She shut off the burner and poured the boiling water into her cup. After doctoring it with two spoonfuls of sugar, she gave it a quick stir and then took a careful sip. The moment she did, her eyes closed, her mouth parted, and a long, low sigh whispered from deep in her throat.
She stood like that for several moments. Eventually she took another sip, and the whole eye closing, lips parting, long sighing was repeated.
Jesus H. Christ. It was like watching porn. Good porn.
“Sorry,” she said after awhile. “I’m not quite human until I’ve had caffeine.”
“That isn’t caffeine.” His voice was sharper than he’d intended, but the whole wallet search and X-rated tea show had set him on edge.
“Yes it is,” she said, taking another sip.
“Look, I didn’t come here to discuss your drink preference.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, her tone a one eighty from when she’d demanded to see his wallet. “I didn’t offer you anything to drink. Can I get you something?”
“If it’s tea, no thanks.”
Her smile looked forced. “I think I have a coffeepot around here somewhere. It won’t take me but a second.”
“Don’t bother. I won’t be sticking around that long.”
The top half of her disappeared into a lower cupboard. “I know it’s here somewhere.” There was a loud clanking, as if she’d knocked over a stack of pots and pans. “You really should try tea. Not only does it taste good, but a lot of varieties are also good for you.”
With a resigned sigh, he snagged the leg of one of the stools tucked under the kitchen peninsula with his boot and pulled it out. “I thought everyone from Seattle liked coffee.” He took a seat.
“Not me.” Clank. Clatter. “I think that was the problem with the coffee stand I used to own. Aha. Look what I found.” She reemerged, coffeepot in tow.
“Used to own?”
There was a moment of silence. “Yeah. I closed it.”
Something in her tone told him she wasn’t telling the complete truth.
She set the coffeepot down on the counter. “Right after my vintage clothing store closed,” she said before heading over to the sink for water. It took her a few more minutes to locate a filter and grounds (just how old were they?) but before long, the smell of freshly brewing coffee filled the kitchen.
How many businesses had she owned? He was about to ask when a picture on her refrigerator caught his attention. He looked closer and saw the big smile of a sandy-haired guy who looked like Mr. All-American.
Steven.
“I’m sorry, you know.”
She looked up at him, surprise evident in her sky blue eyes.
He didn’t wait for her to say anything, mad at himself for bringing it up in the first place but knowing there was no way he could leave without saying it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at Steven’s funeral. I wanted to be there.”
He’d been stuck overseas in a desert so hot it boiled your blood. It had been the only time in his military career he’d fought for leave, but they’d denied him. There had been a situation . . . a crisis . . . a something . . . and they hadn’t wanted their best pilot gone.
“Oh.” The coffeepot sputtered. Hissed. And he could see how she struggled to find a breath. For the first time he wondered what it would feel like to have someone miss him as much as she obviously missed Steven. “I’m sure he would have understood.”
Yeah, he would have. Steven was that type of guy. “Look.” Jared stood, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get out of there. “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I’m not here to become your partner.”
She all but sighed with relief. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m just here to collect on my loan.”
The relief he saw on her face was short lived. “I don’t have your money.”
“No problem.” He slid the chair back under the counter. “We’ll stop by your bank before I head out of town.”
“Y-you don’t understand. I don’t have it.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to have the cash lying around. You can write me a check, or we can go to the bank and have the money transferred into my account.”
She shook her head and worried her lower lip. “I don’t have it. Here or at the bank.”
“Get it.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “How? By turning over rocks? Chasing down leprechauns? Playing the lottery?”
“I don’t care how. Sell something. Sell the plane. Sell this house. Sell your fancy sports car.” Her deep blush told him his suspicions had been correct. Miss Playmate of the Month drove around in a fifty thousand dollar automobile while her house and hangar were falling down around her. Unbelievable.
Her bottom lip stilled. “And how would I run the business if I sold this property? The plane?”
“What business? From the looks of things, there doesn’t seem to be any business.”
Her eyes flashed all shades of mad at him. “I am not selling. Ever.”
“Fine. Then find another way.”
“There is no way I can—”
“I’m not interested in your financial problems.” He could feel the Mexican sand slipping through his grasp.
“Go to a bank. Or go to your parents. Steven told me how rich they were. Frankly, I don’t give a rip what you do. Just do it.”
She moved toward him, braced the palms of her hands on the counter. “What are you, a Nike commercial?”
This was all a joke to her. “Find the money, or I will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You might have an aversion to selling, but I don’t.” He turned and left the same way he came in. Come hell or high water, he was going to get his money. He’d finally found what he wanted, and no one was going to stop him. No one. Not even a honey-haired goddess with a centerfold’s body and hot pink nails.
FOUR
The minute the bell rang, Cody was out the door. He heard his teacher calling his name, but he ignored her. He knew what she wanted—what she always wanted lately. To rag on him about something: a bad grade, a missing assignment, a test he needed to retake. But there was no way he was going to stop and listen to that today.
Hitting the main hall, he stuffed his book and papers into his backpack, not bothering to stop at his locker. All he could think about was getting home and getting ready for the game. He was almost to the front doors when he heard his best friend.
“Hey, Code Man! Wait up.” Parker jogged up beside him, bumped him in the shoulder.
“Heya, Parker.”
“Ready for the big game?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Like duh.” Parker grinned.
They headed outside. A group of kids were piled around the front steps. Several called out to them as they hurried past. Cody and Parker tossed hi’s back without stopping.
“I heard Coach is putting Brady on third base,” Parker said as they made their way across the grass.
“Sweet. If he sticks Mason there again, we’re screwed.”
“No kidding.” Parker spotted his mom parked out front. “Wanna ride?”
“Nah, not today.”
“Okay, dude.” Parker opened the car door and threw his backpack on the floor. His younger brother and sister were in the backseat arguing about something. Parker glanced back at Cody and rolled his eyes. “See ya at the game.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
“Hello, Cody,” Parker’s mom said, leaning across to peer out the passenger side.
“Hi, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Do you need a ride to the game this afternoon?”
Cody hiked his backpack farther up onto his shoulder. He shook his head. “My mom’s taking me.”
Surprise flashed across Mrs. Nelson’s face. “That’s great. I’m glad she’ll get to see at least one game this season.”
He smiled. “Yeah, me, too.”
“Aren’t you pitching tonight?”
“Yep.�
�
“Honestly, I don’t know how your mother finds the time. I can barely take care of these three, let alone hold down a job. And just last week Parker’s dad and I heard your mother’s name on the news. Again.” She shook her head. “The news.” Now Mrs. N. was the one with the smile. “Something about the delivery of a set of quintuplets. Your mother has such an important job. And your father. I’m just amazed—”
“Come on, Ma,” Parker interrupted, exchanging a look with Cody. Mrs. N. would go on forever if they let her. “We gotta go.”
“Oh, all right.” She turned in her seat, said something to Parker’s brother and sister, which instantly shut them up. “If you change your mind about that ride, Cody, just give us a call. It’s no problem.”
“Thanks, but like I said, my mom is driving me.”
After they drove away, Cody hurried to the crosswalk, only to be held up by the dorky lady with her dorky sign and even dorkier orange vest. She acted like they were still in kindergarten. Finally, she walked out into the street, held up the stop sign, and waved him and the other kids across. He took off at a sprint.
Even though his house was only seven blocks from the school, his mom had never let him walk home alone before this year. She kept saying he was too young. No matter how many times he told her he wasn’t a baby, she just ignored him and made sure Parker’s mom or one of his other friends’ mom gave him a ride. But at the start of this school year, Dad said since he was in eighth grade, he was old enough to walk home by himself. Cody couldn’t believe it when Mom finally said okay. But every day one of the moms still offered him a ride.
By the time he reached Fircrest, he was out of breath. He slowed to a walk. Maybe he should have stopped off at his locker, gotten rid of some of the junk in his backpack. But he hadn’t wanted to waste the time. Using his arm, he pushed at his backpack. A stupid book kept jabbing into his back.
A fat raindrop hit his white sleeve. He looked up and saw dark clouds rolling across the sky. Scowling, he started to run again. A few minutes later, he turned onto his street. When he hit his driveway, he slowed and headed to the side door, digging his key out of his backpack’s front pocket.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, like he did every time he saw the keychain. It was so retarded. Retarded and huge. Like his mom thought if she didn’t buy him the biggest one possible, he’d lose it. And if the ginormous plastic house wasn’t bad enough, she’d written his name and phone number on the back. If he lost it and a burglar found it, they’d know exactly which house to break into. Cody rolled his eyes again. Sometimes his mom was so weird.
He kicked the door shut behind him and immediately pulled off his tie. Attending Saint Charles with their stupid uniforms and stupider rules could have been social suicide; the only thing that saved him was that his buddies also went there.
He dumped his backpack in the laundry room, went into the kitchen, and picked up the phone.
“Dr. Adams’s office. How may I help you?”
“It’s Cody.”
“Hi, Cody,” his mom’s receptionist said just like she did every school day. “You made it home okay?”
Duh. “Yeah. Can you tell Mom I’m home?” He didn’t even bother to ask to speak to her, knowing she’d be busy. She was always busy.
“I sure will.”
“Thanks.”
He headed for his room. The house was quiet, like it always was on Marie’s afternoons off. In his bedroom he found his baseball uniform washed, folded, and waiting for him on the corner of his bed. On top of the uniform, Marie had left a note wishing him good luck at the game.
Knowing he only had a half hour until his mom got home, he quickly changed.
Back downstairs, he found another note on the kitchen table, this one telling him to have an apple and some cheese for snack. And a glass of milk.
Riiight. He left the note where it was (just in case his mom wondered what he’d had for a snack), and, instead, dug around in the pantry until he found the box of Pop Tarts buried in the back.
His stomach growled as he put two in the toaster. He hadn’t eaten his lunch today. He knew his friends thought it was because of today’s game. And yeah, that was part of it, but the real reason he was so psyched was because his mom was going to be there. Neither of his parents had been to a game all season. He knew his dad wouldn’t make a game because he was off to some country Cody couldn’t even find on a map. Doctors Without Borders. Cody wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but when he’d tried asking his dad and mom about it, they gave him some vague answer that probably only made sense to people with brains as big as theirs.
He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes till Mom got home. He was just about to go into the family room and play a video game when he changed his mind. Getting his backpack, he dug out his math book and got to work on homework. Mom would be shocked. He’d made his way halfway through tonight’s problems when the phone rang.
“Adams residence.”
“Hi, Cody, it’s Mom.”
“Are you on your way?”
There was a slight pause. “Look, Cody, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to be late.”
“That’s okay. We don’t have to be there until four thirty.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but—”
“You can still make it, Mom. You have plenty of time.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but there’s nothing I can do. Something came up at work—”
“It’s always work.”
“Cody . . .”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Hard. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “You promised.”
“This is important.” She didn’t say anything for a long time, like she was waiting for him to say something. But he was done talking. No one ever listened anyway.
“I’ve already called Parker’s mom, and they’re going to pick you up,” his mom said after the silence had gone on forever. In the background, he could hear someone calling her name. “Honey, I’ve got to go.”
She paused again. Then, finally, “Bye, Cody. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
He hung up the phone. After a moment, he rushed over to the table, grabbed his homework, and ripped it into a million little pieces.
He caught his reflection in the large mirror on the wall. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He ground his fist into his eyes. He was such a baby. A big fat crybaby. Who cared if his mom came or not?
He looked into the mirror again, saw his blotchy, tear-streaked face and the bright white of his uniform. Turning, he ran up to his room as fast as he could and ripped his uniform off. Shrugging into a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, he went back down and slipped on his favorite pair of sneakers. His mom hated these sneakers. She kept telling Cody to throw them away because they were so old and torn. But Cody wouldn’t get rid of them.
Without wasting another moment, he tore out the back door and grabbed his bike out of the garage. Who cared about a stupid old game? With tears streaming down his face, he pedaled as hard and as fast and as far as he could.
Jenny stared at herself in the full-length mirror and tried to recognize the woman she saw staring back. Her face was pale, her hair limp, her eyes dull and rimmed in red, and the black suit she swore she’d never wear again hung on her frame, testifying to all the weight she’d recently lost.
From the time she’d turned fifteen, she’d done the ten-pound battle, trying everything under the sun to shed it. Low carb. No carb. High fat. Low fat. All fruit. No fruit. But what little weight she managed to lose would always come right back, refusing to stay off. Until nine months ago when, on a warm August night, a drunk driver blew through a stop sign and took from her the only thing she’d ever truly wanted.
Those ten pounds she used to think so important fell off her. And then another ten. She knew she was bordering on too thin, but most days she could barely manage to choke down more than a bite or two. The only real meal she ate each week was the lunch with her mom, and she only finished that because
it was easier than the verbal battle that would follow if she didn’t.
How could everything have gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?
The panic and despair she’d been fighting to keep at bay since Jared had left demanded to be let loose.
She would never sell. Never. She would brave the lion’s den—or the banker’s office, as the case may be—to save her and Steven’s dream.
The drive into Hidden Lake had never seemed to take so long . . . or go so fast. Before she had fully gathered her thoughts and courage, she was maneuvering into a parking spot right out front of the bank. Purse and file folder in hand, she entered the bank. She stopped a few feet inside, letting her eyes adjust. The two tellers—Sue and Monica—called out a greeting. Jenny waved to them and the only other customer in the bank, Mr. Denton, but her mind was elsewhere. She scanned the cool, quiet interior looking for—
“Jennifer. What a pleasant surprise.”
Slowly, Jenny turned. “Hello, Mr. Howard.”
John Howard, president of Hidden Lake’s one and only bank, stood less than five feet from her. As usual, the short man was impeccably dressed—a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and gray tie. His full head of brown hair was expertly styled and his black leather shoes polished to a high sheen. Even though he was only a handful of years older than she was, Jenny always got a paternal vibe from him. Maybe it was because he spoke to her in that same kind but I-know-what’s-best-for-you manner her father did. Or maybe it was because of the way he always gave her a pat and soft squeeze on her arm whenever they saw each other. As if reading her thoughts, he reached out and gave her upper arm a friendly squeeze.
“What brings you into the bank on this fine day?”
“Actually . . .” Jenny paused, swallowed. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”
His expression seemed to brighten. “Certainly. Shall we go into my office?” He stretched his arm out, indicating the way. As if she didn’t know. It seemed as if every other month she was making her way down the short hallway and into his office.
Lake Magic Page 5