True believer - Nicholas Sparks [66]
Despite the tension, Lexie laughed. “That sounds like something that could only happen to Rachel.”
“She got over it. And it’s not like it made her bitter or anything. She keeps getting back on the horse, you know.”
“Sometimes I think she needs to pick better horses. Or at least ones without giant bugs on the car.”
He chuckled, as if thinking the same thing. Their eyes met for an instant, then Lexie turned away. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well, listen, I should probably head inside,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“Are you coming in?”
“I’m not sure yet. I wasn’t planning on staying that long. And besides, I’m still on call. The county is pretty big for one person, and Bruce is the only one in the field right now.”
She nodded. “Well, if I don’t see you again tonight, keep safe, okay?”
“I will. See you later.”
She began moving toward the door.
“Hey, Lexie?”
She turned. “Yes?”
He swallowed. “You look nice, too, by the way.”
The sad way he said it nearly broke her heart, and her eyes dipped for an instant. “Thank you,” she said.
Rachel and Jeremy kept a low profile, moving around the edges of the crowd, as Rachel showed him the paintings of various members of the Lawson family who shared a striking resemblance not only from one generation to the next but, strangely, across genders as well. The men had effeminate qualities, and the women tended to be masculine, thus making it seem as if every artist had used the same androgynous model.
But he appreciated the fact that Rachel was keeping him occupied and out of harm’s way, even if she refused to release his arm. He could hear people talking about him but wasn’t quite ready to mingle yet, even if the whole thing did leave him feeling just a bit flattered. Nate hadn’t been able to rustle up a tenth of this number of people to watch his television appearance, and he’d had to offer free booze as an enticement to get even that many to show.
Not here, though. Not in small-town America, where people played bingo, went bowling, and watched reruns of Matlock on TNT. He hadn’t seen so much blue hair and polyester since . . . well, since ever, and as he was pondering the whole situation, Rachel squeezed his arm to get his attention.
“Get ready, darlin’. It’s showtime.”
“Excuse me?”
She looked past him, toward the rising commotion behind them.
“Well, Mayor Tom, how are you?” Rachel asked, beaming that Hollywood smile again.
Mayor Gherkin seemed to be the only person in the room who was perspiring. His bald head was shiny in the light, and if he seemed surprised that Jeremy was with Rachel, he didn’t show it.
“Rachel! You are looking lovely as always, and I see you’ve been sharing the illustrious past of this fine home with our guest here.”
“Doing my best,” she said.
“Good, good. I’m glad to hear it.” They engaged in more small talk before Gherkin got to the point.
“And I hate to ask you this, being that you’ve been kind enough to tell him about this fine establishment, but would you mind?” he said, motioning to Jeremy. “People are excited to get this fine event started.”
“Not at all,” she answered, and in the next instant, the mayor had replaced Rachel’s hand with his own and began leading Jeremy through the crowd.
As they walked, people quieted and moved off to the side, like the Red Sea parting for Moses. Others stared with wide eyes or craned their necks to get a better view. People oohed and aahed, whispering aloud that it must be him.
“I can’t tell you how glad we are that you finally made it,” Mayor Gherkin said, speaking from the corner of his mouth and continuing to smile to the crowd. “For a minute there, I was beginning to worry.”
“Maybe we should wait for Lexie,” Jeremy answered, trying to keep his cheeks from turning red. This whole thing, especially being escorted by the mayor like a prom queen, was just a little bit too small-town America, not to mention a little on the weird side.
“I’ve already spoken to her, and