Sunshine and the Shadowmaster by Christine Rimmer Page B

she’d read way too much into what was actually only a tender touch and a shared glance.
    Lucas’s child was missing. She had offered him words of comfort. She’d caressed his cheek; he’d clasped her hand. It was nothing to lie awake all night over—though that was exactly what she had done.
    It was a rough time, that was all. Her reactions to things couldn’t be trusted right now. The wisest course of action would be to forget that those few strange moments had ever happened.
    Which was precisely what she intended to do.
    * * *
    Tawny appeared at Heather’s door at five-thirty, so Heather arrived at the café before Lily that morning. She did all her own prep work, and then did most of her boss’s, too.
    â€œI could get used to this,” Lily told her, when she arrived at six.
    They opened the doors at seven.
    It was a busy morning. The café was packed with locals, as well as the usual summer contingent of tourists. And today there were other strangers—reporters mostly, Heather found out soon enough, each trying to elbow the other to get the real scoop on the Shadowmaster’s son. The reporters made awful nuisances of themselves, quizzing all the customers. And then Tyler Conley, a cousin of Jason Lee’s, spilled the beans to one of them that their waitress was Mark Drury’s aunt. After that, Heather could hardly take an order without being asked what Lucas Drury was really like.
    In spite of the brisk business, to Heather the day seemed interminable. And her nerves were shot. It was nothing short of an emotional roller coaster, waiting for news that they’d found some sign of Mark, experiencing fierce hope and then crushing disappointment every time the phone rang and it was only someone wanting a tuna on rye.
    Around noon, Heather was taking an order from a party of five when Tamara Wilbur, Lily’s other waitress, called out to her.
    â€œHey, Sunshine! Phone!”
    There were three more orders left to take, so Heather instructed over her shoulder, “Get a number. I’ll call back.”
    â€œUh-uh. He says only you can take this order. And it can’t wait.”
    Heather gave her customers a rueful smile. “Sorry. Be right back.”
    She went to the end of the counter by the cash register and took the phone from Tamara, who lifted her eyebrows significantly and then whispered, “Your uncle Jack. About you-know-who.”
    Heather’s heart bounced up and seemed to lodge in her throat. Her hands felt clammy. Heather dried them on her apron and put the phone to her ear. “Hello, this is Heather.”
    â€œListen, Sunshine,” her uncle Jack said. “I know half of the reporters in town are hanging around there. So pretend to take an order or something, all right?”
    â€œSure.” Heather swallowed and grabbed the take-out pad near her elbow. “Okay. I’m ready. Go ahead.”
    â€œCan you get out of there?”
    â€œFor how long?” She scribbled two hearts with arrows through them onto the pad.
    â€œThis won’t take more than half an hour, tops. Put something in a bag and pretend you’re doing a special take-out order.”
    Heather glanced up. She felt that everyone was watching her, which of course wasn’t really true. She wanted to ask for some specifics—like why he wanted to see her. And what in the world was going on?
    She gulped again. Was it bad news? Or good? Her heart pounded like a bass drum in her chest.
    â€œEr, could you tell me...” The sentence died uncompleted. She couldn’t think how to go on without giving away that the call concerned Mark.
    Uncle Jack took pity on her. “Listen. We’ve found a Swiss army knife. You know, one of those knives with enough attachments to do everything but balance your bank statement for you?”
    â€œYes,” Heather said, though how she got the word out was a mystery to her.
    I take it with me. Wherever