Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  Mel had done enough hiking to know what he needed, but that didn’t stop her from trying to persuade Willy to add a few extras as they walked through the store. He agreed to the energy bars and mosquito repellant, passed on the small first aid kits and postcards. Then they reached the toiletries.

  “I don’t want to see them.” He turned crimson when she insisted on opening a cute plastic case to show him the three tampons inside.

  “They don’t bite. You need to have a few available for your female hikers. They can’t slip a quarter in a machine half way up Mt. Si. And you can’t toss a single tampon in the bottom of your pack or the wrapper comes off. Backpacks aren’t exactly sanitary.”

  He groaned. “No one’s ever asked for one.”

  “That’s because you’re the hunky travel guide.” She grinned. “It’s a fact. A woman will not ask a guy she wants to impress for a tampon.”

  “Do you have to say the actual word?” He wouldn’t look at her.

  “I can set it up so you don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to look at them, and your women hikers will still love you. Give me a minute.” She found a simple, black and pink toiletry bag with a clear plastic ID pocket on the outside. She wrote “For Our Female Clients” on an index card and tucked it inside the pocket. She rang up the bag and three each of the tampon and maxi-pad cases while Willy refused to watch.

  “You can look now.” She added three single dose packets of ibuprofen and three of Tylenol.

  Willy made a strangled sound.

  “For cramps,” she said. “No one likes hiking with cramps.” She replaced the paper stuffing with the cases and painkillers, zipped it shut and clicked the subtotal key on Sara’s computer.

  “There you go. For less than forty dollars, you’ve just made your female clients happy. You don’t even need to open the bag. Just bring it in when you stop by, and we’ll restock what you need. Keep this next to your first aid kit. You’ll be a hero.”

  It wasn’t a GPS, but it was another sale. Willy bought the toiletry case along with the other basics. She had the added benefit of getting familiar with Sara’s merchandise. She learned that Willy’s clients gathered at the empty building Sara had mentioned, and he shuttled them to the trailhead. His visit gave her an idea that might bring more customers to Last Chance.

  Next, she helped a group of tourists, and a young couple who kept calling her ma’am and made her feel a hundred years old. She managed to smile and bluff her way through a few awkward moments. Then Roger Stone stood outside the big picture windows. She had promised Sara she would give everyone a genuine smile, and she would, even if the effort killed her. She looked at her smile in the mirror on the display of sunglasses. Nope. Not even close.

  Roger approached the door, hesitated, and walked past. She wasn’t reassured. What was he up to?

  She worried about him until a woman sauntered in, her makeup perfect, her designer pantsuit impeccable. Animosity filled the room like a bad smell, which could have been her perfume. She could not smile at this woman. Not even for Sara.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t our little thief. I heard you were back.” The overly sweet voice belonged to Jen Marsh, who’d hated Mel since third grade when she’d beat Jen in the school spelling bee. It probably didn’t help when Jen’s hair caught fire when they were chemistry partners at the end of their junior year, but that had been an accident. Mel had only meant to singe the ends.

  Jen’s spiked heels tapped an angry beat on the wood floor as she strutted to the counter. Unfortunately, her face wasn’t covered with zits and her streaky blonde hair hadn’t fallen out. So much for fantasies. She wasn’t the outdoor type, and Mel wondered what she wanted.

  Then the old grudge flared to life in Jen’s eyes. “Finally remembered where you stashed the loot?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “I understand the mentally challenged often get flashbacks, but it took you longer than I expected.”

  “I’m waiting for a moonless night to dig it up. Want to help?” Mel held back a laugh when Jen’s mouth dropped open.

  “That’s not funny.”

  Mel couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out. Jen’s hands clenched the edge of the counter, and her breath came out in little puffs. If only Mel had known how much Jen hated to be laughed at when they were kids, Mel might have saved her reputation. If Jen hadn’t held a grudge, hadn’t placed seeds of doubt and dramatized every burglary reported after Mel had been caught in Jordan’s room, Mel’s life might have been almost normal. Still, it wasn’t all Jen’s fault. Mel had been afraid to challenge her. Too many of the stories hit close to the truth, and she wasn’t prepared to battle the richest, most popular girl in school.

  “Get fired from your big city job?” Jen asked in a smug tone.

  “I’m setting up a branch office.” She ignored the suspicious look and grinned. “It’s a promotion. What are you doing here?”

  Jen cast a derogatory glance around the store. “I wanted to do some shopping. Bartholomew is in real estate. We live on Mercer Island, of course, but he’s looking at property south of town right now.” She rested her hands on the counter. “I didn’t see your name on the confirmed list for the reunion.”

  “The what?”

  “The high school reunion. I’m on the committee.”

  Mel had forgotten their ten-year high school reunion was in two weeks. The last thing she wanted to do was face their entire graduating class before she finished building the foundation for her new image. “Can’t make it. Prior commitment.”

  “It figures.” Jen lifted her hand to study her inch long, blood red fingernails.

  “What do you mean?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Damn. She should ignore the jabs, but she wanted payback. It was ridiculous. Immature. She was reverting back to her fifteen-year-old self. This had to stop.

  “No husband,” Jen paused and stared at Mel’s unadorned ring finger. Waving her own huge ring like a flag, Jen added, “Why would you go? It’d be embarrassing.”

  Mel smiled. “You obviously need an old sugar daddy, but I have something called pride.”

  Jen’s entire face snapped into angry little lines. “How dare you insult me or my husband. He’s rich, attractive, and once considered a career as a body builder. He wouldn’t even blink at pond scum like you. He’s all mine, and he’s a hundred—a million—times better than anyone you could ever get.”

  “Really?” She should stop herself, apologize, and get Jen to buy something expensive. She should be gracious, rise above the past and all that crap. Instead, Mel met Jen’s smugness with cold calculation. Now was the time to beat Jen at her own game. Immature perhaps, but oh, so satisfying. “Want to bet on that?”

  “Any day.”

  “Now.”

  “You’re joking.” Jen’s expression was a mix of disbelief and hope. When Mel shook her head, Jen smiled. “Give me the details.”

  “We need a scoring system.”

  “For what? You couldn’t find a decent date if you paid for one.”

  The image of Jordan, his face appearing as he lifted off his mask made her blood pound, but Mel couldn’t beg him to be her date, especially since this was about rebuilding her reputation. Besides, she didn’t need a boyfriend. She’d simply borrow one. Sebastian Lund looked like he’d just walked out of GQ, and he’d relocated to Seattle. He also owed her a favor. She’d been the project lead on a computer upgrade when he got promoted to finance. He ran a few year-end programs just for the hell of it and brought the entire system to a standstill. She’d been instrumental in restoring the data and saving his job.

  “I’ll go to the reunion, and we’ll settle it there.”

  Jen’s eyes went wide. “You can’t be serious.”

  “We’ll find an impartial judge, better yet, a panel of judges to determine who brings the hottest date.” She waited a beat, and grinned. “Unless you’re worried.”

  “Worried?” Jen’s voice hit an octave so high Mel glanced aro
und to see if anything shattered. “Not in your wildest dreams. It’s a bet.” Jen slammed her hand on the counter. “What’re the stakes?”

  She wanted to force Jen to make a public apology for slandering her reputation, but that would be too easy. “When you lose, you go on stage and hand over the prom crown you got our senior year.” Jen started sputtering, but Mel wasn’t finished. “Along with a public apology to Tara Jacobs for putting a laxative in her lunch so she’d miss the dance.”

  “I did no such thing—”

  “Of course you did.” Anna had overheard Jen bragging to one of her friends and told Mel. “She was supposed to be the prom queen. Now you can finally admit your crime and let your conscience rest.”

  She smiled as Jen’s neck—and only her neck—turned scarlet. God, her makeup was good. “Not afraid of a little bet are you?”

  When Jen stiffened, Mel added the final touch. “Looks like your nerve disappeared with your independence.”

  “You’re on, Quinn,” Jen snapped. “I’ll agree to your terms, if you agree to mine.” Her malicious little smile returned.

  “Which are?” Mel braced herself.

  “When you lose, you sing that Whitney Houston song you sang in the music room when you didn’t know the microphone was on. Remember? The entire band and drill team laughed so hard they cried.” Jen sneered. “You get on stage and sing it, from beginning to end. Then you leave Cedar Valley and never come back.”

  “Are you kidding? The song I can handle, but leave? Why? You don’t even live here.”

  “Nor do I want to. But you do.”

  “Forget it.” She turned away, but Jen wasn’t finished.

  “We’ve barely started, and you’re already admitting defeat.”

  Jen’s smug, condescending tone pushed Mel past all reason. “Bullshit. You’re on.” How could she lose? Sebastian would be her date if she had to hog-tie him and drag him there by his hair.

  “I want it in writing,” Jen stated. “When you don’t show, I can have it enlarged and posted on the wall. Your name will be mud.”

  “You won’t have the chance.” Mel ripped two sheets from the tablet next to the register and wrote the date and terms. After they both signed, she handed over a copy and smiled. Jen had no idea she’d be instrumental in defining Mel’s new image.

  Jen tucked the paper in her purse. She strutted to the door and smirked as she looked over her shoulder. “Start packing.”

  “Jen Marsh,” Mel said to the closed door, “you’re toast.”

  Chapter Seven

  A nagging feeling of unease dogged Jordan all day, though nothing out of the ordinary happened. For a town with a population of 9,000, three calls—a broken arm, a dumpster fire, and a woman with flu-like symptoms—were a typical day’s work. Still, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling, so he headed for the weight machines. From five o’clock on, the firefighters were on their own, as long as they were in the station or the rig, and ready for calls.

  Speculation over the warehouse fire was running high. Like the rest of his company, Jordan wondered when the investigation would be completed. A few weeks ago, he would have poured over each piece of data as it was released, searching his mind, the Internet, and all his resources to discover the cause.

  Now he couldn’t stop thinking of honey blonde hair, warm, toasted sugar eyes, and every curve on Melanie Quinn’s delectable body. She was driving him insane. Logic told him this lust was exaggerated because it’d been a while since he’d been with a woman, but he’d rather have this burning desire for someone else. Someone his brother wasn’t dead set against.

  Everyone loved Roger. Roger had been a Cedar Valley cop for the last seven years, he was known to be fair, open-minded, and his instincts were usually dead-on target. He’d been suspicious of Melanie since the day she tried to steal Jordan’s football jersey. They hadn’t talked of it much and not at all after she’d left town, but Jordan never knew his brother to be wrong. Not once.

  Mel was bad news, plain and simple. Besides, plenty of women hit on him. It wouldn’t take much to get one in the sack, but he didn’t want them. He wanted the one who made his testosterone pump and his body sizzle.

  He wanted Melanie Quinn so much he ached. Trying to focus, he gripped the handle, pulled, released, again and again, until thoughts of Melanie distracted him once more.

  ****

  “You’re still alive,” Anna said as she settled on a stool at Last Chance. She wore no makeup and the term Granola fit her casual beauty to perfection.

  Mel grinned as she cleaned the coffee machine. “I’m trying to figure out if this is the new gossip stop, or if people came in just to see me.”

  Anna laughed. “You’re big news.”

  “I figured as much when Devin Lancaster handed me a pink sports bra to ring up. When I told him blue was a better color for him, he just about keeled over in embarrassment. He tried to convince me it was a present for his sister.”

  “He doesn’t have a sister.”

  “I know, but he bought the bra anyway.” She chuckled and wiped the counter. “Jen Marsh stopped by.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows and Mel told her about the bet.

  “Are you crazy?” Anna asked in outrage.

  Mel leaned against the back counter. “First my car burned to a crisp. Jordan didn’t even recognize me, but Roger did. I know he’s waiting for me to do something wrong so he can pounce. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. Then Mick made a surprise appearance yesterday. Last I heard he was jail.” Anna knew Mel didn’t get along with her father, although Mel never been able to tell her friend why. “When Jen walked in like she owned the place, I lost it. Immature, I know, but seeing her lose her cool made it worth it. She’s not going to win, not this time.” Mel realized what she’d said and groaned. “Oh, God. I’m going through adolescence all over again.”

  “Better you than me,” Anna said with a sympathetic look. “Mick’s back?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to think about him. I need to concentrate on beating Jen. Nothing else can erase the damage she did before. And I want to stay.” If she didn’t win, if she left, nothing else would matter.

  “You’d really leave?” Anna’s distraught expression made Mel smile. Someone in Cedar Valley really did want her.

  “No, because I’ll win. I just have to get through the reunion and things will go back to normal.”

  Anna laughed. “What constitutes normal?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “Are you taking Jordan? He’s probably the only one who could out-rank the bitch’s husband. I swear she ordered him from a catalog of hunky, rich studs.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m taking Sebastian Lund, from Schuster. Remember, the guy who offered to marry me for saving his ass? He’s shallow, but he can make any woman drool. He’ll top Jen’s husband, and he’s available.” She’d called him after Jen left just to make sure.

  “I think you’d have better luck with Jordan.”

  Mel tossed the dishcloth in the sink and dried her hands. “Maybe, but he’d hardly agree to be my date.”

  “Ask him.”

  She let out a sarcastic snort. “Not going to happen.”

  “Sebastian better be hot, or I’m bringing earplugs.”

  “Don’t worry.” Mel reached for her purse. “What?”

  Anna studied her with narrowed eyes. “I love the way your hair swishes around your face when you walk. Kind of earthy.”

  “Earthy? Like dirt?”

  “No.” Anna laughed. “Like sunshine. Those highlights Julia talked you into make all the difference, but don’t tell her I said that. My apparent lack of femininity gives us something to fight about.”

  Julia was Anna’s cousin and had spent summers with Anna’s family until fifth grade. Julia’s parents traveled during the summer and rarely took their only daughter with them. Mel often thought it’d be a lonely way to grow up, but Julia insisted those summers were the best part of her l
ife. Now she lived in Bellevue, but her work often took her to Denver, and to Mel.

  “Speaking of Julia,” Anna said. “We’d better go. If we’re late for her birthday dinner she’ll never forgive us.”

  Mel locked the door while Anna stared at Alex’s car in horror. “I’m not riding in that piece of crap. I’ll meet you at the cabin and we can take the Jeep.”

  “Deal.” When they got to the cabin, Mel raced inside with the bag of makeup Sara had Carley pick up. She dumped the contents on the bathroom counter and stared at the bright pink blush, blood red lipstick, and glittery blue eye shadow. Sara had warned her, but she hadn’t really expected teenybopper makeup. Since it was all she had she dabbed it on and stuck her head out the bathroom door. “How do I look?”

  “Like you’re heading to Seattle’s First Avenue for a night job,” Anna deadpanned.

  Mel rolled her eyes and ducked into the bathroom to wipe her face clean. It wasn’t like anyone would notice her. Anna had her wholesome, casual charm, and while Julia was pretty on any occasion, when she fixed herself up she turned into a total knockout.

  ****

  “Engine 2, Engine 2, structure fire in progress. Flames visible.” The dispatcher’s voice rang through the station.

  A surge of adrenaline rocketed through Jordan. He put on his bunker gear while the dispatcher provided the address. Middleton grabbed the printout with the call details, and they jumped in the rig. Jordan counted six seconds until Tanner and Standish, who’d just returned from vacation, were sitting in back. He flipped on the siren and sped out of the station. When he reached Wax Road, he floored it. The engine picked up speed. Red and white lights flashed. The siren wailed. Middleton acknowledged the call.

  When a black Camry refused to yield, Jordan hit the air horn and swerved into the deserted oncoming lane. They raced toward the outskirts of town. A VW Bug backed out of a driveway in front of them. Jordan slammed hard on the brakes, skidded and managed to maneuver around the car with all the lumbering grace of an eighteen-wheeler. Swearing erupted from the back.

  “Give us a warning next time,” Standish yelled.