Evening Stars

by Susan Mallery

  “That would be great,” she said instead. “Thanks, Ellen.”

  “You know, Nina, you’ve got to stop letting your mama hire people for that store.”

  Nina tightened her grip on the phone. “Yes, I know.”

  * * *

  Nina stared at the items in the box. The candlesticks were silver and actually worth something. There were also several pieces of jewelry, a few with gems. The painting was a cheap reproduction and worth less than the frame, but still...

  Jerry nodded as she inventoried the haul. “I was thinking the same thing,” he told her. “How could a girl smart enough to know what to steal be dumb enough to come to me? Why didn’t she just drive over the bridge and head toward Seattle? Another forty minutes in the car and she could have had the cash and been on her way.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she admitted. “But I’m glad she was impatient. Was Sam Payton by?”

  “Yup. He took pictures. He said he needs to know what the candlesticks are worth.” Jerry, a chubby, balding man in his sixties, nodded knowingly. “If it’s over five grand, then Miss Tanya has committed a Class B felony. If she gets the maximum, it’s a ten year prison sentence with a twenty thousand dollar fine.”

  “You’re very knowledgeable about felonies and the law.”

  “In my business, it pays to know that sort of thing.”

  Nina picked up the box of items from the store. “I’m going to have to call Sam, aren’t I? He’s going to tell me I can’t sell these until the case against Tanya is settled, right?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jerry told her.

  Great. So the only items of value in the store were now going to be held hostage. She started for the door. “Thanks, Jerry.”

  “You’re welcome. Hire better people.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He buzzed the door so she could get out.

  Nina crossed the small parking lot and opened her trunk. As she walked around to the driver’s side, she felt the first drops of rain.

  Although the house was only a few blocks away, she was going to have to go by the store and put up a sign explaining it would be closed for the next few days. She should also see what else might have been stolen. This may not have been Tanya’s first attempt. Tomorrow she would talk to Sam and find out what charges were being brought against the former employee.

  Nina started her car and headed for the bay. Blackberry Preserves might not be classy, but it had a killer location, right across from the small beach. In the summer, there was lots of tourist traffic, which was what helped the business survive the slower winter months. But this time of year—

  Two things happened at once. The rain went from light to pounding, and her car engine died. Completely.

  Not sure what to do, Nina steered to the side of the road and pulled onto the shoulder before she lost all momentum. After putting the car in gear, she started it again, or tried to. The engine turned over, but wouldn’t catch. She checked the fuel, and her tank was just over half-full. What on earth?

  Beyond how to put in gas and where to take it for service, what she knew about cars and their systems could fill a shot glass and still leave room for the shot. She was stuck.

  She glanced down at her shirt. “You’ve failed me, Betty.”

  The cartoon didn’t answer.

  Nina got out her cell phone only to see she was in one of the dead spots on the island. Between the somewhat-isolated location and the hilly terrain, there were cell phone wastelands, with no signal to be had.

  So much for phoning a friend or Mike’s Auto Repair. Because while Mike would come get her and give her a lift home, he wasn’t psychic.

  She leaned her head back and tried to tell herself that a walk in cold rain wouldn’t kill her. She only needed to get to a part of the island with a signal. Later, when she got home, she would have that bath and glass of wine. But being rational didn’t take away her desire to scream or cry. Or just once want to hand this problem over to someone else. But there wasn’t anyone else, there was her.

  She couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been her. She’d been taking care of her mother since she’d been old enough to ask, “Mommy, are you okay?” She’d taken care of her baby sister and the family business, and now she was still doing it all. Worrying about the store, picking up crap stolen by employees her mother had hired and...

  She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to shake it. “Drive, you stupid car! Drive!”

  She stopped when her hands started to hurt, then separated her car key from the house keys on the chain and tucked the car key under the driver’s seat. Then she put her purse over her shoulder and stepped out into the rain. She was soaked in a matter of seconds.

  The good news was, if anyone she knew drove by, he or she would stop and give her a lift home. The bad news was, it was dinnertime on a very small island and the odds of rescue were slim.

  Nina started the long walk toward some kind of signal. With each step she told herself this was good. Forced exercise. Plus shivering burned calories. It wasn’t cold enough that she had to worry about hypothermia. But her clothes clung to her in a way that wasn’t flattering, and her pants were rubbing on her thighs. She was pretty sure she was going to get a rash. That would be attractive. Too bad she wasn’t a blogger, because this would make for a great blog. She could title it Nina Wentworth’s Very Bad Day.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nina had started working through the five stages of grief. She’d quickly moved from denial to anger and thought that might be a good place to stay. Her entire body was chilled except for the friction where her thighs rubbed together. She was shaking, dripping and more miserable than she’d ever been in her life. She checked her cell, but there still wasn’t a signal. At this rate, she would be home before she picked up reception.

  She heard a car coming up behind her and turned quickly. She didn’t care who it was—she would happily get in with a stranger, if necessary. Not that there were many on the island this time of year.

  She squinted against the rain, trying to figure out if she recognized the vehicle. It was blue and shiny. A new BMW, she thought, as the car slowed. No one she knew drove one of those. The driver pulled up next to her and rolled down the passenger window.

  “Hey, are you—” The man stared at her for a second. “Nina?”

  Although she’d been reaching for the door handle, now she pulled back. The unfairness of the situation made her want to raise her hands to the sky and ask what she could possibly have done to deserve this.

  “Nina?” he asked again. “You’re soaked. Get in. I’ll take you home.”

  But she couldn’t, she thought, staring into those green eyes, remembering how they’d softened when he’d promised he would love her forever. Only he hadn’t. Dylan Harrington instead had abandoned her and their forever love his third year of college. He’d left the island and never come back. Well, he’d visited his family occasionally. But he’d never bothered with her again. Not once. Worse, he’d said she was the reason he’d ended the relationship. Yet another person in her life who had been unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

  “Nina, get in. It’s freezing.”

  “I’d rather walk,” she said and turned away.

  Lifting her head proudly, ignoring the rain stinging her eyes and the burning of her chafed thighs, she proceeded to do just that.

  Chapter Two

  “NINA, GET IN the car.”

  She wanted to ignore him. Really she did. But his tone was insistent, and the Dylan she remembered had a way of taking matters into his own hands.

  She closed her eyes and wished him away. But the steady hum of the car creeping alongside proved that plan didn’t have much chance of working.

  “Do you know how ridiculous this is?” he asked loudly.

  Unfortunately, she did. She also knew that in the end she would get in the car because she couldn’t stand to be this wet and cold any longer
. But why did it have to be him? Why not some well-dressed, quiet serial killer? Other people got strangled, but not her. Nooooo. She got the ex-love of her life.

  “Fine,” she said, turning and walking over to the passenger side. The door opened smoothly, and she plopped her wet self on the leather seat.

  For a second she was engulfed in the scent of new-car smell and the warmth blasting from heating vents. Bliss, she thought, pushing her dripping hair out of her face. Then she turned and once again met Dylan’s green eyes.

  His expression was an uncomfortable combination of concern and amusement. Damn him, she thought. Whenever he had crossed her mind over the past decade, she’d envisioned their first meeting would be something she could plan for. That she would be perfectly dressed and answer questions with smooth but subtle one-liners that would leave him impressed by her wit and chagrined about letting her go. She hadn’t thought she would be dripping wet and fighting thigh-burn.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  To them? To her?

  “To your car,” he clarified when she didn’t speak.

  “I have no idea. It stopped running. I’ll call the garage when I get home.”

  “Then, let’s get you there.”

  He didn’t bother asking where she lived. No doubt his parents would have kept him informed on the small island’s permanent population. Had he asked he would have been informed that, yes, she was still living with her mother. Not that she couldn’t afford her own place. She could. It was just that when it came to her mother and taking care of the store and everything else that fell on her shoulders, somehow it had seemed easier to stay put.

  They drove in silence for about two minutes. She shifted uncomfortably, aware of her wetness on his pristine leather seats.

  “So, you’re back,” she murmured into the awkward silence. At least it was awkward on her part. She had no idea what he was thinking.

  “Uh-huh. I finished my fellowship a few weeks ago. Went to Europe for a vacation, then came here.”

  A European vacation? She thought about how she’d spent the past month—as she’d spent the past seven or eight years. Working, dealing with whatever disaster her mother created, checking on the store. She had friends she hung out with, and she’d recently joined a book club, but now that she thought about it, her life lacked any level of excitement.

  Not that she cared about impressing Dylan Harrington, she told herself. She didn’t.

  “You’re still going to join your dad’s practice?” she asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you might change your mind.”

  “Me, too.” He flashed her a smile. “But I didn’t want to break his heart.”

  Because Dylan’s dad had spent the past decade waiting to say, “My son, the doctor.” Once he could, it was something he repeated endlessly. He’d told everyone who would listen that Dylan would be joining his practice. She supposed most fathers wanted their sons to go into the family business. Doctor and Son, she thought, imagining the sign outside the front door.

  “You stopped working for him,” he said.

  She glanced at him, then away. “Yes.”

  Until last fall, she’d been one of Dr. Harrington’s nurses. Mostly because he was the only doctor in town and she’d hadn’t wanted to commute to the mainland. But with Dylan potentially returning, she’d wondered about job security. Fortunately, Andi had moved to town and decided to open her pediatric practice, giving Nina the perfect job.

  “Like working with kids?” he asked, obviously aware of where she’d landed.

  “Yes. There are enough families on the island to keep us busy, but not so many that we’re swamped. Andi’s great to work with.”

  “Did you leave because of me?” he asked, stopping at the corner and checking before making the turn.

  A blunt question she hadn’t expected. “I was excited about the opportunity with Andi,” she said, sidestepping the issue. In truth, she would have left regardless. There was no way she could spend day after day with Dylan. Talk about weird. He’d been her first boyfriend, her first time, her first broken heart. He was a good-looking guy, a doctor, and it was just a matter of time until he fell in love and got married. Not that she wanted him for herself, but she sure didn’t want anyone thinking she was hanging around, pining.

  She leaned back in the seat and sighed. Why hadn’t she planned better? This would be so much less awkward if she’d married some rich guy, preferably with a yacht. Or moved to Tibet to open an orphanage. Something remarkable and important. She could at least be studying to be a neurosurgeon. Instead, she was a nurse in a pediatrician’s office, and her romantic past had little to recommend it. She had been married once. For five days. Not exactly her proudest moment.

  She and Dylan were supposed to have been doctors together, she thought grimly. That’s what they had talked about. Going to medical school and opening a practice. She hadn’t decided on her specialty, and he’d thought he would go into emergency medicine.

  But then they’d broken up, and somehow finding the money to follow her dreams had become impossible. Between dealing with her mom and her baby sister, the store and everything else, she’d lost her way. Nursing school had been so much more practical. She’d only needed two years away at a four-year university. She couldn’t remember making the decision—somehow life had happened.

  Dylan pulled into the driveway of her house. Rain still pounded on the windshield, and she wasn’t looking forward to the dash into the house. Not with her scrubs clinging to every bulge and him watching. Just as unfortunate, she could see the general shabbiness of the house from where she sat. It hadn’t changed at all in the past ten years. It needed paint and a new roof. She’d had plans for both, but a plumbing disaster last October had pretty much sucked up her savings.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said, turning to him and offering a smile she hoped looked pleasant and confident. “Great timing. It would have been a long, ugly walk home. I’m sorry for dripping on your seats.”

  “They’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  Before she could respond, he was getting out of the driver’s side and walking around the car. What? He was coming with her?

  She quickly scrambled out and met him on the walkway. “I’m fine. You don’t need to come in. Seriously. Go on with what you were doing. You saved me from the long walk home. That should be enough for one day.”

  He gave her an easy smile and put his hand on the small of her back. “For someone soaking wet and cold, you’re sure arguing a lot.”

  Then they were moving toward the front door, and she was opening it. As she stepped inside, she kicked off her soggy shoes. Dylan moved past her. She tugged off her socks and dropped her purse on the tiles of the foyer before walking barefoot into the living room.

  She was aware of several things at once. First, there was a suspicious dampness in the stained ceiling in the corner. As she watched, a single drop fell onto the carpet below. Which meant her mother hadn’t called about the roof. Tim, their general handyman, was always timely about taking care of whatever crisis they had. So if the roof was still leaking, he hadn’t been told he was needed.

  Second, she realized she couldn’t remember the last time a man had walked into their house. Well, a man-man, not a service guy. Dylan looked tall and masculine. Very out of place in a room crowded with too much furniture and “treasures” from the store. Every corner, every shelf and all surfaces were littered with figurines, wooden or glass boxes, picture frames and vases that her mother couldn’t stand to sell. In Bonnie’s mind, some objects were meant to be shared with the world and others were meant to be saved for family.

  Last, and maybe most unsettling, was how having Dylan standing in the living room made her see just how scruffy everything had become.

  The sofa was old and worn, with permanent dents in the cushions where they sat night after night. Nicks and dings marred the coffee ta
ble. The lampshades had faded from cream to a dingy yellow.

  Nina stared at the room as if she’d never seen it before, shocked by how she’d ceased to see what was all around her. For a second, she had the realization that her hopes and dreams had suffered the same kind of neglect, becoming invisible due to inattention. Sadness swept through—the loss nearly painful enough to make her gasp.

  “I’ll wait while you get changed,” Dylan said, walking over to one of the chairs and sitting down, as if he planned to stay a while.

  She blinked at him. Why? Then she felt the damp chill of her clothes and water dripping down her back from her hair.

  “Sure,” she told him, then hurried toward the hall, feeling the burn of wet cotton rubbing against her skin.

  Ten minutes later she was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She’d done the best she could with her hair, towel drying it before combing it. She wasn’t going to take the time to blow-dry it. That would imply... She wasn’t sure what, but either way, she wasn’t going there. She shoved her feet into flats and went back to the living room.

  Dylan sat where she’d left him. He stood as she came into the room. “Better?”

  “Much.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “You didn’t have to stay.”

  “I thought we could catch up. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  Simple words that genuinely confounded her. The obvious question was why? Why would he want to catch up? They hadn’t seen each other in forever, and aside from living on the island, they had nothing in common. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

  If only he wasn’t so tall, she thought, gesturing to the kitchen. Back in high school, Dylan had been what her mother had called dreamy. Now he was successful, polite, employed and still good-looking. The green eyes and strong jaw, not to mention broad shoulders, probably ensured he had a flock of available women at the ready. She wondered why he hadn’t married one of them.

  She paused in the middle of the kitchen. No way she was going to bother feeling ashamed of the worn linoleum or ancient cabinets. There had been enough humiliation for one day.