It sounded so much more appealing than dinner with her father and Marshall, but she quelled the urge to accept. 'I'm sorry. I have plans for that night.'
'I don't believe you, but that's okay. I'll try another time.'
'That won't be necessary, T-was She caught herself just short of pronouncing his name.
'I know. But I'll try just the same.' Then he ended softly, 'Bye, Rachel.'
'Good-bye.'
Verda followed every motion as Rachel hung up the phone and slipped her large, squarish reading glasses back on her nose.
'Well, who was it?' the clerk asked point-blank.
Rachel managed to exude an air of total
indifference as she relaxed against the chair 117 with one slim wrist draped over its rim. 'Oh, just someone I knew years ago who heard of Owen's death and wanted to express his sympathies.'
'That's not what it sounded like to me. It sounded like somebody asking you out on a date.'
'A date?' Rachel pushed her glasses low and peered at Verda over their rims, hoping she didn't look as shaken as she was by the sound of his voice. 'A date? With a widow of less than two months? Don't be silly, Verda.' Then she returned to her study of the calendar and the market announcement. 'I'll make my flight reservations this afternoon.' The subject of the phone call was set aside while they discussed the upcoming trip.
But that afternoon when Rachel made her three forty-five walk to the bank, Tommy Lee was standing in the doorway of his office building as she passed on the opposite side of the street. When she saw him, her navy-blue high heels came to an abrupt halt and she clutched the zippered bank pouch more tightly against her ribs. She'd been passing his office for ten years, and the few
times he'd happened to come out while she was directly across the street he'd moved to his car with no indication of having seen her.
He raised a palm now, silently. While she acknowledged it with a silent nod, she mentally calculated how many people up and down Jackson Avenue might have witnessed the exchange. Then she hurried on, breathing freely only when she reached the comparative safety of the bank lobby. From inside, she turned to see if he was still there. He was, studying the bank steps, his expression unreadable from this distance. He found a cigarette, lit it, tossed his head back in that masculine way she sometimes pictured when she thought of him- late at night when she couldn't sleep-and turned, then disappeared into his office.
Rachel spun around, her eyes zeroing in on her father's glass-walled office. He was sitting behind his desk, watching her with a disapproving look on his face. Had he seen Tommy Lee? A disquieting memory came back to her at that moment. She'd heard it said that when Tommy Lee graduated from college and returned to Russellville to set up his business, he had come to the bank to apply for a small-business
loan, and her father had personally seen to it 119 that Tommy Lee's application was turned down. Odd that the recollection had come back after all these years.
Her father watched her like an eagle as she turned toward the teller's window to make her daily deposit. She felt his eyes auguring into her shoulderblades and became angry that he should still have a modicum of control over her where Tommy Lee was concerned.
But when her business was completed, she squared her shoulders, put on a false bright smile, and clicked into his glass office, seeking to confirm their Friday night date so she wouldn't feel tempted to take Tommy Lee up on his invitation after all.
'Hi, Daddy. Are we still on for Friday night?'
'Of course. Just as usual.'
But Friday night sounded more lackluster than ever. Stepping back onto the sidewalk to make her return walk to Panache, Rachel glanced immediately to the red-brick building half a block away. But Tommy Lee had not come back. His car was parked out front, though, and she had the
disturbing feeling he was watching her through the window.
The following day Rachel was folding some silk scarves at the jewelry display case when she absently glanced up to see the tail end of a white Cadillac cruising by at a sloth's speed. Her heart seemed to slam into her throat and she snapped a glance at Verda. But Verda was busy with a customer and hadn't noticed.
Tommy Lee Gentry, don't you dare!
If only he drove some mundane mid-size car in everybody's blue! But everyone in town could count the times he cruised past in that Cadillac. And if he started making a habit of it, what would she do?
Before two days were up she understood… he'd started to make a habit of it. How many times had she glanced up to see the car easing along the street at far less than the thirty-mile-an- hour speed limit? Adolescent tactics! Yet each time she saw it her heart fluttered and she felt hot and weak.
On Friday when she stepped out of the bank with the empty pouch in her hand, she again came up short. There he was, on her side of the street, visiting casually with three other businessmen as if
they'd just happened to meet on the 121 sidewalk. The quartet broke up just as Rachel stepped abreast of them. Tommy Lee turned and fell into step beside her quite naturally.
'Well, hello, Mrs. Hollis.'
'Hello, Tommy Lee.'
'You're looking exceptionally pretty today.'
She walked a little faster and kept her voice low. 'Tommy Lee, what on earth are you trying to prove, waiting to ambush me on the street? And who do you think you're fooling, calling me Mrs. Hollis when everyone in town knows we grew up on Cotako Street side by side!'
He grinned down charmingly. 'Sorry, then. Hello, Rachel, you're looking exceptionally pretty today.'
Good Lord, how long had it been since she'd blushed? But it was impossible to be unaffected by his nearness, his compliments. 'Tommy Lee, stop it! And stop driving past my store at five miles an hour ten times a day!'
'Today I only drove past six times. Can I see you sometime this weekend?'
'No, I have plans.'
'I don't believe you, Rachel. And if you
don't want me to grab your elbow and drag you to a stop you'd better do it yourself and act as if you're giving me a civil time-of-day.' They were directly across the street from his office now, and Rachel obediently halted, then lifted her flustered eyes to his. 'Who are you going to see tonight?' Tommy Lee demanded, standing before her with both hands in his trouser pockets, shirtsleeves rolled to mid-forearm and tie loosened over an open top button. Looking up at him gave her that strange familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach, just like years ago when he'd stop her this way in the halls at school. It struck her that he was handsomer than either Owen or Marshall, though the thought appeared out of nowhere to rankle her.
'My daddy. He's taking me to dinner in Florence.'
'Oh.' He scowled, glanced toward the bank and thrust his lips out in a peculiarly attractive fashion.
'Yes. Oh. I can hardly tell him I'm sorry but I'm breaking our date to go out with Tommy Lee Gentry, can I?'
'What about tomorrow? The water's up enough that we could go out on the boat.'
It sounded absolutely wonderful. 123 'Tomorrow I'm working. I gave Verda the day off.'
'Sunday, then.'
'Sunday I'm going to church. You remember church, don't you, Tommy Lee? That big red-brick building down there on the corner where you used to go?' It was as close to snide as Rachel had ever come as she pointed to the First Baptist, several blocks away. But the more she was exposed to him, the harder she had to fight to remind herself that he wasn't exactly parlor fare anymore.
'Sunday afternoon?'
She sighed heavily and looked slightly crestfallen. 'I'm sorry, Tommy Lee. I can't see you. Please don't ask me again.'
Their eyes locked for several electric seconds; then Rachel resolutely turned and continued down the street.
That night over supper she was distracted and forlorn. Everett and Marshall carried on a dull conversation about how investment institutions were slowly usurping the bank's role as chief money holder for many private individuals. While Everett expounded on the droll subject, Rachel tried to keep her mind off Tommy
Lee, but he slipped into her thoughts time and again. I could have been with him at this very moment. She
