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“As rich as Croesus, Mellie, not Crustus. And it’s not good manners to talk about someone else’s money.” Valetta’s swift warning glance told Lincoln that Mellie was ignorant of her mother’s share in that wealth. His faint nod told her that he understood.
“Well, okay. But since Croesus was a king, does that make my aunt a queen? Because I would like to be a princess,” Mellie declared, as she opened a huge box of crayons. “Would that make me a princess?”
Lincoln liked how Mellie ignored the correction for the importance of the idea. “She’s definitely not a queen!” His lips twitched, but outright laughter would not do, he knew. He was saved by a young man with purple hair and an earring arriving at their booth with a basket of rolls and silverware.
“’Evening, Mrs. Faraday, Mellie. Sir.” Carefully, the boy set the bread on the table. “Look out, Mellie, here comes your knife and fork.”
Valetta shifted her daughter’s coloring book although Mellie held fast to her precious box of crayons. “Good evening, Cory. This is Mr. Cameron, an old family friend. He’ll be joining us for dinner.”
“I figured,” Cory said, as he laid the table for three. “Glad to meet you, sir.” Solemnly, he took their order, although since there was only one dinner special on any given night, the choice was only out of politeness. Everyone in Longacre knew this. The real choice lay in what to drink. Mellie asked for a cherry Coke and Valetta ordered an iced tea, no sugar. The young man waited patiently for Lincoln to decide, not surprised when he, too, opted for the iced tea.
“Sorry for the invasion of your privacy,” Valetta said to Lincoln as Cory walked back toward the kitchen. “I thought I had better explain who you were before the rumors started. Everyone Cory serves tonight is going to ask.”
Lincoln was amused. “Do you think that calling me an old family friend is sufficient to stop rumors from spreading?”
“Not really.” Valetta smiled faintly. “It will be interesting to see who everyone decides you are, by the end of the night. It’s like that child’s game, Telephone.”
“Oh, I love that game!” Mellie said, absorbing every word the adults spoke even as she colored a page of monkeys pink.
“I know you do, sweetie. Do you remember how to play, Lincoln? You whisper a sentence in the first person’s ear and send it down the line until the last person repeats the sentence aloud—usually a totally garbled mess and complete corruption of the original.”
“Something like my job,” he said with a faint smile.
“Well, yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” Valetta agreed, unable to resist a small chuckle.
“Why? What do you do, Mr. Cameron?” Mellie wanted to know, all ears, although she continued her coloring.
“I’m a newspaper reporter.”
“Like my mom?”
“Something like, or so I’ve heard. Alexis did tell me a little of what you’ve been up to,” he said, answering Valetta’s curious look.
Valetta shook her head, her white hair waving. “Don’t let him fool you, Mellie. Mr. Cameron is a whole lot more than a reporter. Mr. Cameron runs the L.A. Connection, a really big newspaper out in California. He’s the editor in chief.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t do the actual reporting, anymore, but I used to.”
Mellie was confused. “Then what do you do?”
“The easy part. I boss the reporters around and go to luncheons and parties and accept awards,” Lincoln explained. “Hey, that can be work, too.” He laughed.
“Parties aren’t work,” Mellie said, disbelieving.
“I suppose that the parties you go to aren’t, but the kind of parties I attend can sometimes be a good deal of labor.”
Amazed, Mellie shook her head. “Maybe you should come to some of ours. My mom and I have great parties, especially pajama parties. They’re the best. My mom bakes brownies and lets me and my friends build tents in the living room and stay up as late as we want, while she goes to sleep.”
“I would be honored.”
“Oh, but I forgot. You can’t. They’re for girls only.”
“Ah, well, another time, perhaps. When your parents have a grown-up party.”
“We don’t have that kind. I don’t have a father,” Mellie solemnly confided.
Now it was Lincoln’s turn to be shocked, a fact which did not pass the young girl by. “If you’re my mom’s friend, how come you don’t know that?”
“A very good question,” Lincoln answered cautiously. “I guess your aunt Alexis neglected to tell me.”
“Oh. Well, my dad’s name was Jack Faraday and he was a doctor and he died before I was born,” the little girl offered, proud to impart such grown-up information.
Although his gentle words were directed at Mellie, Lincoln’s eyes fastened on Valetta. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I didn’t know him,” Mellie confessed. “He died in a car accident. That’s why my mom has white hair. The minute he died, her hair turned white, and nobody knows why,” she said with a dramatic shake of her head, “not even the doctors.”
Lincoln looked at Valetta’s silky white hair with something akin to sorrow. “It used to be a reddish- brown, a sort of coppery color, right?”
Uncomfortable under such scrutiny, Valetta would have liked to change the conversation, but Mellie was oblivious. “Yup! Just like mine,” she said proudly. “But she’s still pretty, don’t you think?”
Lincoln looked directly into Valetta’s gray eyes. “I have always thought so,” he said quietly.
Blushing profusely, Valetta fumbled with the bread basket. “Lincoln, would you like a roll? They’re fresh. Jerome bakes them every afternoon.”
Valetta’s voice was a low plea to change the topic and Lincoln nodded as he reached for the bread basket. He had so many questions, now that he realized how much Alexis had not told him, and he would have answers. But it didn’t have to be right then.
Mulligan Stew was not his usual fare, but as Cory arrived with their plates, Lincoln decided that if it was hot, he wouldn’t complain. Cautiously, he lifted his fork. “This looks pretty good,” he said politely.
“Everyone says that Jerome is the best cook in Longacre,” Mellie confided, setting aside her coloring book.
“That’s because he’s the only cook in Longacre.” Valetta smiled as she speared a green pea.
“No, Mom, there’s Randy’s Café. Did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget, Mellie, but with Randy’s leg broken in two places, who knows when she’ll reopen. Ordinarily, she takes the burden off Jerome serving all these people,” Valetta explained to Lincoln. “Unfortunately, she fell last month, sledding with her youngest.”
“And me! I was there, too!” Mellie said importantly. “I saw the whole thing and ran for help. She didn’t even cry! I would have cried,” she confided.
“Well, Jerome Crater’s Mulligan Stew suits me just fine,” Lincoln said over another forkful of beef. “This really is good, in fact, it’s terrific! And I haven’t had a Parker House roll in years. And here he was, talking as if he were some local yokel short-order cook. This meal makes him a chef, as far as I’m concerned. Now that I think about it, I wonder if he was making fun of me!”
“When was this?”
“When I arrived, this afternoon.”
Valetta was amused. “Did you treat him like a local yokel? Because if you did—”
“I did nothing of the kind!” Lincoln said indignantly.
But privately, Valetta thought that could happen without Lincoln intending it. The way he talked, the way he held himself, the expensive clothes probably purchased on Rodeo Drive, perhaps even in Italy. Valetta glanced across the table at the fine silk of his shirt. Yes, definitely handmade in Italy. It all bespoke a lifestyle that was alien to this small town.
And speaking of small towns, what was Lincoln doing in hers?
Chapter Four
“That was a terrific birthday cake Jerome baked for you, last night. Mr. Crater is something of a chef.”
Having spent a truly uncomfortable night on Valetta’s couch, Lincoln thought his effort at civility the next morning, as he sat at Valetta’s kitchen table, was commendable. He just wished she thought so. Busy at the stove scrambling eggs, her muffled agreement was almost inaudible. He was undeterred. Awaiting his breakfast, he thought hard and fast, determined to break through her wall.
“And so many candles! What an old lady you are,” he teased. “Thirty, was it? Good grief, where does the time go?”
The sour look Valetta sent Linc only made him smile. “And Castor and Pollux—I mean, your friends, Ben and Andy—they seem like nice young men. And that Patty, I’ll bet she’s a real ball of fire.”
“Hmm.” Valetta ignored him for the flurried entrance of her daughter accompanied by her yellow dog and two black cats Linc hadn’t noticed until that moment. Someone here likes animals, Lincoln thought, smiling at the birdcage tucked safely in the corner of the kitchen.
“Here’s your lunch box, Mellie,” he heard Valetta say as Mellie mumbled a sleepy good morning. “And here are your eggs. Toast is coming up in one minute.”
Reaching for the salt shaker, Mellie glowered.
“Good morning,” Lincoln greeted the little girl’s chary stare. He guessed he would have felt the same way. It was one thing to meet and greet a stranger in a restaurant, but when said stranger turned up at your kitchen table the next morning…
Her first words proved him right. “How long are you staying?”
A good question. “A day or two, at most. I have business to discuss with your mother.”
“Don’t you like it here?” Mellie asked, switching gears abruptly.
“I do like it here, very much. It’s very pretty, what little I’ve seen of Longacre. But I miss my own home, and my job, and they’re both back in California. Have you ever been—”
“And guess what? I have one, too,” Valetta said as she set a plate of toast on the table with a sharp clatter. She would not have Linc prying into their lives. Just because she was polite enough to offer him a place to stay did not give him special rights. “So enough talk. Pay attention to your breakfast, Mellie. You still have your chores to attend to, don’t forget. I’ll go get my things, and while I’m at it,” she added, sending Lincoln a heated look, “I’ll try to figure out a good time for us to talk.”
“Chores?” Lincoln repeated as he watched Valetta leave the kitchen.
Mellie’s face was a picture of long-suffering. “Change the cat water, fill their bowls with dry food, and refill the birdseed cup.”
Lincoln glanced at the menagerie waiting patiently for their mistress. “May I help?”
“Better not,” Mellie said, as she munched her toast. “Mom might get mad. She has this thing about being responsible.” Finishing her toast, Mellie pushed back her chair and dashed to the cupboard where a big bag of cat kibble was stored, next to an even bigger bag of dog food. Carefully, she filled the animal bowls and put away the bags. Just as carefully, she scraped her plate and stored it in the dishwasher. That done, she solemnly informed Lincoln that she had to brush her teeth. Lincoln nodded into the air because she was already gone, passing her mother in the hall.
“Well, Linc,” Valetta said, returning with her coat, “how are you going to spend the day? You’re welcome to stay here, of course,” she added, halfheartedly.
Your enthusiasm is overwhelming, Lincoln thought, amused at the uncertainty in her voice. “Alexis told me a little about your newspaper—she’s very proud of your accomplishment. I would like to be able to tell her about it, firsthand….” If Valetta didn’t believe him—and she didn’t look as though she did—a little honey might go further than the vinegar of truth. “I’d love to get a close-up look for my own sake, too. If you didn’t mind, of course.”
Valetta most certainly did mind! No way was she going to spend the day with Lincoln Cameron peering over her shoulder. “Um…not a good idea,” she said quickly. “Your big name…you would probably make everyone nervous,” she added lamely.
Mostly you, Lincoln guessed. “You know, of course, that I am supremely qualified to help out.”
“Too qualified,” Valetta said, sending him a curious smile.
Linc shrugged. “It is what I do. You can’t fault me for that.”
“Your first love, your only love, I remember you used to say. Are you married, Linc? I didn’t even think to ask. A wife and kids in your life?”
“Unmarried, no kids,” Lincoln said briskly.
For the first time since Lincoln had arrived in Longacre, Valetta sensed a trace of discomfort in his voice. Even his smile seemed a bit forced, sort of lopsided. The look on his face suggested that she was now prying, so she did not press the issue.
“Linc, obviously I can’t speak to you now. I have to get Mellie off to school, and then I must get to work. I have a deadline to meet. Let’s plan to sit down this evening, after Mellie has gone to bed. Well, after dinner, her homework, a quick game of Scrabble and her bubble bath.” She smiled helplessly. “Last night…my birthday party… Sorry, but we’re a bit off schedule. If I had known you were coming…”
“Don’t worry, if I have to stay the extra day or two, it’s no big deal.”
“I wouldn’t dream of holding you up.”
Lincoln smiled. After years surrounded by sycophants, Valetta’s honesty was refreshing. Why then, did he feel sad? “I get the picture, Vallie.” He grew sadder still, when she winced at his use of her old nickname. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I never doubted it.” Her reply came hard on the heels of Mellie’s return, her coat buttoned unevenly, her hat crooked, her red scarf trailing on the floor. A little girl in definite need of help. “Oh, Mellie!”
“Allow me,” Lincoln offered, surprising them both. Kneeling before Mellie, he made short shrift of the coat buttons, straightened her hat and knotted her scarf. Rocking back on his heels, he noticed Valetta staring. “For goodness sake, Vallie, I do know how to button a coat!”
Her throat dry, Valetta nodded. Feeling mischievous, Lincoln strolled to her side, took hold of her parka and politely held it up. But when he tried to do up her buttons, Valetta quickly stepped back. “Thanks,” she smiled drily, “but I’m pretty sure I can manage.”
Lincoln opened the front door with a smile of his own. “Have a good day, then, ladies. I’ll be waiting here when you get home.”
Valetta followed Mellie out into the snow and climbed into her battered truck, wondering what had just happened. But her wayward thoughts were forgotten listening to her truck screech as she tried to start it up. She had to turn it over three times before the engine caught, and then she had to warm it up a full five minutes before she dared to drive. Disgusted, she made a mental note to check out the automotive ads in next Sunday’s paper. Enough was enough! The last time she had needed a car, Jack had materialized with this monster, but she always thought she would like to own something a little more mommy friendly and less of a gas guzzler, perhaps a Honda CRV. And while she was at it, she might even treat herself to a paved driveway, next summer. One you could really shovel clean in winter and that didn’t boast rivulets of mud when the April sun finally melted the snow.
Listening to Mellie chatter as they drove into town, Valetta’s list grew. Okay, so maybe it was time to get in a plumber to fix that leaky shower. And while she was at it, perhaps she should get Rico Suarez to finish painting the living room. As for that layer of dust…
Hey, Lincoln Cameron appears on the scene and suddenly she sees dust balls in every corner and wants to repave the driveway? Why was she worried about what he would think? He was only staying a day or two, until they had a chance to talk about whatever it was that brought him here.
Alexis sent him, no question! Her sister was trying to interfere with her life again. The last time, two years before, she had invited Mellie to come visit. It was summer vacation; Alexis would take her to Disneyland. Not trusting her sister, Valetta had politely declined. All she had to do was recall the time Alexis had offered to send Mellie to boarding school if they would only move back West… Alexis arguing that a girl with Mellie’s background—and future—should have only the best. Valetta had laughed, but it hadn’t taken long before they were enmeshed in another full-blown squabble. They didn’t talk for at least a year after that little skirmish! Their relationship was colored with many such eruptions, but Valetta wanted Mellie’s childhood to remain untainted by her birthright, which, as far as she was concerned, Mellie was going to be kept ignorant of for as long as possible.
But Alexis wanted Mellie. That was the crux of the matter, as Valetta saw it. With no children of her own, her sister was scheming to get her hands on Valetta’s daughter. No doubt Alexis wanted to groom the heir to the Keane Empire, but Valetta was determined to keep Mellie’s childhood simple. Foolish Alexis, sending Lincoln Cameron to do her dirty work! Well, he was welcome to try, but Valetta was wise to their tricks. Tonight, after Mellie was sleeping, she would hear Lincoln out, smile politely and send him on his way.
Lincoln stood at the window and watched as Valetta and Mellie drove off. He stood even longer, in a brown study as he watched the gathering clouds. Scanning the leaden, gray sky, he guessed it was going to snow. Although the ground was an icy patch of white, he didn’t think he had actually seen a snowfall in some years. True, he was a sportsman, but his idea of fun was lying on a lounge chair by a pool, after a rough game of tennis. Skiing wasn’t high on his list—hell, it wasn’t even on his list!—unless it was over blue water. Alexis liked to say it addressed his holier-than-thou desire to walk on water. Nevertheless, he shied away from the Alps and had never even been to Switzerland, except to dine—once—in Zurich, on business.
Still, as he scanned the woods just beyond the narrow driveway, Lincoln allowed that it might not be such a bad thing to spend some time in New England. It might even be rather quaint to sip some cocoa and watch—from the safety of Valetta’s snug little house, of course—the lacy, fat snowflakes catch in the tall pines or drift down to turn the lumpy, brown ground into a smooth, white blanket. Mellie probably adored the snow. Cute kid. No doubt she owned at least a half a dozen sleds, and he’d bet his last dollar Vallie was a pretty mean sledder, herself.
Vallie. She’d winced when he called her that. She probably hated to be reminded that she had any past beyond Longacre, much less one that included him. But she did, and he would claim it, even in the simple calling of her name.
And damned if she didn’t have a past he was ignorant of!
A child!
A husband. Dead for years, if he understood Mellie correctly, in a terrible accident. But even so.
And Alexis had never said a word! Not a single blessed word in all the years Valetta had been gone— not a word about Valetta’s marriage or the birth of her child, much less the death of her husband. How could Alexis have allowed her own sister to have borne such grief alone? As coldhearted as Lincoln could be, he would never have been so callous. He would have flown to her side, had he known.
And to allow Valetta to live in such squalor, he mused, as he studied the shabby kitchen while Mellie’s cats jumped up on the counter and studied him. Well, not precisely squalor, Lincoln chided himself with a short laugh. But there was no hiding the fact that the once-rustic oak kitchen cabinets were battered, that the Formica table where they had shared their morning coffee was badly chipped, and the shiny vinyl-covered chairs were dull from overuse. And a certain little girl seemed very capable of adding to the disorder, if the crayons, coloring books, sticky tape and glitter bottles strewn across the kitchen counter were any indication. Beyond that, though, he had to admit that the place did seem clean. The appliances might be dented but they did shine. And if the floor tiles were faded, nonetheless they seemed to have been recently waxed. No doubt kids were messy, he thought, as he left the kitchen, amused when Mellie’s dog, Yellow, followed on his heels. Okay, you mangy dog, he thought with a smile. We can be friends for today. But you really do need a bath.
