Whole-Hearted: A Malsum Pass Novel

by Kimberly Forrest

  “You have mail, princess.”

  Connie and her mother both turned from the window to look at David Tully and Connie smiled in welcome. Her father was shorter than most males in the pack at only five foot seven. Age had graced him with a receding hair line of grays while his wife’s cooking had given him a bit of a belly, but he was still a hero in Connie’s eyes. He held up his hands and gave his fingers a wiggle to display a coating of glitter that sparkled in the light. “Your mail is dangerous, I hope this stuff washes off.”

  Connie laughed, put down her mug, and took the square envelope that looked like it might contain an invitation. She checked the return address and saw it was from Victoria, one of her best friends from cosmetology school. Vic had moved to New York after she had finished school and gotten her license there. She had wanted to work in a top salon in Manhattan, but last Connie knew, she was working in a tiny place in Flushing.

  Carefully, she opened the envelope and pulled out a card. She laughed as glitter exploded to coat the floor around her in sparkly dust. Her mother huffed. “You’ll be vacuuming that up, not me.”

  Connie didn’t respond, her attention focused on the invitation as she let out an excited squeal. Victoria was getting married.

  Chapter Two

  Connie was just about to call Victoria for details when her phone rang. Snatching up the receiver, she glanced at the number and grinned when she saw Tanya’s name flash on the display. Like Victoria, Tanya was another friend Connie had met during her training. But unlike Vic, Tanya had decided to stay close to home and was working and living in Burlington, Vermont. They didn’t see each other as much as they would have liked, but made a point of getting together for dinner or drinks every few months to catch up.

  Connie didn’t even bother with a hello as she accepted the call. “Did you get the same glitter bomb I did?”

  Tanya let out a squeal of delight and Connie could hear her feet stomping a rapid tattoo on the floor in excitement. “Oh. My. God. Can you believe that sneaky little bitch? Last time I talked to her all men were the spawn of Satan and then I get this!”

  “I know, right? Have you talked to her?” Connie asked with a grin, flopping on her bed and rolling onto her back.

  “I just got off the phone with her. His name is Francoise,” she said, drawing out his name with a breathy roll of the tongue that made Connie laugh. Her voice was back to normal when she continued. “He’s totally loaded and according to Vic, hot as hell.”

  Connie let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement and she could faintly hear her father say, “Christ, my poor ears,” before she asked Tanya, “How did they meet?”

  “Okay, get this: Vic was pulling out of the salon in that relic she calls a car when Mr. Fancy runs a red light and takes her front bumper off.” Connie winced, but before she could say anything, Tanya continues. “Well, you know Vic’s temper.”

  “Oh, yeah. Did she need to be bailed out of jail?” Connie asked, only half joking.

  Tanya laughed. “No, but she sure did give him a taste of that Sicilian-Irish temper of hers. Apparently, it turned the guy on because he asked her out to dinner and bought her a new car. Lucky bitch. They dated for about a month before he popped the question with a rock so big that, according to Vic, could blind anyone within a mile radius when the sun hits it.”

  “Damn,” Connie breathed.

  “I know, right? Here I am just hoping for a swipe right and her Mr. Right literally swipes her.” Tanya let out a round of giggles. Once she wound down, Connie asked, “What does he do for work?”

  Tanya let out a little hum. “Not too sure. Something in trade according to Vic, but I don’t think she even knows what exactly.”

  Before Connie could comment on that, Tanya continued. “So, we’re totally going, right? We can do the whole road trip thing. It’ll be fun. You have the SUV so that would be more comfortable than my little VW. I’ll update my playlist, meet you with snacks, and we’ll go from there.”

  Connie looked once more at the invitation. The engagement party was black tie followed by a ladies only brunch the next day. And the date? Well, that fell on the weekend just after the female wolves were due to arrive. Her mother would be pissed, but it seemed just about perfect to Connie. She would be in New York partying and not have to witness Jacob falling in love with another female. “Sounds great.”

  Connie was looking through her closet trying to figure out her wardrobe for the event. She’d never been to a black tie affair. The thought was exciting, and she wanted to buy a new dress but after a credit card fiasco that had left her so deep in debt she didn’t think she’d ever climb out, she’d turned over a new leaf. Every penny she had made for two years helping out at the bed and breakfast, not to mention a huge chunk of her pay each week from the salon, had gone to repay her mother for the financial bailout. She never wanted to be in that situation again. If she didn’t have the money, she didn’t buy anything – period. And while she did have the money for a new dress, she didn’t want to leave herself strapped in case something happened on the way to, or back from, New York. Her vehicle was in excellent condition, but shit happens.

  She pulled out the dress she’d worn for Tara Mason’s wedding to Riley Cooper. It was pretty, but it had been purchased with the autumn theme of the wedding in mind, and the swirls of oranges, and browns, with hints of burgundy didn’t scream black tie. She’d much rather wear the traditional little black dress.

  She was just putting the dress back in her closet when she heard her mother curse a blue streak before yelling her name. Connie sighed, obviously now was not a good time to tell her mother that she would be abandoning her during a time when full occupancy at The Cedars was expected.

  Making her way down from the family area of the old Victorian bed and breakfast, Connie followed the sound of her mother’s grumbles into the guest section and popped her head into one of the rooms. Her mother was standing in front of a closed bathroom door, hands on hips and glaring. “What’s wrong?”

  Her mother turned a ferocious look on her. “That couple that just checked out, locked the bathroom door. Why do people do that? I swear I’m going to remove the locks.”

  Connie shook her head. Her mother needed a cross-stitch pillow that said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” She always got so worked up over such trivial things. “I’ll get my kit.”

  Connie had discovered a hidden talent as a teenager: she was adept at picking locks. It had started out with a locked drawer in her mother’s desk that had intrigued her. She had wanted to know what was in that drawer so badly that she could barely stand it. She’d watched plenty of television shows and movies where people picked locks, so one evening when her parents were out, with the help of google, she had decided to give it a try. It had taken some practice, and quite a few curse words, but she had felt such satisfaction when that lock had finally turned and released. She could now open that drawer and lay eyes on whatever treasure was hidden there. Unfortunately for her, the treasure was nothing more than paperwork, but she was still proud of her accomplishment. She’d continued to practice on different locks throughout the bed and breakfast (when no guests were around, of course) and her father had figured out what she was doing. For her birthday that year, he’d actually gotten her a fancy lock pick set. It had been intended as a gag gift, but she’d loved it. Her mother had thrown a fit, claiming her daughter was meant for better things than being a locksmith, or worse, a common thief, but her father had just laughed. If truth were told, Connie continued to practice the skill in large part because she knew it irritated her mother. Her own mini rebellion to her mother’s demands of how Connie should behave.

  Margaret Tully had eventually grown to appreciate her skill though. While the doors to the guest rooms had duplicate keys if needed, the bathrooms did not and it wasn’t uncommon for a guest to engage the lock before leaving. Sometimes, it was accidental, to be sure, but other times – not so much. Once, someone had completely ripped the shower cur
tain right off, rod and all, and left a big hole in the wall. Connie really didn’t want to know what the guests had been doing to cause such a mess, but they had obviously wanted to hide the destruction until after they had left. Another time – the worst in Connie’s memory – a guest had stopped up the toilet and it had overflowed. The guest hadn’t said a word. They had locked the bathroom door and then checked out, leaving Margaret and Connie to discover the mess once the guest was long gone. Connie shuddered as she grabbed her kit out of her nightstand. She really hoped that wasn’t the case this time.

  Returning to her mother, she knelt and gave a sniff just to be sure. The expected smells of shampoo, soap, and damp towels were a relief. She set to work, and within seconds, she was swinging the door open for her mother.

  With that done, Connie returned upstairs to put the kit away and her thoughts once again turned to her wardrobe. She could borrow a dress, but from who? The only one who really socialized at dressy events was Sherry Pierce, the town’s resident lawyer. It was Saturday, Sherry was sure to be home. Connie could pop over there quick before she was due in at the salon. Just the thought of going out to the Pierce house and possibly running into Jacob set loose the butterflies in her stomach. Before she could tell herself it was a bad idea and talk herself right out of it, she was yelling a hasty goodbye to her parents and nearly running out the door.

  Chapter Three

  Connie pulled into the long driveway of the Pierce house and got out of her vehicle. She could hear the buzz of a table saw as it cut through wood, and smelled the tinge of freshly cut lumber on the breeze. She glanced longingly in that direction but headed toward the main house instead. Everyone in town knew that Jacob had converted the old barn behind the Pierce house into his own home and workspace. She’d never been there, but working at the salon, which was second only to the diner as gossip central, she’d heard about it. His parents had planned on tearing it down since it was unused, but Jacob had convinced them otherwise. He’d restored the old building, created a living space in the former hayloft, and used half of the main level as a workshop where he could build custom cabinets and such for his clients, while the other half housed his snowmobile and motorcycle.

  She was itching to wander over there to see what he was working on, but she leashed the urge. She was here for a purpose and she only had an hour before she had to get to work. Squaring her shoulders with determination, Connie raised a fist and rapped on the door. Within moments Tarvahl Pierce opened the door and grinned. “Hey, Connie. What brings you out this way? No problems I hope.”

  Tarvahl, like all three of his sons, was a tall man. His face weathered with age, but still handsome. His dark red hair and beard had faded with time, but his brown eyes still twinkled with good humor. As one of the council members, he had a lot weighing on those broad shoulders, but he was a kind man, an honorable man, and an excellent leader.

  Connie shook her head and smiled. “No problem. I was hoping Mrs. Pierce might be home.”

  Tarvahl nodded and stepped back from the doorway to allow her through. “She’s in her office, follow me.”

  Connie fell into step behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, “Can I get you some coffee or soda?”

  “No thanks,” she said with a smile. “I doubt I’ll be here long. I need to get to the salon soon.”

  Tarvahl nodded, stopped in front of a dark stained, wooden door and rapped on it lightly before opening it. “Honey, you have a visitor.” He said, before he extended an arm to usher Connie through the opening.

  The room was ultramodern, from the black and white tiled floor and glass and chrome bookshelves, to the black leather upholstery on the chairs. It felt cold and hard, with sharp edges, exactly like the female who occupied the space. Sherry Pierce was sitting behind a behemoth of a glass desk, the light from a computer screen illuminating the female’s face while manila file folders were spread out over every available surface.

  Whereas her husband was fierce yet approachable, Sherry Pierce was just plain fierce. She was definitely the most intimidating woman Connie had ever met. The woman just never seemed to ruffle. Sherry Pierce could stand in the middle of a hurricane and her fall of shiny black locks would never dream of fluttering out of place in fear of earning that female’s wrath.

  Sherry began straightening up the multitude of files and then extended a hand toward one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Sit.”

  Connie didn’t hesitate, jumping to follow the command as she sat just on the edge of the chair and nervously twisted her fingers together. Her palms began to sweat, and she wiped them on her black pants. She knew it was silly to be so nervous, but she just couldn’t seem to help it.

  Sherry Pierce eyed Connie for a moment with that unsettling gaze of hers before she raised a brow in question. “What can I do for you?”

  Connie felt like an idiot who had swallowed her tongue. Why had she come? She watched as Sherry Pierce’s mouth turned down in a frown and she finally recalled her purpose. “I was hoping to borrow a dress.” She blurted in a rush. “I’ve been invited to an engagement party and it’s a black tie affair. I thought you might have something appropriate that I could borrow.”

  Sherry smiled. A real smile that actually reached her eyes and Connie could suddenly breathe. “I have a few that should work well for you. I’ll go get them. Make yourself comfortable.” The older woman said as she stood. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Like before, when Tarvahl had asked her, Connie shook her head and smiled. “No, thank you.”

  Sherry gave a sharp nod and then left the room. Connie glanced around the office while she waited and spotted some framed photos on the wall. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she stood for a better look. There was a large framed canvas, a portrait painted of Tarvahl and Sherry on their wedding day; both were smiling in the picture, but only with their mouths. Connie wondered if the artist had failed to capture the joy of the day properly or if the bride and groom had indeed been forcing smiles they hadn’t truly felt.

  The next several pictures were of the Pierce children, some in infancy with tufts of red hair on their heads, others as young boys playing, and the last, all three as fully grown men standing together in front of The Stag with arms thrown around each other’s shoulders as they smiled for the camera. Connie frowned, remembering that day, the grand opening of the bar that Conner had purchased and now run. A day when she had once again embarrassed herself by following Conner around like a desperate puppy. Her cheeks burned with the memory and her eyes sought out Jacob in the picture. Why would he ever want to be with someone like her? He surely had a low opinion of her character, just like the rest of the town. Did he also think of her as the town joke? The thought only firmed her resolve that she had done the right thing.

  The door opening and Sherry breezing in with garment bags draped over her arms shook Connie from her dark thoughts. “Here we are.” Sherry said, laying the black bags over the back of the chair Connie had vacated. “They’re all black, but I have a few different styles. Feel free to pick a couple if you can’t make up your mind. I have shoes as well, if you need them.”

  Connie felt a bubble of excitement build in her chest, but resisted the urge to squeal her delight as she approached the first bag to unzip. She grinned at Sherry. “Shoes are my addiction, so I have plenty.”

  Turning her attention back to the zippered bags, she went to work revealing each dress. Sherry Pierce certainly didn’t disappoint. She had a range of black dresses in different styles, fabrics, and lengths, but Connie fell in love with one in particular. A long, elegant sheath that would hug the body with a slit up one side, backless with a halter neck, it was absolutely perfect. Connie tamped down another squeal already picturing just how she would style her hair and which pair of heels she’d wear.

  “Nights are getting colder with fall just around the corner. Do you have a wrap?” Sherry asked, and Connie thought of her assortment of jackets and coats
. Nothing she owned would pair well with this dress. Her expression must have shown her dismay as the older woman chuckled. “Give me just a moment, I have the perfect one.”

  As Sherry left the room, Connie held the dress in front of her, smoothing her hands over the fabric lovingly. Hearing the door open, she assumed the older woman was returning and she looked up with a smile only to see Jacob Pierce leaning against the door frame. Her heart did a funny little kick in her chest as her stomach exploded in a riot of butterflies. “Hi, Jacob.” She said and winced at the breathiness of her voice.

  “Hey, Connie. Nice dress.” He said, his chin jutting out to indicate the dress she still had pressed to her front. Was it wrong that she felt disappointment that he didn’t seem all that excited to see her? Yes, yet it was. She had told him to leave her alone. She had done that. She had no right to be upset that he had, in fact, done exactly what she had told him to do. He had moved on. She needed to get over it.

  His dark red hair looked like he had recently had it cut and she frowned. He always came to her to cut his hair. Had he taken a leaf from Conner’s book and gone out of town? The thought was depressing.

  He was also still shaving which was nice to see. He had shaved his full beard this summer when she had suggested it. The man had a great jawline and shouldn’t cover it with all that hair – not that she was opposed to facial hair. Jacob was sexy with or without it.

  She couldn’t resist sweeping her eyes down his frame. Jacob may be the second son, but he was actually a bit bigger than his older brother. His shoulders and arms were more muscular, probably from all the manual labor of his job. Right now, those muscles were encased in a dark green tee shirt that hugged his form, faded jeans, and work boots that still had a coating of sawdust. Connie inhaled and nearly growled. He smelled so good.