Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3)

By dusk, the rain had moved in, sweeping across the lake in a bank of black clouds, then fading to a sulky drizzle as the night wore on.

Brianna lay on her bed, curled under the pink and blue afghan her mother had crocheted more than a decade ago. She held her phone, cradling it against her cheek as she talked with Liam.

“When I ride the bike, it’s like something’s missing,” he said. “It’s you, holding on behind me.”

“I miss you, too,” she said.

“How was your first day as a reporter?”

She laughed. “Not bad. I got to interview people at the fish hatchery for a feature in the next edition. Not exactly Pulitzer Prize material, but at least it’ll help my résume.”

“And the application to Northwestern?”

“I emailed it off tonight. But I don’t have a good feeling about it. I’m applying to Missouri State as well, just in case.”

“Smart move.” He hesitated. “I have some news, too. My boss here at the garage has offered me a buy-in partnership. I pay him what I’ve saved up, then a percentage of what I make every month. When he retires in five years, I can refinance the balance and have my own business.”

“Oh,” Brianna said. Should she be happy or devastated? Owning the garage was Liam’s dream. But it would tie him to Evanston for years, if not for life. What if she couldn’t go back to Northwestern? Did she love Liam enough to give up her own dream to be with him?

“I don’t have to make a decision right away,” Liam said. “But it would help to know what you and I would be looking at. You’re an important part of all this, Brianna.”

After telling him goodnight and ending the call, Brianna lay back on the pillow, tears flooding her eyes. What if Northwestern didn’t let her back in? She had a B-plus average—not bad but not outstanding. And the fact that she’d dropped out of fall semester because of an arrest wouldn’t help her case.

She couldn’t afford to wait for months, or even weeks, for an answer, especially when that answer would likely be no. She would give it a couple of days, then call the dean, she decided. At least, after that, she’d have a better idea of what to expect.

She could only hope that she wouldn’t have to choose between getting her education and being with Liam.

So many decisions to make. What if she were to be reaccepted by Northwestern, only to learn that her father couldn’t spare the money to pay her tuition? She would have to get a job or a student loan, maybe both—not the end of the world, but these things would take planning.

She’d thought about talking to her father. But lately, he’d seemed so preoccupied that she could barely get through to him. Garrett had always been willing to lend her an ear. Allison had warned her to avoid him, but surely he was still her friend. Surely he’d be able to give her a clear picture of what was happening with the business, and perhaps offer some practical advice.

Maybe in the next few days she would give him a call, or drop by the office as she’d often done in past years. After all, what harm could it possibly do?

CHAPTER 12

The next morning, Allison drove Burke to the bank to deliver the loan application. Burke had insisted that he could drive himself, but since he was still on pain meds, and not allowed behind the wheel, Allison had talked him out of it.

Even with the low-dose opioids the doctor had limited him to, she could tell he was in pain. Showered, shaved, and dressed in wool slacks, a cashmere polo shirt, and a tweed sport jacket, he looked strong and healthy. But he sat gingerly in the car, bracing his body against the bumps and turns, and grimacing when the small car hit a rough patch of road.

Last night she’d told him everything that she’d seen and heard at the agency, including the presence of the Edgeway lawyer, the plans for the client contracts, and the fact that Garrett was sleeping with the new receptionist.

She’d left out just one thing—Garrett’s move on her at the restaurant. Telling Burke about that small incident would have triggered a blowup.

This morning Burke appeared calm on the surface. But Allison knew he was seething with anxiety. His partner had betrayed him, and the business he’d worked half a lifetime to build was being stolen from him by a gang of criminals.

Only the bank loan could save him.

Allison pulled into a parking spot outside the bank. “Do you want me to go inside with you?” she asked.

“No, wait here.” He climbed out of the car with the application in his hand. Allison watched as he walked to the bank entrance, making a painful effort to balance his stride. He was doing his best to appear fully recovered, but he was far from it. She couldn’t help being proud of him. He was her warrior, returning to battle in spite of his wounds.

How she loved him, this proud, stubborn, gallant man of hers.

She waited, the minutes crawling past. They’d arrived at the bank at 9:30. It was 9:50 when he came out again and walked toward the car, limping slightly now. He looked pale and shaken. Allison’s heart dropped.

“What is it?” she asked as he climbed into the car. “Did they take your application?”

“Yes.” He sank into the seat with visible pain. “They said everything looked good, but it’s a lot of money. They promised to get back to me in the next couple of days.”