“I tell people that we’re as good as a fertility clinic. They... They...” She was drifting off. “People think I can’t keep secrets but I do. I haven’t told the mayor that you’re living with Terri. That counts, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Nate mumbled, and he saw that she had at last fallen asleep.
It took Nate several moments to recover from the anger he’d kept inside as he’d heard what the woman said. Whatever the truth was behind a high school breakup, Della Kissel had magnified it into something horrible—and years later she was making sure the flames kept burning. Bad things had happened to the Rayburn family, but instead of comfort and support, they’d had to deal with Della’s snide innuendos and her endless prying into painful wounds.
As Nate stood up and looked down at the little woman, he shook his head. What in the world had caused her to become so miserable that she wanted to take everyone down with her?
He left her on the couch. She was small so it fit her and the huge silk garment would keep her warm.
Outside, he felt as though he’d left a den of poison, as though an evil smoke was curling through the place, seeping into every crevice, into every pore of his skin.
He drove back to Terri’s house and got out of the car. The doors and windows were open and there was music and laughter, but he didn’t go inside. He leaned against his car and breathed deeply of the cool night air. If there weren’t a houseful of people, he’d strip off and go swimming in the lake. Maybe the water would help to clean the inside of his mind.
“I see you’ve met Della.”
Nate wasn’t surprised to see Frank Cannon stepping out of the dark. He didn’t have on his sheriff’s uniform, just jeans, and a T-shirt that said he’d been conceived at Woodstock. “I did.”
“I saw you plying her with drink, then volunteering to drive her home. No one willingly spends time with her unless they want to know something. So what was your question? About Stacy or Terri?”
“I wanted to know about Billy Thorndyke.”
“Ah. Right. How our Terri dumped the golden boy?”
Nate could hear anger in Frank’s voice. He’d seen that the man loved Terri, so it was understandable. “I don’t get it,” Nate said. “A high school breakup is blamed for ‘ruining’ some kid’s life? And a girl’s shove to a footballer ‘ruined’ his life? Why is Terri being blamed for these things that are blown way out of proportion?”
“Leslie,” Frank answered. “It all comes from her.”
“If Della is to be believed, she was the Slut of Summer Hill.” It was dark, but from the light of the house, Nate could see anger flash in Frank’s eyes.
“She wasn’t,” he managed to say. “Della Kissel wanted Brody, but Leslie got him.” He took a few breaths to calm down. “You heard Della’s jealous version of the story, so anytime you want to hear the truth, come to me. I have files.”
“I’m not a mystery solver,” Nate said. “I’m going to marry a lovely young woman, open a branch of my family’s investment firm and start a family. That’s all.”
“I understand,” Frank said. “And that goal led you to get Della drunk, take her home and ask her a lot of questions. But I can assure you that the truth of Leslie Rayburn is much more interesting than what Della Kissel tells. Not that I know it all. My contacts are too limited to find out much. But one thing I did discover is that Leslie didn’t exist before she arrived in Summer Hill.”
“I don’t—”
“I know!” Frank put up his hand. “You don’t want to be involved. You had all that with Kit. He told us enough about his life that I know what you two did. Now you’re what? Thirty-five? Six? You want to retire and make babies. I want to retire and fish and read cowboy stories. We all have our dreams. But in the end, we do what we can.” He took a few steps toward the house but turned back. “Let me give you some advice. Don’t mention Leslie to either Brody or Terri. And Billy is taboo to her. You start opening your mouth and you’ll find yourself thrown out of the house, out of the friendship, and no longer welcome at the lake. You got that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Nate said.
“Hope you have a happy life, kid. That new office of yours sure