Back to the Good Fortune Diner (16 page)

A momentary flash of anger was quickly blotted out by sadness in his dark, bloodshot eyes. He let out a long breath. “I’ve gotta get this going.” He turned back to the bowl of chicken marinating on the counter, staring at it as if he had no idea what to do next.

Tiff left for the Jamieson farm shortly after that, her worry for Daniel slowly giving way to thoughts about the lesson ahead. She was determined not to think about Chris and their “date” tonight. She didn’t want to build up any expectations or anticipation for the evening. She had to take it minute by minute. It was a lovely day, clear and hot, a few puffy clouds in the sky. The evening forecast would be equally clear and warm. It was the perfect weather to go for a long stroll...if they were going on a date. Which they weren’t.

Uttering a short curse, she realized she’d forgotten to change her clothes in her rush to leave the diner. It’d taken her all morning to choose an outfit that could do triple duty at the Good Fortune, tutoring and dinner. The problem was that she didn’t want to smell like fryer oil when she sat down with Chris—it didn’t matter so much with Simon. So, she’d brought a top to change into—a pretty, light pink cowl-necked thing with a few sequins that looked punky and flirty all at once.

It would be too obvious if she switched outfits in the Jamiesons’ bathroom. Simon would notice her costume change for sure, and might get ideas. And she was adamant that no one got ideas of any kind, herself included. This was simply a meeting to discuss Simon’s future. She wanted to look clean and smell fresh. That was all.

She pulled onto the shoulder and parked next to a wooded area. She changed quickly, praying no one would saunter up to the car while she was undressed. She took another minute to freshen her makeup. Then, because she was worried she’d put her shirt on inside out or left something untucked or unzipped, she got out of the car to check her reflection in the glass.

Shirt—neat. Hair—brushed. Teeth—no food bits.

She breathed deeply, trying to master the nerves fluttering in her tummy. There was no reason for her to be nervous. None at all. This wasn’t a date. But she still needed a plan, a way to deal with Chris. She would be forced to engage in real, adult conversation with him during their meal, and there was no way they would discuss Shakespeare for two hours. She wasn’t tutoring him anymore.

As long as they talked about Simon, they wouldn’t lapse into awkward silence, she reasoned. She paced outside of the car and began categorizing all the things she wanted to discuss with Chris, giving herself a bunch of cues on where to continue conversation. Good segues in conversation, she reminded herself, used the words
by the way, speaking of,
and
I recently read/heard about.
She could only hope that what followed was equally as smooth and brilliant.

Finally ready to face Chris, she went to open her car door.

It was locked.

She reached for her keys. The sickening plunge of her stomach occurred half a second before she realized she’d left them dangling from the ignition. Her purse sat on the passenger seat. Her cell phone was zipped inside the bag.

“No. Oh, no, no, no.” She gently thumped her forehead against the roof of the car. She refused to let panic take over, but her heart had started a hard hammering inside her chest.

She couldn’t be late. She was
never
late.

Maybe she should break a window and unlock the doors. But this was Daniel’s car, and she did not want to lose another vehicle. She could just imagine what her parents would say.

She checked her watch. She still had time to get to the Jamieson farm. She could walk to the nearest farmhouse and call Daniel or someone else to deliver an extra set of keys. She knew there were a few homes along this stretch of road, but couldn’t quite remember where she’d stopped on her journey. Things looked different standing on the shoulder.

Well, there was no use staying here.
When the horse dies, find a cow,
she told herself in
Poh-poh’
s sage voice. She pointed herself toward the Jamieson farm and started walking.

* * *

I
T WAS AFTER FIVE
when Chris walked into the house to grab a shower before his dinner date with Tiffany. He’d found himself whistling as he mounted the porch steps. He was looking forward to tonight. It had been a long time since he’d been out with other adults who weren’t members of his staff or family.

When he entered the dining room, all was silent—there was no sign of either Simon or his tutor. He asked his father if he’d seen or heard them come or go, but William merely shrugged, testily adding he didn’t come out of his office when “that woman” came over.

His father had been sulky ever since Chris had lectured him about his comments to Tiffany. William had insisted he’d been joking, and simply wouldn’t acknowledge how offensive he’d been.

“It’s not personal,” he’d argued. “And it’s not like I called her some of the things people used to call them. I was being downright friendly.”

“Dad, I don’t care. There’s a standard of behavior I expect from every member of my family and my staff, and I will not have that kind of willful ignorance influence my son.”

“So, I’m part of your staff now, am I? Why don’t you fire me, then?”

They’d left it at that. His father was too stubborn to ever apologize. He didn’t want to hear that he was wrong.

Chris left the house and found his son in the barn loft. The kittens swarmed around his lap as he scooped each one up in turn and set them on his shoulder, or rubbed his cheek against their purring, wriggling bodies. He smiled and made his way up the ladder. Simon glanced up.

“Where’s Tiffany?”

“She didn’t show.” He set the kitten down, and it scampered to where Shadow lay watching from the straw.

“Did you try calling her?”

Simon shot him a
duh
look. “Three times. There was no answer.”

Chris was immediately alarmed. “She’s over an hour late and you didn’t think to tell me?” A lot of things could happen on that long stretch of highway between here and town, and considering that wreck in Frank’s shop....

No, he was not about to think the worst.

Simon looked worried now, too. “Sorry, Dad. I just thought she was late. Maybe she’s still at the diner and forgot.” He sucked in a lip. “Do you think something happened?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he replied, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “Hey, how was your midterm?”

“It went okay. I’ll tell you about it later.” He’d sensed his father’s anxiety and urged him on with a nod.

Chris left the barn and dialed the Good Fortune on his cell. Perhaps she’d simply forgotten the time, or was bogged down at the diner, but that wasn’t likely. She always called if she thought she might be late, which she never was. By the time Daniel picked up, he was certain something had happened.

“Chris Jamieson here. We haven’t heard from Tiffany. Is she there?”

The long pause at the other end of the line had Chris’s heart racing. “She left over two hours ago.”

“Okay.” Blood pounded through his temples and cold fear raced through his system. He knew he was getting worked up, but he couldn’t help it. He pictured her bloodied by the side of the road and his skin prickled. “I’m going to drive out along Route 28. That’s the way she usually comes. She might have gotten a flat tire or something. My son tried to call her cell, but she’s not picking up. The battery could be dead.” His throat stuck on the last word.

“Let me know as soon as you hear anything. I can grab my dad’s van and meet you.” Daniel sounded as calm as a stone.

“All right. Keep your cell on.” He hung up and headed to his truck. Simon ran up to the driver’s-side window as he started the engine.

“What’s going on? Did you find her?”

“I’m going to see if she’s somewhere along the road. Her car might have had troubles.”

“You want me to come?” He looked anxious.

“No, stay here. Wait and see if she turns up or calls. Grandpa might not hear the phone.” Or he might ignore it. He screened his calls all the time. “I’ll call you as soon as I find her.”

Chris drove the route slowly, scanning the landscape for any sign of life. There were long stretches of road bordered on either side by tall, thick grasses, cornfields that could swallow cars and boggy, marshy ponds that could suck a man under without leaving a trace. Farther along, the dikes were steep enough that a car could roll down them. And there were all kinds of wildlife that could walk onto the road and startle drivers.

She didn’t get scared by a sleepy raccoon,
he told himself. People drove along this road all the time. If something had happened, she could wave someone down....

Which only opened his imagination to all the other unsavory possibilities.

He’d been driving for ten minutes with a hitchhiking serial killer starring in his waking nightmare when he spotted a lone figure walking along the unpaved shoulder. The figure paused, then started waving frantically with both arms. Her calves, bare beneath her modest gray skirt, and sandals were splattered with mud. Long strands of dark hair had escaped her ponytail, framing her reddened face. It must have been nearly ninety-five in this sun, and here she was walking without a hat or water or anything.

Chris pulled over, the tires sending up a spray of gravel, and he jumped out.

“Are you all right?” He ran to her, and before he even knew what he was doing, had thrown his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

She smelled like sweat and cooking oil mixed with coconut butter. Her dark, shiny hair was warm from the sun, and he automatically turned his nose into it, inhaling. She was small and firm and hot all over. His hands flexed and trailed along her sides.

She stiffened and jerked against him. “I’m fine.” Her sharp words were like a splash of cold water. He stepped away from her hastily as the fog lifted from his brain. The heat from her body clung to him tenaciously, and her cheeks were crimson-red. She was roasting out here.

“C’mon, get out of this sun. I have water in my truck.” He steered her toward the passenger-side door. Her steps faltered a little, and she stumbled before he caught her and practically carried her to the truck. Poor girl must be dehydrated. Only after she was in the shade and he’d opened a bottle of water for her from a case he kept in the backseat did he ask, “What happened? Where’s your car?”

“I stopped by the side of the road somewhere that way and got locked out.” She gestured vaguely behind her. She sipped the water slowly, eyes glazed and darting. “I thought I’d find a phone at one of the houses along the way. I didn’t realize those buildings were abandoned.”

“If you’re talking about the Guntersons’ farm, their house is way farther up the hill. The buildings nearer the road are storage houses.”

She nodded. “I started walking through their field, but I couldn’t find the farmhouse. Once I got back on the road, I figured it’d probably be easier to walk the rest of the way to your place.” She swiped at the dirt smudged over her legs, pursed her lips and sent him an arch look. “You live damn far. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“And here I thought New Yorkers walked everywhere.” He laughed weakly, still feeling giddy and light-headed with relief. “It doesn’t seem that far driving, but I wouldn’t try walking to town.”

“At least in New York, you can stop in a Starbucks for an iced tea every three blocks.” She squinted at the sun-drenched landscape. “There are also things we call sidewalks.” She looked down at her ruined sandals.

After a few minutes, her color had gone back to normal and her eyes cleared. “Let’s go see if we can do something about the car.” They got into his truck, and he started up the engine, blasting the air conditioner for Tiffany’s comfort. “What made you get out, anyhow? Flat tire? Bathroom emergency?”

“Nothing like that.” Her cheeks tinted pink, but she didn’t explain further.

She directed him to Daniel’s car, which she’d parked on the wide shoulder. He swung the truck around and pulled up behind it. There were no signs of any kind of accident. The keys were in the ignition, her purse on the seat.

He surveyed the car, hands on his hips. Tiffany was worrying her lower lip, drumming her fingers as she hugged her elbows. A slow, wry smile curved his lips as his gaze traveled from the car door to the girl who’d won the award for highest academic achievement in her class.

“I don’t suppose you know how to jimmy a car lock?” she asked hopefully.

“No.” He went to the rear passenger side door and opened it. “But I do know how to check all my doors before assuming I’m locked out.”

Tiffany stared. And stared. Slowly, her hands went to her face and she made a long, low moan.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B
Y THE TIME THEY GOT BACK
to the farm, there wasn’t much time to do any tutoring. Simon didn’t mind—he was simply glad she was all right. She called to assure Daniel that both she and his car were fine, then cleaned herself up in the bathroom. Chris gave her a towel so she could wash and dry her legs. She patted cold water on her flame-hot cheeks and touched up her makeup.

Perhaps it was simply embarrassment at her idiotic mistake that had her so flustered, but she knew all this flushing and stammering was her stupid body doing its best to get Chris’s attention.

She could still feel his steel-cable arms around her. He’d squeezed her so tight, it felt as if his heart had banged against her chest. She still smelled the earth and grass and his antiperspirant clinging to his skin. But instead of melting and leaning into his embrace, she’d frozen. She’d been so startled, all she could think at the time was that he needed to step away before she did something truly foolish...like fling her arms around him and cover him in kisses.

She glanced at Chris, relaxed and wearing a half smile as he pointed the 4x4 toward the restaurant. He was probably still chuckling at her mishap. That hug hadn’t meant anything to him, she told herself firmly. He’d showered and changed into a navy blue short-sleeve polo top and clean jeans, and his dark gold hair had been slicked away from his face. She kind of missed the hat, though.