Page 6 of Mending Fences
CHAPTER FOUR
Daniel read Colin’s text.You win. She hasn’t posted a thing. Bill is paid. Copay refunded.
Thanks. Too bad we didn’t bet. I want your car. You don’t even drive the Lamborghini!
The college graduation gift was a long-standing joke. Colin rarely drove, and when he did, he drove his “nondescript” vehicle.
Ha, ha. BTW, at the rate the social media is pinging in your area, it won’t be long before the P’razzi descends. Stay away from the local diners, says Morgan!
Sorry, looking for someone.
Not many out of towners visited the café and the diner. But neither did Mandy.
I can get her address ...
Nope.Already got it.
Daniel turned back to his computer. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t like the contract with the London-based ad agency. C&O’s legal team assured him the wording was routine, but his gut told him otherwise. He’d ignored his sixth sense twice in the past year—first by not dumping Summerset sooner, and now with Amanda. But the leftover rage from finding a survey team on his property earlier that day had taken over. He should have followed his instincts when he’d felt she offered no threat, at least not to his property. His mind was a different story. She had been occupying far too much of his thoughts this week. But it was natural to want to check up on her welfare. Too bad she lived on a dead-end street, or he would drive by more often.
No way would he ignore his instincts in business, too. Hence the reason he’d spent his Saturday morning cross-referencing British law books. A half hour later his patience was rewarded. He highlighted a paragraph in the contract and emailed it back to legal. Most likely he would need to go to London next week. Once again, he’d created more work for himself.
Daniel opened the fridge. Dang. He’d finished the milk this morning. The freezer contained only two beat-up bags of frozen vegetables. A quick trip to the store was in order. Sitting in the cab of his truck at a four way, he realized he was still dressed for the video conference he’d held early that morning with several board members to debate the sale of the steel side of the company. He hoped he wouldn’t stand out too much. There was one advantage of the small town—no resident paparazzi, and with so many Amish in the area, tourists would be staring at the stable in the parking lot, not looking for celebrities.
Mandy maneuvered across the parking lot on her crutches. Candace didn’t need her input on the groceries, but she wanted to get out of the house. At least the big-box grocery store had motorized carts and she could choose her favorite ice cream. To her dismay, when they entered the store, all the motorized carts were in use.
Candace turned to Mandy. “Do you think you can make it? Do you want to go back and sit in the car?”
The checkout lines stood four customers deep. It would be too warm in the car for as long as Saturday shopping would take. March had graced them with practically perfect spring weather. “I’ll wait over there.” She pointed her chin in the direction of the empty bench near the pharmacy.
“Sorry, I’ll be back in a few.” Candace disappeared down the card aisle.
“Don’t forget the ice cream,” she didn’t yell as she knew Candace wouldn’t hear over the crowd.
To pass the time, Mandy pulled out her phone and opened to her favorite social media site. The first picture in her feed was of Daniel Crawford eating at the local diner. Her friend had captioned the photo “Look who I saw today!!!!” Mandy scrolled down the page. A slew of DC sightings filled the screen. In most of the photos he appeared almost friendly, and, as always, his sandy hair was nothing short of model perfect.
She switched to her page and updated her status. “Crutches are not fun. Word of advice—careful what fences you choose to climb.” She added a photo of her booted foot. It might help put off questions on Monday when she returned to work.
Her longtime roommate Tessa had posted more amazing photos of stained-glass cathedral windows in Vendôme, France. Repairing windows designed hundreds of years ago suited her history-buff roommate perfectly. It would’ve been a fun internship to snag. But Mandy had a contract to teach at the high school and knew very little about stained-glass beyond the introductory-level class she had taken.
“Miss Fowler.”
She looked up to see one of her students approaching.
“What did you do for spring break?” The young man pulled off the hood to his navy sweatshirt like she insisted he do in class.
“I worked on my MFA project because, unlike you, I still had school.”
“No, I mean what did you do for fun to hurt your foot—skydive?”
Mandy laughed at the teen’s intense look. “No skydiving. Just working on my project.”
“Wow, can you get hurt doing art?”
She gave him a smile. “You can if you are not very, very, careful.”
“Zach! Zach!” called a woman pushing a cart with one toddler inside and another child hanging off the back.
Zach looked over his shoulder. “That’s my mom. I better go. See ya Monday.” He walked fast enough not to force his mother to call again but not fast enough to erase the frown on her face.
