8- Open Windows to innocence

Since the whole purpose of coming to Winding River had been to clear her head
and decide what to do to save her restaurant, Hazel awoke at what she considered
to be the unholy hour of 7:00 a.m. on Sunday morning determined to get on with
that assignment. The only way she was able to drag herself out of bed was by
reminding herself that it was nine in the morning in New York.
With Mr. Lee turning up almost everywhere she went, the only way she was
going to have any time to herself wasto sneak out of her own house and take a
drive into the nearby Snowy Range, where distractions were few and far
between. And she had to do it before he turned up to accompany her or trail
along behind like some sort of watchdog.
A glance outside told her it was the perfect day for going for a drive and then
maybe even a hike. The sky was a crystal-clear blue with floating puffs of white
clouds. The temperature had dropped overnight and promised to stay lower
throughout the day. And there were no reunion events until the picnic at midday.
But before she could make her escape, she bumped straight into her parents,
lingering over Sunday breakfast in the kitchen. They regarded her with surprise,
no doubt because they so rarely saw her before noon.
“What on earth are you doing up so early, darling?” her mother asked. “You
had a late night. It was after midnight when I heard you come in. How was the
dance?”
Hazel thought of the time she’d spent in Mr. Lee’s arms. For a man who’d
professed to have no skill on the dance floor at all, he’d been astonishingly adept
at everything from the waltz to the twist. Apparently it was only the Texastwo-
step that eluded him, despite his pitiful claim that he’d had no time for dances as
a younger man. When she’d called him on it, he’d simply shrugged and insisted
he was only following her lead.
Asif, she thought dryly. She doubted he’d ever let anyone get a head start on
him, much less lead him anywhere. She sighed at that. It was something she
needed to keep in mind.
“The dance was fine,” she said.
“Meet anyone interesting?” her mother asked, her expression just a little too innocent.
“What have you heard?” Hazel asked, regarding her with resignation.
Her father frowned. “Yes, Jane, what have you heard? I’d like to know, too.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes, it’s nothing shocking,” her mother said with a hint
of exasperation. “Rose Ellen just happened to mention that Hazel was with an
incredibly handsome man at the rodeo yesterday afternoon.”
George Petrillo seemed no more convinced by that innocuous explanation
than Hazel was.
“And?” he prodded.
“The man kissed me,” Hazel blurted, hoping to save them all the
embarrassment of a long, drawn-out debate. “It was nothing.”
Her mother grinned. “That’s not the way I heard it. Rose Ellen said it made
her toes curl.”
“Jane Petrillo, I hope you weren’t discussing your daughter’s lack of
discretion with half the town,” her father said, his expression dismayed. Asthe
owner of the local insurance company, he tended to worry first about what his
customers might think. Hazel had done enough outrageous, risky things with the
Calamity Janesin high school to turn his hair gray. He always swore he’d taken
out extra accident and liability insurance on the family just because of her
dangerous shenanigans.
“No, of course not,” Jane said, giving him a soothing pat on the hand. “Just
Rose Ellen. She brought it up. I must say I found it fascinating.” She turned to
Hazel. “I had no idea you’d brought a fellow home for the reunion. Why haven’t
we met him?”
“I didn’t bring him. He’s not here for the reunion. And you haven’t met him
because I sincerely wish that I’d never met him,” Hazel said, reaching for the
carkeys, even though the drive no longer held much appeal. “I’m going out.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, but I won’t be long.”
She walked out before they could pester her with more questions. As she
paused on the back steps to take a deep, calming breath, she heard her mother
ask, “What do you suppose is going on?”
“I have no idea,” her father said grumpily. “But I’m sure half the town will
know about it before we do. That’s what comes from letting her go off and spend
all that time in Europe. She’s come home with a lot of wild ideas.”
“Oh, she has not,” her mother said, then added wistfully, “I just hope there is
something more to this. Wouldn’t it be nice to see her married? I can’t wait till
we have a houseful of grandchildren to spoil.”
Hazel’s groan was almost as heartfelt as her father’s. The speculation abouther and Mr. Lee O’Donnell was getting entirely out of hand and he’d only been
in town a couple of days. Right now all he was doing was shadowing her—
okay, and kissing her in public. Just wait till people around here found out what
he wasreally after.
Mr. Lee drove by the Petrillo house about 7:45 a.m. There was no sign of
Hazel,though from what he’d gathered, she was not exactly a morning person.
Still, hefound the fact that her mother’s car was missing this early on a Sunday
vaguely worrisome. Had Hazel taken off in it? Would her mother conspire to
help her daughter skip town? Leave the country? Maybe that remark Hazel had
made the day before about fleeing to Canada had been no joke.
Because he hated the way his imaHazeltion was running wild, he concluded
the best way to get to the truth would be to knock on the door and ask to see her.
For all he knew, the entire family might be at church, though most had services
that began later.
When a woman he assumed to be Mrs. Petrillo answered the door, he
understood where Hazel got her beauty. Her mother was probably in her late
forties, maybe even her early fifties, but she looked a decade younger. There
wasn’t a single strand of gray in her thick, dark hair. There was hardly a wrinkle
on her heart-shaped face. But while her daughter’s eyes were dark, Mrs.
Petrillo’s were a vibrant green, and they were studying him with undisguised
curiosity.
“May I help you?” she asked, when Mr. Lee remained speechless.
He gathered his composure. “Actually, I’m looking for your daughter, Mrs.
Petrillo. Is she here?”
“Ah,” she said, her expression brightening. “You must be the mysterious
man everyone is talking about.”
“I’m Mr. Lee O’Donnell,” he said, taken aback by the friendly welcome.
Obviously, the people talking were those who’d witnessed the kiss, and not
Hazelherself. He doubted she had painted him in a favorable light.
“My husband and I are just having a second cup of coffee, Mr. O’Donnell.
Will you join us? Hazel left a little while ago, but she shouldn’t be gone long.”
Never one to turn down caffeine or the chance to pump someone for
information about Hazel, he smiled. “I’d love a cup.”
In the cheerful, yellow kitchen with its warm oak cupboards and white trim,
she introduced Mr. Lee to her husband and invited him to make himself at home.
“Were your ears burning?” she asked. “We were talking about you not
fifteen minutes ago.”