careful in the future.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to the office. If anything turns up missing…”
“We’ll call you,” Geneva said promptly. “But why don’t you come for supper? We can talk it over then. Along with whatever you two are trying to keep from me.”
“We’re not—” Libby began, but let it drop at her mother’s look.
“It’s nice of you to invite me, but I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he said quickly, moving toward the door.
“You still have to eat,” Geneva said. “Come back around six. Link and Marisa will be here by then, and we can talk it over while we eat.” She smiled, seeming confident that he’d obey.
Which he would. He couldn’t refuse Geneva anything. He owed her too much for that. She’d looked at the ragged, angry son of the town drunk and seen a person worth cultivating where the rest of the township had seen trash.
He’d never forget what he owed her, as well as the rest of the Morgan family. Which was why any feelings he had for Libby were best buried…too deep to be found.
CHAPTER FIVE
LIBBY GLANCED LONGINGLY at her bed, something she seemed to be doing a lot lately. She’d spent what was left of the day trying to get her operating system reloaded so that she could start downloading the files from her off-site storage. It had, of course, been a frustrating experience, but once she started, she hadn’t been willing to stop.
Adam would probably say she was being obsessive about it, just as he so clearly thought she was obsessive about the attack on Esther.
Why was she thinking about Adam again? She attacked her hair with the hairbrush. Being home, seeing him again, had brought up feelings she was sure she’d banished ages ago. Well, she’d just have to chase them back out. Anything else just led to problems—witness the fact that she’d opened up to him about her job, when she hadn’t told anyone else yet.
She stared blindly into the mirror, seeing, instead of her own face, an image of that grieving mother. When their eyes met, it was as if she’d seen herself as she must appear to that poor woman.
She’d seen a Libby she didn’t know. A Libby she didn’t like much. It wouldn’t have taken the final indignity of that fight with her editor. That moment had been the end of her career.
Voices sounded from downstairs, and the clatter of china and silverware. She tossed the brush on the dresser. Time to stop going over these fruitless thoughts and get on with things.
She hurried down the stairs, consciously trying for the usual spring to her step. The voices came from the dining room. She went in to find that Adam, Link and Marisa were all helping her mother get supper on the table.
Of course. It was Sunday, and Mom’s usual Amish helpers didn’t work on the Sabbath.
“You all look busy.” She forced the lilt into her voice. “What can I do?”
“Put water in the glasses,” Link said promptly, glancing at her and then taking another, longer look and frowning. “What’s wrong?”
So, maybe the twin connection between them hadn’t been entirely vanquished by his love for Marisa. “Nothing. I’ll get the water.” She escaped into the kitchen.
Not that she wasn’t relieved to know the bond with Link still existed, but she hadn’t decided yet how much she wanted to tell her family. Always assuming that Adam didn’t take it out of her hands and tell them everything.
With everyone helping, they had the simple meal on the table in no time.
“Chicken potpie,” her mother said, taking her seat at the foot of the table nearest the kitchen. “Thomas Esch dropped it off from his mother right after church. She knew we’d be tired from the wedding, not that we did all the cooking, the way the Amish do for their weddings.”
Libby frowned, trying to pick out the important fact from her mother’s tale. “Were you here when Thomas brought it, Mom?”
Her mother gave her a wide-eyed look. “Of course, how else would I
“We’ll call you,” Geneva said promptly. “But why don’t you come for supper? We can talk it over then. Along with whatever you two are trying to keep from me.”
“We’re not—” Libby began, but let it drop at her mother’s look.
“It’s nice of you to invite me, but I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he said quickly, moving toward the door.
“You still have to eat,” Geneva said. “Come back around six. Link and Marisa will be here by then, and we can talk it over while we eat.” She smiled, seeming confident that he’d obey.
Which he would. He couldn’t refuse Geneva anything. He owed her too much for that. She’d looked at the ragged, angry son of the town drunk and seen a person worth cultivating where the rest of the township had seen trash.
He’d never forget what he owed her, as well as the rest of the Morgan family. Which was why any feelings he had for Libby were best buried…too deep to be found.
CHAPTER FIVE
LIBBY GLANCED LONGINGLY at her bed, something she seemed to be doing a lot lately. She’d spent what was left of the day trying to get her operating system reloaded so that she could start downloading the files from her off-site storage. It had, of course, been a frustrating experience, but once she started, she hadn’t been willing to stop.
Adam would probably say she was being obsessive about it, just as he so clearly thought she was obsessive about the attack on Esther.
Why was she thinking about Adam again? She attacked her hair with the hairbrush. Being home, seeing him again, had brought up feelings she was sure she’d banished ages ago. Well, she’d just have to chase them back out. Anything else just led to problems—witness the fact that she’d opened up to him about her job, when she hadn’t told anyone else yet.
She stared blindly into the mirror, seeing, instead of her own face, an image of that grieving mother. When their eyes met, it was as if she’d seen herself as she must appear to that poor woman.
She’d seen a Libby she didn’t know. A Libby she didn’t like much. It wouldn’t have taken the final indignity of that fight with her editor. That moment had been the end of her career.
Voices sounded from downstairs, and the clatter of china and silverware. She tossed the brush on the dresser. Time to stop going over these fruitless thoughts and get on with things.
She hurried down the stairs, consciously trying for the usual spring to her step. The voices came from the dining room. She went in to find that Adam, Link and Marisa were all helping her mother get supper on the table.
Of course. It was Sunday, and Mom’s usual Amish helpers didn’t work on the Sabbath.
“You all look busy.” She forced the lilt into her voice. “What can I do?”
“Put water in the glasses,” Link said promptly, glancing at her and then taking another, longer look and frowning. “What’s wrong?”
So, maybe the twin connection between them hadn’t been entirely vanquished by his love for Marisa. “Nothing. I’ll get the water.” She escaped into the kitchen.
Not that she wasn’t relieved to know the bond with Link still existed, but she hadn’t decided yet how much she wanted to tell her family. Always assuming that Adam didn’t take it out of her hands and tell them everything.
With everyone helping, they had the simple meal on the table in no time.
“Chicken potpie,” her mother said, taking her seat at the foot of the table nearest the kitchen. “Thomas Esch dropped it off from his mother right after church. She knew we’d be tired from the wedding, not that we did all the cooking, the way the Amish do for their weddings.”
Libby frowned, trying to pick out the important fact from her mother’s tale. “Were you here when Thomas brought it, Mom?”
Her mother gave her a wide-eyed look. “Of course, how else would I
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