Return To Me. Shannon McKenna
is with my team, get the story and the pictures, and sell it to the big news agencies.”
He regaled them with a few of his tamer adventures. El played it cool, pretending not to listen, but he knew she was catching every word.
“So what brings you to this neck of the woods, Mr. Riley?” Mary Ann asked. “Nothing newsworthy happens around here.”
“Call me Simon.” He seized his fourth scone. “I’m here to see El.”
“You mean Ellen? You mean, you two know each other?” Mary Ann’s curious eyes darted from him to El, then back again.
“Simon grew up in the house next door,” El hastened to explain. “We knew each other when we were kids.”
“She baked great cookies even then,” Simon said. “My God, these things are good. Pass me the basket, please. She hasn’t lost her touch.”
Lionel winked at him. “Better work fast, Riley, if you like them scones so much. You got yourself some competition, boy!”
“Lionel!” El hissed. “Do you mind?”
“I’m a believer in telling it like it is, young lady.” Lionel’s voice had a self-righteous ring.
Simon stopped chewing. His mouth had gone dry. Of course a woman like El wouldn’t have stayed single. Of course not. He swallowed with difficulty and washed the crumbs down with a gulp of coffee.
He turned to El. “So?”
“So what?” El poured coffee into Phil’s cup and avoided his gaze.
“Who is he?” he demanded.
“Simon, this is hardly the time or place to—”
“Spit it out.” His voice was steely.
She set the coffeepot on the trivet with a thud. “Brad Mitchell.”
The room went dead silent. The grandfather clock on the mantel ticked loudly. The other guests exchanged nervous glances.
Simon finally found his voice. “Brad Mitchell?” The name almost strangled him. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.”
There was a chorus of thuds and squeaks as many chairs were shoved back from the table all at once.
“Boyd, Alex, come along.” Mary Ann hustled her offspring out the door and looked back with a pained smile. “Bye-bye, folks!”
“We’re, uh, going to go, ah, hiking,” Chuck mumbled, as he and Suzie scurried out the kitchen entrance. “See you guys around.”
“Good luck, young fella!” Lionel called, as Phil Endicott nudged him firmly out the door. “My vote’s for you!”
El stared down at the table. “Gracefully done, Simon. You cleared the room in less than ten seconds.”
“Brad Mitchell?” he repeated stupidly.
“Yes. I fail to see why that is so hard to believe.”
“Hard to believe? It’s impossible to believe! I know the guy, El! He’s a snake!”
She bristled. “I’m sure he’s changed. Brad is a very nice man.”
Simon shook his head, speechless. A woman like El, so bright and sweet and generous, wasted on that sneaky, self-important bastard. It was criminal. “El, let me tell you a couple of things about Brad—”
“No, Simon.” Her voice was resolute. “I don’t want to hear it. I believe in seeing the best in people. And I never listen to cruel gossip.”
She was right. It wasn’t his place to tell her. She would have to figure it out for herself, but it made him sick to think of it.
He set down the teacup and stuck his clenched hands into his lap where they couldn’t do any damage. “He won’t stand by you, El,” he said tightly. “Not like you deserve.”
She made a sharp, angry gesture. “So? Who gets what they deserve in this world? Besides, I don’t expect anyone to stand by me. No one has so far.”
Simon stared at the crumbs on the tablecloth. “I’m sorry I let you down. I didn’t have a choice. At least that’s how I saw it at the time.”
El covered her face with her hands. “I cannot believe I said that,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Simon. It wasn’t right. You don’t owe me a thing. I don’t even know you. I don’t know anything about you.”
“That’s not true. You know me better than anyone.”
El’s hands dropped away from wet eyes. “Oh, please! Get real! We were just kids!” She dabbed her nose with a napkin.
“Weren’t you listening? I tried to fill you in,” he protested.
“In front of a whole roomful of people!”
“It’s just as well there are people around,” Simon said.
El took a careful sip of coffee. “What do you mean by that?”
Ah, what the hell. He never could keep his big mouth shut to save his life. “You know what I mean,” he said. “The thing between us. It hasn’t gone anywhere.”
El set her cup down and rose to her feet. His dismissal was written all over her face. “Maybe it hasn’t gone anywhere, but we have,” she said quietly. “So if you’ll excuse me—”
“Have dinner with me.” He sprang to his feet and moved to block her exit. Her retreat made him feel panicked and furious.
El backed up. “Simon, I—”
“Just dinner. Please. It’s been so long, El. I missed you. I want to know every single thing that’s happened to you since I left.”
The nervous tremor that shook her could have been laughter or tears. “Wouldn’t take long. We’d run out of conversation by the time we finished the appetizers.”
“Like hell we would. We never ran out of conversation before. I never met such a chatterbox as you in my life.”
Her smile was tight. “Things change.”
“Yeah, right, whatever. If you run out of things to tell me, which I doubt, then I can tell you everything that’s happened to me.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, yeah? Over the past sixteen years, eleven months and thirteen days?”
Her words startled and moved him. He stared at her downcast eyes and willed her to look up at him. “You didn’t forget me, then?”
She shook her head. He took a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. It glittered with its own light against his brown hand. If she just looked up, if she just met his eyes, he would have her.
“Look at me, El,” he commanded softly.
She shook her head again. She was no fool. She was on to him.
“Have dinner with me,” he begged.
El blew out a sharp breath and shook her head hard, like she was shaking herself awake. “I can’t, Simon. I didn’t forget you, but I had to assume that you’d forgotten me. Brad’s picking me up in a little while. We’re going to Sigmund’s Jewelry to pick out a ring.”
Simon turned and stared out the window until he was sure he could control his voice. “That serious already?”
“We’ve been seeing each other for a while.”
He didn’t want to go to the next place his mind was taking him, but it was a one-way street. Brad Mitchell was her lover. It was Brad who was having decorous, old-fashioned sex with El in her fancy four-poster.
And those fancy teacups would make a real loud, satisfying noise when they smashed against the fine wood paneling.
He