Past, Present And A Future. Janice Carter

suggests there’s a parallel between your novel and what really happened. Withers plays up the notion that the death in your book may have been murder, too.”

      “This is so frustrating,” Clare said. “What kind of journalist is he?”

      “Clare, you need to read the article. He even mentioned your own connection to the Rina Thomas case. He implied you had inside information about the actual murder and used some of it in your book.”

      Fighting to keep her voice even, Clare said, “That’s ridiculous!”

      “I think it’s time to cut the cake and bring out the lunch stuff,” Laura cheerily interjected.

      “I need to use the washroom,” Clare mumbled and charged blindly through the crowded living room and up the stairs.

      Someone was already in the bathroom and Clare sagged against the wall outside, gulping in oxygen. The door opened and Gil Harper was suddenly standing next to her, his hand on her arm.

      “Clare? What’s wrong? You look upset.”

      She closed her eyes. Of all the luck.

      “Please don’t say nothing is wrong,” he went on. “I’ve a lot of weaknesses, but stupidity isn’t one of them.”

      That drew a faint smile. “No, stupidity was never one.” She hesitated, then admitted, “Just something Laura’s sister said. About that damn newspaper interview.”

      His brow furled for an instant, then cleared. “Ah, yes. You were talking about it last night. What did the guy do? Trash your book?”

      “If only. I could have handled that. No, he…uh, he tried to link my plot to Rina Thomas’s murder.” Her eyes shifted briefly to the framed print on the opposite wall. He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t respond. But to his credit, he didn’t evade the issue now that it was out in the open.

      “But aren’t the story lines somewhat similar?”

      It was a fair question from Gil, someone briefly connected to the murder, and he deserved frankness. “When I wrote the novel,” she began, “my intention was to tell a story about growing up in a small town. I lived in the South for a few years after graduation and grew to love the people and their generous hospitality. That’s the reason I set the novel in the South.”

      “What were you doing down there?”

      “Teaching in a four-room country school.” She smiled, thinking how naive and inexperienced she’d been.

      “Quite a challenge,” he said. “How long were you there?”

      “Four years. Then I went back home to New Jersey for a bit and did some substitute teaching while I took postgrad courses to get my masters.”

      “A masters in English lit, I bet.”

      She nodded. “That’s when I started writing. I was inspired by what I was learning, I suppose.” Though she knew otherwise. More like inspired by demons that wouldn’t leave me alone.

      One of the guests appeared on the landing, searching for the bathroom. Gil clasped Clare’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Can we politely make our excuses, do you think, and leave the party early? I’d like to talk to you some more about what you’ve been doing with your life.”

      She hesitated only for a fraction of a second. There was the risk of delving into the past with Gil, she realized, but at the same time she was enjoying talking to him. “All right. Laura said they’d decided against speeches or anything formal. There’ll be a toast to Emma and as godparents, we’ll have to be present for that. And she’ll be upset if we don’t have any of the lunch.”

      “True. How about if I meet you outside on the front porch after the toast and a bite to eat?”

      “Okay. I’ll look for you there.”

      He nodded, turned and headed back down the stairs. Clare stared at his retreating back. What had she just gotten herself into?

      The bathroom door opened again and Clare, smiling at the woman exiting, took her turn. By the time she’d refreshed and was back downstairs, people were congregating in the dining room around the table, now laden with food.

      Dave stood at the entrance to the dining room with Laura and Emma beside him. Gil was off to the side. When Dave spotted Clare, he addressed the guests. “Does everyone have a glass of something for a toast? Laura and I want to thank all of you for coming to share this very special day with us. It’s even more special with the presence of family and old friends.” He smiled directly at Clare and Gil. Then, raising his wineglass, he said, “Join us in wishing Emma a healthy, safe and long life.”

      Everyone raised their glasses and said, “To Emma.”

      Dave raised his glass a second time. “And to our dear friends—Clare Morgan and Gil Harper—Emma’s godparents. Thank you both and God bless.”

      Clare felt her face heat up as all eyes turned her way. As soon as the toast was finished, she set her wineglass down and, paper plate in hand, picked a couple of morsels from the buffet table. Then she moved toward Laura, who was passing Emma to her mother.

      “Do you mind if I leave early, Laura? I’ve a headache coming on and Gil suggested a walk to get some fresh air.”

      “Are you upset because of what Anne-Marie said? ’Cause I’m sorry, Clare. You know how she is. She didn’t mean any harm.”

      “No, no. I know Anne-Marie too well to take her the wrong way. But I have the signing tomorrow in Hartford and I’m still a bit tired from the one yesterday.” Her voice trailed off. Laura was too smart to be fooled by such lame excuses but she didn’t say anything. Clare popped an olive into her mouth.

      “Can you come by for breakfast in the morning, before you leave?”

      “Actually Lisa Stuart—remember her, senior English class?—called and invited me to speak to one of her classes in the morning.” Clare munched on a red pepper strip and scanned the room for Gil. Had he already left?

      Laura’s face cleared. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Those kids would love to see and hear a real live author, especially one from here.”

      Clare ignored a tug of guilt, knowing she’d made the decision to visit the class only at that moment. “I was honored to be asked,” she said. “How about if I call you tonight?” She set her paper plate down on the hall table and headed for the front door, Laura at her heels.

      “Want to come for dinner tonight?” Laura asked. “We’re just ordering in and my parents will be here, but at least we could have a bit of a chat.”

      Guilt won out. “Perhaps. I’ll call you later this afternoon.”

      “Okay. And…have a nice walk with Gil,” Laura said.

      Clare saw the curiosity in her friend’s face and would have explained the situation but a quick glance through the glass-paned door behind her registered Gil, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “Talk to you later,” she said and walked out onto the porch.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      HE DIDN’T SAY a word until they reached the end of the sidewalk. “My car or yours?”

      Clare hesitated. “Maybe we should just forget about this.”

      Gil sent her a look—a challenge. “Is that really what you want?” He didn’t pause long enough for a reply. “How about meeting in the park across from town hall? We’d still be taking a walk, getting fresh air and no one has to feel bad about skipping out on the christening reception.”

      “We were there for the important part,” she added.

      “Definitely,” he said. “I’ll see you at John Calvin’s statue in about ten minutes?”

      He walked to his car before she could