by Meg Maxwell
“Seems hard to imagine a man leaving his family to go live in a bunkhouse,” Olivia said.
“I know.”
Minutes later they were back in Carson’s SUV and driving over to the rodeo. There weren’t any events going on right now, so the place was pretty deserted except for employees. Carson parked and they wound their way over to the barns and walked through the field. When they passed a couple men, Carson asked if they knew “a Steve Johnson, late twenties,” and one of the guys pointed to a man washing down a bull up ahead. Carson checked his phone, sliding through photos. Olivia could see it was the same guy.
“Are you going to talk to him?” she asked.
He shook his head. “My job is to find him. I need to let my client know I’ve done so, and then we can talk about next steps. If I go up to Johnson and introduce myself and let him know his son hired me to find him, that he just wants to see him, Johnson may bolt. I can’t risk that.”
Olivia nodded, her heart heavy. She crossed her arms over her chest as they walked back to his car, suddenly cold despite the warm afternoon.
“You okay?” he said as he opened her car door for her.
“I’m glad you found him and that it was easier than finding my aunt has been. I’m happy for your nine-year-old client. I guess I’m thinking about my own dad,” she admitted. “My mother told him she was pregnant with his child, and he was gone the next day, never seen or heard from again. I’ve always known not to take it personally—I mean, it’s not like he knew me, right? But still. I had a father for that space of time and he chose not to take on that title. I just don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it, either, Liv,” he said, and she was struck by the nickname, that he felt close enough to her to use it. “My dad didn’t leave us but he certainly wasn’t part of the family. I never got that, either. I can’t imagine not being there for Danny, being very present and active in his life.”
“Good,” she said, reaching up and touching his shoulder, his navy blue Henley shirt warm from the sun.
He put his hand over hers and tilted her chin up with his finger and then kissed her. She closed her eyes, losing herself in how sweet it felt, how good. Her knees felt slightly shaky and she held on to him, wanting to stay in his arms forever.
But his phone rang.
“Blasted timing,” he said, smiling at her. He glanced at the phone. “My dad. He’s watching Danny so I’d better take this.” He answered the call and listened for a minute, then explained to Olivia that his dad said he took Danny out for gelato at the new place that opened in Oak Creek and there was a hair salon right next to it. A stylist with auburn hair, green eyes and a tattoo on her arm was blow-drying someone’s hair right by the window. “Does your aunt have a tattoo on her arm?”
“She didn’t back then, but she might have gotten one.”
“Dad,” he said into the phone, “why not just go inside and ask her if her name is Sarah?” He listened for a moment. “Okay. We’re on our way.” He put down the phone and turned to Olivia. “Looks like we’re going to Oak Creek to see if this woman is your aunt,” Carson said. “For some reason, my dad doesn’t want to ask her himself. I’m not sure what’s going on with him.”
Edmund Ford hadn’t wanted to see a photo of Sarah Mack, though Olivia had offered to show him one. He’d said he wanted to be surprised, that he didn’t need to know what she looked like until he laid eyes on her for the first time, that he’d feel something in his heart the moment he saw his Sarah and that was all he needed to go on.
“Case of the nerves, maybe?” Olivia said. “It could very well be her. Right next door to where we grew up.”
Olivia’s hope was back.
* * *
It took an hour, but they finally arrived in Oak Creek. Carson’s dad had taken Danny to the playground in the interim and the plan was to meet back at the bench in front of the salon at 4:15 p.m. Edmund and Danny hadn’t arrived yet.
Carson peered in the big bay window of the salon, Delia’s Hair and Day Spa, but the glare from the sun made it difficult to see inside.
“This is one of the most expensive salons in the area,” Olivia said. “But surely your dad called here when he first began his search, if not visited for one of his seven haircuts. And you said you called all the local salons to ask if any Sarahs worked there.”
“Your aunt may have changed her name entirely. Maybe that’s why she’s been so hard to find. And who knows—maybe this stylist he noticed today wasn’t working the day he came in to see if anyone matched the description.”
Because of the setting sun and the glare likely streaming inside, the shades lining the windows had been lowered, but Carson could see a tanned arm with many silver bangle bracelets moving and a hand wielding a blow-dryer, while a woman sat in a big silver chair.
“Dada!”
Carson glanced left and there was Danny on his dad’s shoulders as they headed toward the bench.
“That’s the second time today I’ve seen Danny on the shoulders of a Ford,” Olivia said to Carson, smiling at the pair as they approached.
“Hi, Liva!” Danny said, holding out his arms.
Carson glanced at Olivia, whose expression told him that her heart had just melted into a puddle. Danny had that effect on people.
Edmund effortlessly lifted Danny off his shoulders and handed him to Olivia, who scooped him into a hug.
“Meat song!” Danny said.
Olivia laughed. “How about one verse now and then the rest on the way home?”
“Top ’getty,” Danny sang and started to giggle.
Now it was Carson’s turn to laugh. Olivia sat down on the bench, Danny cuddled close against her chest, and she started to sing-whisper about a meatball all covered in cheese.
“Okay, now we have to go see something inside this place,” she told Danny, “but after, I’m going to sing the rest and you can help me sing it.”
“Cheese!” Danny sang.
Olivia laughed and stood back up, Danny in her arms. “Edmund, may I ask why you didn’t want to go in and ask her name?”
Edmund took a breath and let it out. “Because...well, I did go in and I looked right at her and she does have lovely green eyes. But—” He stopped, as if weighing something, thinking something over.
“But what, Dad?” Carson asked.
“I looked right at that woman with her auburn hair and her green eyes and her tattoo and I didn’t feel a thing,” he said, disappointment clouding his features. “Madam Miranda told me that when I see my Sarah, I’d know it. I didn’t know anything when I looked at this stylist. I didn’t feel anything at all.”
Carson could have done a cartwheel. “Dad, of course you didn’t feel anything. Why would you feel the earth move and your heart start beating like a teenager over a total stranger? Like I’ve been telling you for weeks now, it’s all just make-believe. Nice to hear but with no basis in reality.”
His father’s expression—and Olivia’s—told him he might have gone a little too far. Dammit.
“Dad, I just mean that you get your life back,” he said quickly. “Olivia gets her aunt back. Everything goes back to normal.”
“Normal?” Edmund repeated, glaring at Carson. “How dare you,” he added on a harsh whisper, mindful of his grandson. “I like my prediction. And I intend to see it fulfilled. With or without you.”
Olivia stepped forward, Danny in her arms, the boy looking from his father to his grandfather. “Why don’t we go in,” she said to Carson. “And see if it’s my aunt.” Olivia reached out her arms to transfer Danny to his grandfather, whose expression softened the moment he held the boy. “Danny, I can’t wait to sing you the rest of the song! Your dad and I are going to go inside this shop but we’ll be back in a minute.”
Edmund turned away and began pointing to cars. “
What color is that one, Danny?”
“Blue!” Danny said.
“Dad, I—” Carson began. But what was he going to say? If it was Sarah Mack inside, she would be just a stranger to Edmund. Was his father really expecting to be shot with Cupid’s arrow and to fall instantly in love? How could his dad really put so much stock in a fortune? Carson didn’t get it.
His father didn’t even turn back around. He held up a hand in Carson’s direction, then faced Olivia. “Please let me know if it’s your aunt.”
“I will,” she said, shooting Carson a death glare before walking up the three steps to the front door of the salon.
As they entered, he felt Olivia’s frown, felt her entire body turn inward, which meant the stylist was not her aunt. But she was a green-eyed hairstylist—that he could see with his own eyes—and her name was Sarah, evident from the engraved silver name tag pinned to her sleek black bolero jacket. She had three visible tattoos, wrist, arm and a small one behind the left ear, a starfish, if he was seeing correctly at this slight distance. She could easily have another on her ankle, which was covered by shiny black glued-on pants.
“She’s not my aunt,” Olivia whispered, “but I didn’t think she would be.”
Carson stared at her. “Because the moment my father does encounter your aunt, you expect him to have hearts shooting out of his chest like the love-struck raccoon on the cartoon Danny watches?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s not my aunt.”
“Your mother never told my father that the Sarah of his prediction was your aunt. Just that she was a green-eyed hairstylist named Sarah with a particular tattoo. Since that tattoo is of common symbols of the trade, this very woman herself might have that same tattoo. Your mother might not have been talking about her sister at all. This woman could be my father’s predicted bride.”
She shook her head as though that was ridiculous. “Carson, come on.”
“Excuse me,” Carson said to the stylist. “We’re looking for a specific stylist who works here named Sarah, but we were told she’d have a tattoo on her ankle of a blow-dryer and brush.”
The woman smiled. “That’s me.” She leaned down and began lifting the hem of her pants on her left leg.
Victory! Yes! This was the predicted green-eyed hairstylist named Sarah with the tattoo. And his father felt zippo, nothing, nada! It was all a dumb little game and it was over. His father would be disappointed, sure, but now that he knew he did want love in his life, he could look for someone he liked—instead of someone a “fortune-teller” told him he’d like.
“I think we’re done here,” Carson whispered to Olivia. But as the stylist continued to roll up her pants, a tattoo taking up half her calf began to reveal itself of black blow-dryer and a black brush. Shoot. Dammit. “What color did you say that blow-dryer and brush were?” he added to Olivia.
“The blow-dryer is hot pink and the brush is silver,” Olivia said. “And the tattoo is very small and just above the ankle bone.”
“Guess I’m not your Sarah then,” the woman said and went back to blow-drying her customer.
He was glum. Olivia was glum.
And through the door, he could see that his father had Danny up on his shoulders and was pointing out the different kinds of cars that were parked.
Instead of waiting with bated breath for them to come out, to learn if the woman was his predicted great love, his dad was focused on Danny. That was the man he’d become.
Suddenly Carson felt terrible about hoping to disappoint his father, about hoping this woman he felt nothing for, had no attraction to, would be his predicted great love.
What the hell was wrong with him? Was this the kind of father he wanted to be?
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
“Well, what’s the verdict?” Edmund asked as Carson stepped outside. “From your expression, Carson, I’m hopeful that she’s Olivia’s aunt. You look...disappointed.”
Knife. Twist. “She’s not Olivia’s aunt,” he said. “She’s not your predicted second great love.”
He watched relief cross his father’s features, and then realization of some kind that Carson must have turned some figurative corner about the whole thing. He hadn’t, not about the prediction and fortune-telling.
“I do want you to be happy, Dad,” he said.
Edmund clapped him on the back. “I’m glad to hear that.”
So why did Carson feel so...conflicted? What was burning in his gut? Something didn’t feel right. Something felt very wrong.
Olivia finally came down the stairs, disappointment etched on her face, and he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and assure her again that they’d find Sarah Mack. As he took a step toward her, Danny said, “Liva!”
Olivia’s entire face brightened. She rushed down the steps to Danny and beamed at him.
His dad put Carson’s son before his own feelings. Olivia put his son before her own feelings.
It was time for Carson to start putting others before his own cynical heart.
But the more he watched Olivia sing the meatball song and then one about an itsy-bitsy spider as she made spiders out of her fingers, the more he realized this was all going to be over be soon and she’d be out of their lives.
He always put Danny before himself. Which meant saving Danny from another woman in his life walking away. Once Carson found Sarah Mack, Olivia would go her way, Carson would go his.
Except if her aunt was really her father’s predicted love, Sarah Mack would be part of their lives. Which meant Olivia would be, too.
Suddenly this was getting more complicated. Either way, someone was going to get hurt, and he wasn’t sure who.
His phone rang. The Blue Gulch PD, who often hired him to help out on cases.
“Carson, this is Detective Nick Slater. You asked me to let you know if a Sarah Mack came up in the system. I was just looking for leads on a suspect and I noticed a woman named Sarah Mack was stopped for a traffic violation on Blue Gulch Street at three o’clock today.”
Huh. “Date of birth and address?”
Slater read off the information. The DOB matched the right age for Olivia’s aunt. And even if she went by a different name professionally, the name Sarah Mack was on her license. Unfortunately, the address on the license was her old place in Blue Gulch; she clearly didn’t live in Blue Gulch anymore.
“What was the violation? Speeding?” Carson asked.
“Actually, she was going too slow. Five miles per hour in a thirty zone. She had people honking at her. She was let go with a warning.”
“I owe you one, Detective Slater. Thanks.”
“You’ve done so much for the Blue Gulch PD. It’s my pleasure to help you out.” Slater was married to one of the Hurleys of Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen, the family who owned the food truck that Olivia worked in.
After getting the make, model and year of the car, plus the plate number, Carson put his phone away. He looked at Olivia, now singing a different song to Danny a few feet away on the bench in front of the salon.
He was afraid to get her hopes up again. But he had a feeling that he would be reuniting Olivia with her aunt today.
If Sarah Mack was still in Blue Gulch, the car would be easy to spot. Not many old yellow VW Beetles on the road these days. If she’d come and gone, that was another story. But it was just a matter of time—not if.
“Hey, you two,” Carson said, heading over. “I’ve got some news you’re both gonna like.”
Chapter Eight
Olivia felt it in her bones; she would be seeing her aunt very soon. She just knew it. But as quickly as the good feeling had come, it faded to nothing. She shivered inside Carson’s SUV despite the unusually warm February day.
Edmund had taken a sleepy Danny back
to his house for a nap, and Olivia and Carson headed over to Blue Gulch to search Blue Gulch Street and the one hotel and B and B for a yellow VW bug. Her aunt hadn’t had that car when she lived in Blue Gulch, but the style of car sounded like something her aunt would like.
“The traffic stop was two hours ago?” Olivia asked, craning her neck to look for the car as Carson turned onto Blue Gulch Street, the main drag of town where the shops and restaurants were, including the Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen food truck. “I wonder if she’s still in town. Maybe she just passed through.” Huh. Maybe she wouldn’t be seeing her aunt so soon, after all.
“There’s only reason someone goes five miles an hour on the main road in town,” Carson said. “Because she’s looking for someone on the street or for someone in store windows.”
“You think my aunt was looking for me? Why not call? Why not come by? Why not leave a note in the mailbox?”
“Maybe she just looks for you,” he said. “Maybe she drives through Blue Gulch often, hoping to spot you, just get a glimpse of you.”
“But that would mean she still cares about me,” Olivia said.
“I’m sure she does care. Sometimes, people leave your life for reasons that have nothing to do with you. They’re consumed by something else and it drives them away.”
“Like your nine-year-old client’s father, most likely,” she said.
“Exactly. I always say I don’t get it, but I guess I do. I mean, I understand, intellectually, why some people walk out on their lives and families. But I’ll never get it emotionally.”
She nodded. “You look left, I’ll look right.” But nowhere that she could see, on the street or parked in the spots, was a yellow Beetle.
“You have no idea at all what caused the estrangement between your mother and aunt?” Carson asked.