Mr. Unforgettable by Karina Bliss Page B

weeks.
    â€œThat’s because my motives are pure,” Liz said sweetly.
    â€œLook deeper,” he suggested.
    Stopping for gas on the way to camp, Liz damned Snowy’s acuity. Morally, it was the right thing to support the camp, but only her friendship with Luke had pushed her into confronting her phobia.
    And, heaven help her, not all her thoughts of that man were pure.
    Pulling out her cell phone, Liz dialed the editor of the Beacon Bay Chronicle , and for the second time that day crossed her fingers. A third-generation family business, the newspaper was so firmly entrenched that no rival had ever survived. The monopoly allowed the Swann owners to operate according to their own idiosyncratic code.
    The current editor, Josephine Swann, was a thirty-year-old Katherine Hepburn. “I won’t stab you in the back,” she’d told Liz at their first interview. “I always attack from the front.” Liz had a couple of scars to remind her never to mistake their mutual regard for friendship.
    Fortunately Jo loved the idea of photographing politicians doing manual labor.
    â€œI need a new angle for the weekly electoral countdown,” she said. “Incidentally, you do realize that you’re the only politician who hasn’t been hounding me for coverage? Does that mean you’re confident of winning?”
    â€œOh, no, you don’t. I’m not giving you any reason to use the headline Mayor Declares Competition Sucks.”
    Jo laughed. “You’re getting too clever for me. See you there.”
    â€œMake it as late as you can, will you? Let’s get some work out of them first.”
    While she waited for her gas tank to fill, Liz washed the sedan’s windscreen, trying to distract herself from the impending ordeal.
    â€œBeth?”
    She dropped the squeegee back into the water bucket and turned around automatically. And found herself looking at a stranger, a tall, slim brunette in cutoff shorts and a baggy pink T-shirt.
    Then the name the woman had used registered and she hid her shock under a polite smile.
    â€œI’m sorry…. What did you call me?”
    â€œBeth…Beth Sloane.” Doubt entered the woman’s voice. “It is you, isn’t it?”
    Her childhood name…Liz opened her mouth to agree. “No,” she said instead. “If I look familiar it’s probably because you’ve seen me on election billboards. I’m Elizabeth Light, the mayor.”
    â€œThat could be it.” Liz tried not to flinch as the woman’s curious gaze lingered on her face. “The likeness is amazing.”
    â€œReally?” Liz turned back to her car and replaced the petrol cap. She’d been expecting this day for years; now it had come, she couldn’t deal with it. “I get that all the time. Apparently I have doubles in Bluff, Christchurch, Hamilton….” She rattled off a few more towns and cities, nowhere near Auckland. “Does nothing for the ego I can tell you.” Shock made her ramble; she’d finally recognized this woman. “You’re passing through?” she asked as casually as she could. Please God, be passing through .
    â€œNo, my husband and I just moved here. I’m Rosie Cormack, by the way.”
    Reluctantly, Liz took the woman’s outstretched hand, hoping her childhood acquaintance wouldn’t notice her cold fingers. “Welcome to Beacon Bay, Rosie. So what brings you to our neck of the woods?” Tell me you’re isolated on a dairy farm somewhere .
    â€œI’m a counselor at Camp Chance. Though today I’m a de facto decorator.” Ruefully, Rosie scraped at a paint spot on her T-shirt. “I’ve been picking up extra paintbrushes in town.”
    â€œCamp Chance,” Liz repeated. It was the last thing she expected.
    Wariness came into Rosie’s eyes. Obviously she’d already met a few detractors. “That’s right…well, I