back to the house in the limousine, Jess couldn’t banish the surge of affection for Lucas that had come over her in his office. Heaven only knew, she’d tried. Not only had he not been embarrassed by her mother, but he’d given her a “job.” Even as harried and exhausted as he was.
Darn you, Lucas Brand, she complained inwardly. The last thing I want in this world is to harbor tender thoughts about you! Why aren’t you the cold-blooded jerk you pretend to be?
BUT HARBOR TENDER thoughts she did, even though, for the next two days, Lucas kept his distance. She’d felt a completely illogical disappointment about that.
Tonight was the hayride, and Lucas and Jess were chaperons on the second wagon. She knew the less time she spent with him the better it would be for her mental health in the long run. But she kept dwelling on the fact that he’d have to be near her for several hours, and her heart thrilled. Unfortunately, Mamie had decided to ride along, so Jess tried not to get her hopes too high.
Surprisingly enough, after Mamie’s sojourn in Lucas’s office, she’d begun to behave better. She’d taken over as a sort of “warden of etiquette” at mealtimes. To the amusement of the volunteers, Mamie gave spirited lectures on table manners, utensil placement and the proper rendering of thank-you notes. Even though she became confused sometimes as to which meal was which, she was more an asset than a hindrance, and the kids seemed to find her a strange but interesting addition.
Mamie dressed like a proper president’s wife, and continued to harangue Jess about her “vulgar” choice of clothing. But oddly enough, the kids appeared to feel better about themselves at the very idea that they, one day, might have to write a thank-you note to the governor for a “lovely time.” It was true that one former Oklahoma governor and a current United States congressman, were products of the Mr. Niceguy program. So, who really knew what might happen one day? If nothing else, it wouldn’t kill the teens to be able to write a proper thank-you note or identify a shrimp fork.
Seven o’clock rolled around, and Jess was emotionally torn about sharing anything so intimate as a ten-foot-long hay wagon with Lucas—rolling along under a pale gold lovers’ moon. Would he talk to her? Maybe even smile?
Soon enough, she discovered she needn’t have worried. Mamie had made it her duty to station Lucas at the front and Jess at the back, while she took a post in the middle. That way, her mother explained, they could all keep a sharper eye on any “potentially immoral” activities that might get started beneath the blankets.
Jess and Lucas didn’t speak two words to each other, or share so much as a glance, all the way to the site of the bonfire and weenie roast. Around nine, the scent of burned weenies redolent in the air, Jess realized her mother was missing. “Oh, no,” she moaned, glancing frantically around. Mamie had insisted on wearing a three-piece tweed suit and low-heeled pumps—her idea of casual clothing. If she got lost in the woods, she’d freeze before morning.
Catching Bertha Kornblum by a coat sleeve, she whispered, “Mother’s disappeared. I’m going to look around. She gets disoriented so quickly.”
Bertha nodded. “Don’t go far. Even with the moon, the woods are pretty black.”
Nodding, Jess caught a glimpse of Lucas. He was at the makeshift condiment table—a blanket spread over the back of a hay wagon—smiling and talking with Jack and Annie. Though Lucas looked tired, he appeared to be relaxed and was clearly enjoying himself. While Jess watched, the dog, Moron, scampered up, and stole a weenie out of Jack’s bun. Jess heard Lucas’s deep laughter and felt strangely desolate. All she craved was a simple smile from the man. Why, she wondered, must she care? Remembering she needed to locate her mother, she headed into the woods. “Mother?” she called softly, not wanting to alert the others until it became absolutely necessary. “Mother? Where are you?”
Jess reached a stream, and was amazed to recognize the spot. It was near that quaint white cottage. She peered around. Yes, there was the darned branch that had scraped her off Snowflake the other day. Instinctively, she headed for the natural bridge formed by a fallen tree that spanned the creek.
“Mother?” she called again, stepping onto the trunk. “For heaven’s sake, this is no time to go wandering off.” A voice inside