Page 87 of Inferno
Prissy’s throat tightened. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
They stared at each other.
Stan said, “I hope we can—”
Suddenly they were interrupted by school board president Boyd Dewhurst, who was accompanied by a news reporter who wanted to interview Prissy outside for the late evening broadcast.
“Sure,” she consented with a bright smile,thenglanced apologetically at Stan. “I’ll see you later.”
He smiled faintly. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”
Prissy was halfway across the room with her boss and the reporter when she saw a beautiful, long-haired woman emerge from one of the voting booths.
With a start, Prissy realized it was the woman from the ball.
Dr. Gilliard.
As she stared, the doctor was joined by a handsome older couple who could have been her parents. The threesome started toward the main doors, laughing and chatting companionably.
Suddenly Dr. Gilliard glanced around and met Prissy’s gaze.
They stared at each other.
After several seconds, the doctor’s gaze shifted past Prissy.
When Prissy glanced over her shoulder, she saw what—who—had caught the other woman’s attention. Wearing an infectiously boyish grin, Stan was crouched down talking to a group of beaming children while their equally captivated mothers looked on.
As a wave of possessive pride washed over Prissy, she turned back to arch a brow at Dr. Gilliard.
The woman met her gaze, the barest hint of a smile curving her mouth.
As the fine hairs lifted on the back of Prissy’s neck, Dr. Gilliard briefly inclined her head, then turned and left with the older couple.
“Isn’t that right, Dr. Wolf?”
Belatedly realizing that her boss and the reporter had been conversing the entire time, Prissy plastered on a smile and smoothly concurred, “That’s right, Dr. Dewhurst. I couldn’t agree more.”
By ten o’clock, the fire station was mostly deserted.
All the votes had been counted and collected by the county election officials, who would publicly announce the results tomorrow. The poll workers and volunteers had left, along with the school board members who’d hung around to make speeches and celebratory toasts once the polls officially closed. At Prissy’s adamant insistence, Roxanne had gone home to make sure her husband had put the kids to bed, while Gayle and Jake had departed together, walking so close that the sides of their legs brushed.
Only Stan and Prissy remained behind to finish cleaning up. When she told him to go home and check on the boys, he flatly refused, insisting that he’d promised to lock up the firehouse, and there was no way in hell he’d leave her there alone at that time of night.
As they worked in silence, a heavy thunderstorm swept through the area, causing the overhead lights to flicker intermittently.
As Prissy tossed leftover refreshments into the last of the trash bags, she stole covert glances at her husband, who was cleaning the black-and-white linoleum floor with a dust mop. One of the advantages of being married to a firefighter was that he wasn’t averse to doing domestic work. Stan and his crew members, like firefighters everywhere, took great pride in keeping their fire station spotless.
“So,” Prissy began very casually, “did you see Dr. Gilliard?”
Stan glanced up sharply from his task. “What?”
“I said,” Prissy repeated coolly, “did you see Dr. Gilliard? She was here tonight. With her parents, I think.”
“Yeah?”Stan’s voice was neutral. “I didn’t see her.”
“Hmm.”
He frowned at her. “What?”
