Saving Alyssa

by Loree Lough

  “I think you’ll look real pretty as Snow White,” he said, looking at the costume she’d pointed out.

  She hopped down from her chair and put the catalog on his desk. “You should order it tonight, so it gets here in plenty of time.” Then she headed for the living room.

  “I think you must have left your manners at school.” She looked a little puzzled until he said, “Don’t I get a please or thank you?”

  “Please and thank you for ordering the costume tonight. Can I watch some TV now?”

  Her attitude was disappointing, but he wasn’t in a mood to lecture her. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said instead. “No TV. You were supposed to clean your room, and you didn’t.”

  Her shoulders drooped in a full-body pout, and she trudged in that direction. “Fine. I’ll do it now,” she snapped.

  “Hey. Get back here, missy.”

  She huffed and puffed, then stood before him and stared at the floor.

  “Sulking is against Preston House rules. You know that. So what’s with the big frown?”

  “I don’t want to clean my room. My friend Sheila doesn’t have to clean her room. And neither does Molly or Emily.”

  Noah stood back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, really. Who cleans their rooms?”

  “Their mothers do it. Their mothers do everything.”

  Translation: she didn’t have a mother. And if he had anything to say about it, she’d never find out why. He could let his guilt dictate his decisions, let it goad him into giving in to her every whim—and guarantee she’d become a self-centered, spoiled brat.

  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then gently turned her around. “Call me when your room looks shipshape.”

  She was a good kid, and so far, hadn’t learned how to hold a grudge. He always felt bad when he was forced to hold her feet to the fire. Tonight, after he tucked her in, he would get online and try to order the costume.

  She deserved more, a whole lot more, but in their circumstances, Noah was limited as to what he could give her. Couldn’t even let her go trick-or-treating, like other kids. It wasn’t likely anyone would recognize her, but he couldn’t take that chance.

  So he’d come up with a next best thing. In years past, kids had come to Main Street from Annapolis, Baltimore City, even as far away as Frederick to take part in the annual trick-or-treat event. Alyssa enjoyed standing at the door of their shop, playing hostess as she dropped candy into tote bags and plastic pumpkins. She’d never complained, but he could tell that she would much rather get treats than give them, so he’d promised to give her a nickel for every one she shared, and encouraged her to contribute the money to the children’s center at Johns Hopkins.

  But in a few short years, she wouldn’t even want to go trick-or-treating. How would he feel when that time came, and he had to admit she’d missed out on yet another childhood memory because of the lifestyle made necessary by his past mistakes?

  “Somebody’s at the back porch,” Alyssa said, breaking into his thoughts.

  It surprised him to see Billie here already. “Come on in,” he said, opening the door.

  She said a cursory thanks and headed straight for Alyssa.

  “Found some cool scrunchies,” she said. “They’re tiny, and perfect for braids.”

  While they inspected the colorful blobs of material, Noah closed the door and stepped into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and hoped it wasn’t too soon after his stomach bug…and wondered how to put a stop to the growing affection between Billie and his daughter. His girl wanted a mom, and his neighbor seemed to fit the bill. But according to Troy, she had emotional baggage, and Noah couldn’t take the chance that her issues might spill on to Alyssa.

  He heard his daughter say, “Are you here to fix the computer?”

  Noah carried his mug into the living room as Billie asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I can’t watch my movies on it anymore.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said, “if you know the password.” He looked at Billie. “Lots of weird stuff out there. I don’t want her stumbling into any of it, accidently.”

  Alyssa started to protest, until Billie said, “That’s a great idea. It only takes a few seconds for your dad to type in the code.”

  He raised his mug, more to thank her for backing him up than to invite her to join him.

  “I’d love some,” she said. And while he went and poured her a cup, she asked, “So what’s up with your website?”

  “I’m having trouble accessing the comments page.”

  “Well, we have to do something about that,” she said, heading back to the living room. “Who knows how many potential customers might have asked for your advice!”

  Billie sat in his big desk chair, which made her look even smaller than her five-foot-two-inch height. “Pull up a chair,” she told him, “and let’s see if we can solve this little mystery.”

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and as pages popped up on the screen, she slid the mouse around on its pad. A moment later, his website’s comments page appeared.

  “I don’t get it. I goofed around with it for half an hour last night, and it wouldn’t open for me.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. Computers resent being goofed around with.”

  Billie stood and gestured for him to take her place in the chair, then knelt beside the desk. She was a good teacher, and patiently walked him through the steps, then made him repeat them without her help. “By Jove,” he said when the third try produced the right results, “I think I’ve got it.”

  Alyssa joined them and put her catalog on his desk. “Since you know how to use the internet now, can we order my costume?”

  His satisfaction disappeared, and in its place, doubt. But Billie wasn’t having it. With that same patient, gentle voice, she taught him how to find the company’s website, fill in the form and place the order. Within seconds, his email alert pinged, confirming that it had gone through.

  “Well, cupcake, looks like your costume will arrive…” he read the message aloud “‘…in five working days.’”

  “Yay! Thanks, Billie!”

  “Don’t thank me,” she said. “Your dad is the one paying for the costume!”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He didn’t know which hurt more, her lack of enthusiasm or the fact that she’d called him Dad instead of Daddy.

  “I wish I could go from house to house,” Alyssa said, “like all the other kids. So everybody could see my pretty costume.”

  “They’ll see it,” he told her, “when they trick-or-treat here at the shop.”

  Billie’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs and her eyes widened. For a moment he wished he could read minds, because he’d love to know what was going on in that quick-witted head of hers.

  “How about you go put your new scrunchies where they belong?” she said to Alyssa.

  Instantly, his daughter agreed.

  When she was out of earshot, Billie said, “I’m guessing she stays here, handing out candy, because you can’t be in two places at one time.”

  She hadn’t phrased it as a question, and yet Noah felt obliged to explain. “Yeah. That pretty much covers it.”

  “That’s a shame. Some of my best childhood memories center around trick-or-treating with my brothers and a big pack of neighborhood kids.”

  “Yeah,” he said again, “same here. Maybe you could take her.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d said the words out loud. Evidently, the suggestion surprised Billie, too.

  “Me?”

  “You’re going to think I’m a greedy, ungrateful pig,” he said, “asking another favor of you.”

  “Another favor?”

  “You took her to rehearsal, remember? And again, thanks for the chicken soup, by the way. It really hit the spot. Might even have been what helped me turn the corner.”

  “Oh. That. No big deal. I was happy to do it.”

  He didn’t need mind-r
eading talents to know she meant every word, and her sincerity stirred something in his heart. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

  “She’s only gone door-to-door once,” he said, mostly to distract himself from the feeling, “but she was just two at the time and doesn’t remember it. Jillian dressed her up like a little lamb.”

  “Aw, I’ll bet she looked adorable.”

  She had. Not long ago, the image would have really hurt. Circumstance had put him in the peculiar position of giving Alyssa a great memory…and he wouldn’t be there to share it if Billie took her trick-or-treating. Noah honestly didn’t know which hurt more.

  Alyssa joined them as Billie said, “What if I mind the shop while you take her?”

  “Take me where?”

  Billie understood, really understood. Did she realize that with her thoughtful offer, she’d made it tougher to stay away from her?

  “Take you trick-or-treating,” Billie said.

  “But…but who will give the children their candy?”

  “I will,” she answered.

  Alyssa looked at Noah. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He’d seen that look before. Any second now, she’d launch herself into Billie’s arms to demonstrate her gratitude. Having been on the receiving end of an exuberant Alyssa hug, he knew it could knock a woman Billie’s size on her keester. Bending at the waist, he whispered, “Easy does it, kiddo. She’s not a whole lot bigger than you are.”

  Alyssa ratcheted back her excitement a notch and wrapped Billie in a gentle hug. “This will be my very very first ever going trick-or-treating.” She squeezed Billie a little tighter. “Thank you,” she said. “I love you!”

  Billie looked over Alyssa’s head and straight into Noah’s eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she might burst into tears—happy tears, as Alyssa liked to say. Billie’s eyes glittered, reminding him of those sweet, warm moments beside the campfire. Alyssa wanted a mom, and he wanted that for her, too. If things were different, if he was different—

  Billie’s cell phone rang, shattering the moment. Giving Alyssa’s hair an affectionate tousle, she read the number in the caller ID window.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. “It’s my mom.” She pointed at the deck door. “Be right back.”

  Alyssa helped herself to a handful of popcorn as Billie stepped outside.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked, popping a kernel into his mouth.

  “I wanted a snack after Billie brought me home last night. She didn’t think you’d like me eating sweets so close to bedtime, so she made popcorn.”

  “Good woman,” he said, watching as she leaned against the railing. As she nodded. Shook her head. Shrugged. And tipped her head back to laugh. Did she throw herself wholly into everything this way? Yeah, something told him she did. Which made it harder still to accept that she could never be more than a friendly acquaintance.

  She did a little jig. Marched in place. What in the world had her mother said to inspire that!

  Noah didn’t need to hear the discussion to know that Billie and her mom shared a warm, loving relationship. He’d always gotten along well with his parents, too. Oh, what he’d give to have an ordinary conversation with his mom, his dad, his sister Grace, like Billie was enjoying now! If it had been any other woman out there, enjoying an animated exchange with a family member, he’d wonder if she appreciated just how lucky she was. But it wasn’t any other woman out there. It was Billie Landon, who didn’t know how to do anything halfway. Exactly the type of woman who could make him break his Stay Single rule. If he had a mind to break it. Which he couldn’t.

  Liar, he told himself as she reentered the kitchen.

  “For the first time in my life,” she said, “I believe those doomsday people might be on to something.”

  Noah chuckled. “What?”

  “I invited my folks here for Thanksgiving, and I knew it was going to be crowded and maybe a little crazy, but she just canceled the holiday, and that has never happened before.”

  “Nobody’s sick, I hope.”

  “No, no, nothing like that. My brother Todd—Troy’s twin—and his wife are going on a cruise, and they invited Mom and Dad to go with them.” Billie grabbed a small handful of popcorn. “And they’re going. More proof that the end of the world must be near, because my mother hates boats!” Laughing, Billie added, “I can hardly wait to see Troy’s face when I tell him!” She popped a few kernels into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Guess it’ll just be the five of us, then.”

  “Five…?”

  She tapped the kitchen table with every name she mentioned: “Troy, Bud, Alyssa, you and me.”

  Meaning this year they’d have a full-fledged, eat-till-you-drop meal? Sure would beat the turkey TV dinners they’d eaten the past three years. “That’s three more than we’re used to, isn’t it, cupcake?”

  “Yes. It is.” Alyssa turned toward Billie. “Have you made Thanksgiving dinner before?”

  Billie already looked pretty angelic, in his opinion. The woman must be easy to please, because it took only his daughter’s voice to sweeten the look.

  “Are you kidding?” she countered. “Why, I can whip up a turkey-day meal that will make you swoon.”

  Alyssa’s brow furrowed. “What does swoon mean?”

  “Faint.”

  “Have you ever fainted, Daddy?”

  “Not that I recall. But if people are gonna be dropping like flies, I can’t think of a better reason.”

  “Dropping like flies,” Alyssa echoed, rolling her eyes. “He says old-fashioned things like that all the time.”

  When Billie aimed a sideways glance at Noah, his pulse quickened.

  “I can believe that,” she said.

  Alyssa picked two unpopped kernels from the bottom of the bowl and showed them to Noah. “What do you call these again?”

  “Flopcorn,” he said.

  Alyssa looked at Billie. “See? What did I tell you?”

  She was gazing at him, not his little girl, when she said, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I like old-fashioned things.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “WHOA. UNCLE HANK. You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  O’Malley glared at his nephew. “You try spending three years in a place like this, see how you look.” He slapped his hand on the stainless tabletop. “Park it. I won’t be talked down to.”

  Nigel sat and folded big hands on the table. Did he realize how ridiculous he looked, O’Malley wondered, with his hair plugs, fake tan and too-white teeth? It galled him that this sycophant shopped at Chicago’s exclusive George Greene, while he was forced to endure stiff, scratchy prison garb. He blamed his sister for a lot of what was wrong with Nigel. O’Malley sniggered. She’d named him Nigel….

  “Do you have news for me, or did you just come here to show off your Zanone sweater?”

  Nigel sniffed. “This is last year’s—”

  “News, Nigel. Plain and simple. What is your father doing these days?”

  “Dad hasn’t been doing anything,” his nephew began, “but my brother has been going through my drawers again.”

  Thankfully, he’d remembered the plan, and picked up on the cues. “Hoping to find some Henri Lloyd socks, no doubt.”

  Nigel flinched as if hit. Blanched. Poor dumb fool had no idea how to proceed. Hopefully, he wouldn’t look at the camera hanging from the ceiling, because if he did, the game was over.

  “Nigel. You know me. Always kidding.” O’Malley laughed, too long and too hard, but it bought him some time to think of a way to reassure his nephew. Time to send the coded message that he got it: “dad” meant the FBI, and “brother” the Marshals Service.

  “I know perfectly well how much it upsets you when your brother pokes through your things. It upsets me, too. But don’t you worry about it. Your brother will find something else to focus on soon, and when he does, he’ll stop going through your stuff.”

  Nige
l exhaled the breath he’d been holding and removed his pricy leather jacket. He’d probably paid more for it than O’Malley had paid for his first car.

  “Would you believe that wacky brother of mine has a girlfriend?”

  Nigel laughed, a harsh nasal sound that reminded O’Malley of the Wicked Witch.

  “Can you believe it?” he continued. “A tall redhead. Nice looking. Smart. And sneaky.”

  Maybe his stupid nephew wasn’t so stupid, after all. “How do you know she’s smart and sneaky?”

  “Because she loves keeping my brother on his toes. Never calls him at the same time twice, shows up when he least expects it.” He leaned forward to add, “And I caught her going through his things.”

  “A little ‘what goes around, comes around,’ eh?”

  Nigel’s smile was proof that he got the joke, told for the benefit of the goon monitoring the camera feed.

  O’Malley pretended that he’d paused to work the kinks out of his neck, while he rapidly thought this through. There was only one reason for the Marshals Service to check up on him: Nate Judson. The rat was out there somewhere, living the good life, while O’Malley slept with one eye open every night. If Nigel could get hold of Judson’s whereabouts…

  Hank smirked. Clenched his hands. Oh, it would feel good, balancing that account.

  “I know your brother annoys you,” he began, “but you have to do the right thing.”

  Nigel frowned. “Which is…?”

  “Follow his big redheaded girlfriend. Find out as much about her as you can. Because if she’s sneaking around in your brother’s things, who knows what other secrets she’s hiding?” O’Malley signaled the guard. “It won’t be easy, but it’s best for everyone.”

  Nigel nodded and looked directly into his eyes.

  “You’re a smart young man,” O’Malley said, “and I’m proud to be related to you.”

  An hour later, he was seated in the library, doing his best to concentrate while the inmates around him cursed and scratched and blew smoke in each other’s faces. He missed his private cell. What he needed to do next would be far easier with his personal laptop and cell phone.