by Various
Ryan rubbed his forehead. “You probably never got out of first gear. You have to…never mind.” He shot Liz a look. Help me out here.
Liz sat up straighter, if that was possible. “Mrs. O’Hare, please. Ryan hoped that my visits might keep you safe, since I’m one of the safest people he knows—”
“Just look at her.” He gestured toward Liz. “She’s like the opposite of wild.”
Liz looked thoughtful and, strangely, a little sad. “I suppose I am.” She smiled at Gran and said the perfect thing, “I know you don’t need a babysitter. I can see that. But how about a friend? As a teacher, I have the summer free. What if we just spent some time together as friends?”
Gran’s expression softened. “I’d like that. My best friend, Rita, died a few months back, and I’d love a friend I didn’t have to worry about keeling over at any moment.” She shook her head. “Damn depressing getting old, Liz. Don’t do it.”
“Then it’s settled,” Ryan said, relieved.
“Stop by tomorrow, Liz, we’ll go shopping.” She handed Liz her cell. “Put your number in my contacts.”
Liz did as she was told and took Gran’s number too. She stood. “I’m going to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for the tea.” She nodded at him and headed for the door.
He watched her go, her tight, heart-shaped ass swaying as she walked away.
“She’s changed, hasn’t she?” Gran asked after Liz stepped outside.
Reluctantly, he turned back. “Yeah. I’ve got work.”
He kissed her cheek and left, catching Liz sitting in her car, eyes closed, doing what looked like some kind of breathing exercise. He knocked on the driver’s side door.
~ ~ ~
Liz nearly jumped out of her skin to see Ryan peering in the car at her when she’d been working so hard to get herself back under control. Her nerves couldn’t take many more encounters with him. “Yes?” she asked with what she hoped sounded like a normal, calm voice. He was close enough for her to see the stubble along his strong jaw.
“Meditating?” He smiled, and it nearly took her breath away. It lit up his face, usually so serious. He looked so much like he had that summer, tousled caramel brown hair, sharp hazel eyes that didn’t miss a thing, long lashes, and cheekbones women would kill for. As a teenager, he’d been good looking, as a man, sin on a stick. A very well-muscled stick.
“No, I was just…trying to remember where I put my car keys.” She made a show of digging around in her purse.
“Did you try the ignition?”
They both looked at the ignition, where the keys dangled. Her cheeks burned.
“Found them!” She let out an embarrassingly high-pitched laugh and then coughed to cover it up.
One corner of his mouth hitched up in a ghost of a smile. “Aren’t you hot with that shirt buttoned all the way up?”
She resisted the urge to dab at the sweat forming on her upper lip. “I’m quite cool and comfortable. Well, I’d better be on my way.”
She waited for him to step back from the car. He didn’t. Annoyed, she turned from him and discreetly patted her face with a tissue.
“You were great with Gran, playing the friend angle,” he said. “I’ll still pay you, of course.”
She cooled considerably. He was her employer, for a job she very much needed. Now she was really annoyed. If he’d been courteous enough to tell his grandmother ahead of time about this job, she could have avoided seeing him entirely.
She spoke to his eyebrows. It was easier than meeting his eyes. “You know, you could’ve at least prepared her, then we wouldn’t have had to have this”—she fluttered her hands—“this awkward scene.”
His eyebrows went up. “I knew she wouldn’t blow up in front of you. I had to do it that way. You still want the job?”
She heaved a sigh and looked out the front window. “Yes. In a couple of months I’ll be raising a baby, and I really need the money.” She looked up at his silence, realizing suddenly that she had given Daisy’s secret away. He was looking at her flat stomach. “It’s more like a co-parenting situation,” she added.
He nodded. “I heard Daisy’s pregnant. So you’re the co-parent?”
She should have known news had gotten out in town. Daisy had never been a homebody. She’d gone out several times over the weekend to meet up with old friends from town. Her friends weren’t the quiet, stay-at-home type either.
Liz nodded. “She’s living with me, and we’re raising the baby together.”
He took a step back. “Okay.” He pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here’s my card. It has my work number. Let me give you my cell.”
She searched her purse for a pen. “How did you know my birthday?”
“Background check.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t any special interest in me. She found a pen. His card said simply Ryan O’Hare, Private Investigator. As she wrote his number on the back, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of investigating he did. Maybe he helped the police with murder investigations. She knew he’d once worked in the high-crime area of Norhaven. Maybe he stopped blackmailers in their tracks, or broke up drug rings or crime rings, whatever it was called. It seemed a dangerous line of work.
“Call me if anything crazy goes on with Gran,” he said, all business now. What a relief. “I’ll pay you every Friday.”
“Perfect, just drop it in the mail. I figure you have the address from the background check.” She pasted on a smile, trying to appear normal in light of the fact that he had possibly incriminating knowledge on her from the background check. She hoped her application for a marriage license with Craig wasn’t in the report. Or her long shopping record for organization systems from The Container Store. Or her many Internet searches for breeds of nonshedding dogs (she was waiting for the house with a yard before getting one). Or her long-time obsession with new cleaning products.
He gave a curt nod, turned, and headed down the sidewalk toward his house. She exhaled slowly and reminded herself very firmly, as she watched his broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist and very nice butt walk away, that even if The Humiliation had never happened, Ryan O’Hare would still not be in the running for her white picket fence fantasy of husband, kids, and nonshedding dog. Everyone in town knew he never got serious with anyone.
She put the air conditioner on full blast to cool off the permanent blush she’d felt since his arrival in Mrs. O’Hare’s living room. After easing out of the driveway, she drove five miles over the speed limit, eager to get home and dance in the living room (curtains closed) with her Pink playlist. Dancing had been her stress relief for years. Then she remembered Daisy was there and she couldn’t dance freely. She didn’t want to trouble her sister over her new job anyway.
When she unlocked the door to her apartment, her sister was sitting on the sofa, watching TV and munching on microwave popcorn. “How are you feeling, Daisy?”
Her sister picked up the remote and pressed pause on her show. “I told Mom and Dad about the baby, but they already knew.”
Liz nodded. “You know word spreads fast. And you do look—”
“What? Huge? I look like a whale!” she cried, dropping the bag of popcorn on the coffee table.
“No, no, you look beautiful.” She sat on the sofa with her sister and stroked her hair. I’ll clean up the spilled kernels in a minute. “What’d they say?”
“They were very supportive,” Daisy said flatly. “Mom promised to babysit, and they said I could have my old room back.”
A pang of loss went through Liz. She wanted Daisy and the baby here so they could raise the baby together. She didn’t want to miss a single moment.
“I can’t go back there!” Daisy cried. “You should have seen their faces. They had this disappointed-but-ready-to-deal-with-it expression like they always have with me. They’ve probably been waiting for this to happen since high school.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Liz said gently, thrilled she’d sti
ll have the baby with her.
Daisy turned off the TV and pushed off the sofa. “I’ve got a craving for grilled cheese. Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” Liz said, just to be nice.
“I’ll make us lunch.”
“Sounds good.” She headed toward her bedroom and stopped. “Wash some of those organic strawberries too. The vitamin C and antioxidants are really important for the baby. Oh, and some of that spinach salad. The vitamin C in the strawberries will help your body absorb the iron in the spinach.”
“Yes, Professor Pregnancy,” Daisy intoned.
“If you read those pregnancy books I got you, you’d know all this stuff.” She’d stacked them on Daisy’s nightstand. She should have at least read one by now.
Liz opened the door to her bedroom and locked it behind her. Forcing herself to ignore the mess—unmade bed, Daisy’s clothes on the floor and hanging on the treadmill, the empty glass on the nightstand—she grabbed her iPod and put the earbuds in place.
And danced like a wild woman.
~ ~ ~
Liz had just settled on the sofa with her pillow and blanket that night to watch some HGTV before bed when her cell rang. She picked it up. Ryan. Her heart started pounding for no good reason.
“Hello?”
“Oh…hey, Liz. I dialed by mistake when I pulled up your number to add to my contacts.”
Liz gripped the phone in silence.
“It’s Ryan.”
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll let you go.”
“Wait.”
She swallowed hard. Did he find out something hideously embarrassing in the background check? I can explain. I just like things neat. And the Craig thing is best left unspoken.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I should warn you…”
Omigod, he found my neurotic cleaning tendencies out! Or is this about The Humiliation? Gah! Why did I agree to work for him? She gripped the phone tighter.
He went on. “Gran hasn’t been her usual self since the accident. Like she’s been eating Snickers for breakfast, skipping her cholesterol pills, and…”
“And what?”
“She stole my Harley and took it for a ride.”
“Oh, that. She told me about it.” She relaxed a little, feeling more on solid ground here.
“She did?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure she stays safe and makes good choices from now on.”
“Thanks. Don’t be afraid to call if something happens.”
She sat up straighter. “I’m not afraid to call you. Why would I be afraid to call you?” He does know something. I knew it.
“Uh, no reason. Good luck tomorrow.”
Calm down, she told herself. The only reason he rattled her was The Humiliation, which, so far, he seemed to have no memory of.
“We’ll be fine,” she said confidently. That much she knew for sure.
“All right then. Bye.”
“Bye.” She hung up and bolted to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. She held the frosty glass against her forehead. How could the man get her worked up over the phone? It was ridiculous. She closed her eyes and did some deep breathing until she found her usual calm composure once more.
~ ~ ~
Liz drove to Mrs. O’Hare’s house shortly before nine a.m. the next day as per the older woman’s text. She seemed to be very tech savvy. She’d already sent Liz a friend request on Facebook last night. Her Facebook page had a lot of pictures of her knitting projects—sweaters, shawls, hats, scarves, mittens, blankets. Her grandsons were well kept in wool from the look of things. Maybe Mrs. O’Hare could teach her how to knit and they could spend some time this summer knitting together.
When she pulled into the driveway, Mrs. O’Hare was already standing on the porch, dressed all in black—black T-shirt, black shorts, black socks pulled up to her knees. A pink scarf tied around her neck and white sneakers stood in stark contrast.
“Right on time,” Mrs. O’Hare called, making her way down the front steps. She got into Liz’s car. “Good morning!”
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Hare, cute outfit. Where are we heading?” She’d mentioned something in her text about some “serious shopping,” so Liz figured it was either the mall or the outlet center about a half hour away.
“Please call me Maggie. We are friends now, right? No need to be so formal. Head over to Eastman.”
Must be the mall. “You got it.”
“How’s your family?” Mrs. O’Hare asked.
“My parents are good; business is good at Garner’s.”
“And I heard you’re going to be an aunt! Congratulations!”
Word is definitely out. Guess I don’t have to keep it secret anymore.
“Thank you. How’d you hear about it?”
“My friend told me after church on Sunday. Babies are a lot of work, but, oh, what a blessing.”
Liz pulled up to a red light. “Well, yeah, but don’t they sleep a lot?”
“It depends what kind you ordered. I ordered a sleeper, but I got a colicky, up-all-night brand. Can’t return ’em though.” Maggie laughed.
Liz smiled. “My mom always said Daisy and I were easy babies, so hopefully this baby will be too.”
Maggie patted her arm. “You keep thinking that, dear.”
They chatted amiably as Liz drove, about babies and some of the cute hats Maggie had knitted for friends’ babies over the years: strawberry hats, pumpkins, watermelons. Liz told her about the baby registry she was setting up for Daisy, and the importance of buying items that were BPA- and phthalate-free because babies put everything in their mouths. She’d already read two books on babies, and it felt good to share her new knowledge with someone. Daisy never wanted to hear it.
Before she knew it, they were at the mall.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asked.
“Parking.”
“No, I didn’t say go to the mall. Turn around. We have to go further up on the highway over by the car dealers.”
Liz pulled out of the parking lot and turned around to the exit. “So we’re car shopping?”
“Even better. There’s a Harley dealer right next to the Honda dealer. You’ll see the signs.”
No! “O-kay. That’s a surprise.”
“Why? I told you yesterday I wanted a pink Harley.”
“Yes, but I didn’t suppose I was the one taking you. Do you think…” She stopped herself. She was thinking they should check in with Ryan first, but she didn’t want to make Maggie angry. “Do you think you’ll just be looking, or do you intend to buy today?” Liz asked smoothly. “With big purchases, it’s usually wise to shop around.”
She pulled onto the highway. Maybe she could convince Maggie to sit on a couple of bikes and then go home, where Ryan could talk her out of buying one.
“Oh, I’m buying,” Maggie said. “I don’t have time for lookie-loos.” She pulled a check out of her purse with a flourish. “I’ve got my insurance money. I’m just gonna leave that messed-up Toyota at the body shop. Maybe they can use it for parts.”
Liz swallowed hard. “But aren’t they fixing it?”
“I called and told them not to.”
No, no, no!
Chapter Five
By the time Liz parked at the Harley dealer, she still hadn’t figured a way out of this. It couldn’t be good for a woman in her seventies to ride a motorcycle. It was dangerous, plain and simple.
A semi-threatening-looking salesman built like a linebacker, with a shiny bald head and grizzly gray mustache and soul patch, approached. Liz grabbed Maggie’s hand. “I don’t know about this.”
Maggie squeezed her hand. “It’s fine. I’ll do all the talking.”
“Hello, ladies, what can I help you with today?” His short-sleeve Harley Davidson shirt said his name was Mike.
“I’m looking to buy a hog,” Maggie said. “Can you show us your best bikes?”
“Right this way.” He gestured for them to
follow. An eagle with the Harley Davidson logo was tattooed on the back of his beefy neck.
Liz whispered fiercely, “Motorcycles are not as safe as cars. Your body is completely exposed.”
Maggie patted her arm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll wear a helmet.”
“But that’s not the…” She trailed off as Maggie hurried ahead to a pair of red and green metallic chrome bikes “…point,” she said to no one.
Maggie climbed on top of the red bike and handed Liz her cell. “Here, take my picture.”
Liz stood in front of the bike and snapped a picture of Maggie grinning widely, then took one from the side of Maggie gripping the handlebars.
“Let’s get one on the green bike now,” Maggie said.
Liz took a few more pictures. Same pose, different color bike.
“I’ll post it on Facebook later,” Maggie said. “Boy, will my friends be surprised.”
As will Ryan. She’d lose her job if Maggie left here on a motorcycle. She had to find a way to stop this disaster. But Maggie was like a rock rolling merrily downhill, picking up speed and strength, heading for an inevitable crash.
They moved on to an oversized monstrosity of black leather and chrome that looked like it’d kill her if it tipped over on her.
“What about this one?” Maggie asked.
“That’s Fat Bob,” Mike said, rubbing his soul patch. “Lot of power in Fat Bob, not sure if a rookie can handle it.”
This didn’t sway Maggie a bit. “Help me get on Bob.”
Mike boosted Maggie up to straddle the seat. Maggie posed while Liz dutifully took the photo.
Maggie patted the bike. “You’re not fat, you just got a little meat on your bones. Mike, how fast can we go on this chubby hog?”
Liz grimaced and glanced around. Thank goodness we’re the only ones in the showroom.
“How fast you wanna go?” Mike asked with a grin. “Let me tell you something about Fat Bob. You’ve got the Twin Cam one-oh-three engine, six-speed cruise drive. An experienced driver can have a lot of fun cruising with this chopper on the open road. You planning on taking any long road trips?”