CHRISTMAS IN WHITEHORN Read online

  She tried to tell herself that the good news was he hadn't put her in back, where the criminals sat. Nor had he slapped on handcuffs. As they drove off, she glanced back at the duplex. Mark's truck still sat in his carport. As far as she could tell, he hadn't been home all night, nor had he arrived that morning. Where was he and what was he thinking?

  Three hours later she still didn't have an answer. She'd answered questions until her throat was sore. No, she hadn't seen anyone suspicious hanging around the café. Yes, she'd turned off the stove and unplugged both coffee stations before leaving. She explained about the checklist and how she'd followed it so closely because she wasn't used to closing up at night.

  That statement had brought a whole new line of questioning. Why had she suddenly asked to work that night if she didn't usually. Darcy tried to stay calm.

  "I didn't request the shift change. There was a whole big mess with scheduling." She cupped her hands around the coffee the sheriff's secretary had provided and tried not to wonder if her interview was being taped or recorded without her knowledge. "One of the waitresses needed time off in the afternoon for a birthday party for her daughter. Somebody on nights needed to work a morning shift. Someone else had a doctor's appointment. We all switched everything around and no one was willing to fill in at night."

  She glanced at the sheriff and tried to smile. She doubted she was successful. "The people who work it, really like it. The rest of us try to avoid it. Finally I said I'd close. It doesn't happen very often and I try to cooperate so that if I ever need to change, people are willing to trade with me."

  Rafe didn't look at her as he scribbled on a pad. Darcy folded her arms over her chest. While the temperature in the room felt pleasant, she was chilled all the way to her soul. Her stomach tightened every time she thought about Mark. Why hadn't she seen him? Was he really busy or was he avoiding her? She hadn't done anything wrong, but would he believe her? Did he think that once again he'd gotten involved with a criminal? Was this situation reminding him of the one with Sylvia?

  The sheriff walked her through the evening again. Darcy felt exhausted. Some of it was the interview, but most of it was probably shock and the fact that she hadn't slept the previous night. No matter how many times she showered, she couldn't get the smell of smoke out of her memory.

  "That's it for now," Rafe told her. "You'll be hearing from the arson investigator. He'll want to talk with you – probably later today."

  She nodded. "I lost my job when the Hip Hop burned down. I won't be going anywhere."

  Rafe didn't seem overly sympathetic. "One of my men will drive you home. Thank you for your time, Ms. Montague."

  She thought about asking if she was now allowed to leave the city, but she didn't want to start trouble. No doubt the sheriff would want to know why. When she was up to visiting her brother, she would call the sheriff's office and make sure it was all right with them.

  *

  Mark wasn't home when Darcy was dropped off by a young deputy. She knocked on his door for several minutes, even though she knew it was pointless. His paper still lay in front of his porch.

  She grabbed it, then headed for her own place. After fixing coffee, she sat down at the table to distract herself with the headlines. Maybe she could even work up enough energy to look through the want ads, now that she needed a job. Anything to keep her from thinking that it had been way too long since Mark had disappeared the previous night. He'd given her his truck to get home, but he'd never said he would call. And he hadn't.

  What was he thinking? Did he blame her for the fire? Had he disappeared from her life for good?

  Pain stabbed through her chest. She gulped in a breath, wishing it was some medical problem that could be fixed by a pill or more exercise – only she knew it was something much harder to cure. She ached for the loss of all she'd ever wanted.

  After being alone for so long, she'd finally allowed herself to get involved and fall in love with someone. After five years of struggling, she was nearly in reach of some financial peace of mind. In a matter of one evening, everything had been taken away from her.

  Just to make things even worse than that, she might still be a suspect in the fire.

  Her mind raced. Whitehorn wasn't a big place. Where would she find another job? What about Dirk? She had to keep him in the Madison School. There might be some financial aid. Lord knows she was more destitute now than she'd ever been. Maybe she should call Andrew and talk to him. She reached for the phone only to remember that he was on vacation the week between Christmas and New Year's.

  Darcy resisted the urge to curl up in a ball. Somehow she had to find the strength to pull it all together. The past five years had taught her how to be a survivor. She would get through this and move on with her life. If that meant getting over Mark, she would do it.

  But the thought of being without him hurt too much. To keep from focusing on her pain, she opened the paper and scanned the headlines. There was a picture of what was left of the Hip Hop and a long article. She read it through, at first only noticing that she wasn't listed as a suspect. Then she actually absorbed what the article said. Her mouth dropped open.

  "Treasure Chest Of Gold And Jewelry Found In Café Foundation."

  Darcy blinked. Gold and jewelry? In the foundation of the Hip Hop? Was it possible?

  She read the article more carefully, but there weren't any more details. Just the mention that "the sheriff's office was investigating."

  Where on earth had it come from? Was the treasure the reason for the fire? Had someone found out about it and been trying to steal it?

  Someone who needed money?

  Darcy's heart sank. She would certainly qualify under those circumstances and Mark knew it.

  She wadded up the paper and tossed it across the room. She had to do something, anything, to keep herself from going crazy. She rose and headed for the living room. There were open boxes under the tree. Maybe if she straightened up, or even gave the place a good cleaning, she could keep from thinking about the disaster that was her life.

  She cleared out boxes and wrapping pa- per, shoving everything into the large carton that had held her bakeware. As she worked, she tried not to remember how perfect Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had been. How Mark had been so generous to her and the way he'd really seemed to enjoy the time they'd spent at Dirk's school.

  Her fingers closed around the small box containing the lottery tickets he'd given her. Hey, maybe one of them would be worth a million dollars and all her problems would be solved.

  She dug in her pocket for a coin and sat on the sofa. After placing the tickets on the coffee table, she began to scratch off the first one.

  Nothing, she thought in disgust. The second one had a prize of two dollars. She'd just cleared the first box on the third ticket – exposing a prize of a hundred thousand dollars – when the phone rang. She glanced at the ticket. A hundred grand? In what lifetime would that happen? Then she reached for the receiver.

  "Hello?"

  "Darcy, it's Mark."

  The connection was garbled. She could barely understand the words. Even so her heart began to beat wildly as her spirits rose.

  "Mark? Where are you? What's going on?"

  "I'm—"

  The phone line snapped and popped. She could tell he was talking, but she couldn't make out the words.

  "—and I wanted to tell you goodbye."

  She froze. "Goodbye?"

  "Darcy, you know I have to do this. I'm sorry. I'll—"

  He was gone.

  She stared at the phone, then pushed frantically on the disconnect button. When that didn't work, she punched in the code to dial the number of her last call. She waited impatiently until a computerized recording said that cell phone was not currently available.

  For nearly an hour she hovered by the phone, pacing, begging, praying that Mark would call back and explain. Finally she knew she couldn't keep fooling herself. She might not have heard everything he said, but
she'd heard enough. He'd wanted to tell her goodbye. Because he'd decided to end things with her.

  She sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. What had made him walk away from her? The fire? Did he really think she was responsible? He couldn't. What would she have to gain by burning down the Hip Hop? The fire had left her with no job and no baking contract. What was he thinking? Or wasn't he? Was he just reacting, the way he had about the money laundering?

  Or was it worse than that? Had he realized she was now destitute and still had to pay for her brother's schooling? Did he not want to be bothered with someone in trouble? Or was it that he'd never really cared about her? Had she just been fooling herself into thinking that she was more than cheap, easy sex?

  Tears spilled from her eyes. She gave in to the loneliness and pain, sobbing until her throat hurt. She cried for all the time she'd spent alone and how she'd tried to do everything right, only to end up where she'd started. Abandoned and broke.

  "No!" she said aloud, then sniffed. "I won't wallow in self-pity. It doesn't change anything and it only saps my strength."

  She slapped her hands on the coffee table and sent the lottery tickets flying. She gazed at the one for two dollars. Like that would help. She crumpled the one that hadn't had a prize, then idly scratched the ticket with the hundred-thousand-dollar square exposed. The next square matched.

  Darcy gasped. No way, she thought. She needed three matching to win. There was not going to be another hundred-thousand-dollar square. Life wasn't that easy.

  She moved the coin back and forth. Two dollars. Ten dollars. Fifty dollars.

  One hundred thousand dollars.

  She dropped the coin and stood up so suddenly she felt faint. She couldn't believe it. A hundred thousand dollars? Had she really won that?

  She screamed out loud. She was saved! With that kind of money she could pay for Dirk's schooling, put money in the bank and not have to worry. She could work to support herself without sweating her bills every month. She could—

  She paused in mid happy-dance. Her shoulders slumped and the dark cloud returned. This wasn't her money. Mark had given her the ticket, but he wouldn't have if he'd known what it was worth. She couldn't keep it. Not with how things had ended. She didn't want money from him. It was too much like being paid for services rendered.

  *

  Darcy left for the sheriff's office shortly after eight the next morning. She still hadn't slept and she felt like roadkill. It had taken her hours to compose a note to tuck in with the ticket. She'd wanted to say the right thing without giving away how much Mark had hurt her. She'd tried for flip but was afraid she'd simply come off as bitchy. So be it, she told herself as she drove through town. He could think ill of her if he liked. The bottom line was she was giving him a hundred thousand dollars.

  When she reached the sheriff's office, she asked after Mark but was told he was out of town. She left the sealed envelope with the desk clerk, then returned home. Today she would start looking for work, she told herself. She would also begin the process of finding another steady baked-goods customer. There were other restaurants in town. Maybe even a coffee shop in a business office. Or what about selling things in a kiosk at the mall? She would make a few calls, then prepare some samples. If she—

  Darcy turned into her driveway. She jammed on the brakes when she saw someone sitting on her front step. Someone who looked familiar.

  Slowly she eased forward, then stopped in front of the duplex and turned off her car. She got out, not sure she could believe her eyes.

  "Mark?"

  He rose and smiled at her. Some of the pain in her heart eased a little. This was not the smile of a man who had moved on.

  "You make me crazy," he said by way of greeting. He approached her, stopping when he was in front of her. "I tried to explain everything yesterday, but I was in a bad area for my cell phone and when we got cut off, I couldn't get you back."

  "I know. I tried calling you."

  He cupped her face in his large, strong hands. "I only have a minute. I'm still tracing the gold and jewelry found in the foundation of the Hip Hop and I have to get back to that. But I wanted to make sure we were okay."

  "Are we?"

  He leaned close and kissed her. "This isn't the way I planned this, Darcy, but I can't wait any longer. I love you. I've loved you for a long time, but I didn't realize it. I was too busy worrying about you being too like Sylvia and being determined never to trust again to realize what a prize you are. But I've learned my lesson. You're the most incredible woman I've ever known. I want us to live our lives together. I want to have kids with you and make a home. I tried to tell you the other night, but the fire got in the way. I'm sorry."

  Her mind spun as his words washed over her, healing wounds and making her laugh with happiness. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

  "Tell me again," she whispered.

  "I love you. I want to be with you always. I want to help with Dirk and buy a house together and invite people with no families to join us for every Thanksgiving, because leading with your heart is what you do best."

  She stepped back and stared at him. "So you don't think I had anything to do with the fire?"

  "Never. Darcy, is that what you thought?"

  She bit her lip. "I was worried about it," she admitted. "You disappeared and then that phone call."

  "Never," he repeated, and kissed her. "You're the best person I know. I love you."

  "I love you, too." She kissed him back, then pulled away. "However, you do realize I don't currently have a job."

  He groaned. "You make me crazy. Why does that matter? We're in this together. I would like us to get married right away. Then instead of working forty-seven different jobs you can concentrate on your baking business. It's the one you like the best, isn't it?"

  She nodded, still not sure this was actually happening. Mark loved her and was willing to help with her brother? Could it get any better?

  She searched his face. "You believe that I love you, don't you? I mean I'm not doing this for the money."

  "What money?"

  "Haven't you been to your office? I left the lottery ticket there for you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  She couldn't believe it. "Mark, one of the tickets you gave me is worth a hundred thousand dollars. I didn't think I was entitled to the money so I returned it to you with a note. Didn't you get it?"

  "I came straight here and I have to get back in about twenty minutes." He picked her up in his arms and swung her around. "So my wife is a rich woman. Cool."

  She laughed and held on to him. "It's your money, not mine."

  "Great. So your husband is a rich man. Either works for me." He set her on the ground. "We'll use some of it for the wedding and honeymoon, then put the rest away. Now you won't have to worry about Dirk's schooling. It's paid for."

  She kissed him. "You're amazing," she whispered fiercely. "Thank you for loving me. For understanding about my brother. Moving to Whitehorn was the best thing I ever did … for Dirk and for me."

  Mark smiled at her. "It was a lucky break for me, too, Darcy. I've been waiting for you all my life."

  * * * *