The Way They Were Read Free Page B

credenza behind him. He opened the drawer and shuffled through several folders, searching for the most current, which he removed and laid on the desk in front of him. The file tab was marked with his own bold handwriting—Kate E. Redmond. He refused to think of Kate by her married name. There were eight such files, all reports dating back as many years. He drew in a deep breath and buzzed Maxine. “Hold all my calls for the next twenty minutes.”
    “Yes, Mr. Flannigan. Even your niece’s?”
    “ Especially my niece’s.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    Click.
    Rourke ran his fingers along the tab, tracing the name on it twice before he slowly opened the folder and began to read.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
    “ We’ve got fourteen years of questions between us.”—Rourke Flannigan
     
    “He’s back.”
    Kate’s brush slipped, smearing red paint onto the gray siding of the miniature dollhouse. Damn. She snatched a rag and began dabbing at the red spot.
    “Kate?”
    She dabbed harder as if she could blot out Angie’s words. “I heard you.”
    “And?”
    Kate glanced up, proud of the outward calm she displayed when her insides were a jumble of panic. “And what?”
    “Oh for heaven’s sake, it’s me you’re talking to here, the one who sat up with you for three nights straight after that jerk left.” Angie swore under her breath and muttered, “He didn’t even have the decency to say good-bye.”
    “It was a long time ago.” Fourteen years in July.
    “Sure.”
    Angie Sorrento was a pint-size dynamo with a giant-sized temper who swore in Italian and English and could carry a grudge longer than anyone Kate had ever known. The only grudge larger than the one Angie had for Rourke Flannigan was the one relegated to the ex-fiancé who skipped out on her three days before the wedding.
    “Really, Angie. Fourteen years is ancient history.”
    Angie’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s what I’m worried about, Kate. Your history with Mr. Jerk.”
    “There’s no need to worry.” Kate dipped her brush in red and filled in the trim along the roof. This house was a four bedroom cape cod, designed for Rachel and Jared Hennessy and their seven year old twins, Jeffrey and Jason. The family had relocated from Richmond, Virginia last year so Jared could teach sophomore English and coach basketball in Montpelier. Great family—devoted couple, beautiful kids, even a golden retriever named Jed.
    Angie started up again. “Even if it weren’t ‘Mr. Holier than Thou, let me grace you with my presence in this Podunk town’ and even if said man-boy weren’t someone you’d been intimately involved with, I’d still be worried.”
    “Unnecessarily.” Kate ignored the way her pulse skittered when Angie talked about him .
    “You’re vulnerable.”
    “Stop.” Her pulse tripled.
    “You buried Clay five months ago. That makes you a lonely widow. The perfect target.”
    “You watch too many Lifetime movies.” Had he heard about Clay? That was ridiculous, how could he have heard? She had no idea where he lived and now, suddenly, he was here. Why?
    “Katie? Are you all right?”
    No, she wasn’t. She hadn’t been all right since—Kate pushed the unwelcome truth away and glanced at her friend. “I’m fine.”
    “Fine is code word for no. Look, I know you don’t want to talk about him, but there are some things you’ve got to know before this guy comes waltzing back into your life.”
    “He’s hardly waltzing back into my life.”
    “Steamrolling then. You just wait and see.”
    “We haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen.” A marriage and child ago . “We’re strangers.”
    “You were planning to marry the guy.”
    Kate set down her brush and plastered the same expression she’d worn when well-wishers patted her hand and offered prayers for strength to endure her newly-widowed state. She’d never told Clay how much he meant to her, not really and now one freakish accident had stolen her