CHAPTER EIGHT
Daniel hit the intercom button. “Bonnie, can you find the numbers of the photographers who tried to help Ms. Vandemark?”
“Yes, Mr. Crawford, and I have the confirmation for your trip to London. The service will be here at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow to take you to O’Hare. I hope you don’t mind—business class was full, I put you in first.” Daniel didn’t, he wasn’t nearly as uptight about spending a few extra dollars as his grandfather had been. Bonnie had worked for both his father and grandfather and tried to maintain their miserly standards. When Daniel visited the office as a child, she would sneak him candy. She often talked about retiring, but he kept giving her raises and more vacation time.
“I’m happy you found a flight to accommodate the meetings, and I won’t complain about wasting money when it was my fault and I get extra room on a red-eye.”
“I think the photographers are named in the police report.”
“Thanks, Bonnie.”
Daniel turned back to his computer. The compromise contracts his legal team had drafted looked solid. Thankfully they had limited themselves to one apologetic email about missing the clause regarding using his image for the British firm’s advertising purposes. The ad agency had tried to backpedal. Hence the reason he was meeting with them on Wednesday afternoon and their competitor on Thursday morning. With any luck, he could fly back on Friday and be at the Indiana property for the weekend before he had to deal with the courts in New York. He wanted to see Mandy again. Even if now was not a convenient time to start a relationship.
What was he thinking?
Renewing a friendship—that was all he was doing. No matter how fun or attractive he found Amanda, friendship was the extent of it. He'd plotted out the possibilities of a relationship on a spreadsheet after arriving back in Chicago early yesterday morning. Logically each one failed, but logic was not doing a good job at overruling his heart. But his current plan had nothing to do with his heart. It had everything to do with being a decent human.
Bonnie tapped on the door before entering. “One of the photographers is Vic Jamison. His primary residence is listed as Park Ridge. Did you know he was local?”
“I think he mentioned it.” Daniel reached for the paper she held. Instead of handing it to him, she turned, closed the door, and took her favorite chair to the side of his desk.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. And don’t tell me it’s about the old place and land developers. Usually when you take a few days down at the property you come back focused and refreshed. This time you are all wound up.”
Daniel had two choices. He could tell her the truth now or wait until she wrung the details out of him. “I met an old friend, and the reunion didn’t go very well.”
“Does this have anything to do with the medical-bill payment Colin sent through to the private account?”
Of course she saw it. Why hadn’t he called her last week?
“It’s the little girl from that summer, isn’t it? I thought I recognized the name.” Bonnie stared at him for a moment. “Only she doesn’t match your memories of the mud-pie making tomboy, does she? Glory be! I see retirement coming faster than I thought.” Bonnie practically jumped from her seat.
“You have it all wrong. There is no way a relationship would fly. I tried to work it out on four different spreadsheets.”
“Love is not a business merger. You can’t plot out a risk-benefit analysis, because there are factors that defy even the most complicated mathematical formulas.”
“I am not in love.” Then why had he written that quote in the laundry room? ‘Good fences make good neighbors but lousy lovers.’ He started out writing the first half, a Robert Frost line familiar to the area due to its use at the Menno-Hof Mennonite Amish Visitor Center in Shipshewana, but then he’d pictured the new, unclimbable fence that replaced the old pole one at the estate and added the last part.
“But you are afraid you may be if given time, right?”
Daniel leaned back and contemplated the ceiling. If he had laser vision, he’d make the fire sprinkler go off to cool this conversation down. “Twenty years has built a huge fence in our lives. I don’t know where to go.” He let out a sigh. “May I have the photographer’s information? And no, it has nothing to do with the Vandemark mess. It is about a broken camera.”
Bonnie laid the paper on the desk. “One year, Daniel, and I am out of here and off to the little place in Arizona whether or not you have found another way to guard your door against all the single females in the building.”
“Thanks, Bonnie, you are a gem.”
“Don’t you forget it. One year, Daniel. One year.”
Marriage. Bonnie was convinced a change in his marital status would stop the stream of women trying to wheedle their way into his life.
Daniel pulled into a parking spot in front of the camera store Vic had suggested. Now he just needed to stay in the store long enough for the photographer to set up and get the exclusive shot he wanted, a fair trade.
Fortunately for Daniel, the “leaked photo” would serve a dual purpose. First, by confusing those whose livelihoods depended on keeping people like him in the headlines, and second, by informing the one person he needed to know that not everything was what it seemed. If he didn’t see her this weekend, she needed to understand before he went to New York.
“Mr. Crawford, welcome to my little shop. Vic called me and gave me an idea of what you were looking for, and I pulled out a few models for you to inspect.” The owner’s smile indicated he knew he had a sure sale.
Forty-five minutes later, Daniel’s phone vibrated with Vic’s text.
Sorry—traffic. Ready when you are.
Thanks
Daniel ended his impromptu photography lesson and walked to his car to the click, click, click of Vic’s camera.