mamm, but I think it would not be wilkom, ja?” She gave a wry smile and turned toward the grocery section of the shop.
Since everyone in the valley knew of Margo King’s antipathy to her late husband’s Amish kin, there was little point in pretending it was otherwise. So Meredith just nodded and went to the counter to pick up the quart of goat’s milk Anna had ready.
“Thanks, Anna.”
“It makes no trouble,” Anna said, although it had to be a bit of a chore to make a separate trip just to pick up the milk, especially when, like Anna, one drove a horse and buggy to do so.
“Well, I appreciate it.” She handed over the money.
“You’re a gut daughter,” Anna said as Meredith turned toward the door. “Ain’t so, Jeannette?” She appealed to the woman who’d just entered the shop.
Jeannette Walker’s smile, as always, seemed to curdle a bit when she turned it on Meredith. “I’m sure she must be.” Since Jeannette’s bed-and-breakfast, the Willows, stood directly across the street from Meredith’s house, she no doubt thought she had ample opportunity to judge.
“It’s nice to see you, Jeannette.” Meredith gave the expected greeting and attempted to reach the door, but Jeannette stood in her path, and she seemed in no hurry to move.
“Don’t rush off yet,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you my news.” Jeannette patted the tightly permed curls that made her look older than the fortysomething she probably was.
Funny, the difference between her and Sarah even though they were probably about the same age. Sarah, with no makeup, plain dress and her hair pulled back from a center part under her white kapp, still looked younger than Jeannette.
“Is something new in the bed-and-breakfast business?” she asked, even though she wasn’t exactly panting to know.
“You might say that.” Jeannette’s gaze sharpened on Meredith’s face. “I have a guest coming in today. An old friend of yours, I think.”
“Really?” It seemed unlikely that one of her friends was coming to stay at the Willows, but she supposed stranger things had happened. “Who is it?”
“Well, you’re just not going to believe it when I tell you.” The faint look of triumph on Jeannette’s face made Meredith vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m sure he was once a special friend of yours.”
Meredith’s fingers tightened around the milk bottle, and somehow she already knew whose name was coming out of Jeannette’s mouth.
“Zachary Randal.” Jeannette proclaimed the name loudly enough that everyone in Miller’s Shop could hear it. “Now, tell me I’m not wrong. You two were an item once upon a time, weren’t you?”
The smile on Meredith’s face was probably frozen, but it had nothing on the icy hand that gripped her heart at the name. Zach Randal, returning to Deer Run after thirteen years? Surely not. He’d made it plain enough when he’d stormed away from her that he would never come back.
“Zach Randal?” Anna joined the conversation, diverting Jeannette’s focus, thank goodness. “Well, that is interesting news. It’ll be nice to see how that boy turned out after all these years.”
Jeannette’s expression suggested she smelled something nasty. “Not very well, I’m sure. If anyone had asked me, I’d have said he’d be in prison by this time.”
Meredith discovered she was still capable of being roused to anger on Zach’s behalf. “If that’s so, why did you rent a room to him?”
Jeannette shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “I run a business, after all. What can I do? But I’m surprised you didn’t suggest he stay at your friend Rachel’s little inn.”
Rachel ran Mason House, a thriving new B and B that was giving the Willows a run for its money. But never mind the barb—Jeannette was fishing for a response. She was probably torn between wanting to be the only person who knew of Zach’s imminent arrival and her desire to find out if Meredith was still in touch with him.
The thought of exposing her feelings in public kept Meredith’s spine straight and her face composed. “There’s no reason for Zach to contact me about his plans.”
“So sad.” Jeannette shook her head as if in sympathy, but her gaze was that of a robin with its eyes on a succulent worm. “When you were once so very close.”
“Just casual friends,” she said, knowing full well that everyone in the store probably saw that for the lie it was. Knowing, too, that she couldn’t keep this front up much longer. “Excuse me. I must get home.”
She brushed past Jeannette and hurried out the door, trying not to look as if she were running away.
She didn’t run away. She’d never been able to. Running away was what Zach had done. She had just provided the reason.
* * *
ZACH HAD EXPECTED he’d have some time to adjust to being back in Deer Run before his inevitable first sight of Meredith King. He’d been wrong. As he pulled up in front of the Willows, Meredith was letting herself in the gate to her front yard, right across the street.
He could have stayed at a big, anonymous motel out on the interstate, but conducting this business had become a matter of pride to him. If he had to come back to Deer Run, he’d come, and nobody here could intimidate him again.
Including Meredith. He slammed the car door, making her face turn toward him, and started across the road. Sauntering, not hurrying. He’d greet her like any nearly forgotten acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years. He’d show both her and himself that nothing remained of their long-vanished love.
That was easier said than done, given the fact that just the sight of her made him feel as if he’d been rammed full-on by a semi.
He came to a halt a few feet from her. Meredith stood still, just looking at him, her hand arrested with the gate half-open.
“Meredith.” Luckily his voice came out as cool as he’d hoped. Undercover work had honed his acting skills. “It’s been a long time.”
He might have hoped to find that his first love had turned into a frazzled housewife carrying an extra twenty pounds and with a whining toddler in tow. She hadn’t. If Meredith had added any weight since she was seventeen, it had certainly gone to the right places. The lovely girl she’d been had turned into a beautiful woman.
“Thirteen years,” she said. She seemed to realize that she was gripping the gate tightly, and she let it swing closed, creating a barrier between them. “How are you, Zach?”
“Doing fine.” He probably resembled the drug dealer he’d been posing as, with his tight, well-worn jeans, hair over his collar and stubble on his jaw. Fine. Let Deer Run think ill of him. It always had.
Meredith, on the other hand, looked like a polished professional woman with her shining brown hair worn in a sleek, just-below-the-chin cut, neat slacks and a soft coral sweater, with a touch of gold at ears and wrist.
Not on her hands, though. He’d seen that bare ring finger first thing.
“I
