hairs at the nape of Callie’s neck prickled.
There was something strangely intense about the look he was giving her.
And how would he know Leland wasn’t at home when he’d only just arrived in town himself?
Chapter Three
“I don’t understand.”
Jack saw the uneasy flicker in the woman’s expression. Fair enough. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of her, either.
How was he supposed to believe her claim that Lanny had married again, had replaced his first wife with someone so unlike the vibrant, delicate and pretty-as-a-spring-meadow woman Julia had been?
Not that this woman was unattractive. He couldn’t see much of her face, but she had a nice enough smile and a trim figure.
But she wasn’t Julia.
In Nell’s last letter she’d mentioned how hard a time Lanny was having dealing with Julia’s passing. It was one of the reasons Jack had been thinking about making a visit home.
This remarriage thing just didn’t make sense.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He tried to keep his voice even. No point fanning her distrust. “I know you have questions. To be honest, I have a few for you as well. But it’s a mite hot out here on the sidewalk.”
He nodded toward the open door to the hotel. “Why don’t we step inside and find a more comfortable place to talk.” Not to mention less public.
He saw her hesitation and spoke up again before she could object. “I’m sure Virgil won’t mind watching our bags while we figure this out.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.” Virgil gamely followed his lead. “I mean, no, I don’t mind at all. You two just go right ahead. And take your time. I mean, you have a lot—”
“There, that’s settled.” Jack used his best take-charge tone to cut off Virgil’s rambling. He wanted to give her the news his way, in his time.
He pointed to the trunk and carpetbag still sitting on the sidewalk. “So, are these yours? We’ll just set them with mine over here out of the way.”
Once he got her inside they could sort through her story without the whole town looking on. It was a pretty sure bet that once he told her why Lanny wasn’t here to meet her there was going to be a scene of some sort.
Which was another good reason to get her inside—it would be right handy to have her already seated in case she decided to swoon. He just hoped she wasn’t one of those melodramatic females who were prone to hysterics.
But her lips compressed in a stubborn line. “Just a minute, Mr. Tyler. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my husband is.” She tugged on that bonnet again. “And what exactly did you mean by ‘figure this out?’”
Just his luck—she was going to be muleheaded. “Ma’am, trust me, you really don’t want to have this conversation out here in the middle of town.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow, trying a bit of intimidation. Couldn’t she see that he just wanted to make this easier on her?
Rather than backing down, though, the obstinate woman tilted her chin even higher. “It’s a simple question, sir, requiring a simple answer. Where is my husband?”
Jack dropped his arms and narrowed his eyes. At another time he might have admired her spirit, her stubborn resolve. But not today. He was too tired from four days of travel and frustrating delays—four days of trying to absorb the impact of what had happened—to continue this argument.
She wanted to know where Lanny was, then so be it. “Have it your way. I’ll take you right to him.”
“Huh?” Virgil almost dropped the bag he held. “Jack, what are—”
Jack raised a hand. “No, no, it’s okay.” He gave his friend a tight smile. “I planned to pay a visit when I got here anyway. No point putting it off, and this lady might as well come along.”
Virgil shot a look toward the far end of town, then shifted his gaze uncertainly from the woman back to Jack.
Jack clapped him on the shoulder before he could protest again, or worse yet, blurt out something that would set off a scene. “You don’t mind seeing to our luggage while the lady and I take a little walk, do you?”
“No, of course not. But—”
“Good.” With a short nod, Jack turned back to Lanny’s self-proclaimed bride and swept his hand out in a gesture that was more challenge than good manners. “Shall we?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she drew her lower lip between her teeth and gave that odd-looking bonnet another tug forward.
Jack’s flash of irritation turned inward. There he went, taking his frustrations out on someone else.
Again.
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling wearier than he ever had in his twenty-nine years. He hadn’t had more than the odd thirty-minute nap here or there since he’d gotten that telegram.
And he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do now that he was here. Just the thought of—
He shook his head, trying to focus on the current issue. That other business was his problem, not this woman’s. Given the circumstances, she deserved better treatment. “Look, ma’am, I—”
“Very well.” She spoke over his attempted apology as if he hadn’t opened his mouth. Her spine was rail-spike stiff, all signs of hesitation and uncertainty replaced by an air of determination. “Lead the way.”
It was Jack’s turn to hesitate. He could tell she was still a bit uneasy and admired her pluck, but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Yes, taking her along would give them a bit of privacy, but it would also put him alone with her when he broke the news. He wasn’t good at dealing with emotional women. And he certainly wasn’t in any shape to deal with one today.
Then he shrugged. She had to be told, and his gut said she wouldn’t get all hysterical on him.
“This way.”
They started down the sidewalk, Jack matching his pace to her shorter stride.
They walked in silence. Jack kept his eyes focused straight ahead and refused to slow his step, halting any would-be greetings from the folks they passed with a short nod. He wasn’t ready to talk to his former friends and neighbors right now.
He had to get this over with first.
He carefully avoided looking at whatever was left of Nell and Jed’s café, but as they drew even with it he could smell the acrid odor of scorched wood and ashes that still lingered in the air, threatening to suffocate him.
Jack shot a quick glance at the blackened remains in spite of himself.
A definite mistake.
Loss and guilt slammed into him again, harder this time, like a fist in the gut. It was as if he’d tossed a stick of explosives into the building himself, leaving this grotesque skeleton of charred timbers and debris.
He scrubbed a hand along the right side of his face. Perhaps if he’d made plans to come home before now, to make amends. If he had been here when—
“Pardon me.”
His companion’s breathless words interrupted his thoughts. A quick glance her way revealed she was struggling to keep up.
He slowed immediately. “Sorry, ma’am. My mind was on something else.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the charred rubble, then back at him with dawning dismay. “That building, it was the café, wasn’t it?”
He felt that betraying muscle in his jaw twitch. “Yes.” And just how did she know that?