Debbie Macomber - Summer in Orchard Valley - Valerie / Stephanie / Norah

“I gather she didn’t have much choice.”

“Don’t you think you should be making some inquiries?” he asked gruffly.

“I already have. Tell me who else I should call and I’ll be happy to do so.”

Charles settled down on the top porch step, resting both elbows on his knees. “I have to tell you, Valerie, I’m worried. She should’ve been here before now.”

“I know.”

“I have some friends, some connections,” Charles said absently, “and I’ve checked with them. But they can’t find any trace of her on the flights scheduled out of Rome. If she isn’t here by tomorrow afternoon, I don’t think you have any alternative but to contact the authorities.”

Valerie swallowed tightly, then nodded. She could slap Steff silly for putting them through all this worry.

“She’s okay, Charles,” Valerie said after a moment.

“What makes you so sure?” He turned to look up at her.

“I … don’t know, I just am.”

Charles stood agilely, his gaze leveled on the long narrow driveway that led in from the road. “I hope you’re right, Valerie. I hope you’re right.”

Valerie hoped so, too. And she wondered if his concern for Stephanie meant as much as she thought it did.

Norah came back from the hospital a half hour later, talkative and lively. “I can’t get over how much Dad’s improved in such a short time.”

Valerie took the shrimp salad she’d prepared for their dinner from the refrigerator. Salads were her specialty. That, and folding napkins. She could do both without a hitch.

For the first time since her arrival, Valerie had spent most of the day away from the hospital. When her father had suggested she leave, she’d initially felt a bit annoyed. But as she revisited the life that had once been hers in this quiet community, she accepted the wisdom of his advice. She had needed to get out, to breathe in the serenity she found in Orchard Valley and exhale the fear that had choked her from the moment she’d received Norah’s frantic message. Then, after her walk, she’d come back to the house, and because she’d never been idle in her life, she’d set up a communications center in her father’s den.

“I’m going back to work, starting tomorrow,” Norah announced between bites of lettuce, shrimp and slices of hard-boiled egg. “The hospital’s understaffed, but then when isn’t it? I’ll still be able to see Dad, maybe even more often than before. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind. You do whatever you think best.”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Norah asked, rushing the words. “I wouldn’t do this if the hospital didn’t need me so badly.”

“I realize that.”

Norah took another forkful of salad. “You’re quiet tonight. Is anything wrong?”

“Not really.” She didn’t want to worry Norah about Steffie’s disappearance.

“Colby asked about you.”

She felt her stomach churn with contradictory emotions. Part of her was thrilled that he’d even mentioned her, yet she experienced a growing sense of apprehension.

“He wanted to know where you were.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Of course,” Norah answered blithely. “He said he thought it was a good idea for you to get out of the hospital more. You’ve practically been living there ever since you arrived.” She slowly chewed another bite of her salad. “He asked me what I knew about Rowdy Cassidy,” she said.

Valerie put down her fork, her appetite having fled. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That I’ve never met the man, but Dad seems to think he’s wonderful. You probably weren’t aware of this, but Dad’s been following CHIPS ever since you started working there. He thinks Rowdy’s a genius. Funny, though—I got the impression that wasn’t what Colby wanted to hear.”

“The shrimp was on sale at Vern’s Market,” Valerie said, changing the subject abruptly, not wanting to talk about Colby. Not now when she felt so vulnerable, so conscious of the attraction between them. “Vern said he cooked it himself this morning.”

“You don’t want to talk about Colby?”

Valerie grinned. Her sister hadn’t graduated magna cum laude for nothing.

“You’re not going anyplace tonight, are you?” Norah asked next.

“I thought I’d drive in to the hospital and visit Dad, but other than that, no. Do you need me to do something?”

Norah shrugged. “I may be wrong, but I think Colby wanted to talk to you. I have a feeling he might call.”

Norah was right.

When Valerie returned from her trip to the hospital, her sister had left a note taped to her bedroom door.

COLBY PHONED. SAID HE’D TALK TO YOU IN THE MORNING.

Valerie read the message with mixed feelings. Thrill and dread went at it for round two, again evenly matched. She determined to forget everything—love, Colby, the future—for tonight. The morning would be soon enough to resume her worries. She craved the forgetfulness of sleep, the escape from thought and feeling.

Valerie had assumed she’d fall asleep with the same ease she had the previous night. For a solid hour she beat her pillow, tossed and turned in an effort to find a comfortable position. Finally giving up, she reached for the light on the bedside table and read until her eyes closed and the business journal slipped from her fingers.

But Valerie’s exhausted sleep wasn’t the restful oblivion she’d longed for. Colby wandered into her dreams like an uninvited guest.

He looked handsome, dressed in the suit he’d worn the night he’d taken her to the Italian restaurant.

“You’re not going to be able to forget me, are you?”

In her dream, Valerie said nothing, but only because she had no argument. She merely stared at him, adoring every feature, every movement.

A noise disturbed her, distracting her from Colby. Irritated, she looked over her shoulder to see what it was and when she looked back, he was gone. She cried out in frustration, the sound of her own voice jerking her awake. She was sitting upright in the bed, heart pounding furiously.

It took her another moment to realize there was some sort of commotion going on downstairs. She climbed out of bed and grabbed her robe.

From the top of the stairs, she saw Norah, laughing and crying at once. A battered suitcase stood on the floor, along with a leather coat and an umbrella.

“Steffie!” Valerie cried excitedly, racing down the stairs.

Her sister was home.

Colby picked up the clipboard at the foot of David Bloomfield’s bed, scanning the notations the nursing staff had written through the night. Although his eyes were lowered, he couldn’t help being aware of David Bloomfield’s cocky grin.

“You must be feeling more like your old self this morning,” he observed genially.

David’s smile widened. “I’m feeling more chipper each and every day. How much longer do you intend to keep me prisoner here? I’m itching to get home.”

“Another week,” Colby answered, replacing the clipboard. “Perhaps less, depending on how well you do.”

“A week!” David protested. “Are you sure you aren’t holding me up just so you’ll have an excuse to visit with Valerie?”

Colby’s hackles rose, and he was about to defend his medical judgment when he realized the old man was baiting him—and enjoying it.

“I’m going to have you transferred out of the Surgical Intensive Care Unit this morning,” Colby continued, “but first I want you up and walking.”

“I’ve been up.”

Colby glanced back at the chart, surprised to see no indication of the activity.

“I just didn’t let anyone know. I felt a bit dizzy, so I only walked around the bed. Not much of a trip, but it tired me out plenty.”