Page 3 of Mending Fences
CHAPTER TWO
As the Golf disappeared in a cloud of dust, Daniel went inside the gate before locking it. Memories of the one summer he was allowed to be a child poured back as fast as he had downed Grandma Mae’s lemonade.
How had he not recognized Amanda Fowler? The last photo he had seen of her had been from her high school graduation invitation sent by Grandma Mae, which he had ignored like all the Christmas cards that had stopped coming a while ago. She hadn’t changed much since the photo was taken. Her hair might have been longer—hard to tell with it up in a ponytail—but it was still the soft-brown color of the deer they used to watch. And those eyes sparkled as vibrantly as they had twenty years ago. She had been wearing a skirt rather than cutoff jeans and the twigs she’d once had for legs ... better not even go there.
He pulled out his phone and punched speed dial. “Hey, Colin, do me a favor. Flag the local hospital and emergency clinics for a Mandy, or Amanda Fowler? Then make sure the bill is paid in full.”
The voice on the end of the line grunted. “You know how hard that is with HIPAA.”
“Not as hard as you tell me it is.” Colin had been his roommate from the time they were both ten years old at the boarding school they’d both detested until college, when they’d chosen different paths. Top of his class at MIT, Colin could probably get into any computer in the United States if he wanted to. Good thing they were still friends as well as business partners, like their fathers.
“Are you at the Indiana property?”
Daniel shifted his phone to the other ear. “Yes. I still can’t decide what to do with it. I love the pond and the hills and all the trees, but Grandfather’s monstrosity of a house, not so much. And before you ask, she hurt her ankle, and, no, I didn’t touch her. She had an accident that was kind of my fault.”
“Do I need to give legal a heads-up?”
“No, this one won’t sue.”
“Are you sure?”
Daniel stopped at the front door of the caretaker’s house and punched in his code on the security pad. “I bet she doesn’t even hit social media with the tale.”
Colin laughed. “You’re kidding. Is she eighty?”
“No, she turned twenty-six on February 9.”
“Woah, there, how well do you know this woman?”
“Not the way you are thinking, Colin. Don’t even go there.”
“How do you know Miss She-Won’t-Tell?” Colin’s curiosity was annoying but justified. Over the last few months, every time Daniel even blinked at a woman, she tried to turn the gesture into some scandal to have her fifteen minutes of fame with one of America’s most eligible bachelors, as determined by some group of publicists trying to sell magazines.
“Well, enough to know she was raised better than that.”Better than me.
“That is no guarantee.” Daniel heard Colin’s rapid typing on the keyboard. No doubt he had flagged every one of Mandy Fowler’s social media accounts. “I need better than that.”
“She called me Danny.”
Silence reverberated from the other end of the line. Daniel’s thumb hovered above disconnect when Colin’s voice came back on. “She checked into the county hospital ER. She is the little girl you used to talk about, isn’t she?”
Not little anymore, but just as cute.“Colin, get the bill paid.”
“Done.”
“And, Colin. Stay out of the rest of her files. Anything not in the public eye stays out of yours. Got it?”
“Sure.” Colin paused for a second. “If this is the Mandy I think it is, think before you act.”
Too late for that.
Candace came rushing into the emergency room. “Mandy! How dare you send a text like that.” Several heads turned toward her voice.
Mandy leaned forward and tried to shush her roommate. “People are looking.”
“Let ’em look.” But Mandy’s roommate lowered her voice and took the molded plastic seat next to her.
Mandy rolled her eyes. “You say that because you like them looking.”
