Be Mine Page 8

  “You’d better get out your receipt book, Aunt Clara. You could be accused of furnishing hospitality to the person who puts us out of business. She might think it’s a bribe,” Chad teased. “I guess I can say who I charge and who I don’t. It’s been a real joy to have you, Sabina. Are you sure you have to pay?”

  Sabina felt a stinging sensation behind her eyes. She would miss the homey comfort of the Kincaid household. Not the home, but the people. She’d probably never see them again. Clara’s no-nonsense warmth would be extended to the next person offered the comfort of the tiny suite. Sabina Hanlon would be forgotten.

  She should be glad to escape the tentacles of involvement Chad and the Kincaids had wrapped around her. Everyone here would have to solve their own problems and live with the results. They had no bearing on her. She was going back to Columbus and her job. Just because for once she’d come across people who cared enough to mine properly didn’t mean there weren’t others out there who were careless, and she intended to track them down.

  Clara took several minutes to locate a dog-eared receipt book and decide on a figure. Sabina decided not to protest the low rate, knowing even that was charged under duress. Arguing was not her style, and at this point she wanted to leave as gracefully as possible.

  She returned Clara’s brisk hug, feeling a surge of genuine affection for the older woman. “I can’t thank you enough, even though I probably gained five pounds. I appreciate the recipes.”

  “When you come back, I’ll fix some real special things. I didn’t know you were coming, or I’d a’ been ready.”

  Sabina smiled regretfully. “I probably won’t return until Calico opens a new site. Maybe not even then. If I should come this direction, I’ll stop by.” Much as I’d love to see you again, I won’t be back. She couldn’t become further involved with these people. As for Chad, if she had to return, she’d somehow make sure he was out of town on one of his little R & R’s when she arrived.

  Clara smiled. “You do that. I’ll be real glad to see you.”

  As she started her car, Chad tapped on the window, motioning for her to lower the glass. He leaned in the opening. “I have a stop to make on the way. Here’s the key to the office. You go on in and keep warm until I get there.”

  Chad’s brief intrusion left the imprint of his personality on the interior of the state car, as if a shade of his presence had taken possession of the seat next to her. Hoping to eradicate the image of that flashing smile, she popped her Mozart tape into the tape deck. If Mozart couldn’t rout the imprint of Chad Peters’ personality, she was in trouble.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Minutes after she arrived at the office, Chad pulled up.

  “Hop in. This won’t take long.” He glanced at the sullen sky. “I hope the snow doesn’t arrive early. The radio predicted a storm by midafternoon, but snow’s tough to forecast.”

  As she climbed in beside him, the breathlessness she had begun to take for granted seized Sabina. “Jonas said rain.”

  “He did, but the cold front shifted.”

  “If you want to leave early for Athens, don’t feel you’re abandoning me. I can finish up in the office by myself. I promise not to carry off any secret papers.”

  Chad dashed her hopes. “Plenty of time. I want you safely on your way home before this hits. And with this inspection out of the way I can celebrate after the game with a clear conscience.”

  The Jeep lurched into a pothole, throwing her against his shoulder. Sabina’s hasty attempt to pull away drew a crooked grin from Chad. His grin widened wolfishly before he added, “Of course, my conscience doesn’t have to be spotless.”

  Ignoring his remark, Sabina said, “You’re awfully confident . . . about the game, I mean.”

  “That shade of pink on your cheeks is flattering, Sabina.” The Jeep swung wide around another curve, this time throwing her against the door. “But you’re right. I’m sure we’ll win.”

  If he talked about basketball, he surely wouldn’t make any references to last night. She had to get back to the haven of her apartment. There were too many entanglements here.

  She wondered if it was already too late.

  “This is a good place to stop. Look down there.”

  She was so immersed in her thoughts that Chad’s voice startled her. He’d pulled off into a small clearing at the top of a low ridge. By swiveling her head she could easily follow the direction he indicated.

  Roughly half the shallow valley had been plowed the previous fall and lay ready for spring. A fence of bare-branched young shrubs backed by new fencing divided the land. “What will the rest be used for?”

  “Pasture. The owner leased the mineral rights beneath his dairy farm to get enough money to survive,” Chad said flatly. “Zack mined it in halves over two years so he could maintain his farming.”

  Forgetting she didn’t want to meet his eyes, Sabina swung around to face him. “I suppose he owed your bank money.”

  “Mine and several others. This was the only way he could keep the land his grandfather farmed.” Before she could respond angrily, he laid his fingers over her mouth. “Farming is a harsh life, Sabina. A new government regulation, one dry summer, or a wet summer, and things can turn against you.”

  She pushed his hand from her lips. “But you used him!”

  Chad ran the rejected fingers through his hair before closing his eyes wearily. “He came to me. I referred him to Zack. That’s the last site Zack mined before he died.” When he opened his eyes she saw his intensity. “We take care of our own around here. The farmer’s pride would accept this kind of help. In the end we were all better off.”

  “But that’s . . .”

  “It’s called survival.” Chad’s voice was hard. “Do you know what it’s like to lose not only the land you inherited but the only way you know to make a living? What career change is a dairy farmer supposed to make? Can he become a computer programmer? A doctor? He and his family can’t survive on what he’d make working in a fast food place.”

  The truth of his words struck Sabina like a slap. Her idealism had never allowed her to look further than the effects on the land. Before she’d come here, everything was black or white. She knew industry needed the energy coal provided. What she despised was the method used to get the coal. Until now, she’d blamed the mining companies.

  She’d never looked at things from the perspective of Chad’s anonymous dairy farmer. And he still owned his land. Wasn’t this beautiful site what she thought of as the ideal result?

  “I’ve never thought of it that way. No one’s ever before presented the other side. Thank you.” The admission hurt, but she was ruthlessly honest about such things. She felt as if a large chip had just fallen from her shoulder.

  He smiled. “You’re a very up front lady. For the second time in two days you’ve conceded a point.”

  “I’m sure every site isn’t mined because of hardship,” she reminded him.

  Chad shifted gears and gunned the engine. “I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t noticed that. What’s the old phrase? `Two sides to every story.’ There are as many reasons as there are people involved. And as many poorly executed mines.”

  The roar of the Jeep’s engine drowned out her reply. By the time they reached the office, Sabina’s mind had focused on the weather. She threw an anxious glance at the sullen sky. “That’s getting ugly.”

  “We’ll work fast,” Chad agreed. “I promise to stick to business.”

  Studiously ignoring him, Sabina greeted Edna and headed straight for the office, Sock hugging her steps like a shadow. She threw her coat over a chair and opened her briefcase. She would finish her work and leave. “Okay, let’s see those surveyors’ results and the report on the quality of the runoff.”

  Edna appeared in the doorway, her hands gripped together. “Chad . . . that Mr. Merton called. Just before you came. He . . . he said he was coming here.”

  “When, Edna?” Chad’s gentle voice didn’t mat
ch his frown nor the steely look in his eyes.

  “He . . . he just drove up.”

  The sound of the front door closing elicited a soft epithet from Chad. “Thanks, Edna. Tell him I’ll be right out.” He turned to Sabina. “I’ll get those papers for you.” He went to the filing cabinet in the corner and extracted a file.

  The door didn’t latch behind him. As the conversation drifted through the opening, Sabina moved to close it. The stranger’s words froze her in place.

  “You’re a hard man to catch, Mr. Peters. I apologize for coming without an appointment, but my principal is offering terms that are very favorable to the Calico heirs.”

  Chad’s reply was unintelligible, as if he lowered his voice in hope of bringing his visitor’s volume down.

  “I quite understand your inability to talk now. Can we have lunch next week? Perhaps Wednesday?”

  He must have received a negative. Sabina heard a note of desperation in the visitor’s voice. “Then Thursday.”

  Sabina strained to hear Chad’s reply, then realized she was shamelessly eavesdropping. By the time he returned she was hard at work.

  Two hours later, Sabina pushed aside papers and stretched. Chad hadn’t mentioned his conversation with the unseen Merton, and there was no way she could ask him about it. She reminded herself for the tenth time that the whole thing was none of her business.

  Other than interruptions for telephone calls, he had been all business. Of course, he was anxious to get away. Why was she suspicious? Her eyes wandered to the table in the corner where Chad labored over a stack of printouts.

  Light from the brass table lamp highlighted his lean cheek and brought the thick brush of his lashes into sharp relief. How ridiculous for a man to have doll’s lashes, thick and blunt.

  Sabina shook her head to clear it. There was no future for her with Chad.

  The room suddenly seemed too small, if the walls were closing in. “Do you mind if I open the door? It’s getting awfully close in here.” Sabina rose jerkily, hiding her inner desperation, and pulled the door inward. The light coming from the spacious outer office was diffused, as if dependent for illumination on the plastic panels set into the ceiling. The room looked as if it were late evening.

  Turning, she recrossed the office and opened the blinds. The view forced a strangled sound from her throat. She jumped when Chad’s hand fell reassuringly on her shoulder.

  “I should have known this storm would come fast and hit hard. March weather’s impossible to predict.”

  * * * *

  Chad neglected to share the fact that an hour earlier he’d authorized the managers to close the banks and ordered the mine site cleared. His conscience was clear. He’d told her earlier about the forecast. He just hadn’t mentioned that experience had taught him to recognize a fast moving front.

  A sheet of white swirled in front of their eyes, obscuring all but the vague outlines of two mammoth machines parked no more than twenty feet from the building. Bending closer to the glass, Sabina inspected the snow-laden branches of the low shrub growing beneath the window. “There are already over four inches of snow! When did that happen?”

  “I’d say in the past hour or so.” Chad said. “The roads will be impassable in half an hour, if they aren’t already.”

  He regretted missing the game. On the other hand, he might never have a better chance to get to know Sabina better. The business part of her visit was finished; Chad hated to mix business with pleasure.

  The slam of the front door echoed hollowly through the building, bringing a gust of cold air with it. A voice said urgently, “Edna, you’ve got to leave now, or we’ll end up spending the night here.”

  “Edna’s father is right. We all have to get out of here.” Chad locked the spreadsheets in a drawer. “Get your stuff. We can make it to town in the Jeep.”

  “But I have to get back to Columbus tonight.” Panic quavered in Sabina’s voice.

  Chad gathered the papers from his desk and stowed them in her open briefcase. “You have no business setting out in this. These fast, short storms catch the road crews with their pants down, and things will get worse as you travel west. Come back to Aunt Clara’s. These blow in fast and melt the next day. Until then, you’re stuck.”

  Sabina’s common sense was stronger than her panic at the thought of being snowbound with Chad. After a second despairing look out the window, she gathered her belongings.

  Chad joined Edna and her father in the reception room, and Sabina heard their voices as she zipped her parka and pulled up her hood. The door slammed, and Chad returned, snapping his vest. “Sam says the roads are all right if we take our time.”

  “Is that all you’re wearing? Don’t you have a hat or something?” He looked poorly prepared for the weather outside.

  “I can last for eight miles. Maybe the heater will decide to work.” He reached for her briefcase. “We’ll put your luggage in the Jeep.”

  “I’ll follow you. My car has front wheel drive.” If she was to be snowed in, she wanted to be ready for instant flight.

  Chad shrugged and switched off the light. “If you insist.” He led the way to the parking lot and helped her clear the windshield before they set out.

  As she followed the barely discernible tracks of the Jeep, snow tugged at her wheels, as if willing the car toward the ditches on either side of the road. Visibility was nonexistent. Escape to the haven of her apartment was out of the question. Clara would be there, and probably Erica, but even that was inadequate protection against the attraction tugging at her.

  Sabina did the only thing she could think of. She prayed for a rapid thaw.

  Her petitions continued until they slithered into the wide driveway. So great was her concentration that she nearly neglected to stop. She wondered if prayer would be an acceptable excuse for wrecking a state-owned automobile.

  Clara opened the front door of the house before Sabina could tug out her bags. “I was hopin’ you’d come back,” the older woman said as she hurried them into the warm hall. “I knew when this started it would be a real rip-snorter. We’ll have to listen to the game on the radio. That Billy Parker don’t describe it so’s you’d know what’s goin’ on, but at least he gives the score. Chad, you wipe off that dog before he heads for Daniel’s room,” she ordered as Sock slipped into the house.

  Shaking the snow from his vest, Chad reached for the dog’s collar and explained, “The announcer from the local station tries hard, but the commentary gets a little confused at times.” He looked at Clara, “I take it the team got off all right.”

  “Daniel just called to say the other team got there, too. The university’ll put ‘em all up tonight. Whenever you’re ready, come out to the kitchen and eat.”

  Erica joined them as Clara was ladling fragrant chili into thick pottery bowls. “I can’t stand it. If they’d let the pep club leave with the team, I’d be there. Who wants to listen to silly Billy Parker!” She threw herself into her chair.

  “Beats bein’ stuck in a ditch somewhere,” said Clara, thumping a bowl in front of her granddaughter.

  Glancing beneath her lashes, Sabina was struck by Chad’s bland expression. “Chad told me the same thing about starting out for Columbus. I wish I’d kept a better eye on the weather.”

  Distracted from her own disappointment, Erica asked, “What’s the rush? Hot date tonight?”

  Without looking up, Chad answered, “A dentist appointment tomorrow. Some people actually enjoy root canals and novocain.”

  Sabina refused to rise to his bait. “I simply don’t want to impose on you people any longer than I have to.”

  “She’s afraid she might have a good time.” Chad cut a generous piece of cornbread and slathered it with butter. “Maybe she doesn’t know being snowed in is an art in this part of the country, social life being what it is.”

  Giggles swept Erica. “Remember two years ago when we played Monopoly all night? I had two hotels on every piece of property I owned, a
nd more money than all of you and the bank combined.”

  “I think that was when you got butter from the popcorn all over the money because you counted your ill-gotten gains every ten minutes. We had to buy a new set.” Chad grumbled.

  Erica retorted, “You should have known better than to sell me Park Place so early in the game.”

  “You cheated,” he said flatly, his eyes twinkling.

  “Did not.”

  “Stop your branglin’,” Clara intervened. “A body couldn’t tell which of you was grown up.”

  “I’ve heard enough to know I’m not playing Monopoly tonight,” Sabina asserted. “Sounds as if you play for blood.”

  Chad scooped up the last of his chili, promising, “I’m sure we’ll find something to do. After the game, of course. There are all kinds of ways to celebrate.” He rose from the table in one lithe movement. “I’m going to join Sock in Daniel’s room. I need to make up the sleep I lost last night.”

  “Hmph. If you’d stayed home, instead of bothering Christian folk, you’d have gotten a decent night’s rest.”

  Chad threw his arm up in mock self defense and headed jauntily out the door.

  “Just like the pigs. Eat and take a nap,” his aunt said.

  “He can’t hear you, Gran.” Erica turned to Sabina and explained, “She simply adores him, but she never likes to let him get too sure of himself.”

  Sabina wondered what it would be like to be loved so much you could laugh off criticism. Her mother’s efforts to make her perfect hadn’t succeeded. She’d been adequate at ballet and pedestrian at piano, but had excelled in sports and in class. Her mother had taken the successes for granted and looked on the failures as lack of effort. Her father hadn’t noticed anything.

  Until now, the fight to preserve the environment had consumed her idealism. Chad’s explanation of rural economics this morning still haunted her.