Книга - Past, Present And A Future

Past, Present And A Future
Janice Carter


He was her first loveAt Twin Falls High School, Gil Harper and Clare Morgan were inseparable–until the murder of a classmate tore their world, and their relationship, apart.Gil was a prime suspect in the murder, and although he was quickly cleared of all charges, Clare was never sure why Gil hadn't told her the whole story of his relationship with Rina Thomas. Their trust was shattered, and their plans for the future were buried along with the truth about Rina's murder.Now, years later, Clare returns to her hometown, where she is troubled by thoughts of what might have been. Could she and Gil have lived "happily ever after," like her friends Laura and Dave? Clare is finally getting a chance to find out….









“Let’s go to your place and take it from there.”


Gil looked at Clare a few more seconds, trying to decipher the expression in her eyes, but he couldn’t. At least she’d made the right choice. They had to finish what they’d begun.

Once inside, he helped her off with her coat. He froze when he brushed against her neck, mesmerized by the memory of the first time he’d touched it. He wanted desperately to stroke her skin and press his lips against her hair.

“Something wrong?”

Clare’s words brought him back to life. He whisked her coat off her shoulders and took it to the hall closet. Her footsteps echoed behind him.

“Didn’t we try to do this the other day?” she quipped as she came into the room.

He realized what she meant when he saw her nod toward the writing supplies on the table. “Maybe we’ll have better luck the second time around.”


Dear Reader,

Most of us, at one time or another, have attended a high school or college reunion and have learned that seeing old friends can sometimes be hurtful as well as exhilarating. Going back isn’t always easy to do. In fact, it can be downright risky—as Clare Morgan discovers in Past, Present and a Future.

Returning to Twin Falls, Connecticut, for the first time in seventeen years is much more than a trip down memory lane for Clare. What started out as a visit to attend the christening of her best friend’s new baby becomes a confrontation with Clare’s worst memories of her senior year in high school. Betrayal. Distrust. Murder.

And a key player in her memories—Clare’s former boyfriend, her first love, Gil Harper—has returned for the christening, as well.

Going back offers Clare an opportunity to put things right—to lay to rest for once and for all the painful memories of her seventeenth summer. Only then, Clare realizes, can a future with Gil Harper be possible.

Enjoy!

Janice Carter




Past, Present and a Future

Janice Carter







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Susan Hess, valued friend, great sister-in-law and terrific brainstormer.

Not to mention the best aunt in the world.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN




CHAPTER ONE


GOOD NEWS and bad news. Funny how the two often came together. Clare read the e-mail a second time. Her best friend since elementary school was the proud mother of a baby girl named Emma. Clare felt a rush of emotion that was a mix of joy and envy.

The bad news was that Laura wanted her to be the child’s godmother, which meant going back home to Twin Falls, Connecticut. And home—somewhere she hadn’t visited in the last seventeen years—was the last place on earth Clare Morgan wanted to set foot.

She quickly sent a return congratulatory message, expressing delight at the request but avoiding a definite reply by saying she’d telephone on the weekend. That would give her two days to come up with a plausible excuse to politely decline. She was flattered that Laura had thought of her, but she couldn’t see herself in the role of a godmother.

Such as? Clare leaned back in her chair. There was no way she could refuse. Laura Kingsway, nee Dundas, had been her best friend since they’d started school together at Mountview Elementary in Miss Goodfellow’s kindergarten class. Their friendship had weathered upheavals such as the divorce of Clare’s parents when she was nine, along with boyfriend troubles during their high school years. Though their separation due to college and careers had altered the nature of their relationship to one of phone and e-mail—in fact, the last time Clare had seen Laura was at her marriage to Dave Kingsway two years ago—they were still close.

Twin Falls. Clare had difficulty uttering her hometown’s name even in her head. She still couldn’t believe that Laura and Dave had chosen to move back there. But then, Laura hadn’t been affected by the whole sordid mess seventeen years ago in quite the same way that Clare had.

Clare shut down the computer. She was having lunch with her editor to discuss changes to her upcoming book tour to promote her second novel. It was an important meeting and one that Clare had been anticipating for several days. The book had—to Clare’s astonishment—recently made the New York Times bestseller list a mere three weeks after its launch. She just hoped today’s news wouldn’t diminish her enjoyment of the celebratory luncheon.



“SALUT!” Alix Bennett clinked her champagne flute delicately against Clare’s.

Clare took her first taste of Cristal, savoring its crisp fruitiness and thinking she could get used to the trappings of success.

“So when can we expect the next proposal?” Alix asked.

“Maybe a couple of weeks?”

Alix nodded. “Try to get it in as soon as possible. It’d be nice to be able to mention it during some of your appearances.”

“You haven’t even offered me a contract yet.”

“After the success of Growing up in Paradise I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Not after what you’ve already told me about this new one.”

“Tina really likes it,” Clare said, referring to her agent.

“Too bad she couldn’t make it for lunch today.”

“She’s unbelievably busy but promised to make the next one.”

“You mean the signing celebration for the new one?” Alix smiled.

Giddiness swept through Clare. She still had difficulty believing that all this heady success was indeed happening to her. “Assuming you buy it,” she repeated.

“Given the initial sales of Growing up in Paradise, it’s a done deal. But don’t quote me on that,” Alix said with a mischievous grin. She paused while the waiter set down their appetizers. After he left, she asked, “So, what’s new in your life these days? Aside from the dizziness of fame?”

Clare smiled. Her editor loved to tease and had a penchant for hyperbole—certainly a plus when it came to pitching a book to the honchos who made the final decisions. “My best friend just had a baby girl. She wants me to be godmother.”

“Ahh, that’s nice. And a compliment.”

“Yes. Laura and I haven’t seen each other for a couple of years. Her family lived just down the street from mine in Twin Falls. We met in kindergarten.”

“Wow! Not many people can lay claim to that kind of long friendship.”

“She married a guy from Twin Falls, too. Dave. They dated briefly in high school, then split up and got back together again in college.”

“No kidding? When I think of the guys I dated in high school, no way would I want to end up with any one of them.”

Thinking of just such a guy, Clare averted her gaze from Alix to the table. She waited for the usual uneasiness that accompanied thoughts of Gil Harper to surface but when nothing happened, she raised her head with an almost audible sigh of relief.

“You okay? Thought I’d lost you there for a sec.”

“Must be the champagne,” Clare said. “I’m not used to drinking at lunch.”

“Hey, you’d better get used to it. I see lots of celebrations ahead in your future.”

“Book sales will be good enough for me, believe me. All of this,” she gestured toward the plush interior of the Plaza, “is wonderful but not really my thing.”

“Not really mine either, frankly.” Alix put a chunk of artichoke into her mouth. “So we should enjoy while the boss is paying.”

Clare followed suit, though her appetite had waned at the unbidden memory of Gil Harper. She tried to concentrate on Alix’s patter of conversation, but her mind kept going back to the man responsible for her self-imposed exile from Twin Falls. Giving up, Clare pushed her half-eaten salad aside.

“I just had a brilliant idea,” Alix piped up as the waiter began to remove their plates.

“What?”

“The book tour’s supposed to start in a couple of weeks, right?”

Clare nodded.

“And you said this friend who wants you to be godmother still lives in your hometown?”

Another nod, accompanied by a rising dread.

“So how about an appearance right in Twin Falls? I mean, the symbolism’s perfect. A coming-of-age book based on your life in Twin Falls—”

“Loosely based,” Clare emphasized.

Alix shrugged. “Whatever. But I bet you’re not fooling anyone back home with name changes and a bit of reconstruction.”

Clare fiddled with the cutlery in front of her. “Perhaps not, but I didn’t intend to market the book as a memoir. It’s a novel. Fiction,” she added, reinforcing her argument.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the whole human interest angle I like. Small town girl—okay, woman—makes it big writing a novel based loosely on her life in said small town. Having a book signing and interviews with local media from say, the town’s quaint bookstore—”

“There is no bookstore in Twin Falls. At least, there wasn’t one seventeen years ago.”

“Hey, things change. If no bookstore, they’ve got to have a public library. Right?”

“I’m not—” Clare hesitated. She and Alix had a friendly relationship, but they were not friends and definitely not confidantes. How could she adequately explain her reluctance to go along with such an unthinkable scheme without spilling her guts about the event that had wreaked havoc with so many lives so long ago?

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“You started to say something. Sorry, you know me. I get carried away.”

“It’s just that, I’m not sure if I’m going to take Laura up on her offer of being godmother. It’s…it’s a big commitment.” The excuse, lame to her own ears, left Alix’s mouth slightly agape.

“Seriously? But isn’t she one of your best friends?”

The arrival of the waiter with their main courses gave Clare a few seconds to put together an explanation that would save her from appearing too coldhearted. When he left, she said, “I guess I’m anxious about confronting some people. You know—people who might be offended by certain parts of the book.”

“But as you said, it’s fiction, right?”

Clare didn’t know which bothered her more: Alix’s annoying habit of using the word right constantly or her pushiness. But she did know she wanted the lunch to end as pleasantly—and as quickly—as possible. “I’ll give it some thought,” she demurred and fixed her attention on her pasta.

After a slight pause, Alix picked up her own fork. “I have to pass it through marketing anyway, but think about it.”



TWO WEEKS LATER, Clare’s fears were realized. Driving out of New York City in her rental car, she couldn’t help but wonder what quirk of fate had plunked her on this inextricable path to her past.

First there had been the tense phone call with Laura, who saw through Clare’s reservations about being godmother immediately. “Don’t pretend you’re too far away to take on the responsibilities of being a godmother to Emma when you and I both know what this is all about,” she’d said.

And when Clare had protested otherwise, Laura merely suggested it was time Clare put the past behind her. “All the clichés apply, Clare baby. Face up to it and get over it. Everyone here’s talking about your book. It’s only for a few days and it’d be so great to see you again.”

Guilt had won out in the end. Laura and Dave were her only remaining friends from Twin Falls and she knew she couldn’t afford to lose them. The christening and the start of the book tour had synchronized with minor adjustments and Clare had had no credible reason—short of feigning insanity or some terminal illness—not to go.

And yet once out on the highway, she actually began to enjoy the drive. It was a perfect autumn day in mid-October—a brilliant blue sky teamed with a harvest-gold sun and there was just the slightest crispness in the air. As she headed northeast toward Connecticut, the scenery turned postcard perfect with splashes of color set against dark green pines on the distant hills.

Clare had left early, hoping to arrive in Twin Falls shortly before dinner. Emma’s christening was set for Sunday morning, so she’d have tonight to visit with Laura and Dave before the book signing Saturday afternoon in—to Clare’s surprise—the town’s bookstore, Novel Idea. The rest of Sunday she was free to do as she pleased. The next signing wasn’t until Monday in Hartford, a mere one-hour drive away.

There had been some disagreement about where she would stay. Laura finally agreed that the local hotel was acceptable given that Clare’s publisher was footing the bill.

“Probably for the best,” Laura had said with an emphatic sigh. “One of us might as well get some sleep.”

“How’s she doing?”

Another sigh. “Emma’s doing great. Dave and I are the ones slogging around in a zombielike state.”

Clare had made the expected sounds of sympathy, then remembered to ask, “Who’s the godfather?”

There’d been the slightest pause before Laura mumbled something about Dave not having yet made a decision.

“Dave?”

“We thought it was only fair if I picked the godmother, he should get to choose the godfather. But you know Dave.”

“Still having trouble making up his mind?”

“Tell me about it.”

They’d laughed together and for a few moments Clare was transported to the old days when she and Laura had shared confidences as well as laughter. When she’d hung up, she realized that due to the isolation induced from finishing her book, it had been a long time since she’d had a giggle with anyone.

Clare popped in a Tori Amos CD and let her mind slip into auto-drive. She’d spent the past two weeks in an increasingly heightened state of anxiety about the visit to Twin Falls. Once the decision to go had finally been made, she had tried to ease her jitters by reminding herself that Gil Harper had left town long before she had and she wasn’t likely to bump into him at the local convenience store.

The music kept her free of the past until the first familiar landmarks of Twin Falls appeared—the white bulbous shape of the town’s water tower looming over trees and rooftops, the spire of the Catholic church and on the opposite side of the river that bisected the town, the bell tower of the Methodist. Clare eased up on the accelerator.

She could either enter town from the first highway exit or take the winding road that afforded a panoramic view and led directly into the town center. Impulsively, she chose that route, and turned right onto the smaller, two-lane paved road. She stopped at the crest of the hill, pulling over onto the shoulder to survey the town.

Twin Falls lay in the valley below, spanning both sides of the river. From Clare’s vantage point, it looked much the same as it had when she’d last seen it.

Tempted to make a quick U-turn and hightail it back to New York, Clare forced herself to focus on the reason for her return—to see her old friend, Laura, and to meet Laura’s first child. Returning to Twin Falls wasn’t really going back, she reminded herself, but moving forward, to the next generation. Although, she wished the christening could have been held somewhere else. She shifted into Drive and angled back onto the road, pumping the brake as the Jetta made the downhill curve to the stop sign below.

But now the stop was a three-way, accommodating a road leading to what appeared to be new houses. Good grief. Twin Falls has a subdivision. Clare didn’t know whether to be amused or appalled. The Jetta continued its descent to the two-lane bridge and Clare instinctively turned her head to the right to see the falls that had given the town its name.

The twin watercourses were too narrow and sparse to be famous beyond the scope of the county. Still, their twenty-foot parallel tumble over a granite rock cliff was impressive enough to be an occasional draw for local daredevils or careless youngsters, resulting in a handful of tragic accidents over the years. Clare noticed that a sturdier and higher metal railing had replaced the original wooden one. She also noticed the new traffic lights a few yards past the end of the bridge and slowed to a stop as the amber light turned red.

Clare was surprised at the line of traffic waiting on the other side and wished she’d taken a better look at the Welcome To Twin Falls sign at the top of the hill. The town’s population had obviously risen from three thousand.

Navigating Main Street was as slow as it had always been, though, no longer due to the country gawkers, as Clare’s father had labeled them. Now traffic crawled because there were more cars.

Clare felt she’d joined the gawker’s club herself, with her head turning from side to side. She had expected some changes in Twin Falls, but expansion hadn’t been one of them. At least two chain stores had opened branches on Main Street—small ones, granted, but the name brands must have set aflutter the hearts of the town’s teenage population. Clare and her friends had had to beg for shopping expeditions to Hartford.

At the end of Main Street, she made a left into the older, residential area where Laura and Dave lived. When Clare was a teenager, she had often walked these streets, wondering what treasures or secrets the grand three-story Victorian homes contained. Set far back on manicured lawns, their elegant verandas and etched-glass front doors had symbolized an era and social class far beyond Clare and her circle of friends.

The neighborhood, known as Riverside Park, had housed the descendants of the town founders, the original settlers who had parlayed their pioneering skills into commercial ventures that became the backbone of the town’s economy. After the Second World War, the population of Riverside Park had swelled as sons and daughters returned with their young families for a simpler way of life.

Clare’s and Laura’s parents were among those who had purchased a postwar bungalow on the outskirts of the town near the highway leading to larger urban areas where many found work. Clare realized that the tract of homes where she grew up—the first subdivision in Twin Falls—must have been met with the same concern by the residents of Riverside Park as she had just felt driving by the new homes on the other side of the bridge.

It was funny, Clare thought, that although she’d spent so many years of her adolescence fantasizing about what went on behind those etched-glass doors, it was Laura—who had always vowed to leave Twin Falls—who eventually moved into one of the stately homes. But Clare could hardly complain. Those same fantasies had inspired her to write the novels that were earning her a living.

As she drove along the street memories flooded her mind. There was the house once owned by the town’s doctor and somewhere in the same block—she couldn’t recall the number—was the former mayor’s home. Judging from the sight of extra meter boxes attached to the sides of some of the homes, there had been a shift from single dwellings to apartments.

The size of the homes diminished slightly as she neared the end of Riverside Drive. Clare slowed down, looking for Elmwood Drive, the side street where Laura and Dave lived. She hung a right and scanned the front doors for number fifty-four. It was midway along the street, and there was a free parking space right in front. Clare eased into it, turned off the engine and sat for a minute, studying the house.

It was a two-story fieldstone with a small veranda—more modest than the grander homes closer to the center of town, but impressive all the same. Its wood trim had been painted a dove gray that complemented the stone of the exterior. A latticed trellis, painted the same color, was attached to one of the veranda’s fieldstone pillars and a thick climbing rose, now boasting clusters of rosehips, spread up and across it. Small clumps of evergreen shrubs filled the gap between veranda and lawn in front of the house.

Clare stared at the glow of lamplight in the front bay window. She inhaled deeply, grabbed hold of the car door and pushed it open. No turning back now.

The front door of the house had been flung open by the time Clare had walked up to the sidewalk and Laura was bounding down the veranda steps. She scarcely had a chance to look at her friend before she was enveloped in a bear hug. Then they stood back and smiled at one another.

“You look fabulous,” Clare said. “I would never believe you’ve just had a baby. Have you got highlights in your hair?”

“Yes. Like it?” Laura executed a dainty pivot. Her honey-blond hair was cut in a shoulder-length bob that swirled around her.

“I do! You look great!”

“You have to say that because you’re my friend, but thanks anyway.” Laura’s cheeks dimpled. “Thank goodness for makeup and that stuff that covers up dark circles under the eyes. But look at you! That flaming red hair will never need highlights. You’ve cut it since I last saw you. I like it.”

“I cut it a while ago, but I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“True. Come on, Dave’s opening a bottle of wine. I may even get a chance to gobble down dinner before Emma’s next feeding.”

“How’s the nursing going?”

“Better. It’s weird, isn’t it? That something so natural should be so damn hard at first?”

Clare smiled. No doubt her friend was tackling motherhood with the same zeal that she’d shown on the cheerleading squad. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” was all she said as she walked arm in arm with her up the steps.

Dave greeted them in a small entrance hall. “Congratulations,” he said, hugging Clare. “At last we know someone famous.”

Clare felt the color rise into her face. “Yeah, right,” she quipped and they all laughed. As teenagers, Laura and Clare had made a bet to see who would become rich and famous enough to move away from Twin Falls. Little did we know, Clare thought, that moving away required neither fame nor money.

“I like the goatee,” she said, smiling at Dave.

“Laura hates it, but thanks.” He shot his wife a told-you-so look that had a tinge of reproof in it.

Clare glanced at Laura’s red face. There was an awkward moment that Laura broke by asking, “Do you want to refresh or something?”

“No, I’m fine. I stopped a few miles outside of town for a break.” Clare followed Laura into a large living room. “This is lovely,” she said. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Laura.”

“Sit here, it’s the most comfy chair.” She gestured to a plump chintz-covered armchair next to a sofa where she herself perched.

“Are things okay between you and Dave?” Clare asked as soon as they sat down.

Laura gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be alarmed by the sniping you just witnessed. It’s the usual husband-and-wife tension after the first child.”

“I would’ve thought a baby would bring you closer.”

“She has, but there are other things. Dave isn’t happy with his work and we’ve taken a real pay cut since I decided to stay at home with Emma for a while.”

“Are you getting any help from your folks?”

“They’re living on a fixed income now so…”

“How are they, anyway?”

“Good. They sold their house last year and moved into a new condo on the edge of town.”

“Condos? God, I can’t believe how much this place has changed.”

“Believe it. Did you notice the subdivision as you came in?”

“Yes! And is it my imagination, or are there twice as many cars on the road?”

“Twin Falls is becoming one of those satellite communities you read about. People working in Hartford want to live in a rural environment.” She laughed. “Can you believe it? Twin Falls as a rural environment? Remember how we used to make fun of the farm kids who were bused into school?”

Laura glanced toward the doorway. “Dave must be checking on dinner.” She leaned toward Clare. “Your book is fantastic, Clare. I’m almost finished it. But I have to tell you, everyone’s been talking about it.” She paused a beat. “You know.”

“Know what?”

“C’mon Clare. This is me, Laura. You don’t have to play dumb. It wasn’t very hard to figure out you were writing about Twin Falls. I mean, except for the description of the town and the name changes, it’s all there.”

Clare glanced toward the entrance hall, wishing Dave would appear with their drinks. She’d known this moment was going to happen but trust Laura to get to it right away. “It’s not a secret that some of it is gleaned from here.”

“But how did you get the nerve? I mean, when you and your mother moved away, you swore to put everything behind you.”

“We both know that none of us can really forget what happened, Laura.”

“Well, I have. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to live here.”

“I wondered about that. But then, you weren’t really involved—” Clare broke off when Dave, carrying a tray of glasses and a wine bottle, appeared in the doorway. To her relief, Laura let the subject drop as well, and they made small talk—catching up on the events of the past two years—until dinner.

When dinner was ready, Clare sat at the dining-room table. She watched Dave and Laura bustle back and forth from the kitchen, realizing that she’d never seen Laura in such a domestic context. After high school, they’d gone on to different colleges and settled in different states, keeping sporadic contact with one another via telephone or e-mail. There was a time, Clare thought with some chagrin, when the idea of her best friend cooking a roast-beef dinner with all the trimmings would have amazed her. And, added to this surprising picture of domesticity, was the whole new dimension of motherhood.

A sense of being left behind swept over Clare. She had other friends who were married with children, but none who shared the bond of childhood and adolescence with her. Her friendship with Laura had not been a perfect one, but it had been constant.

Clare was thrilled to see Laura with a new baby and a husband who adored her, but the blissful scene made her own personal life seem so bleak. There was no special man in the picture, much less the prospect of a husband. As for babies…well, maybe in the distant future. Perhaps her life might have followed the same track as Laura’s if only she and Gil Harper had not broken up. That sudden thought made her feel even worse.

“Dave, can you bring the veggies?” Laura stood in the doorway of the dining room, calling back into the kitchen.

Clare fixed a cheerful smile on her face, and asked, “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”

Laura continued on into the room and set a platter of roast beef on the table. “Thanks hon, but we’re fine. Just plain food tonight, but tomorrow we’ve got a sitter and reservations at the hot new place in town.”

“You mean there’s another ‘in’ place besides The Falls Steak and Grill?”

Laura smiled. “Thank goodness. Twin Falls can now boast a three-star restaurant. It’s called Serendipity and the food’s wonderful.”

“I hope you’re going to let me treat.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Laura said, sitting down across from Clare. Dave returned with the vegetables and began to carve the roast.

Clare stared at her two old friends, feeling she’d been pulled back to her adolescence and another Sunday dinner with Laura’s family. An only child, the split-up of Clare’s parents and subsequent divorce had been tough. But her friendship with Laura and her acceptance in the Dundas household had been a comforting refuge from loneliness.

During dinner Laura and Dave filled her in on the changes in town and Clare recounted the story—now oft repeated—of her latest book and its huge success. Dave was in the kitchen making coffee when Clare asked, “Has he made up his mind yet about the godfather?”

Laura didn’t answer at first. She cocked her head and frowned. “I think I hear Emma.”

At the same time, Dave poked his head through the kitchen doorway. “I hear Emma on the intercom.”

Laura jumped up. “I’ll be back after I’ve changed and fed her, Clare. And you’re not to do any dishes. Not tonight, anyway.” She smiled, stooped for a quick hug and dashed from the room.

Clare waited a few more seconds, then got up and began clearing the rest of the dishes. After she and Dave had retreated to the living room with coffee, Laura brought in the baby, holding her proudly in front of Clare.

“This is Emma, your goddaughter.”

Clare peered down into the small pink face. “She’s so cute! And she’s going to be a blonde I bet.”

“That’s what we think. Dave’s hair was pretty fair until he was in high school and even though I give mine some help, my natural color’s sort of what they call dishwater blond.”

“I never could figure out what that was supposed to mean. Any dishwater I always saw was gray.”

Laura giggled. “Anyway, she hasn’t got enough hair yet to tell for certain.”

“I don’t know much about babies, but isn’t it too soon to predict hair and eye color?”

“Want to hold her?”

“Oh, well…”

“Come on, don’t be scared. Just hold out your arms and I’ll tuck her into them.”

Clare leaned against the back of the chair. She didn’t really want to hold the baby, who seemed awfully small, but suspected such feelings were inappropriate for a godmother. Still, the soft bundle wrapped in a fleecy blanket was surprisingly solid. Emma’s dark blue eyes stared unblinkingly up into Clare’s face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Clare looked up and grinned at Laura. “Feels different. Warm. And nice, too.” But she was ready to hand her back and when Emma scrunched up her tiny face, Clare quickly passed her over to Laura. Then she remembered the question she’d asked earlier. “So Dave, who did you finally decide on for godfather?”

Dave and Laura exchanged a look. “I had a heck of a time,” Dave began. “Mainly because my good buddy from college is over in Afghanistan right now, so that ruled him out. Then I was going to go with Cal Rubens. Remember him?”

Clare shook her head.

“He was a year ahead of me at Twin Falls High. He runs a health-food store. I left work early today to ask him, but on the way I happened to bump into someone I haven’t seen in a long time.” Dave leaned forward on his chair. “I want you to know, Clare, that this was a completely impulsive and last-minute decision on my part. I’m not as organized about these things as Laura is.”

“So who is he? Is he coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

“I’ve asked him, but he wasn’t sure. He…uh, said he would pop around tonight though.”

“And his name—?” Clare smiled wishing Dave would get to the point.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, setting Emma into a wail. Dave jumped up and headed for the front hall while Laura walked back and forth, patting Emma on the back. Clare heard the low rumble of male voices.

Dave came back into the room an anxious expression on his face. Behind him stood the last person on earth Clare wanted to see in Twin Falls.




CHAPTER TWO


THE SAME, yet different. That much registered for Clare in the next five seconds as she stared at Gil Harper.

He had already reached his growth potential of six-two seventeen years ago, but he’d been almost eighteen then—lanky and loose-limbed in scruffy Levis and bulky sweatshirts. This Gil with his broader shoulders, wearing pressed jeans, a denim shirt and a black leather jacket, looked like a candidate for GQ’s Man of the Year award.

His charcoal-gray eyes stayed on Clare a moment longer before turning their gaze to Laura who was hovering at his left with Emma. He murmured a greeting and peered down at the baby in her arms. “This is the famous Emma, I presume.” He gave the baby a tentative smile, but his attention quickly shifted back to Clare. She rose unsteadily from the armchair.

“Hello, Gil.”

“Clare,” he said with a formal nod. “You’ve changed as much as the rest of us, I see. Your hair’s shorter.”

“It’s been a while,” she said, wondering if her voice sounded as peculiar to everyone else as it did to her at that moment.

“Would you like a brandy, Gil? Clare?” Dave asked.

“I…uh, really can’t stay long,” Gil said.

“I’ll have one,” Clare said. A large one.

“Glass of milk for me, please,” said Laura. “Surely you can stay long enough for a drink, Gil? At least until we go over the plans for Sunday.”

He shrugged. “Okay, then.”

Dave gestured to the couch, next to Clare’s chair. “Have a seat, Gil. I’m sure you and Clare have a bit of catching up to do. Laura, want to help me in the kitchen?”

Laura took the hint and, with the baby, followed Dave from the room. Clare remained standing until she accepted the fact that she hadn’t fallen asleep after dinner and awakened in a bad dream. Gil Harper wasn’t going to vanish before her eyes no matter how much she wished he would. She sat on the edge of the chair, ready to bolt if necessary.

He loomed in front of her a fraction longer before sitting on the couch. She watched him from the corner of her eye, noting from the rigid way he perched that he was just as uncomfortable as she was.

“I assume this has caught you by surprise, too,” she said.

“Definitely. As a matter of fact, I was asked to be godfather at two o’clock this afternoon when I met Dave on Main Street.”

“Same old Dave.”

“Apparently.”

He shifted on the couch turning toward her. “Congratulations on your new book.”

“Thank you.”

“I just finished it. Very…gripping,” he said, after a slight pause.

“You bought a copy?”

“Of course. I have your first one, too—Frankie and Me. I liked it very much. You always had promise as a writer.”

“Inspired by English class with Miss Stuart.”

He smiled for the first time. “Yes. I wonder if she’s still teaching.”

“Hmmm.” Clare wished Dave and Laura would return so they could make plans for Sunday and she could leave.

“I hope you understand that I had no idea you were even in Twin Falls,” he went on. “I just got here myself a couple of days ago to clear out my dad’s house.”

“Has your father moved into a retirement home?”

“No, he…uh, he died of a stroke about three weeks ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Gil. And your mother?”

“Heart attack, five years ago. How about your folks?”

“Mom’s in New Jersey with her second husband. Dad’s still in California with his second or third wife. Can’t recall which.”

“Your mother remarried? Good for her.”

Clare thought back to the day four years ago when her mother called to announce her upcoming marriage to someone she’d met only a year before. She’d been surprised at the news and at first, had tried to persuade her mother to simply move in with the man.

“I’m still an old-fashioned woman, Clare,” her mother had said. “And this is the time of my life when I need companionship more than ever. Besides, the fact is, I love Hank.”

Love. One thing to write about, quite another to experience. Clare sneaked a sideways glance at the person she’d once thought she loved. His hands—once so familiar—rested on his knees. She didn’t see a wedding ring.

As if reading her mind, he suddenly asked, “What about you, Clare? Are you married or engaged?”

She felt her face redden. “No.”

He nodded and conversation skidded to a halt. Clare was about to excuse herself to find Laura when Dave came back into the room with a tray of drinks.

“Sorry to take so long, but Laura wanted to get Emma to sleep. She’ll join us in a minute or so.” He passed large brandy snifters to Clare and Gil and, taking one for himself, sat opposite them in a wing chair. “Cheers!” he said, raising his snifter. “To old friends.”

Clare and Gil raised their glasses, though neither echoed his toast.

Dave cleared his throat. “So, Clare, what time is your book signing tomorrow?”

“Ten o’clock.”

“You’re having a signing? Where?” Gil asked.

“There’s a new bookstore in town—at least, new to me. Called Novel Idea.”

“It’s been here a couple of years, I think,” Dave said. “It’s on Spruce Street, near Main.”

“I’ll have to drop by.”

Great, Clare thought. Let’s get right into the whole horrible reunion thing.

“We’re not sure if we can go,” Dave said. “We still have a lot of running around to do for the christening luncheon on Sunday. And speaking of the christening, there’s not a lot you two have to do. It’ll be at the Methodist church, still in the same place—” he gave a slight laugh “—at eleven. We’ll save seats for you at the front. There’s another christening that morning, too, so the church may be crowded. Basically all you have to do is follow the pastor’s instructions. One of you will hold Emma for the blessing. Then we’ll have family and friends come back here for a buffet lunch. There won’t be too many people.”

“Sounds good,” Gil said, standing up and setting his empty glass on the coffee table. “So I’ll see you on Sunday morning.”

“Are you leaving?” Dave got to his feet, his brow creasing.

“I should. Still have some packing up to do before the cleaners come in tomorrow.”

“We were hoping you’d join us for dinner tomorrow night. I’ve made reservations for four at a new place in town. It’ll be like old times,” Dave added.

Clare tensed, hoping Gil would decline.

“I don’t know, Dave. I really shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?” Laura asked from the entrance to the living room. She walked over to the table where Dave had placed the drink tray and picked up her glass of milk. “You’re not leaving already, Gil?”

“Lots to do, Laura. The cleaners are booked for tomorrow afternoon and I’ve still got a lot to do.”

“But you’ll come tomorrow night? It’s all arranged.”

There was a long silence until Gil murmured, “Sure. That sounds fine.”

Clare sighed. There was no stopping Laura when she set her mind to something. She downed the last of her brandy and rose to go.

“Clare, not you, too!” Laura protested.

“I’m sure you and Dave will appreciate an early night, Laura. I’m tired myself and I have to be up early.”

“Where did you say you were staying? Want to come here for breakfast?”

Clare smiled at Laura’s love of making plans for other people. “I’m at the old Falls View Hotel, can you believe it? Though it’s had a bit of a makeover since I lived in town. Thanks for the offer of breakfast, but you’ll be busy enough.” She headed for the entrance hall and picked up her purse from the small table there. Her suit jacket was slung over a nearby chair and she draped it over her arm.

“Are you driving?” Gil asked, hovering at her elbow.

“Yes. I rented a car in New York.”

“How’d you like to give me a lift? I had an errand in town late this afternoon and decided to get some exercise by walking here. I could call a cab but…”

Clare hesitated. They were all looking at her and she couldn’t think of a good excuse. “Sure,” she murmured. She hugged Dave and kissed Laura on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

Laura held on to her by the forearm and whispered, “Are you sure this is okay? I mean, Dave can give Gil a ride.”

Clare watched Dave and Gil step out onto the porch. Keeping her voice low, she said, “No, it’s okay. I just wish I’d known about this godfather thing.”

“I’m sorry, Clare. I didn’t know myself until this afternoon just before you arrived. Will you manage? Want me to see if Dave can get out of it? I mean, he’s the person responsible.”

Clare guessed Gil would jump at the chance to be relieved of his duties. But a change now would be embarrassing for everyone, especially Dave. “No, no. Don’t worry. We’re both adults now.” She went out to the porch.

Both men turned around as she walked past them down the steps and headed straight for her car. She heard Gil following virtually on her heels while calling out a last goodbye. He didn’t speak until they were buckling up their seat belts and the engine was running.

“I hope this isn’t an inconvenience.”

Now he worries about that. Clare mumbled a no and pulled away from the curb, craning back to see Laura and Dave waving from the porch. Her glance took in Gil, staring straight ahead.

His profile was all angles and sharp edges, from the slightly hawkish nose to a jaw more formidable than the one she recalled. He’d always had a dark, broodish air about him and the years had further defined that quality. His long fingers drummed nervously on his kneecaps and for an unsettling second Clare had a vivid memory of those fingers on her, tracing an invisible line up and down the inside of her arm. He used to tease her about how ticklish she was there and liked to hear her beg him to stop.

She felt a sudden chill and clicked on the heat, tempted to also turn on the radio to fill up the tense silence. When he mumbled something about the weather, she was torn between relief that she didn’t have to think of anything to say and sadness that small talk was all they now had between them.

When she braked at the first stop sign, Gil asked, “Do you remember how to get to my place?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, aware at once of the edge in her voice.

“Will you be staying long?”

No longer than I have to, she wanted to say. “Until Monday. I’ve another signing in Hartford.”

More silence. “Have you gotten any feedback about your book from people here in Twin Falls?”

“Just Dave and Laura. I don’t keep in touch with anyone else from the old gang.”

“Me, neither.”

She drove into the housing tract where she, Laura and Gil had grown up. Gil’s house was at the farthest edge of it, just before the Visit Again sign where the road turned into highway. But when she turned onto Glendale Road, expecting to see the rows of bungalows she remembered, Clare was shocked. Scarcely half a dozen remained, including Gil’s father’s place at the very end.

“Good heavens!” Clare exclaimed, pulling over to the curb.

“Surprised?”

“Shocked.” She turned to look at him. “I guess I expected it all to look the same.”

“Unfortunately Twin Falls hasn’t escaped the tear-down epidemic of the big city. It’s a real commuter town now.” Gil stared out the window at his childhood home. “I don’t anticipate any problems selling the house.”

Struck by the tone in his voice, she asked, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I guess. Just that the place is my last link to Twin Falls. Once it goes…”

He didn’t need to finish. Clare knew exactly what he meant to say. “But isn’t that also a good thing?” she asked softly.

His face, turned to hers, was impassive. “Do you think so?”

Clare’s eyes held his a long uncomfortable moment before flicking back to the windshield and the street beyond. She wasn’t certain what he meant, but suspected he was veering the talk onto shaky ground and decided to keep quiet. The silence in the car became so stifling she had to put the window down. The engine idled gently at the curb.

“What part of New York do you live in?” he suddenly asked.

“Chelsea.”

“Oh, yeah? Nice area.”

Another pause. He seemed in no hurry to get out of the car. “And what about you?” she asked. “Where do you live now?”

“New York.”

“New York City?”

His eyes met hers. “Yes.”

Clare looked away. She couldn’t believe the man she’d been trying to forget for the last several years had been living under her nose. Well, sort of. Give or take a few million other people. Still, what perverse hand of fate had led both of them to the same city?

“I’ve got a condo on the East Side,” he went on.

When she found her voice, she asked, “How long have you been there?”

“About five years. I got a job at a law firm in Manhattan a couple years after I was called to the bar.”

Clare jerked her head back to him. “You’re a lawyer?”

A faint smile crossed his face. “Yeah. Ironic, isn’t it?” Then he pushed down on the door handle. “Thanks for the lift, Clare. See you tomorrow.” His long legs swung out and, without looking back, he closed the door behind him.

Clare sat unmoving until he disappeared inside the small bungalow. How strange life is, she mused. Gil Harper—once suspected of murdering his ex-girlfriend—now a lawyer.



“COFFEE?”

Clare raised her head from the book she was signing. One of the store clerks was standing at her left side. “Yes, please. Double double.”

The clerk grinned. “Gotcha,” and vanished into the cluster of people milling around the table. Clare smiled at the middle-aged woman waiting in front of her and pushed the novel across the table.

“Thank you very much,” the woman said. “I bought it for my daughter. I thought she’d be interested in knowing Twin Falls can boast a real live author. We just moved here from Hartford and she thinks it’s like living on another planet.”

Clare figured the daughter was closer to the truth than the woman could have imagined. And at that moment, she was feeling neither real nor alive. It was eleven-thirty and she’d only signed about twenty-five books, which wasn’t bad for a bookstore in a place the size of Twin Falls, but already her fingers were cramped, her back ached and her stomach was rumbling. Yet how could she complain? Each book she signed contributed to the royalty checks that supported her now that she’d left teaching for a full-time writing career.

The clerk returned with a take-out coffee and set it near her elbow. “Anything else?’ she asked.

“Maybe another right hand.”

The younger woman smiled and left Clare to it. She signed three more books and, as the line began to dissipate, sipped slowly on the coffee and closed her eyes, waiting for the jolt of caffeine to course through her.

“You look tired.”

Clare’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice. Gil Harper was standing in front of the table. In his black cords, dove-gray crewneck pullover and leather blazer—all complimenting his ebony hair and dark eyes—he was drawing quite a few glances from nearby women. He held a worn copy of her book and handed it to her when she set her coffee down.

An inscription of some kind was necessary, of course. What would Miss Manners recommend in such a situation? Thanks for the memories? Or, Great while it lasted? Her pen poised above the dedication page with its “For Old Friends and New.” Clare had an inspiration. Writing Gil’s name above the dedication line, she simply signed her name below. When she passed the book back to him, he took a second to study the page.

Then he raised his head and quipped, “At least it doesn’t read “‘Old Friends and Enemies.’”

The smile Clare attempted struggled against her frozen cheek muscles.

“Did Laura mention what time we’re supposed to meet tonight?” he asked.

“Tonight?”

“Dinner. At the new restaurant. Can’t recall the name. Serenity or something.”

The smile tugged harder at the corners of Clare’s mouth. “Ah yes. Serendipity. I…uh…I think reservations are for six.”

He nodded, continuing to check her out. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

She knew what he meant, but played dumb. “What?”

“My coming along. Maybe you’d rather be with them on your own.”

She ignored the hook he was dangling before her. No way was she going to get into that debate in a public place. “I think Laura’s counting on both of us.”

“Well, Laura can’t be let down.”

Clare caught his fleeting grin and broke into a full smile. “True enough.”

Someone jostled him from behind. “See you tonight then,” he said before walking away.

She kept her eyes on him until his broad back disappeared in the bustle of shoppers and store clerks. When she turned to take the next book, she saw a young man with notebook and pen in hand standing patiently in front of her.

“Miss Morgan? I’m Jeff Withers from the Spectator, the town’s newspaper. I wondered if you could spare me some time for an interview.”

“Um, sure. I’m finished here in about fifteen minutes.”

“There’s a diner right across the street. Mitzi’s. Why don’t I buy you lunch? It looks like you might be all coffeed out.”

Clare smiled without any effort this time. “That would be great. I’ll meet you over there.” What she preferred to do was to head back to her hotel for peace and quiet, but she knew interviews were an important part of a book tour. When the signing wrapped up, she slipped on her suit jacket, assured the effusively appreciative manager that the pleasure was all hers and made her way across Main Street.

The reporter was sitting in a booth facing the door and waved at her. He stood up as she sat down, a courtesy that pleased Clare but made her feel about twenty years older.

“The specials are up on the board,” Jeff said, pointing to the wall to her left.

“The food must be good,” Clare said. “The place is packed.”

“Always is on the weekends. They serve a mean brunch.”

A waitress arrived while Clare was skimming the menu so she made a quick decision. “The frittata special please, with salad instead of home fries.”

Jeff ordered the same and as soon as the waitress left, set his notepad and pen on the table. “Would you mind if we talked while we ate? I’ve got a four o’clock deadline.”

“Not at all. When will the interview be in print?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday edition. Look in the Lifestyles section. Now,” he said, flipping open the notepad, “I know that Growing up in Paradise is your second novel.”

“That’s correct. The first, Frankie and Me, was published almost three years ago.”

“Is it normal to have such a gap between books?”

Clare smiled patiently. She’d been asked this question many times. “I don’t know if there’s anything in the world of publishing that could be called normal, but I don’t think the gap is unusual.”

“And this one made the New York Times list so I guess that’s all that matters.”

She wasn’t certain what he meant by the comment. “It’s a wonderful recognition, if that’s what you mean.”

He smiled. “Of course! Now, I understand you were born and raised right here in Twin Falls.”

“I was actually born in Greenwich, but I grew up here.”

He paused while the waiter brought their drinks and then he placed a small tape recorder on the table. “Do you mind? I’m not the best note taker.”

Clare frowned. “All right. I guess there’s not much I can tell you that’ll come back to haunt me.”

He laughed. “Not in Twin Falls. The cover blurb of your book calls it a coming-of-age novel of a young girl growing up in a small town. But I’m curious—is it really based on your personal story?”

Clare tried not to roll her eyes. She’d been asked this question so many times, she had the answer down pat. “My own experiences gave me an informed point of view, of course, and there are some similarities between the heroine, Kenzie, and me, but the story itself is fiction.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Can you summarize the central theme of the book?”

Clare paused while their orders were placed on the table. “I think the title is the clue, right? The notion that small towns may seem like paradise on the surface, but underneath is the same ugliness that can be found in big cities.”

“Kind of like the snake in the Garden of Eden?”

“I guess, but mine isn’t a spiritual message. Simply that good and evil can be found anywhere, even in an idyllic place like…well, like Twin Falls.”

“So is the book based on an actual event in Twin Falls?”

Clare put down her fork. “I don’t believe I said that, did I?”

His smile didn’t seem so charming this time. He cocked his head to one side and as if mulling over her question, switched tactics. “But isn’t that basically what we’ve been playing cat-and-mouse about these last few minutes? And here’s what you say in your acknowledgements.” He pulled a copy of her novel from his backpack and thumbed through the first couple of pages. “You thank a bunch of people, then make a general statement that certain events may appear to resemble—I like that phrase—events that may have occurred elsewhere but any similarities are entirely coincidental.” He raised his head, frowning. “Sounds like something a lawyer wrote, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps because one did, Clare was thinking. Suddenly she was no longer hungry. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to clarify her point. “I—”

He interrupted, “Do you think there’s a possibility someone here in Twin Falls might find something too close to truth in the book?”

Clare set her fork down. “What are you getting at?”

He leaned forward, fixing his eyes on hers. He was no longer making notes, but the tape recorder whirred away. “Here’s my point. The novel centers around the death of a friend of the heroine’s. The death is ruled accidental, but there’s ambiguity about the finding that has a profound effect on the main character. What was her name again? Kenzie?”

Clare nodded. She knew where he was going now.

“And the death eventually results in Kenzie’s leaving forever the town where she grew up. Kind of a Paradise Lost idea. Right?”

Clare checked her watch, wondering when there’d be an opportunity to leave. “That’s part of the story, yes.”

He leaned further across the table. The eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses glimmered. “And isn’t that what happened to you, right here in Twin Falls, seventeen years ago? When your friend was murdered and your boyfriend accused of the crime?”

“As I’ve already told you, what happens in my novel is fiction. And Rina Thomas was a classmate, rather than a friend. I’m sorry but I have to go.” Clare stood up.

Startled, he pulled back from the table. “But your lunch.”

“Let me pay my share.”

He rose from his chair. “No, no. The boss is paying. Listen, could you spare five more minutes? I just want to explore the idea of your novel being based on the Thomas case.”

“If you want to discuss my book, fine. However, if your real purpose in talking to me is to discuss something that happened many years ago in Twin Falls, then I’m sorry, I can’t help you. You’ll have to go to the police for that.” She started to move away.

“But the two stories are not so very different, are they?”

“The novel is drawn loosely on my childhood experiences and observations growing up in a small town. I’m sorry but I can’t spell it out any other way. Any similarities are—”

“Entirely coincidental,” he finished, quoting from the preface. “But off the record, Miss Morgan, which parts are not coincidental?”

“It’s all fiction, Mr. Withers. Goodbye,” she said and walked out the door. She brushed past a handful of people lined up to get inside and marched straight to her hotel, a brisk five minutes away.

It wasn’t until she was safely locked inside her room that she sank into a chair and succumbed to the trembling that began the instant she left Mitzi’s.




CHAPTER THREE


SHE HAD TIMED HER entrance perfectly. Laura and Dave were just sitting down at their table, and judging by the half-finished glass of wine in front of Gil, Clare figured he’d arrived a bit early. She handed her coat to the host and walked toward them, pleased that she had avoided a few moments alone with Gil—something she’d worried about on her walk to the restaurant.

“Clare! You look ravishing,” Dave enthused, standing to greet her. “Doesn’t she, Laura?”

“Now that she’s a celebrity, she has an image to keep up, right, Clare?” Laura winked.

The spotlight wasn’t really what she’d been seeking, but Clare struck a pose, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt. She cocked her head, her shoulder-length hair swaying to one side, and scanned the room. “What? No paparazzi?” she demanded, smiling. She gave Dave a quick hug and bent down to give Laura a peck on the cheek.

Gil had stood at her arrival as well and was pulling out the chair beside his. Clare hesitated, then acknowledged him with a nod of her head. “Gil,” she mumbled and sat down. As he pushed the chair in, his hand brushed across her shoulders and the instant tingle distracted her enough that she missed Laura’s next remark.

“I said,” Laura repeated seeing the blank look on Clare’s face, “that I love your dress. Is it silk?”

“Yes. A celebration splurge.”

“It’s stunning,” Laura went on. “Those earth tones are wonderful with your hair and complexion. Whenever you move, they seem to shimmer in different shades of brown and gold.”

“More like copper,” Gil added.

“Since when were you such a fashion connoisseur?” asked Dave, grinning across the table.

“I know my colors as well as the next guy,” Gil said, grinning. He turned toward Clare. “Laura’s right. The dress is perfect for you.”

His smile was sincere, Clare thought, but the intense expression in his eyes unreadable. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and gave him a quick smile that felt lopsided, then turned her head toward Laura. “Who’s looking after Emma tonight?”

“My mother. She and Dad are heading off to Florida Monday morning so she wanted to spend more time with her.”

“Will they stay in Florida the whole winter?”

“They usually do. Though this year, they might brave the weather and come back for Christmas. Unless we go there,” Laura said, casting a quick glance at Dave.

A shadow crossed his face. Obviously, he didn’t want to discuss the matter right then. Clare quickly said, “Well, wherever you end up, Christmas will be special this year because of Emma.”

“You’re right, Clare. Emma’s what matters,” Laura said, giving Dave a pointed look.

A waiter arrived with sparkling wine and four glasses. “I hope you don’t mind,” Gil said. “I ordered it just before you arrived. Thought the occasion required a toast.”

When the wine was poured, Gil raised his glass. “To Laura, Dave and baby Emma.”

“And let’s not forget old friends,” Dave said.

The waiter came to recite the specials and for the next few minutes, attention was devoted to the menu. Once their orders were taken, Dave broke the silence by asking Clare how the book signing had gone.

“Fine, though I wonder if I’ll ever get used to these things.”

“You better,” Laura said. “I’ve a feeling there are many more in your future.”

“There was quite a crowd at the store,” Gil added.

“You went?” Laura asked.

“Sure. Got to support the local talent, right?”

Laura’s glance switched from Gil to Clare. But if her friend was looking for some sign of how the encounter had turned out, Clare wasn’t cooperating. She met Laura’s gaze with impassivity and abruptly changed the subject to her interview with Jeff Withers.

“That guy!” Dave grimaced when Clare mentioned the reporter’s name.

“Why?” Clare asked, suddenly worried about the interview.

“He’s one of those sensationalist reporters. You know the kind—knocking on the doors of families who’ve just suffered a devastating loss. He’s good at pulling the emotional strings of his readers.”

Clare understood then Withers’s dogged insistence on focusing on the Rina Thomas case, rather than her novel. For the second time that day, she regretted the interview.

“So how did it go?” Gil asked.

She turned his way, saying merely, “Fine.” He was the last person she wanted to discuss the interview with, especially its focus on Rina Thomas. The arrival of the waiter with their food prevented her from having to elaborate and after he left, the talk turned to food, restaurants and changes in Twin Falls. On safer ground, Clare began to relax and enjoy the evening.

But two hours later, her relief that the dinner had transpired without serious reference to the past evaporated. The laughter, topical chitchat and catch-up on their current lives had merely been embellishment to her false sense of security, Clare realized. Standing on the sidewalk outside Serendipity—and acknowledging the irony of its name, under the circumstances—Clare was painfully aware of the huge gap between the teenaged Gil Harper she’d adored and his present self. Someone she knew not at all.

Outside the restaurant after dinner, Laura and Dave lingered for a few seconds, reminding them of the time to be at the church the next day. “Sure you don’t want a lift back?” Laura asked anxiously, reading all too clearly, Clare thought, the state of her mind.

“My hotel’s just a few blocks away,” Clare was saying when Gil piped up.

“I’ll walk her back,” he said to Laura and before Clare could find an excuse, he clasped a hand under her elbow and gently turned her in the direction of the Falls View Hotel, four blocks away. “I insist,” he added.

Her first impulse was to shake loose of his grasp, but she was worried the move would seem too inappropriate. She reminded herself that he was simply being polite, a trait she recalled from the adolescent Gil Harper, only the present day Gil Harper seemed nothing like the teenage one she’d adored.

“You’re deep in thought,” he commented, breaking the silence.

More like deep in history, she thought, but only made an innocuous remark about the evening.

“Yes,” he agreed, “the food was great, too. A far cry from the diner we used to hang out at after school. Remember it?”

As if she could forget. Harvey’s Diner was where her history with Gil had begun. Just two blocks away from Twin Falls High, the small family-owned snack bar had been, along with the town’s pool hall, one of the few places that tolerated the teenage crowd.

But she refused to be drawn in to reminiscing. “I do. The best hamburgers and fries in town.” As if that had been its only claim to memory.

He didn’t pursue the point. Conversation ceased then and all that Clare heard were the hollow echoes of their shoes on the sidewalk and the voice in her mind, urging her to say something—anything—to break the strained silence. Yet there was a time when silence between them had been companionable. A bond, rather than an indicator of the way their lives had diverged. Oddly, the thought saddened her.

They were approaching the old movie theater—its facade rebricked and updated—as the audience exited, spilling onto the sidewalk ahead of them. Gil slowed down, letting Clare take the lead through the knots of people. Someone jostled against her and when she turned to her right, Clare saw a thin, middle-aged woman staring at her in astonishment. On the verge of apologizing Clare was met with a glare so hateful that she froze in her tracks. A couple strolled between her and the woman and by the time they’d passed, the woman had been swallowed up in the crowd.

“What is it?” Gil asked, coming up beside her. “Why did you stop?”

“I don’t really know,” she said, still scanning the place where the woman had been seconds ago. “I bumped into some woman and when I turned to apologize, she glared at me as if I’d done something unbelievably rude.”

“What did she look like?”

“In her forties and skinny. Brown hair. She was looking at me as if she knew me,” Clare said.

Gil stretched his neck to look over the crowd. He turned back to her. “Maybe it was someone you knew from before.”

From before. A curious expression, Clare thought, looking at Gil. Just as I once knew you—from before. Or thought I did.

“More likely someone who didn’t like my book,” she said, laughing it off. She resumed walking, eager to remove herself from his gaze. She tried to keep a distance ahead of him but her heels were no match for his effortless stride.

He caught up to her as she turned onto the side street where her hotel was situated. Clear of Main Street and with fewer shops, the street was much darker. It ran along the river, fenced off by a guardrail and gentle embankment to its edge. On the opposite side rose the steep dark cliffs that snaked around the bend in the river to the falls at its head. Two brilliant spotlights aimed at the falls illuminated their flow down the cliffs.

“I don’t recall those lights when I lived here,” Gil said.

“No,” Clare said, slowing to take in their nighttime splendor. “They were installed a few years ago,” she said. “A porter at the hotel told me some drunk driver missed the bend in the road and went over the top. They put up the fence afterward.”

“Remember how we used to make jokes about what this place might have been called if the falls weren’t here? Like Rivertown?”

“Yes,” she said, laughing suddenly at the memory flash. “Laura and I came up with River Crossing and River Forge, but our favorite was Nowhere U.S.A., getting away from the river theme. If the falls weren’t here, we decided we’d have to rename most of the town. The high school, this hotel, at least one of the restaurants in town at the time, as well as a couple of the streets.”

“Not to mention the town’s first shopping mall.”

“Really a strip plaza,” she said.

“Right.” He grinned down at her.

In that unguarded instant, their eyes connected, sharing a memory. It was as if the intervening years hadn’t happened at all. She was still seventeen and in love. Clare looked away first. She shivered, bunching her shoulders beneath the trench coat she’d brought for the weekend. “It’s getting chilly,” she mumbled, “and we have an early morning.”

“Not too early,” he said, his voice as low as hers.

Was he suggesting something, she wondered, or simply correcting her? Whichever, she decided not to respond.

“Look,” he went on, “I’m assuming you feel as uncomfortable about the christening as I do. But obviously, we don’t want to spoil the day for Laura and Dave. Can we agree on some kind of truce for tomorrow?”

Clare kept her face impassive. “I wasn’t aware that we were involved in some kind of feud. Do we need to agree on neutrality when indifference is really what we’re feeling?”

There was a second of confusion in his face, quickly followed by understanding. He took a step back, looking as if she’d struck him.

“We’re both adults,” she said, trying to soften the bluntness of her remark. “And we’ve both managed to put the past behind us. Do we need to say more?”

“Apparently not,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper. “Good night then, Clare.” He turned his back on her and strode briskly toward Main Street.

Clare waited until he disappeared around the corner before she summoned the energy to move. In spite of her belief that what she’d said was perfectly true, she felt mean and ashamed. What is it about Gil Harper, that prompts such behavior in you? she asked herself.

She pushed open the front door of the hotel, crossing the deserted lobby on her way to her room. She didn’t realize there was a phone message for her until she reached across the nightstand to turn out the lamp.

“Welcome back to Twin Falls, Clare. This is Lisa Stuart, your former English teacher at Twin Falls High. I missed your book signing today but heard via the grapevine that you might be in town a couple more days. I wondered if you’d be interested in visiting the school and giving a short talk to my senior lit class. I hate to impose on what must be a busy schedule, but some of my students have already read your latest novel and we’d all be thrilled to have you visit. If not, then perhaps the two of us could get together over coffee. I’d love to see you and hear all about your success. Call me anytime at 613-8527 and let me know. Looking forward to seeing you, bye for now.”

Clare jotted down the number, though she doubted she’d accept the invitation. Twin Falls High definitely wasn’t on her list of places to visit. She lay her head down on the pillow, too drained to read. One more day, then I’m out of here.



INDIFFERENCE. Gil didn’t dare turn around, even though he felt her watching him as he left. But he wanted to. He especially wanted to confront her about that glib remark and to tell her that she hadn’t really changed at all. That she was still shutting down, refusing to listen, just as she’d done seventeen years ago when he’d tried to explain why he’d been with Rina Thomas that day.

He slowed his pace when he reached Main Street, grateful for the cool night air and its calming effect. A woman, walking in the direction of the hotel, stopped as he passed her. Gil had the impression she was staring after him—maybe she’d seen something in his face, he thought. His anger and frustration flashing from him like a warning sign. Stop. Danger from the past just ahead.

By the time he reached the restaurant he felt more in control. Serendipity. What irony. The coincidence of finding himself linked with Clare Morgan after all these years was more bad luck than serendipity. And in spite of his extreme effort to be cool about the whole thing—to try to convey to her that he felt just as cornered by the christening as she did—she’d deftly turned the tables on him.

Yet to be truthful, it wasn’t simply her gibe that had touched a nerve so much as the unexpected jolt he’d felt at it. It wasn’t pain, he decided—more like anger quickly followed by sadness. He’d felt the same way when he’d read her book. He hadn’t been fooled at all by the name changes, recognizing at once himself, Rina and Clare. Of course, Clare had neatly avoided attaching blame for the death of the Rina character to his counterpart in the novel. That was where fiction and fact diverged. She’d been all too quick to blame him seventeen years ago.

Gil reached his car, parked a block beyond the restaurant, and climbed in. He’d impulsively offered to walk Clare back to her hotel after she turned down a ride from the Kingsways because he’d thought it would be an opportunity to clear the air between them, to straighten things out a bit before the next day. But no such luck.

You said it yourself, buddy. She hasn’t really changed. Her hair may have a different look, her golden-brown eyes, more wary, and her skinny teenaged frame has definitely morphed into something any other man would fantasize about, but inside, she was as unchanged as the falls. Self-righteous, inflexible and unforgiving.

Gil turned over the engine of his Mercedes and sat a minute longer, picturing the look in her face when she’d made that damned comment. He’d seen right away that she was trying for indifference but those eyes said it all. You’re a liar and a cheat and you don’t mean anything to me anymore. Precisely what she’d flung at him seventeen years ago, right after his release from jail. Words he’d never forget.

He shifted into Drive and edged away from the curb. At least he now knew where he stood. After tomorrow, Clare Morgan would be out of his life once again—which was just as well, for his sake.



CLARE CLOSED the car door behind her and lowered her head onto the steering wheel, its cool surface the perfect balm for the pounding at her temples. The christening ceremony had been relatively brief, for which she was grateful. Holding a squirming two-month-old for more than ten minutes would have been a challenge. Especially under the somewhat bemused gaze of Gil, who hadn’t bothered to offer any help. As soon as her part had finished, Clare quickly thrust the baby back into Laura’s arms. She thought she heard a low snort from Gil as she did so, but couldn’t be certain.

After the service, people clustered outside the church in small groups. In spite of her reluctance to return to Twin Falls, Clare was pleased to see Laura’s parents and family members again. She’d had many happy childhood memories with the Dundas family. When Gil came up to ask if she needed a ride to the Kingsways’, where the reception was being held, Clare was also grateful that she’d driven her rental car. His very presence seemed to strike a nerve.

Laura and Dave’s house was teeming with people when Clare walked in the front door. She placed her christening gift—a hand-smocked designer dress with matching sweater—onto the hall table along with the other presents and was making her way to the dining room where drinks were being served when Gil arrived.

His charcoal-gray designer suit seemed out of place in the small-town crowd but she had to admit, he was breathtakingly attractive in it. He gave a curt nod, clutching the handle of a gift bag. Clare could see the fluffy brown ears of a stuffed animal poking through the tissue paper. Her eyes connected briefly with his before she turned away and made for the dining room.

Dave was pouring mimosas from a tall crystal pitcher, assisted by a slightly older man who bore a striking resemblance to him. “Clare! Here, you must have one of these.” He handed her a champagne flute and tilted his head to the other man. “You remember my brother, Rick?”

Clare smiled and nodded. “Kind of. You were a couple of grades ahead of me at school.”

“That’s right,” he said. “I know your name because of your connection to Dave and Laura, but I have to admit I don’t recall too many kids from your year.” He chuckled, adding, “Well, except for Rina Thomas and I guess everyone knew her.”

Clare saw Dave give his brother a subtle nudge as he smiled nervously at someone behind her. She turned to see Gil standing in the doorway. The slight pulse at his jaw line—a sign of emotion held in check that Clare recalled all too well—told her immediately that he’d heard. He gave a polite but stiff nod as Dave introduced Rick.

“No, thanks,” he said to the offer of alcohol. “Coffee for me.” And without another word, headed for the kitchen.

Sensing that Dave was about to explain the faux pas to his brother and unwilling to be part of it, Clare smiled vaguely and, glass in hand, drifted into the living room. Laura shrieked a greeting from across the room.

“Clare!” She was with her older sister, Anne-Marie, whom Clare hadn’t seen since Laura’s wedding.

They hugged and made small talk for a moment before Anne-Marie asked, “How’s your book doing? I haven’t read it yet, but I brought my copy with me so don’t forget to sign it before we leave.”

“Sure,” Clare said. “You look great. Life in Greenwich must be agreeable.”

“A bit quiet, but it beats Twin Falls for action. I still don’t understand why Laura and Dave came back here. Do you like living in New York, Clare?”

“It’s great. Always something to do or see.”

“Did you know Gil Harper was there, too?” Without waiting for a reply, Anne-Marie ducked her head closer to Clare’s. “He’s even more to die for than he was as a teenager, isn’t he?” Then, realizing what she’d just said, added, “Sorry I wasn’t intending any bad pun there, believe me Clare.”

Obviously the past was never going to leave her alone, Clare was thinking, as she smiled mutely at Laura and her sister, who wasn’t taking the hint. “I know that sounds indiscreet, but the whole business has been resurrected anyway by the article in today’s paper.”

“What article?” Laura asked.

Jeff Withers’s flushed and eager face rose before Clare. I knew that was going to come back to haunt me. “The one I mentioned at dinner last night,” Clare said. “My interview with Jeff Withers.”

Laura blinked. “What did he write? Do you have the paper here?”

“No,” Anne-Marie said, “we left it in the motel. Don’t you get it delivered?”

“Not anymore, but get to the point—what did he write?”

Anne-Marie’s eyes flicked from Laura to Clare. “He was supposed to be interviewing you about your book, right?”

Clare nodded.

“But most of the article is a rehash about the Rina Thomas murder. He basically came right out and said that the whole story is right in your novel. Is that true?”

“Of course not! I’ve drawn on some of my experiences growing up here. Writers do that, you know. And there is a death in my novel, but an accidental one. The circumstances are very different,” she added.

Anne-Marie shrugged. “The article suggests there’s a parallel between your novel and what really happened. Withers plays up the notion that the death in your book may have been murder, too.”

“This is so frustrating,” Clare said. “What kind of journalist is he?”

“Clare, you need to read the article. He even mentioned your own connection to the Rina Thomas case. He implied you had inside information about the actual murder and used some of it in your book.”

Fighting to keep her voice even, Clare said, “That’s ridiculous!”

“I think it’s time to cut the cake and bring out the lunch stuff,” Laura cheerily interjected.

“I need to use the washroom,” Clare mumbled and charged blindly through the crowded living room and up the stairs.

Someone was already in the bathroom and Clare sagged against the wall outside, gulping in oxygen. The door opened and Gil Harper was suddenly standing next to her, his hand on her arm.

“Clare? What’s wrong? You look upset.”

She closed her eyes. Of all the luck.

“Please don’t say nothing is wrong,” he went on. “I’ve a lot of weaknesses, but stupidity isn’t one of them.”

That drew a faint smile. “No, stupidity was never one.” She hesitated, then admitted, “Just something Laura’s sister said. About that damn newspaper interview.”

His brow furled for an instant, then cleared. “Ah, yes. You were talking about it last night. What did the guy do? Trash your book?”

“If only. I could have handled that. No, he…uh, he tried to link my plot to Rina Thomas’s murder.” Her eyes shifted briefly to the framed print on the opposite wall. He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t respond. But to his credit, he didn’t evade the issue now that it was out in the open.

“But aren’t the story lines somewhat similar?”

It was a fair question from Gil, someone briefly connected to the murder, and he deserved frankness. “When I wrote the novel,” she began, “my intention was to tell a story about growing up in a small town. I lived in the South for a few years after graduation and grew to love the people and their generous hospitality. That’s the reason I set the novel in the South.”

“What were you doing down there?”

“Teaching in a four-room country school.” She smiled, thinking how naive and inexperienced she’d been.

“Quite a challenge,” he said. “How long were you there?”

“Four years. Then I went back home to New Jersey for a bit and did some substitute teaching while I took postgrad courses to get my masters.”

“A masters in English lit, I bet.”

She nodded. “That’s when I started writing. I was inspired by what I was learning, I suppose.” Though she knew otherwise. More like inspired by demons that wouldn’t leave me alone.

One of the guests appeared on the landing, searching for the bathroom. Gil clasped Clare’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Can we politely make our excuses, do you think, and leave the party early? I’d like to talk to you some more about what you’ve been doing with your life.”

She hesitated only for a fraction of a second. There was the risk of delving into the past with Gil, she realized, but at the same time she was enjoying talking to him. “All right. Laura said they’d decided against speeches or anything formal. There’ll be a toast to Emma and as godparents, we’ll have to be present for that. And she’ll be upset if we don’t have any of the lunch.”

“True. How about if I meet you outside on the front porch after the toast and a bite to eat?”

“Okay. I’ll look for you there.”

He nodded, turned and headed back down the stairs. Clare stared at his retreating back. What had she just gotten herself into?

The bathroom door opened again and Clare, smiling at the woman exiting, took her turn. By the time she’d refreshed and was back downstairs, people were congregating in the dining room around the table, now laden with food.

Dave stood at the entrance to the dining room with Laura and Emma beside him. Gil was off to the side. When Dave spotted Clare, he addressed the guests. “Does everyone have a glass of something for a toast? Laura and I want to thank all of you for coming to share this very special day with us. It’s even more special with the presence of family and old friends.” He smiled directly at Clare and Gil. Then, raising his wineglass, he said, “Join us in wishing Emma a healthy, safe and long life.”

Everyone raised their glasses and said, “To Emma.”

Dave raised his glass a second time. “And to our dear friends—Clare Morgan and Gil Harper—Emma’s godparents. Thank you both and God bless.”

Clare felt her face heat up as all eyes turned her way. As soon as the toast was finished, she set her wineglass down and, paper plate in hand, picked a couple of morsels from the buffet table. Then she moved toward Laura, who was passing Emma to her mother.

“Do you mind if I leave early, Laura? I’ve a headache coming on and Gil suggested a walk to get some fresh air.”

“Are you upset because of what Anne-Marie said? ’Cause I’m sorry, Clare. You know how she is. She didn’t mean any harm.”

“No, no. I know Anne-Marie too well to take her the wrong way. But I have the signing tomorrow in Hartford and I’m still a bit tired from the one yesterday.” Her voice trailed off. Laura was too smart to be fooled by such lame excuses but she didn’t say anything. Clare popped an olive into her mouth.

“Can you come by for breakfast in the morning, before you leave?”

“Actually Lisa Stuart—remember her, senior English class?—called and invited me to speak to one of her classes in the morning.” Clare munched on a red pepper strip and scanned the room for Gil. Had he already left?

Laura’s face cleared. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Those kids would love to see and hear a real live author, especially one from here.”

Clare ignored a tug of guilt, knowing she’d made the decision to visit the class only at that moment. “I was honored to be asked,” she said. “How about if I call you tonight?” She set her paper plate down on the hall table and headed for the front door, Laura at her heels.

“Want to come for dinner tonight?” Laura asked. “We’re just ordering in and my parents will be here, but at least we could have a bit of a chat.”

Guilt won out. “Perhaps. I’ll call you later this afternoon.”

“Okay. And…have a nice walk with Gil,” Laura said.

Clare saw the curiosity in her friend’s face and would have explained the situation but a quick glance through the glass-paned door behind her registered Gil, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “Talk to you later,” she said and walked out onto the porch.




CHAPTER FOUR


HE DIDN’T SAY a word until they reached the end of the sidewalk. “My car or yours?”

Clare hesitated. “Maybe we should just forget about this.”

Gil sent her a look—a challenge. “Is that really what you want?” He didn’t pause long enough for a reply. “How about meeting in the park across from town hall? We’d still be taking a walk, getting fresh air and no one has to feel bad about skipping out on the christening reception.”

“We were there for the important part,” she added.

“Definitely,” he said. “I’ll see you at John Calvin’s statue in about ten minutes?”

He walked to his car before she could change her mind again and call a halt to the plan. Clare muttered to herself during the short drive to the park, wondering why she’d agreed to his suggestion. There were plenty of parking spaces around Riverside Park although several families were taking advantage of the balmy day to visit the town’s scenic center. She quickly spotted Gil, lounging against the statue of the town’s founder.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones thinking of the park today,” he commented as she approached.

Clare nodded. “The children’s play area over there must be a draw,” she said. “Too bad we didn’t have anything like that when we were kids.”

“We hung out at the school playground then. Remember?”

She did. They’d attended one of two elementary schools in town and the whole class had moved to Twin Falls High afterward. There’d been no escape from any of her classmates, Clare remembered. No place else to go, except out of town. Some students, mostly those in a higher economic bracket, had gone to various private schools in or near Hartford.

“Shall we take the river trail?” Gil asked.

“Sure,” she said, knowing how indifferent she sounded but not really caring.

He led the way to the strip of asphalt running along the top of the riverbank. “I think I liked this trail better when it was just gravel,” Gil commented. “It seemed more natural. This makes me feel like I’m in one of those theme parks.”

Clare smiled to herself. She bet Gil had never stepped foot in a theme park. “I think it would take more than an asphalt walkway to qualify.”

“I guess it’s my age showing—I hate seeing so many changes.”

“But a lot of the changes in town look to be good ones,” she said. “They show growth and economic stability.”

“True enough. I remember a time when I was a kid that my folks seemed real worried about making a go of it here. Especially after the lumber mill closed down.”

She’d forgotten about that. By then, her parents had divorced and her mother was working at the bank. “I don’t remember where your father ended up after the mill closed.”

“He took some computer courses at night school in Hartford and eventually managed to get a job in the administration department at town hall. He stayed there ’til retirement.”

“When was that?”

“Five years ago. He was seventy when he had his stroke.”

“I always liked your father.”

They walked in silence a few more yards until Gil said, a bit gruffly, “Yeah, and he always liked you, too.” He motioned to a bench ahead. “Want to sit for a minute?”

She hesitated, sensing the stop might lead to more reminiscing and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen. But she was reluctant to decline, especially right after talking about his father. Plus, she and Gil had been friends—more than friends—long ago.

“Sure,” she said and sank onto the wooden seat. A line of trees were strung along the other side of the trail and through them, she could make out the wooden footbridge spanning the river and the steep embankment leading up from it. Her eyes moved up to its high point. “I see there’s a guardrail over there, too.”

Her gaze shifted slightly to the left and she noticed the distant rooftop of Twin Falls High. She bit down on her tongue as she realized what she was looking at. They were sitting directly across the river from the place where Rina Thomas’s body had been found.

Gil noticed where she was looking and, after a moment, said, “I imagine they put it up after Rina died. Maybe to discourage kids from using the shortcut.”

She turned his way but he was still staring at the opposite side of the river. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she could hardly hear. “It’s taken me a while to be able to refer to Rina with equanimity, but I’ve managed to put the whole thing behind me.” His eyes fixed on hers. “And I suggest you try to do the same, Clare. Otherwise, comments like the ones we both heard today will always bother you.”

Blood rushed to her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was upset because…because some people have focused on a single aspect of my book.”

“Maybe your reaction shows that you’re unsure about your intentions in writing the book. Not that I’m saying you purposely set out to produce a tell-all kind of book. But I do know that the Clare Morgan I remember had a tougher shell than the one I saw today at the christening.”

Clare leaped to her feet. “You amaze me, you really do. I mean, we haven’t seen or spoken for seventeen years and you have the nerve to think you still know me. It’s almost laughable.” She folded her arms across her chest and stepped away from the bench, keeping her eyes on the view ahead. She heard him get up and for a tense instant, thought he was going to move closer and place a hand on her shoulder. But he didn’t. She spun around.

“In fact,” she went on, “you don’t know me any better now than you did then.” She forced her eyes on his, challenging his set, impassive expression to reveal some emotion. Any emotion. But his gaze, coolly resting on her flushed face for no more than a second, shifted to some distant point beyond her.

“You’re right about that, Clare. I thought I knew you then, but I was wrong.” He moved farther away from where she was standing. “Good luck with your signing in Hartford tomorrow and…all the best with your book tour.” He turned his back on her and walked steadfastly toward the center of the park.

She watched him go until she accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to change his mind and turn around. Slowly, her heart rate slowed to normal and the pounding in her head decelerated to a faint pulsing.

Clare picked up her purse from the bench and headed for her car on the far side of the park. When she passed John Calvin’s statue, she noticed the small bench to its right and a rush of memory overwhelmed her. It was the exact spot where she and Gil had parted company two nights after Rina Thomas was killed. The irony didn’t escape her. But it did fill her with a surge of sadness that she knew only time and distance from Twin Falls would vanquish.



“I WAS SO HAPPY when you called to say you could make it after all tonight,” Laura gushed as soon as she opened the front door. When Clare stepped into the hallway, Laura added, “You don’t have to worry about any indiscreet remarks, either, because only my folks are here and they’re totally engrossed in Emma.” Then she whispered, “But did you get a copy of the paper?”

“Yes, I did, as soon as I got back to the hotel. I agree with Anne-Marie. The article was completely off topic. If I wasn’t leaving tomorrow I’d lodge a complaint. But—” she shrugged and worked her face into a big smile “—who’s going to be reading the Spectator outside Twin Falls anyway?”

“Point taken,” Laura laughed. She looped her arm through Clare’s. “Come and get a drink. The food’s on its way and I’ve nothing to do but get caught up on the last couple of years.”

When the deliveryman arrived with cartons of Thai food, they gathered around the dining-room table and talked as they ate. After Laura’s parents left, Laura pulled Clare by the arm into the living room.

“Dave promised to put Emma to bed so we can have a little chat. More coffee?”

“Heavens, no. I’ll be up all night.” Clare sat in the armchair while Laura curled up on the couch across from her.

“So,” Laura said with a big smile, “how did your walk with Gil go?”

Clare laughed nervously. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”

“I always have. You know that. I don’t mince my words. But I was surprised that you took off with him. I mean, after the way you acted Friday night and then last night at dinner—”

“What’s that supposed to mean? The way I acted? Considering the shock of his appearance on your doorstep Friday night, I think I behaved very well. We were polite and courteous. We got through the ceremony without drawing blood.”

Laura laughed. “You both acted as if you were meeting for the first time. I wish you could have seen your face when he walked into the room. Dave was totally oblivious to the electricity zinging around, but I wasn’t.”

“You always tended to exaggerate, Laura. I doubt even a spark could be generated from any contact I might have with Gil Harper.”

“Ouch!” Laura grinned. “I take it the walk was polite and courteous then?”

Clare knew a fishing expedition when she saw one. “For the most part. At any rate, we said goodbye and…well, that’s that.” Clare shifted her attention to the table in front of the bay window where some of Emma’s gifts were on display. “I see Emma got some lovely things.”

Laura followed her gaze. “Yes. And thank you again for the beautiful dress. I noticed the label. It must have cost a fortune.”

Clare flushed. “Only fitting I think, from the godmother.”

“Gil gave her the sweetest teddy bear, as well as a silver locket that can hold a tiny photograph. I was surprised. I mean, he didn’t have much warning about being godfather.”

Gil again. Clare peered down at her watch, hoping Laura would take the hint. “I should go, Laura. Early start in the morning.”

“Oh, yes, you’re visiting the school. How did Miss Stuart sound on the phone?”

“The same. Though I’ve a feeling she’s married now or at least in a relationship. A man answered the phone.”

“That’s nice. Gee, it’ll be strange for you to be back at Twin Falls High, walking those corridors again. What time are you on for?”

“Nine-thirty. I have to leave by ten-thirty to get to Hartford before noon.”

“Did you tell me what bookstore in Hartford you’re going to be signing at?” Laura asked.

“A place called The Dust Jacket.”

“I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be an amazing store. Dave’s taken the day off tomorrow, otherwise I’d get him to pop by.”

Clare smiled, trying to picture Dave doing just that on a busy workday. She stood up. “I really should go, Laura.”

“I know. You’ve got glamorous things to do tomorrow while I’ll be nursing a baby and doing laundry.”

There was a wistful note in her voice that surprised Clare. “And doting on your beautiful baby. Don’t forget that!”

“Oh, no. Trust me, now I’ll never be able to see myself in any other role. It’s just that I never expected to…well…settle down like this without doing all the things I once dreamed of. Isn’t it ironic how we both have kind of exchanged places?”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when we were in our last year at Twin Falls High, dreaming of going off to college and starting new, exciting lives for ourselves?”

Clare smiled. “I do.”

“I distinctly recall one sleepover being entirely devoted to what we wished for in our future. I wanted to be rich, famous and travel the world. But what shocked me—at the ripe old age of seventeen—was that you said you wanted to marry Gil Harper and live in Twin Falls for the rest of your life.”

Clare’s smile froze. “I don’t remember that at all,” she said.

Laura held up a hand. “Now don’t get all worked up, Clare Morgan. But you did say it.”

Clare leaned over to pick up her purse, slung over the arm of her chair. Laura had an uncanny knack for calling up the most embarrassing moments in one’s life, she thought. But she did remember. Her ridiculous wish was uttered a scarce six months after she’d started dating Gil—when she was still madly in love with him. She draped her purse over her shoulder. “If you say so, Laura. You obviously have a much better memory than I.”

Laura cued in to the stiffness in Clare’s voice. She stammered out an explanation. “I was just thinking…you know…how funny it is that I married my high-school sweetheart and bought a house in Twin Falls while you went on to become rich and famous.”

Clare saw the worry in Laura’s face. Neither, she knew, wanted the weekend to finish on a sour note. She reached out and affectionately tapped the end of Laura’s nose. “Not rich or really famous yet but…hopefully…getting there.” When she laughed, Laura’s face creased in relief.

They smiled at one another for a long moment before Laura said, “Thanks ever so much for coming, Clare. I know how hard it must have been for you and I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Promise not to wait another two years before we see each other again?”

“Yes,” Clare said, reaching out to embrace her. “And when you’ve finished nursing Emma and are feeling like you need a break, let me know. I’d love some company.”

“Oh, I’ll take you up on that one for sure!” She walked Clare to the door. “Say hello to Miss Stuart for me.”

Clare waved goodbye and headed for her car. As she pulled away from the curb, she craned around to see Laura waving goodbye from the doorstep. Her adolescent wish from years ago surfaced again. If life had played out the way you’d expected, that would be you at home with a baby. That was the scenario she’d fantasized about while dating Gil, scrawling “Mrs. Clare Harper” over and over in her notebook during Chemistry class.

Instead, she’d led mainly a solitary life, finding fulfillment in teaching and later, success in writing. Success that had come at a price. Her hard work over the past few years had pretty much excluded a personal life. At least, one that sustained love and the promise of a long-term partnership. Now the notion of marriage and children was not only daunting, but completely mind-boggling.



“IT WAS SO WONDERFUL of you to come,” Lisa Stuart said to Clare as her twelfth-grade English class scrambled out the door.

Clare smiled at the woman who had been not only her favorite teacher in high school, but who’d inspired her to major in English at college. She was struck again by how little her teacher had changed over the years. But then, she reminded herself, seventeen years ago Lisa Stuart had been a new teacher and probably not much older than her students. It was odd how once you passed thirty, the age gap seemed to shrink.

“I just hope they weren’t too bored,” Clare said.

“Heavens, no! Did you notice how quiet it was in here when you were speaking? They hung on to every word.”

“Especially the ones referring to royalties,” Clare quipped.

“Yes, very typical of young people these days to get to the bottom line.” She sighed. “If there’s no money attached to something, it seems there’s no value in it. Are you sure you don’t want to come up to the staff room for a coffee?”

“I really need to get on the road. I’m due in Hartford at noon.”

Lisa nodded. “Thanks again, Clare. It was very nice to be able to brag about you. Teachers don’t always have success stories like yours. And it was lovely of you to attribute some of that success to me, though I think you were far too generous.”

“Not at all, Miss Stuart. You weren’t just my favorite. All the kids loved you. By the way, Laura Dundas sends her regards. Remember her? She married Dave Kingsway.”

“Please call me Lisa, Clare. And yes, I remember Laura very well. I saw the birth announcement in the Spectator. She and her husband must be thrilled.”

“They are.” Clare began to pack the sample books she’d brought into her canvas bag. She glanced around her.

“Missing something?”

“My new book. I passed it around but I don’t see it anywhere.”

Lisa frowned. “It’s got to be here.” She walked around the room. “There it is. Someone’s left it on a desk. Kids never seem to listen.” She brought it to Clare. “And thanks for signing my personal copy.”

Clare tucked the book into the bag. “Well thank you for buying a copy. I was going to give you one.”

“You can’t give them away, Clare. Every cent of royalty counts. Have you had a chance while you were in town to see many of your old high-school friends?”

Clare wondered how much her former teacher had been aware of her students’ personal lives. “Not really,” she evaded. “Most have moved out of Twin Falls.”

“I read yesterday’s article in the Spectator,” Lisa said.

Clare fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “Oh, yes? What did you think of it?”

“Typical of that reporter’s usual fare. An attempt to be sensational. To incite public speculation. I hate it when journalists pretend to be writing one thing but really have an agenda all their own. He starts off by claiming to review your novel and suddenly shifts into something that happened years ago. I haven’t finished your book yet, but I found his claims about the similarities between the two to be exaggerated.”

“I’m afraid people will think I was merely rewriting history and camouflaging it as fiction.”

“Well, obviously you drew on your experiences in a small town with your heroine but I never actually thought the story was based on real life.”

Clare swallowed hard, resisting the urge to admit that one or two incidents had actually occurred. “Plus the death in my novel wasn’t a murder.”

“Exactly. I thought Withers was stretching it to focus on the Rina Thomas murder the way he did. Anyway, it happened so long ago I doubt a lot of readers even know about the case.”

“Unfortunately, they do now.” Clare sighed.

“Don’t let people like Withers get to you, Clare. As I said, he was more interested in producing a bit of sensationalism than in giving an honest review.”

“Thanks for that. And thanks, too, for the opportunity this morning. It’s been a while since I faced a group of teenagers in a classroom.”

“Your teacher training was very evident, believe me,” Lisa said. “I’ve encouraged some of the kids to read the book for their novel study this term.”

Clare slipped on her coat, picked up the canvas book bag and her purse and walked with Lisa to the door. There, she impulsively hugged her. “Thanks again, Lisa. For everything.”

She hastened along the corridor to the exit nearest the parking lot. Her low heels clipped along the tile floor, echoing in the muted quiet as classes droned on behind closed doors. She had a sudden flash to another day when she had rushed along this same hall, eager to meet Gil on the playing field after his baseball practice.

She reached the exit and pushed down on the bar of the door, stepping outside. The field stretched ahead of her. It looked the same, she noted, though was now enhanced by tiers of bleachers for spectators.

Clare stared at it, remembering with sudden, vivid clarity the sight of Gil Harper embracing Rina Thomas out there. She had stared in disbelief from the very place where she was now poised, watching Gil and Rina walk arm in arm toward the ravine and the shortcut to the footbridge spanning the river. It was the last time she ever saw Rina Thomas.

Clare took a shaky breath. Relax, Clare. It’s all over and done with. And in a few minutes, you’re out of here.

She rounded the corner of the school to the parking lot, just as she had that day, only this time tears weren’t blinding her way. Striding to her car, she determined to put as much distance between the past and the present as quickly as possible. By the time she reached the sprawling outskirts of Hartford, Clare was thinking only of her book signing.

She parked in the lane behind the store, which was tucked into a beautifully renovated section of the old town. Clare took the canvas bag with some promotional bookmarks and posters and hoped that the shipment of books her publisher had ordered for the event had arrived. A clerk on standby at the rear of the building opened the door for her, greeting her enthusiastically.

There was already a small crowd milling about, in spite of the fact that it was a Monday. The manager took her coat, brought her coffee and a bottle of water, and ushered her to a solid and comfortable armchair behind the table. By the time Clare began, asking the name of the first person in line, she’d already pushed from her mind the morning visit to Twin Falls High.

This was the part of her new role in life that she loved—chatting to ordinary people who not only liked to read, but who liked to read her books. She still had difficulty accepting the idea that complete strangers would want to read something she wrote. She was sipping the last of her coffee when a man’s voice caught her attention and she looked up over the rim of her cup.

“Mr. Wolochuk?” she asked, squinting at the man in front of the table.

He gave a quick nod. “Nice to see you, Clare. And nice to see you remember me.”

“Of course I do. I—I struggled through your chemistry class in senior year.”

His tentative smile revealed an uneven set of tobacco-stained teeth. The years had obviously not been kind to Stanley Wolochuk, Clare thought. Stoop-shouldered with limp, graying hair, he looked close to retirement, although Clare guessed he must only be in his early fifties.

“If I recall correctly, you passed my course. And it appears you’ve gone on to bigger and better things.” He gestured to the stack of books on the table.

“I’ve been very lucky,” she said, knowing luck had been a small part of the process.

“Well…uh…when I saw the notice in the paper here about the signing, I thought I should come and say hello. And buy a book, too,” he added with a strained laugh. His long, sallow face creased into deep ridges. He nudged a copy of her novel toward her.

Clare flipped to the title page, her mind racing for an appropriate inscription. It was so much easier to write something innocuous to a stranger. Acquaintances and friends demanded more personal attention. She felt his eyes on her while she lowered her head to write. Scrawling something about having more success at writing than chemistry, she flipped over the cover when she’d finished.

“So are you still teaching, Mr. Wolochuk?”

“No, had to go on disability a few years ago.” He paused. “Heart condition.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Clare didn’t know what more to say. There was only one woman left in line behind him and she was thumbing through a book, apparently in no hurry. “I did a signing in Twin Falls yesterday,” she said, “and this morning, I paid a visit to the high school. Lisa Stuart asked me to speak to her senior English class.”

His eyes narrowed with interest. “Oh? How did that go?”

“Very well, or so Lisa assured me. Lots of questions from the kids at the end, which is always a good sign. Though most of them had to do with the money and fame aspects of publishing.”

“And…uh…” he paused, noisily clearing his throat, “did you have a chance to see any of your old friends?”

“One or two,” she said, keeping vague in order to cut short the conversation. The woman still in line was now looking up.

But Mr. Wolochuk seemed in no hurry. “Were you in town long?”

Clare shook her head. “Just for the weekend. Are you still living there?”

A flicker of some emotion Clare couldn’t read crossed his face. After a moment, he said, “No. Left there quite a while ago. I live here now.”

“Oh.” Clare saw the woman check her watch. “Well, it was very nice to see you again, Mr. Wolochuk, and thank you for buying my book.”

He gave a slight nod but stayed rooted in place. The woman behind him coughed and Wolochuk suddenly woke up to the fact that someone was waiting. He picked up the book and moved aside for the woman.

Clare smiled at her next customer and, just before inquiring about a name, glanced at Mr. Wolochuk. “Thanks again,” she said brightly.

“Yes. Goodbye then, and good luck.” He turned and walked away.

When Clare raised her head again, she caught a glimpse of the back of his faded denim jacket as he went out the front door. She saw him hesitate briefly on the sidewalk, as if he were thinking about coming back inside. Then he resumed walking and disappeared from view.

Clare blew a sigh of relief. Two former teachers in one day and both so very different. She’d always thought her chemistry teacher to be a bit odd. Now he seemed almost sad, as if life had been sucked right out of him.

Clare was packing her things when the store clerk rushed over to say there was an urgent phone call for her. “You can take it in the manager’s office,” the clerk was saying as she led the way.

Thoughts of who it could be flooded Clare’s mind—her mother, her agent? The one voice she wasn’t expecting to hear on the other end of the line was Laura’s.




CHAPTER FIVE


“CLARE! I’m so sorry to interrupt your signing but something has happened.”

“Laura! You sound terrible! What is it? What’s happened? Not Emma?”

“No, not Emma, thank God. It’s Dave. He was up on the roof this morning cleaning out the eavestrough and he fell off the ladder.”

“Oh, no! Is he okay?”

“He’s in surgery. A compound leg fracture.”

“God, that sounds horrible.”

“It could have been worse. The doctor says he’s a lucky man. But…but the thing is, Clare…” Laura’s voice wobbled and suddenly broke off.

Clare could hear her breathing heavily on the other end, trying to compose herself. “It’s all right, Laura. Take your time.”

“He has to be in hospital for at least a few more days and then when he comes home, he’ll be off work for a while longer. And the thing is, I just can’t manage on my own. I know I should be able to, but Emma’s still getting up at night and I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since she was born.”

Clare ignored the faint alarm bell going off in her head. Laura was calling for advice. That was all. “Well, isn’t there someone who can help out? Your parents or Dave’s?”

“Mine have already left for Florida, remember? And I hate to call them back. Dave’s mother’s in a nursing home and his older sister has her own problems.” There was a frustrated sigh. “The only friends I have here are all working, including Anne-Marie. There’s no one.” Her voice pitched in despair.

Clare’s hand tightened on the receiver. She sensed what was coming.

“Could you…I mean, this is a horrible thing to have to ask but I was wondering if you could come back and stay with me? Just for a couple of days while I try to find someone in town. You said you had a gap in your book tour, didn’t you?”

Clare closed her eyes, her imagined fear now out in the open. “Laura, I—I don’t think I’d be any help to you at all. I mean, I don’t know a thing about babies.”

“I just need someone to watch her while I go back and forth to the hospital. You know—well, I guess you don’t—but it’s so hard to pack up a baby and take her everywhere. Her schedule will be completely thrown off. Besides, I don’t know if they’d even let babies onto Dave’s ward.” She paused to catch her breath. “The other thing is, I just need another person around. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or what, but I can’t stand being alone.”

The rush of words told Clare that Laura was in no shape to take charge of the situation. “Okay, Laura. I’m finished here and I suppose I can afford a couple of days.”

“Oh, Clare, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ve been frantic here.”

Clare had a feeling that in other circumstances, her normally take-charge friend would have managed quite well. But perhaps the undercurrent of tension she’d picked up between Dave and Laura over the weekend was a sign of things not being normal in the Kingsway household. Whatever the reason, Clare knew she couldn’t refuse. She hung up the phone and stood for a long moment, thinking about the commitment she’d just made.

Rearranging her book tour wouldn’t be a problem. Her next signing wasn’t until the end of the month. Still, staying on longer in Twin Falls meant postponing following up on her recent book proposal with her editor. She’d submitted it just before leaving for Twin Falls and was looking forward to getting back to work on the project. But the note of desperation in Laura’s voice was impossible to ignore. Her friend needed her. The Dundas family had been there for Clare years ago, and now she had the opportunity to repay that debt. If she had any luck left at all—and she was starting to wonder about that—she’d be able to put in her two or three days and leave again without having to bump into Gil.

An hour and a half later, when the front door of the Kingsway home flew open at her knock, she knew luck had deserted her.

“Clare!”

“Gil. What are you doing here?”

“You heard about Dave?”

“Laura called me at the bookstore. Where I was signing,” she explained at the confusion in his face. It wasn’t only his unshaven face that added to his disheveled appearance, she was thinking. He was wearing jeans and a dark green plaid flannel shirt, tails out and unbuttoned to reveal a white T-shirt. His hair looked as though someone had been running fingers through it. Under any other circumstances, Clare might have thought there was a woman inside with him. But a sudden sharp wail from deep within the house told her the only female on the premises was baby Emma. A very unhappy baby Emma.

Clare brushed past Gil and stepped inside. “Is Laura home yet?”

“Still at the hospital. But she called a few minutes ago to say she’d be home in an hour or so.”

Thank heavens. “Did she call you to come over after it happened?”

He nodded. “I was cleaning out my dad’s garage at the time. The baby was asleep when I got here so I told Laura to go with Dave.”

Another long wail. His head jerked up, toward the stairs. “I think she’s awake now.”

“Sounds like it,” Clare said. “Maybe you should go get her.”

“Me?”

She smiled at the incredulity in his voice. “Aren’t you the baby-sitter?”

“Well, uh, isn’t that what you’re here for?” When she failed to reply, he said, “Then I’ll leave you to it,” and made for the door.

“Wait! You can’t leave yet.”

“I’ve an appointment in half an hour with a real-estate agent at my dad’s place. I was about to call and cancel, but fortunately for me, you arrived in time.”





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