Until She Met Daniel (12 page)

“The Irish way, with plenty of milk and sugar.”

That was the way Mandy liked it, too, so she quickly made him a cup and brought it out with a plate of scones. She wasn't lonely, but being neighborly would be a way to offset any clashes at City Hall. And she had a feeling there were more clashes in the offing—their contacts so far suggested they had different approaches to how they did practically everything.

Daniel bit into a scone. “Mmm, delicious. But I'm getting fed again, and I actually came over to see if I could thank you with a meal or something.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Hey, I was able to take a shower this morning after my run. That's a big deal to me.” He smiled. “It'll make me feel better if I'm allowed to show my appreciation.”

She smiled back. “Okay, but only as a favor to you.”

“Good, how about tonight?”

His face was casual and relaxed, so she nodded. “Sounds good.”

* * *

L
ATE
S
UNDAY
 
AFTERNOON
,
Chris soaped his shoulders in the shower and rinsed off. He would have preferred emptying the hot water tank to show his disdain for the water issue, but while he believed the furor had been artificially hyped, he also believed in conservation. So he turned off the faucet as soon as the soap was gone. Despite the fact they lived outside town, the house had been able to tap into Willow's Eve's water supply. Now he wished they'd dug a well instead.

He usually waited to shower until later in the evening, but to work off his frustration, he'd done yard work all afternoon. It was better than having another argument with his wife.

He dressed and then went into the hallway, catching the scent of chicken drifting through the air. Damn. Susan cooked meat in the house mostly when she was angry; she knew he didn't like smelling it, especially at home. Not that he'd ever admitted the real explanation...that it made him crave meat. Instead he'd tried to convince her that the scent was unpleasant.

“Chicken?” he questioned as he came into the kitchen.

“I'm not a vegetarian,” Susan snapped. “And this is my home, too.”

“So if I want to smoke, that would be okay, because it's also my home?”

“If you can keep the smoke to yourself and want to sleep in your own bed alone, go ahead.”

“You aren't keeping the smell of chicken to yourself,” he returned, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut in the first place.

“It's not the same thing, and you know it. Besides, I cook meat in this house maybe ten times in a year. By all rights I should get half of the three hundred and sixty-five days for the meals I enjoy eating. But no, it's vegetarian the vast majority of the time. And you have the nerve to complain that my father always insists on his own way.”

“Don't you dare compare me to that environmental rapist.”

“I'm just saying the pot can't call the kettle black and then expect me not to notice.” Her voice was crisp.

Breathing hard, Chris stared at Susan, and she suddenly seemed like a stranger. They almost never argued, and he'd been proud they'd had the good sense to put a lid on their disagreements when things got heated or uncomfortable.

“There's absolutely no resemblance between me and the medieval way your father tries to control his family,” Chris said, his own voice rising.

She whirled around to face him. “You've got to be kidding. Maybe that's the real reason you two don't get along—you're too much alike. You both want it your way and don't ever listen to anyone else's point of view.”

“Bull. I'm not taking advantage of my employees to make a buck and I'm not ready to force a town to pay for more water for the same reason.”

“He's a decent employer,” Susan hissed. “I should know because I write the checks and hear about any complaints. I've told you that, but you won't believe anything except what supports your own narrow-minded prejudices. And the town
needs
water, whether or not the great Chris Russell agrees.”

Suddenly, he'd had it. Chris wheeled and stalked into the bedroom to throw some of his clothing into a suitcase, then marched to the front door and opened it.

“Where are you going?” Susan demanded.

“I've decided you were right on Friday when you canceled our date night. We need to spend some time apart.”

“Fine, leave. You always know best.”

“At least I'm not throwing out nasty insults.” With that, he closed the door with more force than he'd intended.

* * *

T
HE
 
NEXT
 
MORNING
 
Susan went into work with a pleasant expression pasted on her face, determined to keep everyone from knowing anything was wrong.

How could Chris have walked out like that? Over a stupid dam, no less? Or a water treatment plant? Hell, over
sewage.
And was he talking about a real separation, or just a few days apart to cool off?

Jeez, he was acting like a jerk. A complete
male
jerk. An eighteenth-century guy who thought women having the vote was redundant, since, after all, a woman would naturally cast her ballot the same way her husband did.

She
wasn't
simply adopting her father's point of view. And if Chris wasn't so darned stubborn, he'd see that Willow's Eve was in trouble. After all, their own son showed no interest in returning once he graduated from school. The majority of the local kids went off to college or the military or found jobs in the city, coming home only to visit.

But Chris didn't get it...he didn't
want
to get it. If Joe Jensen was on one side of the issue, then her husband was automatically on the other—a knee-jerk reaction. She'd dealt with it for twenty years and was damned sick of being in the middle. Chris couldn't even prove the various proposals for new water sources would do any harm.

“Hi, honey,” said Joe Jensen's voice from the door.

She glanced up and forced a smile. “Hi, Dad. Be careful with those ‘honeys.' The other employees might start thinking I get special treatment.”

“You won't let me. And a father should give his only child the best he has to give.”

“If you're uncomfortable with our arrangement I can find an accounting job in Vicksville,” she offered. “Now that Evan is away at college, the commute distance wouldn't matter as much.”

“Hell, no,” Joe grumbled. “The books have never been run better, even if you are part-time.”

“In that case, I'd better get back to work.”

Joe planted himself in the chair on the other side of her desk. “You can take a few minutes to talk with your boss.”

“Okay, what's on your mind, boss?”

“My sources tell me your husband walked out last night, the damned loafer.”

The familiar pain of knotting muscles crept over Susan's back. Her father saw no value to forestry management unless it helped decide which section to clear-cut next. It had been a huge battle until he'd agreed to buy from companies that harvested trees instead of cutting everything wholesale. She'd hoped the switch would cool the hostility between Chris and Joe, but she should have known it was a pipe dream. There was a vast philosophical gulf between them, and each had her in a stranglehold, pulling her apart.

Susan shifted, her resentment growing. Chris had never given her credit for pushing the clear-cut issue with her father. And he'd certainly never considered there might be more effective ways to influence his father-in-law's policies than shouting at him.

Of course, she'd questioned how much of their antagonism was actually over environmental issues...and how much over
her.
They both wanted her unquestioned loyalty and support, as if she were a mannequin with no thoughts or beliefs of her own.

“Chris isn't a loafer,” she said quietly. “He works hard.”

“Not at his marriage. Is it true? Did he leave?”

“We're...we're taking a break, nothing more.”

She hoped she was right. But one thing had become crystal clear—even if the water issue vanished, her marriage would still be in trouble. Whether Chris recognized it was another matter.

Realizing she'd gotten lost in her thoughts, she saw her father had raised an eyebrow at her.

“I'd better get back to work,” she said. “Payday is coming up and your employees tend to think they should receive their checks on time.”

Joe chuckled as he left and Susan fought back tears. Crying wouldn't change a thing.

 

CHAPTER NINE

D
ANIEL
 
COULD
 
HARDLY
 
believe only a couple of weeks had passed since his arrival in Willow's Eve. It seemed more like months, and long hard months at that.

Some of it was coming home to an empty house. He missed Samantha more than he'd thought possible, and seeing her over Skype was a poor substitute for actually being together. Luckily, Joyce had gotten things set up with the computer so he could read to Samantha at bedtime, and he'd made a fast trip down to Southern California one weekend to see her. Unfortunately, they'd had only a few hours together because of his flight schedule, but it had been worth it. And now that his ex-wife's wedding was over, both Joyce and Samantha were free to come north.

Before going into the office, he sat in his car and phoned Joyce. She and Samantha were leaving the following day for their trip to Willow's Eve.

“Hello,” she answered.

“It's me. I was calling to check in and see if you're still sure about driving up alone. I could get a flight Friday evening and we could come together over the weekend instead.”

“That's thoughtful, Daniel, but I can handle it. The car has GPS and you made sure it was in good condition before you left. It will be an adventure, and I think it's high time I had one.”

Daniel smiled.

Asking Joyce if she would come to Willow's Eve and help take care of Samantha had been awkward. It hardly seemed fair to ask a sixty-five-year-old woman if she would leave her home behind and share child-rearing responsibilities with him. If he'd been staying in Southern California, it wouldn't have been necessary. There'd been several trusted people and facilities he could have employed, but Willow's Eve was an unknown quantity and he didn't want to leave his daughter in a stranger's hands.

Besides, he'd grown close to Joyce through the years, far closer than to his own bitter mother. Joyce's warm, cheerful humor was the kind of thing he wanted Samantha to experience when she came home from school.

“I know you'll call if you need anything,” he said.

“And even if we don't, we'll call to share the fun. We're going to take it slow. You drove a good part of it at night, so you didn't see the sights.”

“There isn't much to see in California's Central Valley.”

“Daniel, you know better than that,” Joyce scolded gently. “There are fields and orchards, sunflowers and small towns. And when you get up north, there's Mount Shasta. I haven't seen it since I was a girl, except from a plane. I'm going to stay inland until we see it, then head for the coast.”

Daniel chuckled. “Taking the mountain highways farther north will probably mean a longer drive, but have a good trip.”

“We will. Take care, son.”

With a grimace he swung out of the Jeep and strode toward the double doors of City Hall. It hadn't been a good day yesterday and he didn't expect a better one today.

Fortunately, no one was in sight so he was able to close his office door and focus on the task at hand.

The water issue was consuming almost everything. On his desk and in his computer, he had dozens of reports, including one from a decade earlier. Water had come up then, too, and a study had been done on the feasibility of building another reservoir. There was a good site, but the cost had seemed prohibitive. Now the current reservoir was even more clogged with silt and often ran low. Between that, and Joe Jensen's desire to expand his business, they could no longer ignore the issue.

Thursday could be dramatic with another council meeting, this time wholly dedicated to the subject of water. Daniel's goal in management had been to find win-win solutions to problems. It wasn't going to be easy this time. But a community couldn't be completely healthy if there were winners crowing or losers grumbling, especially in a community the size of Willow's Eve. Despite his inexperience with small towns, it didn't take much imagination to know the winners and losers would know each other awfully well.

Three raps sounded on his door. It had to be Mandy. No one else had that energetic knock, and he automatically tensed. They'd had a nice dinner on Saturday, but he'd buried himself in work and unpacking ever since. It wasn't that he disliked Mandy, but he
had
resolved to keep some distance between her and his daughter, and the best way to do that was to keep a distance himself.

“Come in,” he called.

“Hi,” she said. “I wanted to tell you some of the seniors are coming to the meeting tomorrow night.”

He nodded, hardly surprised. The shock would be if they
didn't
come. It wasn't that this was a more emotionally charged issue than other problems he'd dealt with in the past, but it seemed intensely personal in Willow's Eve—a prime example being the Russell couple. Susan Russell felt the community needed more water, while her husband was bitterly opposed. They both had influence in the community, and it upped the stakes dramatically.

“I expect a good turnout of interested citizens across-the-board,” he told her. “Nothing is being done under the table.”

“Sure, but the seniors are dreadfully worried, and they aren't hearing anything from you directly.”

“I had to ask members of the city council to handle the public inquiries so I could get something done.”

“They want to talk to
you.
I know you aren't the one who brought up the water issue, but Howard waited until you were here to introduce it to the city council. Intentional or not, he sent a message that you're the expert.”

“I'm an administrator, not a civil engineer or trained ecologist. And I can't spend all my time dispelling rumors.”

Mandy crossed her arms. “Margaret says you avoided her the other evening.”

“I didn't avoid her. I was taking my evening run at the park, so I waved and kept going. My responsibilities are important to me, but I get time off, the same as anyone else.”

“Okay. But can't you take an hour of
work
time to explain what's going on? You could come to lunch and do a quick summary afterward.”

“The seniors can get all the information I'm able to share from the council's meeting minutes.”

Mandy's eyes widened. “‘Able to share?' Ohmigod, there
are
secrets.”

“No,”
Daniel said hastily. “But if I make announcements in a setting such as the luncheon, it may appear as if decisions have been made.
All
I have is information.”

“They're smarter than that.”

“The public may be smart, but...” He cleared his throat. “Not everyone
acts
smart,” he said carefully.

“That's a crummy thing to say,” Mandy said, her mouth tightening.

“It's true, and if you weren't biased, you'd admit it. Emotions make people do crazy things.”

“There's nothing wrong with being biased. It means you fight for things you care about.”

“That's what I'm trying to avoid, a fight.”

“Except you're only getting people more stirred up by not talking about what's happening.”

Daniel pressed a finger to his aching temple. “Look, there's an appropriate,
professional
way of doing things. A city is similar to a business and needs to be run objectively.”

“Are you completely heartless?” she demanded, stomping forward a few steps. “We're not discussing selling roofing nails or lingerie. We're talking about people's lives and their retirement savings, maybe the difference between a small sense of security and the fear they could lose their homes. The people at the center are really stressed out and I don't want it to affect their health.” She stopped, breathing quickly. “You might be a professional, but that doesn't mean you have to be a robot.”

Mandy's rapid, angry breathing drew Daniel's unwilling attention to her bustline, and he groaned silently. If only he
was
a robot, instead of completely and utterly human—a fully functional
male
human, whose brains were in his pants at the moment. He rubbed his eyes, shutting out the sight of her taut breasts beneath her T-shirt, but it didn't help. He couldn't help imagining what it would be like to peel that fabric up and discover what sort of bra she wore...and how she looked without any barriers.

“Don't ignore me,” Mandy said.

Gathering his composure with an effort, he opened his eyes and schooled his features into a bland mask. “I apologize,” he said politely. “That was rude. Please tell the seniors that I'm sorry, but they should attend the city council meetings to learn more and ask questions. I truly sympathize with their concerns, but there are enough rumors flying already.”

“Then why not come to lunch and separate rumor from fact? Communication is part of a ‘properly' run business, and some of them can't attend the city council meetings because they're at night.”

He couldn't deny Mandy had a valid point, yet he had a curious notion that more was going on than Mandy's concern for the seniors or how he was handling the situation.

“I'll think about it and get back to you,” he told her.

She wheeled and left, only to open the door again a second later. “By the way, tomorrow is another meat loaf day,” she announced. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a goad, or a last-ditch appeal.

When he was alone again, Daniel tossed his pen down so hard it skidded off the desk. Life would be much easier if the Senior Center had been under the city manager's office. Mandy was right about him. He liked rules, and one of his personal rules was not getting involved with a woman under his supervisory umbrella. Granted, his resolve had never been tested—for most of his career he'd been a married man. And despite his questions about marriage as an institution, he believed in fidelity.

Now he was single and Mandy was still off-limits, and it wasn't just because neither one of them was currently interested in a relationship. She was volatile. Emotional. He'd grown up in an emotional war zone and had no intention of venturing back into shark-infested waters. Hell, Mandy made his ex-wife look catatonic by comparison.

What's more, she preferred temporary jobs and didn't stay anywhere for longer than a few months—a will-o'-the-wisp, who fluttered from place to place on a whim. There was no way to know when Mandy would decide she was bored with Willow's Eve—and the next thing the seniors would see was the back of her Volkswagen as she drove away.

Unfortunately, his body didn't care how many excellent reasons he had to ignore Mandy's attractions. But he was in charge of his life, and that included being in charge of his body.

* * *

M
ANDY
 
DOODLED
 
A
 
strange figure on her notepad. It looked like something between a monster and a pleading puppy. Symbolic? And if it was, what did it symbolize?

What had Daniel meant by saying he'd “think” about it and get back to her? Maybe he was considering coming to the senior lunch after all. She wasn't holding her breath. He was determined to behave according to his idea of a professional city manager, but being professional didn't have to mean not caring about people, and if it did, then the hell with it.

Sighing, she checked with the volunteer cook in the kitchen, then returned to her office to review the student list for the upcoming safe-driving class. The seniors had been somewhat offended by her plan for the class...until they learned their insurance rates could go down for successfully completing the course. The sign-ups had come fast and furious after that.

Edgy, Mandy double-checked the list. Trouble was brewing in town, the kind that could make it uncomfortable to stay in Willow's Eve. She thought about her cozy house and the friends she'd made...and hated the thought of leaving. She wasn't ready yet.

Maybe it was simply Daniel putting her on edge. She'd had the oddest feeling he'd gotten aroused during their argument. There was something about the way his eyes opened, and he'd certainly glanced at her chest, though he could simply have been disapproving of her T-shirt, sporting a saucy print of Sylvester the Cat. Still, if it had been any other guy...oh, that was silly.

Anyway, she didn't even want him to be interested in her, something she'd made perfectly clear.

Daniel was a starched bureaucrat who didn't care about people like seniors, struggling to meet the rising costs of medicine and find doctors willing to take Medicare. And there were other people in town who couldn't handle a big assessment, as well. Not that there'd
necessarily
be an assessment big enough to cause a problem. If the town got a federal grant or if they decided on a more economical solution...if...if...if.

Mandy pressed a finger to her right temple; she must stop overreacting. Daniel might be
acting
like a starched bureaucrat, but it didn't make him one. It was just hard for her to understand people who kept their emotions hidden. How did you know where they were coming from, or what they cared about?

Besides, she was worried about Susan and Chris.

Were the rumors true about Chris moving out? Susan had said they were arguing over the water and sewer proposals, plus Chris was a fanatic about the environment. Was he fanatic enough to end his marriage because of a differing point of view?

Hell, the past few weeks it seemed the whole town had been gearing up for war. Did they ever wonder how much water mattered if everyone hated each other?

* * *

D
ANIEL
 
THOUGHT
 
LONG
 
and hard about Mandy's request, then hit the speed dial on his phone for the mayor's office.