by Davis Bunn
Forty-five minutes before school was to start, he gathered them into his pickup and drove straight to Chloe’s home. She did not protest when Daniel pulled into her drive. Nor did she make a move to leave his ride.
Daniel cut off the engine and said, “Might as well get it over with.”
Chloe did not respond.
“It’s not going to get any easier.”
She asked in a too-small voice, “Do I have to stay here tonight?”
“This is your home. You love them, and they love you.” When she remained stationary, he added, “If you really want to stay at my place, it’s okay.”
Chloe still did not move. “What you said last night, it’s really, really happening?”
“There’s a lot that still needs to be put in place. But the first steps have been taken . . .” Daniel stopped because she opened her door and started down the walk. At that same moment, Ricki opened the front door and came rushing out to meet her.
Daniel watched mother and daughter embrace, then turned to Nicole and said, “I haven’t had a chance to ask how you feel about all this.”
“It’s okay. She doesn’t say hardly anything.” She continued to watch as Ricki released Chloe and led her up the walk and into the house. “It’s kind of like having a beautiful live-in ghost.”
Daniel swiveled back around and faced forward. “Maybe she’ll decide to come home.”
“Doubtful.”
Daniel nodded. He thought so too.
“You really think you can do what you said?”
“All I can do is set things in motion. After that, it’s all up to her.”
Nicole leaned forward so her face was lined up with his. Together they watched the silent house. “Still. That’s a lot.”
“It’s a start.”
“Tell me again what’s happening this weekend.”
Daniel didn’t mind in the least repeating what he had told them the previous night. “Today is Friday. This afternoon she’ll meet the photographer.”
“The wedding lady. From your group.”
“AA. Right. Weddings are how Veronica makes her living now. But she used to be a major player in the LA fashion scene.” Daniel pointed with his chin at the front door. “She’ll have a talk with Chloe. See if there’s a chance the camera will like her.”
“Mom talks about that a lot,” Nicole said. “How the camera decides.”
“It really comes down to that. Whether Chloe’s looks and her charisma translate onto the screen. Or page.” Daniel shook his head. He was taking so many chances. And with such a young life. “If Veronica thinks Chloe has what it takes, she’ll help design both the shoot and the wardrobe. Which will probably require some serious shopping.”
Nicole was close enough for Daniel to smell the floral shampoo she had used that morning. “Did you see Chloe light up at that news flash?”
“Everybody on our street was momentarily blinded.” He leaned toward his door to bring Nicole into his field of vision. “You can go with them, if you want. My treat.”
“Puh-leese. Do I really look like I’m all that interested in clothes and fashion?” She kept her gaze firmly on the front door. “Which was a constant theme in our happy home, by the way. What then?”
“Veronica doesn’t have a booking for this weekend. She’s going to do a two-day shoot.” Daniel turned back to the house. “Then we’ll see.”
CHAPTER 27
Stella entered the town hall half an hour late. Her normally ebullient daughter had spent the entire morning wrapped in sadness and silence. There was no repetition of the previous day’s argument, not even when Stella snapped at her. Amber simply wasn’t there. On the drive to her school, Stella had tried to break through, apologize, remind Amber how much she was loved, how these problems came up in adult relationships . . . As she parked in the employee spaces behind the town hall, Stella could not actually remember what she had said. Not that any of it had actually made a difference.
Miramar’s old town hearkened back to California’s gold-rush era. Back then, hardy Italian immigrants had defied the Pacific currents and hunted the shores off Miramar for abalone. The shells made many families rich. Some of them moved inland and farmed the rich bottomlands of the verdant central coast valleys. They started some of America’s first vineyards, producing a rich red wine that was swept up by locals and rarely made it any farther than San Francisco. Others became caught up in the hunt for underground riches and emigrated a second time, to the Wild West towns around Sacramento. Still others remained there in Miramar, put down roots, and became movers and shakers in the local community.
Miramar’s old town was fashioned from cedar and redwood and cypress, and was set firmly upon foundations of local granite. The city and county offices formed the rear portion of what was formerly a dance hall and gambling saloon. When she’d started working as the town’s bookkeeper, Stella had heard all sorts of wild tales about the place. Jesse James and Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp all supposedly played roles in Miramar’s early days. If even a fraction of the stories were true, her office walls still held bullets from historic duels.
The building was fronted by a wide veranda with a cedar-planked floor and a multitude of rockers. A great deal of the town’s business was still conducted there. As a result, Stella had a nodding acquaintance with most of the people who shaped Miramar’s future.
Stella shared the main office with the county records keeper, the lady responsible for all building permits and her assistant, and the mayor’s secretary. The secretary also served as the office receptionist. Their office was separated from the main foyer by a counter that held two computer terminals and phones, one of which connected directly to the police station around the corner.
Most of the building—formerly the saloon and dance hall—was an open-plan space used for any number of city and county events. Back in the nineties, the city had revamped the entire structure and torn out the upper floor, so the hall now looked straight up thirty feet to polished cedar rafters.
The fear that someone in a position of power had sought to drain off funds from her safe haven was another reason she entered the office that morning feeling bruised.
Adele, the head of building permits, took one look at her and said, “Don’t tell me you’ve got the flu.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look about as fine as sardines on burnt toast.” Adele was a tiny African American with sculpted features. Both her voice and her opinions were far too big for her ballerina build. “Don’t you go giving me some nasty bug. I’ve got too much on my plate to get sick with the never-getovers.”
As soon as Stella saw the mayor step from her office, she knew how she needed to respond. “I had a fight with my boyfriend.”
Adele pushed back from her desk. “You’ve got a man in your life?”
Stella nodded to the mayor and slipped behind her desk. Just another day at the office. “Not anymore.”
Adele looked at the mayor. “Did you know about him?”
“Not until yesterday.”
“Girl, why am I just hearing about this now?”
“I wanted to wait until I was sure.”
Catherine’s smile did not touch her eyes. It seldom did. “He was certainly a looker.”
“I thought so too.”
Adele showed a genuine irritation. “How long has this been going on?”
“A while.” Stella watched herself go through the motions of starting her daily routine. Turning on her computer, bringing up the daily calendar, checking her messages. “Long enough to know it was wrong.”
Catherine said, “Somebody that good-looking and famous and still single, he’s bound to be broken goods.”
Stella found it easy to nod. Like she totally agreed with everything she was hearing. “He told me he’d changed.”
Catherine sniffed. “Well.”
“He’s been sober for four years.”
Adele said, “Will somebody please
tell me what I’m missing?”
“His name is Daniel Riffkin,” Catherine replied. “Formerly a big TV star. What was his show called?”
“Market Roundup. On NBC.” Stella felt as though she was observing someone else play at whatever this game was. “That was years ago.”
Catherine surprised her then. “What did he think of your little girl?”
Stella pretended to give it serious thought. “I honestly don’t know. Amber adored him.”
Catherine pondered that for a moment, then asked, “Is she part of why he was interested in you?”
“To tell the truth, I have no idea what that man is after.”
Adele huffed. “I believe I’ve sung that particular song myself.”
Catherine nodded slowly. “Do you need to take some time off?”
“Thanks. But I’m probably better off here.” Stella waited until the mayor returned to her office, then pretended to get to work. But staring out of her computer screen was the face of her broken-hearted daughter.
* * *
Daniel dropped the two girls at their school. He waited until Nicole and Chloe entered the building, like any other hovering parent, wanting to make sure they actually got to where they were supposed to be going. He then drove around the block and parked his truck. He entered the main office and asked to see the principal.
Karen Darby was physically a small, delicate woman, but she carried herself with an iron-hard attitude. She rose long enough to shake his hand, pointed him into the chair opposite her desk, and said, “You were standing outside my school yesterday.”
“I was, yes.”
“You picked up a young lady who had played truant.”
Daniel knew nothing less than the full truth would work with this lady. “And dropped her off this morning.”
“Her mother and I are friends. Ricki explained the situation. How are you involved?”
“Chloe stayed at my house last night.”
“Was that wise?”
Daniel found himself liking her very much. “I may be able to help resolve the situation.”
“Unwrap that a little further.” She listened intently as Daniel explained what he had in mind. When he was done, she rose and crossed over to the side windows. Karen Darby was scarcely as tall standing as Daniel was seated. Even so, she carried a giant’s intensity. She examined the empty street in front of her school. Thinking.
Finally, she said, “Of course I’ve known of Chloe’s desires. Perhaps a big-city school might have assisted her more than we could here in Miramar.”
“What she needs can’t be found in any standard curriculum.”
“How can you be so certain of that?”
“My sister is an Anne Ford model.”
“Interesting.” Darby continued to examine the empty vista beyond her window. “Will your sister play a role in this?”
“She might. But we won’t know enough to ask her until Chloe jumps through the hoops this weekend.”
“And if she doesn’t? What then?” Darby turned around and nailed him with her gaze. “Will you extinguish this young woman’s lifelong hopes? Is that part of your game plan?”
“Right now, I can’t see much further than the next two days. What I most want her to see is that there is an adult who cares enough to try and help her.” When she responded with a narrowed squint, Daniel pressed, “There are no guarantees in this game. A thousand fail for every one who succeeds. Ten thousand. But I think Chloe has a shot.”
“How good a chance?”
“We’ll know more on Sunday.”
“And if your photographer friend gives her approval, what then?”
Daniel took a huge breath. Tried to force out the words. That he would take Chloe to LA and introduce her around. But the next step was too big, the ledge too high, the drop too dark. All he said was, “One step at a time.”
Darby walked back behind her desk and seated herself. “Keep me posted.”
Daniel took that as his dismissal. As he rose to his feet, he said, “If things do move forward next week, I’d like to take Nicole with me. She needs—”
“You may call me Sunday evening. We’ll discuss the coming week at that time.” Darby slid a card across the table. “My cell phone number is at the bottom. Good day, Mr. Riffkin.”
* * *
Daniel returned home and took Goldie for a long walk. The dog kept glancing back, searching every passing car, clearly wondering where her two new housemates might be hiding.
He spent an hour and a half surveying the markets and preparing his next client report. Try as he might, though, he could not bring his full attention to the work at hand. Every time he looked up from the screens, thoughts of Stella were there to confront him. Telling himself he could not have done anything to change the situation did not help.
Just after eleven, the photographer called to say her afternoon appointment had canceled and they could start a day earlier. Normally Daniel didn’t even hear the phone when he was deep in market data. But today it was a welcome break. As the noon hour passed, Goldie came over and settled her head upon his thigh. She had not done this since forever. She gave him the sad look only a dog could.
Goldie followed him into the kitchen, where Daniel warmed up leftovers he wasn’t sure he actually wanted. As he ate, Goldie remained poised by his side, which was what she usually did, but she kept casting glances at the front door, which was definitely new. Daniel stroked the soft golden pelt and said, “I know, girl. I miss her too.”
They probably weren’t talking about the same woman. But still.
After lunch, Daniel returned to his glass-fronted office, only this time he refocused on the data supplied by Stella. He could do nothing about the empty space where a new feminine presence should have been inserting itself. But Stella’s problem was real. The longer he pushed, the deeper he went, the more certain he became.
Goldie’s whoof alerted him to a change in the air.
The doorbell rang, then the front door unlocked and Ricki called, “You decent?”
“Not only that, I’m glad you’re here. I could use a break.” He entered the kitchen to find her unloading two sacks of sealed plastic containers. “What on earth?”
“It’s amazing how much I can get done when I’m not stressed out over another argument with my daughter.” She pointed to each carton in turn. “Chloe’s favorite foods. Tabouleh, falafel, lamb kebabs in this one, beef in the other. Fresh chopped salad with mint and coriander, hummus . . . I’m forgetting something.”
“Ricki, this is a feast.”
“And yogurt with chopped cucumber and spinach.” She continued to tap the last container. “How is she?”
“Coping. How are you?”
“About the same. Travis will probably want to thank you some time further down the road. Right now . . . You understand?”
“Of course.”
She showed him overbright eyes. “Just so you know, you’ve just become my personal favorite hero. I can’t begin to thank you for helping us deal with Chloe and helping Chloe deal with her dreams.”
“Ricki . . . we’re a long way from knowing anything for certain.”
“But still. You’re doing what we should have put in motion a good while back. Only we were too frightened by all the things that don’t matter at all to that child.”
“They don’t yet, but they will.”
“Still, she needs to make her own choices.”
Daniel nodded. “I think so.”
“And you’ll be there to help her.”
The prospect of returning to LA loomed as dark as a cave. “If she’ll let me.”
She started to say something more, then stopped herself. “Change the subject?”
“Sure thing.”
“You’re going to help Stella.” It was not a question. “Even though she did what she shouldn’t have.”
“She had her reasons to stop us from becoming any closer.”
Ricki shook her head. “None
of that lady’s reasons are good enough. And you both deserve better.”
Daniel had no idea how to respond, so he said, “Yes, I’ll help.”
“Will you tell me what you’re thinking?”
He spent almost half an hour laying it out for the woman. Watching her back away from the tangle of emotions she had brought with her. When he was done, Ricki said solemnly, “It’s a good plan, Daniel.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“So, you’re certain there’s something going on.”
“Better than ninety percent.”
“Is the mayor involved?” When he remained silent, she hissed softly. “She is. I knew it in my bones. I could wring that woman’s neck.”
“I need to go pick up the girls.”
Ricki opened his fridge, shifted things around, and started fitting in her containers. “Tell me something. If you were me, what would you do?”
He knew the conversation had shifted back to their daughter. “Veronica is going to want to go through Chloe’s clothes, choose a selection for the shoot. Be there at the front door. Welcome them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
“Daniel . . .”
“Make them coffee. Offer to show Veronica your closet as well.” He could not help but smile at her expression. “Sorry you asked?”
“Maybe a little.” Ricki hugged him tightly. “There needs to be a new word. One that packs in the kind of thanks you deserve.”
CHAPTER 28
Stella sat in front of Amber’s school, wanting everything to be okay with her daughter. That Amber would pop out like she normally did, a bright flash of joy surrounding her as she searched for Stella’s car. The look she gave, the happy wave, the excited chatter on the way home, all the things that made the empty days worth enduring.
Stella stared at the school’s silent front doors and thought about what Ricki had said. About Daniel only seeing who he had been, not who he had become. Ricki had accepted Stella’s opposition to a relationship without argument. Which suggested. . . what, exactly?
Stella nodded to the empty front lawn. Ricki knew who Stella had become. A woman intent on never allowing a man to hurt her again, disturb her safe little existence, threaten the haven she had built for her little girl.
