Нора Робертс - Chasing Fire

“That’s a good answer, without answering,” Lucas decided.

“Do you want to try her out?” Gull offered the key.

“Hey!” Rowan made a grab for them, missing as Gull closed his hand. “How come he rates?”

“He’s Iron Man.”

Rowan hooked her thumbs in her pockets. “He said I had to sleep with him before I could drive it.”

Gull sent her smirk a withering look. “She declined.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I wouldn’t mind giving her a run. I’ll take a rain check on it since I’ve got to get along.”

“Can’t you stay awhile?” Rowan asked. “We can hang out a little. You can stay and mooch dinner.”

“I wish I could, but I’ve got a couple of things to see to, then I’m meeting a client for a drink—a meeting. An appointment.”

Rowan slid off her sunglasses. “A client?”

“Yeah. Yeah. She’s, ah, got some project she wants to talk to me about, and she’s interested in trying for AFF. So I guess we’re going to talk about it. That. Anyway... I’ll get back over soon, mooch that dinner off you. Maybe try out that machine of yours, Gull.”

“Anytime.”

Lucas took Rowan’s chin in his hand. “See you later.”

She watched him get in the truck, watched him drive away.

“Meeting, my ass.”

Gull opened the nose to maneuver the hamper out. “Sorry?”

“He’s got a date. With a woman.”

“Wow! That’s shocking news. I think my heart skipped a beat.”

“He doesn’t date.” Rowan continued to scowl as her father’s truck shrunk in the distance. “He’s all fumbling and flustered around women, if he’s attracted. Didn’t you see how flustered he was when he talked about his appointment ? And who the hell is she?”

“It’s hard, but you’ve got to let the kids leave the nest someday.”

“Oh, kiss ass. His brain goes to mush when he’s around a certain type of woman, and he can be manipulated.”

Fascinated with her reaction, Gull leaned on his car. “It’s just a wild shot, but it could be he’s going to meet a woman he’s attracted to, and who has no intention of manipulating him. And they’ll have a drink and conversation.”

“What the hell do you know?” she challenged, and stomped off toward the barracks.

Amused, Gull hauled the basket back to Marg.

He’d no more than set it down on the counter when someone tapped knuckles on the outside door.

“Excuse me. Margaret Colby?”

Gull gave the man a quick summing-up—dark suit with a tightly knotted tie in dark, vivid pink, shiny shoes, hair the color of ink brushed back from a high forehead.

Marg stood where she was. “That’s right.”

“I’m Reverend Latterly.”

“I remember you from before, from Irene and Dolly.”

Catching her tone, and the fact she didn’t invite the man in, Gull decided to stick around.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

“You can, but you’re wasting your breath and my time if you’re here to ask me to try to convince Michael Little Bear to let Dolly Brakeman back in this kitchen.”

“Mrs. Colby.” He came in without invitation, smiled, showing a lot of big white teeth.

Gull decided he didn’t like the man’s tie, and helped himself to a cold can of ginger ale.

“If I could just have a moment in private.”

“We’re working.” She shot a warning glance at Lynn before the woman could ease out of the room. “This is as private as you’re going to get.”

“I know you’re very busy, and cooking for so many is hard work. Demanding work.”

“I get paid for it.”

“Yes.” Latterly stared at Gull, let the silence hang.

In response, Gull leaned back on the counter, drank some ginger ale. And made Marg’s lips twitch.

“Well, I wanted a word with you as you’re Dolly’s direct supervisor and—”

“Was,” Marg corrected.

“Yes. I’ve spoken with Mr. Little Bear, and I understand his reluctance to forgive Dolly’s transgression.”

“You call it a transgression. I call it snake-bite mean.”

Latterly spread his hands, then linked them together for a moment like a man at prayer. “I realize it’s a difficult situation, and there’s no excuse for Dolly’s behavior. But she was naturally upset after Miss Tripp threatened her and accused her of... having low morals.”

“Is that Dolly’s story?” Marg just shook her head, as much pity as disgust in the movement. “The girl lies half the time she opens her mouth. If you don’t know that, you’re not a very good judge of character. And I’d think that’d be an important skill to have in your profession.”

“As Dolly’s spiritual advisor—”

“Just stop there because I’m not overly interested in Dolly’s spirit. She’s had a mean on for Rowan as long as I’ve known her. She’s always been jealous, always wanted what somebody else had. She’s not coming back here, not getting another chance to kick at Rowan. Now, L.B. runs this base, but I run this kitchen. If he took it into his head to let Dolly back in here, he’d be looking for another head cook and he knows it.”

“That’s a very hard line.”

“I call it common sense. The girl can cook, but she’s wild, unreliable, and she’s a troublemaker. I can’t help her.”

“She is troubled, still trying to find her way. She’s also raising an infant on her own.”

“She’s not on her own,” Marg corrected. “I’ve known her mother since we were girls, and I know Irene and Leo are doing all they can for Dolly. Probably more than they should, considering. Now you’re going to have to excuse me.”

“Would you, at least, write a reference for her? I’m sure it would help her secure another position as a cook.”

“No, I won’t.”

Gull judged the shock that crossed the man’s face as sincere. Very likely the reverend wasn’t used to a flat-out no.

“As a Christian woman—”

“Who said I’m a Christian?” She jabbed a finger at him now, pointedly enough to take him back a step. “And how come that’s some sort of scale on right and wrong and good and bad? I won’t write her a reference because my word and my reputation mean something to me. You advise her spirit all you want, but don’t come into my kitchen and try advising me on mine. Dolly made her choices, now she’ll deal with the consequences of them.”

She took a step forward, and those hazel eyes breathed fire. “Do you think I haven’t heard what she’s been saying about Rowan around town? About me, L.B., even little Lynn there? About everybody? I hear everything, Reverend Jim, and I won’t give a damn thing to anyone who lies about me and mine. If it wasn’t for her mother, I’d give Dolly Brakeman a good swift kick myself.”

“Gossip is—”

“What plumps the grapes on the vine. If you want to do her a favor, tell Dolly to mind her mouth. Now I’ve got work to do, and I’ve given you and Dolly enough of my time.”

Deliberately she turned back to the stove.

“I apologize for intruding.” He spoke stiffly now, and without the big-toothed smile. “I’ll pray the anger leaves your heart.”

“I like my anger right where it is,” Marg shot back as Latterly backed out the door. “Lynn, those vegetables aren’t going to prep themselves.”

“No, ma’am.”

On a sigh, Marg turned around. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know. I wish I had the courage to talk like that to people—to say exactly what I think and mean.”

“No, you don’t. You’re fine just the way you are. I just didn’t like the sanctimonious prick.” She aimed a look at Gull. “Nothing to say?”

“Just he’s a sanctimonious prick with too many teeth and an ugly tie. My only critique of your response is I think you should have told him you were a Buddhist woman, or maybe a Pagan.”