by Ali Franklin
A laugh tinkled through the line. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but it wouldn’t hurt if you had an ally on the board. You know, someone who can advocate for you in case the other members need to be convinced.”
Danielle leaned against the kitchen counter as she tried to process Veronica’s words. She glanced into the living room to see her daughter stroking a satin pillow while she waited for Danielle to return.
The voice came through the phone again. “Danielle, are you there, dear?”
“Yes, I’m here.” She rubbed a hand across her face.
“I’ll give you a day or two to get the information,” said Veronica. “But don’t keep me waiting too long. I often run into board members while I’m out doing my other charity work.”
Danielle slowly let out a breath as she tried to think of a way to stall the other woman. “I can’t promise anything. I’d need a reason to request a patient’s health records. They’re not just sitting out in the open.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Veronica—”
“—You’re a clever girl. I’ll expect to hear from you within the next few days.” Veronica ended the call.
Danielle stood, gaping at her phone.
“Mama, are you done yet?”
Danielle closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
Shortly after noon on Sunday, Ryan stood in her kitchen clad in an apron and holding a big wooden spoon so Nicki could sample Ryan’s dish. Nicki licked her lips and frowned. Seeing her expression, Ryan threw the spoon back into the pan. Grease spattered against the backsplash.
“I'm never going to get this.”
“It’s okay,” said Nicki, taking a big sip of her beer. “I know they make it look easy on TV, but cooking chili does take some skill.”
“Chili?” moaned Ryan. “This is just the meat. I haven’t even started on the chili.”
Nicki flashed her crooked grin. “The secret to good chili is the perfect combination of meats—in our case, ground beef and Italian sausage.”
“I thought you said the secret was the bacon and the beer.”
“That’s true,” said Nicki, “but it all starts with the meat. Now tell me what you did here.” She waved a hand at the big pan with the simmering meat.
“I did just what you told me. I browned the beef while I got everything else ready. The beef turned out a little bland, so I added a touch of seasoned salt.”
“How much seasoned salt?”
“Just a few shakes,” said Ryan. “Enough to give it some flavor.”
“Flavor,” repeated Nicki. “What did you think the rest of these ingredients were for?” She gestured to the counter, filled end-to-end with ingredients for the chili.
“So…too much seasoned salt?”
Nicki nodded. “You’ll have to start over.”
Ryan transferred the seasoned meat into a plastic container. She was sure she could use it for something else in the next few days. As she dropped another pound of ground beef into the pan, Ryan relayed her conversation with Father Paul about the gym.
“Did Veronica tell him why she backed out of her offer to pay for it?” asked Nicki.
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Maybe she and Chase are broke.”
“I doubt it.” Ryan stirred the meat. “She’s still driving that big gas-guzzler.”
“Maybe she’s mad at Father Paul about something at the church.”
“She did make a comment about some of the homeless men Father Paul works with,” said Ryan. “She probably thinks it’s unseemly for her priest to be working with poor people.”
“Does Father Paul have a backup plan to get the money?”
“He wanted to have another pancake breakfast, but I told him we have enough athletes and fans at the college to figure out something even better.”
Nicki grabbed a canvas shopping bag from the counter, balled it up and executed a perfect jump shot toward the garbage can. The heavy canvas fell to the floor, well short.
“Brick,” the women said in unison.
“We do have plenty of fans,” said Nicki. “And don’t all the athletic teams do work in the community?”
“Yeah. I’m sure the coaches and staff would add a workday or two to their schedule, but we’ll need money for the materials.”
Nicki picked up the shopping bag again and pretend-dribbled it around the kitchen. She stopped and looked back at Ryan. “My guys have been looking for a community project. I’ll tell them about it at our staff meeting this week. Maybe they can come up with a fundraising idea.”
“That’d be great, Nick. But remember to wait until after the FLH. We don’t want to create a conflict of interest, especially if there’s a problem between Veronica and Father Paul.”
Ryan stirred the ground beef, then tipped the pan toward Nicki. “How does this look?”
The chief took the wooden spoon from Ryan and poked at the meat. “It’s ready. You didn’t add anything, right?”
“Nope.”
Nicki instructed Ryan to move the ground beef to the slow cooker and add the diced Italian sausage. Then they worked together to measure the wet ingredients and spices into a pot on the stove. They worked slowly and methodically, double checking their measurements before adding each ingredient. Once the spices were well-mixed, they’d be transferred to the slow cooker to simmer for a few hours. Nicki murmured instructions along the way, imparting some of the “chili wisdom” her father had passed on to her through the years.
When everything was in the slow cooker, the women took their beers into the living room. Ryan plopped onto the couch while Nicki kicked back in the recliner.
“I never knew cooking could be so tiring,” said Ryan.
“It can be. You’ve got to pay attention the whole time or you might end up with something you didn’t expect.”
“I feel like I had a workout.”
“Speaking of workouts,” said Nicki. “When are you coming back to kickboxing?”
Ryan lay back on the couch and stretched her legs. “I think I’m done with kickboxing. I used it to stop a killer. Anything I do with it now will be anticlimactic.”
Nicki rolled her eyes.
Ryan had indeed used her kickboxing skills to disable a killer the previous semester. The murderer had evaded capture by shining a flashlight into Nicki’s night-vision goggles, temporarily blinding the chief. Ryan was—against all orders—monitoring the situation from nearby. When the killer got close, Ryan kicked her in the gut. The move disabled the perpetrator long enough for Nicki to catch up and take her into custody.
Ryan hadn’t wanted to return to kickboxing class after that night. She still ran, cycled, or swam a few times a week, but she hadn’t found anything to replace kickboxing—yet.
“What about tennis?” asked Nicki.
“You sound like Chase.” Ryan paused. “I wonder if he found a partner for the tournament.”
“Why doesn’t he play with his wife?”
“He told me she doesn’t play,” said Ryan. “In fact, she never even goes to the club. He calls it ‘his space.’”
“Those two are an interesting couple. They always look so compatible when you see them at a party or a formal event, but it sounds like things are different in everyday situations.”
“You should see them trip over each other at their house,” said Ryan. “I’ve been there for parties before. I get the feeling they don’t spend a lot of time together.”
Nicki laid her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Have you ever been in a relationship like that, where you’re not in sync?”
“No, but I’ve never been with anyone as long as Chase and Veronica have been together.”
“What was your longest relationship?”
Ryan turned her head to look at her friend. “Three years. You?”
“Two years. But I’d like to settle down with the right person.”
The women were silent fo
r a few minutes. Nicki picked up her empty beer bottle and stood.
“Do you need anything from the kitchen?”
Ryan declined and Nicki went to get another beer. Ryan thought about her three-year relationship with Kate Ritter, the doctor she’d met through friends when she lived in New York City. Ryan had been ready to settle down, but after two years Kate had decided she wasn’t happy. She’d had affairs with two patients during the last year she and Ryan were together. Ryan had been gun-shy ever since, never dating a woman for more than a few months before calling it off.
Ryan hadn’t considered seriously dating again until last summer, when she’d met and fallen for a friend of Teddy and Summer’s. Unfortunately, that friend had turned out to be a murderer. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault. The woman had been a sociopath, after all. But it still damaged Ryan’s belief in her ability to judge women—and her hope of ever finding “the one.”
Nicki came back into the room with a smile on her face. “I tasted the chili, and the flavors are starting to mesh. I think it’s going to turn out fine. I need to go run some errands.” She glanced at her watch. “Call me in three hours and tell me how great it is.”
“Wait. You’re not staying to taste the results?”
Nicki winked. “You’re on your own kid. But you’ll be fine. Those flavors will keep soaking into the meat even after you stop cooking it. It will be perfect by tomorrow night.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Chapter 5
Back at “the estate,” Veronica reached down to pat the three cocker spaniels on their heads.
“You’re mommy’s little darlings, aren’t you, my perfect little babies?” She hurried to the other side of the kitchen and opened the canister that held the dog treats. She spent the next few minutes making the dogs sit and stand on their hind legs to earn the little biscuits.
When they had finished with this routine, Veronica walked to the family room, the dogs trailing behind. She sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. The dogs jumped up in unison, jostling for position on their mistress’ lap. She petted them each in turn.
“Oh, Eenie, you are such a pretty girl.” She reached for the next spaniel. “Meenie, you are the most handsome boy I’ve ever known.” And to the third, “My sweet, special Miney. Don’t you let your brother and sister bully you just because you can’t jump as high as they can. I love you just as much as Eenie and Meenie.”
The little dogs turned circles and rolled onto their backs for tummy rubs. Veronica laughed. She loved this time of day, when she was home with her fur babies and no one else was around. It was the only time she felt like herself. She could say whatever she wanted without anyone arguing. She could eat what she wanted without anyone making snide comments. And she could rub her face against a dog’s fur for as long as she liked.
Not that the rest of her life was terrible, but here no one wanted anything from her—other than treats. She could relax and be plain old Veronica Smith from Bowling Green, Kentucky. No one was asking her for money, no one was inviting her to another amateur art opening. She wasn’t having to make light but appropriate cocktail-party conversation with social climbers or leading the charge against an inappropriate book in the school library.
Being the doyenne of Haverwood society was exhausting.
She really couldn’t complain. She’d purposely built this life for herself after deciding at a young age that she didn’t want to be poor. When she’d met Chase Arrington in college, she knew she’d found her path to the society page. Chase was a handsome, charming playboy, the oldest son of a wealthy New England family. The Arrington money was as old as the Massachusetts town where the first Arringtons had settled after sailing from England.
Snagging an Arrington was a perfect way to gain both wealth and prestige, and Veronica worked hard to make sure she closed the deal with Chase. The fact that she’d been pregnant with Emerson on their wedding day was sheer coincidence. Chase had been in love with her for years by then.
She sat up on the couch when she heard the door from the garage open and close. Chase blew into the kitchen and greeted her with, “Hiya, Ronnie.”
She took her feet off the coffee table and stomped them on the floor. “For the millionth time, I told you not to call me that.”
“Oh, come on. You know I only do it when we’re at home. There’s no sense in pretending here.”
Veronica glared at her husband. She couldn’t have said why, but she was ready for a fight. “There’d be no need to pretend at all if we could have stayed in Boston.”
“Boston? But you’re the queen bee here. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
“Of course,” she sniffed. “What girl doesn’t dream of growing up to be the leader of society in a Texas county the size of your fingernail?”
Chase opened the fridge and took out a beer. “Do you want to move to Dallas? There’s more ‘high society’ there.” He made air-quotes with his fingers. “And you’d be closer to your father’s office.”
“It’s my office. Daddy’s gone, and I’ve been running the firm for years. I don’t know why you insist on still calling it his company.”
“Well, it is an engineering firm. And you don’t know the first thing about engineering.”
“My firm is profitable because I’m a fabulous businesswoman. You should be grateful for my talents. Otherwise, you and I would be living on the streets, looking over our shoulders.”
“Ronnie,” said Chase. “Don’t start. My father is a good man.”
“So good that he bilked thousands of people out of their retirement savings. He’s nothing more than a crook.”
“He’s paying his debt to society.”
She stood, displacing the dogs from her lap. They jumped and whined, trying to reclaim her attention. “Your father is the reason we had to move out here—so people wouldn’t seek us out, wouldn’t try to get revenge for what he did.”
“We moved out here for Emerson,” he said, his head low. “We didn’t want him to have to grow up with people blaming him for what happened to their families.”
Chase’s reminder took some of the wind out of Veronica’s sails. She sat back on the couch and picked up one of the dogs. As she stroked its fur, her husband came around the edge of the breakfast bar. She noticed his outfit.
“I suppose you were playing golf?”
His brow furrowed for a moment, then he looked down at his clothes. “Oh, yes. Golf.”
“Who did you play with?”
“Oh, just some of the guys at the club. No one you know.” He moved toward the stairs.
“Some of the guys, huh? So if I happened to glance at your credit card statement, I’d see a charge at the club?”
“No,” he answered immediately. “The golf is included in the membership, and one of the guys bought the drinks afterwards.”
“How convenient.”
He started up the stairs, but stopped when Veronica spoke again.
“Chase, I understand men of your age tend to go through…a phase.” She looked up from the dog she was petting and met his gaze. “I would just appreciate it if you would exercise a bit of decorum when you are indulging in your,” she paused, searching for the right word. “Dalliances.”
He turned as though he would protest, then shook his head and continued up the stairs.
Nicki spent the evening with a glass of wine, her two golden retrievers, and the Hallmark Channel. Her conversation with Ryan that afternoon had brought back memories Nicki hated to face, and she drowned the memories in a movie she knew would have a happy ending.
It was odd that she and Ryan had never talked in detail about their past relationships before. After all, they’d known each other for almost three years, and friends tend to tell each other their personal stories as they’re getting to know each other. Teddy and Summer knew Nicki’s history, but it had never come up with Ryan.
Nicki tilted her glass, catching the last drop of wine on her tongue. She consi
dered having another. It had taken her two hours to drink the first one, and it wasn’t nearly bedtime. She went to the kitchen and filled the glass halfway. She stood there, still thinking about the only woman she’d ever come close to loving.
Nicki might have grown to truly love Amanda if she’d tried. But there was always something in the back of Nicki’s mind; something that kept her from giving herself fully to the relationship. Truth be told, Nicki had wanted more: more sparks more excitement, more tenderness.
Nicki knew she had high standards. Her parents had been married almost forty years before her mom died, and she knew they’d been in love the whole time. Sure, there had been hard times, but they’d trusted each other and been committed to their family. And they both said the good times were well worth the times of struggle.
When Nicki let herself think about finding her own spouse, she worried she would never find someone as perfect for her as her parents had been for each other. They had been great role models for relationship-building. Thanks to their example, Nicki knew if she ever found true love, she’d work hard to make it last.
Nicki hadn’t dated much since she’d moved to Haverwood. Not that people hadn’t tried. She got a lot of attention from both men and women any time she went anywhere in her chief’s uniform. And if she were honest with herself, she got almost as much attention in her street clothes.
Nicki was tall and fit, with well-toned muscles that weren’t hard to spot. Her short, white-blond hair was the perfect frame for her face with its high cheekbones and wide-set green eyes. She had a ready smile and an easy-going, confident air that drew people to her.
But it was a small town, and everyone knew she was the chief of police at the college. Some people thought that was a turn-on. But for Nicki, the responsibility of being a law enforcement officer and a representative of the college made her think twice about who she might date. She knew she could be anonymous in one of the lesbian bars in Dallas, but she’d decided to make Haverwood her home in order to be close to her father. She didn’t want to start a relationship with someone who lived over an hour away or more.
