Her Second Chance Family Page 3

  “Arrest him?” Stan’s nervous glance traveled to Jason, then back to Mrs. McKinney. “But ma’am...he’s a dog.”

  As though understanding that he was the topic of conversation, the dog marched through a bed of low-growing, purple flowers and plopped himself down on the delicate blooms, casting his observers a look that could only be called challenging.

  “I don’t care if he is a dog,” Mrs. McKinney growled. “He’s trespassing. I want that mutt out of here.”

  “But, ma’am, we can’t arrest a dog for trespassing—”

  “No, but the town does have a leash law, doesn’t it, Officer Wilson?” Jason asked, walking slowly to the rottweiler. He held out a hand, allowing the dog a sniff. Finding no resistance, he rubbed the back of its neck, turning the collar to get a better view of the tags. “Says here he belongs to a Henry Turnball.”

  “Henry?” Mrs. McKinney repeated in disbelief. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, he lives in the brick house down the street. He was a good friend of my husband’s.”

  A slight huffing and wheezing sounded behind them. They turned to spot an older man half-walking, half-jogging up the sidewalk with a dog leash in hand. “Luther,” he gasped.

  The dog’s ears perked to attention and he stood to greet his master.

  The man glanced around the yard, moaning slightly. “Oh, Luther, what have you done now?”

  “This your dog, sir?” Jason asked.

  “Yes...well, actually, he’s my son’s, Henry, Jr.’s.” He struggled for breath as he snapped the leash on Luther’s collar. “I’m taking care of him for a few weeks while he’s away on business. Don’t tell me the dog’s caused all this trouble?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jason said. “I’m afraid he did.”

  “Mildred, I am sorry,” Henry said, looking sheepishly at his old friend. “I had no idea he’d found a way to sneak out of the house. Not until I caught him nudging open the screen door with his nose. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

  Mrs. McKinney sighed. “Well, the harm’s already done.”

  “I’ll take Luther home,” Henry said. “Then I’ll come back and help you clean up this mess.”

  “Just tie him up to the clothesline,” Mrs. McKinney said, motioning away his concern with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get a cup of coffee before we start.”

  “I’d like that.” Henry smiled. “I’ve been meaning to come over for a visit. I’m just sorry it took this to get me over here.”

  Jason cleared his throat noisily. Startled, Mrs. McKinney glanced at Jason and Stan, as though just realizing that they were still there. “Chief Gallagher, Officer Wilson, could I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” Jason said. “We need to be moving on. If there isn’t anything else...”

  “No,” Mrs. McKinney said, shaking her head. She gave Henry a shy smile. “This is between friends. We’ll take care of it ourselves.”

  Jason exchanged a silent glance with Stan. Both men struggled to remain sober. With a nod, Jason turned to leave.

  Stan followed close on his heels. Once out of earshot, he whispered, “This is the first time I’ve seen Mrs. McKinney smile in almost a year.”

  “It’s spring, Officer Wilson. There’s a lot to smile about.”

  Stan grinned. “It sure doesn’t hurt that Mr. Turnball’s a widower, now does it?”

  Jason raised a brow. “Thinking of taking up matchmaking, instead of police work?”

  “No, sir. I like my job just fine.”

  Jason glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon. What do you say we break for lunch?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Stan said. “I know just the place. Mel’s diner.”

  “The food good?”

  Stan paused at the door of the patrol car and shrugged. “It’s all right. But that isn’t the diner’s biggest draw. Mel’s has the prettiest waitresses in town.” Grinning, his junior officer slung himself into the front seat.

  With a shake of his head, Jason joined him. Belatedly he remembered his nervous new neighbor and the waitress uniform she’d worn. He felt a stirring of unease tighten his chest. The last thing he wanted was for Maggie Conrad to think he was checking up on her.

  Wyndchester was a tourist town. There had to be at least four or five restaurants off the main street alone, he assured himself. Although his new neighbor certainly qualified as pretty, what were the chances of her working at Mel’s?

  “Everything all right, Maggie?” Bob Williams, one of the regular customers at Mel’s diner, asked.

  Maggie blinked, surprised by the question. “Sure, Bob. Why do you ask?”

  He sat back in his seat at the counter and studied her. “Well, because, as much as I like my coffee, I’m still only able to drink one cup at a time.”

  Her gaze dropped to the counter, where she’d just finished pouring Bob a second cup—as in, two cups and two saucers—of coffee. Embarrassed heat flushed her skin. She whisked the extra cup away. “I’m sorry, Bob. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

  “That’s okay, Maggie,” he assured her, his gentle face wrinkling into a smile.

  Bob was in his midsixties. He had a head of salt-andpepper hair and a smile that never failed to warm her heart. Maggie hadn’t known her own father. Although as a child, she’d often fantasized how different her life would have been if she had. Bob would have fit her idea of the perfect father to a T.

  “It’s a lovely spring day,” Bob added. “No wonder you’d have other things on your mind.”

  “We’re a little busy today,” she murmured as though that explained her error. She didn’t want to admit to anyone, not even herself, that thoughts of the town’s new police chief had been the cause of her absentmindedness.

  She followed Bob’s glance around the diner. As usual almost every table was filled. Even the front counter was packed. The room swelled with the buzz of friendly conversation and the clatter of dishes and silverware. It smelled of coffee and the Blue Plate Special: meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. Unlike the other restaurants in town, Mel’s was frequented by locals. Patrons that came again and again. Those who remembered if the service at their last visit had been good or not.

  Bob sipped his coffee. “You’re a little short-staffed today, aren’t you?”

  Maggie nodded, trying not to let her concern show. “Jenny hasn’t come in yet.”

  Jenny Lewis was young, barely twenty. Maggie was unable to remember the last time the girl had been late. She sighed. At least worrying about Jenny kept her mind off her own problems.

  “Anybody seen the new chief of police yet?” One of the regulars at the front counter asked.

  Maggie flinched at the question. She drew in a steadying breath, hoping no one had noticed her reaction. So much for avoiding her problems.

  Heads up and down the counter shook a negative response.

  “I hear he’s moved in next door to you, Maggie,” the man persisted.

  Eyes focused on her.

  Since leaving her home in California, she’d tried her best to blend into the communities where she’d stayed. She’d worked and lived her life quietly, without drawing attention to herself or to Kevin. But not here in Wyndchester. The citizens of this little town wouldn’t allow anyone to go unnoticed. Maggie forced a smile. “That’s right. I saw him just for a moment before I left for work.”

  “What does he look like?” Bob asked.

  Maggie shrugged, trying to blot out the image of the tall, handsome policeman with the almost black hair. She refused to remember the dimples that deepened on his cheeks when he smiled. Or the twinkle in his pale blue eyes when he spoke to her son. Aloud she said, “I didn’t really get a good look.”

  “I hear he’s from Chicago,” another man piped in.

  “A homicide detective,” someone else added.

  “What’s a man with his experience doing in a town like Wyndchester?” Bob asked, frowning thoughtfully.

  His friend ch
uckled. “The question is, how long will a man with his experience stay in a town like Wyndchester? I’ll give him a couple of months, four tops, before he’s driven out of town by boredom.”

  “I’ll give him six months,” a nearby patron quipped.

  “Put me down for a year,” another customer said.

  A flurry of bets were placed.

  “What do you think, Maggie?” someone asked.

  Maggie didn’t answer, not wanting to lay odds on the new chief of police or his adjustment to the job. She refused to get her hopes up and pray for his speedy departure. Besides, she wouldn’t be around long enough to know whether or not Jason Gallagher stayed. She intended to be long gone before the summer even started.

  Not that she wouldn’t miss this little town. Maggie glanced around the diner and felt a pang of regret. In the short time she’d been here, she’d grown fond of Wyndchester. Not only were the people friendly, but the town felt safe, comfortable, fitting her like a favorite pair of shoes, reminding her of a time when life wasn’t so uncertain.

  No wonder Kevin didn’t want to leave.

  A fellow waitress, a buxom woman with brassy blond hair, interrupted her thoughts. “Maggie doesn’t care how long the new chiefs staying,” Dot said, giving Maggie a sassy wink. “It’s whether or not he’s married that matters, right, Maggie?”

  Laughter erupted in the diner.

  Maggie blushed.

  Bob came to her rescue. “Now, Dot, if anybody’s going to marry Maggie, it’s going to be me. I’ve already asked her four times. She just isn’t ready to be tied down yet. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

  Her blush deepened.

  “She’s newly widowed, Dot,” another man admonished. “Give her time before you start pushing her toward the altar.”

  Maggie shifted uncomfortably. She’d never been a good liar. Using a new last name was difficult enough. When she’d moved into town, telling everyone she was a widow seemed an expedient way to handle unwanted questions. No one would ask where Kevin’s father was. Nor would they wonder why she avoided even the most persistent of suitors. Although deceiving people who were so nice did go against her conscience.

  “Her husband might be dead, but that doesn’t mean she is,” Dot insisted, draping an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Mel’s got Maggie working too hard. It’s time she enjoyed herself some.”

  “We don’t even know what the new chief looks like, Dot,” a woman at a nearby table said. She waved a hand at the boys at the counter. “We don’t want to fix Maggie up with somebody fat and bald, like these old coots.”

  Protests arose from the counter.

  The bell above the door rang, heralding the arrival of another customer.

  A hush fell on the dining room.

  Maggie’s gaze flew to the door, curious as to who might have caused such a startled reaction. When she did so, her heart stuttered. She forgot to breathe.

  Standing at door, looking tall, intimidating and much too handsome was the topic of the diner patrons’ conversation. It was Jason Gallagher. Her new neighbor. The town’s chief of police.

  Jason spotted her the moment he entered the diner. He ignored the uneven thump of his heart and gave her a nod of recognition.

  Maggie neither returned the gesture, nor moved to acknowledge his presence. Instead, she stared at him, the color draining from her face.

  He wasn’t blind to the fact that he’d become the center of attention. People were looking at him, watching him watch Maggie. He forced himself to turn away, to follow Stan Wilson to a table at the far side of the diner, all the while wishing he could go to her and explain.

  Explain what?

  That Mel’s hadn’t been his choice of restaurants? That it was a coincidence that he was here at all? That he wasn’t curious about her? That, while he’d only met her this morning, he didn’t feel a little jolt of attraction each time he saw her?

  The whole explanation would be a bald-faced lie. Maggie Conrad aroused a sensual interest in him that he’d never experienced quite this way before. An awareness that was as ill-advised as it was unwanted.

  He hadn’t come to Wyndchester looking for an involvement with a woman, he reminded himself sternly. If there was anything to be learned from his past, it was that he was unlucky at love. Whether it be with his ex-wife, or even his son, bad luck seemed to dog him whenever he got too close to another person. Opening himself up to the uncertainty of a new relationship was not part of his plans.

  Habit caused him to seat himself at a booth with his back to the wall and a full view of the diner before him. Blame it on cop instinct, but he never turned his back on the unknown. Not seeing what was behind him could destroy him. Although he doubted he was in much danger here in Wyndchester.

  Stan drummed his fingers on the tabletop and grinned. “Looks like you’re the talk of the town, Chief.”

  “Who, me?” He tapped a finger to his chest, then glanced around the restaurant. Heads were still turned in their direction. He caught the curious gazes of nearby patrons before they were discreetly averted.

  “Yes, sir.” Stan chuckled. “They certainly aren’t interested in me. I’m old news, boss. I’ve been on the force for three years.”

  At the counter Maggie and a buxom waitress were having a heated conversation, casting an occasional glance his way. The other waitress was grinning. Maggie was not. Obviously she wasn’t pleased by her new neighbor’s appearance.

  At a nudge from the other waitress, Maggie armed herself with a couple of menus and a pot of coffee and headed his way.

  Jason’s pulse quickened as he watched her approach. Her legs were long, shapely. Despite the white, crepe-soled shoes, her stride was graceful, like a dancer’s. Her slim hips swung gently side to side, keeping time with her even steps. Jason felt a tug of longing in the pit of his stomach. Maggie provoked a different sort of hunger in him. One that had nothing to do with food.

  “Good afternoon, Officer Wilson,” she said, placing the coffeepot on the table, handing each of them a menu. She gave him a nod. “Chief Gallagher.”

  Noting the formal greeting, he answered in kind. “Hello, again...Mrs. Conrad.”

  Stan’s brows raised. “You two know each other?”

  They paused, neither speaking for a moment.

  Jason found his voice first. He cleared his throat. “We’re neighbors. I’m renting the house next door to, um, Mrs. Conrad’s.”

  Another uncomfortable silence.

  “Next door, eh? Well, that’s real nice,” Stan said, filling the void. He looked from one to the other, seeming amused by their discomfort. “Hey, I’m starved. What’s good today, Maggie?”

  Looking grateful for the change in topic, she fished her order pad from her apron pocket. Once again Jason found himself studying her long, tapering fingers, struck by an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and catch them in his. He gripped the menu tightly, struggling to keep his hormones in line.

  “The Blue Plate Special’s always a good bet,” Maggie said. With a quick, impersonal tone, she recited, “Today it’s meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, and apple pie for dessert.”

  The bell over the door jangled.

  Reflexively Jason looked up to see the newest customer. Only it wasn’t a customer. It was another waitress. A petite, dark-haired girl, who looked so young Jason would have guessed she was playing hooky from school.

  Greetings rose from the crowd at her entrance.

  A tall, bald man dressed all in white—T-shirt, pants and apron—stuck his head out the kitchen door, a sour expression on his face. His hands on his hips, he barked a few questions at the latecomer.

  Smiling shyly, the girl gave a timid shrug, then raised her left hand in explanation. She wore a diamond ring the size of a small rock.

  Oohs and aahs and a shower of congratulations from the lunch crowd greeted the silent announcement.

  Jason heard Maggie’s gasp of surprise. He saw the smile of delight soften her face.
Excitement sparkled in her eyes. And he changed his original opinion of his new neighbor.

  Maggie Conrad wasn’t pretty.

  She was beautiful.

  A subdued Stan Wilson snapped his menu closed. “I’ll have the special, Maggie.”

  Maggie jumped, startled out of her thoughts by his abrupt request. Then with a nod, she wrote down the order.

  “Make mine the same,” Jason said slowly, frowning at his officer’s sudden change in mood.

  Without asking, Maggie poured each of the men a cup of coffee. She took a step away. Now that she’d taken their orders, it seemed to Jason she was in a hurry to be gone. “Your orders will be up in a jiff.”

  “Maggie,” Jason blurted, stopping her hasty departure.

  She looked at him in surprise, the sparkle fading from her eyes.

  Jason searched his mind for something, anything to say to prolong her stay. But couldn’t think of a single excuse to delay the inevitable. Scowling slightly, he said, “Never mind. It wasn’t important.”

  She frowned. “Right. Well, then, I’ll be back with your orders.”

  He watched helplessly as she hurried to the young waitress’s side, put an arm around her shoulders and led her into the kitchen. The doors swung shut behind them, obstructing his view of the pair. Feeling inexplicably miffed by Maggie’s abandonment, Jason picked up his cup and sipped the hot brew, burning his mouth in the process.

  Swearing softly, he pushed the coffee away. He was acting like a lovesick puppy, panting after a forbidden treat. And for what? A woman who’d just as soon spit on him than look at him. The sooner he accepted it the better. The lady wasn’t interested.

  A fist slammed on the tabletop, rattling the coffee cups. Jason, startled, took a good look at his junior officer. “Something wrong, Officer Wilson?”

  “No, sir,” Stan said, his expression a reflection of Jason’s own glum frustration. There was only one explanation for such an emotion—woman trouble.

  Jason nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. “You know that girl?”