Chapter Ten
Susan stacked the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, trying not to let resentment dampen her mood.
Jasmine and Lucy sat at the table with Nolan and the cameraman, enjoying a second cup of coffee and discussing the upcoming day. A persistent drizzle clattered against the iron roof, the gray sky and dull landscape paralleling her worsening disposition. If this rain continued, there was no way she’d manage a clandestine meeting with Tyler.
A black truck rolled to a stop outside the kitchen door, its mud-splattered appearance typical of the farm vehicles she’d seen since her arrival in Clare. A man climbed out of the driver’s side and walked around to open the passenger door.
“You have visitors,” Susan said and reached for the empty coffee carafe to put on another pot.
The kitchen door burst open and Nolan’s mother stalked inside, a newspaper clutched in her right hand. She scanned the kitchen until her gaze settled on Susan.
“You! How could you betray Nolan in such a public manner?”
The coffeepot wavered in Susan’s hand. She turned away and poured cold water into the coffeemaker.
“Don’t turn your back on me! I want you to pack your bags and leave.”
Susan glared at the cameraman. “Turn that thing off.”
“Nope.” His smug smile showed beneath the camera. “You signed away your rights and gave me permission to film anything.”
“Nothing to stop me leaving.” Susan turned to escape the nasty gleam in Mrs. Penrith’s eyes.
“Not so fast.” Mrs. Penrith caught Susan’s arm and tugged her to an abrupt halt. The woman was stronger than she looked, her fingers digging into Susan’s biceps.
“Let me go,” Susan demanded.
“Mum, what are you doing? Let her go.”
“I knew someone with her morals—a stripper—would tow bad gossip to our family. This town. She’s tarnished our good name with her presence, and now she’s sleeping with Tyler.”
“What are you talking about?” Susan demanded.
At the table, Jasmine and Lucy started whispering to each other.
“Mum,” Nolan said. “Susan doesn’t know Tyler.”
“According to this paper, she does.” Satisfaction oozed from Mrs. Penrith’s voice. “She spent the weekend with him up in Auckland. Look, it gives all the details here in this article and they say the internet is buzzing with the news this morning.”
Someone spilled the beans. It wouldn’t be one of her friends—they’d never do that. She rifled through memory files, frantically wondering what to do or say, how to react.
Deny.
Yes. Deny, deny,deny.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Susan rubbed her arm and did her best woman-done-wrong expression.
“Read the newspaper and judge for yourself,” Mrs. Penrith snapped, almost flinging the paper at her son.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Nolan stood. “Dad, did you want to help me check the sheep?”
“Yes, son.”
Nolan’s father stood inside the door like a timid mouse. Susan hadn’t noticed him in all the drama. He turned and left as quietly as he’d entered.
“You tell my son the truth.” Mrs. Penrith approached, her gaze stabbing into Susan like pointy daggers.
Time for a strategic retreat. “I’m going for a walk,” Susan said.
