Some Guys Have All the Luck

by Deborah Cooke

  Cassie had no doubt that her mom had a map pinned to a wall somewhere inside the RV, with the states they’d visited colored in. She probably had a back-up one stashed at the house in case of emergency. Her mom had always loved lists and visible proof. If she showed the map to Cassie, Cassie knew she’d ask why they couldn’t just remember the places they’d been, and there would be another argument.

  She hadn’t missed those.

  She’d always been the one prepared to challenge or defy her mother. Some things didn’t change.

  The house looked different, but that was a good thing in Cassie’s view. Her younger sister had always been too ready to do exactly as their mom dictated. Cassie had wondered if anything would change when Ally took possession of the house or if it would become a shrine to their upbringing and their mom’s taste.

  Kudos to Ally for daring to change it. Cassie was glad the trim had been painted an actual color—pale yellow instead of the practical white it had always been, with some dark blue accents. She liked that there was a jumble of flowers in the garden. It looked a little bit wild, which was definitely a change. Her mom would probably be out thinning and weeding it at first light.

  There were wicker chairs on the porch, two of them rockers, which gave the house a new, welcoming air. Cassie smiled at the whimsical sign beside the front door and wondered if her talented sister had painted it. Then she rang the bell.

  “For heaven’s sake, Cassie, you don’t have to knock at your own house,” her mom said, opening the door. She didn’t look as if she’d aged one bit, and was just as trim and purposeful as ever.

  “It’s not my own house, though,” Cassie said as she stepped into the foyer. “It’s Ally’s house.”

  “Technicalities. You’re always harping on the technicalities.”

  “I don’t think it’s a technicality that Ally and Jonathan paid you all that money in exchange for the title to the house. That transaction makes it their house.”

  Her mother gave Cassie a stern survey. “Those boots aren’t very practical.”

  “No, but they’re fun. I like them.”

  “They remind me of the ones in Pretty Woman. No wonder Reid Jackson wanted to give you a ride.” Her mom glared at her. “What else did he want?” She lifted a brow. “A ride in return?”

  Cassie chose not to answer that. “Do you act as if this is still your house, Mom, even though you sold it to Ally and Jonathan?”

  Cassie heard her father chuckle from the living room. “That’s my girl,” he murmured and Cassie’s mom shot him a look.

  “Your father and I owned this house for thirty years...”

  “But you sold it,” Cassie said calmly, interrupting her mother. “If you’d sold it to a stranger, would you still just walk in the front door without knocking?” She could see Ally in the kitchen, looking as wary as she ever had when Cassie squared off against their mom.

  She also looked a bit thin.

  Strained.

  Unhappy.

  What was going on?

  Where was Jonathan?

  Ally and Cassie shared the same coloring but Cassie had always been taller, the big sister in more ways than one. She’d also always been the more assertive and confident sister, more outgoing, while Ally was quieter. She had the sudden sense that her sister might not have fought her own battles in Cassie’s absence, as she’d hoped, but had just started to lose.

  “That’s not the same thing, Cassie,” their mom said. “Ally doesn’t mind.”

  Cassie laughed. “Or she doesn’t want to tell you that she does. I’d mind. In fact, I’d change the locks and be sure you didn’t get a key.”

  “Well, fortunately, we didn’t sell it to you,” her mom snapped.

  “Never could have, seeing as it’s in Montrose River,” her dad contributed easily.

  “It could seriously impact the arrival of grandchildren,” Cassie noted to her mom. “That lack of privacy and all.” She saw Ally’s eyes widen and her mom catch her breath but figured they must have just had a disagreement about that before.

  It was her mother’s theme song, after all.

  She went to give her dad a kiss and he glanced at her boots, then met her gaze with a smile. “You and your dancing shoes. Good to see you again, honey.”

  “How was your drive today?” Cassie asked.

  “Not too bad. We had a long day yesterday, but made good time today.”

  “I thought you were arriving tomorrow.”

  “Your mom wanted to be back in town tonight,” her dad said mildly and returned to his newspaper. Cassie knew better than to suggest he could read the news online. He did what he did, and was content to let her mom do whatever she wanted, as long as she didn’t try to change him. Were all marriages reduced to that? She thought of Reid’s negotiations in an untimely moment and wondered.

  Her mom had retreated to the kitchen so Cassie followed. Ally was making coffee and their mom could have been standing guard.

  Maybe, just maybe, they could get through this weekend without reviewing all of the old battles.

  Or maybe just forget that one.

  Cassie was going to give it a try.

  “Hey Ally-cat,” she said, using an old nickname for her sister. “The house looks great. I love the garden.”

  Ally glanced over her shoulder with suspicion. “You do?”

  “Of course, I do. It looks fabulous. It must be a ton of work.”

  Their mom’s lips tightened, for some reason.

  Talk about returning to the past. Here Cassie was, defending her sister at every turn, just like old times.

  “It’s mostly perennials,” Ally said. “I do a bit of work every day.”

  “I’ll get out there and thin the beds in the morning,” their mom said.

  “Mom! It’s perfect just the way it is and, more importantly, it’s the way Ally wants it.” Cassie tried to soften her words with a smile. “Besides, you’re supposed to be retired.” Before her mom could say anything else, she turned back to Ally. “Did you paint the little Welcome sign?”

  Her sister blushed a little. “I did. There was a class at the library.”

  “I’ll bet yours was best. You always were so creative.” Cassie looked around the kitchen, nodding approval of the changes. “It looks so much bigger with everything white. Are those new cabinets or did you refinish the old ones?”

  “They’re new,” Ally admitted.

  “Unnecessary expense,” Cassie’s mom said with a sniff. “The others were perfectly good.”

  The sisters exchanged a glance of understanding.

  Sadly, that sense of rapport didn’t last.

  “But Ally wanted it this way and it’s her house.” Cassie ran an appreciative hand over the smooth marble counter. “It looks awesome, Ally.”

  “So much money,” their mom sniffed.

  Ally straightened before Cassie could say anything in her defense. “It doesn’t really matter if you like it, Cassie.” Her voice had tightened and Cassie braced herself for whatever her sister was going to say. Ally flung out a hand. “It doesn’t matter if you like anything that’s going on here. You left. You stayed away. Your opinion of the renovations or Mom having the keys or whatever is irrelevant.”

  Cassie blinked. “I was being nice.”

  “Trying something new?” Ally folded her arms across her chest and glared at her older sister. Sarcasm was definitely new for Ally and Cassie eyed her with uncertainty. “You can’t just walk back here after so many years and expect nothing to have changed.”

  “But Montrose River hasn’t changed!” Cassie said with a polite smile.

  “And maybe we haven’t either. Maybe you have. Maybe you don’t belong here anymore. Maybe you never did.” Ally took a step closer. “Maybe you should have just stayed in New York, since you like it there so well, and be Ms. Modern Success far far away.”

  Silence reigned in the kitchen and Cassie recognized the old dispute between herself and her mother couldn’t be
the root of all of this anger.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked cautiously.

  “Nothing was wrong until you walked through the door,” Ally said. There were tears rising in her eyes, and Cassie didn’t understand what was going on.

  She also knew that no one was going to tell her.

  Her mom was bristling with protectiveness, her gaze hard.

  “Well, I think the house looks great, even though my opinion doesn’t matter,” Cassie said, deliberately keeping her tone friendly. “And it’s good to see all of you looking so well. Sorry I missed Jonathan.”

  “Are you?” Ally said and folded her arms across her chest.

  “If it’s okay, I’ll come down tomorrow and ask Dad to show me his new wheels.” Cassie didn’t wait for a reply. “Right now, I need to get back to help Tori.”

  “Fine,” her sister said.

  “Fine,” her mother agreed.

  There were no hugs or kisses, no touching at all, no escort to the door. Cassie paused in the foyer, knowing they were watching her, and suggested to her dad that she come see the new RV the next day. He agreed amiably and buried himself in his newspaper again.

  Maybe he’d tell her more.

  Maybe not.

  Cassie glanced back toward the kitchen, caught her sister’s hard stare, and left. She hadn’t expected to be hugged but she felt like she’d been slapped. That was unexpected. Why did Ally dislike her so much?

  And where was Jonathan?

  Welcome home, she told herself as she tapped on Tori’s kitchen door. She just had to survive three days.

  At least no one had to worry about her rushing back to town again anytime soon.

  “Caught!”

  Reid tripped on the threshold to the back of the Shop ’n Save, the way he hadn’t in a long time. He’d heard that single word and it had stopped him short, just as it had twenty years before. He knew he was alone in the store and knew that his imagination was running wild, but still. Given that he was now seeing ghosts, he couldn’t keep himself from glancing toward the office that overlooked the store. He halfway expected to see Marty Blackford there, leveling a gun at his head.

  The office was empty.

  Of course.

  Marty had been pushing up daisies in the Montrose River cemetery for years and was unlikely to ever be back in the store again.

  Reid exhaled and pushed his hand through his hair. He leaned in the door frame, remembering that night as clearly as if it had just happened.

  * * *

  “I see you!” the man said, his voice wheezy but determined. There was a loud click as he removed the safety.

  Reid froze, his knife in his hand, and calculated the odds of the gun being loaded.

  It was that old guy, Marty, the one who owned the store.

  If he hadn’t had a gun, Reid would have run.

  Marty, to Reid’s surprise, chuckled from somewhere in the darkness. “It is loaded, and I’m a damn fine shot, so don’t be thinking that rushing me is a good plan.”

  Reid dropped the pack of cigarettes and spun to flee.

  The shot was fired over his shoulder, nearly nicking his ear. He dropped his knife in his surprise and it clattered on the floor in the darkened store.

  “And don’t be thinking that running is a better plan,” Marty said calmly. “I meant to miss you.”

  Reid stayed exactly where he was, his mind spinning with uncertainty.

  “Turn around to face me,” the older man said.

  Reid did as he was told, raising his hands. He had no idea what to expect but doubted it was going to be anything good.

  Marty waved the gun, indicating a chair. “Come right back in here and sit down,” he invited. “I want to talk to you.”

  Reid blinked, incredulous. “What?”

  “You heard me. You might be a lot of things, Reid Jackson, but you aren’t deaf and you aren’t stupid. Get over here and sit.”

  Reid looked around, wondering what he was missing. He saw the glint of his knife on the floor by the shelves and moved toward it. Another shot missed his outstretched hand, but only by a couple of inches.

  “Sit,” Marty repeated. “You can pick up your knife on your way out.”

  One thing Reid could say for his own old man: he might be crazy and he might be violent, but he didn’t use a gun. Reid appreciated that for the first time. He cautiously went to the office and sat where he’d been told to sit, and wondered what Marty was going to do.

  Marty did something completely unexpected.

  He put the gun down, but kept it in his hand.

  Reid watched it with concern.

  “So, you were going to steal a pack of cigarettes,” Marty said, his tone conversational. “And, bad luck, I caught you. There are several different things that can happen right now.”

  “We can forget I was ever here,” Reid suggested, finding his nerve now that it didn’t look as if he was going to be executed.

  “We could.” Marty nodded. “But I don’t see the point.”

  “The point?”

  “You won’t have your cigarettes. You probably won’t learn anything from this little exchange. You’ll either come back to try again, or try the same thing somewhere else.”

  Reid didn’t reply, because that was self-evident.

  “You like school?”

  “No.”

  “No surprise there. Your father didn’t much like it either. As I recall, he avoided it pretty well.”

  “So?” Reid bristled at any mention of his father.

  “So, you see where that got him in life. Rick Jackson was never stupid, but the only thing he’s accomplished in all his life is to have drunk more whiskey than should be humanly possible. It’s not much of an achievement. I doubt they’ll carve it on his headstone.”

  Reid eyed the older man and wondered where this was going. “So, you’re going to tell him about this?” he asked, hiding his terror of the prospect with bravado.

  Marty shook his head. “This is between you and me. You see, I’ve got this niece, maybe you know her. Cassie Wilson?”

  Reid nodded. “I’ve seen her,” he admitted, but no more than that.

  “And she can’t wait to get out of Montrose River.”

  Reid scoffed, his attitude returning. “Her and half the town.”

  “Ah, but she’s going places. She’s smart and she works hard and when Cassie leaves town, she’s never going to come back.”

  Reid wasn’t sure if that was an accusation. He’d tried to run away countless times since his mom had died. Once he even got as far as the interstate, but he always came back when he got cold or tired or hungry.

  And then he got the crap beaten out of him, as a lesson. His father always reminded him that he would never achieve anything on his own. He couldn’t even manage to run away from home, which made him a huge loser.

  He glared at Marty. “Do you have a point, old man?”

  “I do, because what Cassie hates about Montrose River is that everyone becomes their parents. My father took over this grocery store from his father, and now I run it. I stayed in the house I was born in. There’s continuity and there’s comfort in that. But Cassie says that people don’t choose to become their parents. They’re forced to do it, because we don’t give them any options. And I’m thinking she’s got that right. Look at you, for example. Everyone expects you to grow up just like your dad. You’re busy spitting in the eye of anyone who shows you any kindness, because you don’t know what to do with that, thanks to Rick being such a mean bastard. Adversity is what you understand. It’s what you’ve been taught.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, old man,” Reid said with a sneer, although he was shocked that Marty was so close to the truth.

  “I know a lot about you, so we’re going to try an experiment.”

  “What kind of experiment?”

  “I’m going to forget that you tried to steal from me, but only if you come to work for me.”

&n
bsp; Reid was dismissive. “You don’t want a thief working for you.”

  “No, I don’t. But you didn’t actually get away with your smokes, so you didn’t steal them. And I think that if you have the chance to earn the money for your cigarettes or whatever else it is you want, that might give you some choices.”

  “What if I don’t want choices?”

  “Then you’re dumber than I think you are,” Marty said bluntly. He reached for the phone. “I’ll just call the sheriff and we’ll forget the whole thing. Your dad had been arrested a couple of times by the time he was your age. Maybe you just want to catch up.” He started to push in the numbers.

  Reid swallowed. He tried to be tough. He thought of his father’s inevitable reaction and couldn’t face it. “No!” he cried when Marty had just pushed the last number.

  “I thought so,” Marty said, then straightened as a voice came through the receiver. “No, gosh, Josie, I’m sorry. I dialed the wrong number. I meant to call my sister. You’re right. No harm done, but I’m sorry to have troubled you.” Marty put down the receiver and eyed Reid with satisfaction.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Reid said, feeling a bit cornered. “You don’t want me working here.”

  “Yes, I do, because here’s the thing. I don’t have a son. There’s no one to step into my shoes and take over the Shop ’n Save after me, because I didn’t get married. Running a grocery store isn’t glamorous, but it’s a good living. People always need to eat. I’m not rich but I’m comfortable. A man can go a long way with a roof over his head and three square meals a day in his belly, with good honest work to do six days a week.”

  “Maybe I don’t want that.”

  “You want to become your dad, then you just head out that door.” Marty lifted a hand and pointed. “Don’t forget the cigarettes and your knife, and I’ll send the sheriff right along after you. Him and your dad can catch up on old times.”

  Reid fidgeted, feeling that he’d been outmaneuvered. “Why would you do this?”

  “Because I think Cassie might be right. I think we did all expect your father to become what he did, and I wonder if it might have worked out differently if he’d had other options than becoming what we all expected him to be.” Marty cleared his throat. “Don’t think you’re going to come in here and get paid for doing nothing, either. I expect you to be clean and to work hard. I expect you to be polite to the customers and to be on time. Two weeknights and all day Saturday, every week.” He named an hourly wage.