postcards.”
“We haven’t had any more in the last week,” Corrie added quickly. She hesitated, then turned to Roy. “Have we?”
Roy’s frown darkened his entire face. “No. And the subject is closed.” With that, he sat down and hid behind the newspaper.
“But…”
“It won’t do any good to question him,” her mother whispered. She silently pleaded with her to drop the subject.
Linnette already knew how stubborn and unreasonable her father could be. She was furious that he’d excluded her like this. He did the same thing to Mack. Linnette found it chilling that her own father could pretend she wasn’t there, seeking answers, needing reassurance. He didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t asking these questions because she was intruding on their business. Her concern was genuine.
“I’d better leave now,” she said, retrieving the suede jacket that matched her skirt.
Cal had agreed to meet her at The Lighthouse, the finest restaurant in town, at seven. Linnette was prepared to pay for the dinner if it came to that, but she hoped Cal would offer, since she wasn’t on the clinic payroll yet. Her mother had paid big bucks for this guy, although Linnette wasn’t sure precisely how much. She knew it was over four hundred dollars each for Cal and the dog, who was definitely worth her share of the money. In Linnette’s humble opinion, Cal should be the one paying the tab for tonight’s dinner. Nevertheless, she had enough cash to cover it, unless he ordered expensive drinks.
“Have a good time,” Corrie said again as she walked Linnette to the door.
Linnette didn’t think that was possible. “Any words of wisdom?” she asked in a resigned voice.
The question appeared to please her mother. “I don’t know much about Cal. However, Grace Sherman at the library says he’s a wonderful man but shy, so you might have to carry the conversation.”
Linnette had already figured that. With his stutter, it might be difficult to have much of a conversation at all. Linnette was afraid this evening would be torture. She knew it was going to be a struggle not to finish his sentences for him. Doing that would be terribly impolite and, of course, Cal would resent it, with good reason.
Linnette wasn’t looking forward to going home that night, either; her mother would almost certainly be waiting up to interrogate her about the evening with Cal. But Linnette had a few questions of her own. She hoped to learn more about these postcards so she could tell her brother. Linnette felt they had a right to know that their parents were in potential danger.
If her father’s reaction to a simple question was any indication, she could forget about any hope of shared information from him. He wasn’t talking, but she might be able to persuade her mother to drop a few hints.
When she reached the restaurant, Linnette parked in the only available spot and walked up the steps to The Lighthouse foyer. Funny, she’d never thought to ask Cal what he looked like. Now, standing in a foyer crowded with people, all waiting to be seated, she glanced around, hoping she’d somehow recognize him. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a number of single men milling about.
Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of asking strangers their names, Linnette decided there must be a logical way to do this. Cal would probably be wearing cowboy boots. Unfortunately, that meant she was walking around with her head down, staring at everyone’s feet.
She found a man with a polished pair of boots and raised her head. She immediately dismissed him as a possibility. He was far too old. Her survey continued. Scuffed boots—too young. Snakeskin boots—nope. Too urban.
“Linnette?”
She abruptly looked up and nearly collided with a lean, wiry man of about thirty-five. He wore a cowboy hat and western-style jacket with leather patches on the sleeves and—yes, indeed—cowboy boots. Linnette’s expectations hadn’t been high, but if this was Cal Washburn, he far exceeded her hopes. He was a pleasant-looking man, not striking, but obviously in good shape. Brown hair and eyes, prominent cheekbones, a solid jaw and surprise of surprises, a warm smile.
“Cal?”
He nodded. “I h-have a reservation.” With his hand at the small of her back, he directed her to the desk.
The woman behind the counter looked at them expectantly.
“W-Washburn,” Cal said.
She scanned the list and scratched out his name when she located it on the reservation sheet. Reaching for two menus, she said, “Your table is ready.”
Linnette had no idea The Lighthouse restaurant did such a rousing business. It hadn’t occurred to her to make reservations, and she was grateful Cal had.
Once they were seated, Linnette opened her menu, studied the selections and chose the seafood fettuccini with clams, scallops and Hood Canal shrimp. It sounded appetizing—and was affordably priced. She’d stick to the free rolls for her appetizer.
The waiter came for their drink order and Linnette decided on iced tea. Cal asked for a whiskey sour. Remembering that her funds were limited, Linnette opened her menu again to see if there was a price list for mixed drinks. Yes—to her horror, it was made with premium whiskey and cost almost ten dollars.
After their drinks arrived, they made small talk, with Linnette doing most of the talking, just as she’d assumed she would. Cal seemed interested in her work as a physician assistant and was impressed that she could prescribe medications and treat minor injuries. She described the first times she’d sutured a wound and put on a cast and how nervous she’d been.
The waiter returned for their meal order and it was as if Cal had only recently discovered food. He ordered a crab-and-artichoke dip for an appetizer, plus a dinner salad with shrimp. The seafood topping cost extra. For his entrée, he chose a T-bone steak.
Linnette casually looked at the menu a second time and checked on the price of the steak. According to her calculations, his tab alone would add up to all the cash she carried.
“Is s-something wr-rong?” Cal inquired.
She leaned closer and tried to figure out a way to explain that she was on a limited budget, but couldn’t. It was just too humiliating. “N-nothing,” she assured him.
“You stutter?” His eyes widened as though he’d met his soul mate.
“No.” She shook her head. “Cal, I—” She began to explain that they might need to split the bill, but just then the waiter delivered the rolls and the appetizer.
Despite her predictions, Linnette actually had an enjoyable time. She relaxed after she started eating. Cal insisted she have a glass of wine with her meal; the expense was more than she could afford, but she let him talk her into it. When she tasted the chardonnay, she was glad she’d succumbed. The wine was not only delicious, it went a long way toward calming her nerves.
She shouldn’t have been surprised that Cal ordered dessert—New York-style cheesecake, no less. He also requested two forks.
“I couldn’t,” she insisted, placing both hands on her stomach.
“One taste,” Cal said.
“We
