Familiar Stranger In Clear Springs. Kathryn Albright
He dismissed her words with an irritated wave of his hand. “You are quick to come to his defense, considering how he treated you in the past.”
“I’m not coming to his defense... I just cannot fathom that he would do anything deemed dishonorable.” Everything about Tom in the military had screamed justice.
“Like I said, a man can change.”
She realized suddenly that her brother had not shared any of this with her at the time. “You knew they let him go and didn’t tell me?”
Terrance did not seem to hear her. “I wonder who he is working for now.” He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she could supply the answer.
Slowly she removed her shawl and hung it back on the peg. She didn’t know anything about Tom’s job here, and whatever she revealed her brother would try to twist and turn to his fortune. He’d always been that way. It didn’t seem her place to say anything. If he wanted to know more, he should ask Tom. “Why are you upset, Terrance? I’m the one he left. I’m the one who had to face things before. Not you.”
He swallowed, his expression a curious mixture of speculation and worry. Then his shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s all. What he did before took you years to put behind you.”
He had always blamed Tom...and she was tired of it. “That was as much due to what Preston did as it was due to Tom. Preston nearly ruined this town when he pulled out his backing. That wasn’t Tom’s fault at all.”
“No. It was yours.”
She refused to feel any guilt, although Terrance tried his best to blame her. In her heart she knew that she’d made the right decision. With Tom, she had realized what love was for the first time and she couldn’t go back to the watered-down affection she felt for Preston even if it did mean giving up the man’s fortune—something her brother couldn’t seem to understand. She felt that way even though in the end nothing had worked out as she had hoped. She had learned to adjust, learned to live with her choice. She had moved on. Terrance was the one who wouldn’t let it go. “It wasn’t my fault and I wish you would stop saying that. I made the right decision for me. It’s in the past and it’s over.”
“That’s just it. You are different whenever Barrington is around. I don’t like it and I don’t trust him around you. He’s not good enough for you.”
She knew what he meant about being different. She felt it inside herself. It seemed that Tom was the only one who kicked up emotions and nerves that ran shallow beneath her surface. In the intervening years she’d had opportunities to be courted, but had always rebuffed her would-be suitors—finding gentle excuses as to why she wasn’t interested. Tom overshadowed everyone and everything for her—he always had. And now even the thought of him back in town caused a reaction, a tightening in her gut. She hated the sharp, anxious sensation that had taken up residence inside. It would not control her. She would not let it. And yet she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Tom since he rode into town.
“I don’t know why you are worried. He’s not in town to renew anything with me. If that were the case he would have contacted me years ago after I wrote to him. Like he said, he’s here about a job.”
Terrance eyed her as if he wasn’t sure he believed her.
“In my limited experience, any job he takes has precedence over any other part of his life. He’ll be gone in no time and without a second thought toward me, I assure you. You have no need of concern.”
“Like before.”
She pressed her lips together, the thought painful despite the passage of years. “Just like before.” She couldn’t afford to let down her defenses. Not for a moment. Tom was the wind and she could no more tie him down than she could a cloud.
“Good. Then we understand each other on this because I don’t want him around you.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
A leaden weight sat like a jagged rock in her stomach as she walked to the counter to get the store ledger. Every Sunday after their dinner, just as it had been with Father and Mother, they went over the past week’s receipts. She remembered Mother saying once that Sunday was supposed to be a day of church and rest, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Father kept right on checking the books. And now with Terrance managing his store in San Diego, Sunday was his one chance to go over the records together. In the past year, Terrance had become even more diligent at double-checking her figures, as if he were looking for ways to squeeze more money out of the little store.
He opened the ledger to the start of the month, scanning the neatly recorded figures. He made notes on a separate piece of paper where she had already listed a few items to reorder.
While he assessed what needed replacing, she stood by the counter and studied him. He used to tease her. When she wore her hair in pigtails, he used to tug them to irritate her. All that was long ago. Over the years they’d grown apart—his ambition for social standing and wealth such a different approach than the things she cared for. Anymore, they seldom saw eye to eye. He was her brother, and she cared about him, and she wanted to keep her promise to her mother. Yet she wondered, at low times, if he really cared much for her at all.
In some ways, once he moved to the city, things became better. They weren’t with each other day in and day out. He could no longer criticize and judge her and she no longer had to worry about measuring up to his standards—at least not daily. Now only on Sundays.
And today, well, he must be concerned for her considering the way he spoke of her not getting hurt by Tom again. Inwardly she sighed. There was no need for worry on that account. What happened between Tom and her had occurred too far in the past to revisit.
“How are the small coffee grinders selling?”
“Must we talk about business today?”
He raised his gaze from the ledger in front of him, using his finger to keep his place in the book. “We do this every Sunday. I need to know what’s going on here to make good decisions for both stores.”
She thought that interesting on one level because she was the one who managed this store; he just double-checked her figuring. “Is it enough for you? Running the store in San Diego?”
“I’m working on plans to expand. And, as I mentioned, running for a seat on the commerce board. Never hurts to be the first to know about new property.”
“No. I suppose that’s a good idea.” However, it wasn’t what she meant at all. She tried to explain herself more clearly. “I’m not talking about business. I mean... You never talk about having a wife or family. Don’t you ever feel lonely at times?”
He huffed and leaned back in his chair, obviously amused by her question. “A wife? Children?” His smirk held an ugly condescension. “Tethers? No. At least, not while I’m building my business. Later on?” He shrugged. “Maybe. A son would be nice to pass the business on to.”
His words sliced through her. Children weren’t tethers. A family wasn’t something that pulled you down. And yet even before she’d asked she had the premonition he would feel differently than she did.
“Now, if you don’t mind, let’s get back to the coffee grinders.”
She did mind actually. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of an afternoon off. “Three out of the five are sold. Mr. Cornwall wants one. They were an excellent idea.”
He hunkered down again over the book for the next ten minutes, his muddy-brown hair falling forward over his forehead.
Finally, he folded his notes and tucked them in his pocket. He stood, shoved his arms into his new coat and plopped his derby on his head. “Do you have last year’s ledger?”
The request was an odd one. “In the back room.”
“Will you get it for