“If you do the interview, everyone in town will be out to catch a glimpse of you. You’ll probably have a parade of well-wishers coming by. They’ll be carrying plates of Christmas cookies, because this is Whiskey Creek and they’re nice folks, but they’ll be interrupting your solitude all the same.” And if she didn’t want that, he’d rather not subject her to it.
“He could write that I’m here whether I give him permission or not, Kyle. He could even put in a snippet about me renting your farmhouse, and then everyone in town will know where to find me.”
“Good thing you’ll be here with me instead of at the farmhouse,” he said. “I’ll turn them away at the door.”
“You’ll be at work most of the time. Besides, I can’t continue to stay with you now that word’s getting out. What do you think the tabloids will make of it? I’ve had a steady and very public boyfriend for years. They’ll describe us—you and me—as lovers, because that’s the most salacious slant they can take, which will mean I’ll bear the blame for the breakup with Derrick. And you’ll be scrutinized along with me.”
“I can’t believe she went after you. What’s her problem?” he muttered, talking about Noelle.
“She’s out to punish you for rejecting her. Maybe she’s seriously dangerous.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You don’t think she’d ever show up with a gun and shoot you or...or something.”
“No...”
“I wouldn’t discount the possibility out of hand. Stranger things have happened.”
He had a hard time seeing someone he’d known for so many years as a threat to his life. But there was no question that Noelle could be vengeful and narcissistic in the extreme. “I doubt she’d ever go so far as to bring a weapon here, but that aside, maybe you should move to another town,” he said. “Somewhere like Placerville, where you’d have a shot at maintaining some anonymity.”
“And what guarantee do I have that it won’t happen there, too? That people won’t figure out where I am?”
“Placerville’s not that far away. I could bring you groceries and whatever else you need. You wouldn’t have to leave the house.”
“That would be too much trouble for you.”
“So what do you think you should do? Go home?” He was strangely reluctant to suggest that, but he thought it might be what she’d wind up doing—and maybe it was even best for her.
“I won’t go back where Derrick is. I’m not ready yet.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll do the interview. Suck it up and act as if I don’t mind, as if I’m just here to experience Christmas in Gold Country. The more I act as if I don’t want press, the more of it I’ll get. We need to rethink this, sell it right.”
“And if some of your old friends from Angel’s Camp see the paper and turn up at the door?”
“They won’t know how to find your farmhouse, like folks here do. It’s a bit of a drive, which will deter them, too. So they’ll call, and when they do, I’ll tell them I’m coming to visit after Christmas, once I have my next album done.”
“You’ll put them off.”
“Yes.”
Finally, he sat down. “I’m sorry about this.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
Suddenly determined to overcome whatever Noelle threw his way, he draped a lap blanket over Lourdes’s shoulders and held it together under her chin. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You do the damn interview, and I’ll take care of everything else.”
“How?” she asked, gazing up at him.
“I’ll turn them all away, like I said—make sure no one bothers you.”
“So you think I should still room with you? Despite the furor that might cause in the tabloids when they find out?”
“Let them print whatever they want. Can’t be any worse than having them report the truth about Derrick.”
“True,” she muttered. “It’s hurtful and embarrassing enough that he’d cheat—but with my biggest competitor? That’ll ensure it’s gossiped about much longer than it would’ve been otherwise.”