Man With A Mission. Muriel Jensen
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“I’m well, thank you,” she replied. “I just came to welcome you to City Hall.”
“I appreciate that.” He smiled again, taking her arm and trying to lead her back toward the office. “Mom’s in…”
She yanked her arm away, her duchess demeanor abandoned in a spark of temper. She caught herself and drew another breath. “We’ve already talked,” she said politely. “I told her if you have any problems, to let us know.”
“Shall I call you?” he asked, all effusive good nature.
Her eyes reflected distress at the thought, though she didn’t bat an eyelash. “No, Will Dancer will be taking care of tenants. Extension 202.”
He nodded. “We’ve been in touch a couple of times about updating the building’s wiring with circuit breakers.”
“We can’t afford to do that,” she said.
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’ll reduce your insurance on the building. Dancer thinks it’s a good idea. And I’m pretty reasonable.”
He realized the opening he’d given her the moment the words were out of his mouth.
“Really,” she said, old pain furrowing her brow. “That’s not the way I remember it.”
He didn’t understand it. It had been all her fault. So why did the pain on her face hurt him?
She turned and started to walk away.
He followed, determined to maintain the I-don’t-care-it-doesn’t-matter pose. “I meant,” he said calmly, “that I provide a good service at a reasonable price.”
“Well, that’s what the city would be looking for,” she said, steaming around the corner, past the other offices and toward the stairs, “if we could afford to do such a thing. But Will Dancer notwithstanding, we can’t.”
She turned at the bottom of the stairs to look him in the eye. “I hope you didn’t move your office here in the hope of securing City Hall business.”
He liked this part. “I have City Hall business,” he said, letting himself gloat just a little. “Dancer hired me to replace all the old swag lamps with lighted ceiling fans. He also invited me to submit a bid for rewiring.”
She’d always hated to be thwarted. Curiously, he remembered that with more amusement than annoyance.
“Just stay out of my way,” she said, all pretense dropped and her finger pointed at his face.
He thought that a curious threat coming from a rather small pregnant woman. It suggested black eyes and broken kneecaps.
He rested a foot on the bottom step, his own temper stirred despite his pose of nonchalance. “I know it’s probably difficult to grasp this,” he said, “when you’ve been prom queen, Miss Maple Lake Festival and all-around darling of the community, but you don’t control everything. I am free to move about, and if that happens to put me in your way, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to deal with it.”
Angry color filled her cheeks. “I do run this city hall.” Her voice was breathless in her apparent attempt to keep the volume down. “And if you get in my way, I can get your bid ignored so fast you won’t know what happened. And I can also see that no other city business comes your way ever!”
It was almost comfortable to fight with her again. This was familiar ground. “You’re sounding just like the mayor you and my sister helped replace. The one who got too full of his own importance and eventually stole hundreds of thousands from the city and held the two of you at gunpoint? You remember? The one who’s still doing time.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You don’t see me holding anyone at gunpoint, do you? And I don’t need anyone else’s money.”
“You just threatened to arbitrarily deprive me of my livelihood. I’m sure Haley, as the city’s watchdog, would have to look into such behavior.”
She didn’t seem worried. “Your sister is my best friend. I doubt very much that she’d come out on your side.”
“She’s a reporter before she’s a friend, and I am her brother.”
Her voice rose to a shout despite all her efforts. “Then keep your distance and don’t give me any excuse to get rid of you!”
“You got rid of me,” he reminded her, “seventeen years ago.”
“Who left whom?” she demanded.
“We were supposed to leave together.”
For an instant, emotion flashed in her eyes. He tried hard to read it but he was out of practice. Had it been…regret?
“Something unexpected…” she began, and for some reason those words blew the lid off his temper. Probably because they reminded him of what she’d begun to say the night he’d left—alone. Hank, on second thought, it might be better if you went alone, and I…
He hadn’t let her finish. He remembered that he’d been so sure all along that such a thing would happen, that Jackie Fortin was never going to be his. He was sure she’d find that his father had been right all along and Hank was worthless.
“Yeah, you tried to tell me that then, too,” he barked at her. “You expected me to fail, didn’t you? And you didn’t want to leave all your crowns and tiaras behind to take a chance with me.”
IT WOULD BE SO SATISFYING to kick him in the shin, Jackie thought. But Parker and Addy had wandered out into the hallway at the sound of raised voices and now stood a short distance away, looking on worriedly. When Jackie finally did take her revenge on Hank, she didn’t want witnesses.
Besides, much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, it hadn’t been all his fault. She should have tried to make him listen, insisted that he understand, but she’d been frightened and hurt, too. And broken-hearted.
She was very tired suddenly and her back felt as though sandbags hung from it. “I think you have me confused with your father,” she said softly, so that Addy wouldn’t hear. “You wouldn’t listen to my explanation then, so I doubt you’d want to hear it now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get out of your way.”
But she couldn’t climb the stairs until he moved.
He considered her a moment, his anger seeming to thin, then caught her arm and drew her up on the step beside him. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”
She wanted to tell him that she walked up and down stairs all day long. That was the price of occupying a building that had been constructed before elevators. But he looked as tired of their argument as she felt, so she kept quiet.
With his large hand wrapped around her upper arm, he led the way upstairs. The space was a little tight, but she did her best to ignore him. She didn’t realize until they were almost at the top that she wasn’t breathing. The baby, apparently convinced he was being strangled, gave her a swift kick in the ribs.
“Aah!” she gasped, stopping to give herself a moment to recover. This baby had Van Damme’s skill at Savate.
“What?” Hank asked worriedly.
“Just a kick,” she said breathlessly, rubbing where she’d felt it.
“Why don’t you sit for a minute?” Without waiting for her compliance, he pushed her gently until she was sitting on the stair above them. “Are you sure you should be working in this condition?”
“It’s pregnancy,” she replied, a little unsettled by what appeared to be genuine, if grudging, concern, “not infirmity. I’m fine.”
“You’re pale.”
“I can’t help that,” she retorted. “You’re very annoying. Preventing myself from punching you is taking its toll.”
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