Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,28

She greeted her politely, grabbed menus and rolled napkins and followed her back out to the table Stephen had chosen.

“Hey Doc,” the girl said. “Where’ve you been, sweetie?”

There was no doubt the endearment was directed to the animal as the girl dropped to her knees, scratched behind his ears, then sat back so Scooter, on cue, could roll to his back for a belly rub.

“Don’t worry. I always wash my hands before I touch you,” she crooned. “Humans are dirty, you know.”

At the moment, Macy certainly understood her preference for four-legged creatures.

“Macy, this is Jacy, Scooter’s favorite part-time vet assistant and restaurant hostess.” Stephen left the introduction at that—no last names—and Macy appreciated it.

“Hello, Jacy.”

The girl looked up at her. “Is your name really Macy? I broke up with a guy because his name was Casey. I couldn’t bear the idea of going all the way through high school with a boyfriend whose name rhymed with mine.”

Despite the studs piercing her nose and eyebrow and the electric-yellow shade of her hair, Macy liked Jacy. Shared pain, she figured. “My friends in college set me up with a blind date because he was named Tracy and they thought it would be cute if we hit it off.”

Jacy shuddered. “Those people weren’t friends. I’ll tell your waitress you’re out here. Nice to meet you, Macy. See you later, Doc. You, too, sweetie.”

Stephen was smiling when Macy shifted her gaze from Jacy’s retreating figure back to him. “Macy and Tracy? You could have named your first daughter Stacy.”

“Or Lacy.” She imitated Jacy’s shudder. After spreading a linen napkin on her lap, she asked, “What did you think of Fair Winds?”

“Impressive place.” He said the words with sincerity, but she thought he hadn’t been impressed so much as taken by surprise. She appreciated that, too.

“Really impressive,” he went on. “I was lucky to have my own bedroom all the time, and your three-year-old has her own mansion.”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said at first, then dragged his hand through his hair, leaving it on end. “Well, yeah. A little. So what was the suggestion you had about it?”

Did she want to discuss that now? Even want to think about it? Common sense said no, but when she opened her mouth, something else took control of her words. “I had a visit this afternoon from the president of the Fair Winds Preservation Society—an organization, mind you, that didn’t even exist until just recently. She suggested I give the property, the house and all of its contents to them so they could turn it into a proper memorial.”

Stephen’s eyes widened behind the glasses and his jaw dropped. “You’re making that up.”

Macy shook her head.

“Just give it to them? Not sell, not lease, just ‘here’s the deed, and y’all have a nice day’?” His snort was both rude and comical. “Hell, why didn’t they ask for a few million dollars to maintain it and keep it running?”

“They might have. I didn’t read the contract they’d had drawn up.”

“Contract?” Astonishment echoed in his voice. “Who in the world could possibly think that was even remotely—”

Something in her expression stopped him. She wasn’t sure even exactly what was on her face. A bit of a smile. Sarcasm. Finally, some little hint of amusement to go along with the dismay.

“Louise Wetherby and her cronies. Wow. I didn’t think even they were that outrageous. You told her no, didn’t you?”

“I did, which she interpreted as I needed more time before I fall in with her plans. I may have to have the lawyer tell her. Compared to me, he’s considered relatively s—”

She clamped her jaw shut so quickly that her teeth collided with an audible click. What had she been about to say? Sane? Stable? She was sane. She was stable. She’d had a problem with depression—granted, a serious couldn’t-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning, wouldn’t-have-cared-if-she-lived-or-died-if-not-for-Clary problem—but she’d just undergone severe emotional trauma. She’d lost her baby, for God’s sake.

She still had some trouble with depression. Anxiety. Uncertainty. But she took her medication, and she stayed busy, and she was perfectly fine. Functional. Able to be an independent adult and a mother.

Even though she had thought she’d seen someone in the guesthouse yesterday.

Even though she imagined the faint smell of Mark’s cologne in the house.

Even though going to Fair Winds this evening had totally creeped her out. She couldn’t have done it without Stephen.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is stubborn,” he said, giving no sign he’d thought her behavior odd. “He is a lawyer, right?