“That’s where I’ll be,” Rorie echoed. She didn’t know who would “come looking for her,” as Mary put it. The housekeeper made it sound as though a posse was due to arrive any minute demanding to know where the Franklin men were hiding Rorie Campbell.
Taking her coffee cup with her, Rorie walked across the yard and into the barn. Once more, she was impressed with all the activity that went on there. She’d come to know several of the men by their first names and returned their greetings with a smile and a wave.
As before, she found the office empty. She set down her cup while she turned on the computer and collected Clay’s data. She’d just started to type it in when she heard someone enter the room. Pausing, she twisted around.
“Rorie.”
“Clay.”
They were awkward with each other now. Almost afraid.
“I didn’t realize you were here.”
She stood abruptly. “I’ll leave…”
“No. I came up to get something. I’ll be gone in a minute.”
She nodded and sat back down. “Okay.”
He walked briskly to his desk and sifted through the untidy stacks of paper. His gaze didn’t waver from the task, but his jaw was tight, his teeth clenched. Impatience marked his every move. “Kate told me you’re involved with a man in San Francisco. I…didn’t know.”
“I’m not exactly involved with him—at least not in the way you’re implying. His name is Dan Rogers, and we’ve been seeing each other for about six months. He’s divorced. The MG is his.”
Clay’s mouth thinned, but he still didn’t look at her. “Are you in love with him?”
“No.”
Lowering his head, Clay rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I had no right to ask you that. None. Forgive me, Rorie.” Then, clutching his papers, he stalked out of the office without a backward glance.
Rorie was so shaken by the encounter that when she went back to her typing, she made three mistakes in a row and had to stop to regain her composure.
When the phone rang, she ignored it, knowing Mary or one of the men would answer it. Soon afterward, she heard running footsteps behind her and swivelled around in the chair.
A breathless Skip bolted into the room. Shoulders heaving, he pointed in the direction of the telephone. “It’s for you,” he panted.
“Me?” It could only be Dan.
He nodded several times, his hand braced theatrically against his heart.
She picked up the extension. “Hello,” she said, her fingers closing tightly around the receiver. “This is Rorie Campbell.”
“Miss Campbell,” came the unmistakable voice of George, the mechanic in Riversdale, “let me put it to you like this. I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Now what?” she cried, pushing her hair off her forehead with an impatient hand. She had to get out of Elk Run.
“My man picked up the water pump for your car in Portland just like we planned.”
“Good.”
George sighed heavily. “There’s a minor problem, though.”
“Minor?” she repeated hopefully.
“Well, not that minor actually.”
“Oh, great… Listen, George, I’d prefer not to play guessing games with you. Just tell me what happened and how long it’s going to be before I can get out of here.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell, but they shipped the wrong part. It’ll be two, possibly three more days.”
Nine
“What’s the matter?” Skip asked when Rorie indignantly replaced the receiver.
She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply, battling down the angry frustration that boiled inside her. The problem wasn’t George’s fault, or Skip’s, or Kate’s, or anyone else’s.
“Rorie?” Skip asked again.
“They shipped the wrong part for the car,” she said flatly. “I’m going to be stuck here for another two or possibly three days.”
Skip didn’t look the least bit perturbed at this information. “Gee, Rorie, that’s not so terrible. We like having you around—and you like it here, don’t you?”
“Yes, but…” How could she explain that her reservations had nothing to do with their company, the farm or even with country life? She couldn’t very well blurt out that she was falling in love with his brother, that she had to escape before she ruined their lives.
“But what?” Skip asked.
“My vacation.”