Nora's Pride. Carol Stephenson
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the distinction. She had certainly tried hard enough to distance herself from the role his birth had thrust on her. He hitched his shoulders. “She doesn’t know I’m here. Yet.”
Christina looked startled. “Oh.” She huffed out a breath. “Well.” Sadness flitted across her face. “Your mother performed a fine eulogy for Aunt Abigail.”
Connor realized he hadn’t offered condolences. He’d picked up the phone a hundred times when he had learned of their aunt’s death. He’d replaced the receiver a hundred times because he hadn’t known what to say.
He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about Abigail’s death. She was a good woman.” He gestured at the shop. “She’d be proud of what you’ve accomplished here.”
Eve didn’t mask her curiosity. “Thanks, Connor, but how did you—” The doorbell chimed. Eve narrowed her eyes.
A wave of new arrivals crowded around Nora and Christina. Breaking the crowd apart, Nathan Roberts, a tall lean man, sauntered past Eve, brushing so close that she had to step back to avoid contact. Watching the familiar byplay had Connor fighting to keep his lips flat. Some things never changed.
Nate crossed to Connor and clasped his hand. Behind wire-rim glasses, Nathan Roberts’s slate-gray eyes warmed with amusement. “So, the town’s favorite hell-raiser has returned. Will he receive a prodigal son’s welcome?” He thumped Connor’s shoulder.
Connor winced. “And you’re still spouting off the biblical references.” He studied his friend as they shook hands. Whatever life had chosen to throw Nate’s way, it hadn’t seemed to change him. His sandy hair was still shaggy from too-infrequent trips to the barbershop, his movements still languid as if he had all the time in the world.
Together, Nate and Connor had skipped stones across Miller’s Lake as young boys, chugged down illicit beers at age eleven and discovered the allure of girls in high school. Nate had been a true friend and was the only local Connor was genuinely delighted to see.
Releasing Nathan’s hand, Connor turned, cocked his head and curled his lip at the older man hovering behind his friend. “Nice to see you, too, Mr. Ames.”
The high-school principal, without acknowledging the greeting, darted back into the shelter of the crowd. Nate chuckled. “He’s never forgiven you for the time you set a skunk loose in his office.”
Connor’s grin was unrepentant. “It didn’t have its odor sacs.”
“A pity Ames didn’t realize that little fact before he pulled the fire alarm, bringing the entire department racing to the school. It was a day to remember.”
Connor shifted to keep Nora within his line of sight. At that moment she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. An intense awareness jolted through his system. He remembered the intriguing spot on her body where warm, soft skin contrasted with cool, silky hair. Nora looked up and caught him staring. Irked with himself, he offered a bland smile. She shot him a withering look and turned her back.
Even as Connor fell into easy conversation with Nate about their past adventures, he continued to torment himself with the tantalizing vision of the long graceful sweep of Nora’s neck.
On the other side of the shop, Nora was suffocating, the weight of suppressed, raw emotions pressing all air from her lungs. If one more person made a cutting comment about Connor, she would scream. She had to escape.
She glanced around and spotted Connor and Nate deep in discussion. Connor rubbed his knuckles along his deeply shadowed jaw. Fascinated, she remembered the rasp of his developing whiskers. How would his face, roughened with manhood, feel against hers? Connor looked across and caught her staring. A smile, slow and cocky, curved his mouth. Her cheeks heated as if she was standing too close to the kiln.
The two men broke apart, and Connor plowed into the crowd, heading in her direction. No, she couldn’t bear any more polite conversation with him while half the town watched. She bolted for the front door.
Outside she drank in the fragrant air. Deep breathing, a technique she had learned to calm pretrial jitters, slowly untangled the knots in her stomach. She rolled her head and stilled, the sky capturing her attention.
White plumes of cloud drifted across the achingly blue October sky. She lifted her face and took another bracing breath of frost-edged air, laced with woodsy overtones.
Her gaze lowered. Chased by the playful fall wind, crisp leaves of orange, red and yellow skipped merrily along the tree-lined street. Normally this was her favorite time of year, when autumn muscled aside Indian summer. The scene before her should have calmed her, but didn’t. Change was snapping at her heels, threatening to devour her, yet Arcadia Heights remained the same on the outside. It wasn’t fair.
Today should have been perfect.
The door behind her opened, crushing her solitude.
Nora warily watched Wilbur Ames march out, heading determinedly toward her. She cast a desperate look around her, but milling shoppers blocked her escape. No matter that she was a grown-up and an attorney, her old high-school principal could still reduce her to teenage status. Nora steeled herself.
“Thank you for dropping by, Mr. Ames. On your way?”
Jowly from one too many potluck dinners, Ames’s face was ruddy with exertion. The drapes of his flesh quivered with indignation. “I can’t believe that Connor Devlin has returned. His poor mother will be horrified.”
The insult to Connor irritated Nora, but she quelled her feelings. She might as well hear Wilbur’s tirade out. Wilbur’s washed-out blue eyes darted nervously about. “I saw him in the corner talking to his partner in crime.” Ames’s contempt was palpable. “We’ll have nothing but trouble with Connor in town. The boy broke his mother’s heart with all his hell-raising.”
Sheila Devlin never had a heart, especially not where her son was concerned. Even when the minister had stepped in and helped the McCall family in their time of need, Nora hadn’t been able to shake the sense that the woman had done it out of self-interest, rather than kindness. Remembering the extent of the obligation she owed the woman sent a chill down Nora’s spine. To date, Pastor Devlin had rebuffed all attempts to repay the debt. It was as if she was waiting to exact the perfect price.
Although Nora knew Wilbur would carry any comment straight to Sheila Devlin, she couldn’t ignore the injustice to Connor, even if it meant tipping the scales of her uneasy relationship with his mother. “It’s been almost twelve years since our class graduated from high school.” Her voice carried only the mildest rebuke. “We’ve all changed. We’ve all grown up.”
Ames’s beady eyes glinted with interest as he studied her. “Weren’t you two involved before he left town?” His tongue flicked out and ran over his protruding lips.
Of course he knew. It was why he had made a bee-line for her. Wilbur Ames never forgot anything, particularly the juicy transgressions of others.
Nora laughed lightly. She’d give him a little of the truth to take away his joy in the dirt. “What a long memory you have, Mr. Ames. Of course, I went out a few times with him. After all, what girl didn’t Connor date?”
His hungry eagerness deflated. “Yes, of course. Not that it was my business. Anyway, nice to see you again and congratulations on the pottery shop.” The principal turned to leave.
“By the way, Mr. Ames.”
He paused.
“Have you and the school board had a chance to consider my suggestion about the girls’ soccer field?”
“Not yet. We have a full agenda.”
“I’m sure you do, but the girls are playing—”
“Now, Nora. We appreciate your school spirit and such, but we’ll get to it all in due time.” He turned and walked off.
“You handled Wilbur well—right up