LITMIR.BIZ

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Lucas had no evenings free. And Annie still spent every night checking inventory, studying publishers’ catalogs and reading Publishers Weekly. Her free time coincided with his only once—on Wednesday afternoon of the following week. So they agreed to meet for lunch.

      By one o’clock, when she joined him at the Chili Pepper, she was nervous and uneasy. She could see that he was, too. After they’d been seated and ordered their lunch, the conversation came in fits and starts.

      “I don’t know what it’s been like for you since your divorce,” Lucas said, shifting his silverware from one side of his plate to the other, “but since Julia died, I’ve sometimes felt starved for lack of adult conversation. At least, conversation that isn’t strictly work-related.”

      “It does get lonely,” Annie admitted.

      “For me, too,” he muttered. “That’s why...” He hesitated and glanced in her direction, as if to gauge how much to say. “It’d be good to have a friend,” he said in a rush. “Someone who understands how damned lonely it can get. I’m not looking for anything more.”

      She nodded, unsure of what else to do. He didn’t need to paint her a picture. He wanted a friend. Okay, fine. An occasional lunch date. No problem. Someone to talk to, another adult who understood. She wanted that, too, so she really had no reason to feel disappointed.

      “I’m not interested in remarrying anytime soon, if that’s what concerns you,” she told him.

      “You’re not? Great.” His relief was evident.

      “Friends,” she said and held out her hand for him to shake.

      “Friends,” he said, reaching across the table.

      Until today’s lunch, Annie hadn’t quite known what to make of Lucas Porter. She had the impression that he was a good father; his daughters clearly adored him. And the way he’d botched asking her out had actually been quite endearing.

      Once Louise Powell had spread her news at a frenzied pace, half the people in town seemed intent on telling Annie what they knew about the widowed veterinarian and how much he’d loved his wife. Each recounted tales of what he’d been like three years earlier when he arrived in Promise, grief-stricken and depressed.

      Until now, Annie had been convinced this lunch was a mistake. She’d predicted to herself that they’d spend the entire time talking about his dead wife, her illness, her sterling character. And if not her, the conversation was sure to center on his two daughters.

      But Annie was wrong. After they agreed that being friends would be the extent of their relationship, they talked about books. Both were voracious readers and had read many of the same titles. After the initial awkwardness, their discussion during lunch was lively and animated, with a friendly argument or two. For instance, he thought a particular much-hyped new author was intellectually pretentious; she disagreed. Over coffee, the conversation flowed naturally to other subjects. They discussed similar experiences they’d had and exchanged observations. They talked about how moving to Promise had changed them. Normally shy, Annie was amazed at how much they had in common and how comfortable she felt with him.

      Eventually, they talked about the ghost town some miles outside Promise. Jane had written long letters telling Annie about Bitter End and the story behind it, so Annie knew the town had been the first settlement in the area. She remembered that shortly after the Civil War, disaster had befallen Bitter End and driven all the inhabitants away. They’d established a new settlement, which they’d named Promise, and the town had flourished from then on.

      Their lunch hour flew and almost before she was aware of it, they discovered it was time to leave.

      They continued to talk as he escorted her back to Tumbleweed Books. Reluctant to part, they found their steps slowing as they reached the store.

      “I had a great time,” Annie told him at the entrance. “I only hope we lived up to the rumors Louise Powell’s been spreading about us.”

      Lucas grinned. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

      Annie smiled, too. Poor Louise was destined to be disappointed.

      “I’m kind of surprised myself,” Lucas admitted, looking mildly guilty. “I had a good time, too....”

      “Ah, so the truth is out. Enjoying yourself came as a shock, did it?”

      They stood smiling at each other until Annie finally broke eye contact. “Thanks again, Lucas.”

      “Thank you,” he said. Then, as though it was an afterthought, he leaned forward, and in full view of anyone who might be watching, kissed her cheek.

      A kiss on the cheek. Fair enough, since they’d decided they were friends and nothing more. “Bye,” she told him quickly, starting inside.

      “Annie.” Lucas stopped her, his voice urgent. “Would you...are you willing to do this again?”

      She nodded without hesitation.

      “When?”

      She gave a little shrug. “What works for you?”

      “How about now?” he asked. “I’m working tomorrow evening, so I can take the afternoon off. Just let me call my assistant first.” He paused. “You said you’d never been to Bitter End. Would you like to go?”

      “I’d love to! Give me ten minutes to change clothes and talk to Gina.” Because she was a high-school senior, Gina’s class schedule allowed her to work at the bookstore two afternoons a week. The teenager was perfectly capable of tending the store for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, Annie was intensely curious about Bitter End.

      She still remembered reading Jane’s long account of her own initial visit to Bitter End, and the eerie feeling she’d experienced when she first stepped onto the main street. As Annie recalled, Jane and Cal had had quite an adventure, complete with dramatic rescue. It was Jane who’d discovered a badly injured Richard Weston hiding out there.

      * * *

      “I’m assuming Jane told you about her experience in Bitter End?” Lucas asked as they headed out of town in his truck.

      “She wrote about finding Richard Weston there, nearly dead after the staircase in the old hotel collapsed on him.” That particular letter had been riveting. If Jane and Cal hadn’t arrived when they did, Richard would surely have died. “You’ve been there?”

      “A couple of times,” Lucas told her. “Wade McMillen’s held church services out there the last Sunday in August for the past two years. Speaking of Wade, did you know Joey McMillen was born in Bitter End?”

      “Really? A preacher’s son... Didn’t a preacher’s son die there a hundred-plus years ago? Wasn’t that the story?”

      Lucas told her what he knew of how a preacher’s son had been hanged by a group of drunken men. When the preacher discovered what had happened, he’d placed a curse on the town. In time, everyone who’d settled in Bitter End was driven away by plagues and disasters, and Bitter End had been virtually forgotten.

      Lucas parked the pickup, then led Annie through a field of bluebonnets toward a worn pathway. Holding her hand, he guided her down an embankment. Because of her injuries from the car accident, Annie proceeded cautiously, watching her step. When she looked up again, she went abruptly still at the sight of Bitter End nestled below. Two rows of buildings, mostly stone and some of wood, cut a swath through the heart of the town. A church and cemetery stood at one end, a large corral at the other, with hitching posts and water troughs. For its age, the church, which was the most prominent building in town, seemed to be in good condition. The hotel, with its second-floor balcony, appeared in the worst shape, leaning precariously as if ready to topple at any moment.

      Annie stared at the colorful array of rosebushes in bloom. She took in the other plants, some in window boxes and others in flower beds that bordered the buildings and splashed bright colors against their drab exteriors.

      “I

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