too—two half-bothers and an Uncle Buddy. She’d done as much research as she could on them. Then with her pencil, she retraced the other stick figure she’d drawn a short distance from the cluster. If she flew out to San Francisco, she would also get to meet Jack Kincaid.
In the past two weeks, she’d done research on him, too. Currently, he was writing feature articles for the San Francisco Chronicle. Before that, he’d spent eight years working his way up through various news services by covering hot spots throughout the world, and he’d written a Pulitzer prize-winning book based on his experiences. After pulling it out of her bag, she set it on the table next to her mother’s picture. She’d read every word of it, and it had held her spellbound. He’d traveled to all the places that she’d only dreamed about.
Drawing in a deep breath, Corie shifted her gaze back to her mother’s picture. “It’s not like I’m acting on impulse. I’ve given the idea some careful thought, and I think we should work out a compromise. I’ll spend one week in San Francisco, and then I’ll come back.” She tried to tell herself that she wouldn’t be breaking her promise, just bending it.
The silence that greeted her proposal nearly deafened her. Then the shrill ring of the phone made her jump.
Corie glanced at her watch. She still had five minutes. She needed five more minutes.
The phone rang again. The number on the caller ID box told her it was Jack Kincaid. She had to pick it up. What in the world was the matter with her? Was she as afraid of the world as her mother had been? She grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”
“Corie, did you get the ticket?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’ll leave Columbus at 7:15 a.m. on Wednesday, the day after tomorrow, change planes in Chicago, and touch down in San Francisco shortly before noon.”
As Jack spoke, Corie tried to resist the effect that his deep, baritone voice always had on her, but the tingle of awareness began to slide through her.
“I’ve found you a place to stay. The owner of my building, Franco Rossi, was my roommate in college, and he has an apartment you can use. Two other women are using it on a time-share basis, but it’s all yours for the time being. And if you decide to stay on in San Francisco, he’s sure that you can work something out with them.”
Corie closed her eyes as the tingle reached her toes and she felt them curl.
“How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” And Jack Kincaid was almost perfect, too. Opening her eyes, she turned his book over and studied his picture on the jacket. Besides the voice that she was sure could charm snakes, he had dark, unruly hair, the darkest gray eyes she’d ever seen and a dimple in his chin that tempted her to touch it. Unable to resist, Corie ran her finger over it. He was making things so easy for her.
Another of her mother’s commandments had been “Never trust a charming man. He’ll lie to you and you’ll believe him.”
Corie suppressed a sigh. Jack Kincaid had already lied to her—or at least lied by omission. Not once during their conversations had he ever told her that the man who might very well be her father had at one time been connected to an organized crime family in New Jersey. Of course, Benjamin Lewis’s businesses were supposedly on the up-and-up now. Indeed, according to Jack, he’d become a pillar of the community. On Friday he was going to be honored for building the new children’s wing at San Francisco Memorial Hospital.
“Then I’ll pick you up at the airport Wednesday morning?” Jack asked.
Corie’s gaze slipped to her mother’s picture. “I didn’t agree to come yet.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Corie closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. What was the matter with her? She wouldn’t blame him if he gave up on her entirely.
“Corie, you are a very tough sell.”
She opened her eyes in surprise. It wasn’t anger or impatience she heard in his voice. It was patient amusement.
“The problem is if you don’t come, you’ll never know if Benjamin Lewis is really your father. Can you live with that question nagging at you for the rest of your life?”
The man sure knew how to hit the nail right on the head. If she didn’t go, she’d always wonder about the man who might be her father, wonder what he was like, wonder if she was like him…
A knock at the door had her whirling around. She spotted Muriel Ponsonby through the glass, and, for one brief moment, she was tempted to duck under the table and hide. Too late. Muriel was already waving at her.
“Hold on a minute,” she said to Jack. “Someone’s at the door.” She no sooner pulled it open than Muriel beamed a huge smile at her and said, “Missy La Rue had to cancel for bridge tonight, and Harold Mitzenfeld has agreed to fill in. I’m going to make sure he’s your partner.”
For a moment, Corie was sorely tempted to fake a faint. It couldn’t be all that difficult. All she would have to do was close her eyes and slip bonelessly to the floor. Then Muriel would have to find someone else to be Harold’s bridge partner. Middle-aged and portly, Harold Mitzenfeld was a recently widowed geology professor at the college. The few times she’d run into him in the library, his conversation hadn’t strayed beyond rocks.
“You’re speechless,” Muriel said, rubbing her hand together. “I knew you would be. I just had to let you know. Eligible bachelors are so hard to come by in Fairview, but I know your mother would expect me to do my best for you. And she would have approved of Harold. Now, don’t you be late.” With a wave, Muriel turned and hurried off.
Corie stared after her, but she wasn’t seeing Muriel. All she could see was her life in Fairview unfolding before her—an endless sea of bridge clubs, quilting circles, book discussion groups…and Harold Metzenfeld!
Whirling, she closed the door and marched back to the hall table. Jack’s face smiled up at her from the book jacket—pure temptation. Then she met her mother’s steady gaze—pure guilt trip.
In desperation, she glanced up at the mirror that filled the wall above the table. The person staring back at her did not look like she belonged in San Francisco. Plain brownish blond hair was slipping out of the bun she wore it in. Even at twenty-five, she looked to be exactly what she was—a plain-looking, boring college librarian. In short, she was the kind of woman that her neighbors thought was a perfect match for Harold Metzenfeld.
She did not want to be that woman!
Panic and frustration bubbled up inside of her. She’d felt just this way the day that she’d stood on the roof and wanted so much to fly. She did not want to be Corie Benjamin, drab librarian. And if she went to San Francisco, for seven whole days, she could try her wings and be someone else.
Grabbing the phone, she drew in a deep breath and said, “All right. Yes.” The moment the words were out, she felt her knees give out and she sank onto the nearest chair.
“Yes, you’ll come?” Jack Kincaid asked slowly.
Corie drew in a deep breath. It had to be easier to say the second time. “Yes. I’ll catch the seven-fifteen flight on Wednesday.”
“That’s great. I’ll meet you at the airport in the baggage claim area. I’m going to bring a friend with me. You won’t be able to miss him. He has very odd taste in clothes.”
Clothes! Corie’s eyes widened. If she was going to be someone totally different, she was going to need some new ones. And her hair—it was going to need some work too. “I just have one request. You said you’d do anything to help me make this decision.”
“Yes?”
“Before I make contact with…Mr. Lewis, I’d like a makeover.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “A makeover?”
“Yes.”