Out in the Country (12 page)

“Yes, Agnes has withdrawn her appeal. Apparently she said Hardiwick needs more MacCreadys.”

Lynne laughed aloud in both relief and delight. “Thank goodness for that.”

“Absolutely. Now you can really get a move on--have you thought about hiring an architect?”

“Umm...” Lynne gave an embarrassed laugh. “I know we need someone to oversee the renovations, but I haven’t actually looked--”

“There’s a terrific architect who lives right here in Hardiwick,” John said. “If you want to keep it local. Ed Tyson. Another friend of Adam’s.”

“That’s certainly a good recommendation.”

He paused. “I don’t want to seem pushy--”

“No, no,” Lynne assured him. “I appreciate all the advice I can get. And having everyone involved in some way means a lot to me... I want this to be a community effort as much as possible.”

“We’re certainly all behind you.” John paused. “When are you coming back to Vermont?”
Just the question made Lynne realise how much she wanted to return to Hardiwick... to her home. For it felt like home now... a home in the making, at least.

“I have some things to catch up on here,” she told John. “But I should be back by next week.”

“Good.”

They chatted for a few more minutes--Lynne was strangely reluctant to sever the connection--before finally saying goodbye. A glance at the clock told Lynne she’d better hurry, for she was due to meet her friend Sarah for lunch at noon.

Dressed and ready to go, Lynne stopped in surprise at the sight of Molly grading papers at the dining room table. “Where’s Jason?”

“Out,” Molly replied shortly.

“You didn’t want to go out together?”

Molly gave a little shrug. “I have work to do.”

Lynne pressed her lips together as she surveyed her daughter’s bleak but determined expression. Grading papers could certainly wait, and it worried her that Molly had chosen to spend time apart from Jason on the one weekend he’d come to visit. “Do you want to talk about it?” she finally asked, and Molly looked up miserably.

“Not particularly. I don’t even know what I would say.”

Lynne dropped a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “Well, when you do, or even if you don’t but still feel like talking, I’m here. “Okay?”

Molly nodded and managed a smile. “Okay.”

Sarah was waiting for her at their usual table at Sarabeth’s, a pitcher of the restaurant’s signature mint lemonade on the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lynne said as she slid into the booth across from Sarah. “I actually slept in this morning--it must be a first!”

“You’ve had a lot of firsts lately,” Sarah replied, and Lynne glanced warily at her friend. Had there been a suggestion of acerbity in her voice, or had she just forgotten how sharp-tongued Sarah could be? She took a sip of lemonade.

“It’s true. My life has turned upside down in the last month.”

Sarah opened the menu and scanned it, looking up once, her eyebrows raised. “How are things in Vermont?”

With a little pang of guilt Lynne realised she hadn’t called Sarah to tell her any of the news from Hardiwick; her friend didn’t know about Graham, or the zoning appeal, or... John.

Why should she know about John, a sly inner voice asked, and Lynne pushed the question--as well as the answer--away. “Things are going well,” she said with a smile. “A few bumps in the road, but we’ve smoothed them out and I’m hoping it’s full sailing ahead.” She smiled wryly. “I’m mixing metaphors, but you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.” Sarah waited until the waitress had come to take their orders and left again with their menus before she continued. “Lynne, I hardly want to spoil this all for you, but are you quite sure you know what you’re doing?”

Lynne smiled breezily despite the pang of hurt she felt at Sarah’s words. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what I’m doing,” she replied. “I was told this morning I’d need an architect to renovate the house--something I hadn’t even thought of.”

“And yet you still plan on going ahead?” Sarah raised elegant eyebrows, tapping one long polished fingernail on her frosted glass of lemonade. The gesture reminded Lynne of her own ragged nails. In the city, she’d had regular manicures; it was all part of her image as Adam’s wife. She smiled a bit to herself, suddenly, strangely glad for her unkempt nails.

“Yes, I do. It feels right, Sarah, right in a way I didn’t even expect.” Lynne leaned forward, wanting her friend to understand. “I didn’t know this, but turning the house into a bed and breakfast was Adam’s dream, back when he was young. I suppose he lost it along the way, but it feels right to go back and restore the dream along with the house. It
matters
.” Lynne took a sip of lemonade, surprised by the sudden welling of emotion. She felt almost near tears... tears of joy and gratitude and only a little sorrow.

“That’s all very well,” Sarah replied after a moment, “but what about your life here? You might not have had a full-time career, Lynne, but you had many important responsibilities. You were on the committee for the firm’s annual auction, and you volunteered at several charities--”

Lynne shook her head. “I’m not saying those things aren’t important, but there are a dozen people or more who could take my place. I’m the only one who can restore the inn.”

“And you’re sure you aren’t just running away?” Sarah asked, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed. “Eventually you need to make some kind of life for yourself here, you know--”

“Do I?” Lynne interjected. She could have laughed at the shocked expression on Sarah’s face. New Yorkers couldn’t imagine living anywhere else--but she could. She covered Sarah’s hand with her own. “I know this is sudden and a bit hard for you, but I like living in Hardiwick, Sarah. I’m making some kind of life there.” Her lips curved in a smile. “I’ve made it already. And I’m not running away...” She paused, the smile widening, the realisation unfurling like a flower inside of her. “I’m running
to
. This is the right thing to do.”

Molly stared blankly at the pocket inside her leather school bag where she kept her wallet. It was empty, and it shouldn’t be. She always kept her wallet in there, and she was quite sure she hadn’t taken it out that day except to buy lunch. Determinedly she dug through her bag again, half-hoping to find it had fallen among her papers, or
in the outside pocket even though she really knew it wasn’t.

It was gone.

Molly withdrew her hand from the bag and sat back in her chair. It was nearing four o’clock in the afternoon, and Tonya had just left. Over the last week she’d developed the habit of stopping by Molly’s empty classroom before she went home and chatting rather shyly about poetry. Molly found herself genuinely looking forward to the conversations, and she’d felt a friendship with the girl. So much so that she’d felt comfortable--safe--enough to leave her bag while she went to photocopy a poem for Tonya to take home.

And now her wallet was gone.

Molly closed her eyes. She didn’t want to make assumptions, judgments, yet the evidence was all too obvious. She’d had her wallet at lunch, and the only time her bag had been out of her sight had been when it was with Tonya. It followed that Tonya, a notorious thief already, had stolen it.

“Why am I surprised?” Molly asked herself, her voice sounding strange and lonely in the empty classroom. Yet she was surprised, as well as hurt. She’d wanted to believe better of Tonya, had been beginning to believe. To hope.

Now she sighed and shook her head.

“Why so down, newbie?” Luke stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, his own bag thrown over one shoulder. Just the sight of him made Molly’s heart beat faster and she pushed away the guilty memory of Jason’s sad smile.

“I didn’t watch my bag,” she confessed, wanting to sound wry but ending up sounding rather heartbroken instead.

Luke knew instantly what she meant. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be. But if I confront her--” Molly shrugged. “It will look like I don’t trust her.”

“You shouldn’t trust her,” Luke replied bluntly. “Remember, Molly, this girl has been suspended three times for stealing already.”

“What hurts,” Molly told him, a noticeable quiver in her voice, “isn’t the loss of money or whatever. It’s that she was duping me. She probably didn’t even like poetry at all.”

Luke’s expression softened, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. “You don’t know that,” he said gently. “She might have started coming to see you because of the poetry but your bag was too great a temptation to resist. I presume you left it alone with her?”

“Yes, just for a few minutes.” Molly shook her head. “I didn’t think of it that way, as a temptation.”

“It undoubtedly was. Tonya’s the oldest of five kids. Her father is out of the picture and her mother just got fired from work. She's probably feeling the pressure.” Molly didn’t ask how Luke had come to know so much about Tonya; she’d already come to realise he cared much more about the students of Cooper High than he liked to let on. “Talk to her,” he urged. “You need to deal with the situation in any case, and you might be surprised by what she says.”

Molly gave him a teasing smile. “You’re rather the optimist today.”

“You caught me in one of my rare moods.” Luke smiled back, his gaze warm, and Molly felt something like a shiver inside her, conscious of how alone they were in the empty classroom, the steady drumming of her own heart, and Luke’s intent blue gaze. “Luke--” She didn’t know what she was going to say--to admit--but it died on her lips for suddenly they were not alone. A woman appeared in the door, dressed in a black leather trench coat and matching boots, her long dark hair streaming down her back. She was beautiful and stylish and made Molly feel about ten years old.

“Luke?” Her voice was low and husky, Molly noticed, thinking,
of course
. She inadvertently took a step away from Luke, even though they hadn’t been standing that close together.

“Just a sec, Alyssa.” He turned back to Molly and gave her another smile; now it seemed only friendly and paternal. “I mean it, Molly. Talk to her. And don’t let it get you down.”

“Right.” Molly tried to smile back; it felt rather horribly like a grimace. Luke patted her on the shoulder and turned to Alyssa who gave Molly a fleeting, disinterested smile.

“Okay, babe.” He slipped an arm easily around Alyssa’s waist before turning back to wave goodbye at Molly. “Bye, newbie,” he said easily and then sauntered out of the classroom, Alyssaa by his side, leaving Molly feeling more alone than ever before.

The apartment was full of baking smells when Molly arrived home. She dropped her bag and leaned against the door, awash in a strange homesickness. She’d become so used to returning to empty, darkened rooms and a dinner of takeaway that she’d forgotten how much she missed this, the feeling of being welcome home. Of not being alone.

“Molly!” Lynne appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling. She looked so warm and comfortable Molly fought an urge to go to her and curl up on her lap like a child. “Jess has made a trial batch of scones, and you can be our official taste tester.”

“They smell wonderful,” Molly said, and Jess appeared from behind Lynne, also smiling, flour dusting her dark hair.

“Thank you, but it’s more how they taste. I think they might be a bit too dense--”

“Lead on,” Molly said, and followed her mother into the kitchen. Soon she was plied with a deliciously buttery scone and a cup of tea, milky and sweet just as she liked it. She took a welcome sip.

“The scone is fabulous,” she proclaimed, “and so is the tea. Thank you.” Then, to her embarrassment, she felt tears sting her eyes and one slide down her cheek. She took another hasty sip of tea, bending her head so her hair fell forward and hid her face. Lynne wasn’t fooled; mothers, Molly decided, never were.

“I’ll just pop out for a moment,” Jess said after a moment. “I need to make the post office before it closes.”

Lynne sat down next to Molly and laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, and Molly managed a hiccuppy laugh. “Honestly,” she joked, “the scones
were
delicious.”

“I don’t think Jess’s feelings were hurt,” Lynne replied with the hint of a smile in her voice. They sat in silence in the comforting warmth of the kitchen while Molly gathered the strength to talk.

“Jason asked me to marry him,” she finally said, her voice wobbling a bit.

“I take it you didn’t say yes?” Lynne replied after a moment.

“I told him I needed time to think. He sprang it on me so suddenly, and I hadn’t seen him in months--” Molly broke off, shaking her head. “It wasn’t fair.”

“And now that you have a little distance from it?” Lynne asked. “Do things feel any clearer?”

“I don’t feel like I have any distance,” Molly replied miserably, “from anything.”

Lynne frowned. “Are there are other things you’re worried about?”

Molly hesitated; it was hard to let go of the illusion that she had it all together. Yet this was her mother, and she reminded herself that most likely she hadn’t been fooling her mom. She hadn’t been fooling anybody. Haltingly she told Lynne about Tonya and the missing wallet, and then even about Luke.