A Man of Influence by Melinda Curtis

quickly.” Rose nodded sagely. “You don’t want to be an old maid.”
    â€œI’m twenty-six.” Hardly over the hill. And certainly not stupid enough to fall for a man who made his living writing a bachelor column.
    â€œWe could give you dating pointers.” Agnes chuckled, perhaps realizing how ridiculous Tracy might find that statement. Perhaps not.
    The three town council ladies drove away.
    If Tracy controlled her aphasia, she’d clue everyone in to Chad’s intentions. If Tracy controlled her aphasia, she’d get out of town. And she needed to get out of town or she’d be an old maid. So she needed to control her aphasia.
    She’d been twirling the dandelion. She blew its seeds into the wind and began singing softly. And then louder, forcing the words out, which only made her stumble more.

CHAPTER FIVE
    S OMEONE WAS SINGING the alphabet song. Someone who wasn’t five. Someone who hesitated over the letters.
    Recognizing that voice, Chad smiled, quickening his pace as he approached a curve in the road.
    She’s not the story.
    He ignored the voice that usually guided him to the good stuff.
    â€œNow I know my...ABCs.” There was a pause and then a strangled, “Next time. Won’t you. Sing with me.” Tracy made a frustrated sound and shouted, “Nuts!”
    Chad rounded the bend. Tracy was leaning over a rail on a bridge. She had her back to him and gripped the railing as if considering launching herself over it.
    â€œDon’t jump,” he shouted, grinning because he didn’t believe she planned to leap to her doom.
    â€œThere is no place...” she hung her head “...private in this town.”
    â€œYou could try working on your speech therapy at home.”
    â€œI live above the bakery.” Her cheeks bloomed with color and she shuffled her sneakered feet. She looked as if she wanted to teleport to another dimension. “The walls have ears.”
    The bridge was a narrow two-laner with a silver metal railing. It spanned forty feet. Both banks were thick with foliage and trees that created a shady oasis. But in the center of the bridge it was sunny and Tracy’s hair was almost as yellow as the T-shirt beneath her tan jacket.
    Again, he recognized this wasn’t the story he needed. Again, he walked toward Tracy, stepping onto the bridge.
    She eyed him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.
    â€œYou have a nice singing voice.” He should have kept silent. Silence had served him well at the Lampoon . Silence created spaces others rushed to fill. But silence lacked the smiles and laughter and jokes he’d missed. “It’s the truth.” May as well fill the hole he was digging with her with something.
    â€œTruth?” Tracy fixed him with a look that said she recognized what he was filling that hole with. “You introduced yourself as Chad Healy. Not Chad Healy Bostwick.”
    â€œHealy is my legal name. My mom was angry with my dad the day I was born. She left his name off the birth certificate.” And she’d been angry with Dad the day she’d died, furious that he’d never given up cigars and had developed cancer. After reading his father’s last wishes concerning the Lampoon , Chad could understand how she felt.
    With a wave of her hand, Tracy let the issue of his name drop. “What are you doing out here? Did Leona kick you out?” She didn’t mince words, but she also didn’t seem to realize her speech had smoothed since her acapella performance.
    â€œNo.” He leaned on the railing next to her. “I’m searching for the angle I want to take on my story.” Were there more crotchety people like Leona in town? Did it have more to offer than good coffee and reputedly good wine?
    â€œYou? Searching?” So much passion. It radiated from the disbelief in her blue eyes to her expressive hands. He never would’ve guessed all that