Sweet Talk

He did. When a bag boy—Joe Harte, who was juggling high school classes and his job, trying to save money for college—pushed a cart with five stuffed bags of food into his office about fifteen minutes later, Reed had a slip of paper ready. “Hi, Joe. You have a car, don’t you?” he asked the young man.

“I have a pickup.”

“That’ll do. I’d like this order delivered to this address.” He handed over the piece of paper. “Tell the supervisor you’re doing me a favor so you don’t get hassled about your absence, all right?”

“I’ll take care of it, Mr. Kingsley.” Joe left with the cart, heading for the elevator. Reed left, too, but he used the stairs, as he usually did.

Once in his vehicle he drove to town and straight to Jilly’s Lilies. Jilly, the owner and his cousin Jeff’s wife, wasn’t in, but her teenaged assistant, Blake Cameron was there. After a hello and how are you, Reed ordered flowers and wrote a message on a card, which he put in an envelope. Blake promised delivery within two hours, and Reed left.

His day was ruined, and he neither returned to MonMart nor stopped at the volunteer fire station. Instead he drove home, went inside, threw himself on the couch, stared at the vaulted ceiling overhead and tortured himself with the memory of Val saying that she wished there was a way to hate him more than she already did.

The day that had started out so great had turned sour—horrible, actually—and he wasn’t completely sure it was his fault. After all, he’d only tried to help. It was his nature to help anyone in need. Didn’t Val know him at all?

Val had fought flooded eyes and blurred vision all the way home. She was so upset that her whole body trembled. This had to have been the most humiliating experience of her life, or at least the most humiliating since her move to Montana. But strangely enough, when she finally pulled into her driveway, she wasn’t just angry with Reed Kingsley, the sophomoric jerk, she was furious with herself. Why had she said such terrible things to him? She never lost her temper, and she didn’t tell people she hated them just because they annoyed the hell out of her.

She turned off the engine and sat there staring into space while her stomach churned and her hands shook. Rumor was her home. Her business was here and there was no place else she wanted to live. But this was Reed Kingsley’s home, too, and Rumor was too small a town to completely avoid someone, especially if that person was hot on her trail, as he seemed to be. The man’s tenacity was amazing. She had never given him an ounce of encouragement, yet he kept showing up and making her notice him. Why, for God’s sake?

Groaning, Val opened the door of her SUV and got out. Estelle came outside and walked toward her. “I’ll help carry in the groceries,” she called.

Val’s spirits dropped another notch. “There aren’t any.”

Estelle had gotten close enough to see her face clearly. “Oh, my God, you’re pale as a sheet. What happened? Did you have a bad spell in the store? Well, don’t worry about the groceries. I’ll send Jim shopping later on.”

Was she really pale? Val frowned and brought her trembling hands to her face, as though she could detect the color of her skin with her fingertips.

“And you’re shaking like a leaf,” Estelle exclaimed. She took Val by the arm. “You are going straight to bed, my friend. Obviously you need to rest a bit.”

Val rarely argued with Estelle when it came to matters of health. The woman was a trained nurse working in the field all her life until retirement a few years back. She adhered to the common-sense school of medical treatment, and bed rest was high on her list of preferred remedies.

Besides, hiding in bed for the rest of this unnerving day held a massive amount of appeal for Val. She let herself be led along to her bedroom, and obediently undressed when Estelle asked if she wanted pajamas or a nightgown.

“Pajamas.”

Estelle went into the bathroom and returned with a thermometer, which she stuck in Val’s mouth, and a blood-pressure cuff she placed around her upper arm. Val sat quietly for the procedures, wishing that Jinni was back from her honeymoon. Her sister would know what to say about that debasing incident—probably something funny that would make Val feel like laughing instead of crying.

Estelle said, “Your blood pressure is fine.” She took the thermometer. “So is your temperature.”

“I only had one of those weak spells,” Val said. “I’m not ill, Estelle.”

“Well, I still think a little nap is in order.”

“I doubt if I’ll do any sleeping.” But she was getting into her pajamas, and her big, comfortable bed looked very inviting. Estelle folded back the bedding and Val obligingly climbed in.

“Do you still have that grocery list?” Estelle asked.

Val slid her gaze to the right, to the window, just to avoid meeting Estelle’s sharp eyes. She would hear about the incident—it was highly unlikely that anyone living within a twenty-mile radius of town would miss hearing about it—but Val couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. Not yet, at any rate. It was still too new, too painful to think about, let alone attempt to explain why she had left her groceries in one of MonMart’s busy aisles.

“It’s in the pocket of my jeans…I believe,” she murmured.

Estelle picked up the jeans from the chair Val had laid them on and dug into the pockets. “Here it is. Good. I’ll have Jim go to MonMart later on.” She went over to the window and shut the blinds, which darkened the room considerably. “You rest for at least an hour, hon,” she told Val. “Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Estelle.”

“You’re very welcome.” The front doorbell chimed. “Now who can that be?” Estelle exclaimed as she hurried from the room.

Val’s heart sank. If Reed Kingsley had dared to ring her doorbell, she was going to get out of this bed and—and… Well, she wasn’t sure what she would do, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. She sat up and listened intently, heard voices and movement in the house, but nothing she could pick up was distinct enough to enlighten her nervous curiosity. If it was Reed at her door, she thought with a sickish sensation in her stomach, she would probably do no more than yank the covers over her head and play dead. He wouldn’t really have the gall, would he?

Estelle finally returned and she was wearing a huge, excited smile. “Well, I never,” she began. “That was one of MonMart’s bag boys, Joe Harte, with all of your groceries. Doesn’t that beat all? He said that Mr. Kingsley asked him to deliver the food right away. It’s all in the kitchen. I have to get busy putting it away.”

Val was so dumbfounded she couldn’t even mumble a reply. After Estelle’s hasty departure Val’s mind went into overdrive, and she yelled, “What about payment?”

Estelle didn’t hear her, and Val lay back on the pillows and said again, this time at normal pitch and with an agonized ache throughout her entire system, “What about payment?”

It didn’t take very much thought to figure out how those groceries had gotten from a cart in MonMart’s canned goods aisle to her front door. She groaned, turned to her side, reached for some tissues from the box on her nightstand and let the tears flow. She knew—she knew, that she could beg Reed Kingsley from now until doomsday to tell her the total cost of that food so she could write a check for it, and he wouldn’t do it.

“Damn that man,” she whispered. She didn’t need his charity, and she didn’t want his friendship, even though she doubted that friendship was the only thing on his mind. She was thirty-five years old and saw a worn-out, used-up human being every time she looked in a mirror. She used to be vivacious and pretty, very much like Jinni still was, but these days she was barely a shadow of her former self. Why on earth would a vibrant, handsome, wealthy man—a Kingsley, no less—notice her, let alone do his ever-loving best to get her to notice him?

Chapter Three

Val dried her eyes, got out of bed with an angry flounce, yanked on her clothes and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Hiding in bed, even at Estelle’s advice, was cowardly and disgusting. She was fine and she had a business to run. People would talk about the MonMart incident until something better came along, and there was nothing she could do about it, so she might as well hold her head high and pretend not to notice.

She dabbed on a little lipstick, then, because her face really was pale, brushed some blusher on her cheeks. Her light brown hair was short, about jaw-length, and nicely cut. At least she liked the cut; whether anyone else did wasn’t something she worried about, although when she’d come home from The Getaway with the new style Estelle had complimented her on it.

It really didn’t matter. Val felt fortunate that her chemo treatments hadn’t taken her hair. It was still thick and glossy and now it was short and swingy and, Val thought, quite becoming.

She grimaced at her reflection. Her hairdo, or any other woman’s, would never make the Life’s Significant Priorities list. She’d learned what was important and what wasn’t the hard way, and hairstyles were absolutely meaningless in the overall scheme of things.

Val was on her way to the kitchen to let Estelle know that she was feeling good and going over to the clinic when the doorbell chimed again.

She blinked in disbelief. Standing on her stoop was Reed Kingsley with a huge bouquet of flowers and an almost tragic, puppy dog expression on his face.

“Valerie,” he said as he released a long breath, which, apparently, he’d been holding. “I ordered these at Jilly’s to be delivered as soon as possible, drove home, worried myself sick over what happened at MonMart, then rushed back to town to deliver them myself.” He held out the bouquet. “Will you accept these flowers and my heartfelt apology?”

She looked at the flowers, at Reed, at the flowers, at Reed, then turned her face away and wished she had stayed in bed.

“Could I come in for a minute?” he asked, startling her further.

The man was a barnacle, she thought drearily. He had, for some reason of his own, attached himself to her, and she was never going to be free of him. It was a depressing thought, and if there was anything Val didn’t need these days, it was something else to lower her already down-in-the-dumps spirits.

But how could she say, “No, you cannot come in, and I don’t want either your flowers or your apology. Please leave and never darken my door again.” The bottom line was she couldn’t. Reed Kingsley might be the most annoying human being she knew but he was a man to reckon with in Rumor. He was one of the town’s movers and shakers, and she certainly didn’t need enemies in the business community—especially now. Business had slowed during her illness, with people taking their pets to Whitehorn or Billings because their local vet wasn’t available. Next on her to-do agenda was to rebuild her reputation and her client list by putting a back-to-work announcement in the Rumor Mill—and, whether or not she liked it, accepting Reed’s apologetic gesture.

She stepped back and swung the door open; it was silent permission to enter, and she hoped he didn’t take her concession as any form of surrender. She was giving him nothing but a minute or two of her time. She hoped he understood that without her spelling it out in succinct terms.

Reed’s heart pounded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about entering a woman’s home. He’d always been confident in his innate ability to talk to people, both men and women, and his lack of confidence with Val Fairchild was damn disturbing.

“Uh, maybe you’d like to take these,” he said after she had closed the door. She wouldn’t like to take them; she didn’t want them, but she forced herself to accept the bouquet and say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Val, I’d like to explain what happened today…explain why I did what I did.”

“You already did that. In MonMart’s parking lot.” She saw Estelle peering around the kitchen doorway and held out the flowers. “Estelle, would you please put these in a vase?”

Smiling broadly, the housekeeper walked over and took the flowers from Val. “Oh, they’re lovely. Hello, Reed, how are you?”

“Fine, Estelle, and you?”

“I really can’t complain.”

“And how’s Jim?”

“Well, he has that arthritis, you know. It flares up every so often, but he’s been just fine this fall. Hasn’t this weather been remarkable?”

“Remarkable and a little scary. We’ve experienced the result of a dry winter firsthand, and we sure don’t want a repeat of last summer’s fire.”

“Heavens, no,” Estelle agreed with a small shudder. “We nearly lost our town.”

“We came very close, Estelle.”

Val had to bite her tongue to keep from rudely interrupting this friendly little exchange. Of course Estelle knew Reed Kingsley—everyone knew Reed Kingsley! She was probably the only person within a hundred-mile radius who didn’t want to know him!

Estelle smiled and began easing away. “I’ll put these in water. Nice seeing you, Reed.”

“Nice seeing you, Estelle.” He waited until she was back in the kitchen before he looked at Val again. “They’re a great couple, aren’t they?” he said. “I’m talking about Estelle and Jim, of course.”

“I grasped that all on my own,” Val said dryly. “Imagine that.”

Reed’s face reddened. “I never quite say the right thing to you, do I?” He tried to smile and knew it came off weak. “I think you make me nervous.”

“I doubt if anyone makes you nervous, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Mr. Kingsley? Can’t you bring yourself to call me Reed?”

“Well, I can, of course, but since we hardly know each other…”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Meaning it’s mine? Well, fine. I can live with that.”

“I wasn’t placing blame. But you said we hardly know each other and that’s something I’ve been trying to rectify. We’re not getting very far, though, are we, not when you object to using my first name because we’re not bosom buddies. Val, very few people around here stand on ceremony. There’s very little formality in and around Rumor.” Reed felt his face heating up again. “You already know that, don’t you? You’ve lived here long enough to know everything I do.”

“I doubt if I could ever catch up with you on anything,” she said coolly, hoping he realized that the word anything, in this instance, was a blatant reference to his reputation with women. “Nor, I might add, do I care to try. But since small-town informality seems so crucial to you, I’ll use your first name.”

How long was he going to stand around her foyer with that hopeful look in his eyes? She hadn’t invited him into the living room, offered him a chair or refreshments. She hadn’t done any of the things folks in Rumor did when someone dropped in. Reed didn’t take hints, obviously, and she was trying to avoid overt rudeness, but she was getting very close to it, all the same.

He cleared his throat. “Getting back to that explanation I mentioned…”

“Really, there’s nothing that needs saying. You thought I required rescuing and I didn’t. It was an unfortunate incident. I’m sure we’ll both live it down…eventually.” Reed’s expression turned sickly before her eyes, but she pretended not to notice.

“You really can’t accept my apology, can you?” he said, sounding miserable.

“I could lie and say yes. Would that appease your conscience?” Inwardly she winced, as that remark and question had definitely been rude. But why didn’t he accept her lack of interest and leave?

Reed decided it was time to go. She was a hard, dispassionate woman, impossible to get to know. Why did he keep trying?

“Well, enjoy the flowers,” he said, speaking in a much cooler tone himself. “And you have my promise that if I ever see you looking pale and leaning against shelves of green beans again, I’ll walk right on past.”

Val’s eyes widened in surprise. That was the first thing he’d ever said to her that warranted respect. Apparently her disdain had finally sunk in.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and opened the door for him. He gave her one last look and then hurried out. She shut the door behind him, mumbled, “Finally,” and turned the dead bolt.

The snap of the lock was heard by both of them. It gave Val a sense of security and made Reed wince. He walked to his SUV with his head down.

Val went into the kitchen and tried to ignore the flowers Estelle was arranging in Val’s best crystal vase. “I’m going over to the clinic, Estelle,” she said.

“Okay, honey.” The housekeeper stepped back to study her handiwork. “Aren’t these just beautiful?”

“Lovely,” Val murmured, trying to sound as though she cared. “Estelle, I picked out a great prime rib at MonMart. Was it part of the delivery?” Her hand suddenly leaped to her lips. “Oh, hell,” she moaned. “Why didn’t I make that man tell me the cost of all that food? I never even thought of it.”

“That man’s name is Reed Kingsley,” Estelle said dryly.

“I know his name. But I wish I didn’t.”

Estelle’s eyes widened. “For heaven’s sake, why not? Everyone likes Reed.”

“Not everyone. Estelle, was that prime rib delivered?”

“Yes, it’s in the refrigerator. I was going to ask if you wanted it in the freezer.”

“I want it in the oven, if you don’t mind cooking it, that is. And I’d like you and Jim to stay for dinner and help me eat it.”

“Well, that would be nice. When you see Jim, ask him if he has other plans. I don’t, but you never know what’s on his mind.”

“And you don’t accept invitations without his say-so,” Val said quietly.

Estelle smiled. “Of course not.”

Val would never point out that Estelle often let Jim’s plans come before hers, because they were truly the happiest married couple she’d ever known, and it certainly wasn’t her place to point out what she considered to be a few small inequities in the relationship. She had wondered, since getting to know the Worths, how their marriage had survived for so long, when so many others did not. One thing she’d noticed repeatedly was that Estelle and Jim truly seemed to like each other. There were deeper affections between them—Val could sense that—but their liking was out in the open and pleasant to be around.

“I’ll talk to Jim about it and let you know.”

“Good.” Estelle returned to her flower arranging and picked up a perfect pink rose. “Oh, my, this is lovely. Honey, are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go over there today?” she asked with her back to Val.

“I’m sure. Talk to you later.”

“You take care now, you hear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Estelle was chuckling when Val left the kitchen and then the house.

Reed felt at such loose ends that none of his normal activities held any appeal. He didn’t want to return to MonMart and sit at a desk, he didn’t want to go home and walk the floor again, nor did he want to stop in at the fire station. That really threw him. He always derived personal satisfaction and enjoyment from checking equipment and chin-wagging with any of the volunteers who happened to be there. Not today.

After leaving Val’s home, he drove around town with a knot in his gut and tried to find some focus. All he could think about were her cutting remarks, the ice in her voice, the disdain in her beautiful aqua-blue eyes…all aimed at him. If he had fallen over dead in her foyer, she would have stepped around his lifeless body as though it weren’t there. He was nothing to her, less important than the dirt under her feet.

How could that be? He had never been anything but nice to her. Did she sense something sexual in his feelings for her, loathe the idea and want to make darn sure that she didn’t encourage it?

Trouble was, she encouraged feelings of that nature without realizing it. The chemistry between them was overwhelming and nearly swamped him every time he was within fifty feet of her, even though she obviously noticed none of it.

Reed ended up back at MonMart, but he didn’t go into the superstore. Instead, he headed for the unfinished park behind it and took a long meandering hike. It helped.

Val called the house from her office at the Animal Hospital. “Estelle, Jim said prime rib for dinner sounded great. We’re on, okay?”

“Great. We’ll eat around six. I’m going to make mashed potatoes and gravy. You need some fattening up.”

“I happen to like being thinner.”

“Your clothes are practically falling off. You either have to put on some weight or go shopping.”

“Maybe I’ll go shopping. See you later.”

Jim came in just as Val was hanging up. “Did you call the paper yet? You said to remind you.”

“All taken care of. The announcement will appear in tomorrow’s newspaper and continue for a week. I think a week should do it, don’t you?”

“It should,” Jim agreed.

Michael Cantrell walked into the sheriff’s office and up to the deputy on desk duty. “I want to see my uncle.”

“Again? Don’t you have better things to do than hang around a jailbird?”

“He’s not a jailbird. He’s innocent.”

“Invisible, too, huh?” Several of the deputies loved kidding Michael about Guy’s invisibility story. Guy had told the whole story at a community gathering held in MonMart’s parking lot just before his arrest for the murders of his wife and her boyfriend. Guy had explained how the fire had started on Logan’s Hill, and how he’d been knocked unconscious by his wife’s lover, only to realize when he came to that he was invisible. He’d been splashed with his formula for the rapid healing of burn scars. Invisibility was an unforeseeable, temporary side effect of the formula, and he’d been as stunned by it as the townspeople, considering they had stared at him with their mouths open.

Michael flushed hotly. “He’s not invisible now.” He added defensively, “But he was.”

“Yeah, me too. Helps keep the laundry down.”

“You’re not funny,” Michael mumbled, red-faced.

The deputy chuckled. “Sure I am.”

Sheriff Holt Tanner came in. “Hank, let the boy see his uncle!”

“I was just funnin’ him, Holt.”

“Well, stop funnin’ him and move Guy from his cell to the visitor’s room.”

The deputy walked off, still chuckling, and Michael nervously shifted from foot to foot while waiting for word that he could go back to the visitor’s room. When the deputy returned and escorted him there, Michael saw his uncle sitting on one side of a long table in handcuffs. He took a chair on the other side of the table and waited until the deputy left the room and locked the door.

Then he said, with tears in his eyes, “Hi, Unk. How you doing?” Unk was what he had called Guy since childhood, since realizing that his uncle was a brilliant scientist and so was he. Well, maybe not brilliant yet, but he would be. Someday.

Although Guy didn’t feel in the least like smiling, he smiled for his fifteen-year-old nephew, whom he loved like a son. “I don’t want you worrying about me, Michael.”

“I know, Unk.”

“But I really appreciate your visits,” Guy said quietly. He forced another smile. “Now, tell me what’s happening in Rumor. Have you heard from your dad and his new wife? When are they due back from their honeymoon? And how’s Ma taking all of this? You’re still staying with your grandmother, aren’t you? Until your dad gets home? Tell me everything, Michael.”

“Mostly people are talking about your formula, even though no one understands it,” Michael said.

“You know something, Michael? I don’t understand it, either.”

Dinner was delicious. Estelle was a good cook and the prime rib was roasted to tender, juicy perfection. The numerous side dishes were as tasty as food could be, and Val truly tried to do justice to the wonderful meal.

But after a few bites of the small portions she had taken, her appetite was fully satisfied. She took a swallow of the iced tea Estelle had also prepared.

“I made an applesauce cake for dessert,” Estelle said. “I know you like that.”