Irresistible Stranger

Chapter 6

Okay, Lily thought as she charged up the steps to the library, nothing was going to go smoothly today. She’d found Barbara Marr’s house, but not Webster Renbarcker. “Web” was at the library, his cousin claimed. She often dropped him off to spend a couple hours there. If Lily wanted to find Mr. Renbarcker, she needed to go there.

So she had.

She swung open the heavy library door, fretting that this was going to be a whole wasted morning, when she could have been with Griff. What she’d risked that morning-what she wanted to risk with him again-made her wonder if she was losing her mind.

Chasing an old man who might not even talk with her seemed another symptom of insanity-yet she only took a few steps into the old, cool library to feel bombarded by a flush of great memories. Her dad had often brought the girls here-likely to give their mom a break, Lily thought now-but as a child she’d only known those mornings as a special treat. The smell of books, the tall windows letting in the long, yellow ribbons of light, the quiet, the big chairs that a little girl could curl up in…she’d loved it all when she was a child.

Still did. The old blue rug looked the same, so did the giant, oak library desk. It was impossible not to feel safe here. She ambled through aisles in the adult section, not certain what Webster Renbarcker looked like-but for sure, he had to be a senior.

There was no one over fifty in adult fiction, or in the reference room in back. Disappointed, she just glanced in the childrens’ room, even as she was aiming for the back door…and there he was. An older man with longish white hair and scratchy white whiskers was sitting on a cushioned stool, leafing through a child’s picture book.

A couple kids huddled in the corner with an older sister; a mom and toddler had claimed the sunny spot under a window. Lily quietly approached the older man, said gently, “Mr. Renbarcker?”

He immediately looked up with faded blue eyes.

“My name is Lily Campbell. I used to live here. My dad used to work at your mill.”

He brightened up as if she’d given him a present. Once he started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. He tended to fade out now and then, but the past seemed clearer to him than the present.

“Never thought I’d see any of you Campbells again. Your daddy never set that fire, honey. He loved the mill. He loved me. He’d been watching out for me from before I got sick, watched out for my wife the same way.”

It was as if the old man’s heart hurt. Words just poured out of him.

“He knew I was sick, your daddy, because he found me on the floor one day. I’d had some kind of seizure. He was just a boy then, almost fresh out of college. Had a young wife-your mama, prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, she was. I didn’t have a son. Didn’t have any children. Couldn’t. Maybe my body knew I was going to get sick, you think?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“The thing was…your daddy, he covered for me, every which way from Sunday. I made mistakes. He tried to catch them. I’d be fine one day, selling the farm the next, sending shipments to Canada instead of Louisiana, I could get that goofy. I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t believe it. Hid it from my wife as long as I could. I thought I was crazy.”

“It sounds so frightening, Mr. Renbarcker.”

“It was. It was. That was just the thing. I didn’t know it was an illness in the beginning, or for a long while. I just thought I was losing my mind. Your dad was better than a son to me. I loved him. I loved your mama, too.”

Lily felt tears well. Good tears. Loved tears.

“When it got real bad…well, I’m sure you know. I lost the mill. It had to be closed. I’d mucked up far more than your father could fix. But when they said he was despondent over losing his job-honey, it wasn’t like that at all. He knew I was sick. He knew what was coming. There was no shock to him, no sudden surprise. He knew we were going down.”

Lily suddenly couldn’t breathe. For the first time, she was talking to someone who knew her dad back then. Who was describing her dad as a good man-a hero, not a coward. A man who’d never had a “depressed” reason to set that fire-or any other fire.

“We’d talked about it many times, Lily. I urged him to quit and leave me with my own problems. He had you three girls by then-and nothing he adored more than his daughters. He had to be worried about finances, yet when I told him to leave me, find another job, he said that you girls loved mac and cheese, and none of you needed a fancy car. He’d saved. Enough to knuckle down and find himself another job when that had to be, but he was sticking by me to the end. You know what bothered me most, young lady?”

“Tell me,” Lily urged him.

But the old man suddenly leaned forward with a wheezing cough, and when he finally straightened again, there seemed a hazy fog over his eyes. “Danielle, did you make me some of your famous huckleberry pie for dinner tonight?” He winked. “You look so pretty today, my dear. I love that color of blue on you.”

“I…thank you.” She’d learned so much. She wanted to get to her cell phone, call her sisters. Wanted to figure out what all this information meant-if her dad had never set that long-ago fire, then who had? And did that have anything to do with the two fires since she’d come back to town?

And then there was Griff. She wanted to get back with him, to see what was happening to his store, to dig into whatever she could help him with. And yeah, to dig into whatever crazy place they were going personally together, too.

But she couldn’t just up and leave the older man. Mr. Renbarcker wasn’t thinking straight. She didn’t know if or when his cousin would come looking for him. The mom and her toddler had wandered off; the clutch of other kids had been picked up by their father. Another group of kids popped in. Mr. Renbarcker kept talking to “Danielle” as if Lily were the one and only love of his life.

A boisterous group of tweeners piled in the doors, girls, giggling loud enough to raise the dead, finally arousing the librarian to stand in the doorway with a frown. It was the first thing that had distracted Mr. Renbarcker, who finally looked at her and said, “I know you, don’t I?”

Putting a solution in motion seemed to take forever. The librarian, Sarah-Leigh Jenkins, was enlisted to track down Barbara Marr’s phone number, but Sarah seemed to think it was suspicious for Lily to take an interest in the old man. Lily managed to reach Barbara Marr; but really, it was easiest just to drive the older man back home, since he was willing to get in the car with her-even if the librarian was scandalized all over again. Driving him was just faster than waiting for his cousin to get there, and Lily couldn’t fathom why anyone would think anything was hokey about a young woman being kind to someone elderly.

Only, by then, outside, it was hot enough to fry bacon on the pavement. Her rental car’s air conditioner coughed and sputtered like a pneumonia case.

She got Mr. Renbarcker back to his relatives, then finally was free to drive back to Griff’s. By then she was frustrated and itchy-hot, and verging on cranky. Her cell phone registered five calls-all from her sisters. Admitting to Cate why she’d come back to Pecan Valley this summer had clearly alerted her sisters’ alarm bells. Now there’d be no end to their advice. And she’d call them both back.

But not yet. Right then, she just wanted Griff.

“Hey, Griff, I just want to…”

“Griff, what do you think of…”

“Griff, how can I…?”

Griff considered hurling out the back and beating his head on the closest rock. He’d been patient all morning, but at this point he was hot, cranky, frustrated and just plain fed up. There were too many problems-all of which needed addressing immediately. There were way too many questions with no answers, and a zillion people hovering every damn time he had a chance to dig in.

This time, when he turned around there was Mrs. Georgia Maryweather, four-foot-eleven in heels and a ribboned hat, holding a peach-pecan pie. “Griff, I felt certain you’d need a little pick-me-up, bless your heart. The mister and I, we were so sorry to hear about the fire. It sure is a mess.”

“What a kind thing to do. Thank you, Mrs. Maryweather.”

Griff gave himself credit. He didn’t blow his temper, because of course he’d never bellow at a sweet old woman. Or a crotchety old woman. Or any woman. As anyone in town knew, he didn’t have a temper. He was low-key, never moved fast, never expressed anger.

Damned if he would behave like his dad. Ever. No matter what the provocation.

Mrs. Maryweather, of course, wanted a complete, chatty version of what had happened, who did it, what the damage would cost, what she and Mr. Maryweather could do to help, when he’d have the store back in business, the problem with young people today, the terror of crime and the story of her sister’s daughter’s cousin’s break-in last year.

Griff could feel the start of a tic in his right eye. His stomach had shrunk to the size of a small, tight knot. Early-afternoon heat had come in like a prize-fighter, fast and sharp, a hot blow that could fell anybody.

“Now, Griff, sugar, you just tell me if you…”

“Griff…?”

For four hours now, he hadn’t accomplished anything substantial. Couldn’t finish a conversation. Couldn’t end a sentence. Either the cell phone was buzzing or a fresh batch of people showed up. It wasn’t as if this was the fire of the century. It was just a mess.

“Now, Mr. Maryweather and I, we’d-”

A sudden movement caught his attention-the shine of glossy brown hair braiding through the crowd. Lily. Ignoring everyone, including a few accusing stares directed her way, she seemed solely focused on him, his face, his expression. Herman Conner, who’d been unshakable all morning, hitched up his trousers and aimed to block her path.

But nothing was stopping Lily. She barged past elbows and looks and conversation, the frown on her brow deepening as she finally reached him. “I’m really sorry. I assumed I could get here a lot earlier. I got caught up.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her. “In fact, I should have called your cell, told you to forget it. There’s nothing anyone can do to help me right now.”

She searched his face, barely whispered, “Yeah, right.” And then, in a sudden loud soprano, “Griff, I’m feeling sick with the heat. Could you just help me sit down for a minute? I’m afraid I’m going to faint.”

She wasn’t going to faint. He couldn’t imagine why she’d pull such a drama, grabbing his arm, lifting her other hand to her forehead like a swooning Scarlett O’Hara. It was the hokiest acting job he’d ever seen…but he couldn’t be 100% positive of that. Lily did have trouble with heat, and it wasn’t as if he could ignore a woman asking for his help.

Much less Lily.

He’d have brought her into the nearest air-conditioning-which was the shop next door-but somehow Ms. Drama Queen, even as she moaned and groaned, elbowed him around the side of the store, down the alley, to a patch of shade. Faster than a snake, she wiggled through her purse and emerged with two water bottles. The first one she opened and poured over his head before he could even think about sputtering.

The second, she handed him for a drink. “Sit,” she said.

“What the hell are you doing?” He pushed a hand through his dripping hair, refusing to enjoy the sudden burst of cool. Although Lily couldn’t possibly know it, there were certain things Griff never did. Obey orders was one of them. Allow himself to be “handled” was another.

“We’re going to cool you down and calm you down. Or you can vent a bunch of yelling on my head, if you’d rather. Both choices are okay with me.”

“What?”

“Griff, you looked seriously ready to explode.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? I’m a teacher. I told you that. I work with gifted students. I think I told you that, too. Extra-bright kids.” She nudged the cold water bottle toward him again and couldn’t help miss how he glared at her, but still, he took a long, long pull. “I’m used to knowing when they’re going to blow.”

“I don’t blow.”

“Of course you blow. Everybody gets angry sometimes.”

“I couldn’t be less angry.”

“Right. See, my kids-they’re used to high expectations put on them. They’re used to meeting those expectations, getting a thrill when they even do more. But when they can’t quite make that A-plus grade, they can go through a mighty crash. They hate it.”

“I’m not one of your kids, Lily. And I sure as hell don’t need caretaking. By anyone.”

“There’s no reason in the universe why you can’t come unglued now and then.”

There sure as hell was. His father capitalized every reason why a man-A Good Man-expected control from himself. Always. No exceptions. No discussion. “I’m not unglued.”

She didn’t take a breath, didn’t look patient, didn’t keep pushing the psychology crap. He had to get back to that infernal commotion, he knew that. He’d been talking all morning, couldn’t waste time on any more useless talk. Stuff had to be done.

But somehow-not because he was unraveling or unglued or any nonsense like that-he did spill a little. “Everyone’s talking about the fire. Hell, me, too. It’s arson. That’s damned upsetting, but reality is still…there are some practical things that have to be done. I got hooked up to a temporary generator, but it doesn’t have enough juice for what I need in the back room. Debbie-of Debbie’s Diner-has taken the fresh ice cream, going to sell at the restaurant. But I’ve got my batch freezers, my barrel freezers, the high-sheen blenders, the flavor tanks. All the equipment it takes to make and test serious ice cream. I don’t care about some stupid financial loss. It’s the mess. It’s-”

She interrupted. “I get it. So what do you need first? An electrician to work on the power? Or do you need to move the equipment? Have to find a place? What?”

“It’s sort of…all of the above. I need some straight information-from an electrician, a plumber-before I can make a move. But every time I turn around, there’s a dozen people, the police, Herman, the insurance investigator…my kids. The darned kids are so worried they can’t stay out of it, but I-”

“Okay.” She lurched to her feet. “You stay here. Sit, drink some water, rehydrate, use your cell. I’ll take care of the boys. Between the three of us, we’ll run interference for you. You get done what you need to get done.”

He frowned.

She cocked her head. “What?”

“You pulled this last night and it was reasonably cute, but enough’s enough. You’re manipulating me. Handling me.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if I could. Relax, Griff. I’m not the manipulator type.”

She charged off, leaving him in the cool shade with the water, staring after her. She was right, of course. He’d never met anyone less of a manipulator type than Lily.

But something fishy was definitely going on. He could feel it. His stomach had de-clenched. The tic had disappeared. He’d lost the freaked-out feeling.

That woman was downright dangerous.

But then he took another cool slug of water and hunkered down with his cell phone.

Dangerous.

Lily.

Pairing those two words created an oxymoron if ever there was one. He liked her. Possibly he way more than liked her. He was downright fascinated by how powerfully and unexpectedly he was attracted to her-got a real click when they were talking. Got more than a click when they were touching.

But she wasn’t dangerous.

She was in danger.

And he damned well better keep that priority on the front line.

By four that afternoon, Lily was blister-hot, savagely hungry, and having a terrific time. The boys, Jason and Steve, had worked with her like parts of a well-honed team. Initially, she’d sent them off with money to buy ice, cups, water. She’d scared up a card table from the business next door and set the whole thing up to work as a barrier between Griff and the bystanders. Those still curious could congregate, but they couldn’t get to him-at least not without interference, and the boys were pit-bull-protective that way.

She had a feeling no one had trusted Jason with personal cash in…forever, because he counted back every penny of change, braced as if expecting her to accuse him of lifting a cut. When she praised both boys for helping to protect Griff, they both grew five inches-at least-and walked around with the posture of soldiers.

It was enough to give a teacher heart palpitations. Man, it felt good to see a beaten-down kid try on some self-esteem.

Okay, so maybe the afternoon wasn’t all peaches and cream. The sheriff insisted on taking both boys aside, grilling them on where they’d been at every hour of the night before, and whether they could prove it. Herman Conner had pointed a finger at her and said, “Honey, you and I are going to have a little talk later,” which put a mosquito in her stomach.

That wasn’t the only icky part of the afternoon. Griff’s fire had lowered her popularity points, and it wasn’t as if she had been batting a thousand before last night. Still, being out and about was a way to talk with people. Listen. Ask questions. She discovered others who’d known her mom and dad-and others who’d worked at the mill before it closed.

A hefty truck pulled in the back alley and started loading out what was, she assumed, Griff’s fancy equipment. A few guys hung with him for a while, scuffling the dirt, hands on hips, jawing plans and problems. By the time the truck rumbled off and Griff aimed for her, she was being confronted by three redheads.

She’d already met Mary Belle-the buxom redhead who ran Belle Hair-at the grocery store. But this afternoon she had her two daughters with her, not that that relationship needed explaining. The teenagers looked just like their mama-lots and lots of eye makeup. Major breasts, displayed in sweetheart tees. Heaven knew what hair color they’d all been born with, but new-age red was obviously adopted as their family color of choice.

“Lily, sugar, I wish you’d let me do something about that hair,” Mary Belle told Lily.

“I’m dying to get it cut. I just honestly haven’t had time,” Lily said, which was 95 percent true. The only holdback was a sincere worry what Mary Belle might do with a pair of scissors.

“I could give you some real style, honey. Jazz you up some. You need a little more…” Mary Belle made a motion with her hands “…style, if you want to appeal to a man like Griff.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s all right, Lily. I hear everything in the salon. No point in trying to keep gossip from me. And bless his heart, I tried to catch him myself-when I was between husbands, anyhow. Never did work, even though I know he wanted to try.” Mary Belle cocked her head. “Anyhow-y’all give me a call in the morning, I’ll get you in, and that’s a promise. I’ll do you myself. Trained in Savannah, you know…well, hello, handsome.”

Griff came up behind them, greeted Mary Belle’s coy flash of eyelashes and inviting smile with his usual Southern boy charm. But Lily had long figured out he could flirt in his sleep; it didn’t mean anything beyond an unshakeable kindness to women. Behind the courtesy, though, she could see the tired circles under his eyes, the smudges of dirt that tracked his clothes, dusted his shoes. He was one wiped-out cookie.

Still, he looked better than earlier, when she’d worried he was absolutely at the end of his rope-even though he’d denied it to the death. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, suggesting he had human qualities, like anger and frustration. Those sharp edges were definitely gone. Now he just looked as if he could crash the instant he sat down-if given the chance.

Lily had been thinking about that all day. Whether she was going to give him that chance to rest.

Or whether she was going to do something she’d never done in her life. Take a petrifying risk. Hurl good sense to the winds. And make love with a man for no reason beyond that she terribly, totally, irrevocably…

Wanted to.