No, she was thinking of Frieda. Karen could almost envision the little old woman sitting across from her at this small table, grinning.
Take the dang earrings. You earned ’em.
On my back, is what it feels like, Karen thought in response.
Don’t be a fool. You see money down on the sidewalk, you pick it up, don’t you?
Karen went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and ran her fingers through her hair. She put on last night’s dress and lingered near the kitchen, considering. The earrings were hers to leave or take, depending on what story she told herself. Pride and ego warred with practicality.
When she allowed the penthouse door to click shut behind her, locking firmly, the jewelry box was still in the kitchen. Downstairs, she nodded at the doorman and walked slowly toward her truck, dressed like a party girl and feeling nauseated. Did Ted and the investors see her as a country bumpkin, come to town to be conned by the city slickers? Or as a desperate, washed-up professional, too long in the tooth for them to take her seriously? Was Ben in on this? He had steered her to them.
No. Whatever nastiness she’d stumbled into, Ben was her friend from California. He’d tried to help. It was she who’d failed. And as for the rest of them, it was just business. She needed to suck it up and stop whining.
At her hotel, she wandered through the hordes of hungover coffee seekers and took the elevator to her room. Inside, she showered for a long time, letting the cleansing spray of the hot water wash away yesterday. Then she put on her traveling clothes and checked out. Traffic was light as she drove through Savannah. The city was awakening slowly.
Savannah was beautiful, especially on a slow morning like this. She regretted that she hadn’t had a chance to see the city, and on impulse, she parked near one of the city’s iconic garden squares. This one occupied an entire block. In the center, a statue depicted a wartime general riding a battle-crazed stallion. The statue was surrounded by moss-laden oaks, dogwood, and azalea bushes.
She found a concrete bench and sat. The bucolic scene offered relief from the Greek chorus in her head, bemoaning her lack of brains, discipline, and strategy. In the distance, the sweet, aching notes of a solo violin reached her. Beautiful Savannah wore her gentility like a mask. She had surrendered to Union forces during the Civil War, a strategic decision to humble herself and thereby live to fight another day. Unlike other cities, Charleston for example, Savannah had escaped annihilation. Historic old homes and buildings still stood. Lives were saved, and businesses struggled on. The character of Savannah had been altered, but she survived and prospered. Today the city was a bustling waterfront, swarming with tourists and making money like crazy. Tough old broad that she was, Savannah had won in the end.
Karen felt her confidence seeping back, and the humiliation of last night subsided. It wasn’t how she was brought up, but still. Things had changed. Her life had changed. The old strategies didn’t work anymore, and she was ready to adapt—to learn. Times called for bold action, pride be damned. She would do what was necessary to thrive.
She returned to her truck and drove back to Ted’s building. The doorman smiled, recognizing her. “Good day, miss.”
Returning his greeting, Karen said, “I cannot believe how discombobulated I am this morning. I was in such a rush to get to church that I left my phone upstairs.”
“I understand. That surely can happen. Person be rushing, and all.”
She held out her hands, palms upturned. “Now it’s up there and I’m down here, locked out.”
“Yes, miss.”
She plowed forward. “Can you please assist me in retrieving it?”
“I can’t give you access, but I could call Mr. Natchez for you, though.”
“Oh, shoot, that won’t work. Ted’s on his way to Asia.” She screwed up her face in a pretty frown. “I desperately need my phone, and—well, maybe you could just let me in and stand by the door for the ten seconds it would take me to grab it? I know right where it is. It’s on the kitchen table.” She reached out and put her hand in his, as if to shake it.
He slipped the twenty-dollar bill into his pocket. “Well, we can’t have you goin’ through your day without a phone, now, can we?” They chatted companionably as the elevator rose to the top floor. The doorman waited in the foyer while she sashayed into the kitchen and retrieved the velvet box, which she slipped into her pocket. Then she ripped the check and contract in half and dropped them on the table. Brandishing her phone, she returned to the doorman.
“Here it is. What a relief. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome, miss. Come back to Savannah soon.”
Only when I can hold my head up again, Karen thought.
CHAPTER 15
CURT AWOKE BEFORE DAWN, his back hurting. He needed to get vertical PDQ, but first he had to lie there and look at her. There she was, in his bed, Madison Hesse, twenty-two years old and glorious. For just a moment, everything fell away in the giddiness of conquest—the cultural realities, the fact of their age difference, the expectation that they’d have nothing in common, nothing to talk about, nothing to say. Or worse, that he’d be unable to perform to her expectations. In fact, with his experience and know-how, he’d dazzled her. He grinned at her sleeping form. They’d talked and laughed and made crazy jungle love until a couple hours ago, and now here she was.
Madison Hesse.
In the kitchen, the automatic coffeemaker finished with a pneumatic wheeze. Curt turned over carefully and moved into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Rolled his head around on his neck and listened to the crackling. After last night, he should feel like he got run over by his own tractor, but instead he felt like Superman. He tensed his legs and arms, ready to stand up without waking Maddie.
She rolled over. “Hey, lover boy.”
He gazed at the stunning, earthy creature in his bed, with her dark hair, blue eyes, and sleep-puffed lips, and damn if he didn’t get hard all over again.
“I was dreaming just now about all the things you could do for me.” Her voice was gravelly from sleep, and her lips turned up in a wicked smile. “Unless you’re too tired?”
Well, a man had to stand up for his rep.
Afterward, Madison fell back asleep and he went downstairs. Got a cup of coffee and the newspaper off the porch and headed out to the barn with a major spring in his step. Who said a May-December thing couldn’t work? He’d always dated in his own age group, but now he wondered why. Maddie was perfect for him. It was like they were the same age. They were in tune on so many things—politics, geology, sex. Especially the sex! He couldn’t believe her appetites. Jesus, she was an animal. He hoped she’d stick around for a while.
What the hell, maybe he’d even invite her to Spain.
Tucking the paper under one arm, he hauled the sliding door open and stepped inside. Feeding and stall-mucking had been Erin’s responsibility while she was home during winter break, but she’d spent last night at a girlfriend’s, partying. So it fell to him.
The dusty aroma of hay stung his nostrils, along with the warm fragrance of leather and livestock. Sleepy hens eyed him from their roosts, and Duke nickered in greeting. “Hey, boy.” Curt scratched him around the ears. “Happy New Year.” The horse blew a raspberry, and Curt said, “Let me get my caffeine fix. Then I’ll feed you.”
He went to sit down on a hay bale, slipped the rubber band off the newspaper, and began separating the readable sections from the ads. He was as tech savvy as his students, but he still liked to read an actual newspaper every morning. He set aside World and Local and was just getting to Entertainment when the photograph on the front of the section stopped him. He set his coffee down and squinted closer.
Yep, it was her. Karen, in a lip-lock with some guy whose face he couldn’t see, but there they were in the paper, so it must be somebody big. He read the caption.
LOCAL WOMAN PARTIES WITH INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOY.
Curt looked up at the ceiling and t
hen down at the photo. Took another sip, thought about Karen and that bastard Natchez, and then scowled at his self-righteousness. He folded the paper and set it on the bale, next to his coffee cup, grabbed a shovel and rake, and got to work cleaning up after the horses, his brain sifting through the realities.
It made sense. Karen was trying things, exploring the possibilities now that she was free and on her own again. That she would attract a man like Natchez didn’t surprise Curt at all. Pissed him off, but didn’t surprise him.
Well, he had no room to talk. Madison was still upstairs, sleeping off their New Year’s Eve celebration.
Church bells pealed across the frozen countryside, announcing a brand-new year. He threw another forkful of shit into the wheelbarrow. His coffee grew cold.
The horses wandered out to the corral, kicking up their heels and nipping at each other. He refilled the water buckets and made sure they had plenty of feed. They were hardy, but the sky was clouding over, and they’d be back in soon. Curt worked fast, trying to put the photo out of his mind. It wasn’t fair to begrudge Karen her fun. He’d had his own.
He tried to focus on the sexy young woman who slumbered upstairs, but the thought didn’t make him feel any better.
He heard Erin drive up and stopped working, surprised. She was a day early getting back from the friend’s house in Bismarck. Curt hung up the rake and hurried to head her off.
“Hey, Dad.” Erin shot her chin at the Jeep in the driveway. “Whose car is that?”
“A friend.” He reached inside her car and honked the horn twice.
“Why’d you do that?”
“We weren’t expecting company. Did you have a nice New Year’s?”
“I’m not company. And who is ‘we’?”
“Sweetheart, before you go inside, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Is Karen here? Hallelujah!”
“Wait.” He tried to block her, but she slipped around him and had the front door open before he could explain.
Madison was digging around in the refrigerator when the kitchen door opened. “Babe, where’s the eggs?” She turned, saw Erin, and straightened up, clutching Curt’s robe tighter across her voluminous breasts. The two women stared at each other for a full minute. Finally Madison cleared her throat. “Good morning.”
“Holy shit, Dad.” Erin turned to Curt. “Are you guys, like, the two of you—I mean, holy crap.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what? Did you and Karen break up?”
Maddie frowned. “Who’s Karen?”
“And now you’re dating somebody my age? Jesus, how gross.” Erin spun on her heel and vaulted up the stairs. Her door slammed, rattling the windows.
“Erin, Madison. Madison, my daughter, Erin.” Curt dropped into a chair.
Madison grinned. “Daddy’s robbing the cradle,” she teased.
“That’s not funny.”
“She’ll get over it.” Madison leaned down and kissed him, letting her robe fall open. Reaching down, she took his hands and applied them to her breasts, like ripe fruit, warm, the dark areolas right in his face. He let go and pulled her robe shut. She turned and tried to plant her ass on his lap, but he gently moved her aside. As much as her body had inflamed him last night, the feeling had evaporated.
“I need a little time to let Erin adjust.”
“She’s being a baby. I wouldn’t coddle her.”
“I never have.” He turned on the kitchen faucet and began to wash his hands. “She’s a good girl, Maddie.”
“Well of course. I mean, she’s your daughter. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Madison wrapped her arms around him from behind and lay her cheek against his back. “I’m sorry.”
He rinsed his hands, wondering how he was going to manage the day with both Maddie and his daughter in the same house.
Madison handed him the towel. “So what do you want to do today?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“There’s lots of football on today. We could go to the pub.”
“We could.” He said it without enthusiasm.
She made a face. “Or how about we go to the lake and have a picnic.”
“It’s pretty cold.”
“God, you’re such an old man.”
That stung. “How about lunch and a movie?”
She pulled him to her and laid a fat kiss on his mug. When they broke apart, she leaned back, smiling. “Lunch, a movie, dinner, and a nightcap in front of your fire.”
“Maddie.” He raised his eyes, indicating his sulking daughter somewhere on the second floor.
“Tell her you’ll be at my house tonight. Tell her it’s a sleepover.”
“Lunch, movie, the Holiday Inn, and dinner. How does that sound?”
“Boring.” Now he had two sulking young women on his hands.
“Okay, how about we go to the pub, have lunch, and watch the game?”
“Better.”
“Uh, and after the game, dinner at the Holiday Inn?”
“That place is so nothing.”
“This ain’t New York City, babe.”
“Okay. But only if you agree to take me to the motocross championship in Fargo next weekend.”
“Yes to motocross, no to the tractor pull the weekend after that.”
“Cool, I’ll go shower and dress.”
As she scampered up the stairs to his room, he hoped Erin would stay in hers and not notice. Then he winced as Maddie’s music kicked on, rattling the windows with a deep, vibrating bass. A door flew open, and Erin appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Really, Dad?”
“What?” He feigned innocence as the lyrics, if you could call them that, reverberated through the house. Something about boss, ass, and bitch?
The door slammed again.
Curt started up the stairs and then, remembering, pulled on his jacket and went back out to the barn. The newspaper article was still there, sitting on the hay bale where he’d been reading when Erin drove up. And Karen’s picture was still there, too, with that jerk Natchez, his hands all over her. Curt wadded up the newspaper and shot it across the barn.
CHAPTER 16
“HOLD STILL, LITTLE Squirmy,” Jessie whispered, trying to sound as if everything was normal for her precious daughter. She managed to pull the baby’s white tights up over her diaper, while at the same time pulling down the skirt of the black velvet dress. She finished off Sunshine’s new look—courtesy of the church thrift store—with a white headband around her nearly bald head, a tiny rhinestone flower at the top.
Jessie had read of women who stayed, who put their children at risk, who suffered injury and even death at the hands of men. She’d always wondered why. Now she had an idea. Maybe they were scared to leave. Maybe they didn’t have any money or a car or a friend who would drive them. Maybe after being hurt again and again, they couldn’t think clearly enough to develop an escape plan and follow through. Maybe they were too scared to function.
Jessie held the baby in a standing position, inspecting her outfit. Such a precious little munchkin, and now in such danger. Or was she? Was that one extreme event, never to be repeated? How would a person know in advance how to decide, not staying too long or leaving too soon?
She heard Lenny moving around in the kitchen. He wasn’t making a lot of noise, like throwing or banging anything. Maybe he was sorry, and it would never happen again.
Jessie’s eyes stung as she kissed the baby’s forehead, button nose, and cherry cheeks. Sunshine grinned, two bottom teeth shining through perfect pink gums, her innocence breaking her mother’s heart.
“They’re going to love you,” Jessie said. When one of the thrift-store workers had invited her to attend Bountiful Baptist, Jessie had been drawn by the woman’s kindness and by a longing for community. Besides, the church was right down the road. She’d passed it many times, wondering what it might feel like to belong to a congregation. Her mother—she had to stop call
ing her that—Sandy thought the value of church to be limited. But living out here in the country, a person got lonely, and Jessie hoped there would be kids for Sunshine to grow up with.
Now, that rosy picture was in doubt. Jessie still couldn’t believe it had happened. She’d barely slept last night, she was so scared. Only the fact that the dog would sound the alarm kept her from sneaking away in the darkness, Sunshine bundled in her arms.
Jessie carried the baby into the bathroom and with her free hand dabbed a last bit of extra concealer to her face. She wore her hair long this morning, hoping it would hide the evidence. As she closed the concealer, her hand shook. She didn’t trust her own judgment at the moment. She felt rattled and skittish, and Sunshine was fussing, no doubt picking up on the fact that she was upset. Church would be a relief, a calming influence where she could organize her thoughts.
Jessie fought back tears as she remembered Lenny’s aggression. Surely this was an aberration. He’d always treated her decently, and she expected him to show remorse this morning.
They could maybe go to counseling. If not together, she would go alone. Did she feel strongly enough that counseling would be a condition of her staying with him? Lenny needed help. She could be quietly supportive as he worked to get to the bottom of this new thing, this rage he was feeling. She didn’t understand it, but she was sure that, with the right guidance, they could untangle the cause, find a solution, and make it work. Jessie leaned in for one last look, pulling her hair forward.
With the baby on one arm and the diaper bag on the other, she opened the bedroom door and walked softly down the hall to the living room. Lenny sat in front of the TV, already drinking beer although it wasn’t even ten o’clock—a bad sign.
Jessie put the baby down and slipped into her jacket. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He didn’t answer. “Lenny?”
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