The Lover. BEVERLY BARTON

She would be friendly, maybe even a little flirtatious, but in a very ladylike way. If she came on too strong, too female-in-charge, she might turn him off and put an end to their romance before it actually began. Taking her cues from him was the wisest course of action. Apparently he wanted their relationship to begin by being sweetly romantic, with an air of mystery.

      Thomasina made a point of speaking to Reverend Donaldson and welcoming him to Adams Landing. She figured if Amanda had picked the man out as a potential brother-in-law, her mother had zeroed in on him as son-in-law material. And as every girl knows, it’s always best if you can keep your mama happy. Of course, every mother in town with a single daughter over the age of twenty was probably making mental wedding plans for her daughter and the reverend. Young, handsome, successful single men in Adams County were few and far between.

      Amanda grasped Thomasina’s arm just as she started walking toward the parking lot. “Hold up.”

      Thomasina paused. “I spoke to him, smiled at him and made friendly. That should satisfy Mama.”

      “Hmm … What are you not telling me?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Come on, I know you. You’ve got a new boyfriend, haven’t you? And it’s about time. You should have stopped pining over Ron Hensley two seconds after the bum dropped you like a hot potato.”

      “He didn’t drop me like a hot potato. We just wanted different things from a relationship.”

      Amanda lowered her voice. “Yeah, all he wanted was sex.” She looked directly into Thomasina’s eyes, as if daring her to lie to her. “Come on. Who is this new guy?”

      “Swear you won’t tell a soul.”

      Amanda giggled. “I swear.”

      “It’s Brandon Kelley, the art director at the college.”

      “And when did this start? When was your first date? Details, girl. I want details.”

      “Look, I’ll fill you in on everything after dinner today, when Mama takes her nap and the guys and kids are outside playing ball. But I can tell you this—he is so romantic.”

      Amanda let Thomasina leave without further questioning, probably realizing that they could easily be overheard by any number of people. The church grounds were covered with three fourths of the congregation who lingered to chit chat and gossip before going home.

      Despite the clouds blocking the sun, the July heat seeped through and the high humidity created a damp heaviness in the air. On her way to her car, she spoke to half a dozen people and threw up her hand and waved at Robyn and Bernie Granger, who were with their parents. She’d bet Brenda Granger had her eye on the reverend as a potential mate for one of her daughters.

      When Thomasina reached her car, she realized that in her haste to make it inside the church on time, she had forgotten to lock the doors. No big deal. She didn’t have anything worth stealing inside the vehicle, and who’d want to take her older model Grand Am? She opened the door and started to slide inside, wanting to get the air-conditioning going as quickly as possible. But she stopped dead still when she saw the large manila envelope lying on the driver’s seat. Her heart lurched. Was this another gift from Brandon? After picking up the envelope, she got in, closed the door, started the engine and turned up the air-conditioning. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching her, she tried to decide whether to open the envelope now or wait until she got home.

      No one was paying any attention to her, so why wait? She opened the envelope eagerly, barely able to contain the fluttering excitement in her belly. Peering inside, she saw a note and what looked like four-by-six-inch snapshots. She removed the note from its envelope.

      I love looking at you. You’re so beautiful.

      Thomasina sighed. Her whole body quivered with pleasure.

      Her hands trembled as she reached inside the manila envelope and removed the photographs. Three pictures of her. One taken at the college, one coming out of Robyn’s Fitness Center, and one going into the Piggly Wiggly yesterday.

      An odd feeling rippled up Thomasina’s spine as she realized that he’d been following her yesterday, that he’d been close and yet hadn’t made his presence known. It was almost as if he was stalking her. A hint of uneasiness crept into her romantic fantasy of Brandon Kelley courting her with notes and gifts.

      You’re being silly. There’s a difference in a man like Brandon being secretively seductive and some guy she wasn’t interested in stalking her. After all, she wanted Brandon to notice her, to take an interest in her, to pursue her.

      Taking a deep, calming breath, Thomasina banished every negative thought from her mind. Perhaps tomorrow, at school, Brandon would make his next move and ask her for a date. After all, how long could he continue admiring her from afar when it was obvious what he wanted was to admire her up close and personal.

      Jim felt downright awkward coming for Sunday dinner at the Granger house when it was apparent that everyone else here had come straight from church services. Everyone was still dressed in their Sunday best. Reverend Matthew Donaldson still wore his suit and tie. Raymond Long had removed his jacket, but wore a white button-down and blue-and-gray striped tie. Only R.B. Granger looked halfway comfortable, having taken off his jacket and his tie, leaving him in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. My kind of man, Jim thought. Jim wore khaki dress slacks and a navy blue, short-sleeve, cotton pullover. In comparison with everyone else, he was definitely underdressed. But he usually didn’t put on a suit and tie, except for funerals.

      “Come on in, Captain Norton.” R.B. invited Jim in with a wave of his hand. “Bernie’s introduced you to everybody except her mother and sister. They’re out in the kitchen getting dinner ready to put on the table.”

      Jim entered the large den where the others had congregated. This room, like the living room and dining room he had glimpsed when he’d entered the foyer, possessed a sense of hominess. The furniture was a mixture of styles, mostly dark woods and earthy colors, antiques blending with sturdily built, more modern pieces. In many ways, it reminded him of the home he’d grown up in, the place where he’d been happy and at the time hadn’t realized what a lucky kid he was. As a boy, he’d had everything he now wanted for Kevin. A happily married mother and father, a kid sister, and a house filled with love.

      “Smile, Jim,” Bernie whispered to him. “This is Sunday dinner, not a walk to the electric chair.”

      He forced a closed-mouth smile and entered the den. Bernie had introduced him to everyone, including Raymond Long’s mother, Helen, who was at this very minute studying him intently. He couldn’t figure out why she was so interested. It was as if she’d taken an instant dislike to him and was searching for a reason to justify her decision.

      “Dad, you’ll have to keep the conversation going,” Bernie told her father. “I need to help Mama and Robyn. Dinner should be on the table in just a few minutes.”

      Jim glanced at Bernie as she walked away hurriedly. She wore a two-piece tan suit, with a skirt that hit her mid-calf, but she didn’t look all that different today than she had the past two days. Everything about her—from her simple style in clothes to her minimum of makeup and long hair pulled away from her face and secured in a ponytail—was neat, orderly and… well, to be honest, plain. Not that Bernie wasn’t pretty. She was, but in a plain sort of way. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium complexion, simple clothes, simple hairstyle. Bernie’s only outstanding feature was her five-nine height, making her as tall as a lot of men.

      R.B. pulled Jim aside and said, “Bernie tells us that you’re going to be keeping your son for a few weeks while your ex-wife undergoes surgery and then chemo.”

      “That’s right.”

      “I sort of know what your ex-wife is facing. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years ago.” R.B. grunted. “Cancer. That’s a word no one wants to hear in reference to their own health.”

      “No,