“Five weeks?” Grady’s tone turned on the verge of disrespectful. “What about my training?”
“We have a ski lodge just outside of town. I’ll allow you to train there. I’m sure the kids up there would love to spend some time with an Olympian.”
“Your Honor, this is a little unorthodox,” Grady said, despite Stuart’s hand that served as a warning on his arm.
“Well, then, I’d say the punishment fits the crime.”
“You don’t understand.” He had to be at that race. He had to win back his spot on the team. If he won, if he was fastest, Coach would have no choice but to take him back—the fans would demand it. It wouldn’t matter that his technique was ugly or his attitude was hard. They’d put up with him—like they always had—because he was the best.
If he didn’t race, how would he prove it? It would just be that much tougher to fix his mistakes.
“I understand plenty. Which is why you should be thankful I’m offering you community service instead of dragging this out for months with a trial that could end up with you in jail.”
Grady lifted his chin as he took the judge’s point.
“Once you’re finished cleaning up the mess you made at Hazel’s, you’ll move on to other projects here in town. You’ll start with the restaurant, help with our upcoming Winter Carnival, and do whatever else we come up with for you to do. Total number of hours of community service, one hundred and fifty to be completed six hours a day for five days for five weeks. Should put you back on the racing circuit by—” he glanced down at what Grady could only assume was a calendar—“mid-January. I assume there will still be a race or two left.”
One. There would be exactly one race weekend left. He’d practically have to win it to get the points. No room for error. “Your Honor, that won’t leave me any time to train,” Grady blurted.
The judge’s eyes darted to Grady, who snapped his jaw shut.
“You’ll be released on bond, but if you leave the city limits for any reason other than training at Avalanche Mountain, you will be apprehended and the offer of community service will be off the table.” The judge eyed Grady. “So what will it be, Mr. Benson? A long trial that will end in jail time, given all the video proof against you, or community service right here in Harbor Pointe?”
Grady clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm.
“We’ll take community service, Your Honor,” Stuart said.
“Good,” Judge Harrison said. “I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve done in a long, long time.” He pounded his gavel, stood, and disappeared through the door where he’d entered.
Stuart turned to Grady. “I’d say that’s a win.”
If he wasn’t already in so much trouble, Grady might’ve throttled him. “A win? Are you serious?”
“You’re staying out of jail. That’s a win in my book.”
Grady raked a hand through his dark hair, hitting a bruise he’d undoubtedly sustained in his fight the night before.
The sheriff—Gus—strolled over as the reporters clamored toward the front of the room. “Best get you out of here,” he said.
Grady stood and followed him out the back door and into the hallway, where he stopped and let out a frustrated stream of hot air. “This is a mess.”
Gus turned. “Could be worse.”
“I know. I heard.” But could it? He might as well be in jail if he couldn’t fight for his spot on the team. “There’s just no way any of you could understand.”
“You’re right. We’re simple folks. But we do know how to behave in public.” Gus turned and flicked his wrist forward, as if to suggest Grady should follow.
Minutes later they were back in the police station. “You look like you could use a hot shower and a good meal,” Gus said as he closed the door behind them.
“I’m fine.”
Gus’s nod was slow and steady as his eyes studied Grady. “Uh-huh.”
Grady looked away.
“My daughter Quinn—I think you saw her earlier—she used to hate taking baths at night. It was like torture or something. You know what I always told her?”
Grady responded with a quick, annoyed shake of his head.
“You gotta do it every single day, and complaining about it only makes that part of your day harder.”
Grady resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t need the old man’s little nuggets of wisdom. He needed a fresh change of clothes and a way out of this dump.
“Well, you get the point. The judge made his ruling, so that’s that. No sense complaining about it—you just have to move on. We do have a nice little ski resort, and I’m betting they’d let you train for free.”
“Gee, that sounds great.” A ski resort in southern Michigan would do him no good. Did anybody here know what kind of skier he was?
Gus smiled and his eyes creased into thin lines. “Well, you don’t know anyone, so I’ll get you settled in at one of the cottages here in town. You can shower and change and then report to Hazel’s for cleanup duty.”
“Great.”
Gus turned to the plump secretary with short hair and glasses, who now sat behind the desk where Quinn had set the vase of daisies. “Arlene, do you have Mr. Benson’s paperwork?”
The woman spun around in her chair, grabbed a manila folder, and slid it across the desk. “Sure do, boss.” She looked up at Grady. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Benson.”
Grady nodded. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
“Just have a few things for you to sign. Then you can be on your way.”
“Shouldn’t my lawyer be here with me?” Grady asked as Gus spread three sheets of paper out across the desk.
“Probably, but then Stuart Landen has never been the brightest bulb in the bunch. He’s probably stuck in the hallway trying to figure out where you ran off to.” Gus laughed at his own joke, which Grady did not find amusing.
He huffed, picked up the pen, and signed his name three times. Before he could set the pen down, Arlene stuck a notebook on the desk in front of him. “Can I get an autograph for my daughter? Her name is Madison.”
He scribbled, For Madison. Aim high. Grady Benson on the paper and threw the pen down.
Arlene picked up the notebook and grinned. “She’s going to be so excited. Can we take a quick selfie?”
“Arlene.” Gus’s tone warned.
“Sorry, boss. Maybe another day. Heard you’re going to be in town for a few weeks.”
Inside, Grady groaned. Outside, he forced a smile, which he knew looked completely fake, and took a step back.
Gus handed him a plastic bag with his wallet, phone, and keys in it. “Your stuff.”
“Thanks.” They walked toward the front door.
“And you can follow me out to Cedar Grove,” Gus said, peeking out the window. “On second thought, maybe I should drive you. Wouldn’t want these vultures finding out where you’re staying.”
“Isn’t that inevitable?”
Gus shrugged. “We can keep them off your scent as long as possible.”
Was the man actually trying to help him?
“I’m parked out back. I’ll have one of my deputies drive your car.” He held out his hand, and Grady put the keys in it. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Someone had to be able to get him out of this.
But as he stepped into the squad car—this time in the front seat—and another call to Pete went to voice mail, he wasn’t so sure he even had anyone left interested in helping him at all.
CHAPTER
4
QUINN WALKED UP THE SIDEWALK toward the small white cottage where she’d grown up. Nondescript except for the turquoise mailbox she’d insisted on several years ago.
“It gives the house character,” Quinn had told her father, who would’ve much preferred boring old black and not a single pot of flowers on the porch.
“The house has enough character on the inside,” he’d said.
At least he had the Christmas
lights on.
After Quinn’s sister, Carly, and her son, Jaden, moved out, it had been just the two of them—Quinn and Gus. Did Daddy ever miss her now that she was living above the flower shop? Did he miss their late-night chats over hand-popped popcorn or their never-ending games of Scrabble—which she always won?
She should spend more time with him. She’d gotten so busy lately, and sometimes absent-daughter guilt niggled at her, though she knew he was far from alone. Even now, through the window, she could see the living room full of people—Judge Walter Harrison, Calvin Doyle, and Beverly Sanders, who she was certain had been angling for her father’s eye since the day her mother packed her suitcase and drove out of town. These four had become inseparable—and they were always quick to include Quinn in their shenanigans.
In so many ways, it was like she’d been raised by all four of them. After all, it was Beverly who had taken her to buy her prom dress and Judge who had helped her buy her first car. Calvin had tutored her through chemistry—and she’d gotten an A! And of course, her father had been there for everything. Even when she was nursing the grief that sometimes crept in unexpectedly. Grief over a person who wasn’t dead but who was gone just the same. Quinn actually found that harder to swallow. At least if her mother had died, she wouldn’t have to wonder what she’d done to drive away the woman she thought was supposed to love her unconditionally.
She didn’t bother knocking. Instead she walked inside, pushing away the chill of December as she closed the door.
“She’s here!” Beverly rushed toward her, pulling her into the living room before Quinn could even take off her coat as Calvin disappeared into the kitchen.
“She’s here?” Her father stepped out of the kitchen wearing two oven mitts and a very frilly apron.
“That’s a great look for you, Dad.”
He waved her off. “No sass tonight, Daughter. This is a celebration.”
She felt her brow furrow. “What are we celebrating? I thought it was just dinner.”
Judge let out a cackle from his spot in the old recliner in the living room—a spot he didn’t appear to have any interest in vacating. “You know us better than that by now, don’t you?”
Calvin appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen. He held a cake covered in flickering candles, highlighted by the backlight of the Christmas tree, which she could only assume Beverly had decorated.
“It’s not my birthday,” Quinn said as Calvin came into the room and set the cake on the coffee table.
“No, it’s your ‘Hey, I bought a business’ day.” Beverly squeezed her arm. “Make a wish.”
“I don’t think it works this way,” Quinn said. She glanced at her father, whose face held the unmistakable look of pride.
“It does tonight,” he said. “Blow ’em out.”
She sat on the couch with her dad and Beverly on either side of her, almost as if they were both her parents, eyes beaming and everything.
“Make it a good one,” Beverly said.
Quinn stared at the tiny flames dotting the white cake with red frosting letters that spelled out Congratulations, Quinn. There were flowers all around the border. “Did you get this at Dandy’s?”
Calvin sat in the small chair across from them. “Where else?”
“Did you talk to Mary-Margaret, Calvin?” Quinn eyed him from where she sat.
The man—one of the shyest she’d ever met—looked away. “She made your cake, yes.”
“And?”
“And didn’t she do a nice job?” Beverly tugged on Quinn’s arm. “The wax is going to start dripping all over the frosting if you don’t hurry up.”
“Okay, okay.” Quinn closed her eyes. Her wish would be the same as it had been since she’d gotten the idea that she could buy the flower shop in the first place. Please let me win Best Design at the Michigan Floral Expo. And please let her be there to see it when I do.
She blew out the candles. She knew it was ridiculous—a childhood fantasy, really—but that wouldn’t stop her from hoping.
“Did you wish for some handsome fellow to come sweep you off your feet?” Beverly practically gushed.
“My daughter?” Gus let out a laugh. “You know that’s the last thing on her mind. Especially now that her dream has come true.”
Quinn sighed. “Well, it hasn’t come true yet, Dad. I’ve still got a ton of work to do before I can reopen the flower shop. You know I love Mimi, but she let everything get so outdated.”
“We’ll help where we can,” Judge said. “And I’m sure we can round up some great volunteers. This town loves to support its local businesses.”
“Hey, maybe you should add helping at Quinn’s shop to that skier’s community service,” Beverly joked.
At least Quinn thought she was joking.
“That’s not a half-bad idea,” Judge said. “Then something good would come out of his little mishap last night.”
“No, thank you,” Quinn said. “That’s about the last thing I need. My plan is to stay as far away from that guy as possible.”
“Can we eat?” Her dad stood, tugging his jeans up as he did. His striped button-down was neatly tucked into his pants, and he wore a pair of loafers Quinn had begged him to get rid of for at least the last five years.
“Yes.” Beverly also stood, then moved across the room. “The table’s already set, so hurry on in. We made spaghetti and meatballs with salad and garlic bread. Hope you’re hungry.”
Judge’s recliner snapped back to an upright position, and he pushed himself out. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Quinn had learned a long time ago that he loved to eat. His wife had died ten years prior, leaving a gaping hole in these kinds of gatherings. Eventually, they all settled into a new pattern, though Quinn knew he still thought about her every single day.
The sadness behind his eyes, even when he smiled, gave him away.
She walked into the dining room, the others following behind. “Why are there six places set?”
As she said it, the doorbell rang. “Who else is coming?”
“Your father’s big heart strikes again.” Beverly glanced at him with those big, round I-love-you eyes. Her father didn’t seem to notice.
Instead he walked out of the dining room toward the front door. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.”
Seconds later, she heard his voice mixing with another male’s. She glared toward the door. “Promise me this isn’t a setup.”
“Oh, nooooo.” Judge shook his head. “I can promise you that is not what this is. This is the opposite of that, Miss Quinn, so get that out of your head right now.”
“Then who is out there?”
“Another one of your father’s charity cases.” Beverly sat down in her usual chair, then motioned for Quinn to do the same.
“Like someone from the halfway house?” Quinn kept her voice low as she followed Beverly’s unspoken instructions.
“Not this time.” Judge took a seat at the end of the table, Calvin at his left, leaving the only open chair at his right, beside Quinn.
Obviously her father had clued everyone in on their mystery guest before she arrived, leaving her hopelessly in the dark.
Gus appeared in the doorway. “Everyone, you remember Grady.” Her father scooted to the side and a much taller, broader, stronger-looking man came into view.
Quinn frowned. The guy from the diner? The cocky one with the temper? What on earth was her father thinking inviting this guy to her celebratory dinner? Granted, she didn’t know it was a celebratory dinner when she’d arrived, but now that she did, she didn’t want him to be a part of it. Grady whatever-his-name-was did not deserve cake from Dandy’s.
Quinn glanced at Beverly, whose adoring expression appeared to have shifted from her father to the much younger man at his side. Oh, please. This guy was not to be admired. Had they all forgotten what he’d done to Betsy’s diner?
“Good to see you again, son.” Judge was using his judge voice.
Grady glanced over, visibly surprised to see the man who had issued his punishment sitting at the table in a social setting. He’d learn. This was how things worked in Harbor Pointe.
“Here, have a seat.” Gus pointed at the chair next to Quinn, then moved to the end of the table opposite the judge.
Quinn stared straight ahead while Grady found his seat.
“This is Calvin sitting across from you, and Beverly next to him. You already know Judge Harrison.”
Another glance toward Judge’s end of the table. Quinn almost smiled at the serious expression on the man’s face. How anyone could find Judge—a big, soft teddy bear—intimidating was beyond her. But people did. He was one of the most well-liked men in Harbor Pointe, but he was also one of the most feared. He was known for being fair and honest, but nobody ever had to wonder what the man was thinking.
She hoped some of that had rubbed off on her after all these years.
“Sir.” Grady gave him a quick nod, then turned his attention back to Gus.
“And this is my daughter Quinn.” Gus gave her a warm smile. She didn’t smile back. She’d let out a groan, but it would be too obvious.
“You were at the police station.” Grady was turned in her direction.
Quinn took a sip of water. “So were you.”
Judge let out a laugh. Quinn could sense her father’s eyes on her. He’d want her to behave, but she couldn’t help it. She knew Grady’s type. Not all the tourists understood or appreciated their way of life in Harbor Pointe. Maybe Quinn wasn’t being fair, but she didn’t feel the need to welcome this guy into their family.
“Beverly made the meatballs by hand. You’ve never tasted anything so good.” Gus nodded at the woman sitting next to him.
“Thanks for having me,” Grady said.
“Let’s pray.”
Oh no. Quinn forgot about the prayer. And the hand-holding.
What was she, twelve? It was no big deal. She watched as they all joined hands and felt a prodding squeeze from her father on her right. Slowly, she held out an upturned hand and Grady looked at it, confusion on his face. His eyes scanned the table, and when he realized they were that kind of family, he reached over and slid his strong hand around hers.
Just Let Go Page 4