by J. S. Marlo
“Fifty percent is…” She paused and appeared to calculate the price in her mind. “One hundred ninety-five dollars?”
“Yes, ma’am, but if I ring the purchase as a final sale, I can knock another ten percent from the original price.” The boy pulled a small calculator from his pocket and tapped in the numbers. “How does one hundred fifty-six dollars plus tax sound?”
“It sounds perfect.”
Impressed by the boy’s performance, Blythe slipped him an extra twenty bucks while Riley changed back into her slacks and blouse.
***
Blythe didn’t intend to stop by his sister’s house on his way to the hospital, but when he saw her sitting on the porch steps, alone, he pulled into her empty driveway and exited his car.
“Hello, Beth.” Eleven-thirty was past her bedtime. “Did you lock yourself out?”
“I wish.”
The porch light over her head showed the worries etched on her face. He joined her on the concrete steps, and as he sat next to her, he slipped an arm behind her back. “Isn’t it a bit late for stargazing in your pajamas, little sister?”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Noah fell from his bunk bed. Todd took him to the hospital. I’m waiting for them.”
“Is he all right?” Noah slept on the top bunk, and there was a railing to protect him, but if he fell and landed on his head—Blythe pushed the worse scenario out of his mind. “How did it happen?”
“The boys were wrestling in Noah’s bed.” As her head shook, it ruffled his shirt. “He screamed so hard I thought someone died. Thank goodness he didn’t hit his head, but his ankle is the size of a football.”
The account of the incident somewhat reassured Blythe. A foot was easier to fix than a head. He retrieved his hand from her back, reached inside his pocket for his car key, and dangled it in front of her eyes. “Get dressed, borrow my car, and go meet them at the hospital. I’ll watch Adam.”
“Thanks, but no. One parent waiting in a room full of germs is more than sufficient.” She slid to the opposite end of the step, and with her back against the railing, she faced him. “They should be back soon. What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“No.” Bedtime was when he missed Claire the most, and it’d become his least favorite time of the day. “I met with my in-laws after I had dinner with Riley, but I haven’t visited Claire yet. I won’t see my bed for a few more hours.”
“Why the meeting? What did they do this time?”
Beth told him once that his in-laws were causing him more grief than Claire’s condition. At the time, it’d sounded harsh, and he hated to admit she might have been right.
“They hired a lawyer and sought an injunction to stop me from disconnecting Claire’s life-support. It took me a few hours, but I convinced them to drop the lawyer.”
“The agony of despair.” The heavy sigh whooshing through his sister’s teeth mirrored his feelings. “Did they come to their senses on their own, or did you compromise?”
“They want the opinion of a different specialist regarding Claire’s prognosis.” Seeking a second medical opinion was a waste of time, but to appease his in-laws, he’d agreed.
“I see.” She hugged her knees and rested her chin on her forearm. “And when will that doctor give his verdict?”
That new doctor needed to examine Claire, review her file, look at the tests, and… “I have no idea.”
Chapter Fifteen
When she jogged in the park on Tuesday, Riley chose a different path through the wooded area and ended along a narrow cobblestone alley where cozy little boutiques mixed with specialty cafés and outdoor terraces.
A shoe store, nestled between a coffee shop and a used bookstore, caught her attention. Displayed in the window was a pair of black sandals, exactly what she’d hoped to wear with her new dress.
In spite of her disheveled appearance, she entered the shoe store, but not before she turned her iPod off and removed the ear buds from her ears. The only saleslady in sight rang up a purchase for a leggy blonde facing away from Riley. “Ma’am? I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Not in a hurry, Riley gave the black sandals a closer look. Leather straps, low heels, and a sale price she could afford. If the store carried her size in stock, she’d ask the saleslady to set a pair aside for her.
“Are sweaty tops and shorts your idea of fashion?”
If not for the female voice, Riley would have sworn she’d bumped into Paul. She chided herself for not recognizing Isabella at the cash register. “The concept may escape you, Isabella, but I run every day at lunchtime. It keeps me in shape. You should try it sometime.”
“Me?” The actress’s melodious laughter was modulated to entice an audience. “I don’t need exercise to keep my figure, honey.” She puffed out her chest, emphasizing her feminine assets. “It’s a gift from heaven.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” Isabella’s ego was more inflated than her implants, but Riley doubted she’d caught the sarcasm of her remark.
“I heard you’re attending the gala. That riled Paul.”
“Really?” Like she hadn’t noticed.
“He thinks you’re after his job. If I were you I’d be wary of him.”
***
Tuesday was Sam’s favorite day of the week. Pixie had ventured into the backyard on a Tuesday to give birth to a litter under the deck. The babies were long gone, given away, but Pixie had stayed.
I love Tuesdays. And this Tuesday would be remembered as another perfect night for a fire.
Finding a worthy target that began with gold had taken two weeks. At first, Sam had picked Gold to Bronze, a trophy shop, which would have been followed by Bronze Skin, a tanning studio, but increased police activity around the trophy shop had forced Sam to switch to a different pattern.
The sun had set an hour ago. Strolling down Main Street, Sam passed in front of the rubbles of Weight in Gold Pawnshop. Good riddance. There were only overpriced pieces of junk in there anyway.
On the next block, music and loud noise, originating from inside Golden Tap Tavern, washed onto the sidewalk. Striking twice on the same street was brilliant. No one would expect that. And then, in a week or two, Tap Your Feet, the awful dance studio that everyone had forgotten, would be next.
Sam stopped near the entrance of the tavern. A plasticized menu was affixed to the frame of the door, along with the opening hours. Golden Tap didn’t close until two in the morning.
I’ve ample time to catch a movie.
Chapter Sixteen
Relaxed and invigorated after another long run, Riley entered her office. That new path through the woods and down the cobblestone alley that she’d discovered yesterday was fast becoming her favorite. It offered more shade, was less crowded than the other paths in the park, and it passed an old-fashioned water pump.
“Don’t you carry your cell phone when you go running?”
She didn’t let Paul’s rude welcome ruin the therapeutic effects of her daily exercise. “No, why? Did it ring?”
“At every call, it danced on your desk. It drove me nuts.”
Few people possessed her cell number, and none of those people had any reason to call her on a Wednesday afternoon, unless something had happened to one of the kids. “You didn’t answer, did you?”
“Do I look like your private secretary?”
No, but he looked angry enough to mount a vicious attack on her cell phone. She sat at her desk to check her phone. Five missed calls flashed on her screen. All from Ollie’s work number. Before her mind invoked any awful scenarios, she dialed the fire station.
She could have stepped inside the Archives room or into the hallway to make the call, but it wouldn’t have prevented Paul from eavesdropping. Privacy wasn’t an option.
“Oliver Durham speaking.”
“Ollie?” Her husband should be at the airport, not at work. “Did you miss your plane?”
“I’m sorry, Ken, but I had to cancel my flight.”
Her hopes of spending a magical evening with her husband plummeted into her empty stomach. “What happened?”
“Thinner struck again last night. Golden Tap Tavern. The bartender is in intensive care with third degree burns. Prognosis is not good.”
“Oh, no.”
A strange sound, halfway between a snarl and a sigh, reached her ear. “The pattern is sound, Ken, but we missed the tavern, and a man is fighting for his life because of it.”
She wished she could alleviate Ollie’s guilt. “You’ll get him on his next attempt.”
“I don’t know. Nothing in the entire county starts with tap.”
Tap? The name sounded familiar, and it stirred a fleeting image in her mind, but she couldn’t capture it. “What about tavern?”
“I’m thinking tavern is too generic.” Ollie’s gut feelings rarely steered him wrong when it came to arsonists, so she listened to his words closely. “But if that’s the case, do you know how many taverns there are around here?”
One on every corner street. “Too many?”
“That sums it up. There’s a meeting with the police this afternoon to review all the cases, and I have to attend.”
“Any chance you could catch a later flight?” Out the corner of her eye, she caught Paul smirking.
“I checked, but I wouldn’t land until eleven-thirty. By the time I arrive at the studio, the gala will be over.”
“You’re right.” There was no point for him to show up at the end of the evening, but agreeing with him didn’t remove the brick in the pit of her stomach.
“You enjoy your big evening, Ken. I love you, and I’ll be thinking about you.”
“Love you too.” Disheartened, she hung up and sank in her chair.
“Husband canceled on you? How unfortunate, but it’s not too late to call an escort service.”
The heartless, hypocritical skunk looked anything but contrite.
“Shove it, Paul.” She’d been looking forward to this evening, but now it’d turned into a nightmare.
“Poor little Ryle. You’ll be the only one without a date tonight.”
The two yellow tickets pinned to her lamp mocked her. She snatched them, ripped them in half, and tossed the pieces at Paul.
Damn the gala and Martin’s odd number.
***
Why does Beth want to know if Riley will carry a purse tonight?
The message his sister left on his phone while Blythe shot his last scene of the day made no sense. He dialed her number and got the busy signal. “Great.”
On the outside chance Riley might still be at the studio, he made a detour by the Pencil Wing.
The door to her office was open. He stepped inside and looked around. Between Riley’s and Paul’s desks, a yellow stub lay on the floor. Struck by the resemblance between the discarded stub and the gala tickets in his pocket, he picked it up. It was a ticket—part of a ticket—with part of a name.
–ndrick.
“Hux?” Andy walked to his desk. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for Riley.” The stub in his hand troubled him. “Do you know if she’s coming tonight?”
“Of course she is.” Without looking at him, Andy rummaged through his cluttered desktop. “Why?”
“It’s my sister. She wants to know if Riley is bringing a purse, though I’m not sure why she wants to know this.”
“A purse?” A smile curled Andy’s mouth. “Riley left twenty minutes ago. I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
***
Riley wiped her eyes for the hundredth time, but tears kept coming. Tears of frustration, anger, disappointment…and regret.
Not attending the gala was a mistake, but she couldn’t bring herself to go alone. Maybe she didn’t belong at the studio after all, and her dream was destined to remain only a dream.
Throughout their marriage, Ollie had always supported her endeavors, and she didn’t look forward to telling him why she came home tonight and missed the gala. He’d feel guilty even though he wasn’t to blame. If only there was a way she could spare his feelings.
Cursing Paul’s taunts and her impulsive decision to tear up the tickets, she stuffed her toiletry bag into her suitcase. Her plane didn’t leave for another three hours, but she wanted to get to the airport early and drown her misery in the anonymity of a crowded boarding gate.
Someone knocked on the door.
Her hope surged, only to crash an instant later. It couldn’t be Ollie, not when he’d missed the only plane that could bring him here on time.
“Coming,” she yelled.
She exited the bedroom then crossed the living room section of the suite. Right about now, she could use a kiss from Ollie or the kids, a hug from just about anyone, or a piece of chocolate cake. If it was room service knocking on the wrong door, and she smelled chocolate from the tray, she might just keep it and eat it.
From behind the door, she looked through the peephole and gasped in surprise. Blythe had never come up to her suite—until tonight.
He knocked again. “Riley? Open, please.”
Before he attracted attention in the hallway, she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t you be at the airport?” Not only did he deflect her question with one of his own, but also took his time looking her up and down before meeting her gaze. “Is everything all right?”
Fairly certain that the tears still burning her eyes had provided him with an instant answer, she didn’t bother uttering one aloud. “Why are you here, Blythe?”
Rocking on his heels, he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I saw a ticket stub on the floor of your office. I was worried something happened.” His voice was low and husky, as if he was afraid to wake up her sorrow. “Checking on you sounded like a good idea at the time. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t.” That he cared warmed her heart. “I’m flying home in a few hours.”
His brows shot up, and he stilled. “You’re what? Why?”
“It’s—” An elderly couple exited the room across the corridor and glanced their way. “It’s complicated.” And it wasn’t something she wanted to explain in public. “Please, come in.”
She retreated into the living room. Behind her, the door closed with a click. When she reached the window, she turned around.
Blythe had stayed in the entrance, near the closet. “What’s going on?” An invisible veil had descended upon his face, shrouding his expression. “Did Oliver’s plane get delayed?”
“He’s not coming.” Her back to the glass, she hugged her chest. “There’s an arsonist back home, and he struck again last night. It’s his eighth fire, except this time, a man is fighting for his life in the burn unit. Ollie is on the investigation team, and he can’t miss work.” Stopping the firebug took precedence over the gala.
“I understand his situation, but…” He moved into the living room and paused behind a couch where he rested his forearms on the backrest. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but I’m puzzled over why you won’t attend the gala. Did Oliver ask you to fly home?”
“No.” She hadn’t meant to give Blythe the wrong impression about her husband. “He thinks I’m going to the gala, but—but I don’t feel like going alone.”
“I see.” Slight nods of his head were his only physical reaction to her admission. “You do know Paul sees you as a threat. By not coming, you’re playing right into his hand. He’ll argue you lack team spirit.”
“I can’t say I really care at the moment.” Not when Paul played a role in her hasty decision. “Besides, my tickets are gone. It’s too late.”
“Tickets can be replaced. Would Oliver be offended if another man escorted you to the gala?”
Another man? And where would I find another man? In the hotel gift shop? “No, he wouldn’t. Why? You know a nice guy who wants to spend a boring evening with me?”
“Evenings with you are anything but boring, Shamroc
k.” As he straightened up, a smile enlivened his face. “I’ll be back in two hours to pick you up.”
He headed for the door, but she caught up with him in the entrance before he exited the room. “Hold on. What do you mean you’ll be back in two hours?”
Hand on the doorknob, he held her gaze. His eyes shined a darker shade of blue. “You need more time?”
“Yes, no…” Bamboozled over his intentions, she stamped her foot and growled. “This isn’t a game, Blythe. I’m not going to the gala with some stranger I’ve never met.”
“Not a stranger, Shamrock.” His voice mellowed. “Me.”
“But…” He was a wonderful friend, and she enjoyed spending time with him, but to allow him to change his plans for the evening was unfair to him. “You can’t dump your date for me. She’ll be upset, and she’ll never see you again.”
“Date?” Deep laughter rose from his belly. “Beth is my sister. I’m sure she’ll see me again.”
“Your sister?” No wonder she’d missed the telltale sign of a new romance. He wasn’t dating anyone. “It’s very nice of you, Blythe, but you still can’t cancel at the last minute. Your sister will be too disappointed.”
“Beth was doing me a huge favor. Trust me when I say she’ll be more than happy to stay home with Todd and the boys. So? In the absence of your husband, would you do me the honor of coming with me?”
She couldn’t refuse the offer, not without hurting Ollie’s or Blythe’s feelings. “I’ll be ready in two hours.”
***
Heads turned, and murmurs buzzed through the crowd as Riley entered the reception with her hand tucked into Blythe’s arm.
“Ignore them, Shamrock, and enjoy the evening. They’ll soon turn their attention to the next couple walking in.”