” she said gently, and meant it.

His fair features flushed a charming shade of red.

Emily knew that Toby believed he was falling for her. It was evident in his smile, the way his gaze followed her as she worked, the interest he'd taken in her.

Even now, she could feel his deep blue gaze protectively
following her every move. Emily caught his eye and they exchanged an awkward, bashful moment. He was such a darling. And she was exceedingly relieved and grateful that he was taking such care with her safety.

But that was all. When it came to returning his feelings, Emily wished she could. Toby was a good man. One of the best. Her smile grew melancholy. Unfortunately, she was simply not in love with him.

 

Annie Summers felt the tips of her ears grow fiery hot and a tingle spread from the base of her spine throughout her entire body. Light-headed, she took several steps backward until she bumped into the ornately carved arm of a settee, which she grabbed onto to keep from slumping to the ground.

The man who stood silhouetted in the door looked exactly like Wyatt Russell, but the shadows that fell across his familiar face made it impossible to tell for sure.

No, she assured herself. It couldn't be. Wyatt here in Keyhole? Impossible. He was in Washington D.C., making a name for himself as a hotshot lawyer. He had no business here in Wyoming. It had to be her imagination playing tricks on her. She simply had Wyatt on the brain because she thought she'd heard his voice in the restaurant.

Marshaling her powers of concentration, she donned her most professional smile, smoothed her wacky hairdo and forced herself to move to the front door.

“Hi. May I help you?”