Part 14 (1/2)
Taking one step at a time, Sam climbed to the porch. ”About that,” she said softly to avoid Jackson's overhearing her. ”I'd like to apologize for my behavior. You were trying to be kind and my reaction was rude.”
”Not to worry,” he said with a wave. ”We all say things we regret, and I understand that you have many things on your mind. Shall we forget it and move on?” He extended his hand.
Remembering that Fritz had been the one to find proof of the existence of her late-night visitor, she smiled and took the offered hand. ”I'd like that,” she replied, giving it a quick shake.
”Good.” Fritz glanced at Jackson, who was helping Anne unload the groceries. ”I was telling your fiance that I'm having a little get-together-nothing elaborate-tomorrow night, and I'd love for you both to attend.”
”Gee, Fritz,” she stuttered, ”I don't know-I-ah-”
”Now, Samantha, we're friends,” he said with a twinkle.
”Yes, but-”
Before she could finish, Jackson came up the steps carrying an armload of groceries. ”Did Fritz tell you about his party?”
”Yes-”
”I'm looking forward to it, Fritz,” Jackson continued as he opened the cabin door and motioned them both inside.
”But, Jackson-”
He cut her off as he placed the sacks on the kitchen table. ”It will be good for us, Samantha. It's been too long since we've done anything fun.” He looked over his shoulder at Fritz. ”It seems that Fritz and I share a love of music. In fact, he knew my mother.”
”Small world,” Sam muttered, surprised at the mention of his mother. Usually it was a topic he avoided.
”Yes, it is,” Fritz said, hearing Sam's remark. ”In fact, Dr. Van Horn-”
”Please, it's Jackson,” Jackson said with another glance at Fritz.
”Jackson's mother sponsored a couple of my more talented students while they were trying to get their musical careers started.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw a faint blush spread over Jackson's face.
”That must've been during the time I was living with my father,” he said quickly.
Fritz, noticing the other man's discomfort, abruptly changed the subject. ”Do you play?”
”A little . . . the piano-and only for my own enjoyment,” Jackson replied.
Fritz laid a hand on his shoulder. ”Why don't you join me and a few other musicians for one of our Sunday jam sessions?”
”I don't-” Jackson began with a shake of his head.
”It's strictly amateur,” Fritz said, cutting off Jackson's objection. ”And only for fun.”
”Okay-well, maybe some weekend, I will.”
Sam shot a look at Anne. Although it appeared that she wasn't paying attention to the conversation, Sam noticed her lips were tightly shut, as if she were fighting the urge to speak out. Sam would love to know what she was thinking. Did she approve of this sudden camaraderie between Jackson and Fritz? Sam had figured out that Anne had a bone to pick with Fritz over his involvement in her son's life. Maybe that was it? Or maybe Anne resented Jackson strolling in and usurping her position as boss-in-charge?
Sam gave a mental shrug. Either way, it didn't make a difference. She was still the p.a.w.n.
Suddenly Jackson stopped unpacking groceries as his attention traveled to her paintings, now propped up in a corner of the living room.
Striding over, he picked one up. ”Where did these come from?”
A heavy silence filled the room. Sam looked first at Fritz and then at Anne. It was as if they were both holding their breath, waiting for her to fly off the handle.
”Dan sent them,” she said smoothly, and arched an eyebrow. ”Dan's redecorated my office, and Dad was planning to donate them to charity. Know anything about that?”
Jackson flushed, letting Sam know her question had hit the mark. ”I'm sure it would've been to a good cause,” he answered defensively. He picked up the other painting and started down the hallway. ”Since there isn't any place to hang these, why don't we put them in the closet, out of sight,” he said, opening the hall closet and stuffing them inside.
Sam looked at Fritz and Anne again. Anne's mouth was so tight, her lips had disappeared.
”Are you looking forward to Fritz's party tomorrow night?” Anne asked as they walked down the gravel path.
Jackson, needing to contact his office, had stayed back at the cabin instead of joining them. And all Sam felt was relief.
”What do you think?” Sam asked snidely.
”Not so much,” Anne replied, ”but it might do you good.”
”I'm not going.”
”Dr. Van Horn wants to go.”
”Fine. He can go without me.”
”How are you going to get out of it?”
Sam chortled. ”In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty good at getting out of stuff if I really try.”
”I have noticed,” Anne replied with a grin, ”but I still think it would be good if you at least tried.”
”I don't have anything to wear.”
”I'll take you shopping tomorrow. There are a couple of shops in Pardo that will have something suitable.”
Sam shuddered. First shopping for groceries, now clothes. ”I don't think so.”
”Oh, come on. It won't kill you.”
Sam stole a glance her way. ”Will you be there?”
Anne gave a snort. ”Not likely. In case you haven't noticed-I'm one of the hired help around here. I don't get invitations to parties.”
”Well, I'm not going in any case,” Sam said stubbornly, then stopped. ”Fritz has never mentioned it, but is there a Mrs. Thorpe?”
”Nope. He's never been married.” Anne kicked a pebble with the toe of her shoe and sent it flying down the road.
Sam resumed walking. ”Girlfriend?”