The Moment of Truth

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  That was all right, then.

  “Do you really have time?”

  “I’ve got breaks in between classes,” she said. “It won’t take anything at all for me to run out there. Besides, I miss him. I’d look forward to a little puppy playtime.”

  The woman was...intriguing. “What about work?” he asked her. Little Guy was chewing on his shoe. The pair he’d peed on.

  “Just volunteer stuff,” she said. “My scholarship provides for living expenses. And I worked for several years out of high school and have money saved,” she continued, refreshing in her openness. Her honesty.

  “What are you studying?”

  “General business,” she said and, muffling the phone, said goodbye to someone. What had she been doing when he’d called? What had he interrupted?

  He should let her go. “You don’t seem like the business type.”

  That was his world. Cold and calculating and nothing at all like a woman who got excited at the prospect of helping pets find good homes—helping people become good pet owners.

  “My dream was to be a vet,” she told him. “But I couldn’t...afford...college right away, and it takes grad school in addition to a bachelor’s degree. When this scholarship fell in my lap, for a bachelor’s degree only, and knowing that I’d be thirty by the time I was in the job market, I figured it would be best to get a degree in something that would provide a good living rather than wishing on stars.”

  “I don’t think being a veterinarian is wishing on stars.” Cassie certainly wouldn’t think so. Josh’s mind rushed ahead of him. Maybe he should talk to her. See if there was something she could do to help Dana with some kind of monies for graduate school when the time came. There he was, thinking like a Redmond again. So easy to give out handouts when you didn’t feel, in any way, the loss. Hell, what it would cost Dana to go to graduate school he’d spent on a week’s vacation. More times than he could count.

  “Maybe not,” Dana said with a chuckle. “But I’m too practical to commit to so many years without a steady income.”

  “What about your family? They can’t help?”

  “No.”

  When she didn’t say any more, Josh didn’t push, figuring that her parents were probably strapped for cash, like most of the nation.

  Shoving his hand in his pocket, he itched to pull out a wad of bills. To trade grad school for pet-sitting help. He pulled out two twenties instead, and pushed them back in his pants.

  They were going to buy him lunches for the week.

  “Anyway, I can stop by around ten in the morning,” she said, her voice infused with its usual energy. “If you’re there around noon, and I’m back at two, we should have him covered until you get home.”

  “And you’re sure that doesn’t interfere with your classes?”

  “Positive. Believe me, I’m not going to mess up this chance to finally get a college degree,” she said. “Classes come first. Always.”

  He believed her. To a point. He figured that if someone was in need, she’d put her own aspirations aside to help out.

  His landlord had given him two keys to the house. He offered to drop the spare one off to Dana later that evening.

  And smiled when she gave him her address. He had plans for the evening. Life in Shelter Valley was looking up.

  And if any of his old buddies could see him now, they’d laugh so hard they’d piss themselves.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DANA TOLD HERSELF to go about her normal afternoon and evening. Josh Redmond was going to be stopping by for the two seconds it would take him to drop his key into her outstretched hand. It amounted to almost nothing.

  She cleaned the hamster cage and the kitty litter box, anyway. And then a shower and change of clothes was in order.

  The yoga pants and long, form-fitting gray sweater she put on were comfortable enough for Sunday evening lounging around.

  She made a salad for dinner. Listened to classical music while she ate it. Enjoyed the one glass of wine she allowed herself when she was drinking alone. Thought about calling her mother. And called a college classmate instead. Sharon was in her sixties, going to college for the first time and had just moved to Shelter Valley from Phoenix. She was in Dana’s biology lab study group and was supposed to have completed a worksheet that they were all going to use in class in the morning. Dana’s portion of the assignment had been during the original research phase. A third student was writing up the end report.

  Sharon didn’t answer. At least, not the first time Dana tried. She got her on the second attempt, but the woman, a widow who seemed to take things in her stride, sounded harried. There was a problem with her plumbing and she’d be without water until the morning.

  Dana offered her the spare bedroom Lori had used Friday night, having just changed the sheets that afternoon. She told Sharon that it would be fine if she didn’t make it over until after ten so the older woman could still attend her Bible study that evening.

  After she hung up with Sharon, her mother called. She said she was missing her, but Dana could also hear a change in her mother’s voice—a lessening of the tension that had become a member of their family from the night Susan had been presented with a report of DNA results and admitted that she’d lied to her husband about the paternity of their first child. From that moment on, Susan had had a tightrope to walk. To appease the husband she adored—and still see that her oldest child knew she was loved and wanted.

  The phone rang one more time that evening. It was Jon, a guy in her calculus class—a single dad she’d met when she’d overheard him talking about his two-year-old son, about some adjustment issues the boy was having. She’d mentioned pet therapy to him, told him about the club on campus. That conversation had taken place a good six weeks before.

  “I was talking to my fiancée about the whole pet-therapy thing and she asked if I’d put her in touch with you,” Jon explained as soon as he’d identified himself.

  “I’m happy to speak with her, sure,” Dana said, unaware, until that second, that the guy even had a girlfriend, let alone a fiancée. “She can come to the next meeting with me if she’d like. It’s next Wednesday at four—”

  “Lillie’s not a student,” Jon interrupted. “She’s a child life specialist and wants to research the possibility of using pet therapy at the day care.”

  In the end, Jon put Lillie on and, excited by the prospect of using animals in an entirely different way than she’d ever thought of before, Dana offered to meet the woman for lunch the next day. And to speak with Zack Foster, too, about having Lillie observe their next pet-therapy visit.

  She’d just hung up—and hadn’t yet had a chance to put on makeup or brush through the hair she’d pinned up for her shower—when the doorbell rang.

  The Suburban she’d seen in the parking lot at the clinic on Friday was parked behind her Mazda on her side of the duplex driveway.

  So much for making a good impression. Which was just as well. It wasn’t like Dana would have a chance with an administrator at the college she attended—not when he looked as good as Josh Redmond looked.

  Or sounded as sexy as he sounded. A man like that could have any woman he wanted. He wouldn’t have to settle for some too-skinny plain Jane from Indiana. And an overage college student at that.

  “Josh, hi!” She pulled open the door with her emotions firmly in check and her usual smile on her face. So they weren’t going to be an item—she could still like him. They could still be friends.

  “Hi.” Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved black pullover and a different pair of leather shoes, he made her tingle all the way to her toes. Holding out a hand to her, he dangled the key.

  She took it. “Thanks,” she said with another smile. Too much of one. She was being too smiley. Definitely too smiley. She tried to stop.

&nbs
p; “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?” What? What in the hell was the matter with her?

  “Sure. Just a second...” He turned and jogged toward the driveway. And returned, almost immediately, carrying a small kennel.

  He moved as though to enter her house and Dana stood holding the door in one hand and his key in the other, staring at that kennel.

  “You brought Little Guy with you?” It wasn’t that big of a deal. But...

  “Yeah. I wanted to ensure that I get a good night’s sleep tonight. Figured it was best not to leave him alone so close to bedtime or he’d be wound up.”

  He’d brought his puppy to run an errand. It was quirky, maybe even overkill, and Dana loved it.

  She practically tripped over her own feet as she stepped back too quickly, allowing him entrance. She hid her embarrassment by reaching for the puppy. “Let’s get you out of there, shall we?” she said, and Little Guy whimpered, giving her his saddest look.

  Except she had his number. “You’re spoiled and you know it,” she told the puppy as she cuddled him for a second before setting him free.

  “He just went about fifteen minutes ago, but still, do you really think that’s a good idea? He’s going to mess up your floor.”

  “It’s tile,” she pointed out. “Easily cleaned. And besides, he lived here first, remember?”

  The puppy went straight to the kitchen and Kari’s empty food bowl, proving Dana’s point that he knew his way around. Kari was nowhere to be seen at the moment, but Dana figured it wouldn’t be long before she reestablished who was the boss around Dana’s house.

  “You want to play a game of cards?” Dana asked her human guest minutes later as she stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of merlot from the six-dollar jug she’d picked up at the big-box store outside of town. Josh had made himself at home at her kitchen table and looked as if he’d be content to stay awhile.

  Giving her that eyebrow quirk that she’d come to associate with him, he tilted his head. “What kind of cards?”

  “You name the game.”

  “Five-card draw, cribbage, five-card stud...”

  Setting the glasses of wine on the table, she scooped Little Guy up to sit on her lap and pointed to the drawer at the end of the counter closest to Josh. “Cards are in there. You deal,” she said.

  Figuring he’d pick five-card draw, Dana was almost disappointed when he brought the cribbage board along with him. Daniel was a card man, and five-card draw had been his game. So Dana, in one of her many attempts to win back the adoration of the man she’d grown up adoring, had made it a goal to be as good at the game as Daniel was.

  She succeeded at cards. Just not with Daniel.

  And not with Josh, either, she found as he counted his peg around to the home lap while she’d barely hit third street. “By the way,” she said, her tongue a bit loosened by the second almost-full glass of wine she’d consumed that evening. “I’m having a group of people over for Thanksgiving dinner. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

  “Sure,” he said again, dealing cards as if he’d done so professionally at some point. Dana’s stomach did a flip-flop.

  And not because of the card-dealing.

  She wouldn’t let herself wonder what would happen if she asked Josh to take her to bed and have his wild way with her.

  She’d hold her tongue on that one. She didn’t want to scare him off.

  Or scare herself, either.

  Because if, by some miracle, she asked and he said yes, she wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to follow through with the wild sex.

  Strictly boring, missionary-style was all it had ever been for her.

  Still, it didn’t hurt to fantasize....

  * * *

  JOSH HAD A SECOND GLASS of wine at Dana’s on Sunday night, staying until her houseguest showed up just after ten. At which time he went home to go to bed so he could wake up early for his first day on the job the next day.

  He’d made it through his first official weekend as a regular guy.

  L.G., as he was beginning to think of the puppy, had curled up in his kennel as soon as Josh settled it on the bed.

  Which left Josh with absolutely nothing else to do except go to sleep.

  Stripping down to his briefs, he turned off the light. Lay down. Closed his eyes. And thrummed a drumbeat on the mattress with his right hand. Until he noticed what he was doing and stopped. His toe took over the beat, tapping against the sheet.

  Da. Da da da. Da. Da da da. Da.

  He turned the kennel a bit. So he could see if L.G. moved. The puppy didn’t seem to notice.

  Ten-thirty. Half-past midnight at home. His buddies would be at the club. Some who had wives would have them along. Others who had wives would be out alone. Everyone just understood that was how the world worked. Their world, at least.

  Da. Da da da. Da. Da da da. Da.

  He didn’t have any buddies in Shelter Valley. No one to call.

  His Harvard buddy, Drew, might be home. His wife was expecting any minute now, unless she’d already had the baby. He’d been staying close to home. And didn’t always join them on Sunday nights, anyway. The guy had it bad for his wife.

  Which was cool.

  Da. Da da da. Da. Da da da. Da.

  Picking up his smartphone, Josh scrolled through the lighted contact window on his LED screen.

  And, too late, remembered he’d deleted the list when he’d deleted his old life.

  He and the guys had visited an online chat room for hooking up when they’d been in high school. Just for kicks. With front-facing cameras and tablets and smartphones, he figured the experience was far more advanced these days than it had been back in the day when they’d had to gather around a webcam plugged into his computer.

  The idea, while tempting for a second, was one he turned down almost immediately. He was a grown man, not some know-it-all, spoiled teenager.

  Pushing speed dial, he listened to the ring on the other end and knew that his intended recipient would eventually pick up. It was part of what he paid her for, to take his calls, and keep him posted, too.

  “Mr. Redmond?”

  “Hi, Sara. Sorry to wake you.”

  “It’s okay, I napped when Missy did this afternoon. And tomorrow morning Carol will be here.”

  One of the two other full-time caregivers on Josh’s trust’s payroll. One of the two who, unlike Sara, lived outside the facility.

  “How was she today?”

  They both knew he wasn’t talking about Carol.

  “Same as always, Mr. Redmond. Same as she was yesterday when you called, and the day before that, and the day before that, too.”

  He got the picture.

  “Okay, well, let me know if anything changes. Call if she needs anything.” As an afterthought, he added, “Or if you do.”

  “I will. I swear to you, I’ll call. Now why don’t you try and trust me to do my job, to call like I said I will if anything changes, and get on with that new life of yours?”

  He didn’t reply. And didn’t hang up, either.

  “How are you settling in?” Sara’s voice came over the line a few seconds later.

  “Fine. Good. Tomorrow’s my first day on the job.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “I’m not worried about it.” But he was. Worried that he wouldn’t know how to be a worker bee.

  “You hook up with your family?” she asked next. He was surprised she knew about the Montfords. He must have mentioned them to her on one of his visits to Michelle.

  “You did say you had family out there, didn’t you?” she said into the silence that fell.

  He must have. Probably so that if his mother stopped by to see Michelle, Sara would uphold his story.
r />   “I did,” he said.

  “Well, that’s good, then.” She yawned. It was close to one in the morning in Boston.

  “I got a puppy.” He hadn’t even told his mother that. He’d been afraid it would make her think he’d lost his mind.

  “What kind?”

  “A Lab mix,” he said, repeating what he’d been told, as though he was as familiar as the next guy about the specifics of dog breeds. “He’s a little over ten pounds right now, but he’s going to be at least fifty.”

  “That’s good to hear, Mr. Redmond. A dog’ll be good for you.”

  He was glad she thought so. Sara yawned another time, and Josh rang off, promising not to call her again so late.

  She’d told him not to call her again at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DANA LIKED LILLIE HENDERSON on sight. The child life specialist was only a year or two older than she was, although, because she’d already been established in her career for seven years, she seemed light-years ahead of Dana.

  They met at the Shelter Valley Diner, and arrived at the same time, five minutes earlier than their agreed upon time. Lillie was the same height as Dana, but more filled out without being a pound overweight. Dana’s boniness was something she’d learned to live with a long time before.

  Walking together, they both migrated to the second available booth, not the first, and laughed as they both reached for the menu at the same time.

  Lillie’s hair—dark, like Dana’s, but a rich chocolate brown, instead of the drab color of hers—fell forward as she bent over the menu. Dana would have to spend an entire night in bed with little sponge rollers all over her head to get curls like Lillie’s.

  They ordered salads, grilled chicken and iced tea.

  “Let me guess,” Lillie said as they waited for lunch to arrive. “You were born in February, right?”

  “Nope, August.”

  “Well, then, we aren’t twins separated at birth.” The comment was offered with a smile, and Dana felt as if she’d known the other woman for years instead of minutes. Lillie had seen their similarities, too.