Mouths gaped as Jo ran up to welcome the new arrival with a huge smile, ushering her to a small chrome table with a RESERVED sign. Amy clenched her teeth and returned to mashing the new batch of potatoes with the antiquated mixer.
It was almost eight and Flint and his sons were in the back room helping the band set up chairs. The show wouldn’t have tables for drinks tonight. Fortunately for everyone, all the dinner tables still held paying customers.
“Who’s the babe?” George Bob whispered from his seat at the counter where the single diners had gathered. “Jo must know her.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder. Jo and Elise were in deep conversation. This must be about the lawsuit, not Evan. Amy tried not to look too relieved. “That’s Jo’s lawyer,” she murmured back, adding another cup of cream to the potatoes. “You’ll have to ask her what it’s about.”
George snorted and cleaned his plate with his fork. “Maybe Jo’s suing the mill for closing. Or she wants to buy it, paint it pink, and start a chicken farm.”
Amy reached over to pat his hand. “You’re better off without her, Georgie. Why don’t you go over and say hi to Sally? She’s looking lonely.”
Amy checked on Jo again. Instead of looking excited and triumphant, her sister looked pale and worried. Amy did her best not to shake in her shoes, but the mixer in her hand spluttered and died. She wanted to heave it across the room but didn’t dare. “Blasted ancient equipment anyway,” she said in reply to George Bob’s knowing look. Jo had half the town believing her superstition about Amy’s ability to kill machinery.
Removing the beaters from the bowl, Amy found a whisk and splattered potatoes over half the sink with her efforts.
Their mother’s health could depend on Jo winning that lawsuit. Amy had to set every penny aside for the day Evan walked out. She couldn’t pay her mother’s bills anymore. She was reduced to hoping Flint made money so he might offer her a job.
She was wiping up splashed potatoes when Jo slipped behind the counter and whispered, “Elise wants to speak with you.”
“About what?” Nervously, Amy reached for a towel. “What did she say to you? You look like a ghost.”
Jo forced a smile. “The record publisher called her. Elise thinks Randy may have caved under our evidence, but they’re not admitting it yet. They’ve talked to the lawyer who drew up Flint and Randy’s contract, and they’re threatening countersuit unless we settle out of court.”
The newly replaced lightbulb over the stove shattered. “You’ve got faulty wiring,” Amy complained, picking up the shards. “What does a countersuit mean?”
Jo shrugged as if her whole future didn’t matter. “That Flint has to hire a lawyer to defend his rights against me, Randy, his publisher, and everyone else.”
“Then why does Elise want to talk to me instead of Flint?”
“I think it’s about Evan. Are you okay? Want me to go with you?”
Amy shook her head, handed Jo her towel, and chin up, marched over to Elise’s table and sat down.
“I wish this place served alcohol,” Elise said sympathetically. “I never wanted to be a divorce lawyer for just this reason.”
Amy closed her eyes and pretended she didn’t see the sympathy in Elise’s eyes. “I moved out of his bed and upstairs with the kids last week, and I’m not sure he even noticed. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already suspect.”
“I brought you a list of the best divorce lawyers in the state. I advise you to hire one immediately. Your husband’s already talking to the top firm in Charlotte,” Elise said softly.
Amy swallowed hard and fought back tears. No matter how soft Elise spoke, it didn’t alter the fact that ten years of marriage were sliding down the drain, and for no good reason that she could see. The kids would be devastated.
She’d wanted to be brave like Jo and stand up and fight for her marriage, and this is what it had come to. A whimper. “He’s seeing her?” she whispered.
Elise nodded and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. I wish I was trained in mending marriages, but that’s not how the law works.”
“It’s okay,” Amy murmured, trying to reassure Elise. That had always been her place in life—taking care of others. What would she do now? “I think I knew it was over anyway. I just hoped—”
But she couldn’t hope anymore. Evan had a lover. With a cry of defeat, she pushed back her chair and ran for the restroom.
The restroom was already occupied.
Sobbing, she turned and fled through the back, past Flint, past the ticket taker, and out the door. The alley was already filling with people who’d come to hear the band. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
With a wail of misery, she fled up the stairs to Jo’s place.
***
Jo had already deserted the counter and was racing after Amy when Flint intercepted her in the hallway between the café and back room.
“What’s wrong with Amy?” he demanded, catching her arms. “Did one of my customers insult her?”
His fingers dug into her arms and concern lined his forehead. Jo wanted to kiss him for worrying about her sister, but she didn’t have time. “No, she was talking to Elise. I’m sorry, I have to go.” She ran off, leaving him to deal with the café.
Standing worriedly at the entrance, Peggy pointed her toward the stairs.
“Find someone else to take tickets,” Jo yelled as she ran past. “Help Flint out front.” She didn’t wait to see if the teenager obeyed.
Rushing in, Jo found Amy sprawled across the couch, weeping her heart out. Not knowing whether to cry or curse, she wet a washcloth with cold water and took a seat on the sofa cushion at Amy’s head.
“We’ll work it out,” was all she knew to say, wiping at her sister’s tears.
They’d climbed mountains and scaled obstacles all their lives. They could do it again. But when would they ever be allowed a little happiness?
When Amy gave a helpless cry and struggled to sit up, Jo hauled her into her arms and offered her shoulder. She didn’t have a word of comfort left in her.
Jo’s heart ached for her sister. She knew all about the devastation of heart break, that’s why she had to think for Amy right now. She had to be the glue that held the family together until Amy realized she was too good for a jerk like Evan. Amy had been their caretaker for years. It was Jo’s turn.
And for a change, she might even be in a position to help. If Evan was leaving, Amy would need a job. The children would need babysitters. Her mother would have no one to fall back on for emergency expenses.
From what Elise had told her tonight, Jo could provide it all—if she dropped her claim to Randy’s songs and accepted a lump sum cash settlement for more money than she’d ever be worth in this lifetime.
All she had to do was forget her dream of a career that would give her recognition and respect. No big deal.
***
Watching the last of his dinner customers wander toward the rocking chords of the band in the back room, Flint jiggled his keys in his hands. He was aware of the perfumed lawyer standing shoulder to shoulder with him at the front door as he closed up for the night, but his mind had traveled to the women upstairs. He didn’t have room left in his head for the slick city lawyer. He’d had about enough of cities and lawyers anyway.
“I appreciate the offer,” Elise was telling him, “but Knoxville isn’t that far.”
He dragged his attention back to the moment, wishing he had Jo’s ability to think three things at once. “My place is just a mile away. You shouldn’t be driving that mountain alone at night. I’ll be staying here.” He didn’t know where, but he would feel like an asshole if he packed up his kids and went home, leaving the women crying upstairs. It just didn’t feel right.
She shook her head at the keys he offered, but regarded him with interest. “Jo hasn’t talked to you yet, has she?”
Flint shrugged, even if he felt like flinching at the impact of her question
. “I reckon I know what you told her. It’s not as if I didn’t expect it.”
“You know how the business works. This case could drag on forever with everyone suing everyone else. You’ll need a lawyer separate from RJ’s to defend your interests.”
“I’ve talked to a few,” he admitted. “I’d have to sell this place to pay their fees. I’d rather just give it to Jo.” He worked up an imitation of his old smile. “Maybe she’ll hire me as short order cook.”
“You’re an unusual man, Flynn Clinton,” she said thoughtfully.
He didn’t think he saw the usual predatory interest in the way Elise said that. He really was losing his old charm, and he didn’t much care. “And you’re an unusual lawyer,” he retaliated, figuring he had nothing to lose. “Not many would come all this way to talk to a couple of backwoods clients.”
He thought he saw something raw disappear behind the smile she carefully arranged on her lips. “I have my reasons. Call it God or fate or the stars, but sometimes I really believe Someone is pulling our strings. Goodnight.”
She brushed past in an airy flutter of silk and scent that had no effect on him. The music in the back didn’t call to him either, not while his heart was this heavy.
Staring thoughtfully at his keys, Flint debated his next move.
With a will of their own, his boots carried him out the front door.
He didn’t know if he believed in God or fate or astrology, but some things were purely inevitable.
***
Jo looked up the instant Flint walked in. Amy had dried her tears and washed her face and was making noises about going home. Jo couldn’t let her go alone. The look on Flint’s craggy face said he understood without being told.
“Why don’t I pick up the kids and take them to my place?” he suggested. “You two stay here and take a girls’ night.”
Jo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the stiff way he made his magnanimous offer. For a man who doubted his parenting abilities, he’d just slit his wrist and let it bleed by offering to look after two little ones. How could she not love a man willing to make that sacrifice? Louisa still wore diapers at night.
“That’s generous of you, Flint, thank you, but I can make it home all right. Did we have enough food for everybody?” Hastily wiping the last tear from her eye, Amy rose with a briskness of purpose.
“I made ’em hamburgers when we ran out of meat loaf. There’s only a bit of lasagna left. We did okay. Y’know, you’re the second woman who’s turned me down tonight. I’m thinking I’m losing my touch.”
He didn’t look too sorry about it. He lounged there with his shoulder against the door frame, looking at home in his boots. A good thing he hadn’t worn his expensive tie and had discarded his fancy jacket. He had grease stains on his shirt from the folding chairs.
“You offered to take Elise home with you, too?” Jo teased in an effort to match his attempt at lightening the black cloud in here.
“I offered her the house anyway. Think she’d have stayed if I offered more?” Despite his self-mockery, he asked Jo silent questions over Amy’s head.
She handed him the final piece of her heart right then. Any man who could worry over her sister and the lawyer who was suing him had to possess the Right Stuff.
“Elise figured I’d come after her with a butcher knife if you did that,” Jo said carelessly, as if she wasn’t admitting that she wouldn’t share him. “She’s not dumb.”
A slow smile creased the corners of Flint’s mouth, and he studied her with appreciation. “Yeah, my luck doesn’t run to dumb women these days.”
He took the car keys from Amy’s hand when she tried to pass him. “And smart women don’t drive mountains at night after tippling Jo’s beer. You’ve taken care of my kids and me this week. It’s my turn.”
Jo’s jealousy kicked in as Flint took Amy’s elbow the way he always took hers. Maybe her sister and Flint were made for each other, two lonely souls seeking help with their kids, but she wasn’t feeling that generous right now. “Can I go, too?” she asked, trying not to sound needy.
The heated look Flint sent her told her all she needed to know.
“You don’t want to raise a little hell downstairs?” he asked, raising his eyebrows to show he understood what Elise had told her.
He knew. He knew he was losing it all, and despite that, he was giving her room to celebrate the riches Elise had told her about.
Celebrating the ability to buy all the Jimmy Choos her closet could hold just didn’t hold the appeal it should. “I think hell has been sufficiently raised for one evening. I’d rather make it go away.”
She grabbed her purse and following Amy’s muttered protests, turned out her lights and shut the door.
Twenty-five
Sitting in a row of folding chairs in the back of the café while the town council discussed the concert that was only two weeks away, Flint thought he understood how Amy blew out light bulbs. If something didn’t explode soon, he might.
“Muffins,” Jo hissed from his right, leaning around him to talk to Amy on his left. Her breast brushed his arm, and blood rushed straight to his groin in response. He tried adding up the long empty nights since they’d had sex.
Not since the arrival of his sons. There were too many things happening at once, and he couldn’t dump Adam and Johnnie on strangers so he could scratch his itch. Not that he ought to be thinking about itches with a woman who was suing him for what little he was worth, much less one who made him think of a lifetime of morning coffee over sunny breakfast tables.
“Not enough ovens for baking,” Amy murmured back, learning around him. “We could sell chair covers,” she suggested.
Flint hadn’t a clue what they were discussing. He was desperately attempting to focus on the stage. It looked like the whole damned town had turned out. And all he could think of was the sexy scent emanating from the woman wiggling restlessly at his side. Jo had been jumpier than a hoppy toad ever since she’d told him about her meeting with Elise.
He couldn’t say he was resigned to losing his restaurant to pay lawyers. The future looked damned black if he had time to think about it.
Fortunately, he hadn’t had two minutes to call his own since the Barn Boys had decided to make Northfork their charity of the year. Announcing they’d organize a “Mill-Aid” concert had turned the town on its head. And shook out all their brains, from the looks of it, Flint concluded.
The future of Northfork’s inhabitants looked bleaker than Flint’s unless the concert generated a whopping lot of cash. And cash didn’t guarantee the court would let the town buy the bankrupt mill. Losing his café lost its importance in the sum of the economic catastrophe facing all the unemployed mill families. And still they all enthusiastically turned out to help with the concert.
“Booths along the drive,” Jo whispered across him, while up in front, the mayor described the events leading up to this town meeting.
“We can use the outside electric lines from the Christmas light display!” Amy cried excitedly, causing a few warning frowns and hushes around them.
To Flint’s immense relief, the sisters straightened up and faced forward at whatever decision they’d reached. He was swimming in perfume and frustration and couldn’t be responsible for his actions much longer.
He scanned the room to locate his boys in a corner with a group of other kids their age, passing headphones back and forth. He tried not to imagine how many royalties they’d stolen from other musicians with their music habit. One of these days he’d have lots of spare time to investigate their disk and make a list of people he owed.
Not that he could pay anyone back in the foreseeable future.
“The bankruptcy court has agreed to withhold disposition of assets until we have time to gather our resources,” the mayor was saying.
Flint knew all this. He’d attended all the Chamber meetings, heard all the arguments. He was more than willing to do his part to help out.
He jus
t didn’t see how the town buying the mill would save him or his future.
“With the aid of government grants and loans, the proceeds from the Mill-Aid concert, and a lot of hard work from everyone present, we have a chance to bid on the mill and save our jobs.”
A cheer rocked the roof. Everyone in here had heard all of this in one form or another over the past weeks. Flint figured this was more pep rally than town meeting.
“Mama needs to borrow Adam and Johnnie,” Jo whispered in his ear.
Her breath against his skin tingled his spine, and he lost what concentration he possessed. “Why?” he growled back.
“Clear out the barn on her place so Ina and the others can set up more cutting tables.” She snaked her arm around his and trailed a pink-painted fingernail up the inside of his bare forearm, sizzling his skin. “And to help move all those heavy bolts of fabric.”
He hoped she wasn’t asking more than her touch was telling him. The kids needed to learn to help others. The exercise would be good for them. But his mind swept straight past those practicalities to other consequences of loaning out his kids. “When does she need them and what will you be doing then?”
Jo’s sultry smile warmed all the cold places in his soul, and his inner Neanderthal roared in triumph. He craved Jo more than music.
That thought didn’t rock his socks as it ought. He couldn’t even blame Jo for wanting a future for herself outside of this town, so he knew he was a desperate man.
“I’d rather be anywhere than at Mama’s with all her cackling cronies,” she murmured, ignoring the applause around them as the mayor increased the level of his rah-rah speech. “Tonight?”
“Tonight,” he agreed without hesitation. He had a list of phone calls to make for the music committee, the lawsuit his lawyer had sent to read through, and bills to pay, but they could all wait. “You’ll be at your mother’s when I drop off the boys?”
It was almost five now. Flint figured he could feed them and have them delivered by six if necessary. His pulse was tripping so erratically he’d have a heart attack if getting Jo into bed took any longer.
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