by Leger, Lori
“I guess that makes us even, then. You’re the reason I never came back.” Her words were the ultimate insult. An icy proclamation of bitterness and anger.
Before he could reply, she’d spun on her heels and walked out, leaving the batteries there on the counter. The only sign she’d even been there was the echoing jingle of the door’s bell and the lingering fragrance of Chanel No. 5.
Some things definitely never changed.
Melinda Dawson slammed her car door, blocking out the sound of everything but the hammering of her heartbeat. Greg Hart—the man who’d left town without leaving any kind of message for her. Who’d never written her back the entire time she was at the home. Never sent a letter to either her, or her parents’ home to let anyone know how to contact him. Nothing. And he had the nerve to accuse her of breaking his heart?
“Well, ain’t that a kick in the teeth?” she murmured. It took several tries to get her shaking hands to slide the key into her car’s ignition.
Her peripheral vision caught his tall form standing in the doorway, watching her peel out and away from the curb in front of his shop.
How the hell had she managed to end up in the one shop, with the one person in town she didn’t want to see?
Dad.
“I need batteries for my remote, Mel,” she mimicked, repeating her dad’s complaint first thing this morning. “They’re special batteries I only get from McCray Electronics. Could you go pick some up for me?” Melinda snorted in disgust as she pulled into her dad’s driveway three blocks away.
She stalked inside her childhood home, closing the door firmly behind her and throwing her keys in the bowl on the snack bar. The sight of her dad relaxing in his recliner flared-up her anger all over again. “You know, you could have warned me, Dad.”
“About what?” Lawrence Dawson asked his daughter, looking innocently unaware that he’d set her up.
“That Greg Hart works in the electronic shop.”
“He doesn’t work in it, he owns it. Adele Hayes works in it.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man who’d grown frail during the thirty years she’d spent in Texas. She could count her visits home on one hand in all those years. The number of times Greg’s name had been mentioned during those infrequent visits had been zero.
“Well, he was sure as hell there this morning.” She crossed her arms tightly, still feeling the sting of Greg’s totally uncalled for comment.
“Really? Hmmm, hope Adele’s not sick or something. Since your mom’s gone I don’t get to hear the scuttlebutt around town. Don’t know who’s sick or on vacation or what. So, where are my batteries?”
Melinda dropped her head and cursed.
“Nice language for a lady. If your mother were here—”
“She’s not, Dad. And you’re lecturing me on language? Really?” She fished her car keys out of the bowl and headed back outside.
“Dammit!” She slammed her car door again and threw her purse on the seat. Her car’s engine roared to life, punctuating a single thought. She’d drive across the state for batteries before she’d voluntarily face that man again.
She pulled into the parking lot of the only anything-but-super super market in her tiny home town. By the time she’d thrown her keys in her purse and gripped the door handle, a large hand landed with a slap on her closed window.
“What the hell?” She pushed her door open, staring in annoyance at the damp hand print on her previously spotless driver’s side window. She swung the door wide an instant before a pair of laced boots and jeans clad legs blocked her from stepping out of her car. Two seconds later he was squatting before her—eye to eye. She sat there staring, for the second time that morning, into the face of Greg Hart.
Thirty years had changed the boy into a man, put lines around his eyes that weren’t there before, and peppered his hair with streaks of silver. Damn if it didn’t make him look better than he had at nineteen years old. She thought of the box of Nice and Easy she’d bought last week to touch up her roots. Pictured it, sitting in the bathroom cabinet at her dad’s house, and grew irritated all over again. Some days it just sucked so bad being a woman in a man’s world.
She lowered her chin and glared at him over the top of her twenty dollar sunglasses. “Are you stalking me?”
“I’m a retired Marine, Melin. If I wanted to stalk you, there isn’t a damn thing you could do to stop me. But no, I’m not stalking you.”
“Move out of my way.”
He didn’t.
“Are you trying to push me into calling the cops?”
He shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ll get out of it.” He held up two fingers and grinned. “The mayor and I are this close. Besides, I just came to bring you these. I figured you were picking them up for your dad.” He threw them on the seat and stood.
“We may not be the big metropolis of Houston, Texas, Ms. Dawson, but we still do things like that for each other around here.”
She didn’t catch her breath until he was several feet away from her. “Hey!” she called out. “Since you’re flaunting knowing the mayor in my face, who is this lowlife you’re so tight with?”
He stopped and turned on his heel to face her, wearing the most irritatingly sexy grin she’d seen on a man in a long, long time. He slapped his chest twice with both hands then extended his arms.
“You’re looking at him.” He bowed at the waist.
The mild expletive exploded from Melinda’s mouth before she could stop herself. She frowned as she heard the deep rumble of a chuckle coming from the smug man she would have died for so many years ago.
“Wait, I still owe you money for these.”
He took one step back, then another, still facing her. “You owe me for a lot of things, Melin. Maybe we could take it out in trade one of these days.”
The sexist comment had her seething inside, wanting to slap that smug grin right off of his face. Instead, Melinda kept her cool. She picked up the four-pack of batteries and stood, facing him. She flung it at him in a precise arc that landed at his feet.
“Keep it, Mr. Hart. I’ll buy some while I’m here.”
“But you’re going to pay twice as much as I’d charge you,” he called after her.
She turned, throwing a comment over her shoulder. “And it’ll be worth every last cent.”
“Melin! It’s so good to see you. Get in here, girl.”
Melinda hugged the woman she’d been buddies with since first grade. Even a few brief visits during their two thousand mile separation hadn’t put a stop to their friendship. She stepped inside “This place is gorgeous, Cyn. Look at that classic detailing,” she said, running her hand along the carved wood trim of the door frame and wainscoting. “Is this original to the house or due to a remodel?”
“Oh, please. You know I don’t have a creative bone in my body. That’s your thing, not mine. We bought it just the way it is, but we work hard at giving this place that ‘lived-in’ look.”
Melinda laughed at the tiny blonde with big blue eyes. “God you look good, girl. I bet you haven’t gained an ounce since high school. How do you stay looking so young?”
“I run.”
“Really? Like marathons and events like that?”
“Nope. I run my daughter to dance line practice, to softball practice, and gymnastics. I run my son to track and swim meets. I run back and forth for Matt’s dry cleaning, I run to the store, I run to pay bills and keep food in the fridge. Those kids eat me out of house and home. And when they bring their friends over, it’s even worse. I swear I’ll have to take out a loan just to keep them fed soon.”
“Yeah, right—Mrs. ‘I married one of the most successful orthopedic surgeons in Washington State’.”
Cynthia put her head back and laughed. “Honey, those kids can cut through a paycheck like a hot knife through a batch of summer honey. If you had kids, you’d kno…Oh…I mean…Melin, I’m so sorry.”
Melinda smiled sadly and placed a comforting hand o
n Cynthia’s arm. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t think sometimes,” Cyn said, as she slapped at her own head. “I just talk and talk without thinking a thing through, sometimes.”
“I said not to worry about it. Now show me the latest shots of your gorgeous kids. How old are they now?”
“Abigail is seventeen and just finishing up her junior year. This time next year we’ll be gearing up to send her off to college. Jacob is fifteen and he’ll be a sophomore next year.”
Melinda followed Cyn to the latest school shots of both teenagers and gasped. “Oh, my gosh. They’re both so grown up. How did that happen so quickly? It seems like a couple of years ago they were still toddlers.”
Cyn pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler and set two glasses beside it. “I know, right? They were babies when those two you were taking care of both in college.” She put a finger to her temple. “Tiffany and …”
“Drake,” Melinda finished for her. “Doctor Tiffany LeBlanc is also a surgeon at a hospital in Lake Coburn, Louisiana. And Mr. Drake LeBlanc, Attorney at Law, is practicing law in his father’s firm right there in Houston.” She smiled at the thought of the two children she’d raised and loved since they were both infants. “I probably should have moved out of that big old house the day Drake left for college, but Daniel begged me to stay on to tend to things when he’s gone. And he’s gone … a lot.”
“And Daniel is…”
Melinda sipped at her wine. “Daniel LeBlanc, my employer, Tiffany and Drake’s father. He’s a fine man, even though he’s got his priorities a little screwed up when it comes to his kids. But he’s a lot better than their mother, the Wicked Witch of West Houston.”
Cynthia, who’d uncorked the wine, poured them each a portion and carried the glasses to one overstuffed couch as Melinda followed. “Now, you’d been a live-in nanny to those kids since their birth, is that right?”
Melinda made herself comfortable, then grabbed the glass and nodded as Cyn sat beside her. “Tiffany was under two months old when Daniel’s mother hired me. Now she was a nice lady. She taught me everything she knew about children, and believe me, she knew a lot.”
“So, you and this Daniel…you two…never…you know.” Cynthia wiggled her eye brows suggestively.
“Of course not! That was the best job in the world. No way was I going to ruin it by doing something that stupid. Besides, those two are still married even if they can’t stand the sight of each other. They’re both members of the ultra-rich and snooty Houston society crowd. He’s ultra-rich and she’s ultra-snooty. Neither one of them had time to pay any attention to those poor kids.” She shook her head. “Trust me, Cyn. Living with those people taught me how not to treat children.”
“You really were like their mother, weren’t you?”
Melinda placed a hand over her heart. “I love those kids like they’re my own. I’m so proud of the adults they’ve become, and I know I’ve helped them get there. There isn’t a mean bone in either of my two babies.” She wiped a tear from the corner of one eye and took a deep breath.
“Do you still see them?”
“I did, and often, up until two weeks ago. Drake made it a point to come by a few times a week if I cooked his favorite meals for him. Tiffany, not so often, but at least one weekend a month.” She ached for them, as much as any mother separated from her children by several states.
“Things have been moving so quickly lately, I haven’t had a chance to let you know what’s been going on.” She took a deep breath to speak the words it had been so difficult to follow through on. “I’m home, Cyn. Or at least until dad …” She paused, despite the lack of closeness between she and her dad, not wanting to utter those awful words. “Until I’m not needed anymore. After—after that happens—well, I’ll have to figure that out when the time comes, I suppose.” She met Cyn’s sympathetic gaze. “Dad’s not well.”
Her friend’s face fell. “It’s his heart, right?”
Melinda nodded. “There’s not much they can do at this point. And truth be told, I don’t think he wants to do anything to prolong his life since mom’s gone.”
Cyn’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What about for his daughter—for you?” It seems like he’d at least want to stick around for you. To strengthen that father-daughter bond while he still has the time, at least a little.”
Melinda’s laughter erupted in a sarcastic snort. “As a last ploy to get to heaven?” She lifted one shoulder, then let it fall. “We’re not close. Haven’t been for thirty years.”
“But, you two should be working on making those ties stronger now, before it’s too late.”
Melinda stared at the friend who’d had the constant love and affection from both her parents. Parents who hadn’t robbed her of her of the only chance she’d ever had to have a child of her own. “Trust me, Cyn, there’s too much water under that particular bridge.”
Cynthia reached over, placed a hand on Melinda’s, forcing her into some serious eye contact. “I’m right here. Talk to me.”
Melinda’s eyes clouded immediately. “It hurts too much to talk about it.”
Cyn gave Melinda’s wrist a light shake. “Maybe it hurts so much because you’ve kept it pent up inside all these years. Maybe if you do, you’ll feel better.”
Melinda shook her head slowly, staring into her friend’s blue eyes. “No. It won’t do anybody any good by talking about it. Not right now, anyway.”
Her friend released an exasperated sigh but sat back against the arm of the couch, letting it go for now. “Well, I still say there’s hope. And I don’t care what brought it about, but I’m thrilled to have you back in this corner of the country.”
“Oh, I’m back, all right. Dad needs me here, so…” she put her hands out. “Here I am; forty-seven years old and living back at home with my father.”
“Are you looking for a job? Because City Hall is looking for a clerk and I could talk to the mayor for you,” Cynthia gushed. “You know who the mayor is, don’t you?”
Melinda stiffened at the mention of the town’s political leader. “Um …yes, as a matter of fact. I ran across him at the electronic shop yesterday afternoon.” She ducked her head and fiddled with the ring Tiffany and Drake had given her before she moved away for good. It bore three different colored diamonds—a different stone for each of them and one for her.
“Greg owns the shop, and he’s mayor of McCray too. Isn’t that something? Who’d have thought when you left here your senior year he’d join the Marines then come back later to become mayor?”
“Who’d have thought?” Melin repeated quietly, still fiddling with the ring.
Cyn sat up suddenly. “Wait! Weren’t you and Greg … that’s right, I’d forgotten that you and Greg dated for a whole year. I’m sure he’d approve it if you applied, as close as you two were …”
Melinda watched her friend falter as the puzzle pieces came together slowly. She took a deep breath before giving Cyn a reluctant smile. “That was a long, long time ago. And besides, I’m not looking for a job. I’m here to take care of Dad, and that’s a full time position.”
Cynthia chewed at her bottom lip. “I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth. Talking about things that make you uncomfortable.”
Melinda waved off her apology. “Ancient history, girlfriend, so don’t let it bother you.” She tried to carry off a nonchalance that became increasingly difficult under Cyn’s scrutinizing gaze.
“You know he didn’t join the military until you’d been gone for six whole months.”
Melin kept quiet, hoping Cyn would keep talking. As much as she hated to admit it, she was curious about the good looking boy who’d grown into such a drool-worthy man. Had two decades in the Marines changed him for the better or made him even worse of a person than he was before? No way could she admit, even to her old friend, how attracted she still was to him.
“He came back here twenty-five years later, all buff, bronzed, and brawny
when every other guy his age was going bald and sporting a gut. Put these men to shame, I tell you,” Cyn admitted, with a chuckle and a shake of her head. “My brother in law owned the local gym then, and he said his memberships quadrupled after Greg came back and signed up. The men wanting to compete against him, and women wanting to compete for him. He married K’Lynn Roberts a year later. You remember K’Lynn, don’t you? She graduated two years after us, a truly sweet girl.”
“I’m glad for him. Sounds like he’s happily married.” Speaking the words didn’t stop her from feeling just a little sick to her stomach.
“Oh, but, she died a year ago. As a matter of fact it was a year yesterday because her sister placed a memorial in the weekly newspaper.”
Melinda whipped her head up to stare at her friend. “I had no idea. What happened?”
“Ovarian cancer. They’d been trying to get pregnant and by the time they went in to see what the problem was, it was already at stage four. They’d only been married two years when they discovered it. One year later she was gone.”
“Oh, how horrible, Cyn. He didn’t mention it yesterday. But then, he wouldn’t, would he?”
“I guess not. It’s more the kind of thing he’d want to forget, rather than remember, isn’t it?”
“So, he doesn’t have kids from any previous relationships?”
“Not as far as I know. After being married to the Corps for twenty-five years the guy comes back, finally finds somebody and WHAM! Lousy luck, huh?”
Melin couldn’t keep the bitterness from her thoughts. Was it luck? Or was it karma, stepping in to kick his ass after a twenty-five year free ride? She’d place her bet on Karma. Too bad his wife had to pay for his mistakes.
Mom’s Fruit Tarts
Dough Recipe (Can be used with any fruit filling and easiest to work with if made a day ahead and chilled):
2 cups sugar
4 cups flour
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. baking powder
2 sticks butter, softened (not melted)