A California Christmas

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A California Christmas Page 19

by Brenda Novak


  “He...”

  “He what?” she challenged when he didn’t finish.

  He squinted at her before shifting his gaze to his feet. “He should be able to decide for himself.”

  She couldn’t help remembering Cal pointing out the same thing only an hour or so earlier. Damn it. She knew they were both right and hated that she couldn’t simply step in and force Robert to go away for good. Was she out of line for even wanting to? Could he hold the key to putting Dallas’s heart and mind to rest, bring him closure and a worthy explanation at last?

  She doubted it, which was why she was struggling with this. “I can’t believe he’d ever agree to see you, but you’re right, it’s not my decision. I am, however, going to ask you for a favor.”

  “A favor?” he responded, looking up.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  He wiped away the water dripping into his eyes from what was left of his hair. “What do I need to do?”

  “Leave town. I’m getting married on Saturday, and I don’t want you to ruin it. Then there’s Christmas. Don’t bother us until it’s all over.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t plan to ruin anything. I just want to see Dallas.”

  “You’ve made that clear. But you’ve waited this long. Why does it have to be right away?”

  “It doesn’t. It’s just that—” he cleared his throat “—I don’t plan to settle here. There’s no work for...for someone like me. And since I don’t own a car, it’s hard for me to get around if there isn’t a bus or some other form of public transit. If I leave, I’m afraid I won’t have the means to come back.”

  She wished he wouldn’t. “I’ll give you the money. All you have to do is disappear for a few weeks so that Dallas isn’t faced with your release right now.”

  He studied her suspiciously. “I wouldn’t want him to think I sold out. That...that the money meant more to me...”

  “Oh for God’s sake!” she snapped. “You killed his mother and his sister! Do you think taking some money from me is going to be a big deal?”

  As soon as she put it that way, he shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head. “I guess not.”

  She attempted to calm down. She dealt with difficult situations all the time, wasn’t normally so easily rattled. She told herself it was because this situation was particularly close to her heart. But it was more than that. She wanted to hate Robert as much as she hated what he did, and he was making that hard for her. He looked and acted too contrite to evoke the same level of anger she’d felt before.

  Why, oh why, couldn’t people be easily categorized? Labeled “good” or “bad” and that was that? Instead, the lines constantly blurred, making life so complicated. It upset her that she could feel any empathy for Robert Ogilvie. Was he merely pretending to be humble and sincere? Was he playing her?

  Possibly. She had to remember how little compassion he’d had when he committed those murders. “Thank you.”

  He studied her for a moment. Then he said, “How much are we, um, talking?”

  She went with the figure she’d decided upon while driving over. “A thousand dollars.”

  His eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I don’t think I’ll need that much. A few hundred should be enough.”

  Except he was starting with almost nothing. Prisoners only received a small amount of “gate money” when they were released, and he’d probably spent most of that just buying some street clothes, coming to Silver Springs and renting a motel. And she wanted to rest assured that he’d stay away until January, didn’t want to worry that he’d get desperate and come knocking on her door right as she was attempting to enjoy her wedding.

  “Times have changed. It takes more to get by these days than it did when you were on the outside.” She reached into her purse for her wallet, planning to give him all the cash she had on hand, and the difference in a check, when he stepped away, shaking his head.

  “Actually, no. That’s okay. I don’t want to take any money. I’m hoping to get a job soon. I’ll just...try to get by until I might be able to see him.”

  “But you have to leave town. You understand that, right? You have to go to LA or somewhere else,” she reiterated.

  “I understand. I was planning to go to LA, anyway—after I saw Dallas. I figure it might be easier to find work there.”

  She didn’t think it would be easy for a sixty-three-year-old ex-con to find work anywhere, especially if a potential boss were to Google his name. He’d not only committed murder, he’d killed his own wife and one of his two children. Besides, what was he trained to do? He’d once worked in finance, but she doubted anyone with a felony record could go back to handling big money transactions. He would probably be better off in prison, and she had a feeling he understood that. “I’d rather have the peace of mind of knowing you’ll be able to keep your word,” she said. “It’ll take at least this much to get to the city and rent a room. Even if you find a job in that amount of time, it’ll be a week or more before you get paid.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  She got the money out but didn’t give it to him right away. First, she had to clarify a few things. “Have you told anyone in town who you are? That you’re related to Dallas? That you’re just out of prison? Anything like that?”

  “No. The only person I’ve spoken to—at least enough to even mention my name—is the fellow over at the school, when I went there looking for you. I didn’t even know Dallas was in town until then. The PO Box you gave me is in Vegas.”

  “You must’ve given the motel clerk your ID.”

  “I did, but he didn’t seem to look twice at it.”

  After so long, she couldn’t imagine his name would be enough to spark recognition, especially if the clerk he was dealing with was young enough.

  “That’s good to know.” She handed him the money and quickly wrote a check for the difference. She guessed he didn’t have a bank account yet, but he could get one in LA.

  “Thank you.” He seemed ashamed to accept her help, but she hadn’t done it for him.

  “You’re welcome,” she said stiffly and, as she watched him walk away, wondered if he was sincere when he said he wasn’t interested in money. Even if it was true that he just wanted to apologize, he had to be hoping for Dallas’s forgiveness. And she didn’t think Dallas could ever give him that, not after enduring the tragic loss of his mother and sister and being cast adrift at such a young age, at the mercy of the state until he was adopted.

  She didn’t think it was fair of Robert to even ask.

  17

  Cain arrived on time. He was wearing designer jeans with a burgundy V-neck sweater that couldn’t quite hide the thickening of his middle, smelled strongly of cologne and smiled a little too broadly when he saw her—and Emery immediately regretted agreeing to meet him. He’d presented dinner so casually when he bought the cookies. A bite to eat. A chance to catch up as old friends. She hadn’t expected it to be a date. She’d driven to the restaurant herself; in her mind, that was a clear indication. But she could tell by the way he was dressed, and the way he put a hand at the small of her back as they approached the hostess, that he had a different take on the evening. Apparently, what he’d said and done before was merely intended to get her to lower her defenses enough to have dinner with him.

  She wasn’t capable of going out with anyone right now, she thought in a moment of panic. She shouldn’t have come.

  But then she remembered having sex with Dallas, on two different occasions, and told herself if she could do that, she had to be capable of having dinner.

  “I was so surprised when I saw you in the cookie store,” he said after they’d been seated.

  “Same here.” It hadn’t only been a surprise when he walked in—it had been a bit of a nightmare, since she’d been afraid of running into someone she k
new. People who were familiar with her from before would naturally be interested in the salacious scandal she was currently navigating, and she didn’t care to resurrect old relationships at the moment. She just wanted to hide out, heal and regroup.

  “So how long will you be staying in Silver Springs?”

  She’d already answered that question at the cookie store, but he was making small talk, trying to ease into the dinner, so she pretended as though this was the first time she’d heard it. “Just until after Christmas.”

  “Do you know which day you’ll be going back?”

  “That’s a bit loose right now.” The day she had to leave the refuge she’d found wouldn’t be easy. She felt safe at Aiyana’s and at risk almost anywhere else. But she was hoping to be up to the challenge by then. She couldn’t stay with Aiyana forever.

  Fortunately, the waitress brought their waters and offered a wine list, which distracted Cain. Emery was afraid the conversation had been drifting toward where she was currently staying—he hadn’t asked that yet—which would inevitably lead to why she would be living with Aiyana in the first place. Did he know about the video? If not, she wasn’t going to tell him. If he could misrepresent what this evening was meant to be, she could certainly neglect to mention what Ethan had done.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked.

  She smiled. Having a drink might help her get through the evening. “Sure.”

  She selected a white zinfandel, he a glass of rosé. “It’s nice of you to help out at the cookie store while you’re here,” he said as the waitress went to get their drinks. “My mother says the owner is having health problems.”

  “She is. But how does your mother know? Is she a friend of Susan’s?”

  “Not really, but they know each other. My mom’s still really involved in the Chamber of Commerce,” he added by way of explanation.

  Emery hadn’t known his mother had ever been involved with the Chamber. She hadn’t paid much attention to that sort of thing when she was in high school, hadn’t known Cain that well. They’d shared a few classes but that was it. She remembered him as a shy, awkward boy, but he seemed to be more outgoing as an adult.

  “What are you doing for work these days?” she asked, trying to guide the conversation to topics she deemed safe. She knew from the conversation they’d had at the cookie store that he lived in the Bay Area, but that was all.

  “I dive into water tanks,” he replied.

  The ice clinked in her water glass as she set it down. “What for?”

  He chuckled. Apparently, he was used to getting such a reaction. “To vacuum up the sediment on the bottom.”

  “You’re talking about the public water supply...”

  “I am.”

  “You make a great case for using a filter at the tap.”

  “Don’t worry, someone sprays me down with an antimicrobial before I go in.”

  That hardly made her comfortable with the idea. There was just something off-putting about a guy in a wetsuit vacuuming up sand and other debris from the water people were meant to drink. “You must not be claustrophobic,” she commented.

  “I’m not. And it’s quite safe. The same person who sprays me down before I go in keeps an eye on my air supply when I’m in the water, so I have help if I need it.”

  “It’d be terrible if that person had a heart attack or fell asleep on the job,” she mused.

  He slid the candle in the center of the table over to one side so that it wouldn’t be directly between them. “It would. But it would be highly unlikely that the equipment would fail at the same time. So I guess I’m playing the odds.”

  “How’d you get into that?” she asked, feeling as though she might be able to salvage the next few hours, after all. She was genuinely curious about his line of work.

  “My ex-girlfriend’s father works for the City of Berkeley. He wanted us closer so that he could see his only grandchild—she has a little boy from a previous relationship—and he knew someone who knew someone who was looking for a diver. Since the job paid more than I was making, we moved, and I stayed on even after we broke up.”

  The waitress returned with their wine and asked for their order, so they took a moment to study the menu. Emery requested the tilapia with couscous, and he ordered a cowboy steak smothered in onions and mushrooms with scalloped potatoes.

  “What about you?” he asked after the waitress left.

  A knot formed in the pit of Emery’s stomach. “What about me?”

  “What are you going to do for a living? Will you try to get on at another TV station? I hope so. I’ve seen you deliver the news. You’re fantastic.”

  She caught her breath. He knew. He must’ve known all along, or he went home and told his family that he was meeting an old friend and they informed him as soon as they heard her name.

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem too shocked, and, as embarrassing as the whole thing was, she was slightly relieved that she wouldn’t have to dodge the issue for the rest of dinner. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m suing the station for wrongful firing, and I’m suing Ethan Grimes for posting that video, which I had no idea he’d even made. Until I can get through that, I’ll probably try to scrape by working some low-profile job like I’m doing at the cookie store. I don’t feel as though I can move forward until this thing is resolved.”

  “What a jerk,” he said.

  “I never dreamed that someone I was dating would do something so despicable.”

  “He comes across as a nice guy on TV, but I know you can’t always tell from someone’s public persona.”

  “Trust me, he’s his own biggest fan.” She took a sip of wine and braved a question she knew she probably shouldn’t ask but had to know. “How’d you hear about it?”

  “Word swept through town,” he said vaguely.

  “Let me guess—your mom told you.” He’d just indicated that his mother worked for the Chamber of Commerce, so she’d be privy to town gossip, and his mother was the one who’d told him about Susan.

  “Yes and no. I’ve sort of kept tabs on you since high school. My mother knew I’d be interested so, yes, she told me.”

  “You’ve kept tabs on me? From the Bay Area?”

  “Well, not like a stalker, but if your name ever comes up I pay attention to it. You were so popular in high school—I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

  She imagined all the people who had to be talking about that video and the wine began to sour in her stomach. “Have you seen it?”

  When he flushed, she had her answer.

  “Just a glimpse of it,” he said, trying to minimize his exposure, but she doubted that he was being strictly honest. Her gut told her he’d watched it all the way through—maybe more than once. And that was enough to make her, once again, regret coming to meet him.

  “I appreciate that you didn’t watch the whole thing, that you saved me that embarrassment,” she said to see how he’d respond and could tell he had indeed been lying. Instead of accepting her gratitude, he barely murmured a response and then acted overly preoccupied with the food the waitress was carrying to their table.

  Fortunately, however, he no longer seemed eager to talk about the video.

  “I’m sorry about what you’ve been through,” he said when the waitress left. “You deserve to be treated a lot better than you were.”

  Then why didn’t he treat her better when he had the choice? He could’ve chosen not to watch it.

  Or was she being too hard on him? Measuring everyone by Dallas’s reaction, which she’d found so comforting and supportive?

  He said something she’d missed, so she tuned in again. “Excuse me?”

  “I said it would be fun to go to a movie after this. Would you like to do that?”

  “Not tonight,” she said. “I’m pretty tired. And I can’t be o
ut too late, since I’m staying with someone. I wouldn’t want to wake up the whole household when I got home.”

  “Aiyana wouldn’t mind.”

  So he didn’t only know she’d been the victim of cyber-exploitation, he knew where she was staying? No wonder he hadn’t asked. “Maybe she wouldn’t mind, but her wedding’s Saturday, and I wouldn’t want to be the reason she isn’t able to get enough rest. Besides, she’s not the only one at the house.”

  His gaze met hers. “Dallas is there, right?”

  “Yes. So are Liam and Bentley,” she felt the need to point out.

  “But they’re younger. Dallas is our age.”

  “That’s true. Do you know him?”

  “I know of him. My mother says he’s a hothead, always looking for trouble. I’d be careful of him, if I were you.”

  Somehow she managed to swallow her food. “What makes you say Dallas is a hothead?” she asked, and then it dawned on her. “Oh, you’ve also heard about the fight at the Blue Suede Shoe.”

  “It’s a small town,” he said by way of explanation, but he knew so much about her she had to wonder if he’d truly been surprised to see her when he walked into the cookie store—as he’d stated—or if it had been orchestrated in advance. Was the fact that she was working there something else his mother had told him?

  “Yes, it is,” she said and did what she could to maintain the conversation from there, but midway through the meal, she needed a break and escaped into the bathroom. Cain had set her up. He knew all about her and her situation and was trying to date her. She supposed she should be flattered, but she was more irritated and upset than anything else. He’d lied about being surprised by their meeting at the cookie store, and she felt sure he’d lied about viewing that video of her with Ethan. He’d even lied about tonight being about old friends getting together to catch up. Maybe they were polite lies, innocuous lies, lies any person might tell in his particular situation, but they were still lies. He was using her situation to try to get her into a relationship with him, and that bothered her.

 

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