Striker believed that returning to Little Rock had been the best thing for him. Visiting the old neighborhood had put a lot of things in perspective. He had visited the graves of his mom, Ray and Wade, and he had even stopped by his old high school, Little Rock Central. Coach Rivers was still there after all these years, and still had that old newspaper clipping framed on the wall, showing how Striker had led his football team to become national champions in his senior year.
He had enjoyed talking with Coach Rivers. The man was still a motivator and inspiration. Striker had never gotten around to thanking the man for standing up for him, being at the trial each day and becoming a character witness on his behalf. The testimony of Coach Rivers, some of his other teachers and a few of his neighbors had been beneficial in Striker getting a lesser sentence.
Thanks to Ray Jennings, they’d lived in a nice neighborhood and now a lot of the homes had been remodeled and were owned by a lot of preppies. He had walked his old neighborhood and was surprised to see many of the places he frequented as a kid were still there. Most had gotten a needed face-lift.
Last but not least, he’d gone to see Lamar Guyton, the father who had never acknowledged Striker’s existence. It had taken him two days to find out the man had had a stroke a few years ago and was in a nursing home. Striker had gone to the nursing home to discover a man who couldn’t even feed himself. Striker had apologized to Lamar Guyton for hating him all those years. After the apology Striker had left.
He had done a lot of soul-searching in Little Rock. He’d been able to walk away from his past and return to Charlottesville. To Margo. To his future. Sheppard had been right. Now he was ready to get on with his life, and more than anything, he wanted Margo in it. Of course, they wouldn’t rush things. He wanted to date her properly. Find out all those things she liked to do. What helped tremendously was knowing she loved him. She had told him so, and now it was time that he shared how he felt about her.
He hadn’t let anyone know he was returning to Charlottesville today and hadn’t talked to Margo since walking out of her house two weeks ago. But he was back and he was more than ready to claim the woman he loved. He just hoped nothing had changed, and she still loved him as well.
*
“WHAT DO YOU mean you can’t do it? I paid you,” Liz almost screamed into the phone.
“Look, lady, I know you paid me, but I need to be careful now. I don’t know who, but somebody is watching me. Possibly an undercover cop or something.”
Liz didn’t like the sound of that. Maybe she should just back off and forget her revenge on Margo. But she’d had almost three weeks to stew. And seeing that photo in the society column of yesterday’s paper hadn’t helped. Frazier had taken another woman to some big charity bash this past weekend. The two of them had been smiling for the camera. How dare he see someone else this soon? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to hurt Frazier and knew the only way was by doing something to his niece.
“Fine. Just give me my money back.” The resounding click in her ear told her the man had hung up. She began cursing to the top of her lungs, and she placed the blame squarely on Frazier’s shoulders. First she would take care of his niece and then him.
Pacing her apartment, she came up with a plan, one she could handle herself. Crossing the room to her bedroom, she opened the drawer to her nightstand. Pulling out the revolver she kept there, she dropped it in her purse and left.
*
MARGO PUSHED AWAY from the sewing machine and stood to work the kinks out of her neck. Claudine would be arriving any minute. She had finally gotten around to calling her yesterday and they had agreed to meet today. As usual, Claudine sounded chipper and said she couldn’t wait to see the progress Margo had made on her gown. Likewise, Margo was anxious to see the material Claudine had chosen for the lining.
As she headed for the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee, she tried not to dwell on the fact that it had been two weeks since she’d heard from Striker. She knew he was out of town; Roland had told her that much when she’d asked about him. But Roland hadn’t said where he’d gone or when he would be back. She thought about him every morning when she got up and went to sleep dreaming about him at night. During the day she became enmeshed in her work, sometimes working from sunup to sundown on Claudine’s gown. She wished there was some way she could let Striker know that whatever demons he had to face he wouldn’t have to do it alone. He had her and her love.
Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. Accept the fact that Striker had gone and there was a chance he might not come back. That he thought his issues were bigger than their love and that he didn’t love her enough to even want to prove otherwise.
But she just refused to allow herself to believe that. He was the best thing to ever happen to her. All she had to do was think of the time she had wasted with Scott. She’d had to make a trip to the police station to give a statement regarding the attempted kidnapping, namely her conversations with Freddie Siskin. Thanks to Striker, both calls from Freddie had been recorded on her phone. Scott had called last week trying to convince her that he had tried talking Freddie out of his plans. In the end, Scott had lost his job because of his alleged involvement. She’d told him he should choose his friends more wisely and to never call her again. To be certain that she didn’t hear from him, she blocked his number. She wanted to put that part of her life behind her and build a future only with Striker. But it would have to be his decision.
Hearing the sound of the doorbell, she guessed it was Claudine, but she checked through the peephole to verify.
She opened the door and smiled. “Claudine, it’s good seeing you.”
“Same here,” Claudine said with a bubbly smile on her face. “And I can’t wait to show you the material for my lining.”
Margo glanced past Claudine. “I don’t see your car.”
Claudine chuckled. “Stan dropped me off. We have a lunch date with his parents to go over the guest list and he figured if he controlled the time I’m here then we wouldn’t be late meeting his parents. He gave me an hour and then he’s coming back to get me.”
Margo grinned as she stepped aside for Claudine to enter. “He sounds like a man who knows you have a problem with time.”
“So he claims.” Claudine then glanced around. “And where is that gorgeous hunk who was here the last time I came by? I believe his name was Lamar.”
Margo told her the truth—at least what she did know. “He’s out of town.”
“Oh, phooey. I was hoping to see him again. I like him.”
I like him too, Margo thought. In fact, she loved him. Instead of saying anything about that, she led Claudine to her workroom. “I think you’ll like what I’ve done so far.”
“I can’t wait.”
They had walked into Margo’s workroom when suddenly there was a knock at her door. She looked at Claudine and smiled. “That’s not your fiancé coming back for you already, is it?”
Claudine shook her head as if she was annoyed at the interruption. “I doubt it. He said he would give me an hour.” She then looked at Margo accusingly. “You didn’t book another appointment the same time as mine, did you?”
Margo drew in a deep breath, knowing how Claudine liked being the center of attention. “No, Claudine, I didn’t double book. It’s probably someone selling something. I’ll get rid of them and be back.”
“Fine.”
Leaving her office, she closed the door behind her and headed toward the front, wondering who on earth it could be. She reached the door and looked through the peephole. It was Liz Tillman. Why would her uncle’s ex-girlfriend be here? Striker had warned her there was a chance Liz would seek her out because Liz blamed her for her breakup with Frazier. Now was not a good time to have to deal with Liz, but she couldn’t very well pretend she wasn’t home, not when her car was parked in the driveway. Margo opened the door. “What do you want, Liz? I’m busy.”
“We need to talk.”
“Sorry, but a client is here and—”
“You’re lying. There’s no other car parked in the driveway but yours,” Liz said, taking advantage of the open door to push her way inside Margo’s home.