Tess sips her coffee, following my every move. “I don’t know. What’d she look like?”
“Not like him.”
I dust the crumbs into the sink. Nothing like being ganged up on by two spiteful women. “If she did look like me, she’d never have gotten married. Guys hate five o’clock shadow on a woman. Now if you don’t mind”—I dump my full cup into the sink and put it in the dishwasher—“I have more important things to do than tackle your paranoia.”
I’ve told so many lies, even I can’t keep track of the truth anymore.
* * *
Tess
Secrets, secrets, secrets. Everyone has a secret. Or, in Julia’s case, is telling a secret. As soon as I could shake Jake last night, I phoned her, but she didn’t pick up. And I know why. Five more times today, and she still won’t pick up. If she thinks I’m so easily dismissed…
As soon as class gets out, I head back up the hill. By my calculations, she should be working at the restaurant this afternoon. The usual forty five-minute commute takes me thirty. I’m motivated by righteous anger. If you can’t trust your best friend…
And it’s clear I can’t.
Julia’s car sits in the parking lot—right next to Jake’s. How cozy. My Benedict Arnold-of-a-friend has joined forces with the other side. I’ve spent the last nineteen hours gearing myself up for this confrontation. We’ll just see how she talks her way out of this one.
I pass the kitchen, where Jake and Maris are arguing over the menu, and storm down the hall. Julia sits behind Jake’s desk, her face glued to the computer monitor.
“Well, well, well.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. She should be scared.
“If it isn’t Little Miss Tattle-tail.”
She drops her hands into her lap and straightens her shoulders. She’s preparing for battle, no doubt. “You should be thanking me.”
She’s got to be kidding.
Stepping into the office, I close the door. “How would you like it if I went to Marty and told him you have a thing for him?”
Her face reddens. “That’s not the same at all. I did the right thing, calling Jake.”
I spread my hands on the desk and lean toward her. “If you really believe that, you wouldn’t have ignored the gazillion phone calls I’ve made since last night.”
“Six, Tess.” She stands. “You called six times. And just like the phone call exaggeration, you’re blowing this whole thing with Jake way out of proportion.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
She crosses her arms. “Yes. I watched you leave last night with the intention of doing something so incredibly stupid and dangerous that I broke down and cried in front of my son.”
“That’s not—”
“And I never break down in front of Max. Not when his dad doesn’t send the child support. Not when my car goes on the fritz and I have nothing left in the savings to pay for the repairs. Not even when he’s in tears over his dad canceling their weekend together, which happens way too much.” Her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard.
“I wasn’t in danger.”
She shakes her head. “For an intelligent woman, you’re really stupid.”
“Hey, you can’t—”
“I can.” She plops back into the chair. “You want to end our friendship because I was so worried about you that I didn’t keep your absurd secret, fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I grab the chair from the corner, set it beside the desk, and sit. How does she do that? Now I feel like I should be apologizing to her. “I just wish you could have trusted me. I mean, to have Jake show up there like some kind of James Bond wannabe and sneak up behind me—”
“He did that?”
“He picked me up like a sack of potatoes and carried me back to his car.”
Laughing, she folds her elbows on the desk. “It sounds like he’s got a thing for you.”
“Yeah, right.” But the words don’t come out as sure as I intend them. He held my hand most of the way up the hill last night. What was that all about? Friendship? Julia wouldn’t hold my hand like that.
“Is it so implausible that Jake may have feelings for you?”
“It doesn’t matter if he does.”
“How can you say that?”
“There are too many things I don’t know about him. Just because Dad trusted him…”
“What? So, you don’t know where he worked before he came here. A lot of people aren’t proud of their past careers.”
My eyes focused on my hands, I pick at a cuticle. “It’s not just that, Jules. Katie saw him with some gorgeous—her word, not mine—woman the other day.”
“Where?”
I point to the floor. “Here. At the restaurant.”
“Maybe it’s a cousin or—”
“His sister?”
“Well, yeah.”
I roll my eyes. “Then why the big secret?”
She shrugs. “Maybe they had a falling out. Who knows? But you shouldn’t assume he’s done anything wrong.”
My eyes latch onto the computer monitor. “When did we get that?”
“What?”
“The computer.”
“I’ve been working on it since Jake hired me. Why?”
I stand and walk behind the desk to look at the tower. “This isn’t Dad’s computer. It’s newer.” How is it I’ve never noticed it before?
“Well, yeah. Your dad’s was old and needed some serious work before we could update QuickBooks, so Jake got this one.”
Standing over Julia’s shoulder, I reach for the mouse. The monitor, which had been asleep, jumps to life. QuickBooks is running. “What else does he have on here?”
“I don’t know. All I use is this.”
Minimizing the program, I peruse the desktop for a document program and email.
“What’re you doing?” She cranes to look up at me, but I’m so close, my armpit is practically in her face.
“Give me a minute.”
“Hang on, Tess. You shouldn’t be snooping into his computer.”
“It’s not his computer. It belongs to the business, of which I’m owner on record.”
“But that’s like looking into someone else’s email.”
“Company email.”
Opening his email, I click onto the sent box and glance down the list. There aren’t many, and only one is repeated—two_sisters. I open the last sent email and read the subject line, Report, October 15th. There’s an attachment, which I open. Word starts, and the report fills the screen.
What the heck?
Chapter 29
Tess
I’ve given Jake every opportunity to tell me the truth, but all he does is deflect. I don’t know anything more about him than I did the day he walked into our restaurant as the new hire. And I could almost live with that.
Until now.
There were four “reports” written and sent to two_sisters, whoever that is. Every detail going back to last April, when Dad died—the classes I’m taking, Katie’s grades, a financial rundown on the restaurant, Maris’s issues with the restaurant’s money. And Stephen Fields. Very precise. Very unemotional. Very invasive.
Julia thinks I should just ask him about it, as if I should trust him with the truth. I don’t think I can take one more lie, and yet I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the truth, either. There’s a part of me, long asleep—the proverbial Rip Van Winkle—starting to awaken under his friendship, if I can call it that. But what if that’s just part of his plan? There could be no possible explanation for him sharing our private lives—Katie’s and mine—with some unknown entity.
Armed with Jake’s social security number, filched from the payroll records, I drive to Jerald & Brothers Investigators once again. Ignoring the visions of Jake touching my face, holding my hand, and carrying me across Stephen Fields’ yard, I climb out of the car. They were well-played attempts to earn my trust. Had I not stumbled upon those incriminating r
eports, they would have worked, too.
The passage of time since my first visit here is evident on my walk from the car to the office. Clusters of pumpkins, both carved and whole, adorn front porches and store fronts. The leaves, which were a vibrant green only a few months ago, are now gold and red. And the oppressive heat of a Sacramento summer has given way to a fall chill.
Girl Friday and Humphrey Bogart look the same. And why shouldn’t they? Because I’m not the same person I was the first time I walked in here? I stand on the precipice of newness—a precarious position that can be easily toppled if I make a wrong move.
Or trust the wrong person.
Girl Friday sends me back to Richard’s cubby, where he stands and waves a hand toward a chair facing his desk. “So, Ms. O’Shay, you’re back.”
“I’m back.” Fishing through my purse, I find the sheet of paper with Jake’s information and hold it up. “With a social security number.”
Instead of reaching for it, as I expect, he plops back in his chair and leans his elbows on the desk. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”
My shoulders tense. “What do you have against taking this job?”
“Nothing.” He lays his hands on the desk and motions to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.” With a sigh, he gives me a pointed look. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. I want you to be sure, because once you have this information, there’s no going back.”
“Don’t you think it’s better to know the truth?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
“On why you need it? What’s your motivation?”
Crossing my legs, I shake my head. “Are you in the habit of talking people out of using your services? Last time I was here, you—”
“Fine.” He holds up his hands. “Just warning you of buyer’s remorse.”
I slide Jake’s social across the desk. “In the last few months, more questions have come to light than answers. And the other day, I discovered that Jake”—I take a breath and unclench my jaw—“has been writing reports of my sister’s and my activities. That’s an invasion of privacy, at the least. And I have no idea why he’s doing this.”
“Did you ask him?”
Jaw clenched once again, I glare at him. There’s no reason to share with him how this betrayal puts to rest a dream and a hope barely conceived. Or how much it hurts. “I want to know what he did before coming to Placerville, how he met my father, his financial situation—” Why isn’t he writing anything down? “Are you going to remember this?”
“So far, it’s basic information.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Depends on the initial investigation. I’ll get whatever I can through an Internet search, but if I have to drive or fly somewhere, then it’s more time.”
Fly somewhere? It didn’t occur to me what this could entail. How much do I have in my savings account? “What do you think this’ll cost?”
“Five hundred dollars an hour plus expenses. I’ll need a three-thousand-dollar retainer up front. Once that runs out, you’ll have to decide whether it’s worth it for you to continue to pursue.”
“And if you don’t need it all?”
“You’ll get it back.”
Three thousand dollars for six hours. And what if he doesn’t find anything?
“Miss O’Shay?”
Don’t do it.
I ignore the schizophrenic voice in my head—or is it God?—and take my checkbook and pen from my purse. Here goes my savings. Should I pray that he finds something or that he doesn’t?
Five minutes later, I exit the offices of Jerald & Brothers and, head down against a gust of wind, walk back to my car. What have I done? Either way, I lose. If Jake turns out to be a con man or worse, a part of me will die with that truth. The part that’s softened under his care. And if Jake is everything Dad believed him to be? He’ll feel as violated by this choice as I did when I saw those reports on his computer.
Life was so much easier before I discovered I had choices.
* * *
Jake
Standing by the alley entrance to the restaurant, I wave Marty to back up his truck. The tarp-covered furniture I purchased at a liquidation sale—two tables and six chairs—blocks his rear window. Exhaust from his truck and the stench from a nearby dumpster make the chore noxious.
I hold up a hand. “That’s good.”
Marty jumps out and slams the door. “Where’re we going to put all this?”
“Thought we might look at what we have inside. Replace the worst of it and donate the rejects to Goodwill.”
“Sounds good.” He goes to the other side of the truck and loosens the ropes. “Forgot to ask how things are going with Tess.”
Dropping the tailgate, I hesitate. “How should they be going?”
“Is she talking to you? I mean, after you went all…what did she call it? Neanderthal on her.”
I reach under the tarp and haul one of the chairs down. “Same as usual. She tolerates me.”
He snorts. “I swear, if survival of the species depended on the two of you hooking up, I’d be searching for a rocket-ship ride to Mars.”
I open my mouth to argue, but what’s the point? If he wants to believe the two of us have a future, who am I to say different? Crazier things have happened.
He throws the tarp off the load and rests his arms on the bed rail.
“Let’s go inventory the dining room before we clutter it up with more.”
“Hey, Jake?”
Katie stands in the entrance, hands in the pockets of her jeans, hair loose. And that I-got-a-favor-to-ask-you look in her eyes. Now what?
“You don’t start work for another hour.”
“I got Sarah to cover for me. There’s a party, kind of pre-Halloween.” She throws me a winning smile so much like her sister’s I smell manipulation.
“You ask Tess?”
“She’s not around. I’m guessing she stayed late at school.”
“Where is it?”
“A friend’s place.”
“What friend?”
Her shoulders slump. “His name’s Mark Mayhew.” Strike one.
“How many people?”
“Tons. Half my class.” Her eyes light up like it’s a plus.
What would Tess do? “I don’t know, Katie.”
“Please.”
“Aw, come on, Jake.” Marty grins. “Just ’cause you and Tess don’t know how to have fun, doesn’t mean the kid should suffer.”
I glare at him. “Fun’s about all you do know.”
“What else is there?”
“Uh, let’s see. Responsibility?”
“Overrated.”
“Hello?” Katie waves her arms. “Can we get back to me? How ’bout it, Jake?”
“Why don’t you call Tess on her cell. I’d feel better if it was her decision.”
“What are you, chicken? Besides, I tried and she’s not picking up.”
I rub my brow. Hope this isn’t a mistake. “Be home by eleven.”
“What?” Katie slaps a hand on her thigh, eyes narrowed. “A curfew? Since when?”
She’s getting more like her sister every day. “Since you came home drunk the last time you went out.” I step back to the truck and grab a hold of another chair.
Marty follows. “She did?”
“You think making me come home early’s going to keep me from drinking?”
I set the chair on the ground with a little more force than necessary and shake my head. God must have a really good reason for creating teenagers. Don’t know what it is, but I’ve been told He doesn’t make mistakes. “Take it or leave it.”
“But that’s so unfair. I’ll be an outcast, having to leave early like a baby or something.”
Marty leans toward me. “Is this what it’s always like?”
“Pretty much.”
“Dude. I haven’t given you enough credit.”
“How ’b
out this, Jake?” Katie pushes her way between Marty and me, eyes pleading. “Let me stay out until one and I’ll do your laundry for a week.”
“Nope. Eleven.”
“Twelve?”
“How about ten-thirty?”
She glares at me, hands on hips, nostrils flaring. “It’s payback, isn’t it?”
I bark out a laugh and step clear of her. “For what?”
“Because I told Tess about that woman who came to see you. Now you’re punishing me.”
“I don’t operate that way. That’s more yours and Tess’s M.O.”
Marty freezes, a chair halfway out of the truck bed. “What woman?”
Great. Now he’s going to be on me about it. “No one.”
Katie snorts. “Yeah, right. First some strange guy shows up and then—”
“Strange guy?” He elbows me. “You got some secret life going on?”
“Keep pushing it, Katie.” I haul the last chair from the truck and slam it on the pavement. “You want to go out tonight, fine. You be home by eleven. End of discussion.”
Fists clenched, arms straight down at her side, she stomps off like a five-year-old.
“So…” Marty leans his rear on the tailgate, arms crossed. “What’s this all about?”
“You mean to tell me you missed that whole conversation? Let me recap for you. Katie wants to go to a party. I gave her an eleven—”
“You’re hysterical.” He slaps my shoulder with the back of a hand. “What are you, in Witness Protection or something? I mean, you don’t talk about your past, strange comings and goings that you won’t explain…”
I hold up a hand. “I explained. They don’t believe me. The strange guy was an old friend. We had a falling out and happened to run into each other here one night. The woman? She’s my sister.”
“Is she hot?”
“What d’you think?”
“Available?”
“No. Now, can we get this done or what?”
“Since we’re on a roll here, wanna tell me what you did before coming here?”
Scratching my brow with a thumb, I look at him. “You want to tell me how you can afford to never work?”
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