The Bride Takes a Powder (5 page)

"I could find witnesses that
show I was here at the bar. My folks would know."

"They're too close to you. It
would be better if it were non-family members. But, you're getting the picture.
Start to figure it out."

He gave her an unhappy, defeated gaze.
"Sounds like lawyerly advice."

"This is all common sense."

"You're right. I need to get
more information."

"Okay, that's good then."
Don't dig yourself in, Norah.
"I'd
better go. It looks like it's getting busy again."

"Thanks for dropping by,
Norah. It's good to see you again. And I mean it. B Falls is usually a very
nice town." He held the door open for her. "Do you need an umbrella?
It's pouring."

"I've got a little one here."
She dug the mini out of her purse and, with that, headed out into the heavy
downpour. Racing the block to her house, she took refuge on the big front
porch. Good Lord, she'd never seen so much rain. The center of town was on an
elevation and the rain flowed along the curbs downward into the Falls River.
She could hear the gurgling, racing roar of water through the pounding torrents
from above even from across the street where the house stood.

In her wildest imagination who
would have thought she'd run into someone from college? Mike Banning had sure
changed. She chuckled to herself. Yeah, he'd been a bit nerdy looking back then,
but now he was gorgeous. And had some serious problems that were none of her
business just as hers were none of his.

Chapter Four

Norah smiled a greeting when her
landlady climbed the porch steps right behind her.

Jan tipped her head toward the
front door. "Norah, do you have time to come inside for a hot cup of tea?
You look like you need it."

"Yes, thank you. I'd love it."
As she followed Jan through the house she admired the lovely restored wooden
moldings and floors. It looked as if all the work had been meticulously done.

"I'll get some water heating."

"The weather changes every
minute, it seems. It was beautiful earlier. Fresh and springy." Norah took
a chair at the kitchen table. "Now it's chilly."

Jan turned from the stove. "Oh,
we don't have to stay here. It's just the kitchen."

"I don't mind it." Norah
gazed around the space. "It's so cozy and old-fashioned looking."

"Old-fashioned as in just
plain old, yes." But Jan's smile was contented.

Norah grinned agreeably. "I
meant comfortable and homey. I love it here."

Jan nodded. "I'm glad. I love
it too." Then she set about arranging tea mugs and a plate of homemade
cookies on the table.

"This is a beautiful old
house. Can you tell me the history of it? Are you a McMillan?"

"No. We bought the house ten
years ago from the last of that family. It's such a fixture in town that when I
decided to make the upper floor an apartment, I decided to use the McMillan
name just to give it some interesting pizazz."

"Were you born and raised
here?"

Jan shook her head. "My
husband and I moved to town when he got a job at the paper." She tilted
her head and took a shaky breath. "He's gone now. Died about a year later."

"I'm so sorry. You must have
been very young."

"Yes, I was widowed at
thirty-one. I bought this house with the life insurance."

Norah had no idea what to say.
There were obviously sadder stories than hers. "When did you start renting
out the top floor?"

"About five years ago. It
helps with expenses."

"Did you remodel the main
floor like upstairs?"

"Not quite. Most of the house
is original, the woodwork, fireplace and so forth. I updated the two full
bathrooms down here and did some work here in the kitchen, electrical and
plumbing, cleaned up the cupboards, and refinished the hardwood floor. But I
tried to keep visible changes as close to the age of the house as I could.
Except I wanted modern appliances and marble countertops."

"Sounds like a heck of a lot
of work. Like an HGTV series."

"Yeah, but I loved doing it."
Jan replenished their tea with more hot water and fresh tea bags.

"What about a social life in
this small town?"

"Do you mean do I date?"
She smiled.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my
business."

"That's okay. Pickings are
kind of slim in B Falls, but I have a lot of friends. I haven't found anyone I
like as much as my husband."

Norah reached across the table and
patted Jan's arm. "It can be hard to find a good one, I know."

"Is that what you're doing in
town?" Jan gazed curiously at her. "Now it's my turn to ask
questions."

Norah stared into her teacup, took
a breath, and admitted, "I just broke up with someone." Then as if a
floodgate opened, she continued, "On my wedding day."

Jan's mouth opened comically. "Holy
crap!"

"No kidding. The good part is
that I didn't make a big mistake. But now I need to reorganize—" She
frowned and gazed swiftly toward the window over the sink. "—reconstruct
my life."

"You will. If you ever want to
talk, you know where I live." This time Jan patted
her
arm.

Meeting her new friend's gaze, she
said, "Thanks. I might take you up on that."

"B Falls is a nice place to
live even though there's talk of a scandal at the high school."

"I read about that."

"I know Mike Banning wouldn't
be part of it."

"Really?" Funny out of
all the names in the article, Jan mentioned the only person she knew.

"He's the most sincere, truly
nice guy. If you're ever in Ollie's, you'd meet him."

"I actually have. You're the
second person to vouch for him. And I agree. He does seem very nice."
Which was putting it mildly. "I met someone named Phoebe at the grocery
store this morning. She was the one who had good words to say about Mike."

"Oh yes, Phoebe's husband and
Mike went to high school together and are very good friends."

"Phoebe invited me tomorrow
night to hear her sing."

"She has such great talent. It
was wonderful that Marc came back here to live and brought her back with him."

Norah heard her phone chirp. At
first her heart skipped a beat. It was too early to hear back from the doctor.
That was her first thought. But no, it wasn't the doctor. It was Garrett's
mother's number showing up on the screen. Wishing she could ignore it, she
figured it would be better to talk to her and get it over with. His mother was
a bulldog and would keep calling. In fact, she was surprised Francine Dunleith
hadn't called earlier than this. "I need to take this call. I'm sorry."

Jan held up a hand. "No
problem. Go ahead."

"Hello, Francine," said Norah
as she walked out of the kitchen and headed up to her apartment for this very
private conversation.

"Norah, I'm just going to say
I'm sorry Garrett acted as he did, but you didn't need to call off the wedding."

"Are you kidding me?"
Norah replied, putting ice in her tone. "He wasn't even at the church. He
was at the police station. Even if I still wanted to marry him, at that point
he would have been hours late to the ceremony. And while I'm at it, there's no
way I would have anything to do with him after knowing he'd been with other
women. Especially the night before our wedding!"

"He loves you, Norah."
Francine's voice was very low as if she knew she was on the losing side of the
argument.

"I wonder if he ever did."

"Where are you?" Francine
demanded.

"I'm not going to tell you. My
folks don't know either. I don't know what I'm going to do now but am in no
hurry to make any decisions." Norah began her goodbye but had one more
thing to say. "For your information, I'm being tested for STDs in case
your son gave me anything. Believe me, I could kill him for his cheating and
putting me in danger like this. I will never forgive him."

Before she hung up, Francine, still
subdued, said she was sorry.

Yeah,
sorry. Everyone is sorry except Garrett.
Not that she wanted to talk to him
but she decided she'd answer the next time he texted or phoned. And she'd blast
him. Her head pounded with anger and frustration. Swallowing three aspirins
with a tall glass of water, she proceeded to pace the small apartment for several
minutes until the medication began to work through her bloodstream and calm
her.

***

Pausing inside Marietty's entrance,
she narrowed her gaze to adjust to the dim interior. She hadn't been sure how
you dressed for a small town nightclub. Settling for her default casual uniform
of skinny jeans, stilettos, and silk blouse, she then threw on a wool blazer
since the temperature had dropped again. Not in any big hurry, she'd strolled
along the Falls River where a lovely wide walkway was lined with iron benches,
bushes, and flower beds. Circles of light from picturesque old-fashioned
looking lamps lit beds of yellow tulips bordered by multicolored early petunias
and impatiens. With all the rain, the river had risen and water lapped at the
shore sometimes spraying up over the rocky banks propelled by gusts of wind.
She had to time her steps in order to keep her feet from getting wet.

The misting and humidity in the air
played hell with her hair. Brushing her fingers through the short strands and
lifting them away from her scalp put the hair back in order, damp but in place.
She smiled wryly and shrugged. Who was there to impress? Garrett had always
been so concerned about how she looked, wanting her makeup and hair to be
perfect. He was very fashion conscious too, never out in public in anything
other than expensive clothing, and she'd grown to follow his example. When had
she become such a sheep?

For the moment she'd forgotten,
then reality hit. She'd run away from her groom and her wedding, her
long-planned expensive society wedding.
I'm
a runaway bride just like the movie. Except I rode a train instead of a horse.
No one knew where she was. Her folks only knew she was okay, not her location.
She was utterly on her own. Lifting a hand to push away a strand of hair
tickling her cheek snapped her from her brooding. She'd arrived at the
nightclub, and a dry doorway opened right in front of her. Perfect timing.

A tall gorgeous guy with a big
smile approached her. Wow, were all the men in this town hunks?

He smiled and nodded. "Are you
Norah Ballard?"

Her heart jumped. She'd never seen
this man so how could he know who she was? Had her picture been on TV or
online?

"Marc Rahn." He held out
his hand. "Phoebe's husband. She wanted me to watch out for you. Tall,
blonde, and pretty. Those were her words, not that I don't agree…" His
voice petered out, then he laughed. "Sorry, I'm being an idiot."

Grasping his hand, she laughed
along with him. "Yes, I'm Norah." Unbelievably gorgeous, he had a
military bearing but without the short hair. Phoebe said he was a cop, and he
certainly looked that part.

"Come on," he said, his
lips tipped up, his pale eyes twinkling. "I'll take you to the table."

He led and they wove their way
through the standing-room-only crowd, past the bar to a round table in front of
the stage where several people were already seated. The men stood, Marc pulled
out a chair for her and asked, "Norah, what can I get you to drink?"

Checking out what was already on
the table, she said, "Draft is fine." Mike was next to her and looked
mighty gorgeous. A long-sleeved Henley hugged a muscular chest, broad
shoulders, a flat stomach, and was tucked into slim-fitting jeans. She gave a
general smile to the group and, suddenly feeling awkward, turned her attention
to the stage.

Wow!
Phoebe perched on a stool in the curve of a black baby grand and began singing
Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay
. She had
a husky sexy voice you wouldn't think could come out of a petite pregnant
woman. She was good. Very good. And she'd given up a career in Chicago to come
back to this tiny town? But then, if that guy was her husband, Norah could see
why Phoebe wouldn't pass him up.

At the end of the number, when
everyone was applauding and whistling, Norah surreptitiously glanced around the
table at what appeared to be an interesting group. Next to Mike was the guy
from that first night, the reporter, as well as another man and a woman.

Mike leaned in and whispered into
her ear, "Welcome to the second best bar in B Falls."

Her eyes reflexively closed as his
smoothly shaven cheek brushed hers, and his warm breath wafted across her
cheek. Then her breath caught, her eyes popping open with the shock of
electricity racing from her ear and raising all the little hairs on the back of
her neck. She'd already thought him handsome and hunky, tall and so broad
shouldered. Masculine. He smelled divine. Whatever cologne he wore had just
become her favorite fragrance.

Pulling back, he began to introduce
the others.

What a strong reaction to him she
was having.
Come on, girl.
She
struggled to collect her emotions.
This
kind of thing doesn't happen to you. You've been reading too much of that
romance novel you bought.

"This is Moira Logan, Davy
Marsh, and Stu Pressman. Folks, this lady is new in town. Norah Ballard."

How
is it that Mike's sitting next to and appears to be friendly with the reporter?
She smiled, though and lifted a hand in greeting at the choruses of hi from
around the table. Marc returned and handed her a frosty stein of beer. "Thanks."
Taking a sip, she smiled up at him. "That's really good."

"It's a Belgian beer, Delirium
Tremens," he said as he took a seat between Moira and Davy at the table.

She lifted the mug in a toast then
smiled her pleasure at the first strains of Phoebe's next number. Sneaking a
quick peek at Mike, she caught him watching her. Curiosity, interest,
attraction—a responsive heat smoothed over her skin, and she snapped her gaze back
to the cold amber brew. The song's intoxicating romantic lyrics were enchanting
in a way new to her, a scary way. Shouldn't she have felt this kind of sizzle
for Garrett, for his body? Racking her brain, she tried to remember how it had
been between them in the beginning. And couldn't.