Belonging (11 page)

Her assistant laughed once more, a sound that
migta have been a giggle, coming from anyone else. "Sure you do. I
got quite a kick out of it myself."

Giggling. Humming. Was Blair Andrews's story
responsible? It was strange. Very strange. Georgia normally had
no more love for Blair than she did.

Angie had little time to wonder, however, as
Georgia had reached for the newspaper once more. Folding it, she
thrust it back onto Angie's desk and stabbed a finger at the bold
dark print in one corner.

"Read," she commanded. Feeling distinctly
apprehensive, Angie picked up the newspaper. The article was part
of a weekly column that touched on a variety of social
items—birthday and anniversary parties, school proms and plays, who
was off for his latest trip to Europe, and so forth. A people
notebook of sorts.

Topping the list was last Friday night's
get-together for Matt Richardson. Angie's eyes were immediately
glued to the feature.

Everyone who is anyone in our fair city was
on hand to welcome Matthew Richardson, newly hired chief of police,
at a reception in his honor last Friday night at the Sheraton.
Particularly welcoming was Mayor Angela Hall. One can't help but
wonder about the subject under discussion during their midnight
tete-a-tete
on the terrace. Could it be that our mayor,
normally seen on the arm of City Manager Todd Austin, likes to keep
things all in the family? Stay tuned for the latest on Ms Mayor and
the Chief.

Angie's fingers tightened on the edges of the
paper before her eyes flashed accusingly upward. "You think this is
funny?" she asked Georgia in a gritty tone.

The answer was obvious in Georgia's delighted
cackle. "All I want to know," she responded cheerfully, "is
whether it's true or not."

"Oh, it's true, all right," chimed a
masculine voice from the doorway. "Ask her fellow partner in
crime."

Both women looked up at the same time to see
Matt Richardson standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he
leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb.

Georgia spoke first. "You mean you really—"
she , broke off and turned to Angie "—and you..." Her voice trailed
off, and she looked at Matt once more.

The sight of unflappable Georgia gaping at
Matt would have amused Angie under any other circumstances. But
she was too busy fuming at the room's other occupant to notice.
-

"Unfortunately," Matt added, his eyes never
leaving Angie's face, "Miss Andrews has a rather vivid
imagination. Her speculation is just that—speculation. Mayor Hall
and I may have had a melding of minds that night, but certainly not
a melding of hearts." Yet, he amended silently.

It wasn't, perhaps, the most prudent choice
of words. Matt could tell by the way Angie glowered at him. He had
a hard time holding back a smile and felt his spirits lift for the
first time since Saturday. She wore a powder-blue suit that
enhanced the translucent quality of her eyes. Would she have worn
it, he wondered, if she knew how utterly feminine it made her look?
But the glacial frost that radiated from across the room continued
in full force.

This time he knew better, though. He'd
already had a glimpse of the woman beneath the cool exterior, and
she wasn't the cold, hard creature she appeared to be— no matter
how hard she tried to convince him.

"Anybody home in there?"

The cheerful voice came from the outer
office. Matt stepped aside to allow Georgia to pass through the
doorway. Angie followed when she heard Georgia greet Sam
Nelson.

"Why, Sam, how nice to see you!" Angie's
voice was warm, her smile wide when she spotted Matt's predecessor
near Georgia's desk. Seeing Matt looking on from the doorway, she
quickly introduced the men. While the two exchanged pleasantries,
she was very conscious of the dissimilarities between them. She'd
always thought of Sam, with his ruddy cheeks, silver- streaked
chestnut hair and rotund stomach, as being the teddy-bear type.
Next to Matt's imposing height and build, the impression seemed
more marked than ever.

"What brings you back, Sam?" she asked with a
laugh. "After a week of retirement, did you decide the easy life
wasn't for you after all?" She glanced covertly at Matt. "Don't
tell me—you're here to get your job back."

Sam grinned. "Not much chance of that. No,
retirement suits me just fine. Except it gets a little lonesome
sometimes." He winked at Georgia. "That's why I came to carry this
little lady off to lunch. You don't mind if I keep her out a few
minutes late, do you?"

Angie's eyes widened, then settled on her
assistant. "No. No, not at all." Her voice was faint. "Stay as long
as you like."

Sam had already handed Georgia her sweater.
For the first time she noticed Georgia's wine-colored dirndl skirt
actually complemented the soft rose of her blouse. Georgia wearing
clothes that didn't resemble something pulled off a scarecrow...
Georgia humming...

Georgia had a beau, and from the way Sam was
smiling at her and she was simpering back as they went out the
door, it wasn't something that had sprung up overnight.

"Is this your usual reaction when someone
spirits your secretary off for lunch?" Matt's voice was filled with
humor.

Angie didn't realize her mouth had dropped
open until she felt a lean finger beneath her chin urged it gently
upward.

She was a little hurt that Georgia hadn't
told her about Sam, but remembering the smile that wreathed
Georgia's face at his attentions, she couldn't help but be glad for
her, as well. But she was still too stunned by what had happened to
be thinking clearly.

"It's just that Georgia... well, Georgia
doesn't like men!" Angie blurted the words before she even
realized it.

"Hmm. Must be something about this
office."

She flushed at the unwelcome reminder. She
realized she'd been nursing a half-hearted hope that seeing Matt
in a business light, rather than a personal one, would quell the
uneasy reaction he always managed to rouse in her. But it appeared
that wasn't the case.

"You wanted to see me about something?" She
strived for a polite note.

"I'm here at your summons. Remember?"

A sheepish expression flitted across Angie's
face and she nodded, then turned to lead the way into her
office.

"It is lunchtime." Matt's reminder came just
as she sat down in her chair. "Shall we see to our stomachs first?
We could go to that restaurant across the street."

"No." She shook her head quickly. "I.. .1
really have a lot of work to do." Reaching out, she straightened a
stack of papers, as if to lend credence to her words.

"I thought you might say that," he said
dryly. "That's why I came prepared." He disappeared into the outer
office. When he returned a few seconds later, he was carrying a
small paper sack. "
Voila
!" He held it up with a smile.
"Lunch is served." Pulling out two plastic-wrapped sandwiches, he
asked, "Ham or turkey?"

"Ham." She relented with a faint smile. She
couldn't find it in herself to argue with him, especially since the
sandwich he handed her looked rather good, and it tasted even
better.

Matt pulled a chair up to her desk. "Well,
here we are again," he commented lightly. "Alone at last. Shall we
call Blair Andrews to take notes this time?"

"And ruin a perfectly good lunch? Please,
show a little mercy!"

There it was again. That spark of humor that
so entranced him. Matt shared in her amusement then grew more
serious. "Did her column this morning really bother you that
much?"

Angie sighed. "It did," she admitted, "but to
tell you the truth...well, it doesn't anymore." She paused. "I
guess I'm just a little on the sensitive side when it comes to
publicity, especially when Blair Andrews is the author," she
confided with a soft laugh.

Matt shrugged and carefully unwrapped the
other half of his sandwich. Her statement was more telling than she
knew, and he was just beginning to understand that Angie Hall was
an intensely private person. Was it because her job sometimes
placed her under scrutiny from the public? Somehow he didn't think
so.

There was much that he wanted to discover
about her, but he knew that he would have to take things slowly
with her. Deliberately he changed the subject.

"What was it you wanted to see me about?" He
pared a slice of tart green apple and offered it to her.

She took it, munching thoughtfully for a
moment. "You're aware of the problem we're having regarding city
hall? Whether to rebuild completely or renovate instead?"

"Rumors abound in these hallowed halls," he
remarked dryly. "And I heard you mention it at your press
conference last week."

Angie nodded. The press conference and the
ensuing exchange in this very office with this very man weren't
something she cared to rehash. She went on quickly, "The
committee's recommendation is in, and they feel renovation is the
better approach. I tend to agree."

Matt looked rather puzzled.

"It's not something that's wholly up to me.
The council has to vote on it," she explained. "And while the cost
differential between the two is certainly there, I've made a
proposal regarding the expenditure of the excess funds."

"Oh, yes." Matt tipped his head to the side.
"Some kind of social program, isn't it?"

"Partially. We'd also like to expand the
transit system." Rising, Angie moved to look out at the small
square of lawn below her window. "As for the other, that's where
you come in, Matt." His name slipped so easily off her tongue. She
went on, "Westridge has a city-operated center for senior citizens,
and we cooperate with the county in coordinating programs for
juvenile delinquents." Her next words came with far more
difficulty. "I was thinking in terms of some type of women's
center, something that offers temporary shelter to women who need
it, with counseling perhaps for rape victims and..." She faltered
and suddenly became aware that her skin was clammy, her hands
gripped tightly together.

"And assault victims, battered wives, that
type of thing?"

Angie's heart gave a betraying lurch, but she
swallowed and tried for an even tone. She even managed to turn and
face him. "What do you think, Matt? Is there a need here in
Westridge for something like that?"

"It's a crime that there isn't one already.
We hear so much about victim's rights and restitution these days
that I just assumed..." He looked up at her, his expression grim.
"A lot of rapes and cases of abuse are never prosecuted because
they're never reported. The ongoing support of a crisis center can
sometimes change that." He shook his head disbelievingly. "I don't
see how Westridge has managed without one for this long. It's not
the type of problem that's confined solely to large metropolitan
areas."

"The idea surfaced several years ago when I
was a member of the city council, but nothing ever came of it,
despite the fact that Sam Nelson was behind it all the way. Money
was tight then, and neither one of us carried enough clout to get
it approved." Her tone was somber. "Even now the response has been
lukewarm. But if the endorsement for a new city hall comes through
and funds are earmarked for that, I'm afraid money will once again
be a problem."

For a moment she was torn between conflicting
emotions. Granted, the existence of a women's shelter at the time
of her marriage probably wouldn't have changed a thing. But it
might have made life a little easier if only she'd had someone to
talk to, someone who understood her confusion.

It was shame that held her back then, and it
was shame that held her back now. She despised herself for being so
cowardly. Her thoughts grew bitter as her gaze dropped. She stared
numbly down at her hands.

No, it could never be known that Angie Hall,
solid citizen, respected mayor of Westridge, had been abused by her
husband. She would probably be accused of a private crusade. But
wasn't that what this was?

In a way it was, she acknowledged silently.
But not completely. It was a community need, one that Matt
recognized, as well.

Taking a deep breath, she took her place
behind her desk once more. "So." Her tone was brisk, and she forced
a smile. "You don't mind if I quote you on that, do you?"

"Not at all," he said firmly. "I think I can
even manage to gather a few supporting facts and figures before
tonight. I can have Margie bring them by later this afternoon."

When he stood up, the warmth in her smile and
voice were genuine. "Thanks, Chief," she said softly. She gestured
at the remains of their lunch stuffed back into the paper bag.
"Next time lunch is on me."

"Bribery, Ms Mayor?" His voice feigned shock,
but his eyes were dancing. "Don't worry. I won't tell if you
won't."

Angie found she was still smiling after he
left. Oddly enough, the tension between them seemed to have eased,
although for the most part she suspected it had been rather
one-sided in the first place.

Her good humor didn't last more than a few
minutes after his departure, though. Todd knocked on the door,
then stepped inside, shutting it behind him. He was impeccably
dressed as usual in a three-piece camel- colored suit, starched
white shirt and polished leather shoes. Fastidious to a fault, his
brown hair lay neatly on his head, not a single strand out of
place.

"Well, I certainly am popular today." Her
welcoming smile faded as she caught sight of his handsome features
drawn into a tight-lipped expression. "You just got back from
vacation," she chided gently. "You're supposed to be all smiles and
full of news about the fun you had—"

"News? I'm full of news, all right. About you
and our new police chief." His tone, for all its quietness, held a
bitter note. "He moves rather quickly, wouldn't you say?" He halted
directly in front of her, placed his palms flat on her desktop and
glared at her. "I think I deserve an explanation."