Teaching Ms. Riggs. Stephanie Beck
ice cream in a freezer, which, he saw held only ice cube trays.
“I see.” He watched as she pulled out a jug of store brand pop and two glasses. “You were in Chicago, right?”
“Yes. I went to the University of Illinois in Chicago. It’s a great school, and I liked it a lot. They have an intense chemistry program.”
“I never made it out of Flathead Falls. My dad and mom helped me buy my place when I turned twenty-three, then with the kids I just never got anywhere else,” he replied and took a seat after she did. He wanted to make her comfortable because she looked ready to jump out of her skin. Such tension…he hadn’t seen someone so on edge in a long time.
“Well, if you had to choose a place, Flathead Falls is a nice one.” She smiled, not judging or condescending, just friendly he thought.
She passed him a glass of pop and took a sip of hers. She was still nervous, even if her hands weren’t shaking as badly as they had been earlier. Looking around Ben’s tiny home though, he couldn’t help but make comparisons and follow leads he didn’t like.
There had to be an ugly reason for her living as she was. Curiosity already piqued from chatting with her before, every meeting he found himself being drawn deeper into her life. He wondered if the circumstances surrounding her deceased husband had anything to do with the modest way she lived.
“Say, you don’t want to grab some dinner, do you?” he asked.
She had no food in her freezer, and he’d bet what she’d bought the other day was all she had in her cupboards. That was unacceptable. It might make him late for the meeting, but he had to be sure she was all right.
“I actually had a dinner meeting at school,” she explained, and he wondered if she was lying. Pride could be an ugly and restrictive emotion. “But thanks for asking.”
“Of course,” he replied. If she was lying, he wasn’t going to call her on it. Not yet anyway. He wanted more answers, and alienating her wasn’t going to help.
The phone rang and Ben jumped to her feet. Any color that their discussion had put on her face faded. She looked at him then at the phone with panicked eyes. She was a troubled woman, and Mark hated it.
“Want me to get it?”
“No, but um, I should, or they won’t stop.” Her teeth showed wide in the forced smile, a look he’d taken pride in not seeing for the last few minutes. “Excuse me a second?”
The tiny apartment gave no hope for privacy, so he sat at the table and waited while she lifted the receiver with a trembling hand.
“Hello.”
She stayed on the line for a minute, paling even farther while she pulled and rubbed her dark curls just above her ear. Finally, she hung up none too gently and turned back to him with a shaky smile. “Sorry about that. So how’s the football team going to do this year?”
He didn’t want to let her steer the conversation away from herself, but since he was trespassing on her territory, he let her. He knew fear, had seen it before, had felt it to his core, and he was looking at it again.
They spoke of mundane things, of the town and his farm and the football team. She started to relax, but when the time pressed close to an hour she started fidgeting with her glass again.
“Didn’t you say you had a meeting tonight?” she asked when the hour was nearly upon them.
She was right, but there had to be a reason she was running him off, and he didn’t like it. If she was left alone…hell, it felt wrong to leave her alone. He shook himself. Their short acquaintance didn’t warrant such protectiveness. “Yeah, I suppose I should go. It’s been nice getting to know you, Ben.”
“Thanks, you too.”
“We could do this again soon,” he offered. “Maybe get to a movie, dinner?”
“That is the nicest offer I’ve had in months, and thanks.” Her smile was sad. “Really, but I don’t think I’m ready for movies or dinners with nice men. I’m still getting used to being a widow.”
He could have kicked himself. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was so uncomfortable. He’d thought they’d flirted a bit the night before, but she might have only been trying her wings. “I knew that. I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
“No, not at all.” She shook her head firmly. “No, it’s not the widowhood I’m getting accustomed to. It’s more the fact Don was killed by his mistress and left me in a ton of debt. It’s not you, it’s me, and I have a lot of issues right now.”
“Hell.” So much more about the night and her life made sense, even if it wasn’t sense he liked. “Are you serious?”
She rubbed her palm hard against her forehead and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Damn. I must be more tired than I thought to have said that. I’m sorry. It’s… Let’s just forget that, okay?”
“All right. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, I understand. If you are ever in the mood for a movie or dinner, you’ve got my number. We can keep things friendly and casual if it makes you feel more comfortable. We could bring the kids along. I can always use another set of eyes when wrangling the kids, and an ally when it comes to choosing a movie that doesn’t feature pre-teens singing and dancing. Friends are good, right?”
“Definitely.” Her smile was less forced but when she shook his offered hand, her palm was cold, colder than it should have been in the heat. She was looking toward the clock again too. “Thanks for bringing back my ice cream.”
“My pleasure,” he replied. “And really, don’t hesitate to call me. I’m awake late and up early. Plus, I spend most of my time with cows and kids, so I always enjoy the chance to have a conversation with another adult.”
“Okay, that’s got to be the second nicest offer I’ve had today.” Ben laughed and walked him the three steps to her door. “Drive safe.”
“Yeah, and hey, you should call the sheriff again if those phone calls keep up.” The advice probably wasn’t necessary, but he couldn’t stop himself from caring. “It’s his job to take care of pricks like that.”
“I’ll remember that.” She closed the door before he’d turned.
Ben Riggs was a troubled woman, he thought, taking a moment to let his eyes accustom to the darker entry hall. The tiny apartment and shadowed eyes made much more sense since her slip. Those kinds of closeted issues only led to more trouble.
Mark took a step and paused. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard the phone ring again; right after a chair had been slid under the door.
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