“As if you don’t know.”
Ellen ignored the jump in her heartbeat. Leave it to Maggie to guess there was a secondary motive to her presence. Her talk at Skidmore was enough to get Ellen to want to fly north. But it just so happened the long-planned talk allowed her to seize the moment to create some space between her and an overheating attraction to an impossible man.
“You swore you’d never get involved with a Texas Ranger, Ellen. How did you put it? Dad and Uncle Sam are both Rangers, and you don’t need that kind of—what was it?”
“Scrutiny. Drama. Whatever. At best, it would be awkward.”
“By would be you mean is. Ellen, you can’t run from your feelings.”
Ellen grinned, her cue to her sister that she wasn’t talking about Luke Jackson. “I never run.”
Maggie walked a few paces, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead. “Sometimes running is the smart option,” she said finally, half to herself. “Sometimes it’s the only option.”
Ellen gasped, alarmed at Maggie’s tone as well as her words. “Maggie, what is going on? Tell me, please.”
“Nothing. I was speaking hypothetically.” She pointed at a restaurant they were approaching, one of many on Broadway. “Let’s have coffee, maybe a small bite to eat. I can’t manage a big meal before a major presentation.”
Ellen knew from long experience with her sister that badgering her wouldn’t produce anything but frustration for both of them. They entered the bustling restaurant and sat at a high table under photographs of Victorian Saratoga with its therapeutic mineral springs, grand hotels, casinos and thoroughbred horse races. Maggie seemed to fix on a photograph of a woman in Victorian dress, parasol in hand, but Ellen knew better. Focusing on something else was a way for Maggie to center herself and push away intrusive thoughts.
Finally she turned to Ellen. “Tell me about your Texas Ranger.”
“My Texas Ranger?”
“Studly Luke Jackson in his white cowboy hat and butt-kicking leather boots.”
“Luke is in Austin working a case, I imagine.” Ellen kept her voice neutral, without any of the emotion churning inside her. “I don’t have much to do with him.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Professionally or personally?”
“Both.”
“His choice or yours?”
“Again, both, and why are we talking about me?”
“Because it’s easier than talking about me right before I give my talk,” Maggie said.
“Will you know anyone there?” Ellen asked.
Maggie looked at the handwritten menu. “A few people.”
“Academics, students, former students—”
“All of the above. I’d rather not think about it right now. It gives me the jitters.”
Ellen wanted to accept Maggie’s reluctance to talk as normal pre-talk nerves, but her doubts about her sister’s state of mind persisted.
“I’m not having alcohol,” Maggie said. “But you can feel free.”
“It’s still early. We can save the alcohol for after your presentation. We can celebrate. I’ll treat you to champagne tonight.”
“I’d like that.” Maggie’s dark eyes seemed to mist as she looked across the table at her sister. “Thank you, Ellen. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Ellen said.
They ordered the soup-of-the-day—spring vegetable—with house-made whole-grain rolls, but Ellen could tell Maggie’s mind wasn’t on lunch or their surroundings. Ellen again resisted the urge to press her sister for an explanation of what was bothering her. It would have to wait. Once Maggie’s talk was behind her and the champagne was flowing, Ellen would put on her prosecutor’s hat and get her sister to spill what was going on with her.
Over delicious soup and rolls, they chatted about what sights they wanted to see during their short visit. Maggie relaxed visibly, and Ellen had to admit she, too, was relieved that they were staying away from any mention of their work lives and personal problems. Maggie’s personal life was on hold at the moment, by her own description, as she dived into her dissertation. Ellen’s personal life was on overdrive. Her whirlwind trip north was a self-imposed cooling-off period. A fling with a Texas Ranger was one thing. Falling in love with one? With Luke? Impossible.