A Date With the Other Side (28 page)

He studied her. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you’ll work it out. You’re both nuts about each other.”

“Some things you can’t fix, and this is one of them. But my feelings for him don’t have anything to do with my saying no to you.” Shelby took his hand, stroked it. “You’re my first love, Danny Tucker, and that’s a special thing. I don’t regret one minute we spent together. But we can’t get married for the wrong reasons… because we both want kids and we’re comfortable together.”

“I think a lot of marriages have started on less.”

“That’s true. And we could have a good marriage. But I think we both deserve great. I think we should take a chance, risk it, that there’s someone out there for us both that we can fall madly in love with.” Of course, she already had, but that was beside the point. Maybe there was another man… who was she kidding? It was over for her. Time to start her cat collection and slowly grow into eccentric Miss Shelby. But this way, if she didn’t marry Danny, there was still hope that he could find true love and live happily ever after.

“Madly in love? I don’t picture me falling madly into anything. I’m not exactly a dramatic guy, Shel.” Danny gave a grin. “But no, I really do understand what you’re saying. And a month ago, I wouldn’t have agreed with you. But I don’t know, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time for me to date around a bit, enjoy myself. I’ve got plenty of years to have kids and I want to get married for keeps this time around.”

“It will be a lucky woman who gets you.” Shelby meant it. Danny was a good man, and she almost wished she could have loved him. Almost, because if she had, she’d have never fallen in love with Boston, and despite the pain in her chest and the ache in her abdomen, she couldn’t regret meeting him.

Danny gave her one of those bear hugs that lifted her off her feet and compromised her breathing. “Let’s hope she thinks so,” he said, bouncing her a little for good measure.

Shelby fell to the porch and checked her ribs for fractures. Gasping, she said, “Let’s hope she’s too big for you to pick up.”

He laughed. “So you going to keep on with the Haunted Cuttersville Tour then?”

“Actually, all the news exposure of the little incident last week already doubled my business this past weekend. What I really want to do is talk Gran into letting me use the White House as a bed-and-breakfast. I’d really enjoy running that, and I could have Brady do the actual legwork for the tours.”

“But Boston’s living in the White House still. I saw him just yesterday, having a beer with some of the Samson guys at Walt’s.”

While it didn’t exactly thrill her to hear that Boston was out socializing at the local bar and grill, she wasn’t surprised. Boston wasn’t a brooder. He was an action-oriented person.

But that didn’t mean she thought for one minute he liked the local scene enough to stick around longer than was absolutely necessary. He’d made that clear as crystal.

“Trust me, Danny, Boston Macnamara is leaving, sooner than later. I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves next week.”

Boston supposed he ought to be startled, but he couldn’t work up the energy. When he opened his front door and saw Brett Delmar watching him with raised eyebrows, he merely nodded.

“Brett. How good to see you. What brings you to Cuttersville?”

As if he couldn’t guess. He held open the door and gestured for Brett to step inside, which he did, his hand resting casually in his pants pocket, his blue button-up shirt neatly ironed.

“I wanted to check on the Cuttersville plant for myself,” Brett said with enough credible nonchalance to make Boston appreciate how he’d catapulted himself to the top of the plastics industry.

“I also wanted to see how you’re doing here. What with you living in a haunted house and all.”

Boston winced. Here it came.

“And I wanted to see my daughter.”

He’d been waiting for that. Boston went into the parlor and offered Brett a seat. He sank himself onto the sofa and surreptitiously rubbed his eyes. He was getting a headache. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.”

“Charming interview she gave on television about her experiences with the undead.”

“Uhh… you saw that?” That was one thought that had never entered his head when he’d been trying to secure Shelby’s business by agreeing to tape in the house and allow interviews.

“Its been a slow news week apparently. The entire Midwest has picked up the specialty piece on two Chicagoans in rural Ohio subjected to the harassment of restless ghosts.”

“Amanda never even saw any ghosts. What did she say in her interview?”

“Oh, she was appropriately skeptical, yet played it so that in the end you believed in everything from levitation to reincarnation. My daughter is quite convincing when she wants to be.”

Brett didn’t look amused by that, or proud.

Boston said, “I haven’t seen the show. I understand it was made to look a little sensational.” Including the reporter focusing in on the segment where Boston had walked into the room, the tape went blank while three and a half minutes elapsed according to the footage, then he was shown eating his sliced bread that had appeared out of nowhere. Boston hadn’t seen Mary since that night, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. It seemed a little risky to eat chicken cooked by a dead housekeeper, even a friendly one.

Brett snorted. “
Sensational
would be an accurate assessment.”

“Did they name the company?” Boston was starting to sweat under his T-shirt, realizing the implications of what he’d done. Brett could be here to fire him for bringing bad publicity to Samson.

“Yes.” Brett said nothing more, but stood up. “Is Amanda upstairs? I would like to speak to her.”

“Amanda? She doesn’t live here. I guess she’s at her own house, but I’m not really sure. I haven’t talked to her since Tuesday.” Boston drummed his fingers on his knees. “You can call her cell phone.”

It hadn’t seemed like anything could get worse than losing Shelby. Yet losing his job might just add to the fun summer he was having, given the thunderous look on Brett’s face.

“You mean Amanda isn’t living with you?”

“No, and we’re not seeing each other either.” He would have thought that would make Brett happy, but it didn’t appear to be having that effect. His boss was a trim, healthy, in-shape guy in his mid-fifties. He wasn’t losing hair, didn’t have a gut, and never seemed out of breath. Right now he looked like he could have a coronary on the plum-colored throw rug.

“She told me she was going to New York to visit friends. But she came here for you, I know she did. That’s why I sent you here in the first place, to get you out of her reach. But if she’s not with you, what is she doing here?”

Exploring America didn’t seem like the answer to give Brett. And truthfully, he didn’t really know what Amanda was still doing in Cuttersville. He would have expected her to be long gone by now. Like he wanted to be.

Despite the fact that he’d reconciled himself to Cuttersville, and that he enjoyed living in his big old house, which hadn’t had a hint of haunting since he’d last seen Shelby, he wanted to leave. Because every time he stepped into the Busy Bee or drove past Hair by Harriet, or saw Brady, he thought of Shelby.

And wanted her all over again.

He was losing sleep, struggling to concentrate, feeling beyond miserable, and he wanted to slide back into his old life and forget he’d ever spent the summer hot and dusty and with the woman he wanted to marry.

“I don’t know what Amanda’s doing here, Brett, to be perfectly honest with you. I would have thought she’d have left two weeks ago.”

“She does it to annoy me,” Brett said flatly.

Boston stood up, not sure how far he could go, but he spoke anyway. “She just wants some attention from you.”

Brett looked unimpressed. “She’s not a child. If she wants to talk to me, she can call me, not play these damn annoying games that have me worried half to death she’ll get herself raped and murdered in some godforsaken place.”

Boston didn’t know a thing about fatherhood, but he could see the concern on Brett’s face and he felt for him. But he also felt like he should talk to his daughter. “Let me give you directions to where she’s staying. Then I’m requesting that you transfer me back to Chicago. The plant here is well run, and I’m superfluous.”

His boss paused and looked him over before nodding. “I’d be happy to grant your request.”

But it wasn’t relief that surged through Boston, it was sickening regret.

The problem was, when you had a good plan, there were other people who just went and messed it up. Take Boston and Shelby for instance, Jessie Stritmeyer thought as she weeded out her petunias, cursing the prickers. Damn things had the flowers in a chokehold.

What was Boston about, leaving Cuttersville? She had walked that horse to water, knew for a fact that he’d even taken a drink, and yet he’d just strolled right out of the pasture.

She didn’t like being wrong. She didn’t like being right and having no one listen to her.

Jessie yanked with fervor, tossing a spiny plant into her lawn refuse bag.

It was time to have a talk with her granddaughter.

There was miserable, then there was scum-sucking, life-draining, pit-of-despair agony. Shelby was experiencing the latter.

As she dragged herself through to the end of another day, she wondered why doing the right thing was so goddamn awful. Stepping into the Yellow House, she pulled at her sticky hot T-shirt and reminded herself that she had done what she had thought was best in breaking things off with Boston.

There hadn’t been any better options, and when she walked herself back through her thought process, she could see that she’d made the only logical decision. If the last two weeks had been something akin to hell on earth, well, she’d get better eventually.

“Shelby Louise, come in the kitchen. I need to talk to you.”

Gran sounded crotchety, which was a little out of character. Shelby sighed and forced her feet to take her in that direction. She was bone tired, not sleeping well at night, and taking tours through the now-empty White House was like a fresh slap every day.

She loved Boston Macnamara. And she had sent him away.

No. He had left, and she’d do well to remember that.

“Hey, Gran, how are you?” Shelby kissed Gran’s cheek as she came into the kitchen.

Her grandmother was standing by the sink, making iced tea and looking severe. She had on aqua blue capri pants and a white shirt with a little nautical anchor front and center, making Shelby feel a little better. She may not have Boston, but she had a family who loved her.

“Shelby Louise, I’m kicking you out.”

Or not. “What! What do you mean?”

“I mean you have until the end of the month to find another place to live.” Gran stirred the pitcher of tea vigorously before setting it on the windowsill above the sink.

To say that she was shocked was an understatement. She was flabbergasted, and hurt. “Why? Do you want me to pay rent? I can do that. Gran?” Shelby just didn’t think she could deal with finding another place to live right then. She wanted comfort, the familiar.

“The rent is six hundred.”

“I can’t afford that!”

“Guess you’ll have to move out, then. Now you can do a couple of things. You can move in with your mother.”

And listen to her mother and Dave cooing over each other night and day. Shelby shuddered.

“You can find an apartment. Or you can haul your butt up to Chicago and throw yourself at Boston. I’m hoping that’s the one you’ll pick.”

So that was what this was all about. Gran wanted her to get back together with Boston. Yeah, well, Shelby wanted that too, but this was the real world.

“Gran… I can’t do that. I can’t live in Chicago, away from all of you. What kind of job would I get? It’s not practical. I’d hate it there.”

“How the hell do you know?” Gran asked with a vehemence that had Shelby opening her eyes wide. “You’ve barely ever even left Cuttersville. You might love it there.”

Which was what Boston had said and what someone always says when they’re trying to convince you to do something you don’t want to do. “I don’t want to leave my family.”

Gran’s face softened. She put her wrinkled hand on Shelby’s cheek. “Shelby, honey, I don’t want you to go either. I’ve loved having you here in the house with me for the last three years. But the good thing about family is you can take us for granted. We’ll always be here, we’ll always love you, and there will always be room for you.”

“For six hundred dollars,” Shelby retorted, though secretly pleased to hear Gran liked having her around.

“Wiseass.” Gran patted her face, then dropped her hand. Her eyes, the same cocoa brown as Shelby’s own, studied her. “But you’ve got to have your own family now, honey. You deserve to have a husband who loves you and children of your own to raise. Home is where your heart is, Shelby Louise, and your heart is with Boston.”

Shelby felt all the weight of logic pressing down on her, all the pain of the last two weeks, and knew that her grandmother was absolutely right.

It didn’t matter where. She truly wanted to be with Boston for the rest of her life.

Boston was coping. Or so he told himself as his mind wandered off his work for the nine-millionth time. He spun his chair around and faced the wall of windows in his office, gazing out at the Chicago skyline and to the snatches of Lake Michigan in the backdrop.

The day was beautiful. Bright, sunny, a balmy eighty degrees, with thick puffy white clouds in the sky, as July slid into August. He should be ecstatic to be back home. He should be gorging himself at exotic restaurants every night, hitting the theater and cheering on the Cubs.

Instead he was working long days, but not getting a whole lot accomplished, then returning to his apartment and staring into space while claiming to be watching television. Funny how he’d never noticed until now that his apartment was lacking in warmth, full of cool grays and blues, and that he’d never bothered to take the time to meet his neighbors.

Boston tossed down his pen and focused on his computer screen. Moping around like a bad poet was not helping. He needed to distract himself from how much he was missing Shelby, and work was the most productive way to do that.