Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead (4 page)

He was the one to stiffen and lift his head. Only belatedly did
Madison realize she’d heard the scrape of furniture on the floor behind them.
Oh, heavens—she sneaked a peek to see that a waiter was upending chairs and
putting them on tables. He very tactfully had his back to them as he worked, but
he must have seen them kissing.

Troy gently kissed her again then eased her away. He was
smiling, but the heated glow in his eyes told her he hadn’t liked having to let
her go any better than she did. “Didn’t mean to get so carried away,” he
said.

“It’s probably just as well we were interrupted.” Madison
wasn’t sure she meant it. “I’m usually, um, a little more cautious than
that.”

His hands momentarily tightened on her arms. The next moment he
loosened them very deliberately. With a nudge he started her between tables
toward the top of the staircase. “I don’t suppose you have a lot of spare time
the next few days.”

“You think?”

“I’m meeting with your head of security tomorrow. Can we have
coffee if I stop by your office afterward?”

Madison discovered she hated the idea of not seeing him at all
tomorrow. “Yes. If we can make it iced coffee. It’s supposed to top a hundred
tomorrow.”

His hand moved in a gentle circle on her back. “Far as I’m
concerned, we can go sit in the shade and do nothing but hold hands.”

This feeling, as if champagne bubbles were popping in her
bloodstream, was an entirely new sensation for her. “That works, too,” she
admitted and made sure she had her hand on the railing as she began to descend
the stairs. Her legs still weren’t quite steady.

By the way he hovered, Madison felt fairly certain Troy
wouldn’t let her fall. Modern woman that she was, she ought to be disgusted to
discover she felt reassured and even...cherished.

Knowing he couldn’t see her face, she frowned. Wow. Getting
swept away like this might make her giddy, but it was more than a little scary,
too.

So what?
she thought with an
unaccustomed feeling of boldness, already looking forward to tomorrow. In her
opinion, she was past due to take some risks.

CHAPTER THREE

“I
SAW
A
PICTURE
of your dad,” Madison
said.

Troy made a lazy sound in his throat that she took as an
inquiry.

He lounged next to her on a stone bench in the shade beside the
duck pond, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The shade
wasn’t doing an awful lot of good. Leaves hung limply. Even the usually
aggressive ducks hadn’t stirred themselves to beg for handouts. Conversation had
been desultory at best. Each of them had been sipping at the iced coffees he’d
brought, as promised.

“I studied some of the reunion photos,” she explained. “Putting
faces to names. Think how impressed they’ll be if I recognize some of them as
they arrive.”

Troy turned his head and smiled at her. “I’d be impressed.”

She sighed. “Of course, the last reunion of our fathers’ class
was five years ago. Everyone has probably gained weight or lost hair or
something. I probably won’t recognize a one of them.”

“Dad was definitely losing his hair.”

She’d noticed. This morning, Madison had squinted for some time
at her computer monitor. Eventually she’d zoomed in on the faces that interested
her, including Joseph Troyer’s. His hairline had undeniably receded. What hair
he had left was graying, but she thought he’d been blond. At the time the
picture was snapped, he was still a solid, well-built man.

“He looked like you.”

“More accurate to say I look like him.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” She hesitated. “Your mother was in
the picture, too.”

He grunted, looking uninterested. “What about your dad? Was he
there?”

“No. He’s never bothered with a reunion.” He’d come to her
graduation from Wakefield, but she had a feeling that might have been the only
time he’d returned to Frenchman Lake since his own graduation day. She hadn’t
visited the campus prior to applying to Wakefield College. Moving-in day still
stuck in her mind. Most of the incoming freshmen had arrived with parents who
helped settle them into their dorm rooms. Her father hadn’t seen any reason she
needed him. He had seemed surprised when she timidly asked whether he intended
to bring her. She had a car, after all, and would surely want it, he’d pointed
out.

Troy was watching her now. “You close to him?” he asked.

“Yes and no.” She shrugged as if the subject wasn’t a sensitive
one. “I mostly lived with him after my parents divorced. But he’s not what you’d
call warm and fuzzy.”

Troy’s arm had been lying along the back of the bench behind
her. Now his big hand gently squeezed her shoulder. “Your choice to live with
him?”

“Yes.” She gazed ahead, where a mallard duck dived midpond.
“Mom remarried right away and started another family. I felt like the square
peg. It was probably my fault more than hers.” She’d said that so many times,
she almost believed it.

“You see much of her?”

“Very occasionally. I hardly know my half sister and
brother.”

“Hmm.”

She chuckled to relieve some of her tension. “You sound like a
therapist.”

“I’m lacking the goatee to stroke.”

“So you are.” She liked the way his hand kept kneading her
shoulder. She wasn’t nestled close to him, both because this was, after all, her
workplace, but mostly because sweat would probably have glued them together if
they dared get too close. She’d have been tempted to plunge into the pond with
the lone mallard had the water not been so murky. “All roads seem to lead back
to our parents,” she commented.

The skin beside his eyes crinkled. “Then let’s talk about
something else.”

“Did I mention the golf course manager informs me I don’t have
the tee times I thought I did? We may edge the lunch back so the golfers have a
chance to finish their rounds.”

“Glad to hear that. I’ll be starved by the time I beat my way
out of the rough.”

Madison laughed. “The caterer for the reception failed to
locate the quality of asparagus she wanted and for some reason that made her
rethink several of the hors d’oeuvres, even ones that have nothing to do with
asparagus. I’ve gotten calls from half a dozen alumni who are miffed because
they didn’t make reservations soon enough and now they’re going to have to stay
at a hotel not up to their standards. Oh, and the president’s wife is coming
down with a cold.”

“Is it possible to get a cold when it’s this hot?” Troy peeled
his polo shirt away from his body. “I’ll bet she could bake the virus crispy
dead if she played eighteen holes midday.”

Madison muffled a laugh. “I’ll be sure to suggest that.” She
took the last slurp of her drink and sighed. “I ought to get back to work.”

His fingers circled the ball of her shoulder one more time.
“Sounds like you have everything in hand.”

“Knock on wood.” She glanced at the iron bench. “Oops.”

He rose to his feet and looked down at her. “Tomorrow’s the big
day.”

“Yes. You’ll be at the reception at the president’s house?” She
knew he was skipping the wine-tasting tour, as was she.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiled at her. “I’m looking forward to
seeing you in action.”

“Hiding panic at every glitch, you mean.”

“I seriously doubt that. You’re too well organized to permit
glitches.”

Pleased by his faith and by the fact that he seemed to be more
than okay with the idea of her being really good at her job, she said goodbye
and parted from him. She couldn’t resist the temptation to turn and watch him
stride away. Although he clearly wasn’t in any hurry, he moved purposefully and
his head turned to take in his surroundings. It wouldn’t be easy to take him by
surprise. Probably that was characteristic of cops.

Walking back to Mem, Madison speculated on what it would be
like to be involved with someone in law enforcement. Did he talk about his job?
He hadn’t so far, but then she hadn’t asked. Would he be moody when he came home
after seeing awful things? Had he ever shot anyone? She’d read that cops had a
high divorce rate and a high rate of alcoholism, too. Troy had made a point out
of mentioning that he wasn’t a drinker. The subject of previous marriages hadn’t
yet arisen. At his age, it was entirely possible he had a divorce behind him,
she thought, not liking the idea.

Reality check. They’d had one date. One coffee break. She was
getting way ahead of herself.

Still, as the afternoon went on she found herself thinking
about both Troy and, perhaps inevitably, their respective fathers. How well had
the two known each other? They had surely been in a number of classes together.
She realized that it bothered her more than ever how little she knew about her
father’s years here. Why it mattered she couldn’t have said, but it felt weird
that he would have known all the alumni arriving tomorrow. Chances were that
there were former friends of his among them, even girlfriends. Madison’s last
name was uncommon, so someone might make the connection. She hated to have to
say, “Gee, no, Dad never mentioned you.”

She gave serious thought that evening to calling him, but he
was in Tokyo and she had no idea what the time difference was. He was
undoubtedly asleep in his hotel room during her waking hours. He’d be irritated
if she happened to get him awake but when he was doing business, which included
all meals. And...what would he say, anyway?

She could hear him irritably admitting he knew Joseph Troyer.
What did he end up as?
He would grunt when she
told him.
A small-town banker sounds about right. No
ambition.
Her father did condescension very well.

Why,
she asked herself,
do I even
want
to call my
father?

As always, she was embarrassed by the answer.

Because he’s all I have.

* * *

T
ROY
HAD
BEGUN
to think he wouldn’t
like either of Madison’s parents. He doubted she had any idea how much she’d
given away when she was talking about her mother. It had been enough to make him
hurt for the little girl she’d been. Or had she been older? A teenager, maybe?
He would have to ask.

He’d reserve judgment where the dad was concerned. Somebody had
to have done something right, or Madison wouldn’t be the woman she was. Did an
unhappy child ever learn to smile with unalloyed delight the way she did?

Troy put in a few hours at his desk at the station, finishing
up reports and making phone calls, but she stayed on his mind. She’d been there
since he first set eyes on her, and he wished like hell they were having dinner
again tonight. He didn’t like knowing they wouldn’t be able to do more than
exchange a few words at the crowded reception tomorrow night, either.

Patience,
he told himself. Madison
wouldn’t always be as busy as she was this weekend. He should be glad to have
the chance to watch her at work. He’d learn more about her that way than he
would on a dozen dinner dates.

Not a day passed that he didn’t wish his father was still
alive. The need to talk to Dad was even fiercer than usual right now. Driving
home, Troy thought about everything he wished he could ask. He was curious what
his father thought about these classmates, starting with Guy Laclaire. He’d have
liked Dad to meet Madison. And he was bugged that he hadn’t pushed harder when
Dad said so little about the long-ago murder.

Damn it, had he really not known Mitchell King very well? For
some reason Troy kept thinking back to their conversation. He hadn’t felt
dissatisfaction then, but he suspected now that Dad had been holding back. It
would be like him to be reticent if, say, he hadn’t liked King. Troy’s easygoing
father never wanted to admit he didn’t like someone.

Troy grabbed fast-food meals more often than he should, but
tonight he made the decision to stop at the grocery store—air-conditioned, thank
God—and then grill a steak and make a salad once he got home. He cleaned the
kitchen then called his mother, as he did a lot of nights when he wasn’t
stopping by the house to make sure she was all right.

But he dreaded these phone calls.

This conversation was typical.

He asked how she was.

“Fine.” She sounded vaguely surprised he’d asked. “Just
fine.”

Of course she was fine. She’d never admit to anything else even
when he heard tears in her voice.

Had she gone anywhere today? Why no, but she’d had to water all
the plants on the patio, you know, and that took forever.

Oh, the time capsule was being opened this weekend? Goodness,
she’d forgotten all about it.

She didn’t want to talk about it any more than she had the last
time he mentioned the weekend activities.

Troy could never pin her down. There was a lot she didn’t want
to talk about, including how she felt or the fact that she scarcely left the
house. The weight she’d lost since Dad died wasn’t open to discussion. Sometimes
he wasn’t sure she’d notice if he quit calling altogether. For a while there,
he’d been doing her grocery shopping, but once she discovered one of the stores
delivered, she’d opted into the service. Mainly, Troy suspected, so he couldn’t
critique what—or how little—she ate.

And, hell, maybe he wasn’t handling her grief well. Probably
because he was male, he’d always been closer to Dad than he was to her. Whether
Mom might have found it more acceptable to lean on a daughter than a son, he
didn’t know. What he did know was that he was all she had, whether she liked it
or not.

There were days he wanted to give up, but he knew he’d never
let himself. He understood his mother’s devastation. She and Dad hadn’t spent a
night apart from their wedding day on. They’d had the kind of marriage he
wanted. The love between his parents had been so palpable, he’d sometimes been
embarrassed by it when he was a kid. Nobody else’s parents looked at each other
the way his mom and dad did. He’d never been able to imagine one of them without
the other. None of them had expected something so sudden and shocking. There
wasn’t even time to say goodbye.

And yeah, there was a secret part of him that resented her
determination to make the grief exclusive to her. She didn’t want to hear that
he hurt, too.

Troy had no trouble imagining her stare of complete
incomprehension if he tried to say, “I feel like I’ve lost my mother, too.”

He gave brief thought to saying,
I met a
woman who is special,
but if that didn’t get a rise he didn’t want to
feel the disappointment. It was too soon anyway, he told himself. He hardly knew
Madison Laclaire.

Although, damn, he did like what he knew.

* * *

A
STEADY
STREAM
of alumni arrived
from early Friday morning on to pick up the schedule of events that included a
map of the wineries on this afternoon’s tour and directions to the golf course
that hadn’t existed when they were students here. Madison had had tables set up
beneath the trees outside Mem, one for check-in and the other holding a coffee
urn and pitchers of lemonade. The day’s heat was already making itself felt, but
the huge old trees and the velvet green lawn, still slightly damp from last
night’s sprinklers, at least gave an illusion of cool.

Senator Haywood was an early arrival. Rather than tasting wine,
he would be speaking to an upper level political science class that afternoon,
in addition to giving a second, open lecture this evening after the reception.
Madison had no trouble recognizing him since she’d looked up current images
online.

Silver at the temples and an overall dusting of silver set off
his styled dark hair. He had a charming smile she couldn’t help returning.

He shook her hand, his eyes keen on her face. “You wouldn’t be
Guy Laclaire’s daughter?”