Telling Tales

Chapter One

Darci stood staring at the school board members in a state of shock.

“Ummm…excuse me, what?” she asked. She hadn’t heard what she thought she had heard…had she?

Daniel Sommers leaned forward, crossing his hands in front of him. “So are you denying it?”

“Hell, yes, I’m denying it. Joe is married,” she snapped, rising from her chair, walking over to the Superintendent’s desk and slamming her hands on it.

“Yes. That is part of the problem. This is a small town, Darci. We can’t have our schoolteachers carrying on with married men, or even carrying on indiscriminately with unmarried men. People talk and parents don’t want an immoral woman teaching their first graders.”

Darci fought the urge to grit her teeth. Instead, she just took a deep breath and said softly, “I am not immoral.”

“So…you’re telling me you haven’t been promiscuous?” Cathy Travers asked, flushing and shifting her eyes aside as though she couldn’t look at Darci while she asked.

Darci barely managed to stifle a hysterical laugh. This was so unreal. Damn it, she hadn’t had sex in nearly two years, and she was getting dragged on the carpet…for what? Her voice shook as she said, “My sex life is none of your business. None. But I do not sleep with married men, and that’s the bottom line.”

The board members looked at each other and sighed. Daniel studied her thoughtfully, maybe she was just desperate but she thought she saw a shred of belief in his eyes. “Darci, I try not to put a lot of stock in rumors.”

She watched as he slid his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he looked back up at her, it was with a slight smile and Darci felt her knees wobble with relief. “Let’s just forget about this, okay?” he said softly.

Darci sat on the stool behind the counter at Becka’s gallery, Dreams in the Mist, staring morosely at Becka. The woman, just a few years older than she, listened sympathetically as Darci repeated the incident with the school board.

“I just don’t get it. Where did they get that story about me and Joe?” she said as she finally finished explaining what had happened.

Becka glanced away.

If she had just looked away, Darci might have thought she just didn’t have an answer, but she bit her lip. Becka bit her lip when she was nervous.

Narrowing her eyes, Darci said, “What?”

Becka swung innocent eyes to Darci. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You bit your lip,” Darci accused, coming off the stool. “You do that when you’re nervous. What do you know?”

Becka forced a smile, shaking her head. “Nothing, baby. I promise. I’m just as shocked by this mess as you are.” Her face crumpled as Darci just stood there, crossing her arms over her chest, tapping one sandaled foot impatiently.

“Oh, hell.” Becka turned around and said, “It’s Carrie. I had to go to Wal-Mart to get my daughter’s prescription-she didn’t know I was standing an aisle over. You know how her voice carries. I don’t know who she was talking to, but she said she’d seen you and Joe go into the Golden Inn together Wednesday.”

Darci’s jaw dropped.

Now that was low. Carrie had pulled a lot of stunts, made a lot of innuendoes, but this…this was outright lying. “Damn it, I was at a birthday party Wednesday,” she gritted out.

Her hands opened and closed into fists, her nails biting into her flesh.

“I know,” Becka said, making soothing noises. “I knew it was bullshit, that’s why I didn’t say anything. It’s just like all the other…”

“Other?” Darci asked as Becka’s voice trailed off.

Becka’s round face flushed and her dark brown eyes looked absolutely miserable. “Darci…”

“What others?”

Becka sighed, moving around Darci to take the stool she’d vacated. “Honey, she likes to tell tales. You know that. She can be very malicious to people she considers her enemy. And you…well, you didn’t hate me the way she wanted you to.”

Darci heard the regret in Becka’s voice, even through her own anger. Sighing, she shoved a hand through her spiked, black cap of hair as she turned around, staring at Becka.

“There was no reason to hate you, Becka.”

Becka scowled sourly. “Can’t tell by me. Half of my old friends don’t even talk to me anymore,” she muttered, folding her hands together and tucking them between her knees.

“That’s because they are stupid.” Darci forced a smile. “We always knew that.”

Becka didn’t even try to smile back at her. Soberly, she studied Darci, sighing tiredly. She brushed the corkscrew curls back from her face and said quietly, “There are other stories. I guess I should have told you, but I…hell, I didn’t want to see you hurt. Didn’t want to see you angry.”

Darci caught her lower lip between her teeth, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m not. I’m beyond angry. But it’s not your fault, Becka. I know whose fault it is, and you can bet she’s going to hear from me about it.”

Darci turned to go, but Becka’s voice stopped her. “Honey, there was something I was going to tell you. I just heard about it this morning…planned on telling you when you came in today. I hate making this worse for you.”

A sick knot formed in her belly. Slowly, she turned back to Becka and asked, “What?”

“It’s about Della. And…Max.”

“Max?”

Becka licked her lips, reaching up to pat her pocket, then her hand fell away. “Keep forgetting that I quit smoking,” she said with a slight twist of her lips. “Times like this, I wonder why.”

Sighing, Becka met Darci’s eyes squarely and said, “Della called earlier, looking for you. She’s pissed. I couldn’t make out most of it, but I think she thinks you’ve been fucking Max.”

Just then, the phone on the counter jingled. Slowly, Darci reached out and picked it up, lifting it to her ear as she said by rote, “Dreams in the Mist, this is Darci.”

Della’s voice blasted in her ear and Darci just closed her eyes, slumping against the counter.

That was just perfect…

If ever a more pathetic, sad creature existed, Darci hadn’t met her. Studying Carrie Forrest as she sat at her desk, Darci wondered why in the hell some people were just so damned unhappy with life. Carrie was one of those people who liked to play martyr. Somebody who liked to play a mother figure, liked to pretend that she was everything to everybody, and she was damned good at it.

She had even pulled Darci in for a little while.

Just for a while, though. Darci had started watching things, listening to people talk…to the stories Carrie told, comparing her stories to the people she was supposedly so worried about.

Just lies. Almost everything that came out of her mouth was lies.

The problem was that this last one could damage somebody’s career, either Darci’s or Joe’s. Worse…it could wreck a marriage.

Generally, Darci didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought. It wouldn’t matter…if it weren’t for Joe, and for her job.

She taught art at an elementary school…in the Bible Belt of America. The parents wouldn’t tolerate the teacher of their kids being a tramp.

And Joe…he was a married man, a new daddy. They didn’t need this.

All Darci wanted to do was to take her pictures and be left alone.

All some other people wanted to do was cause trouble.

And damn it, some people believed what they said.

Della believed it. Della actually believed Darci was going around fucking every man she could get her hands on, including Della’s current man-one she was moon-eyed in love with. Max was the first man to come along in a long time who made Della want more than just a quick fuck.

Never mind the fact that Darci and Max didn’t generally even like each other.

Hell, she believed the bullshit that Darci was at a hotel in the middle of the afternoon fucking somebody else’s husband, believed she had fucked everybody she could…from the head of the city council to the boy who was delivering pizzas.

Darci knew, because Della had just finished shouting that garbage in her ear.

So far, Carrie hadn’t even noticed that Darci was in the room.

Darci, smiling an evil smile, lifted her heavy purse high over her head and let it fall to the glass table. The purse clattered loudly, keys jangling, digital camera falling out, coins rolling and jingling merrily. Darci smiled angelically as Carrie jumped and shrieked, whirling around in her chair, her chubby face white and pasty with shock, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

“A little jumpy?” Darci asked in dulcet tones.

Carrie had one hand pressed to her chest, and she swallowed, glaring at Darci. For one second, malevolence flashed in her muddy brown eyes before she pasted a smile of false sympathy on her face and said, “My, you gave me such a start. You need to be more careful, tossing your things down. You know how easily startled I am. How are you doing, love?”

“Don’t call me ‘love,’ Carrie. And you know damned good and well how I’m doing with the bullshit you started,” Darci said coldly, flicking her short, spiked hair away from her face. “I’m surprised Kim didn’t buzz you and tell you I was on my way up. Give you warning and all.”

“I asked not to be disturbed,” Carrie said, smiling her patented mother-earth smile. “I’ve been trying to…well. I’m trying to understand what is going on, why you would do what you’ve done.”

“Cut the bullshit, Carrie. You and I know who started this, and why I was called into my boss’s office today, and why I received a very nasty, angry phone call from Della Bennett,” Darci said quietly, sitting down on the suede couch, crossing one leg over the other. “Why Joe is having to defend himself against a bunch of slanderous rumors that he was seen at a hotel…with me. Why Della thinks I spent the weekend fucking her man.”

Darci saw the flicker in Carrie’s eyes, watched the tiny smile on her face. But Carrie only arched her brows and shook her head, heaving that patented martyred sigh. “What are you doing, Darci? Why are you lying to yourself, to everybody, like this?” she asked mournfully. “Don’t you understand how destructive this behavior is?”

But Darci could sense the crafty glee in her voice. Hear it there. And she knew. Any doubt she might have had that somebody else was behind this was gone. Gently, Darci said, “Maybe you don’t understand how destructive this behavior is, Carrie. I don’t take shit lying down. Never have, never will.”

Darci stood up, running a hand through her short, spiked cap of black hair before focusing her green eyes on Carrie’s face once more. A small, cold smile danced on her lips as she moved closer to the older woman.

“It’s one thing when you try to make my life miserable, Carrie,” she said, circling to lean her hip on Carrie’s table, studying the work in progress there.

Carrie just sat there, glaring at Darci, her small mouth puckering in an ugly scowl.

“But it’s another when you start messing with my job, when you start dragging my friends into it.”

Carrie opened her mouth, sputtering, but Darci just slashed at the air with her hand and snapped, “Shut the fuck up. Got it? You totally fucked up this time. You fucked with my job. Bad enough you have to try to smear my name, but you had to go and smear the name of a good man and try to ruin his marriage. You’ve probably ruined friendships, but they can go to hell, because if they believe a word that comes out of your mouth, then they’ve got rocks for brains. But you hurt people this time. And not just me. That totally, totally pisses me off, and me pissed off is a very, very bad thing.”

Carrie’s face was florid now and her mouth opened and closed. Something not quite lucid passed through her dark, muddy eyes as her hand closed around a cutting tool and Darci narrowed her eyes. “Try it, babe. Just try it. I dare you.”

Carrie’s hand fell away, fisting in her lap as she stared at Darci, hatred lurking in her eyes.

“Why did you have to drag Joe into it?” Darci asked quietly. “Why him?”

Bitingly, Carrie said, “I didn’t drag him into it. He did it himself. Maybe he should have thought of the consequences before he broke his wedding vows.” She folded her hands primly in her lap and forced her mouth into that proper, mothering smile.

Darci rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’ll be like that at St. Peter’s gates, won’t you? But Peter will know the truth. And so do I. So don’t waste my time.” Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Is it a hobby? Do you enjoy ruining people’s lives? Is yours so pathetic that this is what you have to do for kicks?”

“She’s been doing it a long time, I’d say the answer is yes,” a deep voice, full of anger, said.

Darci looked up just as Joe walked in, his eyes on her and Carrie, his face cold with disgust. “Tell me something, Carrie, do you really think you can keep this up and get away with it?” he asked.

“Joe, I really don’t know what you are talking about. But maybe you should be at home, trying to repair your marriage, instead of here, trying to blame me,” Carrie said, her voice waspish. But her eyes darted away from him, her hands quivering just slightly.

“Now Darci here, Darci is, naturally, very upset. Bad enough she can’t seem to keep her indiscretions quiet, and with single men. But she’s tried to interfere with a man and his marriage. Of course, if she had learned to think before acting…well, she wouldn’t be in the hot water she is in,” Carrie said, her eyes taking on a kindly glow as she moved to pat Darci’s hand. “I understand that she could lose her job-”

Darci caught the older woman’s hand before Carrie could touch her and, pressing her thumb on the nerves in Carrie’s wrist, watched as Carrie’s face paled and her eyes darkened with pain. “Haven’t I told you about touching me?” she warned. “Haven’t I warned you before to stay away from me? Very, very far away from me?”

Carrie gasped and Darci threw her hand down and stepped back. She cut her gaze to Joe, arching a black brow at him. “I imagine you’ve been hearing the same tripe that I have?” Darci drawled.

“Oh, yes. Missy is the one who called me this morning, told me how her phone line had been burning all night, people wanting to know if it’s true, am I getting a divorce? Are you and me getting hitched…” Joe’s voice trailed off as he paused by a shelf, reaching up to pick up a blown glass ball, shot through with threads of red and gold. Tossing it from one hand to another, he turned and met Darci’s eyes. “Sorry, sugar. It’s not that I don’t respect you…but well…”

Darci smiled slightly. “A divorce, huh? That was quick.”

Carrie said sweetly, “Now, Joe, I’m sure you and your wife can work it out.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Cut the crap, Carrie. We all know the truth here.”

Joe propped his hips against one of the numerous work counters, staring at Carrie with glacial eyes. “I grew up in this town. I may be twenty years younger than you-but I’ve been watching your machinations since I was a kid. Reporters are very good observers. After forty plus years of living, well, let’s just say, I know you. No acts, please. Otherwise, I’ll go front page tomorrow with the phone call I got the other day. How you know information that Becka hasn’t shared with anybody, other than Darci and her assistant. One has to wonder how you know that. And I just may write that article anyway.”

Carrie blinked and the mask fell away. Slyly, she said, “You can’t prove anything.”

A slow smile curled his mouth and he said simply, “Miz Forrest, I don’t have to. Words are everything, as a gossipmonger should know. And people are going to have to wonder what you were up to, what kind of trouble you were trying to cause…when they have proof you were lying. Just how many people did you tell that story to?”

Carrie just smiled cattily. “Nobody knows I lied. And people just love a scandal.”

“Well, now that’s true…which I’m going to assume means you told quite a few people. But you should have picked a different night.” Joe grinned and Darci had to smile at the satisfaction she saw in his eyes. He continued, his voice level, eyes direct. “Because you see, Darci was at a skating rink for a birthday party for my niece. It was thrown together at the last minute because my brother-in-law had to go out of town for the next few weeks.”

“And Missy spent the morning getting her pictures from the party developed. She’s going to hit the entire town with them, if I know my sister.” Joe smiled, reaching up to scratch his chin. “You know how fast she talks, how much she likes to talk. By nightfall, damn near everybody is going to see those pictures-time-stamped pictures-of Darci at the party last night.”

If Darci wasn’t mistaken, Carrie growled. A low, furious sound under her breath before jerking her eyes away and focusing on her mangled leg, rubbing it with both hands.

“I’ve got to wonder-some people will brush it off, I know, but others? Well, I wonder, are they going to start to ask why in the hell you’d tell such an obvious lie?” Joe moved over to where Carrie was massaging her leg and he leaned down, a sardonic grin on his grizzled face. She lifted her gaze, staring at him with hatred as Joe said, “You should really try to get your story straight and make sure the lady you’re spreading rumors about is actually at home, alone, before you start telling stories about her.”

Darci felt the knot that had been present in her belly since last night loosen just a bit. She breathed out a silent sigh of relief and slid Joe a look of gratitude.

Of course, pictures weren’t going to mean a thing to Della. Her ears still stung from her friend’s furious phone calls. All the pictures in the world wouldn’t mean anything to Della.

Darci lifted her eyes and stared at Carrie, at the smirk in her muddy eyes. The old bitch knew what was circling through Darci’s head. Even though the story was falling to shreds around her, Carrie had at least succeeded in one thing. She had cost Darci a dear friendship.

Softly, Darci voiced the words that had crossed her thoughts earlier. “You have got to be the saddest, most pathetic creature I have ever met in my life,” Darci said, shaking her head.

Carrie froze, her eyes wide. For a brief second, naked pain shone in her eyes.

Joe chuckled. “Nobody’s ever called you out before, have they, lady? Does the truth hurt?”

“Get out!” Her pasty face turning florid with rage, Carrie glared at them hatefully as she shouted, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Smirking a little, Darci said, “Now maybe you have an idea of just how angry I am, Carrie.” Pacing back over to where Carrie sat, Darci snarled down into her homely, hate-filled face. “I’ve told you this before,” Darci said, her voice soft and low. “You didn’t listen. I’ll tell you once more and I’d advise you to pay attention this time. Stay away from me. Stay very, very far away from me.”

Kellan Grant looked up as Darci Law stalked away from Carrie Forrest’s house, her face white with fury, twin flags of color riding high on her cheeks. Her head was down so she never even saw him parked just a few yards away from her.

But he saw her…hell, he saw her in his dreams.

Sleek, slender with subtle curves and an ass that drove him crazy, the woman drew eyes everywhere she went.

Damn, but she was a cute thing.

He had thought so from day one when she had moved into town more than five years ago, all big eyes, gamine features and sharp tongue. Pretty mouth. Nice plump little breasts, sleekly rounded hips, nice ass…damn, he really liked that ass. He had been going through a messy divorce at the time and still didn’t care to be involved with a woman for more time than it took to get her naked and bury his dick inside her for twenty minutes or so.

His ex had taken him for a ride and he wasn’t interested in getting back on that particular roller coaster.

And he knew Darci wasn’t about unattached sex, uncomplicated fucks, or a quick lay. There was little about Darci that was uncomplicated.

He ran a hand through the thick, deep auburn hair he had been born with, and hated, most of his life. What in the hell was he doing here? He rested his hands on the steering wheel and told himself he really didn’t want to get involved in whatever mess this woman was trying to create.

“I need to have a word with you, Sheriff,” Carrie had told him when he’d called her back this afternoon. “It’s rather important…but very private. Just some information that you should know.”

So what in the hell was going on in her deluded mind now?

Knocking on the door, he waited for Carrie’s personal assistant to answer. Or her slave, as she was also known. Kim was basically Carrie’s bitch, and everybody, including Kim, knew that. Carrie said jump and Kim would only ask how high. Once upon a time, Kellan had seen slavish devotion in Kim’s quiet green eyes.

Now he just saw weariness.

She opened the door and said softly, “Carrie really doesn’t want visitors, Sheriff Grant.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But she called for me, and if she wants to talk to me in the next few days, now is the time,” he said politely. Maybe she’d say, that’s fine, another time…and he could go about his job without listening to the complaining of the tired old shrew.

Kim swallowed and Kellan felt his heart break a little for her as he glimpsed the unhappiness in her eyes. What in the hell did Carrie have over her? Or was Kim still convinced that Carrie was the woman she pretended to be?

Kellan knew better. Hell, he suspected half the town knew, but they were so used to the status quo that they didn’t say shit. Carrie and Beth…as he followed Kim up the stairs to Carrie’s studio, he imagined what the town might have been like if those two hadn’t hooked up. They had never really interacted, until the gallery, and life had been sweeter then.

If they hadn’t gotten together, maybe people would actually trust each other. Maybe they wouldn’t automatically assume the worst of each other.

Kim walked away after pointing to the closed door at the end of the hall, folding her arms around herself, her head down. Kellan walked on, dark auburn brows arched over his hazel eyes as he listened to the stream of hostility coming from the room.

A regular tapping interspersed heavy steps. Carrie was pacing. She had been in an accident when she was a teenager, sitting in the backseat of a car when the friend who was driving ran a red light, and didn’t see the oncoming car in time to stop. One friend had been thrown from the car and had died instantly.

Carrie’s leg had been pinned and broken in three places, and as a result, she walked with a limp.

“…bitch. I can’t believe…damn it, get over here. I don’t care what you’re in the middle of,” she was saying.

Kellan arched a brow, hardly able to believe the harsh, angry voice was Carrie’s. Oh, he knew the stoic mother figure she presented to the community wasn’t her real nature. But he’d never before heard such clear evidence of it.

He lifted his hand and knocked loudly, right in the middle of her next sentence, and had the honor of hearing superb acting skill as her voice went from shrewish bitch to suffering martyr.

What Kellan wouldn’t have given to have been able to see the transformation taking place, and not just hear it.

“Just…just one moment, please. I need a moment,” Carrie said, and he heard a very loud, very dramatic sigh. A moment passed and then the door opened, revealing Carrie with a pale but composed face. He wasn’t surprised that she still managed to suck people in. She looked entirely too motherly to be the person he knew her to be.

“Sheriff Grant.” She stood still, her eyes wide behind the thick lenses, her black plastic frames perched on her nose. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really expecting any visitors-I told Kim I needed some time alone.” She smiled that sweet mother’s smile before she added gently, “I just…had a falling out with Darci. It’s been some time coming, and I don’t think we’ll be able to repair the rift this time.”

Kellan arched a brow and said, “I was under the impression that you two were never friends anyway. What rift would there be to mend?”

His sharp gaze caught the hot fury that flashed for the quickest second in her eyes. But he had to wonder, how bad had Darci pissed her off? Jibes generally weren’t enough to faze her.

“Now, that just isn’t true, Kellan,” she said, her smile dimming a bit. “Just because there’s been some strife lately between our gallery and Becka’s…well…you know she’s never been entirely right in the head.”

Kellan arched a brow. “I hadn’t paid much attention. But it’s never really been my concern anyway.” He shrugged as he moved over to the couch and settled down, watching Carrie with waiting eyes. “Exactly what did you need to talk to me about?”

Carrie’s eyes clouded for the briefest second, and Kellan watched, wondering if she had forgotten.

Finally, she nodded. With a downward glance at her hands, she heaved a deep, tired sigh.

Twenty minutes later, Kellan was stomping out of her house, aggravated beyond all belief.

Carrie had wanted to let him know that she suspected Darci was guilty of a crime that hadn’t even been reported yet. What an absolute fucking waste of time.

Becka had supposedly had money stolen.

And lo, Darci gets a fancy new camera that sells for thousands. Not only that, Carrie had seen her skulking around the gallery hours after it had closed.

“Wednesday. Around seven. Then I heard rumors that she was at the Golden Inn with Joe,” Carrie had said, her voice rougher, deeper than normal. For once, it wasn’t that annoying nasal twang.

“Are you sure you want to go on record with that statement?” Kellan had asked, reaching up to rub his neck. She’d called him here with an obviously contrived story, and now stood there, lying through her teeth. “Sure you want to tell me that she was seen at the gallery? Because if something comes up, I’ll be reporting your statement, as you tell it now. And you could be called as a witness.”

With her martyr’s sigh, Carrie had nodded. “I know that. But right is right, wrong is wrong. It will hurt to stand against Darci, she’s such a unique individual, and I do quite like her a lot. But I have to do the right thing.”

Kellan had arched a brow at her and suggested, “Then tell the truth. I really don’t think it’s wise for you to be telling an officer of the law that you saw a woman skulking around an office when twenty other people saw her at the skating rink. Myself included. And I’d really like to know how she could have possibly been at the Golden with some guy. When she was supposedly at the gallery skulking around, and at a skating party. Not just in two places at once, but three. Now, that’s impressive.”

Carrie’s mouth had gone tight as he continued, “Daisy is my cousin, you know. Well, second cousin. Her daddy and I are first cousins and he is going out of town this morning on business. He didn’t want to miss her party, so Missy threw one together Wednesday. And Darci met Missy around 5:30 that evening to help get stuff together. They went to the Wal-Mart in Madison for cake and stuff. They even have receipts, with Darci’s signature on them. Missy made damn sure that JT, down at the office, saw those. JT is a tad bit upset as well-she is pretty fond of both Joe and Darci. And that’s how I know all of this. I had no more than stepped foot in the station this morning when JT was all over me with this information. Took a few minutes to figure out what receipts and pictures had to do with the Golden Inn, but then I figured it out. Of course, this is the first I’ve heard about her skulking around the gallery.”

So what in the hell was going on? he wondered, dragging his mind back to the present. Some bitchy old loon calling him up to tell him obviously fabricated tales. Willing, even, to lie about it on record, it seemed.

And the rumors…hell, the rumors. There were so many, it was a wonder any of them knew what the truth was.

Hell, he knew who had started most of the rumors.

Her name was Carrie Forrest and, in a fit of fury, she had thrown him out of her house after he had informed her that her story-which was really rather pointless, since no crime had been reported-was full of holes. Holes large enough to drive a school bus through.

So what in the hell was going on with Carrie now?

“I hate that whey-faced, bratty little bitch,” Carrie whispered, as Beth walked back and forth across the room.

“If you had just made sure she was home,” Peggy murmured, shaking her head. “It’s a delicious little rumor. She could have lost her job. Nobody wants a tramp teaching schoolchildren, after all. But nobody will believe what’s being said about her, after the last one was such a bold-faced lie.”

Kim sat curled on the chair, biting her nails nervously.

Tricia Casey sat in the corner, sipping tea, her neatly styled gray hair swept back in a chignon, her eyes watching the tableau before her with great interest. “You told too many tales,” she said, shaking her head. “I know we’d rather just see Dreams die-” she smirked a little at her own personal joke. “And Becka losing Darci would do a lot of damage to her emotionally. She might not be able to handle it. But gossip is one thing. This wasn’t gossip. It was bold-faced lying. You’re not as good at that as I am.”

Beth scowled at Tricia and said, “Nobody would have listened to you. You’re too new here. They like Darci.” Beth’s lined face looked much older than it really was. Casting a bitter look at Carrie, Beth said harshly, “You caused this mess, Carrie. Damn it, you shouldn’t have done something so damned huge. Not with Darci. Too many people like her and she’s too damned outspoken. She doesn’t take things lying down. You should have figured that out by now.”

Carrie slammed her charcoal pencil down and glared at all of them. “Would you shut up? I don’t need to hear this from you. Not from any of you,” she shouted. A startled look crossed her face and she swallowed. “I-I’m sorry. This is giving me such a headache.”

She muttered, “How in the hell was I supposed to know Darci wouldn’t be going home? She said she was going home. And I’m not about to just let her get by with the snipes she makes at me. How she treats me like shit, like I was just like anybody else… I’m better…” As she spoke, her voice started to take on a little singsong quality, drifting up and down. Lowering herself into her chair, she smiled, and those who saw it took a minute to wonder. That smile was…wrong. Her eyes started to gleam as she whispered, “And that damned gallery. I hate it…I hate all of them.”

“Carrie, you need to get hold of yourself,” Tricia said quietly.

Carrie blinked, looking confused. Looking from one woman to another, she didn’t like the looks she saw, disgust, worry, fear. Nothing to worry about, she told herself, turning back to her desk, lowering herself into the chair. Nothing to worry about.

Aloud, she said, “I know what I’m doing. I’m doing what’s best for all of us, for the gallery.” Taking a charcoal pencil in hand, she started to sketch.

“Don’t go acting like this had something to do with the business,” Beth said flatly. “This was personal. Which means if anybody has problems from it, it will be you. Not us. You.”

“There aren’t going to be problems,” Carrie muttered, her hand moving rapidly over the heavy paper. Her eyes were wide and feverish, locked on the work in front of her.

“I hope not.”

Darci was kicking back at the café when Kellan crossed the street, carrying a white sack in his hand.

Dotti’s.

His work day was over and he had gone to Dotti’s again for dinner. Like he did most every night.

Darci knew, because any time she was in town, she looked for him. And at this time of day, he was usually heading out. Over the past couple of years, she had spent a lot of time studying him.

And the first thought that drifted through her mind was Damn, but that man has one fine butt.

The strong columns of his thighs, that firm ass, his back, everything from the back view added up to one fine piece of man-flesh. Yep. There was just one thing to say about him.

Damn, he was fine.

His eyes… She loved those eyes. And his hands-she hummed under her breath as she thought of just what she’d like to see those hands doing.

Darci bet he hated that hair. It was deep, deep dark red, worn a little longer now than he used to wear it, past his collar, brushing his shoulder. His skin was a warm mellow gold, not the pale white she normally associated with redheads. Against that golden skin, his hazel eyes gleamed, glowing green-gold one minute, then amber the next.

You are obsessed.

In response to her silent, self-directed comment, she muttered, “Yep,” and chuckled.

Tipping back the cappuccino, she took another savoring sip, humming in appreciation as she swallowed.

A low humph reached her ears and she arched a brow as Clive sent her a narrow look. “Listen, you skinny little white girl, you planning on going home soon or are you going to keep sitting here lookin’ purty?” he razzed. “Or better yet, go have some fun. Pretty thing like you needs to be out having fun on a night like this. Not sitting there brooding.”

She pursed her lips. “I think I’ll just sit here and brood,” she drawled, tapping her cup. “I want another, and a biscotti. A chocolate one dipped in white chocolate.”

Clive grinned at her and said, “Girl, don’t you think you should be out combing the woods and pointing that camera at things? You need to be taking photo-graphs, dontcha? We need some photo-graphs.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “I don’t feel like taking photo-graphs,” drawing the word out the same way he did, mimicking his deep Southern accent. “I’m taking a break. Is that okay with you, buddy?”

He smiled, his teeth white inside the grizzled salt and pepper of his beard. “Sure thing, lady. You’re a pretty knickknack to have sitting around my shop, that’s for sure.” Then his eyes sobered. “I was wondering, though, are you mebbe tryin’ to avoid being by yourself, tryin’ to avoid doin’ any serious thinking? Serious thoughts tend to hurt some when somebody has struck out at ya, somebody who was a friend.”

Her eyes drifted away and she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, that’s for sure. I figure when I’m less likely to brood, I’ll get some work done. I’m too good at brooding though. I don’t need the headache it’s going to give me.”

Clive set her mocha down in front of her, the biscotti on a plate with a lace doily. After patting her shoulder with an arthritic hand, he hobbled away. “Take your time, girl. You just take your time. Like I said, pretty face like yours around here ain’t gonna hurt my business none,” he told her over his shoulder.

She eventually moved to the padded window seat and pulled out a book, reading until she had a crick in her neck and her hands were shaky from excess caffeine.

Even then, she didn’t go home. Closing her eyes, she daydreamed, her mind drifting, chasing itself around in circles. The low hum of conversation around her lulled her, and eased her even farther into her daze.

When Clive came up later and patted her shoulder, his eyes were dark and thoughtful as he studied her. “Girl, I’m almost tempted to just stay open all night. I can tell you don’t wanna go home and be alone wit’ yourself. But it’s late, and I’m tired,” he drawled, pulling a chair up. “You know, sooner or later, the people who caused this mess for you are going to get what’s comin’ to them. What goes around does indeed come around.”

“Yeah, well, a couple of these people have been causing this kind of shit for years. And nothing’s ever come of it,” Darci said wearily. “And they aren’t even the worst of it. They aren’t the ones who bothered me the most.”

“Oh, I know…it’s Della. You admired that woman-imagine you still do. It’s hard to shut down what’s in your heart when ya look up to somebody as much as you did her. I do know that she’s got plenty of people who aren’t very happy with her.”

Her mouth curled up in a sad smile. “I don’t want anybody mad at her. That doesn’t solve anything.”

“No. And it doesn’t make you feel any better. Nothing is gonna do that. Nothing changes the fact that she believed somebody’s lies,” Clive said, his low, soothing voice lulling her frazzled nerves. “Now you listen up. I’m going make you up a special drink, and you don’t be tellin’ nobody about it. And you can’t give me money, cuz I ain’t allowed to sell alcohol. But I’m gonna fix it. And then I’m gonna drive you home. You can drink it there.”

He patted her hand and stood up. “Once you get there, you’re going to go up, get in bed and finish drinking it. And sleep. And put this mess behind you-however you have to do it.”