Kate Logan arrived promptly at ten. She wore tight-fitting jeans, red checkered western shirt and a white silk scarf knotted at her throat. Her long honey-colored hair was woven into thick braids that fell over her shoulders. At first glance, Kate looked closer to sixteen than the twenty-four Rorie knew her to be.
Kate greeted her with a warm smile. “Rorie, there wasn’t any need to wear something so nice. I should’ve told you to dress casually.”
Rorie’s shoulders slumped. “I brought along more dresses than jeans. Am I overdressed? I could change,” she said hesitantly.
“Oh, no, you look lovely…” But for the first time, Kate seemed worried. The doubt that played across her features would have been amusing if Rorie hadn’t already been suffering from such a potent bout of guilt. It was all too obvious that Kate viewed Rorie as a threat.
If Clay Franklin had chosen that moment to walk into the kitchen, Rorie would’ve called him every foul name she could think of. She was furious with him for doing this to her—and to Kate.
“I wear a lot of dresses because of my job at the library,” Rorie rushed to explain. “I also date quite a bit. I’ve been seeing someone—Dan Rogers—for a while now. In fact, it’s his car I was driving.”
“You’re dating someone special?” Kate asked, sounding relieved.
“Yes, Dan and I’ve been going out for several months.”
Mary coughed noisily and sent Rorie an accusing glare; Rorie ignored her. “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”
“Oh, sure, any time you’re ready.” When they were outside, Kate turned to face Rorie. Looking uncomfortable, she slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ve embarrassed you and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t trust you and Clay.”
“There’s no need for an apology. I’m sure I wouldn’t react any differently if Clay was my fiancé.”
Kate shook her head. “But I feel as if I should apologize. I’m not going to be the kind of wife Clay wants if I can’t trust him around a pretty girl once in a while.”
Had the earth cracked open just then, Rorie would gladly have fallen in. That had to be preferable to looking at Kate and feeling the things she did about Clay Franklin.
“Don’t have any worries about me,” she said, dismissing the issue as nonchalantly as she could. “I’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a day or two.”
“Oh, Rorie, please, I don’t want you to rush off because I had a silly attack of jealousy. Now I feel terrible.”
“Don’t, please. I have to leave… I want to leave. My vacation’s on hold until I can get my car repaired and there’s so much I’d planned to see and do.” She dug in her bag for a brochure. “Have you ever been up to Victoria on Vancouver Island?”
“Once, but I was only five, too young to remember much of anything,” Kate told her, scanning the pamphlet. “This does sound like fun. Maybe this is where Clay and I should have our honeymoon.”
“It’d be perfect for that,” Rorie murmured. Her heart constricted with a sudden flash of pain, but she ruthlessly forced down her emotions, praying Kate hadn’t noticed. “I’m looking forward to visiting Canada. By the way, Mary’s driving to Riversdale to visit her sister later in the week. She’s asked me to take charge of cooking dinner if I’m still here. Would you like to help? We could have a good time and really get to know each other.”
“Oh, that would be great.” Kate slipped her arm around Rorie’s waist and gave her an enthusiastic squeeze. “Thank you, Rorie. I know you’re trying to reassure me, and I appreciate it.”
That had been exactly Rorie’s intent.
“It probably sounds selfish,” Kate continued, “but I’m glad your car broke down when it did. Without any difficulty at all, I can see us becoming the best of friends.”
Rorie could, too, but that only added to her growing sense of uneasiness.
Nightingale was a sleepy kind of town. Businesses lined both sides of Main Street, with a beauty shop, an insurance agency, Nellie’s Café and a service station on one side, a grocery store, pharmacy and five-and-dime on the other. Rorie had the impression that things happened in their own time in Nightingale, Oregon. Few places could have been more unlike San Francisco, where people always seemed to be rushing. Here, no one seemed to feel any need to hurry. It was as though this town, with its population of fifteen hundred, existed in a time warp. Rorie found the relaxed pace unexpectedly pleasant.