“What’s this?” Dangling from her finger by its elastic band was a pair of dark red men’s briefs, Angelo’s underwear that they’d been unable to find as he was leaving. It must have slipped free as she was making the bed before her swim. Thank heavens she’d done at least that much.
She took it quickly, “Nothing.” Though she imagined it felt warm against her palm.
Perrin grinned wickedly even as Jo stuffed it in her robe’s pocket.
“Gee,” she placed a red-painted nail to her lips and turned to Cassidy. “I wonder if a certain Mr. Parrano is walking the streets of Seattle commando this morning.”
Cassidy smiled back at Perrin conspiratorially but winked at Jo, “Oh, I hope so. I really hope so.”
Jo fought the desire to stare down at the rug and hide her face behind a fall of hair. Instead, she faced it head on.
“I am pleased to report to this court of inquiry, that he is indeed walking the streets without underwear.” She clenched her hand on them in her pocket. Nor would he be getting them back anytime soon. Like a scalper’s prize, they were hers now, though she had no idea why she’d want them.
“And is he well sated?” Perrin always wanted details.
“If he isn’t, it’s not for lack of trying.”
She held her pride for a moment longer and then the three of them burst out laughing together.
Then she went into the bathroom to dry her hair before she tried on the dress.
“Oh, Jo.” Cassidy’s sigh said it all.
Perrin looked so pleased when Jo had put on the high-heeled shoes. She fussed with the hem a bit.
“I’ll change it just a little so that you can wear these down the aisle, but dance in low heels.”
“You won’t change a single thing on this dress,” Cassidy brushed Perrin’s hands away. “You don’t mess with perfection. Jo can take dance lessons.”
Jo didn’t know when she’d ever find time for a class, but Cassidy was right. It would be worth learning to dance in these so that she could look this good. She considered the woman in the mirror. This time, rather than the dark of night with closed curtains, the room was flooded with sunlight. The fabric revealed another facet that hadn’t been visible before. Its pale blue material was ever so slightly iridescent as if Jo herself was glowing.
If Angelo could only see her now, he’d maybe keel over dead and need that “weak mind and sound body” phrase for his will.
Had she really just had that thought? Had she really just thought of Angelo while wearing a wedding dress?
Of course she had. They’d just spent a whole night and morning together. And true to his promise, he had thoroughly ravaged her leaving her head spinning and her body buzzing. So, of course she was thinking of him. But that’s all it meant. She was thinking of him. And she was wearing a wedding dress. It didn’t mean the two were related in any way other than a coincidence of timing.
The phone rang. She swished over to the nightstand to pick it up. She’d never swished before in her life.
“Oh. Hi, Angelo.”
She glanced back at Cassidy and Perrin who weren’t even for a moment considering leaving the room. Perrin grabbed Jo’s robe from where it draped on the bed and fished out Angelo’s underwear then began waving them at her.
“I found something you lost.” Oh, no. She hadn’t said that. She really needed to cut her own tongue out. Maybe she’d just kill Perrin as soon as she got off the phone. She turned away to concentrate.
“Oh thanks. I’ll have to get those.”
“Just like that? Just ‘get those’?”
Angelo spluttered for a moment.
“I’m at the restaurant.”
“And…” she teased him, knowing she had him trapped. “That’s no excuse. What is it worth to get them back?”
“Go, Jo!” Perrin was giggling in the background. Jo closed her eyes to block out her friends. This was a very private conversation and they both were having it in public.
“Well,” she could hear dishes clattering over the phone which must be the only reason he hadn’t heard Perrin.
His voice went soft.
“I did have this one idea. If we ever have a day off together. There’s a very private spot atop a mountain on one of the San Juan Islands that a friend showed me.”
“And would this friend have been female?”
“Oh!” She could imagine him flushing red and looking around to try and find a way out of the hole he’d just dug. She let him dangle for several seconds before deciding to rescue him.
“Consider it a date.”
“Really? Uh, really? That’s wonderful.” His voice went smooth for a moment as if someone was passing close by. He dragged out the start of the next sentence until whoever had finally passed out of earshot.
Jo would bet he wasn’t fooling a single person on his staff except himself.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he finally continued. “After all, I like my underwear.”
“I like it better when it’s off you.”
Perrin cheered again and Jo wanted to slap herself.
“Okay. Whew. That took my breath away.”
They appreciated the mutual images of being unclothed together in silence for several moments.
“Was there a reason you called?”
“Oh, yes,” Angelo’s voice shifted from smooth and warm to practically businesslike, as if he were suddenly afraid of her or something.
“My mother wants you to come to dinner on Monday.”
“She what?” Jo’s skin flashed cold.
“She’s a great cook, as you know, and she wants to make a dinner for you. Get to know you and so on.”
Her shock was so deep that all she could mumble was an, “Okay, I guess.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call later with details. Gotta run. Bye.” And he was gone.
Jo set the phone back very slowly and stared out at the view trying to collect her thoughts into some semblance of order.
“So, what’s the date? You said, ‘Consider it a date.’ We heard you. You can’t lie to us.” Perrin came around in front of her still waving Angelo’s underwear. Jo took them, but having no pocket in the dress, simply tossed them back on the bed.
“Oh,” Jo tried again to picture a dinner with Mrs. Parrano and failed. “There’s a mountain in the San Juans. He wants to make love on top of it.”
“Ooo. Starlight. Go at night. There’s nothing like making love by starlight.”
Jo had never done such a thing, though she’d take it under consideration.
She really should stop trying to avoid Perrin’s questions, it never worked anyway.
Cassidy came up beside her and placed a hand around Jo’s waist.
“What is it, Jo? There’s something else.”
Jo could only nod.
Perrin came up on her other side. Jo held onto both of them for support as she stared out the window, unable to see anything.
“He, ah, his mother, Angelo’s mother, ah, Mrs. Parrano.” Jo had turned into a babbling idiot. She clamped her tongue hard enough between her teeth that she thought she could taste enamel.
“She wants to meet me.”
“But that makes no sense,” Perrin protested. “You already know her.”
“She wants to have me over for dinner. Angelo’s mother wants to cook a meal for me.”
“Yes!” Perrin pumped a fist in the air. “The power of the dress! Yes!” She began dancing about the room, the skirt of her sun dress swirling and bouncing.
“Oh, Cassidy,” Jo said quietly. It came out frightfully close to a moan.
“It’ll be okay,” Cassidy tightened her arm around Jo’s waist as Perrin danced around them in the tiny circles that Jo’s bedroom furniture barely allowed. “It’ll be okay.”
All Jo could think was that he was a chef and hadn’t even known to sugar coat it.
The phone rang again. She almost didn’t answer, but Cassidy nudged her.
“Yes, Angelo? W
hat now?”
Chapter 25
Jo kept her hands clenched on the wheel of her rental car. If she squeezed it any tighter, the wheel might snap. She already didn’t have any blood in her fingers. Ordering her fingers to relax their death grip didn’t ease them in the slightest. They weren’t stupid, they knew they were holding on for dear life.
The car rocked lightly as the ferry from the Ketchikan Airport lurched through a wave. Ketchikan Airport hadn’t fit on the same shore as the small fishing town backed by steep hills that had called gold-rushers to their doom or fortune. So, they’d built the airport on the island on the other side of Tongass Narrows. The airport ferry only took a few minutes. Would these few minutes be enough to bribe the ferry captain to turn left and just see how far they could get? Anchorage? Dutch Harbor? Russia?
The phone call had been just before lunch on Saturday and now Jo was going to be having dinner in Ketchikan, Alaska. Assuming she could keep anything down. Her single least favorite place on the planet. She didn’t hold it against the state, the town, or the people in it. Well, not as much as she held it against one person in particular.
But he was no longer in it and that was the problem.
Earnest Jack Thompson was dead. And it was now up to his only child to deal with whatever mess he’d left behind.
Muriel had a reservation waiting for her by the time Jo landed and called to check in. Jo couldn’t remember what Muriel had said about it, so she would just head for her usual retreat up on the hill at the edge of town and hope for the best. She hated to impose on Muriel on a Saturday morning, as they were supposed to be working that afternoon and Sunday. But when she’d received the phone call, her brain had muddled and she’d become wholly incompetent. Any court in the land would have declared her so, including a jury of her friends.
Perrin and Cassidy had removed the wedding dress while she’d stood like a lifeless mannequin. They’d given her clothes and she’d put them on. Now, looking down as she waited for the ferry to carry her across the Tongass Narrows, Jo saw that she wore hiking boots, her Calvin jeans, and an REI rain jacket. Under that, her blue blouse and a dark gray flannel shirt. She didn’t even know she still owned a flannel shirt. Well, her friends had dressed her appropriately for this adventure.
Her friends. They’d taken care of her. Packed for her. Muriel had found the flight and Cassidy had delivered Jo’s mortal remains to the airport. She’d wrap that support around her and be strong.
Deep breath.
Another.
It was jolted from her by the ferry jarring hard against the dock pilings. The dock pilings in Ketchikan, Alaska.
She was so in for it.
She kicked on the windshield wiper to clear the heavy mist and ducked her head down.
She didn’t wave at the deckhand, doing her best not to look at Dave Garvey as she rolled by inches away from his toes. The years had been hard on the former star wide receiver and king of auto shop class. Jo shouldn’t be so mean about him, he’d always been decent to her—by never noticing she existed.
This was going to kill her. She was turning back into her fifteen-year old worst self. She was a lawyer of national and soon to be international repute, for heaven’s sake.
She sat up straighter and eased her grip on the wheel. Just in time to come face-to-face with the ferry’s Captain, Steven Lancaster. He hadn’t added the thirty-pound beer gut which now weighed down Dave. He looked great.
“Hey, Jo!” He shouted it loud enough to be heard through the tightly closed windows. Loud enough to be heard throughout the town. Well, it would be out soon enough anyway. The locals weren’t that big a community. Her graduating class had been a hundred-and-forty-six strong, and in all likelihood about a hundred-and-forty-five of them still lived in town. Ketchikan was the sort of town that everyone talked about leaving, but no one actually did.
She’d run into this the few times in the past when she’d been forced to fly in here for meetings. She actually scheduled dinners with her father when she was in town only partly as a reason to see him. Mostly it had been to avoid her former schoolmates as much as possible. Her meetings here were typically all-day ones and much livelier after all the fishermen in the crowd had their three-beer lunches. Afterwards, anyone attending who she’d known from her youth, tried to get her to “Go out on the town” with them. That meant a total dive like the Crab Hole or some other hideous bar.
Steve showed no sign of letting her just roll on by, so Jo lowered the window. The air was cool on her face. It smelled of ocean, deep forest, and thirteen feet of rain every year.
“Hi, Steve! How are you doing?” That sounded normal, didn’t it?
“Great! Heard about your dad. Sorry.” He didn’t look too contrite, but then he knew what her home life had been like. “Any chance of seeing you while you’re in town? Marta and I eat at the Crab a couple times a week.”
“Marta? Marta Benkowitz?”
“Marta Lancaster.” He corrected her but his grin of pride showed she’d gotten it right. Steven and Marta? Sure, why not? Steve had always been an easy-going, cheerful guy that everyone liked. Even if he wasn’t the smartest guy around, he was one of the nicest. Marta was shy, dark, and pretty enough. She was also one of the few that gave Jo a run for her money on test scores. As close to a friend as Jo ever had in Ketchikan, which wasn’t saying much. An odd couple, but Steve’s smile showed that it was clearly working for them.
“The Crab? Ah, sure.” She was going to have to shoot herself. She’d just agreed to go back to the Crab Hole. Of course, that had been her dad’s favorite bar, his second home. She’d have to go there anyway to make sure his bar tab was settled.
A horn blared behind her making Steve look back at the remaining ferry load.
“Mainlander,” he scoffed then returned his attention to her. “Just let Gerta know when you’re in and we’ll come down and join you.”
“Gerta.”
“Yeah. Ukrainian lady. Barely speaks English. But she showed up one day looking for work and old Fred hired her. Rumor is they’re an item but it’s hard to tell because Fred never talked all that much anyway and no one can understand her when she does. But the food’s almost edible now which is a nice change.”
“Okay. Good to see you doing so well.” Then she waved and drove off the ferry and into hell on earth.
Chapter 26
Unable to eat, Jo had merely curled up in her room at the Cape Fox Lodge, hidden under the covers, and prayed for sleep. Somewhere during the third movie of an Adam Sandler marathon, she hated Adam Sandler, slapstick humor, and the world in general, she’d finally fallen asleep for a few fitful hours.
Sunday morning she tried the house, but, though the black and gold letters spelling out “Thompson” still clung tenuously to the mailbox as they always had and the same old fishing gear littered the porch, she couldn’t get in. The door was locked, which was unusual. They hadn’t been well enough off to have anything worth stealing, so why bother. The obvious spare key under the mat was gone, too. It had probably been used to lock the door.
Jo then went down to find his fishing boat, but didn’t remember what slip it was in. Well, she thought she did, but the Eloise wasn’t there. Maybe she’d finally sunk, though the dark waters alongside the finger pier hid any evidence if it had sunk at dock. The marina was empty of people, surprising even for a Sunday morning, so she couldn’t find anyone to ask. Right. It was June in the salmon fishing capital of the world. The run was on and every fisherman who could crawl onto a trawler, or snag a tourist, would be out on the sea or up in the fjords making a living.
Well, the hook had been baited and it had dragged her back to Alaska. Now it was time to see just how fast she could get unhooked. Since not even the Crab Hole was open at this early hour, she went for a drive through the town, a major mistake.
Two cruise ships had arrived in the night and she could see a third pulling into the Tongass Narrows even now. The population of the town had just doub
led for the day. The historic waterfront was already clogged past reason, the few cars stupid enough to brave the lower streets of the town crept their way between pedestrians, even at seven in the morning. By mid-morning the lower streets would be wholly impassable except on foot, and barely then. It took her forever to escape the congestion.
As a result, rather than cruising by some pretty little shops, she was up driving through the back roads. The middle school and high school looked exactly the same, except for another decade of age and moss on the roof. They were okay, her only refuge other than the library. She didn’t go there just in case Mrs. Freson was still head librarian. The woman had given her a vision of the outer world. She’d grown up in Seattle, gone to Vassar, and for reasons beyond Jo’s imagining, ended up in Ketchikan with four kids in the four grades ahead of Jo.
Mrs. Freson had fed Jo’s need to know, her need to escape. Having four kids ahead of Jo, she knew which courses Jo would be taking and what books, both fiction and non, would enhance the relatively mundane teachings aimed at fisherman’s and shop owner’s kids. They were mostly headed to work at the fish plant or servicing the cruise ships hitting Water Street like gunshot, leaving a wide damage path and never quite enough money in their wakes.
It might be nice to see her. Sit down and visit about how Vassar had changed, about how she was doing in Seattle. Somehow it was too sensible, too rational, too normal.
The last thing Jo wanted was for anything in Ketchikan to start feeling normal.
The second to last thing Jo wanted to do was see Mrs. Freson and burst into wracking sobs that Jo suspected were lurking just below the calm outer surface she was struggling to present. She continued past the library without stopping.
At the far end of town, the fish packing plant where she’d worked part time in the gift shop during the summers was at full roar. She definitely didn’t stop there, way too many former classmates and coworkers. Though she couldn’t resist slowing down to see if it looked even a little different. “Severely weathered” was the standard paint job of Ketchikan, Alaska, and the packing plant was no different. Some of the cars were newer models, but not enough for it to really look different.
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