opened her mouth to try and then closed it again, remembering how her mother and father taught her that lying was sinful. She cleared her throat. “Oh, him? That was just Alex Donovan, Chelsea White’s guardian while her mom is undergoing cancer treatment.”
Shelley stepped farther into the room and brushed away the wrinkles on her darling prairie skirt and fitted blouse. Everything looked effortlessly cute on the petite kindergarten teacher, and sometimes Dinah had to try not to envy that when she always struggled to find clothes modest enough for her too-curvy figure.
“I doubt that man could be called just anything, but whatever you say,” Shelley said. “Now I need details. Age. Occupation. Marital status.”
Dinah frowned at her but still relented. “Thirty-something if I were to guess.” Those crinkles around his eyes had given her a clue. “Firefighter.”
Shelley rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, I just knew he would be something manly like that. I was leaning toward construction worker or forester from the National Park Service or something, but I can picture him now rushing into burning buildings or rescuing kittens from trees.”
Because she could see it, too, Dinah turned her attention to the dry-erase board at the other side of her classroom. She would need to clean that and jot down tomorrow’s assignments before she left for the night.
“What about that last, all-important detail?”
“Oh, that. He’s single.”
Why was it that she wanted to be able to tell Shelley that Alex was married with a half-dozen children and a set of twins on the way? If a little forward, Shelley wasn’t a danger to local single men. She’d dated only a few since the beginning of the school year and was always kind when she ended a relationship. For some reason, though, Dinah hoped her friend didn’t set her sights on Chelsea’s kind guardian.
“But taken?” Shelley lifted a delicate brow when she glanced back at her.
Dinah shook her head. “I only met him today, but he did seem awfully busy working and caring for his cousin’s two children right now. Probably too busy for a lot of socializing.” He’d found time for a few minutes of it with her, but Dinah didn’t mention that.
Though Shelley nodded, she didn’t appear convinced.
Dinah’s cheeks burned as realization dawned. “You mean me? I told you I just met him during a conference about Chelsea.”
“You certainly know a lot of his details.”
“Because we were discussing the difficult situation that Chelsea’s in.” Maybe it wasn’t necessary for her to know his personal value regarding marriage and children, but that was beside the point.
“Whatever you say.” Shelley still didn’t sound convinced, but then she sighed. “You’re probably right. The fabulous firefighter would be too busy right now to spoil me properly, so I guess I won’t be asking you to introduce us.”
It was Dinah’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“You know how I expect to be spoiled when I date someone.”
Though she knew nothing of the sort, Dinah nodded. She sensed that her friend might be stepping aside for her sake, and she should let Shelley know the gesture was unnecessary, but she couldn’t speak up.
It was probably for the best. Alex’s life was complicated enough without Dinah introducing him to the spunky kindergarten teacher. She was probably doing him a favor by not giving him another distraction.
Whether he would see her sacrifice as a favor or not, she wouldn’t have to find out since she didn’t plan to tell him. She also wouldn’t have to confess to feeling relief that the firefighter she barely knew and shouldn’t be planning to get to know better wouldn’t be meeting someone else.
Ross Van Zandt set a heavy file box next to the sofa, leaning back into the cushions without opening it. He could have worked in his office this afternoon, but he preferred to be home as much as he could these days.
He reached for the remote control and flipped on daytime television, not expecting quality viewing but still looking for white noise. As if to confirm his prediction, a local celebrity’s face appeared on the screen in an extreme close-up.
“Good afternoon, Richmond. I’m Douglas Matthews, and I would like to welcome you to Afternoons with Douglas Matthews.”
“How many more times can he cram Douglas Matthews into one sentence?” Ross grumbled.
As the camera pulled away, the black-haired and blue-eyed talk show host leaned in and smiled with unnaturally white teeth, as if he was talking to his best friends. All half a million or so of his buddies outside the screen.
“You’re going to love our lineup today. First up, is your garden ready for the snowy season? Our garden expert will offer the Top Ten tips for planting, pruning and primping to ensure a plentiful spring.”
Ross rolled his eyes as he opened the box at his feet. The talk show host prattled on about how to make marinated salmon with some local celebrity or other, but Ross tuned out the rest.
Why did people watch that garbage, anyway? Afternoons didn’t deal with anything meatier than the best food for roses or favorite boat tours on Richmond’s Kanawha Canal.
From what Ross had heard, Matthews had made a scene at the Starlight Diner when Richmond Gazette reporter Jared Kierney had suggested a show on the Tiny Blessings adoption scandal. Even if Matthews didn’t want to help people by sharing their stories, at least Ross would have expected the talk show host to jump on the story for a ratings boost. With material like today’s lineup, he probably needed it.
“You’ve procrastinated long enough, Van Zandt.” Ross blew out a breath as he forced his attention back to the box of records.
He knew this drill. For the last two months he’d been going through these records systematically, comparing them to the documents on file at Tiny Blessings and trying to weed out the truth from an overgrowth of lies. He was glad he could provide pro bono private investigative services for the agency his wife headed because Tiny Blessings would never be able to afford those services otherwise.
At the squeak on the stairs, Ross was sorry he’d decided to leave the office and pore over more records at home today. Kelly didn’t need any more aggravation these days, and this newest crisis facing the agency was nothing if not aggravating.
Just when they thought they’d put the scandal involving illegal adoptions behind them, more falsified records had been discovered in the walls of the Harcourt mansion during the renovation project by Ben Cavanaugh’s construction company.
Ross had hoped Kelly would relinquish more of the responsibility, and the headaches that went along with it, to Eric Pellegrino, the agency’s new assistant director she’d hired to take the pressure off her pregnancy. But he knew Kelly better than that. For all the crises and bad publicity the agency faced, his wife believed the buck stopped with her.
The woman he loved appeared then at the end of the sofa, her hands resting on her rounded belly, her hair mussed from a nap.
“I thought you were supposed to be resting.”
Kelly
