Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [83]
And had turned into a storm cloud when Ann Banister arrived in town.
Ann stepped onto the porch of the Stone's home at six o'clock sharp and rang the bell. The scent of roses from a bush on either side of the door filled the air. Next to that was a hand-painted sign—from the artists-under-seven set by the look of it—which said Welcome to My Grampa and Gramma's House.
"Good to see you, Ann." Tricia welcomed Ann and motioned her inside with swift hand gestures.
After Tricia took her coat and they had a bit of prerequisite small talk, Tricia called out for Taylor to join them. "Our guest is here, the rest of your article for Fish Fly can wait."
"In a minute," came a muffled reply somewhere toward the back of the house.
"He still writes?"
"Not much for publication. Just for a few fly-fishing magazines, a couple of Web sites, and a couple of blogs."
Taylor stepped into the living room and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure, Ms. Banister."
"No, the pleasure is mine, Mr. Stone." Ann glanced around the room. "You have a lovely home."
Taylor gave a razor-thin smile. "I see you have your manners. I can certainly appreciate it, even if the house isn't that impressive. I'm sure it's nowhere close to a big-shot TV host's home."
"I never say anything unless I mean it." Ann's eyes locked on to Taylor's.
His face stayed sullen, but his eyes twinkled for a moment as he moved his head a millimeter to the side.
Tricia cleared her throat. "If you'd like to take a seat, dinner is ready."
Ann settled into her chair, but Taylor stood and watched Tricia waltz into the kitchen. He glanced at her and his face reddened. Embarrassment? That didn't make sense. Fear? No, it looked closer to shame. Before Ann could decide, he excused himself, walked out of the room, and didn't come back till after Tricia returned with a plate piled with chicken dijon.
"So, do you like being a celebrity?" Tricia sat and spread her napkin on her lap.
"I am so not a celebrity." Ann laughed and as she did, Taylor blinked as if he'd been shocked.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Muscle spasm. Fine." Taylor patted his chest.
Taylor sat on her right, Tricia on her left. The hidden looks Tricia kept giving Taylor weren't well concealed. She was obviously concerned about something going on in her husband's head. And it was evident the something had to do with Ann. His strange behavior was definitely an interesting little subplot to add to Cameron's quest.
"I read your columns in The Oregonian growing up, and now you're writing for fly-fishing magazines?" Ann said. "Is fishing a hobby of yours?"
Taylor answered by springing from his chair and trotting over to the built-in oak bookshelves next to the fireplace. He returned with a large blue photo album and flipped it open on the table next to Ann. The pages were filled with pictures of Taylor fly-fishing, captions underneath with dates scrawled in a blue pen, and the names of at least forty different rivers throughout the western part of the United States.
As Ann flipped through the pictures, Taylor asked, "Why didn't you take the NBC job when they offered to buy out your contract? I know your show is national, but NBC had to be offering you more money than you're making now."
Ann looked up in surprise. "Wow, you really did do some research on me."
"I've been a newspaper man for thirty years. It's hard to get it out of the system, you know?" Taylor filled up Ann's water glass.
"I think success should be measured in wealth of friendships, not things. And I wanted to keep my portfolio intact as much as possible."
Tricia answered with a smile and a nod. Taylor didn't respond.
For a few minutes the only sound was the clink of forks and knives.
"So you're in Three Peaks to help Cameron look into the Book of God legend?" Taylor finally asked.
"Book of Days." Ann took a bite of salad and turned to Tricia. "That is excellent. The walnuts make it, don't you think?" She turned back to