Second Chances. Valerie HansenЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I’ve never meant anything more in my whole life.”
Paul managed to keep himself occupied all afternoon by strolling around town and stopping to make casual conversation whenever he got the opportunity. He was amazed at how few of the old-timers recognized him at first. And at how shocked they looked when he identified himself. Clearly, they remembered the punk kid with the perpetual chip on his shoulder and were having trouble believing the changes he’d made in his image. Good, he thought, satisfied. That was exactly what he’d intended.
Beginning at the Mom and Pop café and gas station located next to the only traffic light in town, he worked his way through the pharmacy and the farm bureau office, then strolled the last block to the town square. A green, close-cropped lawn surrounded the courthouse. Most of the benches in the shade of the maple trees were occupied by old men, heads nodding sleepily. As usual, Serenity was so serene it gave him the willies.
Paul snorted in self-derision as he entered the hardware store on the north side of the square. All the businesses on that block faced the old brick courthouse, which meant he could stand on the opposite side of the square and position himself to look directly at the door to the Chamber of Commerce without attracting undue attention.
Ever since he’d learned Belinda worked there, he’d been trying to ignore that particular office. And he’d failed miserably. It looked like he was either going to have to pay his old flame a visit and try to clear the air, or resign himself to his grinding gut and buy a giant supply of antacids to calm the ulcer that usually flared up when he was under a lot of stress.
Paul opted for the visit. He’d written dozens of letters to Belinda over the years but had never mailed any of them. Initially, he’d focused on defending himself until he’d realized how futile that was. Later, he’d simply apologized for his anger. The last attempt had been a letter of condolence when he’d heard that her father had died. Worried that it might seem inappropriate because of his volatile past association with the man, he’d torn it up instead of sending it.
Remembering, he paused near the front of the hardware store, just inside the door.
“Something I can help you with, mister?” the skinny, slightly stooped proprietor asked. “You’d best hurry. We’re about to close.”
Paul snapped out of his reverie and smiled pleasantly. “Sorry. I was just looking, anyway. Do you happen to know how late the Chamber of Commerce stays open?”
“Till five, like the rest of us,” the man said. “Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Chuckling, Paul shook his head. That was at least the tenth time that day he’d been asked the same question in exactly the same words. “Nope. I’m an outsider. Definitely an outsider.” He offered his hand. “The name’s Randall. The Whitaker sisters are my great-aunts.”
Accepting Paul’s hand, the proprietor shook it heartily. “Well, well. I didn’t know Miss Prudence and Miss Patience had kin in these parts. Where’d you say you was from?”
“I settled in Harrison after I got out of law school,” Paul told him. “I’m just visiting here.”
“Well, if you’re fixin’ to repair that old house of theirs, we got the best selection of plumbing and electrical parts in the county.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your time.” When the man opened his mouth and began to add to his sales pitch, Paul headed for the door. “I can’t stay and talk right now, but I’ll be sure to check back with you later. I need to run over to the Chamber office before it closes.”
“Tell Miss Belinda I said howdy.”
“Right.” Waving a congenial goodbye, Paul crossed the wide, shady street at an angle and started to jog across the courthouse lawn. The digital clock in front of the bank on the north-west corner read four fifty-five.
All afternoon Belinda had fidgeted at her desk, eagerly awaiting quitting time so she could close the office. She’d already straightened the racks of brochures and maps several times and dusted everything in sight. All that was left to do was turn off the lights, lock up and make a dash for home. The sooner the better.
At five minutes to five, she started for the door, the click of her heels echoing in the empty office. Surely all the evenings she’d stayed open late would make up for leaving a few minutes early this time. One hand was poised over the Open sign, the other reaching for the lock, when a dark-haired, sophisticated-looking man in navy blue slacks and a sky-blue sport shirt appeared at the door.
He was tall, broad-shouldered and moved with an athletic grace. His hair was cut in the smooth, full style of a successful executive, except that it was long enough in the back to brush against his shirt collar.
Belinda’s heart recognized him a few seconds before her brain agreed. She froze in mid-motion, sorely tempted to slam the door and bolt it. She didn’t care if she did represent Serenity. That didn’t mean she had to be nice to the likes of Paul Randall.
He glanced at his gleaming gold wristwatch. “I thought I still had a few minutes.”
“Sorry. The office is closed.”
“Too bad,” he said with a wry smile. “I need some information about this interesting little town.”
Belinda was not about to let him get the upper hand. “Fine.” She grabbed a random handful of colorful brochures pertaining to the area and thrust them at him. “Here.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do,” Paul said, stepping through the half-open door.
She gave ground. “I told you. The office is closed.” The spicy aroma of his aftershave affected her strongly and made her want to put even more distance between them.
Paul’s smile grew into a self-satisfied grin as he looked her up and down. “Humor me. I have as much right as anybody to be treated with respect. All I want from you is a few facts.”
Whether she liked it or not, he’d made a good point. Fair was fair. Besides, it wouldn’t do to let on that she was still mad enough at him to make her blood boil. A contrary man like Paul Randall would probably enjoy seeing that she was upset, and she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.
Circling him widely, hurriedly, Belinda said, “All right. What can the Serenity Chamber of Commerce do for you? I’ll give you two minutes.”
Paul’s gaze met hers, challenged it, held it. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. Perhaps I’d better come back tomorrow when you have more free time.”
And make me go through this emotional turmoil all over again? No way! The smartest thing she could do was give him the information he wanted, right now, and be rid of him.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, pleased at how calm and businesslike she sounded in spite of her quaking insides and righteous indignation. She rounded the end of the counter to put a solid physical barrier between them. “What is it you need?”
“Well… A list of the commercial property within four blocks in any direction from my aunts’ estate, for starters.”
“You need to go to the county office for that and you know it,” Belinda said, scowling. “What do you really want?”
Inwardly tense, Paul kept his posture relaxed, his smile as enigmatic as he could make it. He’d known that facing Belinda again would be difficult but he’d had no idea what a strong, gut-level reaction he’d have to her. That had been such a surprise he found he could hardly think straight, let alone come up with reasonable-sounding excuses for tracking her down while he was in town.
The most sensible option was probably to tell her the plain truth. The minute he’d set foot in Serenity again he’d felt he had to see her, to talk to her, to make her understand that he hadn’t been responsible