Dallas Schulze - Lovers And Other Strangers

“Darva Torkelson’s family secret rice pilaf,” someone said, and Reece looked up guiltily. “The secret is that no one knows what the orange things are, and I haven’t found anyone brave enough to actually try tasting it to find out. I’m voting for M&Ms.”

A stocky man with stoplight-red hair was standing just to his left, his blue eyes bright with amusement and…expectation? It only took a moment for the memory to snap into place.

“Frank? Frank McKinnon?”

“You know anyone else who looks like Howdy Doody on steroids?” Frank grinned and held out his hand. Reece felt memories flood over him as he shook it.

“How are you, man?”

“Good. I’m good. Is Rich here?” Reece scanned the crowd around the buffet table, looking for more of that bright-red hair. Rich McKinnon had been his best friend during the years he lived in Serenity Falls. The two of them had gone through football, detention, first dates and first cars together. They’d kept in touch for a while after Reece left town—Christmas cards, a few phone calls, but they’d gradually lost touch.

Frank shook his head. “Rich lives in Montana now. He’s a gen-u-ine cowboy.” He drew out the words with a thick Western drawl. “Got hisself a little ranch with horses and cows and all that good stuff.”

“A ranch, huh?” Reece grinned and shook his head. “What happened to becoming a world-famous wildlife photographer?”

“He found out that wildlife photographers spend a lot of time sitting in huts, freezing their privates off, waiting for a ring-necked wallaby to wander into camera range and hoping a hungry grizzly bear doesn’t wander by first.”

“I can see how that would take some of the fun out of things. How are your parents?”

Ruth and Daryl McKinnon had always treated him as if he were one of their own. They’d had a rambling old house where everything was always covered in a fine layer of plaster dust from the ongoing series of remodeling jobs that were never quite finished. Dogs, cats and kids wandered in and out in an ever-changing parade of fur and faces. It had taken him a while to figure out that only three of the kids actually belonged to the McKinnons, and he never had figured out which of the animals were theirs.

“Dad retired three years ago, and he and Mom bought an RV. They spend most of the year on the road. Kate is married and has a couple of kids. She lives in Boston now, and Rich married a woman with three kids and then they had two more so Mom and Dad divide their time among the grandchildren. They spend a couple of months here in the spring so Mom can catch up on the local gossip and Dad can make sure I’m not running the hardware store into the ground, and then they take off again.”

“Did your dad ever finish remodeling the house?” Reece asked.

Frank laughed and shook his head. “Hell, no. When we moved in, three out of four bathrooms were torn apart and the back hall was halfway through a wall-papering job.”

“And three years later, two bathrooms are still without tile and the wallpaper is up but the floor is only half-refinished,” a new voice said.

“What can I say? It’s genetic,” Frank said, his smile softening as he turned to slide one arm around the woman who’d joined them. She was small, not just short but slim, with the kind of delicate build that made Reece think of pixies. Big brown eyes set in a heart-shaped face and a tousled cap of blond hair reinforced the impression. He had the fanciful thought that if she turned he might see wings on her back. But her bright, interested expression was human and familiar. The first few times he’d seen that particular expression, he’d had the urge to check to make sure his fly was zipped or look in a mirror to see if a third eye had appeared in the middle of his forehead, but it hadn’t taken long to figure out that it wasn’t the possibility of imminent indecent exposure or extra body parts, it was just him. His mere presence was enough to elicit interest.

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