Why Did It Have to Be You?

by Allyson Charles

  “Me and David?” Her heart stuttered. Picking up the kitchen sponge, she scrubbed at an imaginary spot on the counter. “What? No. What?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, that was a convincing denial. I’d think you would’ve learned how to bullshit better from me.” Pushing off the counter, he crumpled the can in his hand and tossed it in the trash.

  Frowning, Connie picked it out of the garbage and put it in the recycle bin. “Sorry I’m such a disappointment. And, really, there’s nothing going on…” She bit her lip. The lie didn’t want to come out. Denying David felt like a betrayal. Which was silly. They’d agreed to keep the relationship secret. He wouldn’t mind.

  But it felt wrong. “We’re seeing each other. But with him being the defendant on my case, it’s awkward.”

  “That’s one word for it.” Opening the refrigerator, he bent into it, his rear end wiggling as he scrounged for a snack. His voice became muffled. “He’s got money, at least. I’ll give you that.”

  “I’m not with him for his money.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “No, you wouldn’t be.” He emerged with a jar of dill pickles. “But it never hurts.” A grimace crossed his face as he unscrewed the jar. “By the way, you need to go shopping. Fridge is near empty.”

  “Or, and I’m just throwing this out here, you could get a job and do some of your own shopping.” A flicker of shame burned in her chest. She shouldn’t speak to her dad that way. But her irritation was stronger. “I’m not a bed and breakfast.” Or if she was, she wasn’t good at billings.

  “I got a job,” he said around a mouthful of pickle. “Yesterday.”

  “What? Where?”

  “In Marysville, at the lumberyard.” He shrugged. “It’s not much. But I’m working the register instead of carrying wood, so that’s good. It’ll do for now.”

  “That’s great.” Now how to ask this delicately. “So, when will you…”

  “Move out?” Licking some juice off his finger, he lifted an eyebrow. “Soon. Trust me, I’m as anxious to be gone as you are to have me get. I miss cable, and being able to drink a beer in peace.” He put the jar on the counter next to its lid and wiped his hands on his pants. “My old trailer is still available. Bastard landlord sold some of my stuff, but the bed’s still there. I’m moving back tomorrow.”

  Knees weak, she gripped the edge of the counter to stay upright. She thanked all that was holy. She was getting her house back. Trying not to sound too cheerful that he was leaving, she said, “Well, if you need some help moving, let me know.”

  He nodded and shuffled into the living room, the TV turning on moments later. Connie was so happy, she didn’t even care that he’d left the pickles out. Screwing on the lid, she put them back and hopped up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She whistled through her shower and put on some comfortable yoga pants to finish her interrogatories. Her good mood carried her all the way to the spare bedroom on the ground floor that she used as an office.

  She’d forgotten to unleash Milo, and he was going to be one angry goat. She glanced out the window, expecting to see his trademarked death glare. What she saw was worse. The gate to Milo’s pen stood wide open.

  Racing outside, she launched herself from the porch and hit the ground running. The stupid goat wasn’t playing in his obstacle course. Wasn’t lounging in his goat home, which was more comfortable than some people enjoyed. He wasn’t smart enough to realize how good he had it.

  Connie trudged to the fence and fingered the loop of the red leash that matched his collar. It hung to a torn and ragged end.

  She walked her property calling Milo’s name until it became too dark to see where she was putting her feet. She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket as she trudged back to her house.

  David picked up on the second ring. “Hi. What’s up?”

  Feminine laughter sounded in the background. Cutlery clinked against plates. Connie pressed a hand to her other ear. “Where are you?”

  “At Grains and Grapes. I’m having drinks with some members of the Founders’ Day committee.”

  Right. He’d told her about going out for drinks tonight. “You went to Joe Rodriguez’s bar? That’s bold, considering he founded CCWP.”

  “Wasn’t my first choice.” A bar stool squeaked. The background sounds became muffled and he told someone he’d be right with them. David came back on the line. “Luckily, he’s not working tonight.”

  “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but Milo got out.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

  He didn’t say anything. A woman spoke softly next to him. Connie could have sworn it was Sue. Which fit. She was on the committee. But Connie’s stomach clenched just the same. She’d wondered about that woman and David before. The two of them made sense in a way she and David didn’t. “David?”

  “I’m sorry. But what do you expect me to do?”

  “Can you help me look?” Connie entered her house and went to the front door. She pulled a jacket off the coat hook and picked up her keys. Her father, she ignored. She knew he wouldn’t go out searching for a goat.

  “I’m sure he’ll come home when he gets hungry,” David said. “No need to worry.”

  “He’s not a dog.” And he wouldn’t come home when he got hungry. Not when there were plenty of prize-winning plants to munch on. “I could use a second set of eyes.”

  “Hold on a minute,” he told someone he was with. The ambient sounds grew quieter before he came back on the line. He’d obviously moved to a less noisy section of the bar. “Connie, I can’t get away right now. I’m sorry.”

  Pulling open her front door, she trotted to her Jeep. “But it’s not like you’re in a business meeting. This is just a schmooze-fest. Finding Milo is important.”

  “And winning Citizen of the Year isn’t?” His voice hardened. “You might not understand it, but this is business. Everything is related to business.”

  Her fingers on the door handle, she dropped her head until it rested against the top of the car. “Everything?”

  He blew out a long breath. “You know I didn’t mean everything. But I’m working on a big deal. And with the lawsuit and the problems at the Bohannon Development, I need a big deal.”

  Her stomach felt tight and twisty, and she pressed her palm flat against it. She shouldn’t be surprised. David was a ruthless businessman, and he didn’t apologize for it. He’d do whatever it took to secure his sister’s and nephew’s future. But somewhere along the way, Connie’s traitorous heart had started to hope that she’d become someone he’d fight for too. Someone he’d drop everything for.

  But she wasn’t his family. She huffed out a strangled laugh. She couldn’t even get her own dad to take his feet off her coffee table. Why would David leave a meeting just to help her?

  “Forget it. Of course you need to stay.” She scratched at a flake of paint on the roof of the Jeep until it chipped off. “And don’t worry about Milo. I’ll find him.”

  “Connie, as soon as drinks are over, I’ll call you.”

  “That’s okay.” She cleared her throat. She needed to get over herself. So David was too busy for her. It happened.

  “There’s only a couple days until the parade, and I think the committee will make their decision tomorrow.” A platter crashed to the floor in the background. “If I win this award, doors will open.”

  Connie didn’t see how a local award would help land a deal, but she hadn’t built a multi-million dollar contracting company. He knew what he was doing. If only her path forward was as clear.

  Sliding behind the wheel, she started the Jeep. “Go back to your drinks. I’ll talk to you later.” Disconnecting, she tossed her phone on the passenger seat. She pulled a U-turn, and bumped down her driveway. She motored around the neighborhood, peering into yards, her headlights illuminating only a small swath of land. The goat was probably hiding just out of sight, having a good laugh as she drove aro
und in circles. Expanding her search pattern, she drove downtown.

  Banners advertising the Founders’ Day parade flapped from each light pole on the main streets, the text on each flag indecipherable in the dim streetlights. Movement on the corner of Main and Cypress caught her eye. She gunned her engine, startling Miss Eugenie and Mrs. Garcia when she squealed to a stop next to them.

  Connie climbed out of the Jeep. “Sorry for scaring you. I thought you were Milo.”

  Mrs. Garcia shoved something into the large black bag slung across her chest. A white string trailed over the side. “Who’s Milo?”

  Connie walked over to the dog at Miss Eugenie’s side, bending over to pat Shep’s head. “He’s my goat. Any chance you’ve seen one walking around?”

  Mrs. Garcia widened her eyes, the whites glimmering under the street light. “A goat? Why on earth—”

  “You mean the goat that ate my begonias and attacked poor Marigold Giles? That goat?” Miss Eugenie tapped the toe of her white orthopedics on the sidewalk. The knee-high nylon on her right leg rolled down an inch, exposing a stretch of liver-spotted skin between the sock and the hem of her tea-length dress.

  “Uh, yeah, that goat.” Connie rubbed her nose. “He’s normally very sweet-tempered.” She looked into the sky, waiting for lighting to strike her dead for such a flagrant lie. “Very well-behaved.”

  “I’m sure,” Miss Eugenie said, sounding anything but. “Well, we haven’t been accosted so he isn’t nearby.”

  “Accosted?” Mrs. Garcia’s mouth opened and closed like a guppy out of water. She peered down Main Street, then looked behind her, her hands clenched on her bag as if she expected to be jumped any second.

  “Will you call me if you see him?” She looked at Miss Eugenie. “You have my number, right?” The woman was diligent about keeping the contact information of all her neighbors. She said you never knew when a natural disaster could strike and you’d need to check in on everyone.

  “I do.” Miss Eugenie pressed her lips into a straight line. “But my first call will be to animal control. That goat ruined my garden. That’s a property crime. He has to pay for his mistakes, just like everyone else.”

  Connie crossed her arms across her chest. “And did you pay for your mistakes when Judge Nichols sentenced you to only three months of candy-striper duty for multiple instances of theft last Christmas?” Both older women objected loudly. Connie ignored them, pointing at the one traffic light downtown. “Like the punishment you should get for doing that to public property?”

  The pedestrian light had been covered in a knit cat. A stuffed head rested on top of the box. White knitting surrounded the square making it look like the body of the cat, with a convenient hole cut in the stomach to let pedestrians still see the red hand or green walking man. And a long white tail hung almost to the ground.

  “We didn’t—” Mrs. Garcia started.

  “It’s not ruining anything.” Miss Eugenie jutted out her jaw. “It can be taken off with no damage to property.”

  “Well, really.” Mrs. Garcia tugged at the lapels of her black overcoat. Shep stepped close and leaned into her thigh. She stroked his shoulder distractedly.

  “Give it up, Debbie.” Shaking her head, Miss Eugenie blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s no use denying it when the evidence is not so well hidden in your purse.”

  Catching them tonight was confirmation, but Connie had already suspected they were behind the random acts of knitting. Everyone in Pineville probably knew they were responsible. She looked at their latest addition. “How did you get the knitting up there?”

  Miss Eugenie pointed to an old Buick parked illegally next to the light. “Debbie stood on the hood of her car. That one wasn’t hard. It was the one we put around the parking garage sign that nearly did us in.” She shifted her weight. “But like I said, there’s no damage done. No crime.”

  “Could be considered littering.” Connie shrugged. “Do you want to take the chance of being a repeat offender?” So she was laying it on thick. But Milo’s welfare was at stake. Besides, Miss Eugenie didn’t really want to narc on her goat. The woman put on a good act of being cantankerous, but deep down she was a softie.

  “It’s not litter! It’s art,” Mrs. Garcia said.

  Her friend patted her arm. “Now, now, Debbie. Connie is just trying to…”

  “Get your goat?” Connie said. She and Miss Eugenie shared a grin.

  “We’ll keep an eye out for him,” her neighbor said grudgingly.

  “Hmmph.” Mrs. Garcia turned and strolled down the sidewalk, everyone else falling into step behind. “What does he look like?”

  “Well, he’s about—”

  “He looks like a goat,” Connie interrupted. “If you see any goat, let me know.” Jeez. She couldn’t take another police description of Milo. She just couldn’t.

  “Why isn’t your young man helping you look?” Miss Eugenie asked.

  Mrs. Garcia paused. “What young man?”

  “Uh…” Connie’s mind whirled. These two women were notorious gossips. She was surprised Miss Eugenie hadn’t already let her secret leak. But if Mrs. Garcia knew, it would be all over town before sunrise that she and David were hooking up.

  Miss Eugenie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I assumed someone her age would have lots of boyfriends running around. No one in particular.”

  Looking Connie up and down before turning and marching ahead, Mrs. Garcia nodded. “Indeed.”

  Connie stepped in close to Miss Eugenie. “Thanks for covering. And he’s busy.”

  “Too busy to help you find a beloved pet?” Miss Eugenie tsked. Connie was about to correct her; “beloved pet” was a step too far. But the older woman kept right on whispering. “In my day, if a woman was giving a man what you were giving young David, he did things for her. Changed her car’s oil, mowed her lawn.”

  Connie bit back a chuckle, and it morphed into an inelegant snort. Miss Eugenie’s urban dictionary obviously hadn’t taught her about that double entendre.

  “A man would certainly look for a lost animal, if he wanted to keep receiving her favors.” Miss Eugenie paused when Shep stopped to smell a fire plug. “And by favors, I mean—”

  “I got it.”

  Mrs. Garcia stopped about twenty paces ahead, waiting for them to catch up. Miss Eugenie lowered her voice. “And from what I saw, you were giving David a really big favor.”

  Heat bloomed over Connie’s face. She made a noncommittal sound.

  “Not that I approve of that sort of thing, of course,” Miss Eugenie said. Shep gave up on the hydrant and waddled toward Mrs. Garcia. Miss Eugenie followed more slowly. “I wonder if you girls do it differently nowadays. Maybe you can come over for tea sometime and we can compare notes.”

  Where was that lightning bolt when she needed it? This was worse than when her father had given her the sex talk and a handful of condoms when she’d turned fifteen. “Oh, look.” Connie pointed down the block at a squad car silently cruising the street. “I bet that’s Jerome. I’m going to go flag him down and see if he’s heard anything about Milo. Have a good night.”

  She fled as fast as her legs would carry her. Anything to get away. And who knew? Maybe Jerome would help her locate Milo. Just because one man was too busy for her tonight didn’t mean another would be. Especially when he was legally obligated to help a citizen in need.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Good play, Bobby!” David slapped his clipboard against his thigh, and looked with satisfaction around the baseball diamond. It was the ninth inning and the Panthers were down by two, but so far they’d stayed competitive. They’d only committed one error and their bats were picking up. Definite improvement.

  The next player popped out, and the Panthers jogged off the field. David slapped Bobby on the back as he walked to the bench. “That was a great throw. Dead accurate.”

  His small face flushed red, clashing with his carrot hair. “Tha
nks, Coach. I’ve been practicing what you taught me.”

  David took a deep breath, savoring the moment. He looked into the stands, his gaze latching onto Connie. She was sitting with some CCWP members, but he knew she’d come for him. She laughed at something the man next to her said, but David could tell her heart wasn’t in it. They still hadn’t found that damn goat, and for some reason, she was losing sleep over it.

  The thing was cute enough, he supposed, but its relations made delicious goat tacos at Pedro’s Cantina, so he couldn’t muster too much concern. But Milo was important to Connie, so he kept looking.

  The umpire called a high strike on the Panthers’ first batter. Boos erupted from the stands. David cupped his hands around his mouth. “Stay in there, Cedric. You got this.” Cedric was by far their most promising hitter, and David had him batting clean-up. And the kid didn’t disappoint. He hit a wicked line-drive. Right into the third baseman’s glove. “Next time,” David told him as Cedric trotted to the bench.

  The next two batters went down in order, and the game was over. David called the kids together and they formed a circle around him. Pushing his ball cap up his forehead, David gave the team a big smile. “I know we lost today, but we have nothing to be ashamed about. You guys played a great game, and I couldn’t be more proud. And at the rate you kids are improving, you’ll have the championships in the bag next year for sure.”

  Crooked grins met that pronouncement. “Sure thing, Coach.”

  “Now, go congratulate the other team, and tell your parents that dinner’s on me at The Pizza Pit.”

  Bobby whooped, and the kids scrambled to get in line in the infield. They walked past the other team, high-fiving and chattering. David fell into step behind them. His pizza announcement had definitely trumped his pep talk. Maybe he should start bribing them with food at practice.

  Reaching the end of the handshake line, David turned and found Colt and Sadie standing with Lee and Bobby at third base. Lee tousled his son’s hair. “Good game.”

  “Your defense was excellent today,” Sadie said.