The Comeback Kiss

by Lani Diane Rich

  Well. There was a first time for everything.

  The door flew open and Babs stepped in, smiling brightly. “My ride seems to have run off,” Babs said.

  “Huh?” Finn turned to face her. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “I assume it was something you did?”

  Finn nodded. “That’d be the smart bet.”

  “Oh, Dermot,” she said. “For such a charming young man, you can be such an abominable putz.”

  Suddenly Finn felt bone-tired, and the last tiling he wanted to do was discuss his life with a Manhattan Presbyterian who used the word “putz.”

  “Where’s my car?”

  Babs reached into her purse, pulled a set of keys out, and handed them to Finn. “It’s at the diner.”

  He took the keys and motioned vaguely around the shack.

  “It ain’t the Ritz, but you’ll survive for an hour,” he said. “I’m gonna hike into town and get the car.”

  Babs gasped and leaned down over the dog. “What an adorable little creature! Is he yours?”

  “No,” Finn said.

  “Oh, you are a cute little fellow,” Babs said, scratching Wallace on the head. Wallace shot a look of victory up at Finn.

  “She’s all yours, dog.”

  “Hmmm?” Babs said, looking up at Finn.

  Finn sighed and focused on Babs. “When I get back, I’m taking you down to Brattleboro and putting you on the next bus back to the city. Then, after I’m done with the Boston job, I’ll bring the car back with me to New York. That’s the plan.”

  “Hmmm,” Babs said, with just a hint of judgment in her voice.

  Finn tightened his grip on the keys. “You got something to say?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just thought you might stay, you know, for a little while. Take the opportunity to reunite with your family.” She smiled innocently. “Your uncle seems lovely.”

  “Lovely, huh?” Finn said. “We talking about the same guy? Because as I remember, lovely isn’t a synonym for cranky old fucker, but then, I left my copy of Roget’s at home.”

  Babs sat down on the edge of the bed. Wallace wedged his head between her knees and lolled his head back, his neck exposed for her to scratch.

  Suck-up.

  “You know, I was estranged from Dana for a long time,” she said. “Not quite as long as you and your uncle, but still. I will never get those years back. Neither will you.”

  “Babs, I appreciate your concern, a little, but you don’t know anything about me and Max, okay? So butt out.”

  “I know he raised you,” Babs continued. “I don’t need to know anything else. When you’re a parent to someone, Finn, it doesn’t make you infallible. It just makes you vulnerable. Everything they do, everything they say can break your heart. And if Max is anything like you—stubborn, closed-off, emotionally stunted—then I can see why he might have said those things to you. It doesn’t mean he meant them.”

  “Emotionally stunted?” Finn took that in. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Babs sighed and stood up. “I’ve never met your father...”

  “Dangerous territory, Babs,” Finn growled. “Watch your step.”

  She continued to talk over him. “...but I know your character well enough to know you’re nothing like a man who would abandon a sick wife with two young children.”

  “You don’t know anything.” He didn’t want to talk about his father, or Max, or any of it. Anyone with an ounce of sense would be able to see that.

  Unfortunately, he was dealing with Babs.

  “Max knows it, too,” she went on. “I’d bet everything I own that he didn’t mean a word of what he said to you that night, but you’ll never know unless you talk to him.” Finn watched Babs for a second as a thought, which had been forming at the back of his head, jumped up front and center.

  “There is no Boston job, is there?”

  Babs scoffed. “Of course there’s a Boston job.”

  “You manipulated this whole situation to get me stranded here. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.” He reached to the floor, grabbed his pack, and tossed it over his shoulder. “Emotionally stunted, my ass. Mentally stunted, that’s what I am.”

  “I had to do something,” Babs said. “I had a responsibility.”

  “You have a personality disorder. Why is everything your business?”

  “Why is it not? I think this nonsense about ‘my business, your business’ is just another way to keep people at arm’s length.”

  “If we’re ever in a church together, remind me to douse you with holy water. Just a test.”

  “You confided those things to me on your deathbed.”

  “It wasn’t my deathbed. I fell from a fire escape.”

  “And you called me to come to your aid. That meant something to me, Finn.”

  “I called to let you know that one of your stupid favors damn near killed me.”

  “The point is, you confided in me.”

  “I was doped up on painkillers. I didn’t know what I was saying.” He closed his eyes. This was why he didn’t drink. The slightest mind-altering substance, and his brain went soft and he got all... talky.

  “You confided in me,” Babs repeated, “thus making it my responsibility to help you, as it’s apparent you’re too stubborn to help yourself.”

  “Just say the words,” Finn said. “There is no Boston job, is there?” Babs pursed her lips and shrugged noncommittally. Finn let out an I’m-gonna-kill-you laugh and stared her down. “And how long were you gonna string me along here?”

  Babs shrugged. “I would have told you by Saturday.”

  “Saturday.” Finn took this in for a moment. “You were going to string me along here for three more days?”

  “And now I don’t have to,” Babs said, grinning. “You’re suspected in that fire. You can’t leave town. See how perfectly everything is working out?”

  “I can leave town,” Finn said. “I’m not officially a suspect.”

  “But you’ll look like a suspect if you leave,” Babs said. “I heard your brother say so himself at the diner this morning. Seems like such a nice young man, by the way.”

  Finn was about to comment on Joe’s nice-young- man-ness when another suspicion hit him. “Babs, tell me you didn’t start that fire.”

  Babs laughed. “Oh, goodness, no. It was a brilliant move on the part of Fate, though, don’t you think? Just convinces me all the more that I did the right thing.”

  Finn ran his fingers over his eyes until they pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Okay. You know what? Talking to you is pointless. I know this. So I’m done. I’m gonna go get the car, and you’re getting on the next bus back to New York. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Babs said. “This town is absolutely charming. I’m not going anywhere. All I require is a nice little bed-and-breakfast, and I think I’ll turn this into a much-needed vacation. Do you know I’ve never been to Vermont before?”

  Finn released a breath. “You can’t stay here.”

  “Sure I can,” Babs said. “And I think you know how pointless it is to argue with me. Now, do you have a place to recommend, or shall I hunt down a set of yellow pages?” Finn took a moment. She was right about the pointlessness of arguing. Firing squads were more compromising than Babs once she’d made up her mind. And who knew? She might come in handy if things got sticky for him.

  Babs was a major pain in the ass, but he’d never met anyone more fiercely loyal in his life, and the woman had a knack for getting her way. Whether he liked it or not, she was a good friend to have around, and he was in short supply of good friends.

  “Fine,” he said. “You wanna stay? Stay. But no more screwing with my life.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You stuck me here; you did your part. From here on out, no matter how badly you think I’m handling things, you stay out of it, understood?”

  “Of course.”

 
He paused for a moment. “And there’s something else.”

  “For you? Anything.”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for Tessa, and it’s a long story, so don’t ask questions, just do what I say, okay?”

  Babs smiled, her face open and receptive. Finn took a deep breath.

  “I’m a private detective from Las Vegas. You work for me. We just came from there, and in a few days, we’re going back. Anyone wants to know anything else, be evasive. No making up grand stories, nothing I might have to back up later. If they pry, then claim client confidentiality and shut up about it. Okay?”

  Babs let loose with a small laugh. “Wow. She’s really been telling some whoppers, huh?”

  Finn opened the door. “You have no idea.”

  ***

  Tessa pushed through the door to Max’s Diner. She’d stopped briefly back at the house, made sure that Izzy was at home and staying there, threatened her with various forms of television/computer/telephone/allowance restrictions, and rushed back to the diner. She was already tired, distracted, and cranky; by the time she finished her shift, things were bound to get really ugly.

  “Hey, Tessa,” Joe said, meeting her by the counter. He was wearing an apron tied around his waist and had a pencil tucked behind his ear. The place was fairly dead, just a few stragglers from the breakfast crowd.

  “Thanks for picking up the slack,” Tessa said.

  “No problem,” Joe said. “Brings me back to my high school days.”

  “Lot of that going around,” Tessa mumbled.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Nothing. Sorry I took so long. Things kinda got”—she puffed her bangs up with a sharp release of breath—“complicated.”

  “It’s okay.” Joe sat down at the counter, drummed a beat on the surface with his fingers before continuing. “So. He’s still here.”

  “Huh?” Tessa ducked under the counter, grabbed a rag, and popped back up. “Oh. Finn. Yeah.”

  “You look upset.”

  “I do?” She relaxed her face. “I’m not.”

  Joe’s face went hard. “He upset you?”

  “Oh, God, Joe, not now, okay? Yes, having Finn here is intense, but I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself.” Joe went quiet. Tessa felt something torque inside. Joe felt so much like a big brother that sometimes she forgot he was an ex, and the rules were different for how you treated an ex.

  “Thank you, Joe, for being concerned, but it’s not a big deal. We were in the shack ...” She paused. “In the shack” was Lucy’s Lake High’s euphemism for having sex; easily a quarter of the student body had lost their virginity in the shack. It was one of those phrases you couldn’t use within town boundaries without it sounding dirty. “Not like that. You know what I mean. Just talking. It was no big deal, really.”

  “Well,” Joe said, getting up from the counter and untying the strings on his apron. “Everybody’s pretty much just finishing their refills on coffee. Max is in the back, but be warned—he’s in a bad mood.”

  “And this is different from every other day how?”

  Joe gave her a dark look and Tessa understood instantly.

  Finn.

  “Well,” Joe said, “I should probably go.”

  Tessa reached out and grabbed Joe’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you. Really.”

  Joe gave her a small nod, then headed to the front to grab his coat. Tessa sighed. Joe was so... good. So noble. Always did the right thing. Too bad there was no one in Lucy’s Lake worthy of him, including her.

  “Tessa?”

  Tessa blinked and looked up to see Margie Fletcher standing at the counter, holding her bill and some cash.

  “Oh, hey, Margie. Sorry. Spaced out there for a moment.” Tessa punched the numbers into the cash register. “How was your meal?”

  “Great,” Margie said. She settled on a stool and leaned in. “I actually wanted to ask you... is everything okay with Izzy?”

  “Define okay,” Tessa said flatly.

  “It’s just...” Margie looked around. No one was in the place except Digger Hodges, who was sitting at the back attacking a plate of eggs, and he was deaf in one ear anyway. Margie sighed, relaxed in her seat, and smiled tentatively at Tessa. “I’m a little worried about her.”

  Tessa took a moment to remember the flu story she’d made Izzy call in sick with. “Oh, she’s fine. It’s just a little bug.”

  Margie shook her head. “No, I’m sure she’ll be fine. What’s concerning me is that... well...” Margie nibbled on her lip, an oddly juvenile habit for a woman in her late forties, but then Margie had always been really youthful. “She broke into the safe in my office yesterday.”

  Tessa froze. No, it wasn’t possible. Izzy would never... she wouldn’t...”

  Oh, hell. She so would.

  “What did she take?” Tessa asked, her heart pounding and her mind racing. “Whatever it is, she will be bringing it back as soon as I can get over there and kick her little—”

  “Don’t get mad,” Margie said. “She didn’t take anything, as far as I can tell. I think it was just a... I don’t know. A prank, I guess? But it worries me. It’s not like her.”

  Tessa kept quiet about that. “She will be over to apologize first thing tomorrow.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Margie said. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Okay,” Tessa said, her lungs tightening in her chest as the panic hit. “So... um... you’re not going to press charges, then?”

  Margie smiled warmly and put her hand on Tessa’s. “God, no. Are you kidding?”

  “You’d have every right,” Tessa said, wondering why she wasn’t just shutting up while she was ahead.

  Margie reached over and grabbed Tessa’s hand. “Your mother was one of my best friends, and one of the biggest troublemakers I’ve ever known. That’s why I loved her so much. I just don’t want to see Izzy pick up those traits before she’s eighteen or that horrid social worker is dead.” She released Tessa’s hand and smiled. “Whichever comes first.”

  The panic subsided, replaced by intense relief and a frustrating sense of helplessness. Tessa wished not for the first time that Max had a liquor license.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Pffft.” Margie waved her hand in the air dismissively. Then her smile faded a bit. “I just wanted you to, you know, keep an eye on her. I don’t want to see her get into trouble.”

  “Oh,” Tessa said, slamming the register shut and holding out Margie’s change, “trust me, I will.”

  Margie got up from the stool and closed Tessa’s hand over the change. “You keep that.”

  Tessa smiled. “I’ll make sure Joe gets it.”

  “Yes, do that,” Margie said. “Joe’s a really good man.”

  “Yeah,” Tessa said. “He is.”

  Margie pulled her purse over her shoulder and shot a thoughtful look back at Tessa. “I hear his brother is back in town.”

  “That seems to be the case.”

  “Did he really save the animals at Vickie’s?”

  “Yeah,” Tessa said, feeling a strange swell of pride. “He did.”

  Margie nodded and leaned over the counter. “Well, a little advice, woman to woman?”

  Tessa tried not to let her surprise register on her face. Margie Fletcher wasn’t a gossip, or the type to give unsolicited advice, so if she had something to say, it was probably worth listening to.

  “Sometimes people only seem like they’ve changed,” she said. “You can’t be too careful.”

  Tessa let out a short laugh. “Heard about me and Finn by the drugstore, huh?”

  Margie blushed a bit. “Flower shop and gossip. They go together like chocolate and peanut butter.” She smiled softly at Tessa. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can tell me to butt out and I will.”

  “Thank you. But Finn and me? We’re not, uh...” She flashed back to the kiss in the shack and her shoulders tensed. “I don’t know what we aren’t. But
don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will.” Margie smiled, gave a small wave, and left. Tessa watched her go, took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed. She waited through three rings, then listened to her own voice instructing her to leave a message.

  “Izzy, I assume you’re home pretending to be sick and not answering the phone. Continue to do so, because when I get home tonight, you and I are gonna have a very special episode of Blossom, kid.”

  She slammed the phone down, closed her eyes, and imagined a line of Mary Ellen Neeleys on a carnival duck shoot game. She mentally aimed her rifle and shot every one.

  “For Pete’s sake!” an old, rusted voice shouted out from the back of the diner. Tessa opened her eyes and saw Digger holding his cup out. “Who’s a guy got to kill to get a damn refill around here?”

  Tessa grabbed the carafe off the warmer and headed over. “You just bought yourself a switch to decaf, mister.”

  Chapter Ten

  Joe Finnegan raised his hand, hesitated, then tapped lightly on Matt Tarpey’s office door.

  “Yeah,” Tarpey barked from inside, his way of saying, “Come on in.”

  Joe pushed the door open and walked in. Tarpey, a big hulk of a man with fists reminiscent of cinder blocks, was huddled over a tiny office golf setup, preparing for his putt.

  “Joe Finnegan,” he said. “Why am I not surprised to have a visit from you today?”

  “Your gift of prescience?” Joe glanced at the papers on Tarpey’s desk as he sat down. On top of an open manila folder was a spread of Polaroid pictures of Vickie Kemp’s charred back office. There also appeared to be something that came off the fax, although Joe couldn’t read it from where he was standing.

  “Yeah, I’m known worldwide for my ability to predict the obvious,” Tarpey said, wiggling his hips back and forth in a way Joe could have been perfectly happy going his entire life without seeing. Tarpey whacked the ball and sent it rolling somewhere three to four feet to the left of the hole.

  “Damn warped floor,” he grumbled and went after his ball. “The wife says playing golf is supposed to relax me, lower my cholesterol. I think it’s a big crock, but you know women. You can argue, or you can sleep in the bed.” Joe shrugged at that. What he understood about women was limited, at best. But that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to discuss with Matt Tarpey.