Bitsy frowned. “What soap did you get those lines from?”
“I’m serious,” Katie pleaded in self-defense. She knew the explanation sounded lame, but it was the best she could come up with without going into detail and making her friends feel bad for where they chose to live. It wasn’t that she disliked Didsbury. In fact, she had come to regard it affectionately, a place where time standing still was a positive for everyone but her. She was frightened of the compromise she could imagine herself making for love if she and Paul had kept seeing each other. Better that it was over.
“Does Liz know?” Denise asked.
“Not yet. I’m sure she’ll find out.” Katie hadn’t even thought about Liz.
“Oh, Katie, I’m so sorry,” said Bitsy sympathetically. “I was hoping—” She broke off. “Well, you know.”
“Guess it wasn’t meant to be,” said Denise. She winked at Katie. “So can I have his number?”
Bitsy clucked her tongue. “No wonder you look so exhausted. You’re in mourning.”
“For Tuck, not for Paul,” Katie quickly pointed out. She filled her friends in on the Tuck situation. Both agreed Tully’s Basin was not the most desirable address.
Denise looked uneasy. “Isn’t that where that single mother and her three kids were machete’d in their sleep a few years ago?”
Katie stared across the table. “Thanks for sharing, Denise.”
“They were bludgeoned, not machete’d,” Bitsy corrected. She turned to Katie. “Tuck’ll be fine. He’s got you, he’s got hockey, he’s got friends, he’s got your mom. Who knows? Maybe Mina’s really got it together this time.”
Katie wolfed down her portion of pie. “I hope so.”
Paul knew Mina was Katie’s sister the minute she strolled through the door of the bar. They both had the same delicate features and intelligent, watchful eyes that seemed to absorb everything at a glance. But their main similarity was their attitude: Both carried themselves with aplomb. With Katie, it was learned behavior, even an act. Mina looked like she was born to it.
“Paul?”
He nodded with a friendly smile as this sparrow of a woman approached the bar. “Mina?”
She seemed taken aback. “How did you know who I was?”
“You look like Katie.”
Mina’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Hardly. I’m much smaller.”
“In stature. But you have the same eyes and same features.”
Mina ignored this. “I hear you’re looking for a waitress?”
“I am. One who’s also got experience as a cocktail server. That you?”
Mina laughed, the deep throaty rattle of a lifelong smoker. “Oh, yeah. I worked at Topanga’s for years.”
Paul nodded, impressed. Everyone knew Topanga’s, a roadhouse right outside Didsbury. As a child, Paul was always enthralled by the fleet of shining choppers lined up outside, and the bizarre ceramic heifer on the roof that symbolized —what? The minute he turned eighteen he made a pilgrimage to the bar. He lasted all of five minutes. Conversation had stopped dead the minute he and his preppie friends in their Oxford shirts and chinos walked through the door. Not wanting to go home with a pool cue through his head, he’d left promptly. If Mina could handle the crowd at Topanga’s, working at the Penalty Box would be a piece of cake.
“Why did you leave Topanga’s?” Paul asked.
“Rehab,” Mina said with a challenge in her eyes that dared him to judge her.
“And you’re clean and sober now?”
“As a whistle.”
“Can you work Friday and Saturday nights?”
“Yup.”
“Any days?”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with my kid’s schedule.”
Finally, some common ground. “Tuck’s a great kid.”
Mina snorted. “He thinks the sun shines out of your ass, that’s for sure.”
Paul smiled uncomfortably. If he did hire her, he’d have to make it clear he was her boss, and she really needed to show a little respect.
“Will we see you at some hockey games?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Mina flatly. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about that thing yesterday, Tuck bugging you and all.”
“It was fine,” Paul assured her. “Like I said, he’s a great kid.” He glanced at the clipboard on the bar. “All right, let me ask you some other stuff before we make it official.” He ran through the gamut of necessary questions: What kind of cash register did you work with before? How would you handle drunk customers? What would you do if another server asked you to give a free drink to a friend? How would you get to work? Mina gave all the right answers, so Paul hired her. That she was good looking was an added bonus—not only to the bar, but to her personally. The more tips she made, the better able she could provide for Tuck. Paul wanted the kid to have as easy a time of it as possible.
Paul tapped his pen against the clipboard. “Any questions?”
“Yeah. What do I have to wear?”
“Jeans are fine. I’ll give you a Penalty Box T-shirt when you come in on Thursday to train.”
Mina’s mouth twisted into a lascivious smirk. “Nice and tight, I suppose.”
“This is a business, Mina. I want to make money and so do you.”
“Hey, I’ve got no problem showing off the twins, believe me.”
Paul was no prude, but her bluntness had pink creeping up his neck. “Anything else?” he murmured.
“Yeah. Why’d you dump my sister?”
The question was completely inappropriate, of course, but there was such unexpected protectiveness in Mina’s voice he felt compelled to answer.
“I dumped her before she could dump me. I wanted to avoid humiliation.”
“So it was better to humiliate her instead?”
Was she really humiliated? Paul longed to ask. Does she miss me? Does she think it was a big fat mistake? Here was Katie’s sister right in front of him; if he wanted, he could ply her with questions and get answers that only she was privy to, perhaps.
“I’m sorry if your sister felt humiliated,” Paul said politely.
“Actually, I have no idea if she did,” Mina admitted. “I’m just assuming. You know Katie—total control freak. Her head must have popped off when you took the reins.” Mina assessed him. “Not that your relationship would have worked, anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” Paul replied with some irritation. “Why’s that?”
“Don’t take this wrong, okay? But I can’t see Katie settling down with—”
“A townie?”
“Well, yeah.” Mina was looking at Paul not as if he were her new employer, but some pitiful specimen. “I mean, why the hell did you come back here? There’s nothing going on. If I had your kind of money, this is the last place I would’ve wanted to end up. But that’s just me,” she concluded with surprising humility.
“Yes, it is.” Mina and Katie were more alike than Paul initially suspected. Mina was just more brutal in her phrasing.
“Though I think the hockey stuff you do is really nice.” Mina gathered herself up to leave. “Thursday, then?”
“Actually, Tuck has a game tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll see you there.”
“Right.”
It bothered Paul that Mina sounded as if she knew nothing about it.
“Well,” she continued, suddenly bashful as she eyed her scuffed Frye boots, “thanks. You know.” She lifted her eyes. “For giving me a chance and everything. A lot of people wouldn’t.”
“You’re very welcome.”
After she departed, the harshness of her words kept ringing in his head. This is the last place I would’ve wanted to end up. Paul glanced around at the memorabilia-draped walls of his bar. Was this really where he wanted to be?
“Mom, you have to stop crying.” Katie prided herself on being compassionate, but even she was growing weary of her mother’s tears, sniffles, and heavy sighs. It was like turning on the radio and always hearing the same song. “You�
��re acting like Tuck is dead!”
“He may as well be for all I get to see him.”
“It’s been less than a week! I’m sure he and Mina are readjusting to each other. And he’s got school. If you want to see him so badly, come with me to his hockey game tomorrow.”
Her mother brightened a bit. “There’s an idea.”
“Or call Mina. I’m sure you two could work out a time you could stop over and see how they’re getting on.” Of course, that was a bold-faced lie, but Katie was all for fibbing if it helped alleviate her mother’s whimpering.
Her mother shook her head vehemently. “I can’t go there.”
“What do you mean, ‘there’?”
“You know. Tully’s Basin.”
“Mom.”
“What if someone slashes my tires? Or robs me?”
“Or throws you to the ground and injects you with heroin and you become a hopeless junkie who has to turn tricks to support your habit and maintain your costly AARP membership?”
Her mother scowled. “You’re not funny, Katie.”
“And you’re not rational. I know Tully’s Basin can be iffy, so if you want, I’ll go with you. Just make sure you call first. I don’t want Mina squawking that we’re checking up on her or that we don’t think she can handle things.”
This seemed to appease her mother even as it filled Katie with a mounting sense of panic. She really didn’t have time to accompany her mother to Mina’s; she was falling further and further behind in the writing of her book. Her brain simply refused to buckle down. Thoughts of organizing material were constantly replaced by thoughts of Paul. Or Tuck. Or even Snake. She’d be damned if she’d ask for an extension, though. She’d lost weight and transformed her life via willpower, and if she had to draw on the same internal resources to meet her deadline, she would. So what if it meant she’d have no life over the summer? Work was her life, anyway.
“I almost forgot; this came for you.” Her mother handed her an oversize, cream-colored envelope with Katie’s name and address written out in calligraphic script, postmarked “Fallowfield.” Katie tore it open anxiously, deflating when she saw what it was.
“One of your colleagues getting married?” her mother asked.
“Yes. My friend Jo Laurie. Next month.”
Katie stared at the invitation in disbelief. Jo, a fellow sociology professor, had been having a discreet affair with one of her graduate students despite a ten-year age difference. Katie had met the young Romeo a few times—he was only a few years younger than she was—but she hadn’t been impressed. He wasn’t nearly as smart as her friend, and he seemed to take great pleasure in belittling Jo, a trait Katie couldn’t stand. Jo had to be pregnant; that was the only reason Katie could come up with for such hasty nuptials. Years before, Jo had been through an ugly divorce and an even uglier tenure battle. If this guy truly made her happy, Katie would keep her trap shut and wish her friend the best.
Even so, the idea of a wedding dampened Katie’s already soggy spirits. She’d gone solo to enough weddings to know they were really affairs designed for couples. Whomever she was seated with would spend the evening either trying to fix her up with their second cousin’s nephew’s neighbor, or else trying to conceal their pity for the academic old maid. She’d be urged to try to catch the bride’s bouquet. Colleagues’ husbands, pressed by their wives, would politely ask her to dance. She slid the invitation back into its envelope.
“Are you going?” her mother asked curiously.
“If I can find a date.” Katie smiled as a thought struck her. “How do you think Tuck would look in a tuxedo?”
CHAPTER 19
Katie had vowed she’d never again set foot in Tivoli Gardens again after her high school reunion. Yet here she was in the tacky schnitzel palace, collecting the ten-dollar entrance fees for the Youth Hockey Auction. The booster club had spent well over a month pulling the charity event together. Denise agreed to be auctioneer, and when Bitsy asked Katie to volunteer, she couldn’t turn her down. She wasn’t happy about working the door, however. Every parent of a child on Tuck’s team seemed to give her a dirty look as they handed over their money. Perhaps she should have worn a sandwich board screaming I’M NOT SEEING PAUL VAN DORN ANYMORE.
The Rhineland banquet room was filling rapidly, testament to the booster club’s hard work and the importance of youth hockey to the small, close-knit community. Originally the auction was going to be held in the high school gym, but Bitsy was convinced people wanted “bang for their buck.”
“Hi, Aunt Katie!”
Tuck trotted up to the banquet room door, Snake in tow. For a split second Katie wondered where Mina was, but then she remembered: logging hours at the Penalty Box. As far as she knew, her sister’s waitressing gig was working out fine. Mina didn’t say much about it and neither did Paul—not that Katie talked to him much these days.
“How much ya soakin’ us for?” Snake grumbled goodnaturedly while Tuck raced into the banquet room to secure good seats.
“Ten apiece.”
Snake whistled through his teeth. “Highway robbery.” He handed Katie a twenty. “I hope there’s some decent stuff to bid on.”
“Lots,” Katie assured him.
“Like—?”
“A homemade quilt, a massage, guitar lessons, a free one-hour legal consultation with Didsbury’s top attorney, dinner at the Country Club, pies—you name it.” She omitted mentioning the autographed hockey stick Paul had donated, as well the Blades jersey adorned with autographs from the current roster. She doubted Snake would be interested.
Snake stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “That legal consultation could come in handy after last night.” Katie pursed her lips in disapproval, prompting Snake to guffaw. “You’ve got no sense of humor, Sister Katie.”
Katie blushed. “Sorry.” Snake started into the banquet room, but paused when Katie called him back. “Thanks for all your help with Tuck.”
“Hey, I dig the little fucker, what can I say?” His language made Katie wince, but the sentiment behind it was genuine, and that was all that mattered. She thought back to the first time she met Snake, his concern that Tuck might somehow be “in the way” when Mina moved in. Her fears about him had vanished. In fact, Katie got the uneasy feeling that Snake was more attentive to her nephew than Mina was.
Snake departed, leaving Katie to face a long line of people wanting to get in the door. At the end of the line stood Paul.
“Hey,” he said when he finally advanced to the front.
“Hey yourself,” Katie replied, feeling self-conscious.
Paul’s expression was playful. “Do I still have to pay even though I’m one of the items being auctioned off?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Paul guided a ten dollar bill into her palm, his hand lingering a split second longer than it should have. Katie swallowed, putting the money in the cash box. “You’re the big-ticket item of the night, you know.”
Paul looked uncomfortable. “How sad is that?”
“I think it’s sweet you agreed to do it.”
“Really?” Paul sounded bemused. “Even though you and I both know that Liz Flaherty will outbid everyone and I’ll have to spend a night in horny divorcee hell?”
Paul was right, of course. Liz would take out a second mortgage on her house if it meant bagging a date with Paul. “It’s for a good cause,” Katie reminded him, though picturing them together irritated her.
“I suppose.”
She waited for him to saunter inside but he didn’t, even though the line forming behind him was beginning to back up. Instead, he moved off to the side so the next person could pay his entrance fee, remaining close enough to chat with her.
“How’s the book coming?”
“Terribly,” Katie confessed, returning Ambrose Wilbraham’s stony glare as he and his wife smirked at her and Paul. She was tempted to ask Paul to go inside. His standing with her would fuel more rumors in this gossip-driven town. Bu
t then she thought, too bad. People are allowed to talk to each other and if these putzes want to think we’re still an item, let them.
“How could your book be going terribly? You interviewed so many fascinating people.”
Katie shot him a sideways look, catching the mischievous look in his eyes. “Are you speaking of yourself?”
“Myself and others.” He took a step closer to her, near enough for her to inhale his scent. This time, she seriously wished he would go away. She had enough to worry about without his pheromones jumbling her senses.
Katie smiled wryly. “Nice to see your ego’s intact.”
“Something has to be. After dating you, I’m lucky I’m not in a permanent body cast.”
“That can be arranged.” The air was beginning to feel charged. A few more barbs and they’d cross over the line to flirting. Time to change the subject. “How’s my sister doing?”
“Okay,” Paul replied slowly.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“No, I’m sure.” He edged toward the doorway. “I guess I better get inside.”
“Need to change into your thong for the grand finale?”
“You wish.”
Actually, she did. She checked him out: Jeans, adidas, gray ribbed turtleneck. One of the outfits he looked best in. The shirt made his eyes look crystalline and sexy in a lycanthropic sort of way that hit her low in the belly every time. Eager for distraction, Katie pretended to organize bills in the cash box. “I think you’ll bring in a lot of money for the organization,” she told him when she finally had the courage to look at him without drooling.
Paul’s expression was tentative. “Maybe I’ll see you afterward.”
“Maybe.”
Katie knew Snake would offer the highest bid for one of Tabitha’s delicious lemon meringue pies; she remembered how disappointed he’d been when he didn’t have time for a slice of her mother’s cake the day they fetched Tuck. She herself had bid on—and won—a full body massage with Sage Dragonwagon, the most sought after massage therapist in town, probably because she was the only one.
The massage was all Katie intended to bid on. That is, until Paul stepped out on stage, triggering a chorus of female wolf whistles and catcalls.
The Penalty Box Page 22