a flame and quickly jumped to an inferno as it climbed her spine, jittered her nerves and settled, unfortunately for Vickie, in Lily’s mouth.
“For heaven’s sake, Vickie!” Lily leaned back, but kept her gaze locked eyeball to eyeball with the younger woman. “You’ve known Mari Bingham all your life. And you can ask me something like that?”
Vickie’s expression tightened, and a flash of what might have been shame darted across her eyes, but it was gone again in an instant, so it was hard to be sure. “I’m just askin’,” she said, defending her right to badmouth an old friend. “There’s been talk.”
“There certainly has,” Lily snapped, then belatedly remembered to keep her voice down. She shot a quick look around the diner, then focused her gaze on Vickie again. “And its being spread by people too foolish or too ignorant to know any better.”
“Now, Ms. Cunningham…” Insulted, she straightened up.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Lily said, grabbing Vickie’s hand as the woman started backing off. “You asked me a question and you’re not leaving until you’ve had your answer.”
But Vickie was obviously regretting saying anything. Her gaze darted around the room, and even Lily could see that Danny, the cook and owner, was watching them from the kitchen. It didn’t stop her.
“Now, you listen to me, Vickie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mari Bingham is the most dedicated, caring, loving person I’ve ever known. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen and she’s devoted herself to making sure you and every other woman in Merlyn County get the kind of care you deserve.”
“Yes.” Anxious now, Vickie was willing to agree to anything as she tried to pull her hand free of Lily’s grasp. She didn’t succeed.
“Any problems that are going on have nothing to do with Mari or her clinic and you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that they do.”
“Ms. Cunningham…”
But Lily’s temper was up and there was just no stopping her. Her voice dropped a notch, but none of the fury left it. “Do you really believe for one instant that Mari Bingham is dealing drugs?”
Vickie sucked in a breath, clearly horrified. “Course not, but—”
“No buts. Do you trust Mari? Do you know her?”
“Yes—”
“Then don’t you think you’ve answered your own question, Vickie?”
“I guess so, but still there’s—”
Lily’s eyes narrowed and Vickie shut up fast, keeping whatever she’d been about to say to herself. Just as well, Lily thought. It would do no good to browbeat the populace of Binghamton one at a time. For heaven’s sake, if they didn’t believe in one of their own, how on earth could she, an outsider, convince them? And Lily had no illusions about her status. She could live in Binghamton for the next fifty years and she’d always be considered an outsider.
Taking a deep breath, she blew it out again quickly, then forced a smile she didn’t feel and released her grip on Vickie’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving the waitress’s hand a belated pat. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“It’s okay,” Vickie admitted. “My Bill, he’s always saying I’m enough to drive a saint right out of Heaven.”
“Well,” Lily said with a short laugh, “I’m no saint.”
Vickie took an uneasy step backward but shared the laugh. “And the Junction sure isn’t Heaven.”
“Too true.” Lily smoothed her hair back from her face, then calmly and coolly folded her hands together on the scarred tabletop. “So, I guess I’ll be staying. Could I have that milkshake right away, Vickie. I think I could use a little cooling off.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I mean, yes, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As the younger woman scurried back toward the counter, Lily sucked in another deep breath and told herself she was going to have to take it easy. It wouldn’t help Mari’s or the clinic’s case at all if word got around that their PR director was running around town shouting at people who disagreed with her.
Damn it.
“That was well done.”
The deep voice came from the booth directly behind her, and Lily stilled completely. Only one man she knew had a voice as deep and rumbling as that. And wouldn’t you know he’d be sitting right behind her.
Shifting on the seat, she glanced over her shoulder and met Ron Bingham’s steady gaze. Really, his eyes were more blue than green, but most of the time they were just the shade of the ocean.
Which had nothing to do with anything.
“I suppose you heard everything.”
“You’re not exactly a quiet woman, Ms. Cunningham.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Do you have to do that?” she demanded.
“Do what?”
“Call me Ms. Cunningham.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’ve been here several months, now. Don’t you think you could break down and call me Lily?”
He leaned one arm on the seatback and stared at her. “Suppose I could.”
“That’s something, then.” Deciding to ignore him and the fact that no matter where she went he seemed to pop up like the proverbial bad penny, she turned around again.
“Alone, huh?”
His voice came from right behind her head, and Lily was half ready to swear she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Why that should give her goose bumps was something she wasn’t about to explore.
“There’s that keen detecting skill again,” she quipped and glanced at the counter where Vickie was pouring a strawberry milkshake into a tall, frosted glass.
“I’m alone, too.”
“I noticed.” Lily still didn’t look at him. For pity’s sake. Couldn’t a person get a milkshake in this town without a fuss?
“Want company?”
Vickie was on her way over and Lily took just a moment to turn around. She almost bumped her nose on his. He’d leaned in so close, he was practically draped over her shoulders. “Why do you want to sit with me?” she asked, and didn’t even care if that question came out a little more bluntly than she’d planned.
“You’re alone, I’m alone.” He shrugged.
“Joe Biscone’s alone, too.” She pointed to where a huge man in a plaid shirt and faded green fishing vest sat at the end of the counter.
Ron winced. “Lily,” he said, “sometimes there’s a reason people are alone.”
Her lips twitched. She didn’t want to smile, but damn it, he made it tough. He was so stiff, so serious, but the look on his face when she suggested he go sit by the man who always smelled like the bass he continually caught off the dock behind his house had been priceless.
“Here you go, Ms. Cunningham.” Vickie slid the pale-pink strawberry shake onto the table and then scuttled out of range as if afraid Lily was gearing up for round two.
Now it was Lily’s turn to wince. “Did you see that?” she asked, and didn’t wait for an answer. “That girl’s going to go home tonight and tell Billy and her mother and her mother’s hairdresser and the hairdresser’s cousin’s sister’s aunt’s best friend that mean old Ms. Cunningham yelled at her.”
“And