Abrupt Changes: A Second Chance Romance (O-Town Book 3)

by Karen Renee

  “She knows your birthday?”

  “Most people celebrate New Year’s Eve, Paul. She always felt bad about my birthday being so close to Christmas and she didn’t like my day being overshadowed by ringing in a new year. Anyway, we kept in touch through the cards.”

  His brows arched. “You sent her cards back?”

  I shot a closed-lip smile at him. “Yeah. Don’t take away my man-card, all right?”

  He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just surprised.”

  “Anyway, six months before Penny had her first stroke, she mentioned wanting me to have a spare key to her house. She claimed it was so someone else could help her in an emergency, but I suspect she didn’t want to bother the girls with telling them her health was declining.”

  “Stubborn.”

  I hesitated. “Yeah, but those Connelly women are masters at it. Like they could give clinics and shit.”

  He laughed. “No wonder you were attracted to the daughter.”

  Still am.

  I closed my eyes to shut down that line of thought.

  I leveled my eyes on Otero. “Don’t worry though, sir. I won’t drop by the Connelly house while the investigation is on-going. And investigator Dylan and I will close this case.”

  He gave me a sidelong look, and I thought he might comment on that, but the look stretched for some time. After a while, he nodded.

  “Is there anything else, sir?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “As long as you close this case this week, no.”

  Chapter 3

  Perverse Sixth Sense

  Raegan

  MY HEAD FELL FORWARD, my forehead landing in my upturned hand. The funeral home director had just explained the cost of cremation, interment, and flower plans for Wynnie’s space. The worst wasn’t the expense, though it was expensive. The worst was that I’d be doing this all over again when Mom passed. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the thought.

  My sister’s voice hit me like a sucker punch. “Don’t borrow trouble, Rae-Rae.”

  I nearly doubled over with the pain, but my cell rang, and I forced myself to sit up straight.

  “Fuck. Me.” I said when I caught sight of the display.

  Trey Garrity, my ex-husband, was calling. He seemed to have a perverse sixth sense. He knew I was at my lowest, so why not give me a call? More likely, this being a Friday the thirteenth, he couldn’t resist darkening my day.

  I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes before I answered.

  “Trey. This isn’t a good time. Please keep it short.”

  I heard the ambient sounds of New York and my heart squeezed.

  “I wanted to find out how you’re doing, Raegan. Losing a sister at such a young age can’t be easy.”

  “It isn’t,” I said.

  “I want to send flowers, but my secretary says a funeral service still hasn’t been announced.”

  I pressed my lips together for a moment. “That’s right. I just got off the phone with the funeral home director and will be discussing things with Mom soon.”

  “Is the delay because of the cost? I would think your settlement from me would more than take care of it.”

  He was right. Compliments of the prolific number of affairs he had, and his arrogant assumption he wouldn’t get caught violating a pre-nup agreement he insisted on, I wound up with close to four million dollars after our divorce. That amount would easily cover the final expenses for my sister.

  The problem was, living in New York wasn’t cheap, and I didn’t intend to rent any more.

  Another problem was, if I was going to live in New York, what about Mom? Putting her in a facility cost a pretty penny in the city. Clint was right; Mom was getting better, so maybe she wouldn’t have to go to assisted living.

  Either way, I had big decisions on my plate, sorting out Mom’s living arrangements and then sorting out my own. Thinking about the money reminded me that Trey brought it up, and I knew that wasn’t his actual agenda.

  I tilted my neck back and forth to relieve some tension. “What do you really want, Trey?”

  “I’m just offering my condolences. The hold-up doesn’t make sense.”

  His only-child syndrome was showing, and it always pissed me off.

  “Things get held up when foul play is suspected, Trey. Now, if you don’t mind. I have other things to do.”

  He was saying something, but I hung up.

  An hour later, I called my close friend and former co-worker, Angela. She was great at her job and even better at getting gossip. Not just any gossip either, the good stuff, seeing as she could sense the difference between rumors and truth better than a priest.

  “Raegan Connelly! I was about to assemble a search party. How are you?”

  “Hanging in there. Sorry I’ve been out of touch.”

  Her tone became sympathetic. “Don’t be. Cannot imagine what you’re going through.”

  “Yes, well, neither can my ex-husband apparently.”

  “He called you?”

  “Yes. Claimed he was trying to send flowers but since there’s been no services yet, his secretary is unable to do her job. I don’t buy it.”

  “Neither would I. He’s fishing.”

  “But for what?”

  “Where you’re going to land, of course.”

  I scoffed. “That shouldn’t matter.”

  “If it means I follow you, it will.”

  I laughed. “No shame in your game.”

  “Shame is for nuns and little kids. Besides, he’s a certified weasel.”

  My eyes widened. “Then why’d you let me marry him?”

  “We’re women, Rae. Nobody lets us do anything. Besides, he didn’t show his weasel ways until after you married him.”

  “You got that right,” I muttered.

  “Anyway. Call me after-hours. We need to talk, but I can’t do it now.”

  “Gotcha. You working late? No, it’s Friday, you can’t, right?”

  “That is correct. Nine works.”

  The change in her voice and her clipped cadence told me someone was within earshot. “I’ll let you get back to it. Later, Angela.”

  TALKING TO ANGELA WAS often a double-edged sword. She boosted my ego and brightened my day, but she reminded me of work. Or my lack thereof, which brought on serious guilt.

  I felt guilty because I should have been here the day Bronwyn died. A last-minute interview with the largest advertising agency in New York meant I’d delayed my travel by two days. So, rather than be here, I’d spent Tuesday interviewing, and it wasn’t until the end of the day that I heard Mom’s message and broke down in the middle of the Eastern, Sharpe, and Prescott lobby.

  Yeah.

  That wasn’t likely to get me the job, though they were quite kind about it, offering to have me driven home and telling me to call them when I was ready to discuss things further.

  I supposed I would always blame myself for Bronwyn’s death. Had I been here there’s no way she’d have ‘fallen asleep’ in the bathtub. Not that I believed that, but still. She and I would’ve been up until the wee hours gabbing and carrying on, such that she would’ve showered and had no time for a stinking bath!

  Blowing out a sigh, I moved to the wine rack, and remembered something the police said. My sister had been found with a glass of wine next to her, but she hardly ever drank wine. She was a beer girl, and while any beer would do, if she had her druthers it was IPAs, the more bitter the better. I’d mentioned as much last week to the officers. They’d made notes, but I didn’t think they took me seriously since they said, “People change.”

  I stared at the bottles in the rack. All of them were whites, and all of them should have been in the fridge, but Mom and I were cool with a glass on ice. It pained me to do it, but I had to ask Mom about it.

  I walked into the living room to find her soaps had just ended.

  “Can I talk to you about something, Mom? About Wynnie’s death?”

  Her face fell. “I suppose, sw
eetheart. It’s not like there’s anything new I can tell you.”

  I gave a slight nod. “Maybe not, but they said a glass of wine was found next to the tub. She never cared for wine.”

  Mom’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Most of the time, that was true. But she had come around to having a glass of white wine with me once in a while. And more often if she didn’t have her beer on hand, which she didn’t last week.”

  I sighed. “All right, well. Another thing, will next Friday work for a celebration of her life? If so, I’ll let the funeral director know that’s what we want to do. And I’ll contact everyone who needs know the date and time.”

  Mom closed her eyes and two tears traveled down her face. Seeing her cry made tears well in my eyes, but I fought them off.

  After moment and a deep breath, Mom opened her eyes. “Yes, Raegan. Next Friday will work fine.”

  Chapter 4

  You Didn’t Have To

  Raegan

  ASIDE FROM A GLIMPSE of him at the cemetery yesterday, it had been over two weeks since I’d seen Clint and that was just as well.

  I was determined to wean Mom from the boiled peanuts, come hell or high water. If my mom had anything to say about it, there would certainly be hell along the way. This morning though, I was willing to go through that hell because her blood pressure had finally lowered. Whether that was compliments of her medication or the smaller serving of peanuts from me was an argument Mom pursued tenaciously.

  The investigation into my sister’s death was closed and ruled an accident. I sensed the detective on our case was eager to move on, and I didn’t blame him, but I still knew my sister’s death wasn’t accidental. And nobody was going to stand up for her but me.

  My emotions see-sawed between anger and sadness all day. How could my sister be dead? Mom didn’t need to outlive one of her daughters, on top of surviving a stroke! Then for the police to dismiss her death, and even hint it might have been suicide added insult to injury. At least we had celebrated Wynnie’s life yesterday. It was good to know she could be at peace.

  Now, I had to decide if I was going back to New York.

  Clint had been right about Madison Avenue. Working there had been my dream, but sometimes even the best dreams devolved into nightmares. My dream had done that in spectacular fashion.

  Thankfully, the divorce was settled before Wynnie’s murder, so my bank account was much fatter. With the insistence that Wynnie’s death was an accident, I was going to hire...

  I sighed.

  Clint was a private investigator. Would I hire him? It didn’t make sense to hire him. He was too close to all of us to be objective.

  A hasty knock at the door pulled me from my internal debate. I knew that knock because Mom’s next-door neighbor, Tanya, had two children under three, which meant her hands were always full.

  “You better let that girl in here, Rae. I need time with little Jared before I start a Blue Bloods marathon.”

  I shook my head as I scurried to the front door. Through the glass I saw Tanya had a baby carseat carrier perched on one arm, the other barely hanging on to Jared, who was struggling to break free of her hold.

  I opened the door, but blocked Jared from charging ahead. “You need to behave for your mommy, Mr. Jared.”

  He wrapped his chubby arms around my leg. “Me a good boy.”

  His big brown eyes stared up at me with such sincerity. I crouched down and picked him up. “Yes, you are. Let’s go see Miss Penny.”

  Tanya came inside and closed the door behind herself. As she followed me, she said, “You ever gonna wear that dress I gave you again?”

  I handed Jared off to Mom, and she smiled almost as brightly as she did at Brock.

  When I looked at Tanya, the look in her eyes demanded an answer. “Tanya, you’re lucky I wore it the first time.”

  Her chin dipped in acknowledgment. “True, but I saw you go out with Clint wearing it. Why aren’t you going back for round two of that?”

  I had moved into the kitchen to grab a cold LaCroix for her, and I wondered how little I could tell her.

  When I came back in the room, I gave her the drink. “It’s a long story.”

  “The best kind of story for nap time,” she muttered.

  I looked down at little Marcus, realizing he was the perfect distraction. “Can I hold him?”

  “Sure, let me get him out for you.” She fiddled with the straps and such, but then scrunched her face. “Seriously, little dude? You should not be messy again.”

  Her exasperation drummed up my sympathy. “I can change him for you. One less diaper for you today.”

  She gave me her big eyes. “If you’re willing, I will not pass that up. Let me set up the changing pad for you.”

  It wasn’t the first diaper I had ever changed, but it had been quite a while. Still, Marcus stared up at me with a light in his eyes that I couldn’t tell if he was grateful or if I just fascinated him.

  I decided I fascinated him, so I made an exaggerated funny face. “You are the poopiest pooper who ever pooped! Yes, you are!”

  Someone sighed and I glanced up to see Clint standing in the room. I was so wrapped up in diaper-duty, I hadn’t even heard the door. The look on his face said it all: he didn’t like seeing me with someone else’s baby, but at the same time he loved watching me with a baby.

  A flood of memories hit me at seeing him like that.

  Before I had graduated college, Clint and I were serious, and had discussions about the future. He wanted kids, the more the better, as far as he was concerned. Being twenty-one, I was scared to death at the idea of a gaggle of kiddos.

  When he encouraged me to move to New York City and go after my dreams, it surprised the hell out of me. And if I’d been honest with myself at the time, another reason I’d jumped at the chance was so I wouldn’t have to have a bunch of kids well before I was ready.

  It was a wimp move, and it was sheer stupidity on my part, but nobody said book-smarts equaled life-smarts.

  And at the end of the day it wasn’t quite that simple.

  He had come to visit me after I settled into life in the city that never sleeps. I loved it there, and the more I met the people, the more I knew Clint would fit right in. He’d always had a no-nonsense attitude I found incredibly refreshing, so when I realized many New Yorkers had similar mindsets, I had tried convincing him to move up, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  He wouldn’t leave his mother and sisters. He had roots he couldn’t sever, where I was excited to get away from Mom and Wynnie and not having them in my business every day. He also had a protective streak more than a mile wide. From age twelve he’d been the man of the house, and arguably before that, seeing as his father beat his mother.

  “Raegan, can I talk to you on the porch?”

  Jared squealed and I turned to look at Mom. It appeared she was tickling him, but her eyes were on Clint. “Why would you drag her out into the heat?”

  That was a fine question, and when I turned to Clint a muscle was ticking in his cheek. “Won’t be that long, Penny. She’ll survive.”

  Tanya saw my divided focus between Clint and the half-finished job with Marcus’s diaper. “I’ll take care of the rest, Raegan. Don’t worry about it.”

  I pushed up from the floor and followed Clint outside.

  As soon as the door latched, he asked, “What are you still doin’ here?”

  My head reared back a touch and I folded my arms over my chest. “Excuse me? It’s my mother’s house.”

  “Yeah, but you should’ve gone back to New York by now.”

  My expression turned wry. “Really? There a timeline for when a grieving sister has to go back home? There a timeline for when I have to pick up my life again?”

  His facial expression shifted to remorse, but I was on a roll.

  I threw an arm out. “Hell, Clint, we just celebrated her yesterday! I’m not just gonna leave Mom high and dry after that horrendous day.”

  He
tore a hand through his hair while his eyes closed tight. After he blew out a sigh, he looked at me. “I’m sorry, Rae. I didn’t... Fuck. I thought you’d be gone by now is all.”

  I stared at him for a while before the full meaning of his words hit me and I scoffed. “So, translated, you were avoiding me until you thought I’d be gone.”

  He inhaled loudly and looked anywhere but at me until after he exhaled. “It’s... It’s not like that.”

  My eyes widened. “Isn’t it though?” I shook my head. “Whatever. I’ll be sure to shoot you a text or something when I’ve left town. Then you can visit Mom to your heart’s content.”

  “Raegan, do not put words in my mouth.”

  I shook my head. “Not putting words in your mouth, Clint. You’re absent for two weeks, and now you’re surprised to see me. Further, you opened this shitshow telling me where I should’ve been. I get it. You don’t want to see me; I’ll do my level best to accommodate you that way. Don’t let this go to your head, Clint Ramsey, but seeing you isn’t the least bit easy for me either.”

  He grabbed my bicep. “Dammit, Raegan! I didn’t say any of that.”

  I wrenched my arm free. “You didn’t have to.”

  Clint

  I POURED THREE FINGERS of Bushmills into a glass and went out to the front porch. A deluge of rain blanketed the neighborhood and I was grateful for it. I only sat out here when it rained because otherwise my nosy neighbors would try to chat with me.

  I damn sure wasn’t in the mood for chatting today. The rhythm of the rain lacked the power to drive out the thoughts in my head tonight.

  You didn’t have to.

  Raegan’s voice played in a perpetual loop in my head. Her pain-laced tone cut deep. I never wanted to hurt her. Never.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that she might have pain at seeing me too. Then again, she married someone up there. I hadn’t found someone I would marry in the time since I left Raegan in New York.

  I didn’t blame her of course. A beautiful woman like her would attract attention, but I always thought she’d know a slimeball when one came around. No two ways about it, her ex-husband was total slime.