by Lucy Gilmore
Her mind was so preoccupied with this that her next question slipped out unaware. “Bea, if you end up selling this place, do you have anywhere to go?”
As much as Bea claimed an appreciation for coming right out and saying a thing, this seemed to take her aback. Her face grew pale, and the book dropped from her fingers. It narrowly missed landing on Gigi’s head. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Now that the question was out, Dawn did what she always did—leaned into it.
“It means, do you really have any intention of selling to Adam and his family, or is this a ploy to get me to come over here and keep you company? The garden, the basement, the constant influx of baked goods… It seems to me that you don’t actually care about any of it. You just like having people around.”
Bea shot to her feet with an agility that belied her age. “Now, see here, young lady—”
“It’s okay if you do,” Dawn said. “I’m the same way. I don’t like spending a lot of time alone. I never have.”
That bald confession—the first time Dawn had ever allowed herself to say it out loud—had a calming effect on Bea. The older woman sat back down again, her knees a little wobbly, her hand braced on the banister to give her leverage.
Bea’s gaze caught hers. “I wasn’t lying about that contract,” she finally said, her tone somewhat mulish. “I really did have to sign something promising not to sell to the Dearborns.”
Dawn moved toward the stairs and took a seat on the bottom step—but not before brushing away what appeared to be more mouse droppings. “I believe you.”
“And that damned cow really did trample the yard, living it up like a trollop at her first disco. There just…wasn’t much of a garden back there. It was mostly dirt to begin with.”
Dawn believed that too. She’d thought it was odd that there weren’t more remnants of demolished vegetables scattered about. Not even Dawn—the cow—at her most destructive could pull up potatoes and carrots from the roots.
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Bea asked with an anxious inflection. “The Dearborns, I mean? The last thing I need is the whole lot of them trampling through here, full of sympathy and whispers for the sad, lonely lady next door. I’m not some dying old crone.”
“No, not a dying one,” Dawn agreed.
That got a laugh out of Bea—not to mention the glint back in her eye. Dawn was both glad and wary to see it.
Bea’s next words justified the wariness. “It might just so happen that a copy of the paperwork you’re after is filed in my estate lawyer’s office.” She held up a hand before Dawn could shout her protest. “Now, I’m not saying it is, only that it seems a likely possibility. I don’t have a mental record of everything they’ve got squirreled away, but that seems like the sort of thing that would go with the deed, don’t you think?”
Yes, Dawn did think it. She also suspected that Bea knew down to the last tax receipt what was being kept on her behalf. Bea might be a sad, lonely woman, but she was as sharp as they came.
“I’ll give him a call one of these days and have him pull my files out. Not,” she added as a warning, “because I’ve decided for sure what I want to do about this property, but because I like you. You remind me a lot of myself at your age.”
Dawn’s whole body jerked, though she did her best not to show it. Although she liked Bea—in the same way one liked a cute pair of shoes that started causing arch damage after just one hour of wear—she didn’t see a lot of common ground between them. Dawn enjoyed puppies and men, love and laughter. She did her best to fill her days from sunup to sundown, enjoying a whirl of activities and plans that kept her constantly on the go. She did everything she could to avoid going home, where the four solid walls stood as a stark testament that no one was waiting there for her…
Oh dear.
Bea must not have picked up on the sudden chill that moved down Dawn’s spine because she laughed and said, “I was a bit of a tart myself back in the day.”
Under any other circumstances, that admission would have done much to bolster’s Dawn spirit. Today, however, she could only stare at the woman. Bea was so lonely that she’d grown old in this house without anyone to care about what happened to her. She had no friends or family to brighten her golden years. Her neighbors were conspiring to get rid of her through any means necessary.
She’s me in about forty years.
Dawn swallowed and tried to think of something to say—something irreverent and light, something that would prove she was nothing like this woman who had to manipulate and lie just to spend time with another human being.
She came up short. Manipulation and lies were exactly what had gotten her into this position in the first place. She’d lied about Gigi’s origins and manipulated Adam into letting her train Uncle as a way to stay close to him. She’d lied about her true feelings and manipulated everyone into thinking that her only ambition in all this was to be the proud owner of a golden retriever.
With the end result, of course, that she’d gotten exactly what she asked for. She had the golden retriever and not a whole lot else.
“You know what?” Dawn sprang to her feet and wiped her hands on the seat of her shorts. “I am a tart.”
Bea blinked down at her. “Well, shit. Anyone with eyes in her head can see that.”
Dawn didn’t let that remark faze her. With the same emboldened belligerence, she lifted her chin and said, “I like men in general and Adam Dearborn specifically.”
“Anyone with eyes in her head can see that, too.”
That remark did faze her, but Bea only laughed and added, “What the hell else would you be doing here day in and day out? Anyone who thinks you’re digging through some old lady’s basement for shits and giggles has to be blind as well as blind. If you know what I mean.”
Dawn did know what she meant. She also knew that there was only one way she could prove to the world—and to herself—that she wasn’t some milquetoast of a woman who was willing to sit back and let a man dictate the terms of her life.
She liked Adam Dearborn, yes. She probably even loved him. But she wasn’t going to grow old and lonely in a slowly decaying farmhouse waiting for him to come around.
“Bea, how soon do you think you can get your hands on that paperwork?” she asked.
“Well now. That depends on the reason.”
Dawn had the feeling that true love wasn’t the sort of answer that would move a woman like Bea to action, so she said the next best thing.
“A poker game.”
Every sparkle in Bea’s eyes lit up at once. “You saucy minx—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She was. Once upon a time, Adam Dearborn’s grandfather had wanted something so much that he’d staked everything he owned to get it: a chance at a better future, an opportunity to build something worthwhile. More to the point, he’d done it even though it had cost him his reputation and probably his dignity.
“If I were to set up a friendly poker game among neighbors, you’d host it, right?” Dawn asked. Considering how much effort would have to go into a party like this one, she hastened to add, “You wouldn’t have to do any of the work, I promise. You can leave it up to me. All I’d need from you is one tiny little stake to get things rolling.”
Bea didn’t pretend not to understand. “And by tiny, you mean every acre of land I own, don’t you?”
“I’ll make sure you get whatever price you want for it,” Dawn promised. “And this way, no one can argue that it wasn’t fair or that you played favorites in deciding who the property goes to. Adam, Charlie, and I can play for it. Winner takes all—with or without the cheating this time.”
That was all Bea needed to hear to set her cackle roaring. “Say no more. I don’t want to be an accessory before the fact. You tell me when and where, and I’ll make sure the deed and agreement are in han
d.”
Dawn trotted up the stairs and threw her arms around the older woman. Bea was much smaller and thinner than she’d expected, her frame hidden underneath the oversized clothes and dingy layers she always seemed to wear. This hidden frailty, unnoticed for too long, made Dawn hold the hug longer than she might have otherwise. She also dropped a kiss on Bea’s cheek. Her skin felt soft and papery under her lips, and would probably bear the bright crimson mark of her affection for the rest of the day.
Neither woman cared.
“Bea Benson, you are a treasure,” Dawn announced.
“Dawn Vasquez, you are a pain in my ass,” Bea replied. “But damn if that isn’t exactly what this entire sorry neighborhood needs.”
Chapter 15
“I hereby call this family meeting to order,” Dawn announced.
Lila’s brows rose, but she pursed her lips and folded her hands primly on top of the table, ready and willing to listen. Sophie was also ready and willing, but since she held a squirming Gigi in her lap, her attention wasn’t quite as focused.
“This is the worst-behaved service puppy I’ve ever seen,” Sophie said as Gigi started snuffling her way inevitably to the floor. That was where the shoes were, which meant that was precisely where she intended to go. “What exactly are you training her to do?”
“To sit still for five minutes and not get us kicked out of our favorite restaurant,” Dawn replied. Even though Gigi bore the vest proclaiming her service training status, they’d already received the side-eye from several of the waitresses. Fortunately, they were such regular patrons—and often with a puppy-in-training or two on hand—that no one had asked them to leave.
Yet.
Gigi finally latched on to Sophie’s shoelace and pounced to the floor, eager to celebrate her victory by chewing it to pieces.
“These laces should give us about ten minutes,” Sophie announced with a chuckle. Like everyone else who’d ever held Gigi for longer than two seconds, her gaze was one of adoration and indulgence. “So you’d better talk fast. Either that, or we need to get one of Lila’s pumps ready.”
Lila promptly tucked her feet under the red vinyl booth. “Are you kidding? I love these shoes. I don’t see why you can’t just train her to behave. You’re more than capable of it. You once transformed an entire litter of hyperactive Jack Russell terriers into docile little lambs.”
“Because I don’t want to,” Dawn replied. She could have left it at that, but she needed to tell them this. She needed to tell them everything. “She bounced back from her trauma like a trouper and acts as though all she has to do is bat her eyes to have the whole world eating out of her hand, but it’s not like that.”
Last night had been a clear example. Adam had warned her that Gigi didn’t much care for the dark, but not to what extent. As soon as the lights had gone out for the night, that little puppy had jumped into Dawn’s lap and refused to move. Not even the promise of a leather-thonged flip-flop had been enough.
“Her spirit isn’t unbreakable,” Dawn said, stealing a glance under the table at her protégé. In addition to Sophie’s shoelaces, she seemed to have found a stray crust worth snuffling out. “She puts on a good show, I know, but that’s only because it’s what’s expected of her. Happy, playful, energetic puppies are what people prefer, so that’s the facade she’s learned to wear. She chases anything that moves and refuses to listen to commands and then makes up for it by licking your face until you can’t breathe. In other words, she’s charming as all hell. But deep inside, she’s a neurotic, chaotic mess.”
She glanced back up again and held her sisters’ stares—first Sophie’s, and then Lila’s.
“A lot like me.”
To her sisters’ credit, neither one of them burst out with protests or exclamations that she was no such thing. They knew her well enough to recognize the truth.
“I’m struggling, you guys,” Dawn said with a quick dash at her suddenly moist eyes. Her winged eyeliner was perfectly on point today. There was no way she was ruining it. “I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to infringe on your happiness. The truth is, I don’t like living in the house without you, but I don’t like losing all responsibility for the kennel and puppies, either.”
“Oh, Dawn.” Lila reached across the table, holding her hand in place until Dawn took it. “Of course you’re not infringing on our happiness.”
“I am, and you know it. How many times have you had to abandon Ford and Emily to bring me food and flowers?”
“It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that. Emily once offered to come stay with me for a few weeks so she could teach me how to make my own peanut-butter sandwiches. When a seven-year-old is offering you life-skills training—and you actually consider it for a few minutes before declining—something is wrong.”
Dawn turned to Sophie before she could interrupt. “And how many hours have you wasted on the road, driving to and from Deer Park to make sure I’m not moping around and feeling sorry for myself?”
“Excuse you. My time on the road is never wasted. I love those murdery podcasts.” Sophie smiled and took Dawn’s other hand. It was an awkward position, and made it difficult for Dawn to protect her eyeliner, but her sisters held fast. “In fact, I listened to one the whole way here. They just found three more bodies.”
Dawn refused to let herself be distracted. That was supposed to be her job, not theirs—cracking jokes, bringing smiles.
But Sophie beat her to the next line. “It’s a few minutes on the road, Dawn, not a lifetime of jury duty. I visit you because I want to, not because I feel like I have to.”
“And Emily only offered to come live with you because she likes you better than the rest of us,” Lila added. “Everyone likes you better than the rest of us, but you always find a way to do this.”
“Do what?”
In tandem, both Sophie and Lila squeezed her hands. They also released their grips and sat back against the booth cushion. Dawn thought for a moment that their food had arrived, but the waitress bustled by carrying someone else’s plates.
“It’s true. Do you remember the time she broke up with that quarterback in high school?” Sophie’s question was directed at Lila, who nodded in reply. “He was—what?—six foot two and had more muscles than an entire beach-body competition. I remember because I was in for my second round of chemo, so she kept sneaking photos of his abs to help pass the time.”
“But then he dumped her, so she had to steal photos from the internet and pretend they were him.” Lila laughed. “I’ll never know where she found so many pictures of half-naked men.”
“His name was Chad,” Dawn said carefully. Like Lila and Sophie, she had very clear memories of this incident—few of them good. “And naked pictures are everywhere, Lil. Do you even know how the internet works?”
They ignored her, and this time, it was Lila’s turn to traipse down memory lane.
“Or there was the time I was finishing my master’s thesis, and she broke her ribs in that skiing accident. Remember, Soph? She didn’t want to distract me when I was up against such a tight deadline, so she pretended she’d fallen in love with her ski instructor and hid at her friend Malia’s house until she was healed.”
Dawn sat up straight in her seat. “Wait—you knew about that? Sophie, you told her?”
Sophie blinked innocently at her. “Of course not. You don’t have to tell Lila things. She already knows.”
“It’s true,” Lila agreed, her expression softening. That was almost worse, since Dawn could guess what was coming next. “I know everything—including the fact that you’ll do or say anything rather than reveal what’s really in your heart. Especially if it might cause anyone else the least bit of discomfort. You loved that overly chiseled quarterback… Admit it.”
“Please. I could never love a man named Chad.”
“Dawn,” Lila admonished.
Dawn felt heat flush to her cheeks. “At the time, yes, I thought he was the hottest thing since popped collars. In retrospect, however, I think I would have gotten tired of him within the year. He never stopped talking about his passing yards. You did me a favor, Soph, getting chemo when you did. Searching the internet for PG-13 porn got me through a real tough spot in my life.”
Sophie didn’t accept the thanks. Like Lila, her expression grew misty around the edges, her soft, lilting voice even softer and more lilting than before. “And you would have much rather convalesced at home instead of your friend’s house,” she said. “I remember because Malia had that boyfriend who was always trying to get you to sleep with him while she was at work. You must have hated being stuck there.”
Dawn pulled a face, remembering. It had been hard to stave off an ardent cheater when her ribs were cracked in three places, but she’d managed it. Of course, it had required her not bathing the entire time she was there. There had been things growing on her bandages that no woman should have to face alone.
“It was my own fault for trying that jump in the first place. My skiing skills have never been quite as high as my confidence.”
“Dawn,” Lila said.
“Dawn,” Sophie echoed.
A feeling of profound discomfort settled onto Dawn’s shoulders, holding her in place and making it difficult to protest her sisters’ gentle treatment of her. All the things they were saying about her were true, but they were wrong about the motivations behind them. From the way they were looking at her, as though she was some kind of saintly being dedicated to their life’s happiness, anyone would think she’d acted from motives of pure self-disinterest.
But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t self-disinterest that caused her to act the way she did—it was self-preservation.
“You guys don’t understand,” she said. Pled, really, her voice taking on a wheedling tone that caused even Gigi to sit up and take notice. Although Dawn doubted she would ever be the puppy’s favorite, the animal was perceptive—and generous—enough to lift her head and place it on Dawn’s knee.