by Ann Charles
Kate let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “First, I smash my car, then I get hauled off to jail for six hours, and as a final reward, my insurance agent gives me my walking papers after hearing about the accident.” Butch had insisted she go through her insurance company, damn it.
“Shit. They are going to pay for the damages, right?”
“Yes, but I’m going to have to find a new carrier to cover me for the drive home.” Kate sighed. “I picked a hell of a time to quit my job.”
Someone clapped twice, and the light flickered on.
Kate shielded her eyes.
“What do you mean you quit your job?” Deborah’s voice squeaked like pieces of Styrofoam rubbing together.
Kate winced and slid down her pillow. Damn it. She’d been so focused on reliving the day’s events that she hadn’t heard the sound of the bedroom door opening.
Deborah marched over to the couch, hands planted on her hips, and glared down at Kate. “Quitting is not part of the ten-year plan we put together.”
“You mean the plan you put together,” Claire said dryly.
“Don’t you start with me.” Deborah pointed a well-manicured fingernail at Claire. “You’re still in the dog house.”
“What did I do?” Claire rose from her seat on the table.
“It’s not what you did, but what you haven’t done yet.”
“Huh?”
“Neither of you realize how important it is to be able to take care of yourself.”
Sitting up, Kate frowned up at her mom. “What are you talking about? We’ve been taking care of ourselves for years.”
Deborah sneered down at her. “You call jumping from man to man or job to job taking care of yourself?”
Kate pressed back into the cushions as her mom loomed over her. “Maybe.” She shot a help-me glance at Claire.
“Well, it’s not. Each of you needs to find a nice man with a good-sized house, a hefty bank account, and a retirement plan that doesn’t involve winning the lotto.”
Claire closed the distance between them. “Mom—”
“You’ve both had plenty of time to get your act together and line up your ducks.” Deborah’s nostrils were flared, her cheeks rosy. All she needed was a pulpit. “But neither of you have paid attention to one word of advice I’ve given. I can see now that the only way you two are going to have secure futures is with my guidance.”
With a groan, Kate buried her face in a couch cushion. The last time she’d seen that determined glint in her mother’s eyes, Kate had ended up in grad school chasing a degree she wasn’t sure she wanted.
“Listen, Moth—” Claire started again, her tone strong.
“And I’m going to start with you.” Deborah whirled on Claire. “First, we need to find you a nice dress, a pretty sunhat, and a decent pair of sandals. Then we’ll get to work on doing something with that hair of yours.”
* * *
Saturday, August 14th
“Morning, darlin’,” Ruby said to Mac as he sat down at the kitchen table. She stood barefoot at the stove in a yellow checkered blouse and faded blue jeans, a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other, her smile welcoming. Eggs spit and sputtered in the frying pan in front of her.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Definitely.” The smell of freshly cooked bacon filled the house. He’d woken up chewing on his pillow.
The dinner plate-sized thermometer nailed to one of the clothesline posts outside the window showed eighty-seven degrees already—a good day to play around in a big wormhole in the ground. Ruby’s new air conditioner chugged away in the next room, keeping this part of the house cool.
“Thanks,” Mac said as Ruby handed him a plate of fried eggs, buttered toast, and crispy bacon. Taking the chair opposite him, she plunked down two mugs of coffee.
“Where are Harley and Jess?” He splashed some Tabasco sauce on his eggs. Besides the rattling of dishes in the sink, he hadn’t heard a peep in the house this morning.
“Harley drove Chester to Yuccaville for parts to fix Chester’s generator.” Ruby paused to sip her coffee. “Jess is still sleeping; at least she was when I looked in on her a bit ago. She didn’t get home from babysittin’ last night until two.”
Good, both were out of the picture. Mac had spent half the night missing Claire’s soft curves and sleepy murmurs, even though he was still ticked at her for running her mouth. The rest of the night he’d tossed and turned, stressing about Ruby.
“I’m worried about your burglar coming back.” He dipped a piece of toast in a slightly runny egg yolk.
“Harley and I are, too.” Ruby’s forehead wrinkled. “We’ve changed the locks and nailed the basement window closed. Plus, Jess knows to lock up before she turns off the light.”
“Good.”
“But if someone’s fixin’ to break in, they’ll find a way.”
That’s what he feared. “Where are the spare keys?”
“There are two sets: one in my nightstand, the other behind the bar.”
“Do you still have Joe’s old double-barreled 12-gauge and the snub-nosed .357 stashed in your closet?”
She nodded.
“You should probably let Claire know about both guns and where you keep the ammo, since she’ll be running the show here when Harley and you are on your honeymoon.” If anything happened to Claire and Jess while Ruby was gone, Mac would shift into Dirty Harry mode. “Make sure she knows how to use at least one of them.”
“Good idea.” Ruby sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I sure hate living like this. I keep bouncing back and forth between fixin’ to form a lynch mob and jumping at every little bump in the night.”
Mac hated to admit it, but maybe Claire had the right idea about hunting down the burglar. Playing defense day after day made sleeping soundly a pipedream, which reminded him of another question he’d pondered before the sun crested the horizon. “Where’s everyone going to sleep while you’re gone?”
“Jess will be in her own bed, of course. Deborah and Kate can choose if they want to shack up here or just stay in Harley’s R.V. Claire and you can sleep in our bed.”
“Not if Deborah has her way.” Mac stabbed at a piece of egg with his fork. He didn’t relish the idea of facing off with Claire’s mom over the next couple of weeks. “That woman makes Lizzie Borden seem like Minnie Mouse.”
“Now, Mac.” Ruby patted his arm. “I’m sure her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Have you been bitten yet?” He chomped on a piece of bacon, the smoky taste coating his tongue. Ah, bacon. It made everything tolerable, even Claire’s mom.
She stopped patting. “Uh, no. At least I don’t think so.”
“Well, I have, a couple of times now.”
He stirred his coffee, remembering the first time he’d met Claire’s mom and had listened to her pointed comments about Claire’s poor judgment when it came to picking men. Deborah had made it crystal clear that Mac was on the low end of her scale for suitable bachelors.
“She has sharp nails,” he warned. “Watch your back.”
Jess breezed into the kitchen, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, several envelopes in her hand. Smelling like fruity bubblegum, she flopped onto the seat next to Mac and smiled. “Mornin’. Who has sharp nails?” She turned to Ruby without missing a beat. “Can I have some coffee?”
Ruby pushed to her feet. “You can have some orange juice or tomato juice, but no coffee.”
“Come on, Mom.” Jess pouted.
“You know the deal, not until you’re sixteen.”
“That’s less than two weeks away. Just let me have half a cup now. C’mon, please.”
“Nope.” Setting a glass of orange juice on the table in front of Jess, Ruby kissed her daughter on the forehead.
“Fine.” Jess let out a long, loud sigh, obviously carrying the weight of the world on her freckled shoulders. She tossed the envelopes she’d been carrying onto the table. “So, who were you two talkin
g about?”
“Nobody. What are these?” Ruby picked up a letter with her name on it, her brows drawn as she tore it open.
“Yesterday’s mail. I grabbed it on the way to the Franklin’s house and forgot it was in my bag.” Jess stole a piece of bacon from Mac’s plate. “Who were you talking about when I walked in the kitchen?”
“A friend of Claire’s.” He lied, watching his aunt. Ruby’s cheeks paled visibly then flushed pepper red as her gaze trailed down the page. “What is it, Ruby?”
She handed him the paper. He recognized the letterhead immediately. Ruby’s new pen pal, Mr. Leo M. Scott, had written again.
Mac scanned the letter, his eyes focusing on the words deadline and court date.
“Christ!” He tossed the paper on the table. “It looks like we’re up shit creek again.”
Chapter Seven
“Claire?” Jess called as she burst through the R.V. door.
Claire stood in the hall outside of the bathroom, towel-drying her hair. She placed her finger against her lips and nudged her head toward the closed bedroom door.
Not wanting to wake the beast, she kept her voice low when she replied, “Morning, Jess.”
Kate groaned from the couch cushions, rolling so her back was to them. Henry hopped to the floor, stretched, and waddled over to his food bowl.
“Mac sent me to tell you he’s leaving,” Jess whispered and patted Henry on the top of his butt.
Claire dropped her towel. “What?” She stumbled forward, her feet as surprised as her brain. Last night he’d been pissed at her, but not mad enough to drive back to Tucson. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Nobody ever tells me anything.”
Claire glanced in the hallway mirror. After a couple of nights of staring wide-eyed at the ceiling with a bunch of “what-ifs” flapping around in her head, she looked scary enough to send Ruby’s guests running. But she’d have to forego a brush and makeup for now and just hope for a solar eclipse this morning. She needed to talk to Mac, to stop him before he raced off without hearing her explanation.
Slipping on her flip-flops, she grabbed her sunglasses and Henry’s leash from the kitchen counter.
“I brought you some breakfast.” Jess offered Claire a MoonPie with a bite-sized chunk missing.
“Thanks.” Claire exchanged Henry’s leash for food. “Let’s go. I want to try to catch Mac before he leaves.”
The humidity made the horizon wavy, as if Claire were staring at it through a fish tank. Henry led the way toward the General Store, straining at the leash, snapping at bees collecting pollen from the clover that lined the drive. They shifted to the shoulder, single file with Jess in front, as a mammoth-sized Fleetwood idled past. The curly-haired blonde behind the wheel waved and smiled, a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes swirling after her.
Jess coughed exaggeratedly and angled back onto the drive. Several steps later, she stopped, balanced on one foot, and took off her sandal, looking like a flamingo with those long, skinny legs of hers.
“Do you think the person who broke into our house was searching for my money?”
What money? Jess blew every penny she had on lip gloss and nail polish. “You mean your babysitting money? Come on, put your shoe on and let’s go.”
Jess shook a pebble from her sandal and slipped it back on. “No. The money Mom is going to give me when I graduate from high school.” She skipped along on the drive next to Claire. “You know. The money you found in Joe’s office last April.”
Claire’s step faltered for a moment. Oh, that money. This was news to Claire. The last she’d heard, Ruby hadn’t decided what to do with the cash.
Something smelled kind of anchovy-ish here. “When did your mom tell you the money was for you?”
“A while ago.” The girl’s gaze darted up, down, and all around—everywhere but in Claire’s direction.
Getting the truth out of Jess sometimes took a little arm twisting. “Jess, come clean, or I’ll tell Gramps you were the one who dipped Henry’s paws in blue paint.”
“Paintings by Henry” had been Jess’s big scheme back in June for making some quick cash. Unfortunately, Henry had confused the poster board for newspaper, leaving Jess with a dinner-plate sized pee puddle and several blue paw prints running off the edge of the thick paper and across the floor. Jess spent an hour spot cleaning the carpet so when Gramps and Ruby returned from Tucson they were none the wiser—except for the mysterious blue paint around Henry’s toenails.
“Darned dog.” Jess walked in silence for several seconds, no more skips in her step.
“Mom didn’t exactly tell me,” she clarified, kicking at a rock. “I overheard her and Harley talking about the money. He wants Mom to put it in some bank in Tucson until I go to college.”
“Well, there’s a good possibility that whoever broke into your house was looking for money.” Claire flip-flopped faster as the General Store came into view, along with the sight of Mac’s truck idling out front. “But I’d be surprised if the money from Joe’s office was the lure. I’m sure it was just a random hit from some meth-heads looking for quick cash.” She stole Mac’s earlier theory.
Okay, so she was a liar-liar-pants-on-fire, but she didn’t want Jess freaking out about the burglar coming back for the cash, especially with Ruby taking off on her honeymoon soon.
As they neared Mac’s truck, Claire noticed the cab was empty. He’d waited for her. The knots in her stomach unraveled.
“Are you sure?” Jess asked as they skirted Mac’s pickup. “That’s a lot of money. When I move to Cleve—”
“Very few people know that money exists.” Claire didn’t want to be an ear on Jess’s party-line when it came to daydreams about blowing the cash. That was between Jess and her maker—as in her mother.
“And it should stay that way, Jess, if you get my meaning.” Claire glanced at Jess, who was busy folding a piece of gum into her mouth. “You do get my meaning, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. What do you think I am? An idiot?” Jess took the porch steps two at a time.
No, just a babbling teenager. Pushing her sunglasses up on her head, Claire followed her onto the porch.
The screen door opened as Jess reached for the handle. “Your mom wants to talk to you,” Mac told his cousin and held the door for her.
“Now what?” Jess slipped past him into the store.
Sporting a golden tan, a fresh shave, jeans, and a T-shirt, Mac made her pheromones fly. Claire dropped her sunglasses back down, hiding her makeup-free, shadow-rimmed, bloodshot eyes.
Mac pulled the main door closed behind Jess and let the screen door bang shut.
“Morning, Slugger.” He kissed Claire on the lips, his breath minty-fresh.
Claire wished she’d taken the time to brush the fuzz from her teeth. The kiss ended before she had time to settle in and enjoy it.
“Where are you going?” She trailed down the porch steps after him.
He shoved his backpack behind the bench seat and stuffed a jug full of water next to it.
“Up to the Lucky Monk,” he said and climbed into his truck, pulling the door closed.
So, he wasn’t leaving her here alone with her mother. Relief loosened her shoulders. Claire leaned into the open window. Rolled maps, a hardhat with a light on it, and a collection of flashlights filled the passenger seat.
“Why?” she asked.
“Ruby received another letter from the attorney.” Mac adjusted one of the vents so that a cool blast of air whooshed over Claire’s arms. “Somebody is officially disputing her claim. She has to go to court at the end of this month.”
“Shit!” Claire ran her fingers through her hair. As if Ruby didn’t have enough on her plate with planning the wedding, Jess bucking orders, and Deborah just being in the same state. “What do you think you’ll find in the Lucky Monk?”
“Copper. Maybe some amethyst. Maybe nothing.”
“Then why waste your time in there?”
“I need to
assess the value of it. I didn’t check out the Lucky Monk last April. I was too busy messing around in the other mines.”
She didn’t like Mac going up there alone. Cave-ins occurred too often in old mines, especially with the mining company dynamiting out chunks of earth from nearby Roadrunner pit every day.
“Let me go with you.”
Mac shook his head. “Ruby needs your help.”
“Then wait until I’m free this afternoon.”
“I can’t. Harley will be back any minute now, and Ruby wants me gone before he gets here and figures out what I’m up to. She doesn’t want him to know anything about this.”
“She’s going to have to tell him sometime. How is she going to hide going to court?”
“That’s her problem, not mine.” He shifted into gear.
“Mac.” Claire grabbed his forearm. After a night of beating herself up for betraying his trust, she wanted a chance to explain. “I need to talk to you.”
“Save it for tonight,” he said.
“What’s tonight?”
“You and me in a queen-sized bed.”
The heat in his stare had her fanning her faded yellow Daffy Duck T-shirt. “Oh.”
“You can make it up to me then. Bring your tool belt.”
Her pulse danced as she remembered the last time she’d joined him in bed in nothing but her tool belt.
“I’ll be waiting.” She stepped back. “But I’m coming to look for you if you’re not back by sunset.”
“Deal.” He hit the gas, rolling away from her.
Claire watched Mac cross the bridge and speed down the road, her palms clammy at the thought of him alone in the mine. Shaking off all thoughts of doom and gloom, she climbed the porch steps and focused on cracking that damned safe.
The cool air inside the store slid across her skin, soaking up the heat. Ruby stood behind the counter, her arms crossed, a grin on her face.
Manny leaned against the opposite side of the counter, pointing down at the campground map taped there. A six pack of V-8 juice sweated onto the wood in front of him. “I’m just saying that if you cut down these trees here, it would make these sites in the middle more accessible.”