by Brenda Novak
“Is it the shop that’s got you so upset?”
“Yeah,” she lied.
“We’ll get it open by next weekend.”
“Okay.”
“What else is going on around there?”
“Reenie’s pregnant,” she said, just to see his response.
“I’m sure your brother’s happy about that.”
“Thrilled. Between Gabe pulling through the operation and the pregnancy, he and Reenie have a lot to celebrate tonight. But I’m the only one who’s supposed to know about the baby at this point, so don’t mention it to the senator.”
“I won’t. Where will you be tomorrow afternoon?”
“I don’t know. Probably the shop.”
“I’ll drop by when I get in. I want to see you.”
“Right, okay. Good night,” she said and hung up. Then she curled into herself. She was supposed to call Dave, and Reenie and Isaac, too. But she couldn’t muster the energy.
Unplugging the phone from the wall so it wouldn’t ring, she headed down the hall and fell into bed. She didn’t even bother to undress. Such details hardly seemed important when she was pretty sure she’d never be able to get up again.
“MOMMY…MOMMY.” A SMALL HAND tapped Liz’s shoulder. “Mommy, wake up.”
“What?” she muttered into her pillow.
“I think we’re late for school.”
Jerking her head up, Liz squinted at her son, then took in the glowing numerals on her alarm clock. Sure enough, it was almost nine. They’d overslept.
Liz might’ve cursed, but she’d been taking extra care with her language these days. Christopher was at the age where he mimicked everything he heard, and she definitely didn’t want him running around school saying, “Shit!”
Staggering to her feet, she shoved a hand through her hair and tried to gather all her faculties together. “Where’s Mica?”
“Eating.”
“Eating what?”
“Cold cereal.”
She would rather have made her children a healthier breakfast. “What about you?” she asked, starting down the hall. “Can I make you some oatmeal?”
He trailed behind her. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”
“Grandpa Russell said not to.”
“Grandpa Russell!” she said, her voice loud enough to make her head throb.
“He’s the one who rang the doorbell earlier,” Mica volunteered as Liz entered the kitchen.
Liz hadn’t heard any doorbell. She glanced around. “Is he still here?”
“No. He just came by to tell you that he put a new lock on the back door of your shop and to drop off the keys.” Mica waved toward the counter. “They’re over there.”
Was this really Gordon they were talking about? “That was nice of him,” Liz mumbled.
“He’s in a real good mood,” Mica told her. “He went home to shave, but he’s coming back to drive us to school. That’s why he said to let you sleep. He said he’d take us today.”
Liz could hardly believe it. “I can manage.”
“No, Mom. He promised us we’d stop for doughnuts if we get ready quietly.” She made a face at Christopher. “I guess I’m the only one who gets one, though, since big mouth over there woke you up.”
“I’m not a big mouth!” Christopher said.
Liz put a hand on her son’s shoulder, since he was already hugging her leg and she could reach him easier. “Stop it, you two. It’s good he woke me, Mica. I needed to get up. I have a lot to do.” But then she remembered the fact that she might be pregnant and nearly groaned out loud.
Mica grimaced at Liz’s wrinkled T-shirt and skirt. “Weren’t you wearing that outfit yesterday?”
“I fell asleep before I could change for bed.”
“You’ve never done that before.”
“Not that I can remember.”
Mica shoved her glasses all the way up to the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure Angela’s uncle Gabe will be okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Liz assured her. “And I’m fine, too.”
Mica’s thoughtful expression indicated she wasn’t totally convinced. But then Gordon knocked at the door, and she and Chris rushed off to gather their backpacks.
“He’s here! We gotta go!” Chris cried, as if they weren’t already in motion.
Liz made her way to the front door. “You don’t have to take the kids to school,” she said once she let Gordon in.
“I don’t mind,” he replied. “You looked a little strung out last night. I figured you could use the rest.”
“I looked that bad?”
“Why not take a hot bath and relax?”
Obviously, she didn’t look any better this morning. “Do you know where the school is located?”
“I can show him,” Mica said confidently, pulling Christopher along as she tried to squeeze between Liz and the door frame.
Liz moved back to make more room.
Once they stepped outside, Gordon put a hand on Mica’s shoulder. “This one reminds me so much of you,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Liz blinked in surprise, then returned his smile. “Thanks for your help.”
He started to leave, but pivoted to face her again halfway down the walk. “By the way, I’m almost finished with the shop. You should be able to open tomorrow. So you might want to make some candy this afternoon.”
“Almost finished?” she echoed.
He shrugged. “Once I got going it was tough to stop.”
“You must’ve been up all night.”
“I had a goal in mind.”
He waved, and the three of them climbed into his car and drove off.
Liz closed the door. She needed to go to a neighboring town to purchase a pregnancy test. To put her mind at ease, to know exactly what she was facing.
But just as she finished getting ready and was about to grab her purse and car keys off the counter, someone rang the doorbell.
And this time it wasn’t her father. It was Dave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LIZ’S EX-TENNIS COACH still looked stunning, with his golden hair, broad smile and tanned face. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. Her memory of him certainly didn’t compare to the flesh-and-blood version standing on her doorstep. But he wasn’t Carter, and he didn’t affect her in the same way.
“Dave, what are you doing here?” she managed to ask once she’d recovered from the shock.
“You never called me back last night.”
“I was exhausted. I fell asleep.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Why? I’ve already explained that—” she didn’t know how to put it any more gently “—it’s over.”
Dickie from next door came out of his house to water his lawn. When Liz glanced over at him, he was eyeing Dave suspiciously, which made her realize that she should probably encourage Dave to vacate her front porch, so Dickie couldn’t eavesdrop.
“Here, come in,” she said, holding the door.
When Dave brushed past her, she could smell his cologne. The scent was familiar—from Vegas and from when they used to play tennis together. He could be sweating buckets and still smell like a cologne card from some magazine. She supposed she should find that attractive. There was a time when she had. But at this point, she felt only panic concerning her situation and the desire to get rid of Dave as soon as possible. Evidently, meeting Carter had completely doused the small flame she’d once carried for Dave, which was crazy. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been convinced she was falling in love with him.
“This place is exactly how I pictured it,” he said.
Liz didn’t think it required much imagination to conjure up an image of the rental house in which she lived. At least fifteen years old, it was a basic four-bedroom, two-bath starter house. But The Chocolaterie was special. She wanted to show him that. Except she knew Carter would be looking for her there this afternoon and she hardly want
ed the two of them to meet. Not that she anticipated trouble. Carter probably didn’t care enough to act out, and Dave wasn’t the type. She just preferred to avoid the whole awkward situation.
“Have a seat,” she said.
He sat on the couch but leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smiling at her. “You’re not really mad at me for coming, are you?”
“No, of course not. It’s good to see you. I’m just…with what happened at the shop, I’m pretty stressed out.”
“I understand that and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Anyway, this is your busy season,” she said. “How’d you get time off at the club?”
“I told them I was taking a vacation.”
“How long did you tell them you’d be gone?”
“I didn’t get specific.”
“I’m sure they weren’t too pleased to hear that.”
“They’ll put up with it because they don’t want to lose me.” He rubbed his hands lightly together. “Anyway, I had to come. I couldn’t let things fall apart between us at the last second.”
“Dave, you don’t…I mean, we’re not…”
“What?” he challenged, and for the first time she realized that he was nervous. She’d never seen him at a loss. It made her feel guilty in terms of the past few weeks. Surely he’d be shocked to know that her relationship with Carter had become so intimate. She couldn’t imagine what he’d say if she told him she was probably carrying Carter’s baby….
“Compatible,” she finished.
“What do you mean? We get along great. We’ve never even had an argument.”
Liz wasn’t sure anyone could argue with Dave. He was too easygoing, too fun-loving. And he didn’t hold himself or anyone else to a strict standard of behavior. “You know what we’re up against.”
“An age difference that’s meaningless. My reputation, which doesn’t matter either, because I’ve changed. And too much distance, which could be rectified.”
That wasn’t all. There was Carter. But Liz didn’t volunteer that piece of information. She and Dave faced enough obstacles without another man added to the mix, which was why they hadn’t gotten together before. “Exactly.”
“Liz, I’m asking you to move back to L.A.”
“Dave, you can’t really expect—”
He raised a hand so she’d let him finish. “I’d offer to move here, but the only place I could coach tennis is at the Running Y Ranch, and I’ve already called them. They’re happy with who they have and don’t need my help.”
“You called the Running Y?” she echoed.
“I did, and I didn’t get anywhere. Which means, if I moved here, I’d either have to commute to Boise, which isn’t exactly the tennis capital of the world. Or—” he gave her a rueful grin “—I’d have to work at the hardware store with Keith.”
Liz couldn’t help chuckling. She liked Dave. Being with him was starting to bring those comfortable feelings back to her. But she couldn’t see him living in Dundee, and she wasn’t about to leave. “I can’t move back, Dave. There’s the shop and the kids—”
“Even if I asked you to marry me?”
She gaped at him, unable to formulate a response. Finally, she said, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he said earnestly. “I know it would be difficult to take Mica and Christopher away from their father, but I’ll be the best stepdad I can be, and we’ll let them come out here as much as possible.”
Instinctively, Liz cupped a hand to her stomach, horrified by the fact that she was actually tempted by the escape he’d just offered her. If she married Dave and moved to California, no one would ever have to know about Carter’s baby. Even Carter.
She wasn’t sure she could really leave Dundee without telling him. She couldn’t imagine doing that. But she couldn’t imagine confronting him with the news, either. At the very least, she’d have to be honest with Dave. She couldn’t marry him without telling him the truth. As terrified as she was, as panic-stricken as she was, she knew that much.
She shook her head to try and clear her thinking. Before she made any decisions, she needed to discover the truth herself. “I’d lose a lot of money on the shop.”
“We could sell the business.”
The mere thought of letting The Chocolaterie go into the hands of someone else nearly broke Liz’s heart. But it would be preferable to closing it down. “Can I have some time to make up my mind?”
He blinked and sat up straight, as if he was surprised he’d gotten this far. “Sure. Think about it. Meanwhile, I’ll rent a room over at the Running Y and help you get the shop open again, just in case you decide to sell.”
Gordon had said The Chocolaterie was nearly finished, so it wouldn’t take much, besides making more candy to replace what had been lost. But that information wasn’t quite so important right now.
“Okay,” she said. Then she showed Dave to the door and walked back to the telephone to leave a message for Reenie at the high school.
AS HIS PLANE LANDED IN BOISE, Carter stared at Laurel’s picture on his cell phone. He’d wanted to stop by her grave, to pay his respects and tell her about Hooper, but he’d been too worried about Liz to delay his return. Liz hadn’t sounded like herself on the phone. And then there was the issue of Rocky Bradley.
What was Bradley’s connection to Dundee? To Liz? Carter had racked his brain trying to come up with one, to no avail. But there had to be some reason Bradley had driven into the middle of nowhere to vandalize a chocolate shop—twice.
What did an ex-con living in Boise have to gain by such an act? Why violate his parole and risk going to prison over a petty crime such as this?
Carter snapped his phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. He’d figure it out sooner or later. Since he was heading to Bradley’s house, maybe it would happen today.
When the Fasten Seatbelt sign went off, he pulled his single carry-on bag from the overhead compartment and followed the flow of people off the plane. It didn’t take long to retrieve his car from long-term parking. And only a half hour later he was standing on Bradley’s mother’s doorstep.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Bradley asked when she saw Carter.
“Carter Hudson. I’m the one who called you yesterday.”
She stood behind a locked screen door. “I remember. You were asking questions about Rocky.”
“That’s right. He around?”
She hesitated. “I told him that you think he wrecked a candy shop in some small town, but he said you’re crazy. He can’t leave Boise without notifying his parole officer.”
“He’s not supposed to leave town without notifying his parole officer.”
He glanced at the red Toyota truck in the driveway. It had no back bumper.
“He didn’t do it,” she said.
“I’d like to hear that from him.”
She yanked on the collar of a big dog that was trying to wedge itself in front of her. “Who are you with again?”
“The FBI.” After quitting the Bureau nearly two years ago, it was a stretch to claim the connection now. But the fact that Carter was no longer an official employee hadn’t bothered Johnson when he’d asked for help with Hooper.
“We don’t want any more trouble,” she said as the dog pressed his nose to the screen.
“Then I suggest you get him.”
Sighing in resignation, she yanked the dog back again. “Let me see if he’s up.”
Carter waited for several minutes. He was just beginning to wonder if Bradley and his mother had slipped out the back door and left him and the dog to stare at each other from opposite sides of the screen, when the man from the mug shot he’d seen in New York stumbled sleepily into view. His hair stood up on one side and he wasn’t wearing a shirt—just a pair of jeans belted well below the top of his boxers. Tattoos covered his arms and chest.
“Since when is vandalism a federal crime?” he asked, unlocking the screen door and holding it open with his f
oot as if he were some kind of tough guy.
The dog squeezed outside and proceeded to sniff Carter. But he didn’t seem dangerous. He wagged his tail and ultimately licked Carter’s fingers. “I could call the local police, if you’d rather,” Carter said.
Bradley pulled a smashed pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up a smoke. “Don’t make a damn bit of difference to me,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Have you ever been to Dundee?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never. I don’t even know where it is.”
“That’s interesting, because I’ve got your fingerprints all over a beer bottle you left there,” he said. “I’ve also got a witness who can place you in an alley near the main drag and a good description of your truck.”
Rocky’s face lost a great deal of its color. “So I visited the place. So what? That doesn’t prove I did anything wrong.”
“It proves you violated your parole.”
“That’s bullshit, man. I took a drive. That’s no reason to send me back to prison.”
“Tell me why you were there and what made you choose that particular shop, and maybe I’ll forget that your name has turned up in all of this.”
Bradley exhaled, blowing the smoke in Carter’s face, but Carter could tell it was all an act. The guy was scared.
Jerking the cigarette away from the younger man’s mouth, Carter tossed it to the ground and crushed it with his foot. The dog danced around, barking at Carter, but Bradley didn’t move.
“Do you really want to serve time for spray painting someone’s walls?” Carter asked.
Rocky’s eyes darted to the smashed cigarette, and his mother came out to calm the dog.
“Tell me you haven’t done anything wrong,” she said to her son, holding the dog’s collar. “Tell me you haven’t gotten yourself in trouble again.”
“What if someone paid me to do it?” Bradley asked, nervously rubbing his knuckles along the bottom of his chin.
Carter nudged the cigarette butt off the cement stoop. “Who?”
“If I tell you, will you go after him and forget about me?”
“That depends.”