Starlight Hill: Complete collection 1-8

by Heatherly Bell

  “So you’re a writer?” Mrs. St. Michaels, the landlord, asked as she waited for Diana to fill out the application form for the studio apartment. The place should be called a studio wannabe, but it would have to do for now. She didn’t need much room, and as it turned out she wouldn’t have it.

  “No,” Diana said.

  Somehow everyone in Starlight Hill now thought that Diana was a professional writer. And naturally, everyone had a story that had to be told. Yesterday.

  “But you’re writing an article for the town’s website? Right?”

  She’d forgotten everyone in town would already know that. “Well, that. I am writing one article.”

  “And Betty says you’re a writer. Are you calling her a liar?”

  Diana looked up from her application where she’d written that she currently had no employer. She spoke slowly and patiently (she hoped). “No, my grandmother isn’t a liar. But are you familiar with the term ‘hyperbole’?”

  “Absolutely. My grandson has it. They put him on medication in the third grade and now he doesn’t act like a spinning top at Thanksgiving. Sometimes drugs are a wonderful thing.”

  Diana sighed and handed over the application. “You’ll probably notice I don’t have an employer yet. I’m working on that.”

  “I thought you were a writer?”

  “No, see, that’s a one-time thing. Freelance. I’m looking for something steady.”

  “Hey, maybe you could write a book for me. I’ve got some stories to tell, believe you me. I haven’t been a landlord for twenty-five years without having some stories. Tragedies, even!”

  “I’m not really—”

  “I could pay you. Not much, of course.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Diana said. “How about you rent me the apartment and I’ll help you out with your book sometime?”

  “Honey, that’s a deal.”

  Diana looked over the month-to-month lease, wrote out a check which took a good chunk of her savings, shook on it with Mrs. St. Michaels, and made plans to move in next week. Then she headed to Gen’s bakery to see if she could get some of the article written at one of the tables. Sometimes the white noise of customers coming and going could prove to be helpful. The way that words had to be pulled out like they were tree roots had begun to scare her a little bit. She had to get something down on paper and fix it later.

  She’d missed the breakfast rush at the bakery, and there were just a couple of people sitting at the tables inside. “Good morning,” Gen said. “More cinnamon rolls?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll have a small coffee.” Diana rifled through her change.

  Gen yawned and set it on the counter. “On the house.”

  “No, I’ll pay.”

  “Forget it.” Gen waved it off. The poor girl looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes.

  “Thanks. You looked tired,” Diana said as she stirred the creamer in her coffee. “Baker’s hours must be tough.”

  “It’s not that. I’m used to getting up early, but I’m not getting enough sleep at night.”

  “Why not?”

  Gen blushed a little, and Diana had her answer before Gen spoke it out loud. “Wallace.”

  “You’re losing sleep for the happy reasons.”

  “That’s true.” Gen smiled.

  “I can’t help you.” Diana returned the smile and took her coffee to a table nearby.

  She lined up her coffee cup to the right and turned on her Alphasmart. Found the file. Stared at it. Then she moved the coffee to the other side, lining it up perfectly, and watched as the doorbell jingled and a couple left the bakery.

  Words. She needed some. The right words, not just any words. Just for fun and so that it would appear she was doing something writerly, Diana wrote every adverb she could think of. Then she alphabetized them.

  Which really wasn’t helping much with this article.

  She pulled out her interview notes. Benny and his wife were salt of the earth people with their legacy to foster children. She could go with them, but did she want to go in a benevolent direction with her article? Face it, the calendar was something women would buy to drool over. Maybe the article should reflect it. But the men they’d be drooling over the most were the ones who weren’t talking. Like Scott. She read over what she’d written the night she’d interviewed him.

  Won’t talk about himself. Might have deep seeded personal issues.

  Seriously. Had she really written that about Scott? Wrong. He didn’t talk about himself because he didn’t like the attention. She got it now. Got it the day he’d pulled his shirt off, or more like made her pull his shirt off. The memory of all that muscle, and the scarring he didn’t want anyone to see because he didn’t believe he was a hero—yeah, she had to stop thinking about him.

  Diana glanced down at what she’d typed so far: The firefighters of Starlight Hill. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  “You all right, Sugar?” Gen asked.

  “Oh, perfect.”

  The doorbell jingled again, and Diana looked up to see Julie walk in, holding a giant mug that said ‘Feed Me.’

  “Fill ‘er up,” Julie said to Gen, then waved to Diana and walked over to her table. “Hey. Working on the article?”

  “Yep,” Diana said. Always working on this thing because unfortunately it wasn’t going to write itself. Though she still occasionally had high hopes. “Do you have time to chat for a few minutes now?”

  “For my interview? All right, why not?” She sat down across from Diana. “I usually run six miles every Sunday, then treat myself to a mocha latte at Gen’s.”

  “Six miles?”

  “Are you going to write that down?” Julie leaned over.

  “No, but that’s pretty impressive. I could barely make it around the high school track four times.”

  “Yep. That’s a mile.”

  “Then why did it feel like ten?”

  “Believe me, it was the same for me when I first started running.”

  Somehow Diana doubted it. Julie looked like she’d hit the ground running. Maybe even in utero. “So. Have you always wanted to be a firefighter?”

  “We’re getting right to it? Okay, well I didn’t always want to be a firefighter. First I wanted to be a nurse. And my family wanted me to be a nurse. They weren’t crazy about it when I decided to be a firefighter.”

  Diana understood that all too well. She still remembered the crimson red color on her father’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want to go to law school but instead wanted to be a writer. Later that week her stepmother had called to inform her that dad had developed high blood pressure. Probably also her fault.

  “They thought you’d make more money as a nurse?” Diana asked.

  “I thought so at first, but it turned out they were afraid I would get hurt. Now they’re so proud of me it’s embarrassing.” Julie held up her fingers in air quotes. “First female firefighter in Starlight Hill history.”

  “They’re proud of you,” Diana said. Must be nice.

  What would she have to do to make her parents proud? For Dad, she’d have to become a lawyer. For Mom, she’d have to marry one. Actually, Mom wasn’t too picky. Anyone with a pulse would do.

  Julie shrugged. “I think it’s a little stupid it took this long to have a female firefighter, but yeah. They’re proud.”

  “What’s the best thing about being the only woman among all these men?”

  “It’s like living in a frat house sometimes. I’ll spend up to four days and nights with these guys. The girlfriends get jealous because they can’t believe no one’s hooking up. Believe me, there’s none of that! I’d say the best thing is also the worst thing: I’m just one of the guys.”

  That could be difficult given the range of hotness Diana had seen firsthand at the calendar shoot. “I hear you. That must be tough.”

  “Rookie is a hunk but he’s young. And face it, Ty scares me a little. But Scott—” Julie smiled an
d shook her head. “I can see the attraction. I dated him in high school.”

  “You did?” Along with everyone else, Diana would have to guess.

  “For about a nanosecond when I was eighteen. Scott’s a good guy. He even broke up with me without hurting my feelings. Honestly? You two make a cute couple.”

  “Scott and I are just friends,” Diana said.

  “Really?” Julie winked. “Would you like it to be more than that?”

  “Hold on.” Diana held up her hand. “Who’s interviewing who?”

  “Sorry. I forget that you don’t know everyone in town has been trying to fix Scott up for the past year.”

  “To who?”

  “That depends on who you talk to. Everyone has an opinion and in a town this size, they’re not shy about sharing them.”

  Diana hated that she was interested in this subject. She should get back to Julie, even if she had run out of questions and even if she couldn’t stop thinking about Scott’s abs. “Who’s the front runner?” Diana pretended to make a note.

  “A lot of people think he should marry Brenda O’Neal because she’s pretty enough, plus she’s got those big child bearing hips.”

  “Child…child bearing hips?”

  “Face it, Scott’s a big guy. What is he? Six one? Six three? Figure his babies are going to be big, you know?” She made a face, like she was picturing shoving one of them out of her non-existent hips.

  “I can see they’ve thought of everything.” Diana held her pen a little too tightly and wrote in the column of her yellow pad:

  Town as a cohesive unit is one can shy of a six pack.

  Mom would fit right into this town like the missing puzzle corner piece. Maybe she could just open up shop and start talking people into marriage just so she could sell them the wedding dress. Sounded like a business plan Mom would appreciate.

  “How does Scott feel about this?” She should stop asking about Scott, but she felt a sudden wild kinship with him. Maybe she’d been in denial so long with Bradley because she didn’t want to let Mom down. As long as Diana had been engaged, Mom could expect that eventually there would be a wedding.

  “He hates it. You know, sometimes I think he’s so anti-settling down just because it’s everyone else’s idea and not his own. What do you think?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “But if you did. Care, I mean.”

  “If I cared?” Diana put her pen down. “I would say that pushing someone into marriage is about the worst thing anyone can do. People should get married because they can’t bear the thought of not being married to each other. Not because there’s some kind of arbitrary deadline they’ve got to meet.”

  “Wow. That’s almost exactly what Scott said. Only he used a little more…colorful language.”

  Diana smiled. “I bet he did. But why do people want to fix Scott up? Why not Ty? Or one of the others?”

  “Because he’s the youngest of the Turlock brothers. Three brothers, all tall dark and gorgeous. Now the two oldest are married. One with a baby on the way. Time for Scott to grow up and settle down. And the night Scott rescued you? You became the front runner.”

  “Me?” She’d been trying hard to forget that humiliating night. It had all been bad enough without the video.

  “Hey, I was there. I’m definitely Team Diana all the way.”

  Diana froze. “Team Diana?”

  Julie’s eyes shifted noticeably, and had sudden interest in Diana’s Alphasmart. “I’ve seen these before. Throw backs, huh? But we should really get back to me. Shouldn’t we? I didn’t mean to get us off track like this.”

  Nice deflection. “What do you mean by ‘Team Diana’?”

  Her fingers strummed the table. “The fire academy was tough, I won’t lie. You have to carry about seventy-five pounds of weight up a flight of stairs. But—”

  “Julie!”

  “All right.” Julie threw up her hands in the air. “To be fair, these little games liven up life in a dull town sometimes. I’m in the pool at work. And also the one down at Rosie’s.”

  Diana didn’t know where to begin. What pool? “Rosie’s?”

  “Oh, owner of the only hair salon in town. The Curl Up and Dye. My hairdresser, Kailey, is your biggest fan.”

  Fans? She had fans? “I…I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Julie’s face turned a shade of pink. “We’ve got it narrowed down to three. Three women that we all think would make Scott a great girlfriend. Team Brenda, which at last count was way ahead in the polls, Team Diana in second place and Team Fallon dead last. Mostly because Fallon keeps saying she’s not in it to win it. She and Scott are just friends, she says. I don’t think anyone believes her, but I do. Pretty sure she’s also Team Diana.”

  “This is nuts.” Except that nuts wasn’t a big enough word for it.

  “It’s just for fun. No one really believes they’re going to get to choose. I mean, if it worked out, that would be cool. But it’s not like he’s going to do what we say. Right?”

  “I’m guessing I made the list because of the rescue.”

  “It was pretty romantic to watch,” Julie said with a sigh. “Scott just had you in his arms like he was carrying out his lover and not a complete stranger. I love a good romance.”

  Romance, i.e. fantasy. Diana understood the need to believe in romantic stories, and in happily ever after. She had too, for six long years with Bradley, unable to see that dedication and loyalty were sometimes another way of avoiding the inevitable. Just because you wanted something, were willing to work hard for it, didn’t mean it would happen. “But this is real life. Damn I wish I hadn’t picked that night to wear lingerie.”

  “You looked great. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

  It didn’t seem like the proper time to mention that she wasn’t flaunting anything. Diana took a breath and changed the subject. “Speaking of flaunting it, what are your thoughts on the calendar?”

  “I’ll be buying my copy. For years, men have had their girlie calendars hanging in garages all across America. Now it’s our turn. I just hope women excuse the February model. She doesn’t have a set of balls to go along with her abs.”

  “Maybe we’ll get some men to buy the calendar too.”

  Julie gave a wide grin. “Think so? Hey, maybe I’ll get a date out of this.”

  Diana and Julie talked for a few more minutes, but when Julie had to leave, Diana chose to walk to the market. She’d been fed a steady diet of comfort foods since her arrival at Gran’s and other than the nights she’d retreated to her bedroom starving, there had been no in-between. Maybe it was time to find the happy medium between a tomato and fried chicken. She picked out fresh zucchini, squash, broccoli and boneless chicken breast. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she could perform a Google search as well as the next person.

  When she carried her bag outside, it nearly slipped out of her hands at the sight of Scott standing near his truck. He wore jeans falling tantalizingly low around his hips and that ever present t-shirt, cotton straining tight around his biceps and defining his broad shoulders. He was talking to a pretty blonde woman, who grabbed his shoulders, then threw back her head and laughed. Flirting. Obviously. Brenda? Before Diana even realized what she was doing, she’d stepped back inside the air conditioned market, nearly running right into a customer on his way out.

  “Hey! Watch it,” the man said, then blinked. “Oh, it’s you.”

  She didn’t know the man, but he’d obviously seen her in all her glory on the Internet. “Um, hi.”

  He cocked his head. “Huh. You look different in person.”

  “Thanks?” She stepped out of the man’s way, who seemed more irritated than anything else as he walked past her.

  “Have a nice day!” he called out, shocking her.

  Good. Maybe the video noise was already dying down. People would forget. They would move on. Diana tried walking back out again, and this time both Scott, the pretty woman, and hi
s truck were gone.

  Team Diana.

  She could almost hear an announcer’s booming voice: ‘Diana, this is your mission should you choose to accept it. Do you want the guy or don’t you? If so, lie down now and give me fifty push-ups! C’mon, girl! Don’t you know the meaning of competition?’

  No. She didn’t. In fact, she sucked at competition. The only person she’d ever been in competition with was herself. That’s why it had been so easy for Tiffany to swoop in and show Bradley that she was better for him than Diana. Tiffany was also a software engineer and had a lot in common with Bradley. Not to mention she was thinner. Prettier. Successful.

  If Diana wanted real change to come she’d have to step out of her comfort zone. She didn’t know why breaking out of her comfort zone brought about a vivid image of Scott—eyes smiling, every inch of his hard and able body screaming headboard banging sex. It would seem that he’d overcome the prior bad boy image of his youth. He’d gone from boy to man and become the kind of person anyone could rely on. The question of the hour was whether or not she should rely on him. She already had, in many ways. He’d saved her life. But for someone who had literally saved her, he had a way of frightening her too. Maybe because he was too good at making her feel out of control, and control over her feelings was the last real thing she had left.

  He’d made it clear he was interested in her. For now. Not like she hadn’t been in this place before, with a guy who wanted what he couldn’t have. It would hurt too much to be cast aside again, forgotten. Dad. Bradley.

  And Scott had already managed to forget all about her once before.

  The odds seemed stacked in favor of it happening all over again.

  11

  Diana couldn’t get a simple one thousand word article written. How was she supposed to help Mrs. St. Michaels throw together a book about tenants from hell? Not going to happen. But she still had an article to write and a looming deadline, so while Gran was at bingo with Pop the following Saturday, Diana set her Alphasmart on the kitchen table.

  Again, she seemed stuck in a staring contest with file number two. She tried several times, but no words would come. Stuck. Again. Mandy had not-so-helpfully analyzed and over-analyzed Diana’s so-called writer’s block. Supposedly, Diana was so afraid to fail that she couldn’t get a word down on paper. It was, Mandy reasoned, safer not to try than to try and fail. But Diana had to kick fear in the balls. Then she had to find her balls. She had to plunge head-first into this blank page, which she could always fix later. This was truth on a fundamental level, and yet still no words would come.