morning isn’t good for me. I’m in the middle of serving brunch to my guests.”
Diana looked shocked. “You’ll just have to arrange something, Ellen! That’s the earliest appointment Dwight could give me! We need to get moving! It takes time to organize these things!”
“But I—”
“And speaking of your guests, what’s this I hear about Simon Riley actually staying at your house?”
“What?” Brad spun around and stared at her.
Diana folded her arms over her ample bosom. “I assumed that Bea Campbell had gotten her facts wrong. I never believe gossip.”
Ellen cleared her throat. “Uh, well, actually, it’s…true.”
The silence that followed her words made her feel as cold and transparent as one of those diamonds, caught in a relentless golden prong. “He arrived right before teatime,” she said, with false bravado. “A room opened up this morning, so I, uh, checked him in.” She sneaked a glance at Brad’s face. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple.
Diana cleared her throat. “Well. All the more reason for you to be done with this hotel business. What was your mother thinking?”
“Mother has nothing to do with it,” Ellen snapped. “I am an adult, and I have a living to make.”
“And if she knew you let trash like that into her family home?”
Brad opened the passenger door and made a curt gesture towards Ellen. “Get in. We need to talk.”
Ellen clutched the seat as they swooped around the curves of the twisting road over the bluffs. Brad pulled into the over-flow parking lot below Kent House, but as she reached for the door handle, the automatic locks slammed down with a menacing thunk.
“Hold it,” Brad said. “You need to explain yourself to me.”
“Simon happens to be my friend,” she said quietly.
Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Just how good a ‘friend’ is he?”
Ellen rubbed her pounding temples. “I haven’t seen him for years, Brad. Don’t start.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. It’s not possible for you to be my fiancée and Simon Riley’s ‘friend’ at the same time. He leaves. Today. Is that clear?”
“No. It is not clear.” Ellen’s chin lifted. “I will not throw him out.”
Brad unlocked his door and got out. “I’m going to come in and have a talk with your ‘friend.’”
“He’s not here.” She slammed the car door shut. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she headed to the steps. “He went out.”
“Where did he go?”
“How should I know? To a restaurant, I expect.”
She was all the way up the steps before she noticed that Brad was no longer following her.
“I meant every word I said, Ellen,” he warned. “Riley leaves.”
She spun around. The pressure that had been building inside her all day suddenly broke its bounds. “That is enough!”
Brad stared at her, blank with astonishment.
“I have been pushed around enough for one evening!” she yelled.
“I’m not pushing you around.” Brad’s self-righteous tone grated her raw nerves. “If you would calm down, you would understand—”
“I don’t want to understand!” she bellowed. “I have a headache!”
Brad looked as horrified as if she had sprouted a physical deformity. “God, Ellen! What’s wrong with you? You are screaming!”
She stopped herself, clenched her shaking hands and tried to breathe. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go lie down for a while. Have a nice evening. Thanks for the ring.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome,” he muttered.
His door slammed. The car slewed around in the gravel and roared away. Ellen gasped and coughed in the choking cloud of dust.
Chapter 4
Simon stared down at his half-eaten steak. It was tender and flavorful, but it didn’t tempt him. He was being about as entertaining as a bump on a log for his old friend Cora. He’d run into her today while washing his clothes at her laundromat, and had mistakenly thought that having company tonight might cheer him up. Big mistake.
He took a swallow of his beer. “Sorry, Cor. I’m not very good company tonight.”
Cora rested her chin on her cupped hands. “That’s OK,” she said gently. “You’re hung up on Ellen, aren’t you?”
“Nah, she’s just an old friend. It’s not like that.”
The people at the next table were staring at him. He recognized Willard Blair, and his wife Mae Ann. They were giving him a fishy look.
A vague memory took form in Simon’s mind. An illicit tractor race on Willard’s property that had ended badly. Considerable property damage had been involved. The devil in him gave them a big, cheeky grin. He toasted them, lifting his beer mug high.
Willard and his wife broke eye contact quickly.
“Just a friend, huh?” Cora’s voice was ironic. “So it’s no big deal to you, then, that she’s engaged to Brad Mitchell?”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “She deserves better.”
“Right.” Cora stole one of his French fries and dipped it into his ketchup. “And the fact that she’s got tons of curly blonde hair, big, brown eyes, perfect tits, legs to die for? All that’s irrelevant to you?”
“Come on, Cora,” he said sourly. “There’s more to it than that.”
Her dimples flashed. “Then you’re not like most men I know.”
“That’s probably true,” he said. “Unfortunately.”
Cora’s sharp eyes made him uncomfortable. He gazed out into the restaurant at the other diners. His breath froze in his lungs as he recognized Eddie Webber, his best friend from high school.
Eddie had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’d been willing to hang out with Simon when not many others would, and Simon had been grateful for his friendship. At least he had been until that fateful night seventeen years ago.
It was Eddie who had been the source of all those firecrackers the group of guys had shot off at the Mitchell Stables. Before they all ran off and left him alone to take the blame for a fire he didn’t start.
Eddie was eating barbecued ribs. He’d gained a lot of weight, and
