by Jacie Floyd
His held up his hand to halt her questions while his blank expression revealed nothing.
She recognized the stubborn look that said she wouldn’t get any more out of him.
He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “I better go.”
“You aren’t staying for the meal?”
Dark shadows moved behind his eyes. “They wouldn’t want me here.”
Because of his treatment of her? His involvement in bilking thousands of people probability hadn’t helped his popularity either. Having had a sketchy upbringing, he’d always sought the town’s approval. Being snubbed by them now would be hard for him to bear.
He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry…”
Her skin prickled as if an important moment hovered in the air.For ruining my reputation? For breaking my heart? “For what?”
Raising his hand as if to reach out to her, he stuck it in his pocket instead, and his eyes shuttered. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
Indignation lodged in her chest. So, this little visit was a courtesy call? Sympathy with a dash of curiosity? There’d be a lot of that on display today, but she hadn’t expected platitudes from Liam. From everyone but him. “That’s what you came to say? To make yourself feel better?”
“He was always good to me. When I was a kid, when we were dating, and even after I came back. I think he knew I appreciated everything he did, but I needed to tell you, face-to-face, so we could get past any hard feelings. He wouldn’t want there to be animosity between us.”
She brushed aside the hurt, snorting with disdain. She’d thought Liam cared enough about her—about their past relationship—to come here today, but it was her father he cared about, not her. Important to remember that little detail while she was in town.
Standing, she ignored another bout of light-headedness and stalked to the door. With a wide gesture, she almost shooed him out. “Too late for that.”
Well, damn. That hadn’t gone well. Liam jumped into his truck and raced down the Marshall’s long driveway. And just in the nick of time, too. A parade of cars turned up the road and snaked toward the house, eager for the feast Barb, Lenore, and the church ladies had planned. The food may not be up to Jillian’s professional standards, but then she hadn’t gotten here in time to have a say, had she?
He probably shouldn’t have left her to face the mob on her own. But she’d made her preference clear. And he could barely tolerate being in her presence another second. As it was, he’d nearly apologized and spilled his guts with the truth about Leah and the baby. But when Jillian had looked at him with her big doe-eyes all sad and distraught about her father’s death, he’d known now was not the time to explain. The time for that was long ago. She hadn’t wanted to hear it then and probably didn’t want to hear it now either.
Being around her and remembering too much about their unintentional break-up and the desperation of that summer did him no good. Too much water had traveled under that bridge. Hell, the whole bridge had collapsed. Getting his life back in line after his most recent disaster was hard enough without getting caught up in what-ifs, could’ve beens, and things he couldn’t have.
And he couldn’t have Jillian. That was for damn sure.
He’d had her once and practically thrown her away. Big mistake, but he’d been young and stupid. Which didn’t let him off the hook for the gargantuan array of mistakes he’d made since then.
Even if she was going to hang around Sunnyside for a while— which she wasn’t—there was no future for them together. Despite what his dick was urging. This was a hell of a time for his sex drive to kick back into gear after months of not giving a damn. But one look at her on her front porch and desire had come roaring back. With a vengeance.
When she’d nearly fainted, he’d been half-glad to have an excuse to have her in his arms again, however, briefly. Swooping her up and heading upstairs to her bedroom had been like old times. But not quite. She hadn’t been the least interested in going there with him. Mentally or physically.
They had too much bad history between them. Her father had just died. Her culinary career consumed all her time and energy. Not to mention, he was pretty much public enemy number one and persona non-grata everywhere in the free world.
Aside from those details… They’d be getting back together any minute now. Yeah, right. He wouldn’t hold his breath. Or let his thoughts wander in that direction.
Pulling into the parking lot of the renovated old barn reminded him of the many things he should be thinking about. Things that didn’t include his high school girlfriend’s smokin’ hot body.
The most important thing he’d learned in rehab was in times of stress to keep his mind and body focused on productive thoughts and projects. Which was why he stayed busy seven days a week from first light until he dropped into bed at night.
What should he do first? Some new equipment had arrived for the fitness center that morning. Someone needed to unpack that and set it up. With almost everybody attending Bert’s wake, there wouldn’t be much business today, leaving him with some free time for the installation. Then he had an email he needed to answer from Leah about the holidays. But that was another topic tied too closely into the things about Jillian he didn’t want to think about.
Even the paperwork piled on his desk appealed to him more than thoughts of Leah and Jillian. Payroll for both the gym and the strip club should be processed. If he was lucky, it would take him several hours to plow through that.
Since he’d told the girls they could have the night off, there wouldn’t be much traffic tonight either. But hard to predict. Some guys might come in to drink or play pool in the back room. He never understood why guys with wives and families found it necessary to spend their evening’s away from home, but hey, he’d take their money any time they wanted to give it to him.
And honestly, he hadn’t been much of a homebody either, back when he had a wife. Too caught up in working and partying. And the lack of kids that had been a sore spot between him and Amara, in retrospect, had been a blessing. No kid deserved to be part of the toxic brew their marriage had turned into.
A half hour later, after changing into jeans and a t-shirt, the company of Shelby, his mostly-Golden-Retriever rescue dog, and some manual labor had temporarily banished the unproductive, negative thoughts of his past. As he tightened the last bolts on a new rowing machine, feminine footsteps approached from the lobby.
“Hey, Liam?”
Shelby wagged his tail at the company, and Liam looked up from his spot on the floor. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I give you the night off?”
Betsy McDaniels, one of the strippers, shrugged, as she squatted down to scratch behind Shelby’s ears. “Rick got called in to work. We need the money for his mom’s dialysis, so he went. I called Lacey, and we decided to come here and cook up a big old-fashioned spaghetti feast for everyone in Bert’s honor. That all right with you?”
“You could go to the wake at Bert’s house. There’s plenty of food there.”
Wearing skinny jeans with the knees blown out and a midriff-skimming tee, the stripper’s hair hung in a long messy braid, and her fresh face was makeup-free. Except for the jumbo mammaries, she looked about twelve. No resemblance to the pole-dancing tease who drove men wild when she stripped down to a thong and heels. “And give that bitch a chance to throw us out? I don’t think so.”
“I doubt Jillian would throw you out, if that’s the bitch you mean.” His own experience notwithstanding. With him, Jillian’s response had been personal. What could she possibly have against Betsy who’d been about eight years behind them in high school? Since the stripper came from his side of the tracks, she and Jillian’s paths probably hadn’t crossed very often.
“If she didn’t, one of those cranky gossips would.” Betsy plopped down on the floor between him and his dog. “You saw how they looked right through us at the service. And we had as much right
to be there as anyone. We’ll miss Bert as much as they will. Maybe more.”
True, the employees of the fitness center and the strip club would miss Bert. He’d been the financial glue that held them together. Not just them, but all of Sunnyside. What would happen now that he was gone was anybody’s guess. “Use the kitchen if you want to but stay out of sight. If any customers see you, they’ll want you to perform.”
Betsy bit her lip and tugged the end of her braid. “Don’t you want us to?”
“Suit yourself, but I thought you’d appreciate a break.”
“A break with paid time-off sounds good, but we need our tip money to pay the bills.”
“I hear that.” Returning a wrench to his toolbox, his knees creaked as he stood. Shelby sprang up, too. “Since I like the idea of having our own memorial service for Bert here, I’ll cover everyone’s tip money for tonight.”
“Thanks, Liam! I’ll tell the girls. And I’ll see if any of the fitness employees want to join us.” Betsy jumped up and gave him an enthusiastic hug. “You’re the best.”
The best what? Strip club manager in Sunnyside, Illinois? Fabulous. Just what he’d always dreamed of. But Betsy was a good kid and meant well. “Save me a plate of spaghetti.”
“Didn’t you eat at Bert’s house either?” She was half-way to the door but looked at him over her shoulder.
“Nope. Too stuffy out there for me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You and Bert were close. I thought you and his daughter used to be tight, too.”
Used to be was the operative phrase. “Not anymore.”
She bit back a sly smile. “And now she’s you’re new boss.”
“I’m very aware.” The idea rankled. But the real question was, did Jillian know? She hadn’t given any hint of it earlier, but then, there’d been plenty of other stuff going on. He intended to stay out of her way, but would she stay out of his?
It seemed like an opportune time to remind Betsy of the ownership change. “She’s your new boss, too.”
The stripper’s smile slid away. “Crap on a cracker.”
Chapter Two
The wake had been a rousing success—judging by the mountains of food that had been eaten and the length of time the mourners had stayed. Jillian’s father would’ve loved every minute of it. Everyone kept saying so. She’d been hugged so often, she felt like a squeeze toy. That part of the ordeal was nearly over. Figuring how to live her life without him still loomed ahead.
At last, the mourners had dwindled down to the core group of her father’s friends and community supporters. The mayor and his wife along with Barb Gentry and her son Grady, Lenore who owned the Sunnyside diner, Josh Novak, and his fiancé, Susannah, along with his sister, Rachel, and a few others, had the cleanup underway.
Jillian had cleaned more than her share of kitchens in her career and craved nothing more than some alone-time, but when she suggested they go home, the group shushed her as they whirled from task to task.
“Shame to let this last piece of cherry pie go to waste.” Lenore carried a pie plate into Bert’s almost-sparkling new kitchen from the dining room. “Who wants it?”
“Won’t you eat it tomorrow, Jillian?” Claire Willoughby asked, as she tossed an armload of paper plates and plastic glasses into the trash.
“She won’t eat it.” Barb jumped in before Jillian could answer. Maybe she was being too sensitive, but the woman had been sniping at her all day. “She hasn’t eaten a thing.”
“Well, she’s been busy hostess-ing and making sure everyone else had a full plate.” Rachel edged around Grady Gentry, who was stacking folding chairs by the back door. She looked over at Jillian and offered a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been on your feet going from one group to another the entire time.”
“I managed a few bites.” Bone-weary, Jillian still knew what was expected of her. “Everything was delicious. Especially the cherry pie. If no one claims it, Lenore, downsize it to a saucer and stick it in the fridge. I’ll eat it for breakfast in the morning.”
“What about these chicken and dumplings?” The mayor peered into a half-empty bowl with longing. “I wouldn’t mind having them for tomorrow’s lunch if you don’t want them, Jillian.”
“You can have them, Mick.” Ready to collapse, she leaned against the granite counter. “Everyone, please, divvy up the leftovers and take what you want. There’s more food than I’ll be able to eat, and I appreciate everything you’ve all done to help me through this difficult day.”
“We did it for Bert.” Barb’s sharp words cut through the murmurs of sympathy from the others.
“Of course,” Jillian agreed. “It’s hard to lose a lifelong friend, and I’ve been away so long, I’m like a stranger to you.”
“He talked about you all the time.” This from Claire, who, bless her heart, knew what it was like to be treated like an outsider.
“He was so proud of you,” Rachel said. “We’re happy you’re back now.”
“How long will you be here?” Barb’s question shut everyone up. They were all curious about Jillian’s answer. “Will you be here for Thanksgiving?”
There were things going on in New York with her new restaurant she should get back for, but there were probably details in Sunnyside she needed to take care of first. “I haven’t got a set schedule yet. The holidays are still up in the air.” She couldn’t begin to imagine planning the holidays without her dad. “As Dad’s attorney, I guess you’ll want to see me pretty quickly.”
“There’s a lot to go over.” His wife poked him in the ribs. “Some of it can’t wait, I’m afraid.” And just that quickly, the old family friend was gone, replaced by the responsible professional. The keeper of all her father’s records and secrets—if he had any.
The camaraderie of clean-up duties vanished, and the tension in the room ratcheted upward. As she had throughout the day, she got the idea that the people around her knew things she didn’t. Not surprising, of course, given her twelve-year absence.
The idea of making decisions about her father’s wide-ranging business and financial interests boggled her mind. She hated the idea of dismantling his empire, but it wouldn’t run itself. Who else was qualified to oversee it? Not her, that was for sure. Maybe she could hire a business manager. The sooner they got through the legalities, the sooner she’d know what she was facing and how soon she could get on with her own plans. “When would you like to meet?”
“Tomorrow afternoon would be best. I’ll have Trudy call to set up a time.”
“We’re about done here.” Claire slipped her arm through her husband’s. “Jillian would like to get off her feet and see an end to this long day, dear. Get your leftovers and let’s go.” She turned to Jillian with a comforting hug. “You should rest.”
The mayor’s shoulders slumped, his face lined with grief. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was a good man, all things considered. Not perfect, but none of us are.”
“I know.” Jillian gave him the patented “there, there” pat on the back while she pondered his all things considered remark. Her father was a good man, period. What else was there to consider? “Your eulogy this morning was beautiful. Thank you so much.”
Mick swiped a hand across his eyes. “Today was a fabulous send-off for a helluva guy. We all came together to eat and drink and tell our favorite stories about him.” Mick pinched her cheek. “Some of them were even true.”
“Your father would have loved it,” Claire said.
Carrying their potluck dishes and leftover containers, the others trooped out with similar comments, until only Rachel, Grady, and Barb remained.
“Thank you for coming all the way from St. Louis, Grady.” Here was an old friend that she could hug and mean it. “Very thoughtful.”
“Knew him all my life.” With his eyes misting over, he looked away as he cleared his throat. “He coached my Little League team when I was a kid. Kind of an institution around here. The least I could do was drive over and say go
od-bye.”
His arm circled her shoulders, and she took comfort from the gesture. “I appreciate it.”
“I’m staying through the weekend. We’ll have to get together again while you’re here. Maybe we can have a group thing in a day or two.” His comments were directed at Jillian, but his gaze sought out Rachel’s.
“Let’s do that,” Jillian agreed. “I’d like to see everyone when I’m not on the verge of bursting into tears any minute.”
“I’ll call some of the guys, and maybe Rachel can get in touch with the girls.”
Rachel had turned away to store a serving platter in the cupboard. Facing them, she raised her chin and crossed her arms. “Whatever Jillian would like me to do.”
The comment sounded more like a challenge then an offer, but maybe Jillian was reading too much into it. Rachel and Grady had been a high-school item, but surely any ill-will between them had disappeared long ago. Or maybe not. Look at her and Liam. Their contentious past still colored their present, too.
“That’s so sweet.” Ignoring the tension crackling in the air, she hugged Rachel. “I’ll let you know my schedule tomorrow after my meeting with Mick.”
“Call me if you need or want to talk.” Rachel shot Grady a resentful look, shrugged into her raincoat, and ducked out the backdoor.
Grady straightened from his loose-limbed slouch against the bar. “I better go, too.”
“Wait!” Her fingers gripped his hand. “Don’t forget your mother. She’s still here somewhere.”
“She’s got her own car.” He winked and slipped out the door.
“I guess you don’t want to wait for her then.” Jillian moved to the back-door window to observe his departure.
Grady dashed up to Rachel’s car. She paused in backing out and lowered the window. He made some comment, the glass slid back up, and she drove away. He stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, studying the toes of his boots for a moment, then headed toward his SUV.
