Manhunting in Mississippi (19 page)

“As a matter of fact, Mrs. Falkner told me she was moving to a much smal er place, so maybe she wil sel some of her furniture. There was a man’s mahogany wardrobe in the

second spare bedroom that I’d love to—”

“Ian,” Ben broke in. “What’s with you? I’m talking business, you’re talking Walton’s Mountain.”

Dropping into his father’s chair in the library, Ian leaned his head back and laughed. “Sorry, pal. I guess being home with my folks is making me sentimental.”

“Yeah, wel , don’t start blubbering on me. Tel Mr. and Mrs. B. hel o for me, would you?”

“Sure, Ben.” Ian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And keep me posted on the Falkner house, would you?”

“Good night, John-Boy.”

Smiling, Ian hung up the phone, then steepled his hands together over his stomach.

“Was that Meredith?” Fresh from a game of golf, his mom walked in and drew a glass of water from the wet bar.

“Uh, no, that was Ben. He said to say hel o.”

She drank, nodding.

“Mom.” Ian stood and turned his back to her, in case his expression gave away too much.

“Who is she, Ian?”

He faced her, frowning sourly. “How do you do that?”

“You mean, how do I know you’ve met someone?” She held up her fingers and bent them back dramatical y as she spoke. “First, you cal and tel me you’re taking a vacation.

Then
you tel me it’s a three-week vacation.
Then
you tel me you’re coming to see me and your father.
Then
you come alone.” She stopped, sat down in a nearby chair, and smiled. “Is that enough or should I mention how moony you’ve been?”

He scoffed. “Moony?”

“So, what’s her name, and does Meredith know?”

After a deep breath, he surrendered. “Piper Shepherd and yes. Meredith proposed to me a couple of weeks ago. I declined when I came back from a business trip to Mississippi.”

She crossed her arms. “I can’t blame Meredith, she’s waited longer than I would have.”

He smirked. “I know, I shouldn’t have let it drift on for so long.”

“So you’ve drifted on to someone else, someone in Mississippi?”

Feeling like a schoolboy, he nodded. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know how she feels about me.”

“Did you ask her?”

He pursed his lips. “No.”

She groaned and sat up in her chair. “What
is
it with your generation? You think everyone around you is psychic or something.” Rising to her feet, she smiled and gentled her voice. “Cal her, son. Why should you go another day not knowing?” She kissed him on the cheek and walked out, gesturing pointedly to the phone as she left.

Ian lifted the handset and stared until it blurred into two. Why, indeed? How could he explain that while their night together had been an emotional upheaval for him, the incident had been but a business ploy for Piper? And that he was afraid the feelings he had for Piper were out of some perverse relief that their interlude had kept him from making a mistake by marrying Meredith.

He set down the phone. No, he would not cal her and leave himself hanging in the wind until he had things straight in his head. He needed some distance from the whole

Meredith thing, and the whole Piper thing. After his vacation, he might give her a cal . Maybe. Perhaps.

“WHAT’S YOUR SCHEDULE
like for next weekend?” Justine asked breathlessly over the telephone.

“Hel o to you, too,” Piper said, wrestling with a rol of clear packing tape. So far, more of it had landed on her legs and feet than on the box she was trying to wrap.

“I’m serious—are you free next Saturday?”

“Wel , I’l have to cancel my weekend getaway with the two Chippendale dancers, but for you—hey, I’d do it. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Piper dropped the tape and watched it rol away, knowing she’d probably never find the end again. “Justine, you’re joking, right?”

“Nope. I’m going to be a mommy!” She screamed with happiness. “I’m four months.”

“That’s unbelievable! Four months?” Piper calculated ahead to the wedding date two months away. “That dress wil be a little tight, won’t it, Jus?”

“That’s why we’re getting married on Saturday!” she sang. “At three o’clock!”

Piper blinked. “You’re going to have a sit-down dinner for four hundred people this Saturday?”

“No, sil y, we’re having to scale back a little—we’re on a budget now, you know. Just a smal ceremony, family and close friends. You’l stil be my maid of honor, won’t you?”

“Of course I wil ! But the dresses couldn’t possibly be ready, could they?” She crossed her fingers and looked heavenward.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’l be finished. Mother said we might have to tape the hems, but they’l be ready.”

Piper wrinkled her nose. “Hair bows, too?”

“Hair bows, too…Hey, you had to hang up when I cal ed for your measurements before you could tel me how your manhunt is going.” She giggled, giddy from hormones, Piper

guessed.

“Manhunt?” she parroted, then sighed. “I’m going to see if Rich wants to come to the wedding with me.”

“No luck, huh? And Rich is stil teetering on the fence?”

Piper frowned. “Cut him some slack, Justine. Rich is a great guy. Are you getting married in the same church?”

“Yep.”

“What time should I be there?”

“The ceremony starts at three o’clock, but the pictures are at two, so come early and we’l get dressed together.”

“I’l be there,” she promised. “Congratulations!”

She hung up the phone, smiling, happier than she’d been in the longest time. Even when she looked at the package containing the ring she was mailing back to Ian, the hurt

had dul ed to a bittersweet ache. She’d be al right in a few months, she decided. And maybe she’d even embark on another manhunt—except this time with a better laid plan.

She found a box of plain stationery to write him a note. “Dear Ian,” she read as she wrote. No. “Dear Mr. Bentley.” Much better. “I found the ring you were looking for in my laundry—” She bit her bottom lip. “I found the ring you were looking for, period. Have a nice day.” She made a face. “Have a nice married life.” She drew a line through it. “Say hel o to your cherry.” She scratched out that phrase, too, but it made her laugh. “I love you.”
This
she drew a line through, and didn’t laugh. “Sincerely, Piper Shepherd.”

She recopied the keeper phrases in neat script, and folded the paper. Resisting the ridiculous urge to kiss it, she went in search of more tape. After she inserted the note, she wrapped up the package so that it was completely watertight, just in case the delivery truck rode into a canal or something. She drove past the post office, tel ing herself that the courier in Tyson would be faster, while admitting to herself she was in no hurry—as soon as the package left her possession, al direct ties to Ian would be lost.

Feeling like a criminal, she sat in her van for forty minutes, until just before the place closed. Then she fil ed out a neat mailing label from his business card and watched as the man tossed the ring on a heap of other packages that were being loaded. Soon it disappeared from sight, and Piper drove home, hitting downtown Mudvil e during prime cruising hour.

She saw Gary Purdue and his girlfriend had gotten back together. Lenny and Janet pul ed up beside her in his belch-mobile, and to her amazement they seemed to be having a

good time. “There’s someone for everyone,” she muttered, shaking her head, then frowning in the side mirror. “Except me.”

When she arrived home with a chicken sandwich, she decided it was almost too hot to eat. She turned up the fan on the counter, its intensity kicking up bits of tape and paper from her packing job. She dragged a smal can behind her as she col ected the garbage. When her fingers closed around a piece of folded stationery, she frowned, then remembered her scratch note. Laughing at her own antics on paper, she unfolded the note…then nearly had a stroke.

In her spasmodic hands, she held the nice note, the pretty note…the edited note. And her sil y, catty and—she gulped—
honest
note was somewhere in the mail, hurtling toward his office. She clawed her way to the phone and cal ed the package company, letting it ring one hundred and two times before giving up. Then, admitting defeat, she turned off al the lights, curled into a bal on her bed and cried herself to sleep.

AMUSED,
Ian tried his best not to laugh. “She raised it by another twenty-five thousand?”

“Yes, can you believe it? I was being a nice guy and met her halfway on her last price hike, and then she jacks the price up even further! Are you sure this woman is stable, Ian?”

He wet his lips, rarely having seen Ben bested. “She seemed stable to me.”

“Wel , I think she’s a lunatic!” he thundered. “I’m going to meet her halfway on this offer and she’s not getting a penny more!” He slammed down the phone.

Ian sat and listened to the ringer fade. “And that’l show her, Ben,” he murmured.

Then he dialed his voice mail and jotted down a few names and numbers. He hadn’t stopped hoping that Piper had found the sil y ring and would cal him. Meredith hadn’t

insured the ring yet, so he simply had the purchase price transferred from her charge card to his. He hadn’t offered an explanation for the ring’s disappearance, and she hadn’t asked for one.

He listened to the last message, but could barely concentrate on the words of a West Coast associate. Saving it for later, Ian hung up, realizing he had undergone a subtle

change in the last few days. Thoughts of Piper stil plagued him every waking minute, but now he realized he wasn’t as anxious for those thoughts to be gone. When had he stopped fighting the fact that he loved her? Before he could change his mind, Ian dialed directory assistance.

“What city?”

“Mudvil e, Mississippi.”

“What listing?”

“Falkner, Mrs. El en Falkner.”

“That phone has been forwarded to a new number. I can connect you.”

The phone rang three times before she answered. “Hel o?”

“Mrs. Falkner, you might not remember me. My name is Ian Bentley.”

“I certainly do remember you. How can I help you, Mr. Bentley?”

“I’l be coming to Mudvil e next week and I was hoping I could stop by and talk to you about the house.”

“Certainly. Are you coming back for business or pleasure?”

He smiled wryly. “Pleasure, I hope, although I won’t know until I get there.”

“Cal anytime—I’l meet you at the house.”

“Oh, and Mrs. Falkner, I know this is asking a lot, but could you hold off on accepting any offers on the house?”

“But your associate is the only interested buyer, Mr. Bentley.”

“I know,” he admitted sheepishly. “Can you stal him?”

“Mr. Bentley.” Her voice was rich with suggestion. “Are you suggesting that I jerk Mr. Warner around?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry—Ben can handle it.”

“Tel me, are you yourself interested in purchasing the house?”

“Maybe.”

“For commercial purposes?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I can’t give you any guarantees about buying it, because it depends on…someone else.” He swal owed. “But if I buy your house, Mrs. Falkner, I plan to live there.”

“Such a big house for one person, Mr. Bentley—and I should know.”

“That’s the someone I was talking about, Mrs. Falkner. If she says yes, then I’l be making an offer on your home.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” she declared. “There haven’t been any children in the house for a long, long time. Mr. Bentley, if your young lady says yes, wil you bring her by so I can meet her?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Falkner. I’l cal you. Goodbye.”

He put the phone down and stood up, unsure of where to start. “Mom,” he cal ed as she walked by the library, “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

She frowned. “Wel , you don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“I’m going to Mississippi.”

Her eyes lit up. “Did you cal your Ms. Shepherd?”

“No, I have to go back to Chicago first to tie up some loose ends at the office, but after that, I’m going to see her.”

Her smiled wavered. “You’re just going to drop in?”

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“Wel …”

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh. Ian glanced at his watch. “Friday afternoon at four o’clock—she’s probably stil at the office.” Without a word, his mother slipped from the room and closed the French doors, giving him a wink through the glass before she turned and walked away.

Ian dialed directory assistance again, then wrote down the number for Blythe Industries. After a deep breath, he punched in the number, identified himself and asked for Piper, his heart beating as loudly and crazily as a child’s drum.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bentley, but Ms. Shepherd is out today,” the receptionist said. “Oh, hold on, please. Mr. Blythe was walking by and he’d like a word with you.”

“Bentley?” Edmund’s gravel y voice came over the line. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uh, no, Edmund.” Ian suppressed his disappointment. “I…I wanted a word with Ms. Shepherd, that’s al .”

“They’l be back in the office early next week,” Edmund said cheerful y.

Frowning, Ian asked, “They?”

“Rich and Piper—wedding in Tupelo, tomorrow. They have friends who live there so they asked for a few extra days off.”

His heart stopped. “Wedding?” His throat convulsed as he remembered her words.
My ideal wedding would be to leave town quietly then come back married.
“Do you know

where or what time?” he gasped.

“They didn’t talk to me about it,” Edmund said, then laughed. “Why?”

Ian grasped for an explanation. “I, uh, I have business there and I thought I might try to catch up with her, er, them.” Knowing he sounded insane, he squeezed the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb.

Mr. Blythe’s tone sounded rich with innuendo. “I thought you and Piper hit it off, Bentley. So I can’t blame you for not wanting to wait until she gets back. Hang on.”

Ian heard the man asking the receptionist if she had details of the wedding. His mind raced—he’d lost her. Tomorrow she was marrying another man.