"It will be revenue lost," Sharon said quietly.
"I know." Katrina covered her face with her hands, pressing the palms against her lids as if it would somehow block the images of destitution that accosted her. "I’ll meet with her and see what she wants."
Sharon made a small disapproving sound but Katrina ignored it. Maybe giving away books would make her feel less guilty for her deception.
"It’s good to donate to church." Katrina studied Sharon, waiting for her response. When her co-worker said nothing, she sighed heavily. "Maybe I have something at home that will work."
She reached forward to snag a pen to write herself a reminder. Sharon shot backwards to give her room and it was then Katrina saw why Sharon had been avoiding her gaze. An avocado shaped knot swelled the skin of Sharon’s cheekbone and the eye above her left cheek resembled a misshapen, bruised mass of flesh.
A gasp ripped from Katrina’s mouth. "What happened?" She started to move Sharon’s hair from her face for a better look, but Sharon jerked away.
"Kids," she mumbled.
"You’re blaming this on your children?" Katrina pulled back, jaw tight.
"It was an accident." Sharon’s shoulders dropped down and her gaze hovered somewhere beneath Katrina’s knees.
Gritting her teeth, she swallowed the reprimand seething inside.
The doorbell jingled. She bit back on the anger and stood up. The muscles in her back, stiff with tension, protested the movement. Wincing, she straightened.
"I’ll man the register. Can you call Widow Carmichael and let her know I’ll meet her?"
Sharon nodded and Katrina hurried out of the office. She hadn’t said so to her employee, but when she got back from her meeting with the church’s secretary, she intended to find out exactly what had happened to Sharon’s face.
*****
"It’s great to see you, Grant." Alec shook his old friend’s hand then sat down at the table Grant had been holding for him. Around them forks clinked against porcelain and the swell of voices testified to O’Donnell’s lucrative Monday lunch crowd.
"I’m glad you could escape your conference call to meet for lunch." Grant’s mouth curved in a wide arc. "So, what do you think about that property?"
"It’s prime." Alec signaled the waiter. "Did you order?"
"Nope."
They took a few minutes to look over the menu and place their orders. After that was done, Alec took stock of Grant. His friend had matured over the years, lost the pretty boy face his friends teased him over throughout high school. The police uniform he wore added to the tough look.
Alec nodded toward Grant’s clothes. "Government treating you well?"
Grant grinned. "Yeah, I get by. If the citizens of Manatee Bay behave, I might actually finish my lunch."
Alec took the water the waitress handed to him. "No one makes a fuss here."
"We’ve got a couple of troublemakers." Grant took his water then winked at the waitress. She blushed and smiled before rushing off.
Amused, Alec set his water down. "Flirting brings food faster?"
"It helps. Adds spice to my day, too." Grant’s cheeks dimpled and Alec didn’t bother to hide his smirk.
So Grant was a womanizer. A far cry from the nerdy prankster he’d been in high school. People changed. Alec unrolled his silverware and lined them up against his plate. Would people see him differently too?
"You’re still an organizer."
With surprise, Alec looked down at his place area. Maybe he hadn’t changed after all.
"You married?"
Grant’s question seemed to come out of nowhere and Alec schooled his face into a placid mask. "No. You?"
"No way." Grant laughed, leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "You came close though, closer than I ever have. You seen her lately?"
Because he could still hear Katrina’s voice in his head, see the sorrow in her eyes as she’d sat on the swing, he feigned ignorance. "Who?"
"Interesting." Grant’s brows pulled together. "You’re pretending not to know who I mean."
The waitress placed a basket of yeasty garlic bread on the table, her service probably faster than normal thanks to Grant’s masculine appeal. Alec grinned at the thought. He grabbed a slice of bread. He didn’t want to talk about Kitty or the depths of her deceit. Thinking about her, about the son he’d never had a chance to know, made him want to do something violent. Ram his fist into a wall or scream until his throat bled.
He dug into his food and hoped Grant would mind his own business.
Apparently that wasn’t possible. Grant let the subject rest for less than a minute.
"I called you about that building for more than one reason," Grant said. "When I saw her at the grocery store a few months ago, she freaked me out. The last time I saw her was eight years ago, at the park with her kid." He stopped talking as a grimace stretched his face. "He looked like you."
Alec’s throat convulsed and he reached for his water, unable to reply.
Grant’s fingers drummed against the table as Alec choked the water down.
"Was he yours?"
"Yes." Harsh and quick, the answer broke free from his lips.
"Why’d you leave then?" Grant paused, head cocked. "I never thought you’d be the type to abandon your kid. Just figured she’d cheated and that’s why—"
"I didn’t know about Joey." My son. He sipped his water again, willing the liquid to ease the parched sting inside. His jaw ached.
Disapproval painted a scowl on Grant’s face. "She kept him a secret."
Alec nodded slowly, almost feeling as though he betrayed her. Which was absurd. She’d done the betraying.
"I should have said something. Everyone felt so bad for her and I had my suspicions he was yours but I knew you wouldn’t leave your own kid." Grant visibly winced, then his features darkened. "I’m sorry."
Alec waved his hand, forcing himself to look fine. "It’s not like we talked more than once a year."
Grant shook his head. "At the store, she looked so lost and ill that I thought maybe you could help her, since she didn’t have any family left."
He didn’t want to help her. He wanted to hurt her, to punish her for the way she’d destroyed one of his greatest dreams. "Katrina and I aren’t close. I doubt I can help her with anything."
"No kidding. I wouldn’t either." Disgust thickened Grant’s voice. "You two didn’t keep in touch at all, huh?"
"The first time I saw her was Thursday, the day before the reunion."
"She still look rough?"
"Kind of." No, she’d looked beautiful to him. Sad, older, but lovely in her way. Too bad her beauty only flowed skin deep. He changed the subject. "The building is in a good spot. Are you sure you don’t want to take a share of the investment? There’ll be a huge profit."
"That’s generous of you, but I’m not a business man. I’ll buy the coffee though."
"We’ll give the police force a discount when we open," Alec said.
They finished eating in silence. Alec’s thoughts roved to Kitty. As if leaving him at the altar for no apparent reason in front of everyone hadn’t been enough, now he found out she’d done this to him. Let people think he'd left his child. Abandoned him. He clenched his fork, wishing it would break beneath the pressure of his hands. That it would gouge his skin, pain him in a different way to take his mind off the sore that festered in his heart.
He would never forgive her for this.
Ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
Katrina walked into O’Donnell’s at noon, scanned the room for the widow and plunged into a sea of lunchtime diners. Her head spun from all the noise, the mingling of scents that accosted her.
She didn’t want to be here, doling out free stuff because she felt guilty. Her friend Joe, the widow's pastor, could have come over and picked up the books. Why hadn’t she called him? Groaning, she beelined for a table in the center of the room where Widow Carmichael sat, her permanent frown sending
shivers up Katrina’s neck.
Just lunch. She could do this. Face the widow, appease her demands and then run back to the bookstore. Wetting her lips, she pulled out the chair and sat. The vinyl seat felt cold against her thighs, despite the warmth of the crowded room. She clutched her purse, pushing it against her stomach as if it could ward off the world around her.
"I’m so glad you could make it, Katrina." Widow Carmichael studied her over the rims of tiny oval glasses.
"Thank you for inviting me." She pushed her own glasses up and hoped the widow could hear her over the din.
"We’ll order first then talk, hmmm?"
"Sure." A forced smile twisted her lips and she picked up the plastic menu. The reunion had been easier to face than this crowded atmosphere. She hunkered down in her seat and let Pastor Joe’s secretary take charge. They ordered their food and waited for it to come, the widow passing the time with small talk about her granddaughter.
A waitress eventually brought their food. The scent of Katrina’s stuffed shells turned her stomach.
"We need new books for the church library," the widow said abruptly. "As a fellow Christian, I’m sure I can count on you to donate something." She smiled at Katrina, a menacing stretch of her wrinkled lips.
Somehow Katrina managed a few bites of food and a whispered consent to bring books by the church during the week. When Katrina thought she wouldn’t be able to handle another minute in the congested restaurant, the widow set down her fork.
"Do bring those books soon, dear. I’ll see you Sunday." She rose and swept out of the room, nose high, pocketbook in hand.
Katrina glanced at the unpaid bill that lay next to the widow’s empty plate. She was almost afraid to look in her wallet and discover a lack of funds. Did she have enough to cover both their meals? Joe would be so upset to know his secretary had left her with the check. Somehow she had to pay up.
Face ablaze, she opened her purse and dug for her wallet. Her skin prickled suddenly. Almost as though someone were watching her. Shoulders forward, she peeked around the room. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.
Releasing the breath caught in her throat, she carefully counted out the cash she’d tucked in this morning. A dollar short. And she still felt eyes on her. She fumbled with the wallet and spilled change onto the table. Several quarters rolled off the edge. She counted out the four quarters still on the table and scooped up the rest of the change, sliding it into the zippered pocket of her wallet. She eyed the money on the floor.
Only a few coins, but they’d buy eggs. Before she could lean forward and snatch them up, a man bent in front of her. His tan fingers plucked the quarters from the ground in a smooth movement and his overly long hair fell past his features.
Cologne, a tease of old memories, rose above the scents of lunch, and her breath hitched. Prickles skittered across the backs of her hands.
"Playing when you should be working?" Alec held out the money. His tone sounded tight and his eyes seared her. They blazed, scorched her conscience, pointed out her perfidy.
Fingers trembling, she held out a hand and he dumped the money into her palm, careful not to touch her. His hair, so like Joey’s, hung over one eye as though it couldn’t be bothered to stay where it should. Tears stung the backs of her eyelids but she met his burning gaze.
"Thank you."
Their eyes locked and for a moment the past rushed up against her, a deep and cold wave that threatened to pull her to the depths of her grief until she drowned. He nodded. The swift, curt movement of his chin left no doubt as to where she stood in his opinion.
She squeezed the money in her palm, letting the coins’ edges bite into her skin. If only he’d leave. Leave her to the selfish sorrow that had been her only company for the last three years. But she didn’t deserve a reprieve. Look at what she’d done to him. For the rest of his life, he’d remember this.
And she doubted he’d ever forgive the betrayal.
There was a deep, angry look to the set of his chin. So cold...swallowing hard, she looked away. She watched as his shoes shifted direction, as they left her sitting alone and afraid, and wondering if things would ever feel right again.
*****
Tuesday morning, Alec signed on the dotted line. He scribbled his name throughout the pages of the contract then handed it to the building’s owner.
Greg Seaward grabbed at the contract from across their table at Denny’s, his sausage fingers quick to flip through the folder in search of Alec’s check. He smiled, then took the check out and stuffed it in his back pocket. The booth groaned as he leaned forward, belly digging into the edges of the table.
"What are you going to do now?" Alec asked while glancing around the busy restaurant. As soon as the bill came, he could head back to Manatee Bay and settle things with Katrina once and for all.
Seaward scratched his week’s worth of whiskers. "There’s a place in Orlando that looks promising. Too much effort trying to drive down to Manatee Bay once a month. This here’s a good building. I’ll miss the money. Lots of revenue from the pizza place."
"Not so much from Kat’s Korner, huh?"
The man grinned, the check in his pocket loosening his tongue. "That one’s been late on the payment a few times. I wanted to give her the boot but she’s so sad and all, I was waiting."
For a better lease agreement, Alec bet, but he kept silent. Thankfully the waitress came and after paying, he waved to Seaward and drove back to his hotel.
For the next few days he wrapped up other business for his uncle and cleared his schedule for the coming weeks. And as he worked, a thick and steady anger grew within. He snapped at his secretary over the phone and lost his temper with a slow waiter.
All Katrina’s fault.
He couldn’t forget her sitting at O’Donnell’s, calmly having lunch with the Widow Carmichael, a spiteful excuse for a woman. He’d scared Katrina when he gave her the measly pile of coins. She’d paled, shriveled before his very eyes. Maybe she’d seen deeper than he intended, straight down to his bone-deep rage.
Good. Scaring her had felt right. The satisfaction of having the upper hand eased the monster inside that clawed at his guts for justice.
Alec checked out of his hotel on Friday, lugged his bags to the new car he’d rented and hoisted them in. As he drove to Manatee Bay, his head pounded with the rhythm of his thoughts. He gripped the wheel, readying himself to tell Katrina exactly what he thought of her as soon as he walked into her store.
And then he’d slam the contract down and take from her, just as she’d stolen from him. Jaw clenched, he turned off the interstate and onto the narrow road that would lead him to his hometown.
He wouldn’t hide his actions from her. Sneak around like a coward. Up front and honest, he’d give her the tiniest taste of what had been goring his conscience for the last week.
Thus prepared, he pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of Kat’s Korner. He marched up to the store and jerked on the door handle. It didn’t open. Scowling, he shaded his eyes and peered in. No lights.
"Excuse me?"
A cigarette-crackled voice intruded on his spying and he swiveled around. The woman had come out of the pizza place. Familiar frizzy blonde hair, broad smile and dimples in each cheek.
"Hey, Lynn." He took a quick breath, trying to check the anger still swirling through him.
She squinted. "Alec Munroe?"
"Yeah." He thumbed his jean pockets, tempted to bolt back to his car.
That broad smile of hers faded, replaced by a frown. "Kat’s Korner is closed."
"For how long?"
"What’s it to you?"
Oh, yeah. Definitely an edge to her tone. She’d always liked Katrina. He remembered the dirty looks they’d get when Lynn served them long ago. Lynn hadn’t approved of him. She still didn’t.
He flicked his gaze over her, made his expression into the blank stare that unnerved haggling sellers. Lynn took a step back.
Unc
le Jim’s intimidation tactics could always be counted on.
Alec stepped forward, out of the sun and into the meager shade provided by the building’s overhang. His shirt clung damp to his skin, despite the move. "I need to talk to Katrina. Where can I find her?"
Lynn’s eyes widened. "I heard her friend Rachel say they were going to Sharon’s, over on Patton Place." In a quick movement, she disappeared into the Pizza Place.
Hopped away like a scared little rabbit.
Jaw clenched, Alec turned on his heel and jumped in the car. He felt like cussing but he’d quit the habit after becoming a Christian months ago. The last thing he needed was to butt heads with nosy Rachel. She’d try to block Katrina from him.
He frowned and started the car. No one could keep him from Katrina. She deserved every bit of what was coming to her.
Justice.
*****
A rescue mission wasn’t Katrina’s idea of fun. She scrunched into the seat of Rachel’s SUV, consumed with thoughts of Alec. She shot a look at Rachel’s determined profile. Was this even necessary, dragging Sharon from her home? After lunch with Widow Carmichael the other day, Katrina had sucked up all the guts she had and forced herself to ask Sharon if Steve hit her.
Sharon denied any wrongdoing on his part, insisting he would never do something like that. Katrina wasn’t so sure. She’d met him a few times and found his unblinking stare disturbing. Over the years, avoiding him became a pattern because he sent chills up her spine.
She shivered and hunched lower in her seat as Rachel swung around a curve in the road. Rachel could have done this herself. What if Steve were there? What if he came home from work while they loaded up the kids?
She frowned and stared out the passenger window.
Rachel pulled onto a driveway of cracked asphalt. The dilapidated house caught Katrina by surprise. "Was it this run-down last week?"
"You were in a fog and didn’t notice." Rachel turned off the engine and they both got out of the vehicle.
"Let’s do this." Rachel marched to the door and rapped three times.
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