T. McClure - Deal Of A Lifetime

“They’re going in the opposite direction.”

“Aren’t you the epitome of positive thinking? Are you telling me the locals won’t stop for a couple of drowned rats in the middle of a monsoon?”

“I wouldn’t. Look what happened to me. If I hadn’t agreed to take you home—”

He stopped, indignant. “Me? You’re blaming this on me? You’re the one who took her eyes off the road to focus on a Hershey’s bar.”

Sera wheeled around. This time she gripped both shoulders with her hands and stood on her tiptoes. “Cool it with the Hershey’s bar. I wouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road...”

Nose to nose in the middle of the road, Alex had forgotten all about the oncoming vehicle until the headlights blinded him. But he could still see Sera’s wet, white face, her dark, curly hair and lips, made red by her constant biting. He heard the whir of an automatic window and then a woman’s voice. “Hey, you guys need a ride?”

Still absorbed in the stark color contrast of his companion’s face, Alex was reluctant to answer. But of course, he had to. “I do. I mean, we do.”

The side door of the van slid open. When he gripped Sera’s arm to help her into the back seat, she shot him a look. Whether of surprise or consternation he couldn’t tell in the dim light of the van. She climbed over a couple boxes and settled into a bucket seat.

The woman peeked over the front seat and reached out to shake hands. “Hi, I’m Wendy Valentine.”

Alex shook her hand. “Thanks for stopping.”

Sera leaned forward and also shook her hand. “Hey, you’re the local weather girl, aren’t you?”

With a sideways glance at the driver, Wendy laughed. “Up until last year I was. I’m on temporary assignment for an Atlanta station now.” She punched the man in the shoulder. “Josh is my driver.”

The look they shared and the ring on her left hand told Alex the young man with the dark beard was a lot more than her driver.

Peering into the rearview mirror, he spoke over his shoulder. “Josh Hunter. Where are you two headed?”

Sera responded before Alex could answer. “Not far. Last Chance Farm.”

Irritated at her attempt to control the situation, Alex spoke up. “Actually, I’m headed to Clover Hill Farms.”

Josh glanced over his shoulder. “You won’t be getting to Clover Hill Farms tonight. We can get you to Last Chance Farm, but the bridge over the creek is flooded. That’s what we were doing, getting camera footage of the bridge for the local station.” He executed a neat three-point turn and headed back in the direction from which he had come.

“Where’s your vehicle? Were you in an accident?” Wendy’s sharp eyes looked them over, presumably for signs of trauma.

“I... My truck ended up in a ditch.” Her voice lowered to a mutter. “So much for doing a good deed.”

“What did you say?” Alex looked at the woman huddled on the bucket seat, her feet propped on a suitcase on the floor. But he couldn’t see her face since she was looking out the window.

“Nothing.” Sera leaned forward. “There’s a big white mailbox at the end of the lane. You can just drop us off there.”

“I know where your farm is. Wendy’s parents’ house is a few miles farther down this road.”

The vehicle slowed as Josh turned in to the lane. Alex saw the white mailbox and then a long line of white board fence. A huge tree marked the end of the fence and then a big bush next to a small building. As Josh swung the vehicle around to the back of the big white house, the headlights lit up the earthen ramp leading to two big white barn doors. Swirling wisps of fog surrounded the cupola at the roof’s peak.

Wendy gasped. “You have a bank barn. How beautiful. You know, you can’t really see your place from the road.” When the lights hit the white brick and blue shutters of the back of the house Wendy exclaimed again. “Gorgeous! When was your house built, Sera?”

“In 1855. We don’t get much traffic out this way. Most people use the interstate.”

Alex detected a note of pride in Sera’s response. He slid open the side door. After dismounting, he turned and reached for Sera’s hand to help her over the boxes. She hesitated.

“Now you’re shy?” He felt a brief triumph as her cheeks pinked.

She took his hand but directed her comments to the couple in the front seat. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” Josh called out to them. The sliding door shut on its own, and Alex stood in the foggy mist with Sera, watching the van disappear down the drive.

“So the bridge over the creek is flooded and my cousin’s place is on the other side.” He turned and observed the big white barn building almost evaporating into the mist. “I can stay in the barn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She led the way to a trellis leading into a fenced-in yard. A cobblestone path extended to the back porch. Sera mounted the steps and pulled open the screen door. She pushed on the door with her shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

Alex, reluctant to follow and still hoping his cousin would somehow miraculously appear, was only halfway down the path. He watched as she bumped the door with her hip. “Is it locked?”

She gave him a look as if she thought he wasn’t very bright, then shook her head. “The door sticks when it rains.” The third time she used her entire body to slam the door, which finally opened. Hand on the doorknob, she stopped, then looked back over her shoulder. “I should warn you. I have a dog. He’s not fond of strangers.”

Alex walked to the foot of the wooden steps and hesitated. He noticed her knit brow and turned-down lips and wondered what in the heck he was getting into. “Really.”

She glanced away, avoiding his eyes. “Don’t make any sudden moves around him, okay?”

He nodded, but the effort was lost. She was definitely avoiding his gaze. “What kind of dog?”

“Saint Bernard.”

He pictured a big, stout animal with a barrel fastened under his chin. “What’s his name?”

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips twitched. “Cujo.”

CHAPTER THREE

SERA DIDN’T USUALLY run in the rain, but the stranger currently occupying the bed in the spare room had thrown her. After a restless night and knowing a stranger slept under her roof, she needed to think. And the best place to think was outside. She stood on the porch and breathed deep of the chilly, damp air. Gray clouds hung low over the fields. She couldn’t tell if the rain was over or if there was more to come.

“What do you think? Is it clearing up?” She glanced at her companion.

A tall, skinny mongrel with a coat the color of slate gazed up with concern. At the distant rumble of thunder, the dog turned and pressed his nose to the door. Of her two dogs, the animal who had appeared just the summer before was the more skittish one.

“The thunder’s moving away, Lucky.” But she opened the door and let him into the house, where he would disappear into the den and hide under the grand piano. Sera stretched and bounced down the stairs. She needed this run. It would relax her. She jogged through the arch and ran past the shed where she parked the truck. The empty space reminded her she had to figure out how to retrieve the old pickup from the ditch. The brushy branches of the big mock orange bush next to the building showed just a hint of green. Soon the shrub would be covered with thousands of snow-white blossoms and perfume the air with their sweet scent.

She ran past the field where tiny green shoots poked through the dark soil. Sweet corn was one of her most profitable crops. Few people grew their own, but most still loved the traditional sweet corn for summer picnics. She breathed deep of the damp air and continued her steady pace. She wondered if the newcomer was awake yet and how soon Cy Carter would arrive to claim his long-lost relative. Her breaths came shorter as she started up the incline to the top of the hill. Leaving the bare fields behind, she slowed and then stopped in the orchard. Fog shrouded the bare apple trees, but at least the rain had stopped. Usually at this point she could see Little Bear Creek, but fog hung so thick over the valley she couldn’t see the bottom of the hill.