Manhunting in Mississippi (18 page)

“To take back to Chicago with me,” he said, then left.

“WHEW!
Let’s take a break,” Granny Falkner said, dabbing at her glistening forehead.

“I wish you would take it easy,” Piper said for the hundredth time since the movers had arrived.

“I’l be taking it easy for the rest of my days.”

“I won’t believe it until I see it.” She fol owed her grandmother to the kitchen where they poured glasses of lemonade and sat down on the only furniture left—two step stools.

“So how are things developing between you and your Mr. Bentley?” Gran asked, sipping from her glass.

“He’s not
my
Mr. Bentley,” Piper corrected her. “And he went back to Chicago on Thursday.”

“Oh, I see. And were you able to wow him with a chocolate dessert before he left?”

“Um-hmmm,” Piper mumbled, talking into her glass. She hoped the guilty flush climbing her neck was not obvious to her grandmother’s keen eyes.

“Okay, what gives?”

Busted.
“Wel ,” she said, twisting on the stool, “he signed the contract.”

“That’s wonderful,” Gran said, but when Piper didn’t look up, she added, “Isn’t it?”

Guilt and humiliation and shame pul ed at her.

“Piper, stop squirming and tel me what’s bothering you.”

She sat up straight, then looked her grandmother in the eye. “I think he signed the contract for the wrong reasons.”

“He apparently liked the dessert. What other reason could he have had?”

Piper didn’t say anything, just stared into her grandmother’s eyes, begging her to understand. Suddenly, realization dawned on the older woman’s face. “Oh, I see.”

Squeezing the bridge of her nose with forefinger and thumb, Piper said, “I real y messed up.”

Ice clinked in Gran’s glass. “Oh, I don’t know. Did you come up with a good idea for his restaurants?”

She nodded.

“Wel , then, in a roundabout way, it seems as though everyone got what they wanted.”

Piper gave her grandmother a knowing smile. “You’re letting me off the hook.”

“Grandmother’s prerogative. Besides, I don’t think you messed up that badly.”

She stared into her glass, wondering why some of the lemon seeds floated and other ones sank. “Yeah, Gran, I messed up, big time. I fel in love with him.”

Her grandmother set down her glass. “Ah, wel , that does put a different spin on things, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“At least it wasn’t a meaningless encounter.”

“Not to me.”

“Did he tel you it was meaningless to him?”

“Not in so many words.”

“What words did he use exactly?”

Piper heaved a deep breath. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Shepherd.”

“Oh dear.” Her grandmother clucked. “Wel , if that’s the kind of man he is, then be glad you’re rid of him.”

“I suppose so,” Piper said miserably. “I just thought he might be the one, you know?”

“I was only teasing you the other day, my dear,” her grandmother said gently. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you needed a man to be happy. You don’t. I miss Nate every day that I breathe, but I’m stil happy.”

“I know, but I
am
getting older and al my friends are married, and I real y do want the fairy tale someday—marriage to a good man, maybe even a baby.”

“Someday doesn’t mean it has to happen today.”

“No, but…what’s wrong with me, Gran?” To her horror, she burst into tears. “How could I have fal en in love with a man who doesn’t love me? Is my judgment as bad as…

Mom’s?”

“Shush, dear,” her grandmother chided gently, squeezing Piper’s knee. “Your mother doesn’t have bad judgment—she simply doesn’t care about the consequences. That’s the

difference, see? You care. Besides, how do you know that Mr. Bentley doesn’t love you?”

She sniffed, feeling like a teenager. “I just know.”

“And does he know that you love him?”

Piper glanced up at her grandmother’s wise eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You mean you haven’t told him?”

She shook her head. “I tried to do al the things in the book, but I messed them al up. But it says never to let a man know how you feel—at least not at first.”

Her grandmother’s pale forehead wrinkled. “What book?”

“The book you gave me last week, the one you and your sisters wrote.
The Sexton Sisters’ Secret Guide—
”

“To Marrying a Good Man,”
the older woman finished, then started laughing. “I didn’t realize I’d given you that old piece of trash.”

“Trash?” Piper frowned. “But you al married wonderful men.”

Gran’s laughter echoed off the bare wal s. “Piper, that was fifty-odd years ago. Times have changed.”

“But not men and women.”

“Oh, yes, men and women have changed, too. For the better, I might add. I’m thril ed that you’ve had so many choices in your life—you got a good education, found a nice job.

You don’t have to get married, Piper—don’t you see the beauty of it? So when you find someone you want to be with, it wil be a
choice
and you’l be wonderful y happy if you wait for the right person.” She shook her head and gripped Piper’s hand. “If you love this man, you’d better tel him.” Then she grinned. “And throw away that blasted book!”

Piper smiled, wanting to believe her, but she’d seen the look on Ian’s face when he left—he’d even flaunted the cherry he was taking back to the woman he was going to marry.

And she was half-afraid that if she cal ed and he thought she were bothering him, he might renege on the agreement. No, she was better off not cal ing. Definitely.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Keep in mind that some women never marry, but find gardening to be a satisfactory replacement.

“HEY, PIPER,
what’s shakin’?”

Piper sat back on her heels, removed a soiled gardening glove and scratched her nose with her knuckle as Lenny walked over, carrying a cardboard box. “Just planting a few

begonias, Len.”

“I came to tel you goodbye.”

She glanced up and shielded her eyes from the bright sun. “Goodbye?”

“I’m moving into my own place.”

Piper grinned. “That’s great, Len.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “Got me a woman, too.”

Her eyes widened. “Real y?”

He looked embarrassed. “Wel , she doesn’t know it yet.”

“Ah. Anyone I know?”

“Maybe—she’s a nurse lady. Nice red hair and braces.”

Piper blinked. “Janet Browning?”

“That’s her,” he said excitedly. “She comes to the Gas Giddyup every day for a newspaper and a Dr. Pepper.”

Leaning her head to one side, Piper considered the match. It could work, she conceded. Besides, who was she to give advice on a person’s love life? Ian had been gone for

over a week and she stil couldn’t bring herself to cal him. She’d final y covered the kitchen table with a quilt to keep from picturing him standing there making love to her on its surface.

“Janet’s a great gal, Len. I hope it works out for you.”

He nodded, then looked sheepish. “Thanks, Piper—for al your advice, I mean.”

She pushed herself to her feet, brushed off her shorts and gave him a genuine smile. “No problem, Len.”

“What happened to that city fel a?”

Piper’s pulse kicked up, the way it always did when she thought of Ian. “He went back to the city.”
Back to his fiancée,
her conscience whispered. She shrugged, as if it was no big deal. As if she didn’t lie awake every night on top of the covers thinking about him.

“Why didn’t he take you with him?” he asked in the simple way that made sense only to Lenny.

She smiled, feeling a rush of affection for the bungling man. “Because Mudvil e is my home,” she insisted.

“I thought you liked him,” he persisted.

“I thought I did, too,” she admitted. “But a relationship has to go two ways.”

He frowned. “It does?”

Trying not to laugh, she nodded. “It helps.”

“I’l have to remember that.”

“Bye, Len.” She gave him a brief hug. “Good luck.”

“See ya, Piper.”

She watched him walk down the sidewalk, then jump into his rattletrap car, al his worldly possessions in one box. His happy whistle floated back to her before the car roared to life and shot toward town.

The sound of her phone pealed through the open window. The Realtor, final y! She jumped the front steps two at a time, then swung open the screen door, letting it bang behind her. With her heart pounding in anticipation, she lifted the phone. “Hel o?”

“Piper, this is Terri at the real-estate office.”

“Did you match the offer?”

“Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because this morning your grandmother made a counteroffer to the Warner man.”

Piper gripped the phone. “But I thought he’d offered her the asking price.”

“He came in just shy of it, but now Granny Falkner wants fifty thousand more.”

“What?”

“Beats al I’ve ever seen,” Terri declared.

Hot tears of frustration fil ed her eyes. “I can’t touch that price.”

“You’d only need to put down an additional ten thousand—twenty percent of the increase,” she said hopeful y. Then the woman sighed. “Of course, you could never afford the

mortgage payments.”

“Of course.” She bit her tongue, trying to stem the tears.

“I’m sorry, Piper, but if Mr. Warner accepts your grandmother’s price, she’l be sitting pretty.”

“You’re right.” Piper sniffed, then smiled into the phone. “Of course, you’re right.”

“Listen, dear, I realize you’ve got your heart set on your gran’s place, but there are lots of darling little houses you can easily afford, and then you wouldn’t be strapped for cash.”

“I’l let you know, Terri. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and cal me back if you happen to win the lottery.”

Piper smirked, then hung up, feeling elated for her grandmother—if she had to see her home turned into a hotel, she was going to force Mr. Warner to make it worth her while—

but she felt heartbroken for herself.

Heartbroken.

She stared at the phone for a long while, imagining where Ian might be at this time on a Saturday. Working? At the club? Having lunch? On his honeymoon? She slid open the

junk drawer by the phone where she’d stuck his business card and ran her fingers over the raised letters. “I love you,” she whispered, then frowned. “I think.”

The washing machine buzzed, so she dropped the card back into the drawer and padded to the louvered closet that housed her washer and dryer. With lots of sunshine left in

the day, she decided to hang her sheets on the line. With a start, she realized they were the same ones she and Ian had lain under—she remembered how his muscular arm had looked against the floral pattern. Oh, wel , she would forget that detail someday, when the sheets were relegated to the giveaway bin or the ragbag.

She carried the basket of linens out the back door and hung the sheets first, then the pil owcases, on a cotton cord strung between two metal poles. When she snapped the last pil owcase to take out the wrinkles, a smal , lumpy object flew up in the air, then thumped on the ground, glinting in the sun.
The ring.
With her heart pounding, she plucked it from the grass, surprised at its weight, dazzled by the size of the stones. Blatantly masculine, the thick band of gold was slightly rounded on the inside—the sign of a good ring, she supposed, although she had no way of knowing. Two rows of diamonds paraded around one half of the ring’s perimeter, each of them larger than the diamond stud earrings on which she’d splurged two years ago. One offending prong poked sideways—the one that had stuck her, she presumed.

She tested the weight of the ring in her hand and wondered how much it was worth. Ten thousand? Twenty? She shook her head rueful y, thinking of the things she could do with that kind of money. Then she stopped and curled her fingers over the ring.
The things she could do with that kind of money.
There was a pawnshop in Tupelo…No, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

But it’s probably insured,
a dark voice inside her whispered.
Ian will simply get another.
And some tiny part of her marveled at the irony of her pawning the proposed wedding ring of the man she loved.

While the larger, saner part of her considered the sentence for insurance fraud.

Piper sighed and crushed the ring in her hand until her flesh hurt. Then before she could change her mind or do something hokey like write out a script, she marched into the house and dialed his office number in Chicago. With each ring, she grew more nervous, hoping he would answer, praying he wouldn’t. Final y, the phone bounced over to a voice-mail recorder and his voice came over the line.

“Hel o, this is Ian Bentley of the Bentley Group. I’l be on vacation until Monday the sixth of July. Leave a message and I’l cal you back.”

While the message went on to give directions for how to reach other members of his staff if this cal was an emergency, Piper’s mind raced. Today was June 13, so he’d be out for the next three weeks…and she couldn’t imagine the infamous workaholic Ian Bentley taking time off to do anything short of…Her heart sank and her knees buckled. He
had
gotten married. She hung up.

“FIFTY THOUSAND?”
Ian asked, surprised. “She didn’t seem like a shyster to me, Ben—she just seemed like a nice old lady. Sort of grandmotherly, actual y.”

“Wel , she’s a savvy grandmother,” Ben barked. “What do you think? You saw the place. Is it worth it?”

“To me? Sure,” Ian said. “Ben, her old man built the place himself.”

“And?”

“
And?
He completed the inside finishing work with wooden nails, man.”

“And?”

“
And
it’s an unbelievable place. It’s got character and warmth and…the lady even caned the seats of the rocking chairs sitting on the front porch.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ben said pleasantly, then he growled, “Maybe that’s why she raised the price fifty thousand dol ars—she’s throwing in the chairs!”