“And if that means moving away? She’s talking about selling her house, you know. Moving to a bigger news market, like Dallas or Atlanta.”
Serena frowned for a moment, then smoothed her expression with a little shrug. “I hadn’t heard that, but I guess it doesn’t really surprise me. There isn’t anything to hold her here now that her father’s gone. There are definitely more prospects for her—career-wise and socially—in a bigger city.”
“Socially?”
“Well, of course. There aren’t that many single men her age around here. I’ve heard her say she’d like to marry someday, start a family—she loves children, you know. Not every woman can be as lucky as I was and find the perfect guy literally lying in her own backyard,” she added with a slight smile.
Dan was still struggling with the image of Lindsey married with children. His first instinct was that she was too young—but then he remembered that she’d just passed her twenty-sixth birthday. Where had the time gone?
He tried to picture her with some of the single men in town—specifically, the two who’d seemed so interested in her at Gaylord’s last night. Jimmy and Bo. Neither of whom were even remotely right for Lindsey. Nor was any other guy who sprang to his mind just then.
Her interview with the fire chief completed, Lindsey closed her notebook while Dan watched. With a little wave to Serena that might have been meant to include Dan, she walked to her car, which she’d parked in a line of others at the curb.
Was she walking differently? Adding a little sway to her hips that hadn’t been there before? Or was he just noticing she walked that way? Maybe it was the boots. Or maybe he was spending too much time focusing on Lindsey when he should be concentrating on his own business, he thought irritably, deliberately turning away. He changed the subject abruptly, suggesting to Serena that they should go talk to Mrs. O’Malley.
Serena immediately agreed, and Dan went back to work—though he felt the questions about Lindsey hovering at the back of his mind, waiting to nag him when he was alone again.
Maybe he did need a vacation.
Edstown wasn’t known for its social opportunities, but there were three events that locals turned out for faithfully—the Independence Day celebration in July, the Fall Festival at the beginning of October and the March Mixer. The origins of the latter had grown fuzzy with time, but the mixer had been held every year since the late 1940s. Now a fund-raiser for the Community League, the event generated revenue for a variety of local charities. Prominent citizens and city leaders—the chief of police among them—couldn’t even consider missing the mixer, and of course Lindsey attended to cover the evening for the newspaper.
Usually she looked forward to the gathering. This year she was tempted to call in sick.
She didn’t, of course. She dressed in one of her new outfits—a form-fitting emerald-green dress with spaghetti straps and a floating asymmetrical hemline. Paired with backless heels, the dress gave an illusion of height that she liked. She needed that little ego boost tonight.
Fluffing her coppery hair around her carefully made-up face, she decided she was as ready as she was going to be. Unfortunately, it was a cold, damp night, making a coat necessary. The closest thing she owned to a dress coat was a lined gray raincoat. Since her only other choices were the leather jacket she wore most days or a puffy parka reserved for really cold weather, she chose the raincoat. She would shed it quickly when she arrived, she decided. Maybe she would shop the after-season sales for a nice coat for next winter—wherever she happened to be by then, she thought with a sigh.
She was slipping out of the raincoat even as she stepped into the brightly lit and colorfully decorated community center. Rows of coat racks served as an informal cloak room. She hung her coat on an empty hook, leaving nothing of value in the pockets, since there would be no attendant. She smiled at the two women sitting at a table strategically placed across the hallway to block the entrance into the ballroom. “You two got ticket duty tonight, hmm?”
“Only for the first hour,” Marjorie Schaffer replied with a smile for her friend Virginia Porter. “We’re taking shifts.”
“Good idea. I’m sure you have impatient dance partners waiting inside.”
Both widowed and in their early sixties, the older women laughed, blushed a little, then took Lindsey’s ticket and urged her to go on in.
Because Lindsey had stalled so long getting ready as she’d tried to work up enthusiasm for the evening, the ballroom was already crowded when she walked in. She estimated that she knew by name at least 75 percent of the people there, and it seemed as though they all tried to greet her at once.
Compliments flew, along with quick barely touching hugs and smacking-air kisses. “You look fabulous!” “Love your hair, dress, earrings, shoes.” “Have you been working out?” Though large, fancy parties weren’t her first choice of entertainment options, Lindsey considered herself pretty good at dealing with them. She could schmooze and mingle like a skilled socialite when necessary.
The same couldn’t be said for all her friends. Though Serena and Cameron looked perfectly at ease, Riley seemed to be in danger of falling asleep at any moment. And Dan, when she spotted him, might as well have been one of the security guards who’d been hired for the evening. His faintly vigilant posture, the politely professional expression on his face, his conservatively cut dark suit—all marked him as a man who was here as part of his job, not because he particularly enjoyed such gatherings.
When he saw her, Riley rather abruptly disengaged himself from the two giggly teenagers who’d been testing their flirting skills on the good-looking, unconventional reporter. With his characteristic rolling saunter, he made his way easily through the crowd, coming to a stop in front of Lindsey. Hands on his lean hips, he gave her a slow once-over. “Damn,” he drawled. “You look good.”
She giggled like one of the teenagers. “Thanks. Did someone forget to tell you this is a dressy occasion?”
Lifting an eyebrow, he looked down at his own outfit, which consisted of a blue-and-cream checked-cotton shirt, worn unbuttoned over a cream-colored T-shirt and khakis. “What do you mean?” Riley asked with feigned innocence. “I’m even wearing socks.”
“Oh, so you are. For you, that counts as formal wear, doesn’t it?”
He extended an arm to her. “Dance with me. It will keep me from falling into a coma.”
“Not the most flattering offer I’ve had in a while,” she chided, laying her fingers on his surprisingly muscular forearm. “Are you asking me to dance only because you’re so bored?”
Fully aware that she wasn’t really offended, he chuckled as he escorted her to the dance floor, where a good number of other couples swayed to recorded dance music. A new number was just beginning, and Riley turned Lindsey into his arms, comfortably taking the lead. Riley had always been a good dancer. She allowed herself to relax and enjoy.
“So what’s with the new look you’ve been showing off the last couple of weeks?” Riley asked, proving once again that very little escaped him despite his carefully cultivated air of lazy unconcern.
She shrugged one almost-bare shoulder. “I just decided it was time to start looking like a grown-up.”
He made a face. “Why would you want to do that? You’re not even thirty yet.”
Lindsey smiled up at him. “Who said you have to be thirty to be grown-up? You’re thirty and I wouldn’t exactly call you a model of maturity.”
“Oh, gee, thanks. So why’d you suddenly decide it was time for your metamorphosis?”
“Just ready for a change, I guess. In a lot of ways.”
“I’ve heard rumors that you’re thinking about selling your house. Maybe moving away.”
Even