by Beth Andrews
She sipped her drink and stared at the bottle of beer Joe had placed on the corner shelf beside her. A plate appeared in front of her and she jumped.
“You okay?”
“I was thinking about that poor little girl.”
“Little girl?”
“The one Cal talked about. From the motel.”
“It was a boy.” They exchanged somber looks then Joe nodded at her stomach. “Feeling better?”
“I am. Thanks for looking out for me.”
He started to say something then shrugged. “The better you feel—”
“The harder I work. So you’ve said.”
“About that.” He drank a mouthful of beer, took his time setting the bottle back on the shelf...took even more time positioning it so the label faced out. And at last he met her gaze.
“Are you...could you possibly be...”
“Hey, handsome.” A tall, slender woman with a mass of long, white-blond hair sauntered over. She had a small digital camera in one hand and a plastic cup of lime-green punch in the other. “Why are you two hiding out over here? If you’re looking for privacy you should have stayed back at the motel.”
Joe smiled, and held his plate out of the way as he gave the woman a hug. “Allison and I used to work together.” To Allison he said, “Ivy Millbrook runs the local dairy farm.”
“Nice to meet you, Allison. I’ve heard a lot about you. Of course, I’ve heard more about poor Mitzi.”
Joe retrieved his beer. “If you’re calling her ‘poor Mitzi’ that means you’ve been talking to Snoozy. Have you seen her yet? Trust me, that snake had it made.”
Ivy waggled the camera. “Ah, yes, the proud father’s making introductions. I’ve never seen him so animated. I bet you two were just as animated when you found her.” She laughed, then for Allison’s benefit pulled a sympathetic face. “I heard about all the joking at the diner. That place is like one big kitchen party. Living in D.C., you’re probably used to more anonymity.”
“It was a little overwhelming at first.” Allison didn’t dare look at Joe. “But everyone is so friendly.”
“Don’t tell me—I can read between the lines. Rachel waited on you, didn’t she? Bless her heart—she’s been in love with Joe since day one. She can be a little cross, but that’s only because Priscilla Mae beat her out for Lilac Queen. Did you at least try one of Cal’s cinnamon rolls?”
Joe shook his head. “Liz charmed it out of her.”
“Shame on you.” Ivy punched him lightly on the biceps. “You need to take better care of your guests. You know how Cal likes to show off for visitors. Hey, why don’t you bring Allison out to the farm? I can give her a tour, and then show you where I’d like those bookshelves.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I told you the moment you brought them up I don’t have—”
“Time. I remember.” She rolled her eyes at Allison. “What are we going to do with this guy? So allergic to commitment he won’t even take on a little DIY project.”
“Because I’m busy with my own little DIY project. And I think you’re missing the irony of calling it DIY. Anyway, didn’t Seth offer to do it for you?”
“There are many things I’d love Seth to do for me. But the bookshelves aren’t going in my bedroom.”
Silence. Ivy winked at Allison but looked all innocence for Joe. “TMI?”
“Instead of filling Allison in on your love life, why don’t you tell her about Priscilla Mae?”
“She was one of yours?”
“She still is.” Ivy’s smile was affectionate. “She’s too old to provide milk but not too old to be the farm’s main attraction. Kids love having their picture taken with her. You should come see for yourself. Breathe some fresh air, learn about dairy farming, maybe even milk a cow or two.”
Joe grunted. “You have more than a hundred animals out there, including horses and chickens. I don’t think what she’ll be breathing is fresh air.”
Ivy ignored him. “So what do you say?” When Allison didn’t answer right away, Ivy laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Besides, one slice of my cheesecake will more than make up for the muck you get on your boots. Even if you can’t make it by the farm, don’t you dare leave Castle Creek without trying one of Cal’s cinnamon rolls. In fact, I’d love to meet you for coffee before you go. That is, if Mr. Fixit here ever lets you take a break. Not counting tonight, I mean.”
Allison promised to give her a call and Ivy headed in the direction of the punch bowl. Joe nodded at Allison’s plate.
“You need to eat,” he said, gently but firmly.
She stabbed her fork into a fat strawberry as a roar of approval went up around the pool table. “What’s got everyone so excited over there?”
“Bet it’s Burke. That guy can clear a table faster than...well, faster than Mitzi can clear a motel room.”
“Very funny.” She speared a blueberry this time, and motioned with her chin toward the crowd. “Do you play?”
He stared at her fruit salad. “How about we trade questions again? I’ll answer yours first.”
“O-kay.” And here she’d just gotten rid of her nausea. She put down her fork and reached for her drink.
“I’ve been known to play pool,” he said. “But I’m better at poker. My turn to ask a question. Are you pregnant?”
She choked. Wait, what? Club soda sloshed. Joe rescued her cup as she stared down at the puddle on her plate, struggling to decide if she’d heard him right. When she didn’t say anything, Joe set his jaw.
“You should have told me first thing. I’d never have—” He looked around, rubbed his fingers over his chin and lowered his voice. “You’re working too hard. And even though you’re wearing a mask, breathing in all that dust can’t be good for the baby. You need to go back to D.C., stick close to your doctor.”
Yep. She’d heard right. He thought she was pregnant.
Allison stared, vocal cords rigid as she wavered between anger and astonishment. And an overpowering desire to fall down laughing. Not that she was an expert on babies, but didn’t making one usually involve sex?
Which meant motherhood was completely out of her current realm of possibility.
She finally managed to recover her voice. “Are you kidding me with this? What on earth makes you think I’m having a baby?”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s good.” He picked up his beer, drained it and nodded at her glass. “Ready for another?”
She ignored a trickle of uneasiness. If he drank too much, she’d simply confiscate his keys. She’d done it before, she could do it again.
Difference was, this would be the last time.
“Why is that good?”
He made a gesture with the empty bottle, as if searching for the words. Then his expression turned grim and his arm dropped to his side. “What if something happened while you were here? Something...irrevocable? It would be my—wait.” Regret flickered across his gaze. “Unless you’re trying to start a family.”
“No.” God, no. Maybe someday, but— “Why did you think I might be pregnant?”
“You asked for club soda instead of wine, a whiff of popcorn made you sick and...well, raising a kid can’t be cheap. It would explain why you need money.”
So would a mother with a gambling addiction.
“But I should have known better,” he said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t like to get involved in something unless you know the outcome. Which is why you didn’t want to go back to the motel today. Not so much because of the snake, but because you don’t like surprises.”
She blinked. He’d all but accused her of being predictable—might as well just call her dull. “Would anyone like that kin
d of surprise?” she murmured.
“Are you talking about discovering Mitzi?” An elegant, fifty-something woman with short blond hair eased closer. Allison swallowed an envious moan. The woman’s Misook pantsuit was spectacular—and made Allison mourn anew the loss of her designer wardrobe.
“Eugenia.” Joe helped himself to another hug. Huh. She’d never known him to be a hugger. “Allison, this is Eugenia Blue, owner of the finest dress shop in town.”
The woman laughed and held out a slim hand. “I own the only dress shop in town.”
“If your store is anything like your outfit, it has to be a hit.”
“Why, thank you. With this economy, it’s taken a hit, but I’m hanging in. You should come by. We could dip over to the diner for coffee.” She put a manicured hand on Allison’s arm and leaned in. “Have you heard about Cal’s cinnamon rolls?”
Allison laughed. Did everyone in this town have a sweet tooth? “As a matter of fact, I have. Trying one is at the top of my ‘do before you leave town’ list.”
Right under “Joe.”
Her own thought shocked her. She didn’t mean it. Of course she didn’t mean it. Still, her face grew warm.... At least she hadn’t said the words out loud.
Eugenia must have sensed something because she cut her eyes at Joe. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll decide you like Castle Creek too much to leave.”
Joe didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Where’s Harris tonight?”
“At home with Natalie. Parker and I decided to enjoy a girls’ night out, so we volunteered Harris for an evening of Barbie dolls and Ellery Queen.”
“The show from the seventies?”
“Reid turned her on to it.”
“That’s quite a combination.” Turning to Allison, Joe said, “Harris was at the diner when we were there earlier. He’s the one who told the joke about the pythons getting hitched.”
The knee-slapper. “So Harris is your husband?”
Eugenia hesitated, and licked her lips. Joe frowned over at the older woman, looking like he wanted to comfort her. Meanwhile Allison could have kicked herself—she’d obviously said the wrong thing. She scrambled for something else to say, something innocuous to break the tension.
Saved by the bell, so to speak, her cell rang and it was all she could do not to slump to the floor in relief. She plucked her phone from her pocket, eyed the screen and offered Eugenia an apologetic smile. “I should take this.” Of course, even if it was Sammy on the other end of the call she’d have taken it. No sense in standing there gawking while Eugenia Blue struggled to find a suitable answer to Allison’s artless question.
She excused herself, and headed for the parking lot.
“Maggie, how are you?” She hadn’t talked to her former college roommate in months. Yet another testament to Allison’s preoccupation with her job. “Is everything okay?” She held her breath. Considering how out of touch they’d become, she had a feeling her friend was calling with bad news.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. You could have called me yourself, Allie. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Things like this happen.”
Allison frowned as she leaned against the bumper of Joe’s truck. “What are you talking about?”
“You know. The loan.”
Dear God in heaven. Allison’s nausea came back full force. She bent forward at the waist and gulped in air. “Please tell me my mother didn’t call you and ask for money.”
“But...she did. She said you’d made some bad investments and if you didn’t make a payment in the next few days, you’d lose your condo. I promised to put a check in the mail tomorrow.”
Oh, no. Oh, God. Mortified heat flashed through Allison, making her dizzy. The lengths her mother was willing to go to get back to the blackjack table... She swallowed, and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Please do not do that, Maggie. The money isn’t for me. It’s for my mother. She has a gambling problem.”
“Oh. Oh, Allison, I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” The door to the bar opened, releasing strains of Jim Stafford’s “Spiders and Snakes.” Allison’s lips twisted—she’d bet her last handful of M&M’s that Snoozy was at that very moment hunched over Liz’s laptop, desperate to fast-forward to another song. Along with the music drifting through the open doorway came the sound of friendly laughter, the muted thwack of pool ball hitting pool ball, and a man and a woman with their arms wrapped so tightly around each other they looked like they’d been caught naked in a blizzard. As they walked past, the man dropped his hand from the woman’s shoulder and squeezed her butt. Allison looked away and the woman giggled before they disappeared behind an SUV.
Allison should have known her mother wouldn’t give in so easily.
“Thank you for being so willing to help me, Maggie,” she murmured into the phone. “I can’t apologize enough for what my mother tried to do.”
“It’s not your fault, Allison. But you should know that she asked for Dee’s number.”
Allison tipped her head back and opened her mouth wide in a silent scream. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d need to warn her friends about her mother. As soon as she got back to her room, she’d send an email to everyone on her contacts list. But first—
Two seconds later she had her mother on the phone.
“You told me you had a sure bet. By any chance would it have something to do with extorting money from my friends?”
“Borrowing. I’m borrowing money from your friends. And you should be flattered. They’re anxious to help. And why not let them, if it makes them happy? People need to feel needed.”
“So you’re saying you’re doing them a favor.”
“Exactly.”
She could picture her mother beaming. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Who else besides Maggie have you called?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Allie girl, and I don’t—”
“Who else?”
Her mother sniffled. “Dee. And I don’t see why I can’t accept the money. She has plenty to spare. She must, since she promised to send—”
“I don’t want to know. I’m calling her right now and telling her not to write that check. And I’m warning all my other friends about you. This is unbelievable, Mom. I never thought you’d exploit me like this. Get help. And get it from someone else. I’m all tapped out.”
In more ways than one.
She disconnected the call and concentrated on breathing. On dislodging the searing weight that pressed against her chest. Between the work schedule that left her little time for socializing and her mother’s greed, Allison would be lucky to have any friends left.
Her cell rang again. Tackett this time.
When it rains, it pours.
But she couldn’t ignore him forever.
Minutes later she ended yet another call feeling drained. Give me good news, Kincaid. Was Gallahan still on for D.C? Was she making herself indispensable? Did she think he would consider coming back on a permanent basis?
Yes. Hardly. For Joe’s sake she hoped the hell not.
Of course, out loud, she answered yes to every question. At the same time she wondered when exactly she’d accepted that Joe didn’t belong in D.C. He belonged here. She was the one who belonged in D.C. And the thought wasn’t as comforting as it used to be.
Her own mother. God.
“You all right, dear?” Allison hadn’t even heard Audrey come outside. The older woman stood on the pavement in front of her, legs spread and arms akimbo. She’d dressed for the party by exchanging her pink pants for a pair of baggy jeans. And over top of her Go Army T-shirt she wore some sort of faux leather jacket. In the dim light it was hard to tell but... Allison looked closer and winced. Yep. Snakeskin.
“Shall I fetch Joseph for you?”
/> Blinking furiously, Allison pushed upright. As much as she wanted to crawl under the covers and hide—her own covers, in her own bed, in her own apartment—she could wallow in self-pity later. Probably in the shower, where everyone in the movies pretended no one could hear them cry.
“No, thank you.” She cleared the thickness from her throat. “I came out to take a call and got distracted by the stars. Amazing how many you can see when there aren’t any city lights to turn night into day.”
“Such a poetic prevarication. I’ll say good-night, then. Don’t forget to eat some fruit.”
With a wave Audrey headed for her Lincoln. Allison swiped at her cheeks and watched her go. She breathed in, caught the scent of engine exhaust laced with something blooming—gardenia?—and went back inside.
Joe looked pensive as he stood with the crowd surrounding the pool table, where Noble played with a bearded man wearing navy coveralls. When Joe spotted Allison he waved her over, and bent down so she could hear him.
“Everything okay?”
She wasn’t even going there. “Yep. What about you? You’re looking solemn.”
He raised his beer. “Not for long. Hey, Snoozy’s looking for you. He wants to take us upstairs to see Mitzi.” She jumped when he suddenly shouted along with the crowd and pumped his fist in the air. Someone must have made a tough shot. She couldn’t have seen it if she’d wanted to—the guy in front of her was almost as big as Noble.
“Oh, and that’s Pete Lowry,” Joe said, bending again. He gestured at Noble’s opponent. “He owns the local service station. Said you should give him a call if you ever have trouble with your Camry.”
“How...nice.” And that was her undoing. Here a perfect stranger had offered to look out for her, while her own mother didn’t think twice about taking advantage. Tears scalded the backs of her eyes and she whirled toward the bathroom. Joe said something, asked some question. “Restroom,” she managed, and hurried to the rear of the bar before she fell to the floor in a howling mess.
The restrooms were at the end of a short hallway. She tried the door marked Ladies and found it locked. Please hurry. She folded her arms and slumped against the wall to wait.