An Honorable Man Page 7

  Coleman sat down on the love seat that matched the sofa. The only empty seat in the room was next to him. Sierra poured herself a glass of iced tea and took the space beside Coleman, dismayed to discover she was directly facing Chad.

  “Since Sierra’s here, let’s start by talking about the renaming of the park,” Sara suggested. “We’re having a special signpost erected. Chad suggested we include an engraved image of a man stretching out his hand in addition to information about Dr. Whitmore.”

  “When I think of your father, I think of a helping hand.” Chad addressed his comment to Sierra. She didn’t doubt its sincerity. Her father had been instrumental in getting Chad his job at the drugstore pharmacy.

  “I didn’t know Dr. Whitmore, but I have an idea,” Jill Jacobi piped up. “If the dedication ceremony is after the parade on Sunday, we’d be guaranteed a crowd. That way, it’d be a fitting tribute.”

  “Excellent idea,” Coleman said. “The more people who are there, the better.”

  Sierra turned sharply to gaze at him, expecting to find a smirk playing about his mouth. It wasn’t there. “Do you mean that?”

  “Of course I do.” Coleman didn’t seem to give the answer any thought. He even looked and sounded sincere.

  “Quincy was the one who suggested we rename the park for your father,” Chad elaborated. “He said it was past time we honored him for his civic work, and we all agreed.”

  Sierra’s mind reeled, trying to process the ramifications of the revelation as the committee moved on to potential parking problems, sponsorships and finally publicity. She barely got her composure back in time to ask when a banner advertising the festival would be stretched across Main Street.

  “Would you believe we hadn’t thought of that?” Coleman put a hand to his gray head. “First day on the committee and you’re already contributing. We’re working with Porter’s Printing. I’ll get right on it.”

  The meeting took the better part of two hours, with the group agreeing to reconvene on Thursday, the day before the festival began.

  “Eat some of this food before you go,” Coleman urged. “It’s way too much for the wife and me.”

  The other committee members rose and headed to the table where the food was set out. Quincy Coleman didn’t budge.

  “Could I speak with you a moment, Sierra?” he asked in a soft voice before she could rise.

  She didn’t reply, but gave him her attention.

  “Considering your father and I weren’t friends, you were probably surprised it was my suggestion to honor him,” he said so only she could hear. “I’m not proud of the way I treated him when he was alive. I can’t make it up to him now that he’s gone, but I thought this would help his memory live on.”

  “Then you didn’t send that e-mail?”

  His brow furrowed. “What e-mail?”

  “The one to the newspaper reporter?”

  He continued to look at her blankly. “You mean about the festival? I don’t do e-mail. I call people on the phone.”

  “Oh. Right.” She bit her lip while she regarded him, then nodded her head and rose. “Well, thank you for what you said.”

  She gathered her composure and crossed the room to the table of food where Sara talked with Laurie Grieb.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she overheard Sara ask Laurie as she approached.

  “I’m great,” Laurie announced, although she didn’t look very good. Her skin was pale and the faintest trace of perspiration glistened above her upper lip. “I just need to go, is all. You know that Kenny of mine. Since we got back together, he can barely stand to be away from me.”

  She pivoted and started to walk almost into Sierra. “Sorry.”

  Laurie kept going, making a quick exit. The attorney watched her go, a concerned expression clouding her features. “You’re a doctor,” she said to Sierra. “Did she look okay to you?”

  “It’s hard to tell from a glance. Why? I heard Laurie say she was fine.”

  “She’s just seemed…off lately.” Sara waved a hand. “I’m probably worrying for nothing. So tell me, is being on the planning committee everything Annie cracked it up to be? She needed somebody to take her place so badly she said she was going to exaggerate.”

  “I think it’ll be fun.” Sierra was surprised to realize she was telling the truth. She pulled the business card for her friend’s bridal boutique out of the pocket of her pants and handed it to the bride-to-be. “Before I forget, here’s that information on my friend’s boutique. She has a wonderful selection. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

  “Cool.” Sara examined the card. “Oh, great. She’s open on Wednesdays until nine o’clock. Annie says I need to get a dress ASAP. If she can go to Harrisburg after she gets off the river on Wednesday, maybe you could come with us.”

  “Me?” Sierra pointed to her chest and felt her jaw drop. “Why would you want me to come?”

  “The wedding dress you helped Annie pick out was gorgeous. She says you instantly knew what would look good and what wouldn’t.”

  Sierra had gotten addicted to quality clothing in her teen years when she’d briefly done some modeling, but her classic fashion sense hardly matched Sara’s sense of style.

  “Are you sure?” She surveyed the other woman’s lime-green pants and matching short-sleeved jacket, which she carried off with her trademark flair. “You don’t seem to have any problem looking terrific.”

  “What a nice thing to say.” Sara stabbed a cube of cheddar cheese with a toothpick. “But you can’t talk me out of enlisting all the help I can get. This girl’s only getting married once.”

  “If you’re sure…” Sierra said.

  “I’m sure. I’ll get back to you with a time.” The lawyer popped the piece of cheese in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, then grinned. “Thanks for letting me rope you in.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sierra noticed Chad disengaging himself from a group that now included Quincy Coleman. He was coming around the table and heading straight for her.

  “I’ve got to be going,” she told Sara.

  The heels of her shoes tapped against the tile of the foyer as she hurried for the door while trying to keep up the illusion that she wasn’t rushing.

  “Sierra, wait!” Chad’s voice trailed her.

  She considered pretending she hadn’t heard him, then imagined him chasing her down on the manicured front lawn. Resigned, she pasted on a smile and pivoted.

  “I’m glad I caught you.” He sounded slightly out of breath. “I couldn’t let you leave before I told you what a welcome addition you are to the committee. You had some great suggestions.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  She knew him well enough to recognize that his sharp intake of breath and pursed lips meant she’d hit the mark. “Of course I’m not surprised.”

  “Then thank you.” She turned from him and resumed her exit, letting herself out of the house through the mahogany door with the stained-glass insets.

  Chad fell in to step beside her. It seemed appropriate the sun took that moment to duck behind a cloud.

  “How are you?” He posed the question he hadn’t bothered to ask in the weeks after he’d dumped her.

  “Well.” She kept walking.

  “Anything new going on with you?”

  “Why don’t you just ask me about the man you saw me kissing?”

  She glanced sideways and noted his eyes widened slightly.

  “Okay. Who was he?”

  Sierra could have screamed—at herself. Why had she invited that question? She couldn’t very well inform him Ben Nash was a reporter trying to tie her father to the death of an ill-fated tourist.

  She cleared her throat, desperately trying to form an answer. Her back was to the road, but she was vaguely aware of the sound of a car engine cutting through the quiet of the street.

  “He’s—” Sierra began.

  “Sierra.” A low male voice followed the sound of a car door openi
ng.

  Her head jerked up, her eyes barely able to acknowledge what her ears had already told her. The driver of the car was Ben Nash. If not for him and his questions, she would have found a way to refuse the invitation to join the festival committee. And she wouldn’t be here in this uncomfortable situation with Chad Armstrong.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He wore jeans and a navy blue shirt open at the collar, highlighting the beginnings of his beard, yet he moved with the confidence of a freshly shaven man dressed in a tuxedo.

  He planted a quick kiss on her lips, which were open and slightly agape, then stuck out a hand to Chad. “Ben Nash.”

  Ben’s arrival had snagged Sierra as effectively as if he’d baited her with chocolate, but now she transferred her attention to Chad. His complexion grew even more ashen when he took Ben’s hand.

  “Chad Armstrong.”

  “I hate to shake your hand and run, but Sierra and I have dinner plans.” Ben grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Ready, Sierra?”

  Unable to decide whether she was being rescued or abducted, she struggled not to stammer. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say until she said it. “I’m ready.”

  Ben tugged gently on her hand, putting distance between them and Chad.

  “Good to meet you, Chad,” Ben tossed over his shoulder while he clicked the remote that unlocked the passenger door of his convertible.

  Sierra could either get in the car or explain her relationship with Ben to her ex-boyfriend, which was no choice at all.

  BEN HADN’T EXPECTED anything about his return to Indigo Springs to be pleasant, yet couldn’t suppress the smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

  That was twice in three days he’d been able to help Sierra out of a jam with her ex-boyfriend.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Sierra said after they traveled an entire block, speaking loudly so her voice wasn’t swept away by the wind, “you’d have me believing we actually have a date.”

  “I thought you could use the moral support.” He glanced away from the road at her. She held her hair in place even though the windshield blocked the worst of the breeze. She’d worn red yesterday, but today was dressed in a scoop-necked print blouse in shades of cream and brown that she paired with tan-colored linen pants. Although she looked classically beautiful, he got the impression she was hiding her true personality behind the clothes. “Your sister-in-law told me where to find you.”

  “Annie?” She looked positively mistrustful. “Were you bothering Ryan again?”

  He laughed at her choice of verbs. “I had another question for her father, but he was guiding a trip so I bothered Annie instead.”

  “And she just happened to fill you in on what I was doing today?”

  “That about sums it up,” he said. “She was a lot more talkative when she figured out I was the guy you went out with Friday night.”

  Sierra covered her mouth, making him wonder exactly what had gone on between the two women before he’d met Sierra at the Blue Haven. Whatever it was, Annie had seemed delighted by it.

  “She heard about the kiss, too.” He might as well provide full disclosure. “You know, this town doesn’t seem that small with all the tourist traffic you get. It’s amazing how word gets around.”

  “Does she know you work for a newspaper?”

  “By now, I think everybody does.”

  Her stomach lurched. “Does that mean she knows you’re investigating my father?”

  “Not unless your brother told her,” Ben said. “I don’t need to bring up your father’s name every time I talk to somebody.”

  “Really? Now why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re very distrustful.” He pulled the Sebring to a curb in front of what he’d heard was the best Italian restaurant in town, not that there was much competition.

  “No, seriously.” Now that the car wasn’t moving, it sounded as though Annie had shouted the response. She lowered her voice. “Why should I believe you’d keep my father’s name out of your investigation?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  She’d carefully avoided looking at him during the drive, but now turned to face him, her distrust evident in the depths of her green eyes. “Isn’t my father the reason you’re in Indigo Springs?”

  “I’m here to find out what really happened to Allison Blaine,” he said. “If your father knew her, his name will come up in conversation.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “That’s not how you usually operate, is it?”

  That was putting it mildly. Ben favored the direct approach, whether professionally or personally. He didn’t have the time or the patience for tact when he was chasing a story.

  “No,” he said. “It’s not.”

  A young couple holding hands stopped to read the menu posted in front of Angelo’s before disappearing inside. If Ben grabbed for Sierra’s hand when Chad Armstrong wasn’t around as a witness, she’d almost definitely snatch it back.

  “Then why change now?” she asked.

  He paused to consider the question. He was a skilled enough interviewer that he could find out about Dr. Whitmore in a roundabout manner, yet it would unquestionably slow down his process.

  “Because you want me to,” he said.

  Her mouth dropped open, then closed. She blinked, as though trying to see him more clearly.

  “It only seems fair, then,” he continued with more confidence than he felt, “that you agree to have dinner with me.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  The answer made his break from protocol seem well worth the trouble. So did asking the hostess to seat them at a quiet table away from the general cacophony in the main part of the restaurant. A candle in the center of the table glowed while soft music played. The scents of garlic bread and tomato sauce enveloped them.

  She sipped white wine while they waited for their entrees to be prepared. Her appearance was diametrically opposed to the woman in the tight jeans and low-cut shirt who’d ordered whiskey at the Blue Haven yet neither incarnation seemed quite right.

  “I’m trying to figure out your ulterior motive for asking me to dinner,” she said over the rim of her wineglass.

  “What if I don’t have one? What if I asked you out because I enjoy your company?”

  “Am I supposed to believe that?” she asked, clearly teasing.

  “That’s a strange question coming from a beautiful woman.”

  She tensed, as though she wasn’t used to compliments. His opinion of Chad Armstrong took a deeper nosedive.

  “With those kind of lines,” she said, “you must be quite popular with women.”

  He put his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his hands and smiled at her. “If that’s your way of asking if I have a girlfriend, the answer’s no. I’m completely available.”

  “That wasn’t what I was doing.” She twisted the stem of her wineglass between her fingers before setting down the glass.

  “Why not? It’s the kind of question people ask when they’re on a date.”

  “This isn’t a date,” she denied.

  “Sure, it is. I asked you to dinner. You said yes. That’s a date in my book.”

  “But…” She moved her hand. It bumped her wineglass, tipping it over. Pale liquid spilled over the table.

  He took his cloth napkin from his lap, then reached across the table and dabbed at the spill. A waiter quickly appeared to assist them, mopping up the rest of the wine.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sierra said when the crisis was over. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  “I do,” Ben said. “You got nervous when I said we were on a date. Why is that?”

  “I did not,” she began, then ran a hand over her hair. Even though she was wearing it up instead of in that long sexy free fall, she still looked gorgeous. “Okay, maybe I did. It’s just that I haven’t been on a date with anyone other than Chad in years.”

  “Don’t tell me he was your high school boyfriend.”

/>   “Not exactly, although we did go to the senior prom together. We’d see each other in the summers when we were both home from college, but we didn’t become exclusive until I finished med school.”

  “When you were doing your residency.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Mine was at a hospital in Boston. Chad was finishing up his doctorate in pharmacy at Northeastern. After he graduated, Dad got him the job here in town.”

  “Your father got him his job?” he repeated.

  She bit her lower lip, as though she hadn’t meant to divulge that last piece of information. “Chad probably would have gotten hired on his own. My father just put a good word in for him.”

  Her slipup painted a more vivid picture of her relationship with her ex. The father she’d adored had been on board with her choice of men.

  “It sounds like you didn’t see much of Armstrong until you finished your residency and moved back home,” he said.

  “I guess you could say that,” she said. “Except I haven’t seen much of him these past few years, either.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She stared down at the table before returning her gaze to him. “My dad died a month after I started working for him.”

  “A heart attack, right?” He knew the cause of death from his research on the man. “How did it happen?”

  She seemed to be debating with herself whether to tell him, reminding Ben she didn’t trust him. He wished he could reassure her on that count, but he wasn’t yet convinced her father hadn’t been involved in his mother’s death.

  “He was home alone,” she said woodenly. “By the time my mother found him, he was dead.”

  “No warning signs?”

  “I don’t know. You’d think so, with him being a physician, especially since he’d had a minor heart attack about ten years before he died.” Her eyes took on a sad, faraway look. “Maybe it would have been different if it had happened in the office with people around.”

  “I’m sorry.” He covered her hand with his, striving to convey his sincerity. From everything he’d learned so far, her father had been a saint. Even if he was the devil incarnate, Ben wouldn’t wish the pain of his death on Sierra.