74 Seaside Avenue

“Some remark intended to embarrass me.”

Pete nearly missed a step. “Yeah, well, I could see that wasn’t working.”

“Working?” she repeated.

“Never mind.”

She frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you leaving BuffaloValley anytime soon? Because if you are, I’d prefer to hear about it now.”

The question startled her. The musicians declared another break, and they walked back to the seats they’d previously occupied. When they were both sitting, Linnette turned to ask him, “Why should you care if I stay or if I go?”

Pete folded his arms and glared at the floor. “Are you planning to leave BuffaloValley?”

“Do you want me to?”

His eyes flared wide. “No.”

“What makes you think I’m going to leave?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured a city girl like you probably wouldn’t stick around for long.”

This conversation was starting to get interesting. “Why do you want me to stay?” she asked. “If that’s what you’re saying.”

He stared back at her as though he resented the question. “Have you noticed how many times I’ve come into town in the last two months? We’ve got an excellent cook out at the farmhouse, and my brother and I eat real well. The food at home is just as tasty as Buffalo Bob’s. Maybe tastier.”

In other words, Pete was telling her he’d driven into town because of her.

“You never asked me out,” Linnette reminded him.

“With good reason.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I seem to remember you telling me you’ve got a broken heart.” He expelled his breath, then uncrossed his arms. “I figured you needed time to get over this other guy.”

“Oh…kay.”

“Why do you think I’ve been coming to BuffaloValley so often? It’s an hour’s drive each way!”

“I’m not a mind reader, Pete.”

“I had to make sure no one else was showing any interest in you.”

Linnette nearly swallowed her tongue. “What did you just say?”

He blinked. “Was that insulting? My brother, Josh, says I’ll never convince a woman to marry me because I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“So you’re looking for a wife?” This put a whole new twist on their conversation—and on his behavior. Although if he wanted to get married, he was going about it in an odd way.

“I’m not proposing,” he said quickly.

“Good.”

He frowned. “Good?”

“Well, yes. I’m not even thinking about marriage.”

Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So I’m wasting my time?”

“That depends,” Linnette murmured.

He glanced over at her. “Depends on what?”

“On whom.”

“Okay,” Pete said, “that’s fair. Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.” Linnette crossed her legs and swung one foot to the rhythm of the music.

“What are my chances? Just tell me flat-out so I can save myself the time, effort and expense of driving back and forth. Not to mention making a fool of myself,” he added in a low voice.

Linnette thought about his question. “I can’t really say. It would help if I knew more about you.”

He nodded. “That’s fair,” he said again. He paused, taking an audible breath. “I run a farm with my brother. Josh isn’t married, either.” His eyes narrowed and he gave her an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you have any unmarried friends who’d be interested in moving here?” As soon as the words were out, he seemed to regret having asked. “Never mind. It worked once, but I don’t think history’s going to repeat itself.”

“What?”

“Eight or nine years ago, Lindsay Snyder moved to town—”

“I’ve met Lindsay,” she put in.

“Well, her friend Maddy Washburn followed, and they married local men, so…Where was I?”

Linnette froze. “Did you say Washburn?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It seemed Cal was destined to haunt her, no matter where she went.

“She married Jeb McKenna.”

She and Maddy had become friends; Maddy was the person she’d been planning to visit the day of the tornado. And Washburn was her maiden name. Life was full of such ironies, she supposed.

She saw Maddy—no longer a Washburn—and Lindsay Sinclair across the room, and the three of them exchanged waves. She turned back to Pete.

He seemed a bit flustered, so Linnette prompted him. “You were going to tell me about yourself.”

“Right.” Pete sat up a bit straighter. “I’m a farmer, just like my father and grandfather, and I work hard. We raise soybeans and wheat, and we keep a few horses. It isn’t easy making a living off the land these days. Josh and I put in a lot of long hours. I enjoy reading in my spare time, and as you noticed, I’m not bad on my feet. I can play a little guitar and I’m fond of kids.”

“Are you kind to animals?”

“Yeah. I’m too softhearted, according to my brother.”

“Do you have any secrets you’re willing to share?”

“Secrets?”

“Like the ones I spilled during the tornado.”

Pete frowned. “I cheated on a test once in seventh grade and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since. The first time I chewed tobacco my dad walked into the room and I swallowed it. I ended up sicker than a dog and I haven’t chewed since.”

That was a comforting thought. He was obviously a man who learned from his mistakes.

“Anything else you want to ask me?” While she mulled over the question, Pete said, “I know that if I was ever fortunate enough to have a woman like you fall in love with me, I’d recognize and treasure the gift I had and never look elsewhere.”

Her heart melted at that. “I’d say your chances just went up considerably, Pete Mason.”

“They did?”

She smiled and found he was smiling, too. Oh, yes, Buffalo Valley, North Dakota, was looking better all the time.

Forty-One

Teri knew that Bobby was as ready as he could possibly be for this all-important chess match. The two top-ranked chess players in the world would finally meet, and the press was watching carefully.

Although he wasn’t pleased about her accompanying him to New York, Teri had insisted on it. James was still at home in Cedar Cove, recovering. Teri had asked Christie if she’d look in on him while they were away. Christie had agreed, but reluctantly; when she got back, Teri was going to do a little probing. That relationship seemed to be one step forward, twenty steps back, and neither of them was telling her anything.

The match, in midtown Manhattan, would be broadcast around the globe. The New York Times had published an article about the elusive Bobby Polgar; the reporter claimed that since his marriage, Bobby had gone into seclusion and had finally emerged.

On the flight from Seattle, Teri wore a maternity top for the first time. She didn’t really need it yet, but she figured her pregnancy would give the press something to talk about—and an ostensible reason for Bobby’s disappearance from public view.

They arrived in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon. The match would be staged at a hotel off Broadway the next day. When they entered their suite, Teri was awestruck by the huge bouquets of flowers, fruit baskets and bottles of champagne. This was her first trip to New York, and it was everything she’d expected. Staring out the window at the streets below, she lingered over the dazzling lights of the city. This was some kind of town! Mesmerized, she could hear its heartbeat from thirty-eight floors up.

“Bobby, will you look at this?” she cried, holding back the draperies and fixing her gaze on the blur of yellow taxis. The billboards flashed advertisements and vendors hawked their wares on street corners.

“I want to shop,” Teri said longingly. She had a total of two maternity tops in her entire wardrobe. Two. And New York was supposed to have some of the best shopping in the whole world.

“No,” Bobby said without even a pause.

“No?” Bobby said it to her so rarely that it was like hearing a foreign language.

“Later,” he promised.

She sighed; he was right. Teri’s role now was to support Bobby. After the match there’d be plenty of time to hit the stores. “Will you come with me?” she asked.

Bobby nodded. “If you want.”

“It’ll be fun,” she said. Flopping down on the bed, she reached for the room-service menu and flipped through the pages, exclaiming at the selection and the prices.

The match was to be played at nine on Sunday morning, and Bobby seemed far more relaxed than she was. She’d assumed they’d stay in the hotel, eat their meals there and wait until it was time for Bobby to face the Russian.

Instead, he suggested they go for a walk. Teri readily agreed. When she’d met her husband the year before, he’d lived in New York in a condo apartment somewhere close to Central Park. She’d never seen his place; after they’d bought the house on Seaside Avenue

, Bobby had sold the apartment.

Outside, the streets were crowded with people of all ages, all backgrounds, all nationalities. There was an almost electric energy, unlike anything Teri had ever experienced. Her eyes darted in every direction and more than once Bobby had to pull her away from street vendors.

“I can buy a designer purse for thirty bucks,” she cried in protest, glancing over her shoulder. “Don’t you know what a bargain that is?”

Bobby shook his head. “They aren’t authentic.”

“But…”

“If you want a purse, I’ll get you a real one.”

“Bobby…”

Her husband refused to listen. Maybe later she’d sneak out and buy some for Rachel and Christie—they’d be thrilled. But, regardless of her disappointment from a shopping perspective, Teri found the walk invigorating. They’d eaten dinner in a genuine New York deli, and she was determined to find a cheesecake recipe to duplicate the fabulous dessert they’d had.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked when they got back to the room. They could order one on their own television set. She could’ve watched movies the week they’d honeymooned in Vegas, too, only they had better things to do. But this evening, it was far more important that Bobby relax and get a good night’s sleep.

“A movie?” he asked, sounding puzzled.

“They have a whole list here. We don’t even have to leave the room.”

Bobby grinned. “I have my own methods of relaxation.”

He wore the expression she knew so well. “Bobby! Tonight?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve got the biggest match of your life in the morning.”

He walked over to the door, turned the lock and slid the chain into place.