“Surely you’ve noticed that this area is doing quite well business-wise?” Lindsey added, her pitch obviously well-rehearsed. “It’s one of the fastest-growing areas in the state. Minority-owned businesses alone have increased by almost forty percent since nineteen—”
“Lindsey.” Deborah decided it was time to interrupt before the other woman pulled out a PowerPoint presentation. “Why me?”
“Because you fit so well into the business plan I envision,” Lindsey replied promptly. “I’ve followed reports of your career with both interest and envy. When Caitlin mentioned that you just finished a job and were considering new offers, it seemed the perfect time to approach you with mine.”
“This has really caught me out of the blue.”
“I realize that. And I hope you understand that I’m certainly not expecting an immediate answer. Take all the time you like to think about it; I’ve got to make a short sales trip early this week, anyway.”
“To be honest, I hadn’t planned to move back to this area. There’s an advantage to quiet anonymity, you know.”
Lindsey smiled in commiseration. “Don’t I know it. Nearly everyone around here has known me all my life, and they feel that gives them the right to comment on my personal business whenever they like.”
“Exactly. And it isn’t as if my family hasn’t had its share of public problems,” Deborah added in a mutter.
“I know. There will always be gossip, I suppose, but Nathan and Gideon seem to have risen above it very well. Nathan and Caitlin’s law firm is thriving, and Gideon’s really starting to hit it big with his writing. And your mother is certainly a highly respected member of the community.”
That understatement made Deborah grimace. “Yes, well, I’m not sure I want to take a place here among them. I rather like being completely on my own.”
“I’ve been on my own for a while, too—even though I still live in the town where I grew up. Sometimes it gets sort of…I don’t know…lonely.” Lindsey’s somber expression lasted only a moment, and then she replaced it with her usual cheery smile. “But there are certainly advantages to it, as well. So take all the time you need to think about my offer. But promise me you will think about it.”
“I’ll think about it,” Deborah replied. Why not? Thinking certainly didn’t involve obligation.
The brightness of Lindsey’s smile increased by several watts. “Thanks. I’ve brought along a file full of catalogues and figures and projections—you’ll find I’ve been doing my homework.”
“Apparently so.”
A tall, broad-shouldered man with fussily styled, thinning light-brown hair, sun-narrowed blue eyes and a shark’s smile paused beside their table. “Well, hey, Deborah. Looking good. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
Deborah gave him a sidelong glance. “Let’s keep it that way a while longer, shall we?”
Lindsey giggled.
Kirk Sawyer, former pro football player turned pitchman for his father’s automobile dealership, scowled. “You always were a snotty bitch.”
“And I’ve gotten even better at it since you used to annoy the hell out of me in school. Don’t hang around and make me demonstrate it.”
He snorted and turned to stalk away. His arrogant footsteps weren’t quite steady; Kirk was rapidly becoming the town drunk, even though he still thought of himself as the local hero.
It hadn’t been ruined knees alone that had destroyed Kirk’s athletic career, though he would never admit that his problems had run much deeper. His daddy took good care of him, Deborah thought with a shake of her head. It was because of Bill Sawyer’s pleas that Nathan had reluctantly defended Kirk in several DUI cases, until he’d finally had enough and refused to serve as Kirk’s lawyer.
“Way to go, Deborah,” Lindsey murmured. “That guy gives me the creeps. He made a heavy pass at me at a club one night. Thought I was going to have to pull out the pepper spray, but Dylan Smith was there to help me out.”
“Of course he was.” Former bad boy Dylan had somehow become the new local hero, Deborah thought, bemused by the reversals of fortune.
“Enough business. Let’s rehash your brother’s wedding.”
Smiling at the abrupt change of subject, Deborah asked, “Which brother? They’ve both had weddings this year.”
“The latest. Gideon. Everyone was so surprised when he suddenly up and married his New York agent. Word is they’re going to split their time between Honesty and New York—mostly Honesty, since everyone knows how much Gideon hates having lots of people around.”
“Yes, that’s their plan.”
“Adrienne seems confident she can handle her clients’ business from here, for the most part. She told Caitlin she’s going to cut back to just a select few. Gideon, of course, and a couple of other long-time clients. And now Dylan. That was certainly a shock.”
A half-eaten slice of pizza fell from Deborah’s suddenly nerveless fingers, landing with a splat on her plate. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Dylan Smith. You haven’t heard yet? Dylan hasn’t said much about it, but you know how word gets around. Yolanda Krump found out that Adrienne has agreed to represent Dylan for a novel he has written. Yolanda’s sister works at the post office, you know. She’s the one who let the news slip. Yolanda is irate, of course, because Adrienne declined to represent that rambling so-called work of autobiographical fiction Yolanda’s been babbling about for ages.”
“Dylan’s written a book.” It was the only part of Lindsey’s explanation Deborah could focus on just then. “And Adrienne’s representing him.”
“Kicker, isn’t it? Especially since everyone knows he and Gideon have never exactly gotten along. And now Gideon’s wife is his agent and Dylan’s. One of those small-world things.” Lindsey took a sip of her cola, then suddenly tilted her head. “You and Dylan were once an item, weren’t you?”
“A long time ago,” Deborah muttered, well aware that Lindsey already knew. “Back when we were just kids.”
“So did you know then that he had aspirations of being a writer?”
“No.”
“Ironic, isn’t it, that he and Gideon have so much in common, really? Both good-looking guys, close to the same age, both writers.”
“Lindsey.”
“Mm?”
“If you want me even to consider a business partnership with you, you have to promise one thing.”
“Which is?”
“We don’t talk about Dylan Smith.”
“Oh.” Lindsey’s expression turned speculative. “Sore subject?”
“You could say that.”
“So, um, Dylan who?”
Deborah nodded in satisfaction. “Exactly.”
Deborah was fuming when she stormed into her mother’s house. During the drive back, she had tried very hard to concentrate on Lindsey’s business offer, but her thoughts kept circling back to the same infuriating point.
“Mother!”
Lenore appeared in the living-room doorway with an expression that conveyed both curiosity and displeasure. “Honestly, Deborah, there’s no need to shout. How was your lunch with Lindsey?”
“Did