eventually, but she’d decided to put it off till another day. She still felt drained after her visit to the cemetery; and her confrontation with Matt last night hadn’t helped.
Nor had it helped when he’d pulled her into his arms.
For a moment—only a moment though it had seemed like an eternity—she’d allowed herself the luxury of leaning on him. But when he’d offered, in that husky sexy voice, to help her, to do anything—
His words had jerked her back to reality as surely as if he’d slapped her face.
She could not depend on this man. And she must never forget it.
Picking up her step, she was almost at the corner of the block, when a sudden squeal of tires grabbed her attention. A white Honda Civic had braked in the road just ahead…and was backing up toward her.
When it stopped, she saw that the driver was a woman—a stranger wearing a floral dress, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses that hid her eyes.
“Beth?” The car window was open, the woman’s tone high with astonishment. “Beth Rossiter? Is it really you?”
Liz frowned. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, walking over to the car. “I don’t—”
The stranger’s laugh gurgled out. “Oh, Beth. It’s me!” She whisked off her hat and her sunglasses and tossed them onto the passenger seat. “There, is that better?” She ruffled a hand through her short brown hair and poked her head out the window. “Recognize me now?”
It was Molly White. Liz felt a surge of delight. She and Molly had been buddies all the way up through school until they were fourteen, at which time Molly’s father—a policeman—had been transferred to Vancouver and the family had moved away. She and Molly had lost touch after that.
“Molly!” Leaning over, she brushed a kiss over her friend’s warm cheek, and smelled her light floral fragrance. “It’s wonderful to see you again. When did you come back to Tradition? And how have you been, what are you doing now?”
“It’s a long story and I’d love for us to get together and catch up on each other’s news but I don’t have time right now. I’m on my way home to rescue a roast from the oven. I’m making a special lunch for my crew.”
“Your crew?”
“I’m a widow, with two little boys. And—” Molly’s cheeks colored prettily “—there’s a man in my life—you wouldn’t know him, he was three years ahead of us in high school.” She didn’t wait for Liz to respond, but just barreled on. “Anyway, he and I have been seeing each other for a while now and we have an…understanding. And before very long, I expect—” She broke off with a vexed “Tsk!” And gushed on, “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that! Matt—Matt Garvock, that’s his name—prob’ly wouldn’t want me to be talking about it. Not yet. You won’t say anything to a soul, will you?”
Liz hoped she didn’t look as numb as she felt. “No,” she somehow managed to say, “I won’t say a word.” Molly and Matt. Molly was the woman he’d been with in the park, though Liz hadn’t recognized her at the time.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it!” Molly set the Honda in motion again, and as she pulled away she called back merrily, “Give me a call, Beth, my number’s in the book. It’s under my married name…Martin. Molly Martin. We’ll have coffee together soon…and by then I should have some lovely news to share with you!”
Matt took off his suit jacket and slung it over one of the Adirondack chairs arranged on Molly’s front veranda. Then tugging open the top button of his dress shirt, he loosened the knot of his tie as he followed the boys into the house.
Iain and Stuart ran upstairs to change out of their best clothes, and Matt went looking for Molly.
He followed the aroma of roasting beef and found her in the kitchen, pouring gravy into a gravy boat.
“Hi,” he said. “We’re back.”
She turned, and he saw that her face was flushed from the heat of the oven. She set the gravy boat on the table, and said, “You’ll never guess what happened on my way home!”
“You got a ticket for speeding?” he teased.
“If I did, it would be a first! No, Matt. I was driving along Fourth when I spotted a friend I hadn’t seen in…oh, must be close to sixteen years! She’d changed a bit…but I knew her by the way she walked…that hadn’t changed. And her legs, of course! Beth Rossiter always did have the most fabulous legs. In high school, we were all pea-green with envy! Anyway,” she said, beaming at him, “you’ll meet her soon because—”
“I’ve met her, Molly.”
Molly did a double take. “You have? But…where?”
He should have told her yesterday and he could kick himself now that he hadn’t. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been plenty opportunity. They’d been together all day—first at the baseball game, then after Iain’s chess lesson he’d driven them all the fifty miles to Crestville for the Farmers’ Fair, and they hadn’t got back till late evening.
“Matt? Do you know Beth Rossiter?”
“Honey, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Her brow wrinkled, and she looked at him as if she didn’t quite understand what he’d said.
“At the church,” he reminded her. “When I told you I needed to talk to you? It was about—”
“About Beth?”
He couldn’t understand why she suddenly looked so disappointed. What had she thought he wanted to discuss with her?
“Liz,” he said. “She goes by the name of Liz now. She turned up at Laurel House on Friday night. She didn’t know her father had died…didn’t know he’d sold the family home.”
“Oh, my! What a dreadful shock she must have had when you told her—although, as I recall, she and her father didn’t get along at all well. He was a frightful man, prone to the most awful rages. So…is she here on holiday? And where is she staying? Did she book in at Sandford’s Inn?”
“I believe the move’s permanent. And no, she’s not booked in at Sandford’s. She’s staying at the house.”
“You surely don’t mean Laurel House?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She’s there. With me. For the present, at any rate, till we sort things out.”
“But…what things?”
“She says she has papers that prove her father had no right to sell the property—”
“But everything was legal, wasn’t it? I mean, you’re a lawyer, for heaven’s sake! You’d have checked everything out—”
“Oh, it’s legal all right. No question about that.”
“Then…she’ll have to leave. Find another place to stay. Won’t she?”
“It’s
