by Lia Riley
“Even mafia murders?”
“Except for mafia murders. Maybe. What the heck, I’d probably end up handling your defense pro bono.”
Tuesday’s eyes sheened. This must be bad. “It hurts when your dreams crash and burn.”
Her sister must have lost a dream part. “Aw, honey. You have more talent in your little finger than anyone I know.”
Tuesday opened up the breadbox and tore off a piece of baguette. Elizabeth’s husband ran the popular upscale French restaurant in town, and her new friend kept dropping off fresh baked bread.
“Talent doesn’t always matter.” Tuesday took a bite, chewing carefully before continuing, “I could work as hard as I could, day and night, until my throat was raw, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. The world is what it is. You get on a lucky streak, or a losing one. And sometimes luck doesn’t matter and success feels like a game, but you don’t even know the rules and…” She took a shaky breath. “Never mind. I’ll be fine. How many people get to live their dream? I’ll have to tweak mine.”
“This isn’t like you.”
“This is exactly like me.” Tuesday examined the kitchen. “Like you living here in Georgia and working as a dog walker, of all things. Why can’t it be okay to modify your dreams?” Her voice suggested that she’d been telling herself this for some time.
“It absolutely can be.” Pepper stood and walked to the teakettle, pouring the hot water into her ceramic coffee filter. “But, honey? If you ever want to tell me what happened, I’ll be here.”
Tuesday remained quiet. In this case, Pepper knew silence was an admission of guilt, but what’s more, her sister didn’t want to talk. And she was going to have to respect that.
“What do you think about Chicago?”
Pepper shrugged. “I never think about Chicago. Except for deep dish. Yum.”
“That’s where I want to move. They have a theater scene. It’s cheaper than LA. Lake Michigan sounds pretty. Are there any other dog-walking jobs going in these parts? I could hustle up a bit of cash, too, and be on my merry way.”
“Not really. I’ve cornered the market. You could find the Village Pillage medallion.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. I’m kidding.” Pepper grabbed a copy of the Everland Examiner and held it up. “It’s a weeklong festival. One of the big events is a silent auction—neither of us have cash to worry about that—and the other is this town treasure hunt.”
“Stop the presses.” Tuesday jumped off the counter and grabbed the paper, speed-reading through the front page. “You are a genius! So every couple of days they put in a clue, and whoever finds the medallion first wins ten grand?”
“Yes, but we’ll never—”
“Listen to the first clue, it’s cryptic… In the summer, fall, and spring, you can hear them sing, at the place that has a bed and never sleeps and a mouth that never talks.” She lowered the paper with a frown. “Ugh. I hate riddles and brain teasers.”
“I know.” Pepper had always tried to get Tuesday interested in the New York Times cryptic crosswords to no avail. “There’s a twisted logic to it. But don’t get your hopes up. There will be references to local folklore that we don’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tuesday said. “You have the brains, and don’t forget my secret weapon.”
“An encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes?”
Tuesday stuck out her tongue. “I’m scrappy.”
Pepper shook her head, realization dawning. “We do have a secret weapon. Rhett.”
Her sister clasped the paper to her heart. “Your secret, oh-so-sexy boyfriend?”
“Stop. He’s my next-door neighbor.”
“What he is is yum.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned a swoon. “Call me peanut butter and jealous.”
“Listen. You can’t breathe so much as a word about Rhett and me to anyone,” Pepper ordered in a menacing tone. “Wait, on second thought, don’t mention Rhett at all. In fact, don’t speak, full stop. I’ll tell people you’re visiting from Helsinki and only know Finnish.”
“I do love secret drama, but you are both grown, consenting adults. Why the secrecy?” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit, Pepper. You are kidding me.” She leaned close and frowned. “Is he married? I can accept a lot, but not that. That’s a terrible idea. You have to break this off immed—”
“No! Who do you think I am? Of course Rhett isn’t married,” Pepper hissed, sitting to inhale the coffee in her cup. This was going to be a three-cup morning. “But you don’t know this town. Everyone is in everyone’s business.”
“Who cares? Look at him. I’d want to walk around getting high-fives at the corner store.”
Pepper shook her head. “A few years ago he was jilted the day of his wedding. The whole town bore witness. The emotional fallout and gossip shut him down.”
Tuesday wrinkled her nose. “First, who would ever leave all that A-grade cuteness? And second, who gets jilted at the altar? That stuff only happens in movies.”
“And Everland. This place, you don’t even know. There is a couple here with a pet pig. And a neighbor with a pink Cadillac who creeps around with binoculars and runs a gossip blog. And competitive Scrabble games in the park? And pirate treasure and—”
“Okay, okay, jeez, I get the picture. And circle back to the pirate treasure? Like what amount are we talking about? Scrooge McDuck level riches, doing backstrokes through golden coins?”
“I guess.” She smiled. DuckTales had been one of their favorite programs as kids. “But I’m serious. No one needs to know about Rhett and me. This is a fling. The last thing he wants or needs is to be the center of more town drama.”
“You don’t do flings. It’s not part of your DNA.”
She bristled. “How do you know?”
“Let’s see.” Tuesday tapped her chin. “Besides the fact you’ve been my big sister and best friend, since, hmm, let’s see, my whole life?”
“Who says I have to be the same person every single day?” She ripped out her hair elastic and slipped it around her wrist. “The one who prefers vanilla to chocolate—”
“Still never understood that.”
“Or coffee to tea. Or James Stewart to Humphrey Bogart.”
“Oh, no you didn’t go there.” Tuesday clasped her hands to her chest in mock horror. “You want to debate the sexiest leading man in Hollywood’s golden age of cinema? Because Casablanca beats Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in terms of sexy men—”
“My point is that maybe you’re right. At least sort of.”
“Wow, what a ringing endorsement.”
“I mean, look at you and Chicago. It’s a new you, but it makes sense. Maybe I am not going to scrap my entire identity. I can tweak stuff. But no matter what, I have to practice law, and make money because…” There was no way to say “so I can look after you and Dad someday” without making it sound like a guilt trip. “Because it’s practical.”
“It’s pointless for me to say that I’m not your problem to fix.” Tuesday leaned forward, bracing her forehead in her hands. “I can talk until my vocal cords snap, but you’ll never hear reason. Mom messed you up so much. Add that particular resentment to my therapy list.”
“It’s how I’m wired. I can’t live without knowing where I’ll get my next paycheck, or constantly reacting to external forces rather than being proactive. My chosen path puts me in the driver’s seat. Maybe it’s boring, like driving a Toyota, but hey, it can be a red Toyota.”
Tuesday giggled. “If law doesn’t work out, you should consider doing gigs as a motivational speaker.”
“Shut up.”
“How to live your best life with a practical dollop of daring.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “A red Toyota. Only you.”
“My point remains valid. Why can’t I have a summer fling?” Her voice rang a little hollow, so she kept talking as if she threw enough words at her heart, eventually some would
stick. “I’m not staying around Everland past summer’s end. Rhett will live here long after I’m gone. I’m never naughty. So why can’t I transform this temporary dead end into a chance to sow some wild oats and spread a few branches? There’s time enough for roots down the road.”
“You can.” Tuesday didn’t look convinced. “Absolutely. It’s just out of character. You’re too practical for a friends with benefits arrangement. You’ll get involved. I know you. You take a good easy-breezy game, but give it another week or two and you’ll be trying to fix his life, assist in any crises, be there, offering a shoulder to lean upon. This is what you do. Because…”
“Go on.” She forced herself to take a deep breath and release it slowly. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
“You’re afraid that if nobody needs you, they’ll leave.”
Pepper sat there, reeling. Part of her wanted to hit back. After all, Tuesday wasn’t Little Miss Perfect. One week she’d be splurging on organic chia seeds and kale chips, self-identifying as a vegan, but wait two weeks and she’d be sniffling over a plate of kalbi ribs in Koreatown because she lost a part by “this much, Pepper. This much.” Look up flaky or hot mess in the dictionary, and would be her sister, hunting for her missing apartment keys or staying up all hours watching miniature cooking videos or never making it anywhere on time, despite sending a heads-up “I’m running ten minutes late” text. Or not. Because maybe her phone was lost. Again.
She had so much ammunition that all she needed to do was open her mouth and she’d take her sister down Rambo-style.
But one thing stopped her.
Tuesday was right. It hurt like hell to hear, but it was nevertheless, the truth.
Finally, Tuesday broke the silence but walking to the kitchen and coming back with a bottle of merlot and two mason jars. She filled them both to the brim.
“Here.” She passed one. “You’re my sister. You drive me crazy, but you’re my best friend on the face of the Earth. I don’t want to fight.”
“Me neither.” Pepper ruefully clinked her glass.
“Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. The medallion prize money. Your Rhett—sorry, Rhett the random friendly neighbor—can assist with deciphering any clues referencing local knowledge or place names. Then we’ll find the medallion, grab the money and be off to start new lives in the Windy City.”
Pepper frowned. “We?”
“Me? Go to Chicago alone?” Tuesday feigned shock. “Plus, look at J.K. Growling and Kitty. They love each other.”
The two dogs were curled up together in a sunny patch of morning sun.
“Chicago,” Pepper whispered, tasting the possibilities. It was one thing to tell herself that she was leaving. Quite another to have an actual destination. “You think we’d like the Midwest?”
“We’ll take it by storm.” Tuesday let free a contented sigh. “No ocean, but hey they have those big lakes. It’s a perfect plan.”
“Yeah. Perfect.” Pepper refused to look out the window at the house next door. Rhett would never leave Everland. His family was here, his whole life. And she couldn’t sacrifice hers, or abandon them. The little fantasy she’d allowed to dance around the edge of her mind about finding a happily ever Everland was just that. A story to be told in the dark between kisses and cuddles.
It wasn’t real.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rhett glared at his desk phone. He’d had to treat a lizard for stomach parasites a few hours ago, an unpleasant business, but this call would be worse. The community foundation had gone radio silent—a bad sign. The idea of groveling to Hogg, hat in hand, sucked, but if it meant securing the shelter’s funding, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. Time to touch base with the grant officer and get it over sooner rather than later.
Steinbeck barked. Fitz and Faulkner joined in.
“Hey, guys, quiet in the peanut gallery,” Rhett ordered. Was a squirrel taunting them from the window?
“Hello, is this a bad time?” Pepper poked her head in through the open door.
“No!” He leapt up. “Not at all. Come on in.”
The dogs clamored for her attention. She gave them each a quick pat on the head, looking more or less fond. “They’re excited.”
“Must have gotten a wild hair over something.” He suspected it was the same thing making him grin like an idiot—this woman here, in her navy blue sundress with red strappy sandals and toes to match.
“Because I can come back. Or talk to you later or—”
“Shut the door.” He pulled out a seat. “What do you need?”
“Nice place.” She did as he invited while checking out the office. “Very you.”
He glanced at the bookshelves, framed degrees, and photographs. “What’s that mean?”
“Has your vibe, open and bright.”
He lifted his brows. “Bright?”
“Yeah.” She sat, crossed her legs, and regarded him a moment. “You know how sometimes it looks overcast until you go up in a plane, and once you pass through the clouds, the world is blue skies and sunny? That’s what you are, deep down.”
He swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat, but it refused to budge.
“Here’s why I’m here. My sister and I want to win the Village Pillage medallion hunt and the ten thousand dollars.”
“Good luck with that.” He leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. “So does the whole town.”
She jerked a hand to her hip. “Never bet against the Knight sisters when a treasure is on the line. All I know is it’s going to be located near the river. The first clue is ‘a bed you never sleep on’; that’s a riverbed. ‘Something that has a mouth but never talks.’ River again. I’m not sure on the scream part, but I think it will come together after the second clue is released. But if there are obscure references to local history or places, I can’t figure that out alone. Will you help me?”
“Why’s this so important?” Pepper hadn’t expressed a peep of interest in the hunt before now.
“Tuesday has left New York for good. For that to have occurred something terrible happened, she won’t say what. Now she wants a fresh start.” She spoke faster and faster, the way she did when wanting to outrun powerful emotions. “Me too. I am looking for the same, a clerkship somewhere far away from Judge Hogg. The medallion money could get us on our way. We’re thinking Chicago.”
“Chicago? Halfway across the country?” Then what the hell did he want to help for? Helpless anger settled in his gut, growing like a cancer. Three women in his life he had felt something for, and all three had left without him having a fucking say. But look at the hopeful eagerness in her face. Despite a few passing comments, she had been nothing but honest with her intentions of leaving.
He could help her. Sure. Why not? After all, everyone knows good guys finish last.
He pushed up his shirtsleeves and glanced at the ink written on his arm, knowing in an instant what he’d have to do. She might not want to stay, but he’d wavered on the long ago promise he made himself.
Stay true.
He loved that Pepper loved her sister, and while he didn’t believe in any instant love-at-first-sight magic, this was a woman he could come to care deeply about. If he could figure out a way to make her stay. But Dad had inadvertently taught him one last lesson: you could never make a person choose a future they don’t want.
He had a choice. He could put himself out there. To hell with the Isthmus, he’d build a goddamn suspension bridge to his island and set the speed limit to seventy. This was his chance. To offer himself. Take it or leave it.
“You ever been sailing?” Buccaneers Marina was ten minutes from downtown Everland. A few locals lived down there full time in a small houseboat community. They’d be spotted. But fuck it, go big or go home.
“Sail?” Her eyes widened. “My sister is afraid of the water.”
“Why?”
“One, it’s big. Two, it’s deep. And three, it’s full of sharks.”
“And you?”
She shook her head wryly. “No. That would be a rational fear. I prefer hyperventilating over Chihuahuas.”
“All right then. How about this, you me and dinner on the boat tonight? We can grill, watch the sun set. A date, Miss Knight. I want to take you on an official date.”
“You do?” She stilled, a softness coming into her eyes. “That sounds nice. Really nice. Oh, and they’ll be releasing the next clue at four so we can decipher it over dinner.”
“It’s a date.” Although the real riddle was convincing a big-city girl to give a small-town guy a real shot.
After she left, he punched in Beau’s number.
“What?” his friend barked.
“Is there a mayoral congeniality training program? I’d like to set up a crowd-sourced fund-raising page.”
“Sorry, man.” Beau heaved a sigh. “It’s been a shitty day. Ever hear of Discount-Mart?”
“The big box store?”
“They sent their people over to make contact this morning. These guys were barnacles in my ass but still, it might be worth the hassle. Turns out Everland’s on their short list for a new site. A hell of a lot of local job creation potential.”
“You’re in favor?”
“Don’t know. They’re being cagey on the locations. Need to hear more. But what’s up? That’s not why you called.”
He rocked on his heels. “You using the boat later?”
“No. Why?” Beau went from work mode to suspicious.
Fuck. He didn’t have a story lined up. Oversight. “Just checking.”
“Liar. Who’s the lucky lady, Cupid?”
Rhett gritted his teeth. He loved Beau like the brother he never had, but that nickname made him nuts. What the hell, though, why not tell Beau what was going on between him and Pepper? He could even offer up advice.
“It’s complicated,” he began.
“This about you and a certain brown-haired dog walker? What was her name again, Miss Ida May?” There was a muffled response. “That’s right—Pepper. What’s in the water over there on Love Street? I’ll have to talk to the water department.”