Ty looked ready to spit. “It’s for charity.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do it, but I’m keeping my shirt on.”
“Agreed.” If anyone understood the shirt thing, it was Ty.
Scott shook on it. “It’s a deal, Mr. December.”
“Fuck you, Mr. September.”
Scott spent the rest of his forty-eight hours on shift wondering what the hell he’d agreed to do. This stupid calendar had been the talk of the town since Ophelia had come up with the bright idea and up until now he’d managed to stay clear of it. But one irritating and unforgettable woman later, and he was in with the rest of the fools.
Speaking of Diana, he must have screwed up epically or she wouldn’t still be carrying a grudge. Despite what she and everyone else might have believed, he’d been a sixteen-year-old virgin in those days. He might have been wild with fast cars but he’d never been with a girl. Somehow he’d developed a reputation despite it. Not that he went out of his way to correct anyone. These days, he had plenty of offers for female company on a daily basis but he hadn’t been with a woman in two years. He figured it was too difficult to start a relationship right now. Most women wouldn’t put up with him being gone for long stretches at a time, which he fully intended to do if he could get assigned to the wildfires. He was single, free and clear of any major responsibilities and he realized he could do some good for once.
Instead, everyone seemed determined to set him up.
Not to mention that the women who were after him were a little desperate and a lot nuts. Leticia Weathersbee had handcuffed herself to her bed and then lost the keys, he strongly suspected purposely. When she’d called the fire department for help, he’d been the one stuck working on her for an hour while she wore nothing but a towel he’d thrown on her. Then she’d privately offered him an off-duty blow job as a thank you for his troubles.
He’d thanked her for offering, but was going to have to pass on that one.
Annie Lane kept losing her cat in the tree. He had it on good authority she regularly placed him there. Poor cat. At times he wondered if any of these women could be arrested for wasting his time, but it was difficult to prove they were doing it on purpose.
Of course, his mother had her own opinions on who he should date. Not to be outdone, each sister-in-law had campaigned for someone. Brooke thought he should date Fallon, Billy’s old high school girlfriend. Gen kept trying to fix him up with one of the temporary workers she’d hired at the bakery, a twenty-something girl who couldn’t even look him in the eye. They were all girls from town, and all knew him and his family. Consequently, each one of them looked at him with a kind of hero worship a guy could get sick of pretty quickly.
Diana hadn’t grown up here, and she didn’t know him that well. She didn’t have the slightest amount of hero worship for him. In fact she pretty much appeared to have no use for him at all. Kind of refreshing, if he was being honest. Given that he was regularly treated at The Tavern to rounds on the house such that he hadn’t paid for a drink since he’d been back state side, Scott understood Diana was different. She remembered the wild and irresponsible kid. He could see no small amount of judgment in her eyes, like she alone was clued in to just how many people in his life he’d already failed.
Something new to him, not wholly unexpected, and for once exactly what he deserved.
4
Diana checked to see whether the video had been taken down every day. No luck. One week later, the video had taken on a life of its own. Worse, a local restaurateur who fancied himself a blogger of all things having to do with Starlight Hill, had put up a version of the video on his blog. The version set to “All About That Bass”, definitely not her favorite. Stephan “My two cents for what it’s worth” stated plainly in a disclaimer that he was asserting his first amendment right to free speech, and any other amendments that might apply. Fortunately, the comments were mostly tame.
All of that was bad enough, but three days ago, Diana had received a package in the mail with a bathrobe in it. No name, but a note: Might want to cover up next time. This should help. Diana tore up the note, and let Gran think that Mom had mailed her the robe she’d forgotten to bring with her.
Next, a note from someone: Were you alone or planning to meet someone? Please be honest. Signed, Worried Wife.
That note bothered Diana more than the other one. Someone in town thought she hadn’t been alone that night.
She hadn’t seen Scott since asking for his help, which was just as well. The man was all manner of distraction for her, and she couldn’t afford to get off track with her new life. After six years of Bradley, anyone would need a break from men. At least Gran still had her wits about her, and now all she had to do was talk her mother into realizing it. Also of course, find a job and an apartment.
Diana showered and dressed, expecting another big breakfast. She’d probably gained five pounds since arriving at Gran’s.
She found Gran in the kitchen. “Morning.”
“Good morning, dear. I’ll have breakfast ready in a jiffy.”
Diana grabbed a mug of coffee and took a seat the kitchen table. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Today I thought we’d organize all your magazines and books. Then I’ll box them up and put them in the attic for you.”
Gran pointed her spatula at Diana. “You should go and hang out with some young people. Like Genevieve. She’s a wonderful girl, and you would love her. I think she’s right about your age. You might have played with her when you and Mandy were younger.”
“But I’m here to hang with you.”
“You’re too young to hang out with an old lady like me.”
“Is that your way of avoiding my organization efforts?”
“Not at all. I just want you to do the healthy thing, and socialize with people your own age.”
“And I want you to socialize with people your own age!”
Gran shook her head. “People my age are dead, dear.”
Diana sighed. “Not all of them.”
“Fine, fine. Maybe I’ll do bingo if that will get you to shut up.”
“Great!” Progress, at last. “I’ll even go with you. It should be fun.”
Gran fanned herself with the spatula. “For the love of all that’s holy, it’s hot today.”
Someone rang the doorbell. “Mrs. Paulsen! It’s me!”
“It’s Genevieve.” Gran set her spatula down and walked towards the door.
“I’ll get the door. You sit,” Diana ordered.
Shockingly, Gran listened.
Diana opened the door to the prettiest redhead she’d ever seen. Usually red hair was hard to pull off. “Hi! I’m Genevieve Turlock.”
“I’m Diana. Betty’s granddaughter.”
“I think I remember you! You used to visit summers, didn’t you? Didn’t we play Barbies once?”
“Uh, maybe?”
She smiled ear to ear and held out a box. “I’ve got pastries.”
“Come in, Gen, dear,” Gran’s voice could be heard from just inside.
Diana supposed they had company now. Never mind that the house was a disaster and Diana didn’t feel much like entertaining. The girl seemed nice at least, and she did have to thank her for being such a good neighbor.
Genevieve walked right past Diana like she owned the place. “Hey, Mrs. Paulsen. Sorry I haven’t been by lately, but I heard you had company. Anyway, I’ve got your favorites.”
Gran’s face split in a smile. The woman loved her sweets, and the proverbial grand-apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Gen set the box down and flipped it open. Diana tried not to salivate. She hadn’t eaten sugar in months, but she’d substituted chips in its place.
“I have to thank you for the way you’ve looked in on Gran all this time,” Diana said, refraining from taking one of the cinnamon rolls. It seemed that she was stuck in some kind of staring contest with it. She was pretty sure that roll wanted her as muc
h as she wanted it.
“Oh, no problem,” Genevieve said, getting plates from the cupboard. “I used to live next door. You probably already know that. But now I’m married, thank God. To the love of my life.”
“Uh-huh. So happy for you,” Diana said. Genevieve seemed to know where everything was located. She dug utensils out and napkins and arranged them all on the table.
Gran smiled as Genevieve put a tiny Bundt cake on her plate. “Perfect. Diana and I were just about to have a hot breakfast but this is so much better.”
Genevieve put the cinnamon roll on a plate and gestured for Diana to sit. “For you.”
Genevieve was apparently psychic too. Diana shouldn’t be rude to her, so she sat down. “Thanks.”
“I’m so sorry about the fire. I heard you lost everything.” Genevieve put her hand on Diana’s shoulder.
“Just about. I’m grateful no one was hurt.”
“Indeed. Count your blessings, I always say. How long will you be in town?” Genevieve asked.
“The whole summer!” Gran answered.
“I’ll find an apartment as soon as possible. A short-term rental,” Diana said.
“No rush, dear.” Gran turned to Gen. “Diana is a writer. Graduated with her MFA in creative writing.”
“But I’m not—”
“You’re a writer! What are you working on?” Genevieve asked.
“I can’t really talk about it. Special project,” Diana said, and blushed.
The fire inspector had said she could go by the fire station to pick up what was left from the fire. She expected the laptop would be gone, but at least her finished novel was in a cloud somewhere. Should she ever want to go back and revise for the twentieth time. Last night she’d started on her experiment again using the Alphasmart, and gone on for two pages before she’d decided to take a long sanity break.
Right now this cinnamon roll was about her only slice of happy. She’d take it. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you!” Genevieve sat across from Gran. “Don’t forget, Wallace is coming over to fix your sink, remember.”
“The sink? What’s wrong with it?” Diana asked.
“It’s no big deal,” Gran said. “It’s just old.”
Diana made a mental note to do a quick inspection of anything else in her Gran’s house that might need repairing. An old and falling in on itself house was just one more reason Mom could give for Gran to move in to a nursing home. “That’s okay. We can hire someone.”
“I don’t hire repairmen, dear,” Gran said. “That’s when they come in and case the place.”
For what? Old issues of Good Housekeeping?
“Wallace doesn’t mind at all,” Gen said.
“Okay. Thank him for me. I really do appreciate you looking in on my grandmother. You’re very sweet,” Diana said. “I owe you.”
Genevieve waved her hand dismissively. “My pleasure. We’ll have to get someone to show you around town. I mean, you know the place but you’ve been gone for a while. You need to get reacquainted. We got a movie theater two years ago.”
“Thanks, but that’s not really—”
“If you’re going to be here all summer…” Gen said. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Diana broke up with her college boyfriend a few months ago,” Gran said.
Yes, that was her story and she was sticking to it. She broke up with Bradley, not the other way around. Six years is a long time, Diana. If we were going to get married we’d have done it by now, but I’m just not feeling it.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I can fix you up with a local guy. It would be fun!”
Diana choked on a piece of her roll. She’d thought that her Mom, who had weddings on the brain twenty-four seven and in particular, a concern that her daughters might not ever have one, was bad enough. Diana couldn’t answer Gen because her mouth was full of gooey cinnamon sugar clogging her throat. She shook her head instead, then coughed and chewed. Dating, of all things, was not going to happen. This town was bad luck. Her dates tended not to show up in this town.
Gran patted Diana’s hand. “It would be good for you to get out there, and have some fun with the young people.”
Gran said ‘the young people’ like they were all in a nineteen fifties movie with jukeboxes, roller skates and big circle skirts. Young people hooked up, and Diana was not hooking up.
“I’ll be on the lookout for just the right guy,” Gen said. “I’m new at this matchmaking thing but I have a good feeling about it.”
“Perfect! And make sure he’s tall,” Gran said as though she were ordering off a menu, “Because my Diana’s statuesque. I’ll never forget that high school senior prom photo of you, dear, and the little man next to you. It’s tough being a big woman.”
Diana swallowed quickly before Gran had her married off and had named her firstborn. “Okay, listen, both of you.” Diana reached for her mug of coffee and took a swallow to ease the cinnamon down. “I’m not going to have any time to date. Anyone.”
Gen and Gran exchanged looks. Both spoke at once. “Anyone?”
“No one. I have to help Gran get this place into tip-top shape before my mother comes out to visit next month. I’m going to find myself a place to live and a job.”
“What about after that?” Gen asked.
After that? She hadn’t gotten that far yet, but Gen didn’t need to know that. “Tell you what. We can talk again after I get all that done.”
“Good, because I have just the guy in mind. Scott, my brother-in-law,” Gen said. “He’s still single, believe it or not.”
“Scott! And he’s tall, too,” Gran clapped her hands and turned to Diana. “At least six three. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it!”
Of course, because being tall was her one and only requirement for a mate. “I’m not dating anyone,” Diana repeated slowly. Least of all him. She was fairly sure that Scott wouldn’t want to date her, either, unless he was doing it for his good guy image.
“I mean for when you are,” Gen said.
“Why can’t he get his own date? I’m pretty sure all he has to do is walk out the door and the women would just fall in his path.” Diana licked some icing off her finger.
“They do,” Gen said. “But he’s picky.”
“I’d love to, but even after I get all that done, I won’t want to leave Gran alone.”
Gran scowled. “Don’t let me stop you. I want you to have fun. And for the love of Pete, do you think I need a babysitter?”
“Oh no, Gran,” Diana protested, realizing her mistake. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Then you’ll go out with Scott when you’re ready to date. It’s settled.” Gran said, and patted her lips with a napkin.
It was not settled. Diana stared from Gen to Gran, words failing her. Fine, she’d let them set her up on a date with Scott. And maybe then she’d do what he did to her all those years ago—never show up.
Diana had to find an apartment and a job in this little town. She’d been scouring the paper daily and found two job openings: a school crossing guard and the shampoo girl at a salon someone had the nerve to name the Curl Up and Dye. Short terms rentals weren’t any easier to find because surprise: there were no apartment units built in Starlight Hill. Just a smattering of Victorian homes across town that had been split up into tiny postage-size units. Of course, only one was available.
While Gran napped, Diana scheduled an appointment to see the unit, and one for Gran to have a complete check-up and physical. She then rifled through the paper again.
She was getting desperate because Mom had called several times and asked about Gran, always ending the conversation by asking which nursing homes seemed best. But Diana had to change the subject every time because she hadn’t checked out nursing homes. She flipped through pages of bake sales, bingo nights, church bazaars and wine tasting events. Saw something about a firefighter calendar. They were actually going to make one of those classic calendars women all over the countr
y loved to drool over. It was for some local charity called Vineyards for Literacy. Of course Scott would be on it, probably half naked. Well, that would be something. She’d pay to see that.
Taking a break, Diana went outside to check Gran’s mail and found a package addressed to her on the front step. She opened it up, and this time there was a pair of flannel pajamas inside with a note:
I’ve been happily married for twenty years. Three kids and I always wear flannel to bed. Think about it.
At this rate she would soon have an entirely new wardrobe. Once upon a time she might have let something like this hurt her feelings but no more. Women in this snarky little town had way too much time and access to pajamas on their hands. If she could have one minute alone with these cowards who wouldn’t even face her, she’d…she’d…well, she’d probably just apologize and explain that she already had a perfectly good robe.
But then again, it was possible that all the clothing might have even been sent by the same bitter, whiny, lingerie-hater.
Diana’s cell phone rang and she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Hey,” a deep sexy male voice said on the other end of the line. She recognized Scott immediately. “Gen gave me your number.”
“Oh, hey Scott.” Speak of the devil. Why had her heart started to race? The man meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. For one terrible moment, she worried that he was calling to ask her out on a date, at Gen’s insistence, as a favor to her. Be kind to the new girl in town, Mrs. Paulsen’s granddaughter. Take her out and show her around. She’s lonely, the poor spinster. She didn’t need any more favors from him. Saving her life had been enough of a favor.
This good guy image was not at all the way she remembered him. He’d been wild, rangy and unpredictable. That unpredictable part she’d seen up close and personal. To a sixteen-year-old virgin who’d never even kissed a boy before, Scott had been more than a little bit intriguing. She wondered when and why he’d decided to become Mr. Wonderful and everybody’s best friend.
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