“I’m not.”
“Not what?” Samantha pressed. “Staying with anyone? Did you move here? Tully knows everyone in this town, but I can tell he doesn’t know you.” He wished Samantha would seal her lips for a moment, as her comment made the woman blink awake, alert. She frowned.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” the woman said, backing away. “I thought you were... I don’t know what I thought. You obviously weren’t...”
“We’ve all been there, honey,” Samantha shouted after her, causing the woman to offer a friendly wave as if an afterthought. She sped off, fired up her Sportster and zipped out of the parking lot, heading toward town. “She can certainly handle herself on that motorcycle.”
“She didn’t get more than a couple bucks into her gas tank.”
“Then she won’t be able to get too far.” Samantha smirked. “Go on. I know you want to.”
“What?”
“Give chase.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t you want to see where she’s going and where she’s staying? I saw how you looked at her.” When Tully shot his sister a look, she giggled. “And how she looked at you.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“It was pretty difficult to miss, Tully, and it’s okay to notice, you know.”
“I might say the same thing to you.” Now it was his turn to chuckle as Samantha shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “You’re as averse to relationships as I am.”
“If I ever find a man who can keep up with me, I’ll pick out china place settings with him.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, finally pulling out of the parking lot. Samantha laughed hard.
“Nope! I probably won’t, but that’ll never stop me from trying to get you settled down. It’s bad enough I have to worry about Dad when I’m traveling. One of these days you’ll turn into an old man too, and I’ll have to check in on you both.”
“Sis, I’m not the—”
“—marrying kind. How many times have I heard that?”
“Yet you’re still ready to fix me up with a random woman on the street.”
“All I’m saying is I can tell you’re interested in her or else we would have left the parking lot ages ago.”
“I was hoping for an apology.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“My day goes better when people acknowledge when they’ve done something wrong.”
“I didn’t realize she’d done anything wrong.”
“Never mind. She’s not my type.”
“What, intriguing? She looked like a lot of fun to me.”
“You think everyone outside of Roseley looks like a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, and I’m usually right.”
Tully turned on the radio. “Let’s drop it, or I’ll blindside you with a fix-up as payback.”
Samantha smacked him on the arm but turned her attention to the view outside her window. Tully was grateful for the silence. And, he thought to himself, it didn’t matter if the motorcyclist had managed to get under his skin. By the sound of it, she didn’t think too highly of the folks in town and was probably passing through. He figured it was unlikely he’d ever see her again.
CHAPTER TWO
FAITH FITZPATRICK HAD spent her first few days back in Roseley getting the lay of the land and cleaning out her newly leased shop. The rental unit had been empty for nearly a year, so cleaning and moving in hadn’t been as difficult as she’d expected. She’d also enlisted the help of her cousins, Caroline and Trig, although Trig had taken off to check his work email as soon as the heavy lifting was done.
“Don’t you want me to open up the front door and let some fresh air in here?” Caroline asked, dragging a wet mop along the linoleum floor toward the entrance. The front window and door had been covered with butcher paper and Faith was happy to leave it in place for as long as possible, even if the space stayed dark.
“Absolutely not.” Faith hustled to block her cousin from the entrance. “Not yet.”
She and her cousins had grown up together until just after high school, when Faith had escaped town and all the drama that had come with it. Being back with her cousins had given her the confidence boost she needed to tackle the obstacles over the next few days.
“Faith, you’re going to have to announce your presence eventually. That is, if you have any intention of earning a living.”
Faith had daydreamed of more than earning a living in Roseley. She hoped to make a life here. She had never wanted to leave in the first place, not really. But after what had happened with her father, leaving had quickly turned into her only reasonable option if she didn’t want to continue hanging her head in shame every day. Ducking around corners to avoid her meanest critics had been awful.
“I’m not worried about that, Caroline. I don’t care what people in this town think of me.” Caroline’s face smoothed in skepticism.
“It’s okay to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” She fiddled with a tub of plaster. “I don’t want to open the shop until it’s ready. A grand opening is supposed to be grand, right? It’s a big reveal.”
Caroline wrapped an arm around Faith’s shoulders. “We’ll have this place looking fabulous for its big reveal in no time.”
“Are you sure you can stick around to help me?”
“Sure. You really need to open before Fourth of July to build some buzz.”
“I should have opened months ago to better establish myself before riding season.” She’d always wanted to open her own motorcycle repair and detailing shop, but her husband, Kyle, had squashed her dream every chance he got. She’d stayed in their marriage hoping for the best but tolerating the worst. The day she had finally packed her bags and walked out of their house for good had been anticlimactic compared with the rest of their relationship. She now wished she’d left much sooner.
“Don’t look back,” Caroline told her. “Just think of this opening as a head start to next summer’s riding season.”
Faith nodded at her cousin’s encouragement. She hoped the summer was a head start to the rest of her life’s happiness, finally. “Do you think I should paint?”
They looked around at the red brick walls. It wasn’t a place that needed much decor, at least not for what she needed it for. The space was tidier than any repair shop she’d ever worked in.
“I doubt anyone cares what the aesthetics are. They’ll only want to know you do good work. You might need to reconsider if you start selling motorcycles too.”
“True. I’m a long way off from being a distributor and opening a showroom. Repairs and detailing will have to be my bread and butter for now. Once I know I can make the rent, I can think about expanding. For now, I have to keep my overhead low. I also need to see how many guys are comfortable with me working on their motorcycles. If their egos don’t get in the way...”
Caroline smiled. “Egos always get in the way. Look at Trig.”
Faith’s cousin Trig had come home to Roseley for a long holiday to support her return. But she knew he was itching to get back to Detroit and to his fast-paced sports journalism career. He was one of the most driven, competitive people she knew.
“The one thing I do need to do, perhaps tomorrow, is paint this front window. I love how everyone decorates theirs, and I want to hold up my place on the street.”
“Ah, the pride of being your own boss,” Caroline said. “You also used to be a good artist when we were kids. Any chance you kept up with that too?”
Faith tipped her head thoughtfully, considering the size of her front window. “I’m sure I could do it justice. Heart Motorcycles needs a beautiful new logo right about here.” She peeled away a tiny piece of the brown butcher paper covering. When she found an eye peeking back at her from the other side of the window, she yelped.
&nbs
p; “Who’s in there?” a voice from outside called. “This place is closed, you know!”
Faith backed away, motioning to Caroline to stay hushed. She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, face anyone, explain to anyone why she should be here. She’d been sneaking in through the back door for a week, grateful to stay undetected, but now...
“Hello!” the voice squawked. “Show yourself or I’m calling the police. If you’re in there doing that graffiti or stealing copper pipes—”
“Hang on,” Caroline called, throwing up her hands in an apology to Faith. “It’s like ripping off a bandage,” she whispered. “Just get this first encounter over with, and then we’ll get back to work.”
“This wasn’t the plan,” Faith said, her voice cutting. She was ready to order the woman to get lost, but her sweet cousin had already moved to unlock the door. Faith crossed, then uncrossed her arms, finally whipping on a pair of lightly tinted sunglasses and widening her gate to exude as much confidence as she could.
The adage Don’t give the devil a foothold crossed her mind as Caroline opened the door only a few inches before a short woman with bright peach lipstick pushed the rest of the way in. The woman’s determination to know what was going on had certainly overshadowed any concern she might have had for her safety. She stopped short once she got a good look at them both.
“Caroline,” the woman gasped, noticeably taken aback at not finding hooligans running amuck. “What are you doing in here? Are you renting this place? Mark didn’t mention he’d leased the unit yet.”
“Why, no,” Caroline said, a polite smile spreading. “It belongs to—”
“Ms. Fitzpatrick will do just fine,” Faith said.
Caroline nodded in understanding as their guest stepped closer for a better view. Faith yearned for a few more days before she announced that she, formerly known as Faith Talbert, was back. She could only imagine how that news would spark a wildfire of gossip. She wanted only a little peace and quiet.
As the electricity had not been turned on and the windows were still covered, the woman had to strain to make out Faith in the dim light. Faith, however, recognized the woman immediately as CeCe Takes, one of her family’s loudest critics. When her father had been arrested for orchestrating an investment scam, CeCe had been at the forefront of reporting it to the town. She was sure CeCe had not thought of her once over the years, but Faith had, unfortunately, thought of her neighbor many times. On her way out of town as a frustrated seventeen-year-old kid, Faith had taken satisfaction in smashing CeCe’s storefront mailbox and flowerpots. Her anger had spurred her on, wanting to make CeCe pay for her gossip, which had worsened the Talbert family crisis. It had felt good at the time to hear the crinkle of metal and to imagine the look of horror on CeCe’s face when she found the ruined mailbox and flowers strewn up and down the sidewalk. She’d blazed out of town right after that rather pleased with herself, but during the ten years since then she’d come to regret her actions, felt ashamed any time she thought of what she’d done.
If CeCe recognized Faith, she certainly didn’t let on, curtly making her introduction as she glanced about the place. “CeCe Takes. My husband, Angelo, and I run The Sandwich Board a few stores down.”
“Ms. Fitzpatrick has moved here from out of state,” Caroline said. Faith squared her shoulders. She knew she was noticeably different-looking now. At least, that was what she had hoped during the long drive to Roseley. Over the last decade, Faith had put on the curves of a woman, cut her long, wavy hair to a short crop and darkened the sandy blond shade to the darkest brown. She’d also traded in her preppy, conservative clothes for an edgier style that screamed don’t mess with me. But as much as she knew she’d changed, something about being back reminded her too much of the upset little girl who had skidded out of town as one of Roseley’s disappointments.
Faith dug deep for a pleasant response. “Nice to meet you.”
CeCe’s brow lifted as she made a study of Faith’s appearance. She could tell her low-slung faded Levi’s, tight black tank top and old leather riding boots didn’t impress. “What kind of business are you opening here, Ms. Fitzpatrick?”
Faith glanced at Caroline before answering. “Motorcycle repair and detailing.”
CeCe’s face soured as if she’d deep kissed a lemon. “Motorcycles? Heavens, why?”
“There’s a need for it, Mrs. Takes,” Caroline said.
“Really? Hmph. Well, if you say so.” CeCe wandered around the shop, running her fingers over the various mechanical tools. “Do you have a fella?”
Faith nearly gagged on her reply. “Excuse me?”
“I assume you’re running the business end and your fella is running the repairs.”
“You assume wrong.” Faith settled back on her feet, enjoying the look on CeCe’s face as she worked out whether she had been insulted. Her cousin’s jaw shifted askew, warning. “No,” Faith said. “I don’t have a fella. I don’t need one either.”
“If you say so,” CeCe muttered before wandering to the front door. “What’s the name of your shop?”
“It’s not open yet.”
CeCe spun around. “What am I supposed to tell people?”
Faith swallowed hard. CeCe hadn’t changed a bit. She still thought everything was her business and her news to share.
“You can tell people that I’ll be ready for a grand opening later this week.”
“Hmm.” CeCe frowned in disapproval. “Welcome to the neighborhood...”
“Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“Ms. Fitzpatrick. I suppose your first name isn’t ready yet either?”
Before Faith could piece together a smart reply, Caroline had ushered CeCe out the door. “Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. Takes!” she called and speedily locked the door behind her. She spun and collapsed as Faith wiped the beads of perspiration that had formed on her brow. Starting a new business should be the most nerve-racking thing she would have to do this week, yet talking to CeCe was coming in at a close second. Caroline let out a long sigh that climbed into a laugh. “Hey, not to worry, you know what they say. One down—”
“Two hundred more to go?” Faith removed her sunglasses, now feeling foolish for having hid.
Caroline crossed over to her as if reading her mind and said, “She’s going to figure out who you are eventually, you know. Everyone will.”
“But I want that to happen on my terms.”
“I know, I know, but you can’t control everyone. You certainly can’t control Mrs. Takes.”
It could have been the truest thing she’d ever heard her cousin say.
“Thanks for backing me up.”
Caroline touched her shoulder. “I’ll always back you up, cousin.” There weren’t many people in Faith’s life who would do so, but Caroline was one of the good ones whose words she believed in.
* * *
TULLY HAD JUST claimed his desk chair and tipped his coffee mug to his lips when Charlie, his buddy and fellow police officer, answered the phone at the station house. Dolores Mitchell, a lifelong resident and shop owner, was on the other end of the line. Her normally sweet, low voice had a slight shrill to it this morning, and Tully could hear her end of the conversation from a desk away. The facts were simple. Her storefront window had been vandalized sometime in the middle of the night. She wanted to file a police report, and no, she didn’t know who would do such a thing.
Roseley, despite its friendly charms, was not immune to petty crimes. Occasionally, Tully got reports about smashed mailboxes, busted locks on shed doors or foul-language graffiti on the giant rocks at Roseley State Park’s entrance. Infractions like these tended to be a rare occurrence in recent years, likely the drunken antics of bored folks looking for something to do on a Saturday night.
Occasionally, more serious misdemeanors cropped up. The summer before, teenage boys, looking to go on a joyride, had stolen a
speedboat and careened across the lake endangering others and nearly killing themselves.
The worst scandal in memory, felony on several counts, had involved Ray Talbert, an investment broker who had swindled several people out of their life savings over a period of nearly seventeen years. Talbert had moved to town and married one of the local girls, setting up shop immediately. His good looks and thick charm had made him well-known and had also helped make him a very wealthy man, or so the FBI said. The day they’d arrested Talbert, Tully had been away, completing his second year of college, but his father had kept him updated. His dad had been one of the few not to invest with Talbert, but that made him no less interested in the story. Given the way his father lived, Tully assumed his dad had hefty savings squirreled away in a coffee can buried in the backyard.
News of Talbert’s arrest and the scope of his fraud had shook folks straight out of their front porch rocking chairs. Over the last ten years, his name or the name of one of his victims would crop up in conversation, usually accompanied with a sad shake of the head and a word of warning. Talbert’s case became a cautionary tale to trust a little more slowly than what Roseley residents had preferred.
This sentiment about being careful resonated fine with Tully. He knew who his genuine friends were and didn’t let too many people into his inner circle. Charlie had in fact become the brother Tully had never had but had always wanted. Charlie’s relations also felt like his second family.
“Are you heading over there now?” Tully said, curious to see the damage to Dolores’s storefront. He followed Charlie out of the station.
“I bumped into Emily Peaches yesterday,” Charlie said once they’d climbed into Tully’s truck. “She looks great.”
Tully had gone on a few dates with the dimple-cheeked beauty and had half expected news of their relationship to make the front page of the local newspaper. Now that Charlie was happily married, he was almost as bad as Samantha when it came to meddling in Tully’s love life.
“I’m sure she does.” Emily was a knockout, although Tully knew he’d never had a problem attracting beautiful women. Dating had never been a problem, period. It was when his date brought up the notions of exclusivity, marriage and the future did he kindly, but firmly, wish them well and return them to a cordial “just friends” status.
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