have driven her little car to church, but she knew there would be no parking left. And now, by the time she’d cut through the neighborhood and walked up the front steps of the church, she could hear the congregation inside already singing and she quietly slipped into the empty pew in the rear, fumbling a hymnal out of the rack. She dropped it and it thudded loudly on the floor just as the music ended.
It seemed as if half the town turned to look and see who’d made the racket. She smiled weakly and sat, feeling around with her hand for the hymnal, but it seemed to have scooted up under the pew ahead of her.
She still felt eyes watching her, and she wished that she’d just taken the hint when the dryer died and stayed home.
Except if she hadn’t shown up at church the way she had done every Sunday of every month of every year she’d lived in Weaver, she’d have ten people trooping by her house later to find out why.
After she’d come down with the flu last year when Ruby was in Washington visiting Justine, Hope’s visitors had brought homemade soup and fresh flowers and crossword puzzles. She didn’t think having visitors this time would be such a blessing.
The hairs on her neck prickled.
She blinked and saw Jolie staring at her pointedly from her seat on the aisle a few pews ahead. Hope frowned, shaking her head slightly.
Jolie rolled her eyes and subtly jabbed her thumb out. Hope followed the direction and stared, stunned at the sight of Tristan sitting there in church. There was no mistaking the back of his head; she’d never known anyone with hair that brilliantly golden.
She hurriedly closed her mouth and glanced at Jolie. Her friend was smiling, knowingly. Hope frowned at her, hoping Jolie could read her expression that there was no earthly reason to connect Hope with Tristan’s once-in-a-blue-moon appearance at worship.
Feet shuffled and Hope dragged her attention to the service, as she stood with the rest of the congregation and read the gospel lesson. But her mind wasn’t on the words. It was on the man three rows ahead of her.
When the service was winding down nearly an hour later, Hope’s attention still remained on Tristan. He hadn’t turned around once to see her, and she told herself that she was relieved.
But she was sitting in church, and the lie tore at her. When the congregation rose once again to sing the last hymn, Hope quietly backed out of the church. If she ended up with calls from Gram and others that afternoon, it would be better than standing there visiting after the service, pretending that she didn’t care two hoots that Tristan was around.
She pressed her hand to her forehead. She was a blooming fool, that’s what she was. Creating ridiculous fantasies in her head.
Standing just outside the church doors, Tris watched Hope scurry away. It was definitely becoming too familiar a sight, he decided. He stopped and greeted the minister briefly, complimenting the man on his sermon even though he would’ve been pressed to recall the topic. He’d been too preoccupied with the young woman who’d sneaked in late to sit a few rows behind him.
“Guess no good deed goes unpunished,” Sawyer said softly, mockingly, behind him.
Tris slid his sunglasses on and ignored his brother. So what if he’d come to church only in the hopes of catching Hope for a minute or two? What was more above-board than running into each other at church?
“Tristan, you’re welcome to join us for dinner this afternoon,” said Rebecca, repeating the invitation that he’d already declined once. “I know Ryan wants to have a chance to talk your ear off about his new computer.”
Tris tugged on the bill of Ryan’s ball cap. “Maybe later. But don’t hold up the meal if I don’t show.”
Ryan grinned and darted off to join his friend. Sawyer slid his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders and snorted softly. “Tris, if your rental car is seen in town anywhere this afternoon other than at our place, the remaining half of this town that hasn’t been talking about your stroll down the street with Hope yesterday, will be. Leave her alone.”
“Sawyer, don’t pick on Tristan like that.”
“He’s a big boy, Bec, and you don’t know what he’s like with women.”
Tristan’s good humor was fading fast. “And you’re so sure you know?” he asked Sawyer. “I thought you were a big believer in the innocent-’til-proven theory.”
“You haven’t been innocent since you were fifteen,” Sawyer replied dryly. “You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do no matter what anyone says. Just…remember where you are.”
Rebecca was making a face. “Sawyer’s a fine one to talk.” She stretched up and kissed Tristan’s cheek. “Maybe we’ll see you later,” she said calmly, then looked at her husband. “Ryan is going home with Eric for a while,” she said softly.
Despite his annoyance, Tris felt a smile tug at him as Sawyer cast his wife a long look, then smiled slowly as they walked away. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and started toward the small, still-congested lot. Most of the cars belonged to people who’d driven in from the outlying areas, since the town itself was small enough to walk pretty well anywhere.
But, as he approached his car, he realized that a van parked crookedly in the lot was responsible for the holdup. He shook his head faintly and cut between two pickups. He wanted to go by Hope’s place. Maybe he could talk her into going for a drive. They could invite Drew and his wife if it would put Hope more at ease. He knew she and Jolie were friends—
“Mr. Clay, is it true that you and Ms. Leoni are living together?”
He jerked around, gravel grinding under his boot and came face-to-face with a microphone and an enormous camera. “What the hell?” The microphone shoved closer and he pushed it away. “Get out of my face.”
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