Finding Stefanie by Susan May Warren

him. “Morning.”
    He said nothing as he went over to Haley and pulled her to her feet. “We’re leaving, Mace. Now.”
    Her jaw tightened, but for once she didn’t argue. She stood and grabbed another apple, sticking it in her pocket.
    “Gideon!” Stefanie came barreling into the room.
    He didn’t turn, even with Haley’s hand limp in his. “Thanks for the hospitality,” he said, not nicely.
    “At least eat something.”
    For a second, a crazy impulse inside screamed, Stay! Stay here and see what this woman, this family, has to offer. He looked down at Haley, and her eyes had widened, her face pale.
    Stay . . . so they could call Social Services, maybe even the cops, and have him hauled away, back to prison. Only this time he’d go to adult lockup. He couldn’t deny the fear that snaked through him.
    “C’mon, Haley,” Gideon said, tugging her.
    Idiot. The word pulsed in his mind as he opened the door and walked out into the brisk air. The sky seemed to have collected the smoke from the night before, gunmetal gray in tone. It mirrored the misery that Macey and Haley wore on their faces. The wind swirled up dirt, spit it at him as he walked past the corral of horses, the pickups in the yard, down the drive. Off in the distance, he could hear cows mooing.
    “Gideon!”
    He didn’t turn at the voice, refusing to even let it slow his step.
    “Where are we going, Gideon?” Macey said morosely.
    He didn’t answer.

    Smoke rose like fingers toward the heavens, some embers still glowing from under charred beams. Lincoln stood in the yard of his new ranch in quiet disbelief.
    Last night, staring at the antler chandelier in the bedroom of the Buffalo B and B, acceptance had come easier, what with Mrs. Charles leaving out a piece of blueberry pie and milk and fixing him up in the best room—the one with the attached bathroom. The other bathrooms in the B and B were shared among all the other guests. Lincoln had needed all the privacy he could get trying to wrestle his body out of bed this morning. Thankfully, the Novantrone treatments he took might be starting to work; this morning one leg hadn’t felt two feet longer than the other, and even his hand felt more alive, and the trembling seemed to have stopped.
    He just might pull off keeping his condition a secret.
    Now, how might he go about building a film dynasty? Especially with a group of teenage vandals running around, burning houses to the ground? That might be something he should leave out of his travel brochure.
    He’d certainly made a stellar impression on Stefanie. So much for letting his star status wow her. She’d hardly held herself back from leaping into his arms.
    Okay, that fantasy might have been over the top, but it had been years since he’d had to work up more than a smile to attract a woman’s attention.
    Not that he wanted hers. Maybe he should amend his dreamsof a real relationship with someone who would know him and believe in him despite his dark places. After the bruising Stefanie had done to his ego last night, he’d appreciate a few lies thrown his direction.
    He held his cell phone up. He got one blip on analog. The wind scoured up ashes, flinging them onto the trampled, yellow grass around the house.
    Perfect. Maybe he could start a grass fire, burn the entire county down.
    He stuck his cell back into his pocket.
    He’d spent the morning on the phone, first with his insurance agent, who promised to hurry on the claim but didn’t make any guarantees. Lincoln wasn’t sure the payoff would compensate for the time wasted. Then he’d connected with Delia, his assistant back in LA. Between barking at the movers, who were probably breaking his stuff, and listing his phone messages, she sounded like she hadn’t caught the fact that there’d be nowhere for her to live once she arrived. Good thing the B and B wasn’t full. He’d have to buy out the place for the next three months to house his crew. Or find a hotel in