Page 67 of Deadly Vendetta

She snorted. “I’d guess activity would discourage someone from driving up that long lane. Unless they had a bone to pick with you.” After another long sip of coffee, she folded her gnarled hands on the table. “I hired some women to work on your house yesterday and today. They’ve scrubbed the floors and walls, washed the curtains and rugs, and aired out the place. It should be okay if you want to return. If not, I’ll understand and will cancel your lease.”

From the corner of his eye, Zach caught several young women at other tables watching him with interest. One of them artfully crossed her slim legs and ran a hand through her long, curly brown hair the moment she caught his eye.

“We’ll be moving back there as soon as possible,” he muttered.

Martha glanced at the other table, and her mouth quirked into a wry smile.

Katie held up her empty lemonade glass to show Zach. “Can I go see the dollhouse?”

“Go ahead, honey. Just don’t wander any further, okay?”

With a nod Katie slid out of her seat and darted to the back of the café, then dropped to her knees next to the dollhouse. Zach hoped she might squeal with delight, but she just stared at it for several minutes.

Then she reached inside the living room, tipped a female figure on its side and rocked back on her heels, her eyes infinitely sad.

They both watched the child for a moment, then Martha abruptly turned back to Zach. “You probably don’t remember me from when you lived here last. Young bucks like yourself usually see old folks around town as just so much wallpaper, and I know you weren’t in town for very long.”

At a lift of his brow, she shrugged. “Being postmistress meant I always knew about what went on in Fossil Hill. And I’ve known Vivian—Dana’s mom—since we were both in diapers. So naturally I’d be even more aware of her family than most.”

Zach nodded.

“When Dana started going out with you during your senior year, I remember worrying about her. You weren’t a local boy. You had an air of...danger. Of trouble looking for a place to happen.”

“I was just eighteen.”

“But you were a boy who’d seen a lot during those eighteen years. I knew you and your mom moved around a lot, and that she worked at a bar.” Martha cleared her throat delicately. “Well, I’m sure you know what I mean.”

A flicker of anger burned in Zach’s gut as he remembered the endless new towns, the many schools. The small-minded people who had expected the worst from a kid who’d given up on the thought of ever having roots and friends and the white-picket-fence life he’d only seen on TV.

His mother had never been able to find the right job, the right man, during his youth, but her inability to settle down hadn’t been his fault.

“I’m not sure where this is headed.”

Flags of color appeared in Martha’s parchment-pale cheeks. “I still worry about Dana, young man. She’s a sweet girl, and she’s like a niece to me. I remember how destroyed she was years ago when you left.”

“You never...heard rumors about why my mother and I left town so suddenly?”

She gave him a blank look. “Rumors? We all knew you up and left, if that’s what you mean. Ed, down at the bar, said your mother didn’t even give any notice.”

So the details of that last night hadn’t become common knowledge. Interesting.

Martha waited a beat, then continued. “And now, with you and Dana seeing each other again...” She flapped a hand in consternation. “I just worry about what sort of business you might really be in, and if trouble might have followed you here. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“Trouble?”

Martha had the grace to look uncomfortable. “It’s just that something doesn’t seem quite right. Your references proved valid—I checked before I rented you the house. Yet I can’t see you working as a software salesman.”

“I’ll hope my boss doesn’t agree with you. I could find myself job hunting.”

She ignored him. “And lately, a stranger in town has been asking questions about you.”

Though his thoughts started racing, Zach tried for an easy grin. “I’ve no idea who that could be.”

Martha’s mouth thinned. “Are you running from someone?”

“Whatever you think of me, I’ve never been on the wrong side of the law. Not once. Maybe this guy is on vacation, and my boss told him to look me up. What did he look like?”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with doubt. “Not very tall—maybe five foot six or seven. Hispanic. Wiry build. Ball cap. Sunglasses...I wouldn’t know if they were prescription or not.”

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