Homecoming in November (The Calendar Girls Book 3)

by Gina Ardito

  As we drew nearer to the crowd, I counted at least two dozen people, and half a dozen kids congregating around a circular pit full of burning driftwood. On the edge of the gathering, a man got up from a blanket he shared with another man and two women, one blond, the other brunette.

  “Iggy!”

  “Hey, Sam.” Iggy clapped him on the shoulder. “You remember Jayne, don’t you? Jayne, you remember Sam Dillon.”

  Police Chief Dillon. I knew him, thanks to his greyhound (a patient of Snug Harbor Veterinary), Daisy. Occupational hazard, I often remembered the animals better than the owners. But Sam had also been one of the cavalry outside my office that night the wall of men and dogs allowed me to make my escape from the press hordes.

  “Chief Dillon,” I said, holding out my hand. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Call me Sam.” He pulled me into a hug. “So glad you came tonight, Jayne. Come meet everybody else.” He walked with me to the blanket where the other three rose. Sam helped the pretty blonde to her feet while the other gentleman assisted the dark-haired woman. Both ladies paused to brush sand off their jeans. “Paige, this is Jayne Herrera. Dom’s new vet.”

  Paige was all smiles and bright eyes. “Hi. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Oh, God. Here we go. I forced a smile and held out my hand again, ready to face the past with no apologies or explanations. Let people see the real me and judge for themselves. “Hi, Paige. Nice to meet you.”

  Once again, I was pulled into an embrace and hugged, squeezing me tighter than a boa constrictor with abandonment issues. “A handshake’s not gonna do it, Doctor. Is it okay if I call you Jayne?” She didn’t wait for a reply. Good thing, because as I struggled to breathe, uttering words would have been impossible. “Iggy believes in you, Dom believes in you, and Sam believes in you. You couldn’t ask for better character witnesses. You’re among friends here. I promise.” She turned to the other couple standing nearby. “Francesca, Josh, come meet Dr. Herrera.”

  “Actually,” the brunette said as she stepped forward, “we’ve already met.”

  I recognized her voice. Dr. Florentino from the hospital visit with Iggy and his mom. “Good to see you again, Doctor.”

  “Francesca, please. Like Paige said, you’re among friends here.” She introduced the man at her side. “This is Josh Candolero.”

  “Jayne,” he said. “Nice to finally meet the woman who brought down Iggy Zemski.”

  A blush heated my face from chin to hairline. “No, I really didn’t.”

  Paige giggled. “Yeah, you really did. Come on. Come sit with us girls while the guys get your stuff set up.” She gestured at Sam and Josh, who now helped Iggy pull a large quilt out of his duffel bag and spread it out on the sand. “Want a glass of wine? We’ve got plenty. Legal Eagle’s only drinking water. And Francesca likes her hot tea.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I hate to drink alone.”

  A child sped by us, giggling while waving a lit sparkler, followed by a man shouting after her. “Ariana! Don’t run with that.”

  She stopped immediately, in front of where I stood with Paige, and pointed her sparkler at me. “I saw you on television.”

  Tentacles of dread wrapped around me, gripping me tight. Well, didn’t that bite? Even little kids knew me now.

  “You’re much prettier in person,” the child said then scampered to the water’s edge to dip the smoking tip of the now-sparkless sparkler into the water.

  “Don’t drop it,” the man called. “Bring it back so we can put it in the trash.”

  “I know.” She skipped back along the shoreline, but the man approached the blanket where I sat with Paige and Francesca.

  “She saw you on the news,” he said in a soft, apologetic tone, “but she has no idea why you were featured. I’m Colin.”

  “Jayne,” I said with a nod.

  “And you just met my busybody daughter, Ariana. My wife, Lucie, and our son, Adam, are over there.” He pointed to the other side of the fire where the little girl settled down beside a dark-haired woman who held a toddler in her lap and clapped the boy’s hands in a musical rhythm. “Tell Iggy to bring you to the Gull and Oar for dinner one of these nights. I guarantee the staff will take good care of you.”

  Great. Not only did everyone know who I was and why I’d come here, apparently they also knew Iggy and I were dating. Which was bizarre when I’d barely accepted that idea myself on the walk here from the parking lot. “Umm…thank you.”

  With a curt nod, he strode back to his family.

  “That was Colin Murriere,” Paige said as she picked up a bottle of wine from a silver ice bucket on a stand planted in the sand. “Owner of the Gull and Oar restaurant on Main Street and former winner of ‘All Star Chef’ a couple of years ago.” She poured white wine into two plastic glasses that sat on a small table next to the ice bucket. “We get our share of celebrities here, notorious or otherwise. Famous musicians, movie stars, New York Times bestsellers and, rumor has it, a mob boss or two, all have houses here—in the snooty part of town. A few months ago, Moses Nightshade, that gothic rock guy? He was arrested in Snug Harbor for a DWI. Sam actually had him locked up in a cell in the back of the police department overnight until his court appearance the next day. No one noticed. Or, if they did, no one cared. And Max Trayham? The guy who plays the Greek hot throb on ‘Lost in Urbanland’? He got picked up after he and his supermodel girlfriend were involved in some kind of domestic battery brouhaha outside a restaurant at Coffield’s Wharf last year.” She handed me one of the filled wine glasses. “So, you see? You’re not as special as you think you are. Cheers!”

  I laughed as I tapped my plastic glass against hers. Paige was a refreshing change from the parasite press, the former friends who weren’t sure whether to believe me or not, and the individuals who definitely thought I was involved but were too polite to say so to my face. “Thanks. I feel so much better now.”

  “You’re welcome.” She sipped the wine. “I guess my job here is done.”

  I followed suit, putting the glass to my lips and taking a small sip. I couldn’t tell you what varietal it was, but I did pick up the fruity tastes of crisp apple and sweet pear in the blend. “This is nice. Thank you.”

  “It’s from a local vineyard. Their first release. We locals are a loyal bunch.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.” I took another sip, let the cool liquid slide down my throat and warm my belly.

  Reclining on the blanket again, Francesca leaned on her elbows. The brisk breeze ruffled her hair and reddened her cheeks. “Isn’t it a gorgeous night? It’s so peaceful here.”

  Josh settled behind her, supporting her back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s perfect.” He kissed the top of her head, and she snuggled closer to him.

  I looked up at the heavy clouds, at the black outline that signified coming rain, and struggled to keep my hair from flying off my head beneath the turbulent wind. I supposed to those in love, every night is perfect. Had I ever lived in that pretty pink cloud of eternal happiness? If I did, it was so long ago I couldn’t remember. Or maybe, it had been so fleeting, I never noticed.

  Iggy appeared at my side. “I see the ladies have made you comfortable already.”

  I glanced up at him, beaming, and raised my glass in his direction. “In the best possible way. With wine.”

  He held out his hand. “Come on. We’ve got wine, cheese and crackers, and chocolate-dipped strawberries on our blanket.”

  Wow. He really knew how to romance a girl. I handed him my glass and got to my feet, a little clumsy on the soft sand. Iggy gripped my elbow to steady me. They may have all been used to walking on a beach; I was still a novice. Because of my graceless motion, I was at just the right eye level to catch the white light gleaming out of the thick grasses dotting the dunes.

  “They’re here,” I murmured. “At least one of them. Up in the dunes.”

  “No kidding? Sam,” Iggy said over my head. �
�We’ve got some trespassers in the nesting area.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll take care of that.” Sam unspooned himself from Paige and got to his feet, reaching for a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “Whereabouts?” he asked me. “Don’t point. Give me times, based on where you’re standing. Twelve o’clock, two o’clock, and so on.”

  “Two o’clock,” I replied.

  He nodded and pushed the button on the walkie-talkie, breaking the night frivolity with a burst of static. “Patrick. Bogey in the southwest corner of the Windmill Avenue area of the dunes.”

  A minute or two later, a voice came back on another blast of static. “Got ‘em. What do you want us to do with them?”

  Sam looked at me. “Any requests?”

  “I guess tossing them into a pit of fire-breathing dragons isn’t an option.” I tossed up my hands. “Beats me. What’s the usual protocol for something like this?”

  “Well…” He scratched his head. “Since they’re currently traipsing around a protected area, they face serious fines.”

  “I’m a protected area?”

  He chuckled. “Not you. The dunes. Those are piping plover nesting fields.”

  “A piper-what?”

  “Piping plover,” Iggy said. “They’re the little birds you see darting around the shoreline in the warmer months. They’re a threatened species.”

  “They generally don’t nest here until early spring, but we like to keep the dunes safe for them year-round,” Sam added. “Your reporters are standing smack-dab in the middle of the plovers’ habitat.”

  “I say we execute them,” Paige chimed in. “They’re endangering the birds and our new vet.”

  I drained my wine glass, swallowed, and handed the empty to her for a refill. As my gaze encompassed all my new-found friends, I smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I think I finally found a place where I can feel safe.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Sam said. “Right now, I’ve gotta go play police chief. Josh, would you make sure Paige gets home okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

  Realization slapped me upside the head. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I exclaimed. “I ruined your date.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Paige waved a hand. “I’m used to being abandoned when duty calls. It comes with the territory of loving a cop.”

  I was all set to argue when Iggy’s phone chimed inside his pocket. He pulled it out, stared at the screen and frowned. “One sec,” he told me.

  He punched the button to connect then strolled up toward the wooden walkway and parking lot.

  “I’m surprised he got a signal at all, down here,” Paige remarked as we all watched Iggy with open curiosity.

  I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but Iggy’s posture stiffened and he ducked his head as if dodging a blow. A shiver rippled down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool temperatures or my distance from the fire.

  Something was wrong. I was even more certain when he disconnected and turned around to walk back. Every footfall weighed him down, the limp from his wounded knee more pronounced as he struggled against the soft sand. I didn’t wait for him to finish the grueling trek.

  I dropped my wineglass in the sand, spilling the contents, and raced to him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “My mother. She’s taken a turn for the worse. I need to get to the hospital. I can ask Josh to take you home, or I can drop you off on my way.”

  His gaze looked through me, and his words came out with no inflection. I nodded and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No. I have to call Irenka, have her meet me there.”

  He didn’t look at me when he spoke. His mind was already at the hospital. I couldn’t hold him back any longer by making him take me home, too. “Go,” I said. “I’ll find a ride. Call me when you can.” I stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and sent him on his way.

  “Well, this party came to an end fast,” Paige grumbled good-naturedly.

  I turned to face her. “I’m really sorry.”

  She waved off my apology. “Don’t be. We can still salvage some of the evening. But there’s a catch. Since Francesca will be canoodling with Josh and refuses to share—”

  “You got that right,” Francesca interjected.

  Paige gave her a mock glare and clucked her tongue. “Selfish wretch. Anyway, Jayne, you and I will have to be each other’s dates for the night. I hope you’re good at slow dancing.”

  I laughed. “Only if someone else leads.”

  “We’ll make do,” she replied with a giggle.

  When Josh dropped me off at home a few hours later, if I’d had any doubt regarding the identity of the trespasser in the dunes, I had my answer when I discovered someone crouched on my porch, peeking in my living room window. A male someone. Cole Abrams. That meant Tanya Carter and her cameraman had a date with Sam Dillon, and Cole was the last man standing. As if to prove it, he’d become more brazen.

  “Who’s that?” Paige asked.

  “One of my devoted fans.” I opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

  He whirled, eyes wide for the briefest second before his expression flattened. “I was curious.” He jerked his thumb at the window. “Big step down from your pretty, white Mcmansion in Ohio, isn’t it?”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Cole?”

  “Just to talk. Off the record, if you prefer.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘off the record’ with you. I found that out the hard way.”

  He loomed closer, his knowing smile feral in the darkness. “Oh, come on, Jayne. You were fully aware I was a reporter when you talked to me.”

  “Yeah, I was. But I thought you were an ethical reporter. I know better now.” Sensing a presence behind me, I turned and nearly bumped into Josh, with Paige and Francesca so close, I could’ve taken them all out, like dominoes, with one push.

  “Is there a problem here, Jayne?” Josh asked, but his attention was fully focused on Cole Abrams.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I replied with the same dismissive air I’d use to tell a pet owner how to apply flea and tick preventative. “Go take them home. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Mr. Abrams and I have some unfinished business between us.” That got the reporter’s attention. He stood up straighter, an eager smile on his smarmy face. He really thought he was about to get the “scoop” he’d been seeking for years.

  Josh gave me a dubious look, and I nodded with certainty. “If you say so. You change your mind, call me, okay? I can be back here in minutes.”

  I waited until the trio returned to the car before facing Abrams again. This man had hurt me once, had sent me running from my home and everyone I’d once loved, had caused me to hole up and hide from the world. No more. Thank God Dominick had found me and brought me here, to this town that seemed willing to accept me and give me a second chance. And thanks to Iggy, I’d found the fearless me, the one who made everyone feel like they belonged and brought the most diverse people together. The girl every girl wanted to be. Snug Harbor was now my home, and no one would chase me away, least of all this…this…this viper.

  “You may as well go, too, Cole. You’re not getting anything out of me.”

  “You must be pretty relieved that ol’ Vince is dead. No one to contradict your story now.”

  “You know what? Believe what you want. I know the truth. Eventually, you’ll have to admit it, too. You can come here every night from now until the day I die and my story will never change. And you’ll never find any evidence that I’m lying. Because I’m not lying. Dig all you want. I’m done running and hiding from you. And I’m done talking about this. I’ve given up enough of my life because my husband made a mistake. People make mistakes, you know. And those mistakes sometimes lead to tragedy. I’m just a boring lady with a boring job, a boring cat, and a boring life. There is
no smoking gun, no bombshell waiting to be discovered. So go ahead. Waste your time and resources on me. Because if you’re focused on me, you’re leaving someone else alone.”

  I pushed past him, unlocked my front door, and went inside. But this time, I didn’t lock the door behind me. I didn’t peek out the window to see if he lingered there. I simply greeted Midnight and proceeded to go about my life. Like a normal person.

  Chapter 18

  Terri

  I knew the minute I slid into the back seat of the limo, I’d made a horrible mistake. Max had a feral look to him, rumpled, unshaven, and his pupils were smaller than my stud earrings.

  “Terri!” he shouted, his arms thrown wide. “We are gonna have soooo much fun tooo-night!”

  Oh, God, he’s on something stronger than ginger ale.

  I’d seen him in similar circumstances twice before, and while he turned out fine in both instances—even if he did ignore me all night at that house party and fooled me into showing up at a meeting under a trumped-up sob story—I got a stronger sense of pending disaster this time. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a wave of nausea assailed my stomach.

  “We are gonna rock the house!” he exclaimed.

  I stayed near the passenger door, my fingers curled around the handle. I don’t know why. The limo had already made it to Montauk Highway and sped along at a clip that would ensure at least a dozen broken bones if I tried to dive out. Still, it might have to be an option. Time would tell. “I thought we were going to an art exhibit.”

  “We are; we are.”

  “Then, I don’t understand. What’s to rock? Aren’t art exhibits usually quiet? With people studying the paintings or sculptures in the main area and then making offers through the gallery owner in some private back room?” At least, that was the way they were always portrayed in movies and tv shows.