Sultry

Lindsay could hear the disappointment in Mary Jane’s tone, which strengthened her resolve not to let her friend down. But most of all, not to let herself down. “No, I’m not.”

“Praise the Lord!” Mary Jane exclaimed.

“Shush,” Lindsay whispered, looking around to see if anyone had heard M.J.

“Ah, you worry too much about what other people think. But you come by that honestly. That’s Cooper’s modus operandi.”

“And Tim’s.”

“Like father, like son. What can I say?”

“So will you help me?” Lindsay asked. “If this idea comes to fruition, I’m going to need lots of volunteers.” Her features sobered. “Actually, I’m going to need a lot of everything.”

“What do you mean, if?”

Lindsay’s eyes clouded. “You know how hard it is for me to buck Daddy.”

“Dammit, Lindsay, he’s dominated you long enough.”

“I know. But I’ve spent so many years pleasing him that it’s hard to stop now.”

“But now is the time to stop. This idea is great. When you talk about it, your face lights up, which is something I haven’t seen since you—” Mary Jane broke off, then added, “Never mind about that.”

“I know you’re right.” Lindsay took a deep breath. “It’s just that I wanted Daddy’s approval, as well as his help.”

“I’ll jump aboard, that’s for sure. What about Tim? Do you think he’d help?”

“Are you kidding? He’s got too many problems of his own to care about anyone else.”

Mary Jane’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

“For months I’ve had all these ideas dancing around in my head like sugarplums. Now I’m ready to put them on the computer and get officially organized.”

“Do you think Cooper’ll try and sabotage the project?”

Lindsay sipped on the cup of fresh coffee the waitress had just poured, all the while staring at Mary Jane over the rim, a pensive look on her face.

“He might.”

“Well, you can’t let him, you hear?”

“All he wants is for me to marry Peter, live in the big house and have babies.”

Mary Jane harrumphed. “God, what a miserable existence.”

“I agree.”

“If I had to wake up and see Peter’s head on the pillow next to mine, I’d puke.”

Lindsay grinned. “As always, you’re the best tonic I could ever hope to have.”

“You go, girl. Don’t let Daddy shift your gears. You take this project and run with it.”

“Just pray I don’t chicken out,” Lindsay said, Cooper’s scandalized face popping to the forefront of her mind.

“You won’t,” Mary Jane said with airy confidence. “I’m not going to let you.” She peered at her watch. “Oops! Gotta go or I’ll be pounding the pavement looking for a new job.” She grinned as she gave Lindsay a hug. “I’m counting on you to hang tough.”

Later that same afternoon, Lindsay was trying to do just that, only to find her self-confidence in jeopardy, especially after she came home and turned on the computer. To raise money, to round up volunteers—to co-ordinate a project of such magnitude—suddenly seemed overwhelming.

Nonetheless, she had no intention of throwing in the towel until she had at least tried. Her game plan was to officially start the ball rolling in the morning. First she would talk to two very influential people whom she not only considered friends but who had the financial means to help fund the project. Next on her agenda was to approach the local junior college, which she hoped would become part of the triad that included the women’s shelter and her proposed facility.

Her palms turned sweaty as her faltering self-confidence soared into full-blown panic. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she failed?

Simple. Daddy would win.

Everything inside Lindsay cringed at such a thought. She pushed her chair back from the computer screen and rubbed her eyes. It was at times like this, when she was tired and discouraged, that she tended to think about her mother—missing her, reflecting on what her life might have been had Emily Newman lived.

More than that, Lindsay wondered if her own troubled past would always overshadow and undermine her future. Was she emotionally able to tackle such a task? Would she crash and burn again?

Like mother, like daughter?

Suddenly her eyes drifted toward her mother’s cedar chest, positioned at the foot of her bed. Every so often she opened it and fingered Emily’s personal items. The only item she hadn’t touched was the stack of letters from her mother’s best friend, who was also deceased.

Someday she planned to read them, hoping to better understand the woman she had called Mother.

Feeling her dissatisfaction and restlessness reach a dangerous level, Lindsay jumped up, changed into her workout clothes and bounded downstairs.

“I’m going to run,” she told Dolly, who was in the kitchen making a peach cobbler.

Dolly sniffed. “When you finish, I expect you back for a bowl of cobbler and ice cream.”

“I just might do that.”

“Huh!” Dolly snorted. “You best stop telling stories, child. The Lord’s gonna get you for sure.”

Lindsay’s only response was to plant a kiss on Dolly’s chubby cheek.

“It’s still too hot for you to be out there.”

“Love you,” Lindsay called over her shoulder.

Dolly’s satisfied grunt followed her out the door, where she instantly froze. Dear Lord, not again. Mitch Rawlins, along with his crew, was working the huge flower beds next to the porch.

When he saw her, his eyes locked on her, and for a long moment, blue met brown. Lindsay swallowed, but it was hard. The saliva inside her mouth seemed to have dried up, leaving it feeling like she’d been munching on cotton.

“Afternoon,” he said in his low, gravelly drawl. “We’re gonna have to stop meeting like this, you know.”

Lindsay stood transfixed, unable to take her eyes off his sweat-glistened chest. “Uh, right,” she finally managed to get out, mortified by her obvious confusion.