by Susan Schild
Chin in hand, Linny stared out the window at the sea of snowy cotton framed by an azure sky, and just smiled. She wasn’t going to let another addition to the debt column bother her, she just wasn’t. Glancing up, she studied her Sweet Dream List, and made another decision. Pulling up the e-mail that she’d been afraid to respond to, she wrote:
Robert,
So appreciate your thinking of me, but a move to Texas isn’t going to work for me.
I’m working as an independent trainer now, and I’d love for you to keep me in mind if you need help between now and the time you get the position filled. Here is the link to my website.
Again, thanks for thinking of me, and stay in touch.
Linny
Finger floating over the Send button, her stomach revved as she realized what a risk she was taking turning down the job. Her class at Lil’s might flop. Amy Sanders might never send her any more work, and all her leads might peter out. She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. In a soul-deep part of her, she knew this was the work she was supposed to be doing. She’d figure out a way to make it happen.
Glancing at the Lucky Duck’s amber eyes, she murmured, “Send me luck, sweets.” She hit Send. Leaning back in her chair, she exhaled. It was done. Staring out the window, she saw the side field of soy beans was starting to turn gold. A flock of honking Canadian geese flew overhead, and she hurried outside to watch them. Calling loudly to one another in their perfect V formation, she could hear the quiet whirring of their wings. She sighed, touched by their beauty.
Back at her desk, she gazed at the carved mallard, her eyes narrowing as she contemplated Buck’s good luck ritual. Why was he so obsessed with that duck? Picking it up, she turned it over it, felt the curve of its head, and admired its tranquil expression and the rich hues of its carved and painted feathers. Why did Buck call the decoy a Lucky Duck? She sat up straighter in her chair, and examined it more closely.
Tapping quickly onto eBay, her breathing grew shallow when she saw the starting prices for some of the vintage, Chesapeake Bay decoys carved by apparently renowned carvers with names like Lars Peterson and Sheffield Hartman. Hurriedly, she examined the markings of the Lucky Duck, compared it to similar ones, and breathed out, disappointed. Hers was the Plain Jane of decoys, and might bring her a few hundred dollars, at best. She blew out a sigh of frustration. There had to be something special about this duck. Leaning back in her chair, the wood of the decoy warm in her hands, Linny remembered Buck’s paranoia about paper trails, and his fascination with movies about espionage and CIA capers that involved secret clues. She flashed back to the Barbasol can sliding open to reveal her mother’s roll of cash. Her heart started a staccato beat of excitement. Sitting up straight, Linny carefully ran her fingers around the entire Lucky Duck. All the carving felt smooth. She pulled a magnifying glass from the desk drawer, held the decoy closer to the desk lamp, and peered at the carved pin feathers on the underside of the decoy. She gasped when she saw a tiny straight line among the curved strokes. Scarcely breathing, Linny pushed back and forth around the lined area, and heard a faint click as a tiny compartment slid open. Linny peered inside. Fingers trembling, she turned the duck upside down, and a micro SIM card fell into her palm.
She picked up the phone, and hit redial. “Diamond, you won’t believe what I found in the Lucky Duck . . .” After she ended the call, she raised both hands in the air, exultant. After unsuccessfully trying to read the card in her phone, she carefully slipped it into a plastic ziplock bag. One of Diamond’s young associates would swing by the trailer in a half hour to pick up the card and have it analyzed.
Linny sprang Roy from his crate and took him for a run around the yard. Back inside, she’d just finished gulping a glass of water when the phone rang. She smiled when she saw Jack’s number. “Hey there,” she said softly, trying not to sound besotted.
“Hey, you,” Jack said.
She could hear the warm smile in his voice. “How are you? How is Neal?”
“Great. I took him by the doctor’s and got him checked out. He’s fine. None the worse for the wear.”
“Thank goodness,” Linny said. “Why did he go to Margaret’s?”
“He was with me when I brought Margaret her first chickens, and went back with me a couple times after that. He was intrigued with the kid’s cottage, and thought it’d be a good place to hide out.” He paused and then went on. “Vera’s on a tear.”
“Yikes.” Linny closed her eyes. After the adrenaline-fueled past two days, high drama was the last thing any of them needed.
“I’m getting ready to drop Neal at her house. Seeing him all in one piece should help her . . . regain her equilibrium. We’ll pick up his bike at Margaret’s, and I think his pack is at your house. Can we stop by?”
“Sure. I’ll be here.” Her heart leapt at the prospect of seeing him. And she couldn’t wait to tell him about what she’d found in the duck.
She was in the yard, tossing a ball to Roy when they pulled in the driveway.
Jack waved and slid out of the truck, giving her a slow smile. She saw his solid shape and remembered the heat of his embrace. Her mouth went dry, and she had to work to sound casual. “Hey.”
With a shy smile, Neal stepped toward her, his hands held behind his back.
Linny put her hands on her hips, grinning. “What have you got there, young man?”
Neal thrust a bouquet of snowy daisies and lush blue hydrangeas at her. “Thanks for finding me,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on a spot six inches below her eyes.
Jack added, “I told him how much you seemed to like flowers from men.”
Linny clutched the flowers to her chest. “Of all the flowers I’ve ever gotten”—she shot Jack a mischievous glance—“these are the prettiest.”
Reaching out, Jack squeezed her hand. He put a hand on the boy’s neck. “Now, we need to get this guy to his mama’s house. Can I grab his pack?”
Neal scratched the ruff of Roy’s neck. “Can I throw him the ball?”
“Sure,” she nodded, and told Jack, “Neal’s pack is in the kitchen or beside the desk.” She turned back to the boy. “Let’s see if you can get him to catch it in the air.”
Roy liked to fetch the ball, but didn’t want to give it back. He’d loll in the grass chewing the ball, and dart away whenever they tried to persuade him to give it up. Neal didn’t seem to mind. “Drop it!” he called, grinning as he chased Roy around the yard.
Jack emerged from the house, holding a piece of paper in his hand and looking amused. He held up the paper and with a cheeky grin, read, “ ‘Kissing Jack more frequently and thoroughly.’ When does that start?”
Linny’s cheeks burned,, and she pretended to eye him coldly. “I can’t believe you’d just go into a person’s office and steal their private papers.”
He rubbed his chin. “Yup. I’d like to see a big ol’ check mark beside that particular item.”
Linny put a hand on her hip. “Did you go through my file cabinet, too? Rifle through my medical and dental records?”
“You are overdue for a cleaning at the dentist. Should have had it done in April.”
Linny shook her head and tried to suppress a smile as she snatched the paper from him. She folded it and pushed it into the pocket of her shorts.
He reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. “This is all going to work out, Linny.”
She sighed. There was that crazy arcing electricity when he touched her.
Jack rounded up his son, and Linny followed them to the truck. Taking a chance, she gave Neal a quick hug. He stayed stiff, but gave her a small pat on the back. As she walked with Jack to the driver’s side, she slipped under his arm and he gave her a quick, but scorching kiss.
“Oh, Avery. You are trouble,” Linny sighed.
“I hope to be.” He winked at her and stepped into the truck.
CHAPTER 17
Indian Summer
On a gold-lit afternoon in mid-October, t
he birthday party Jack had thrown for Linny was in full swing—however tame that might be. Opera music wafted out the propped open door of the aqua trailer, Carmen, Jack had taught her, and the soprano was warbling about the rocky road to true love. Linny smiled wryly—the lady had that right.
Sighing contentedly, she breathed in the heavenly smell of crisp fall air and wood smoke. Her guests sat in lawn chairs circled up around a crackling campfire, chatting as some finished their cake and ice cream, and the speedier eaters who’d already finished dessert held marshmallows on sticks over the flames. At last count, Neal had already eaten six marshmallows and was sprawled on the grass, his roasting stick beside him. Roy lay beside him, alternately licking the stick, and chewing on the boy’s hair.
“I should have stopped at two pieces,” Mary Catherine put her fork down and groaned. “That was so good.”
“My mama’s chocolate cake is better than Linny’s,” Neal said quietly giving Linny a sideways glance.
She bristled. She’d made the cake from scratch because Jack told her it was the boy’s favorite. She was about to say just that when Mary Catherine caught her eye and shook her head slightly.
“I’m sure your mama is a fine cook,” Linny said, managing an even tone.
Watching him, she sighed more deeply than she’d intended. With his doe eyes and sweet expression, he looked like a choir boy, but he could be a devil child. Spending time with this child was nothing like the article she’d read online called, “Building Loving Relationships with Your Man’s Little Darlings.” Her stomach tightened, and she worried he might ruin the first family party to which she’d ever invited them.
Last night’s skirmish had been a doozy. When she and Jack picked him up from Vera and Chaz’s house, a red-faced Neal had balked at getting in the truck. “Linny’s sitting in my seat. I’m not sitting in the back,” he’d announced, his arms crossed, glaring at her. Jack had been firm with him, and Neal eventually got in the back seat. But Jack didn’t notice that the boy had refused to make eye contact with Linny for the rest of the evening. Neal was adept at subtle digs and slights. When she mentioned them to Jack, he looked puzzled, and said in a soothing tone, “I didn’t see that, but don’t take it personally, Lin. He’s just at that age.” His cluelessness steamed her, but searching through Indigo’s book for solace, decided she’d Go peacefully, and let things unfold as they should. She sighed inwardly, it sounded so easy when you put it like that.
Linny eyed the boy warily, knowing it was more than just his age. He had a right to resent his father’s new girlfriend. Still, yesterday when they were eating the still warm brownies they’d just baked, he’d unexpectedly offered Linny an affectionate smile. She was still elated at that moment of closeness. While lolling with his head on Roy’s belly, she felt a wave of tenderness toward him. He had a sweet heart somewhere in there.
“Where are they?” Neal asked querulously. “They should have been back by now.”
“They’ll be back soon,” Linny assured him. A moment later, she heard the familiar rumbling engine, and grinned as she watched the red Camaro wheel up the driveway. She caught the white flash of Jack’s smile, and watched a hand wave excitedly from the open passenger window.
Dottie’s purple sneakers peeked from under the door as she struggled to extricate herself from the bucket seat. The T-top had given her dandelion hair. Smoothing her side poofs, she called out gaily, “Whew, that was zippy. I felt so footloose and fancy pants.”
As they walked over to rejoin the group around the fire, Linny felt a wave of gratitude that the two got along so well. After Jack became Curtis’s vet and found a cream that worked on the dog’s stubborn psoriasis, Dottie told to anyone who’d listen, “The man’s a genius.”
“No speeding, right, Jack?” Linny raised a brow.
“I drove well under the speed limit,” he said, folding himself into the chair beside her.
She shook her head. He said this every time he came back from a drive in his muscle car. His eyes sparkled as he enthused about the car to Jerry and Mike—both of whom looked envious. Last month, when he told her he wanted to buy the Camaro from the estate, Linny had thought he was crazy. She’d transferred the title to him and he was in love with that car.
After Linny pretended to be interested in his enthusiastic tutorials about the history of the Camaro, Jack made her drive the car. She felt the thrill of the big engine taking off as she pressed her foot on the gas pedal. Linny now understood the appeal of a V-8 with a turbo charged engine. After Mary Catherine had a bad day at work last week, Linny had swung by the office and taken her for a drive in the red car. On a long, straight stretch of Highway 421, her friend had whooped, grinning, her hair tangled and the collar of her silk work shirt flapping crazily.
Linny smiled, watching Mary Catherine and Mike sitting side by side in their lawn chairs, their knees touching, their heads leaning in toward each other—two contented peas in a pod.
“Linny says this is her twenty-second birthday, but I think she’s older,” Neal announced to the group in a serious tone. “But Dad says it’s not polite to ask a lady about her age.”
“Your dad is smart,” Mike commented, patting his wife’s knee.
Dottie circled around with a trash bag, collecting soggy paper plates. “Let’s open presents.”
“Yay! Let’s do.” Her hair tousled, and cheeks flushed from the fire, Kate looked like Tinker Bell with a baby bump. Reaching behind her lawn chair, she grabbed a canvas tote, and called to Neal, “Honey, will you be the gift delivery man?”
The boy nodded, and scrambled up to help.
Linny sighed happily. “Y’all didn’t need to do gifts. I don’t need a thing,” She’d already received a fabulous present already today. She felt another wave of relief as she replayed this morning’s phone call.
She’d been sipping coffee and watching the steam rise from the soy bean fields when the phone rang. Linny had smiled at the trilling hello. “Where are you now, Diamond? Capri? Palm Beach? One of those huts over the water in Tahiti?”
The lawyer sounded affronted. “Why, darling, I’m in the office. I have work to do.”
Linny smirked at her chiding tone. “Yes, Diamond.”
“Hot news here, kitten. That hunch you had about the decoy paid off. The SIM card led us to bank accounts that your scamp of a hubby had in the Caymans.”
“Buck hid money in offshore accounts?” Linny asked weakly.
“Yes, ma’am, and we might find a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow if we can ever get those bankers to stop stonewalling.” She gave a throaty laugh. “I love it, actually. Thrilling. Very cloak and dagger, cat and mouse.”
“Oh my goodness.” Linny’s heart pounded and her hand flew to her throat. She couldn’t believe it. On a daily basis she had racing thoughts and stomach-churning anxiety about Buck’s debt. Her heart lifted as she imagined being freed from that crushing worry. She sighed and closed her eyes for a delicious moment, feeling a flood of pure elation at the thought of Diamond finding pots of missing money. Whoa, Nellie. She’d not count her chickens. All Buck had ever done was pull the rug out from under her, so she’d best not let herself get too excited. Still, she’d felt ten thousand pounds lighter. “Go get those bankers, Diamond.”
“Oh, I will, darling. I will,” she’d purred.
The fire crackled and a sap pocket caught with a loud pop. Linny gave herself a shake, and mentally came back to the party. Neal approached her, the canvas tote slung over his skinny shoulder. Linny smiled. “Thanks, buddy.”
He smiled shyly, handed over a package, and knelt down beside her to watch.
Linny pulled open the wrapping paper, and grinned as she held up a suede go-go dancer vest. She arched a brow at Kate.
“For around the house, while cooking supper,” a twinkly eyed Kate clarified. “Makes every day festive.”
“It would,” she nodded, and gave it a shake to watch the fringe dance.
“This is from Miss
Dottie,” Neal read, as he handed her an envelope.
Slipping it open, Linny pulled out a gift certificate to the K & W Cafeteria and broke into a smile. “Thanks, Mama.”
“That Early Bird Discount starts at five-thirty,” her mother reminded her.
“We’ll use it,” Linny said, handing it to Jack, who smiled and nodded a little too enthusiastically. She gave him a swat. Linny was trying, but she still wasn’t much of a cook.
“This is the last one.” Neal presented her with one more gift.
Jerry held up a hand. “This one’s from me. Picked it out all by myself.”
From a box labeled Saks Fifth Avenue, Linny lifted a women’s red polyester suit with wide lapels, white topstitching, and thick shoulder pads. It looked like a women’s version of the leisure suit, and carried the faint musty smell of the SPCA Thrift Store.
“Paybacks are heck,” Jerry sniggered.
She tried to glare at him, but was laughing too hard to pull it off. “It’s . . . stunning.”
“It’s a power suit for your new business,” he explained helpfully.
Linny ran a hand across the almost plastic feel of the fiber, and glanced at Jerry.
“I’ll bet I can just pop this in the washer and dryer, too, right?”
“I had to pay extra for the wash-and-wear part,” Jerry pointed out.
She grinned, passing the box around to admirers.
“This is from me and Mike.” Mary Catherine handed Neal a beautifully wrapped box to deliver.
Linny lifted the lid, and drew in her breath. The cashmere shawl was shell pink, shot through with cream threads, and delicately lovely. “It’s just beautiful.”
“It looked like you.” Her friend gave her a sweet smile.
Linny blinked back tears. For the last six months, a shawl that looked like red clay, dog hair, sore back, sweat pants, and chewed down fingernails would have looked more like her, but things were getting better every moment. She hugged Mary Catherine and patted Mike, loving her friends all the more for seeing her that way.