you’re looking for a wife?” This put a whole new twist on their conversation—and on his behavior. Although if he wanted to get married, he was going about it in an odd way.
“I’m not proposing,” he said quickly.
“Good.”
He frowned. “Good?”
“Well, yes. I’m not even thinking about marriage.”
Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So I’m wasting my time?”
“That depends,” Linnette murmured.
He glanced over at her. “Depends on what?”
“On whom.”
“Okay,” Pete said, “that’s fair. Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away.” Linnette crossed her legs and swung one foot to the rhythm of the music.
“What are my chances? Just tell me flat-out so I can save myself the time, effort and expense of driving back and forth. Not to mention making a fool of myself,” he added in a low voice.
Linnette thought about his question. “I can’t really say. It would help if I knew more about you.”
He nodded. “That’s fair,” he said again. He paused, taking an audible breath. “I run a farm with my brother. Josh isn’t married, either.” His eyes narrowed and he gave her an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you have any unmarried friends who’d be interested in moving here?” As soon as the words were out, he seemed to regret having asked. “Never mind. It worked once, but I don’t think history’s going to repeat itself.”
“What?”
“Eight or nine years ago, Lindsay Snyder moved to town—”
“I’ve met Lindsay,” she put in.
“Well, her friend Maddy Washburn followed, and they married local men, so … Where was I?”
Linnette froze. “Did you say Washburn?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” It seemed Cal was destined to haunt her, no matter where she went.
“She married Jeb McKenna.”
She and Maddy had become friends; Maddy was the person she’d been planning to visit the day of the tornado. And Washburn was her maiden name. Life was full of such ironies, she supposed.
She saw Maddy—no longer a Washburn—and Lindsay Sinclair across the room, and the three of them exchanged waves. She turned back to Pete.
He seemed a bit flustered, so Linnette prompted him. “You were going to tell me about yourself.”
“Right.” Pete sat up a bit straighter. “I’m a farmer, just like my father and grandfather, and I work hard. We raise soybeans and wheat, and we keep a few horses. It isn’t easy making a living off the land these days. Josh and I put in a lot of long hours. I enjoy reading in my spare time, and as you noticed, I’m not bad on my feet. I can play a little guitar and I’m fond of kids.”
“Are you kind to animals?”
“Yeah. I’m too softhearted, according to my brother.”
“Do you have any secrets you’re willing to share?”
“Secrets?”
“Like the ones I spilled during the tornado.”
Pete frowned. “I cheated on a test once in seventh grade and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since. The first time I chewed tobacco my dad walked into the room and I swallowed it. I ended up sicker than a dog and I haven’t chewed since.”
That was a comforting thought. He was obviously a man who learned from his mistakes.
“Anything else you want to ask me?” While she mulled over the question, Pete said, “I know that if I was ever fortunate enough to have a woman like you fall in love with me, I’d recognize and treasure the gift I had and never look elsewhere.”
Her heart melted at that. “I’d say your chances just went up considerably, Pete Mason.”
“They did?”
She smiled and found he was smiling, too. Oh, yes, Buffalo Valley, North Dakota, was looking better all the time.
Forty-One
Teri knew that Bobby was as ready as he could possibly be for this all-important chess match. The two top-ranked chess players in the world would finally meet, and the press was watching carefully.
Although he wasn’t pleased about her accompanying him to New York, Teri had insisted on it. James was still at home in Cedar Cove, recovering. Teri had asked Christie if she’d look in on him while they were away. Christie had agreed, but reluctantly; when she got back, Teri was going to do a little probing. That relationship seemed to be one step forward, twenty steps back, and neither of them was telling her anything.
The match, in midtown Manhattan, would be broadcast around the globe. The New York Times had published an article about the elusive Bobby Polgar; the reporter claimed that since his marriage, Bobby had gone into seclusion and had finally emerged.
On the flight from Seattle, Teri wore a maternity top for the first time. She didn’t really need it yet, but she figured her pregnancy would give the press something to talk about—and an ostensible reason for Bobby’s disappearance from public view.
They arrived in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon. The match would be staged at a hotel off Broadway the next day. When they entered their suite, Teri was awestruck by the huge bouquets of flowers, fruit baskets and bottles of champagne. This was her first trip to New York, and it was everything she’d expected. Staring out the window at the streets below, she lingered over the dazzling lights of the city. This was some kind of town! Mesmerized, she could hear its heartbeat from thirty-eight floors up.
“Bobby, will you look at this?” she cried, holding back the draperies and fixing her gaze on the blur of yellow taxis. The billboards flashed advertisements and vendors hawked their wares on street corners.
“I want to shop,” Teri said longingly. She had a total of two maternity tops in her entire wardrobe. Two. And New York was supposed to have some of the best shopping in the whole world.
“No,” Bobby said without even a pause.
“No?” Bobby said it to her so rarely that it was like hearing a foreign language.
“Later,” he promised.
She sighed; he was right. Teri’s role now was to support Bobby. After the match there’d be plenty of time to hit the stores. “Will you come with me?” she asked.
Bobby nodded. “If you want.”
“It’ll be fun,” she said. Flopping down on the bed, she reached
