She stared at him. “Then what am I going to...” She spun to face the sleek, white Mercedes convertible. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew that one cost a lot. Maybe as much as their house.
“No way.”
He shrugged. “It’s insured. You’ll be fine. Do you have your temporary license?”
“Let me get it.”
She raced inside and dug her wristlet out of her backpack, then hurried back outside. Lucas stood by his car, the driver’s door open.
“The car’s not going to drive itself,” he called.
Excitement and hope fluttered in her stomach. If Lucas would really help her get her hours, then she wouldn’t have to depend on her dad or bug her mom. She vowed to do the best she could on their mini lesson so he would want to teach her more.
She joined him and got in the driver’s side. He sat next to her and explained how to set the seat and the mirrors.
“The car sits really low to the ground,” he told her. “It’s going to feel different than your mom’s SUV or your dad’s sedan. Also, it has a more powerful engine, so be careful when you hit the gas.”
She nodded, then wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans.
“Drive to the high school. Classes are out and there will be plenty of room to practice in the parking lot.” He winked. “Okay, start her up.”
She absolutely could not believe he was going to let her drive his car. Her mother had practically had a seizure the only time they’d practiced together.
She pushed the start button, then tried not to jump as the engine roared to life. She kept her foot on the brake as she shifted to Drive, then checked the mirrors four times before slowly pulling out onto the quiet street.
Mischief Bay High School was less than a mile away, but it took Becca nearly ten minutes to drive there. She stayed well under the twenty-five mile per hour speed limit and came to a full, lingering stop at every sign. By the time she pulled into the parking lot, she felt a little sick to her stomach.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted.
“Are you scared about driving or the car?” Lucas asked.
“Both.”
“Driving gets easier with practice. Right now you have to think about everything you’re doing. Once a few things become automatic, you’ll be more comfortable. As for my car, like I said, it’s insured. Okay, let’s start with the basics. Drive to the end of the parking lot, do a three-point turn, drive back and pull into that parking space.”
Becca tasted bile. “That’s your idea of the basics?”
He flashed her a grin. “I’ve seen Clueless, kid. At least we’re not going on the freeway.”
“I’m never going on the freeway.”
Thirty minutes later, Becca confidently circled the parking lot, making neat figure eights. She made a sharp turn ten feet in front of the flagpole and carefully backed into a parking space before turning to Lucas and laughing.
“I did it.”
“You did good. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. This car is great. It drives so easily and I’m in love with the backup camera. Thank you for helping me. I really had fun.”
“Me, too. Want to continue with the lessons?”
“Of course.”
Lucas had been calm the whole time. When she’d messed up, he’d had her stop so they could talk about what had gone wrong. She was still nervous about driving, but less so than she had been.
“I’ll talk to your mom,” he said. “If she agrees, then we’ll keep going. Oh, how are your grades?”
Becca felt herself flush. “They’re, um, okay.”
He looked at her without speaking.
She ducked her head. “I’m getting a couple of Cs and a few Bs.”
“I thought you were a good student.”
“I am.” Or she had been. Lately she hadn’t been that interested in school. What was the point? No one paid attention or cared how she was doing.
“I know you’re smart,” Lucas told her. “Something’s going on. If you want me to help you get your driving hours, you’re going to have to get your grades where they should be. A car is a lot of responsibility. If you can’t be bothered to take care of business at school, then you can’t be trusted with a car.”
No one had talked to her like that in forever. Becca was both thrilled and annoyed, which felt really good.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she said automatically.
“In this case, I am. It’s my time so it’s my rules. If you want my help, then you will get Bs or better in all your classes.”
“No problem.”
“I want proof.”
“What? You don’t trust me?”
“There’s an old saying. Trust but verify. From now until you get your license, you will show me all your test scores. Understood?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Good. Now let’s go home.”
Becca made the return trip in half the time. She stayed at the speed limit, stopped at the stop signs for a quick count of one-two, then pulled up in front of her house just as her mom drove into the driveway.
They all got out at the same time. Harper turned toward them, then nearly dropped her purse. “What are you doing? Did you drive that car? You didn’t. Oh my God! Becca, no. Do you know what a car like that costs? Lucas, I swear, what were you thinking? No one asked me. Where’s your father? Weren’t you supposed to be practicing with him? I feel sick.”
Lucas shook his head. “She gets real wound up.”
“She does. I worry about her.”
“You should.” Lucas walked toward the SUV. “It’s fine, Harper. Terence couldn’t make it so I took Becca out for a practice session. Everything was fine and if it’s all right with you, I’m going to help her get in her practice hours.”
“Not in that car. There is absolutely no way.”
“I have insurance.”
“And a deductible!”
She started to say something else, but her phone rang. She touched her Bluetooth earpiece and said brightly, “This is Harper.”
Becca sighed. There was no talking to her mother now. Not when she was on with a client—and she was always on with a client.
Chapter Six
HARPER POURED ANOTHER cup of coffee. It was only seven in the morning and she was already exhausted. Of course a lot of that could be because she hadn’t slept much the previous night. She’d been up finishing the gift bags. Honest to God, she needed to grow a pair and stand up to that woman.
“Mom, we have to talk about my driving lessons.”
Harper drank more coffee as she turned to look at her daughter. Becca sat at the table, a faithful Jazz at her side. The dog had sure figured out who loved her the most. If Becca was home, Jazz was right there with her.
Driving! How was that possible? Becca was supposed to still be seven. Only she wasn’t. She was turning seventeen in the summer and talking about college. Harper swore silently. Her daughter was going to be heading off to college in less than eighteen months and she was making what, two dollars an hour on stupid gift bags?
The weight of failure threatened to make her topple over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to have it all together. Had going into business for herself been a mistake? She didn’t think so, but if it wasn’t the job, then she was the problem and she sure didn’t want to hear that.
“Mom?”
Harper did her best to keep her tone even. “I know we do, honey. And we will. This weekend, okay? We’ll sit down and come up with a plan.”
Her daughter sighed. “Sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“You always say we’ll talk about something, but then we never do. You’re too busy with work.”
Harper didn’t like the sound of that. “
I don’t. We will talk this weekend. You’ll see.”
Before she could think of a more convincing argument, the back door opened and Bunny walked in. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup in place and her clothes looked freshly laundered.
Harper was instantly aware of the fact that she hadn’t showered in maybe two days and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on makeup. She’d always worn her wavy hair in layers, but who had the time or money for that kind of maintenance? Lately she’d taken to simply pulling her hair back in a ponytail, which looked great on her beautiful sister but made her look like what she was—a woman of a certain age who had obviously given up.
“Morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could.
“Morning.” Her mother smiled at Becca, then frowned. “What are you eating?”
“Cereal.”
Harper reached for more coffee.
“Cereal?” Bunny shrieked. “Where’s your hot breakfast?” She turned to her daughter. “Harper Wray Szymanski, what is wrong with you? Your only child deserves a hot breakfast. As her mother, it’s the least you can do.”
“Grandma, cereal is fine. It’s a nice change.”
Bunny ignored that. “What’s next? Store-bought cookies? Fast food for dinner? Taking care of your family is your most important job.”
“You’re right, Mom,” Harper snapped. “Right now that means keeping food on the table. To pay for that, I have to work, so forgive me if I don’t have time to make waffles from scratch every single morning.”
“I always found the time.”
“You didn’t have a job.”
Becca quickly finished her cereal, then put the bowl on the floor for Jazz to lap up the milk. When the dog was done, she set the bowl in the sink and escaped. Harper wished she could run off with her.
“I didn’t have a job because I managed to keep my husband happy,” Bunny said in a huff. “Perhaps if you’d treated Terence a little better, he wouldn’t have left.”
The low blow connected right in her stomach.
“Mom, you don’t know anything about what went wrong in my marriage. It’s my business and you don’t have the right to judge me.”
“I’m not. I’m simply pointing out that if you—”
Harper’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it gratefully. “Mom, this is a client.”
“But it’s barely seven.”
“Yes, I know.” She pushed the button to accept the call. “This is Harper.”
“It’s Cathy. How are the bags coming?”
“They’ll be ready on time.” No way Harper was going to tell her they were already finished. Cathy would assume Harper had been exaggerating the time needed. Explaining she’d literally stayed up all night to finish them wouldn’t help, either.
“I’m glad to hear that. I have another job for you.”
“I was talking to you,” Bunny said between clenched teeth. “Tell her you’ll call her back.”
Harper turned her back on her mother, something she knew she was going to pay for. And speaking of paying. “Cathy, I’m happy to talk to you about more work, but I want to be clear. My rate is twenty-five dollars an hour, plus the cost of supplies. That is the price.”
“That’s ridiculous. My clients aren’t going to pay that.”
“Then I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”
“But you’ve always been willing to drop your price for me.” Her voice became softer. “Harper, I know you need the work. I’m doing you a favor.”
“What I need are jobs that pay me a reasonable amount. It’s your call, Cathy. I won’t be negotiating any more discounts.”
“That is totally unacceptable. Goodbye, Harper.” The phone went dead.
Harper turned back to her mother. Bunny raised her eyebrows. “With an attitude like that, it’s surprising you have any clients. Twenty-five dollars an hour for what you do? That’s ridiculous.”
“Thanks for the support, Mom.”
“What? I’m being honest.”
“Right now I would rather you weren’t. That’s me being honest.”
Before she could say any more, she heard a quick knock on the front door, then Thor raced into the house followed by Lucas calling out, “It’s me.”
The hundred-and-ten-pound dog bounced up to Harper and woofed. Jazz joined him and they greeted each other with a quick sniff before tearing off into the living room. Lucas appeared with Persimmon at his side.
“Good morning,” the young woman said, sounding way too cheerful. “Thor and Jazz are so sweet together. Hi, Harper. Hi, Bunny.”
The gorgeous redhead wore a cute little dress and heels, which only made Harper feel even more frumpy and tired. Lucas walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“There’s no hot breakfast,” Bunny announced. “Harper has more important things to do with her time.” She looked at Lucas. “Would you like me to make you an omelet? I’m sure there’s something in the refrigerator, unless my daughter has stopped going to the grocery store.”
Lucas shot Harper a look. She wasn’t sure if it was questioning, filled with pity or both. Regardless, she waved him toward the table, figuring Persimmon would join him. While Bunny was distracted, Harper escaped to her small office. She would hide out there until everyone was gone. Maybe then she could get a couple of hours of sleep.
Her phone rang again. She put in her earpiece, then hit the button.
“This is Harper.”
“It’s Misty. Is it too early? I’m sorry to be calling, but I had to tell you.”
Her comedian client sounded breathless, but in a happy way.
“It’s not too early. What’s up?”
“You aren’t going to believe it. I don’t believe it. Oh, Harper, I’m going to be on an HBO special! It’s called Rising Stars or something like that. I can’t remember because I’m still in shock. It’s taping in a few weeks and then I’m going on tour.”
“Misty, that’s so fabulous. Congratulations. You’ve worked hard for this big break. How can I help?”
“I want new T-shirts. Something fun. Oh, and let’s be wild and get the ones that are the nicer material.”
Harper was already taking notes. “I’ll call the vendor as soon as we hang up and have her rush us samples. How many do you think you want?” Because there were price breaks at different levels.
“Let me think about that and get back to you. Once the special airs, I should be able to sell more. Oh, and I need to get you the tour info so you can ship me the T-shirts as I go.”
“And care packages?” Harper asked.
“Please. They save me.”
When Misty went on the road, she was gone for several weeks at a time. Harper shipped her snacks and toiletries so Misty didn’t have to worry about any of that. She also shipped T-shirts to each hotel, saving Misty from having to haul them from town to town.
Harper continued to make notes. “I’m so happy for you. This is the best news I’ve had all week.”
“I’m so excited. Thanks, Harper. I can relax knowing you’re going to handle things for me.”
“Absolutely. My job is to make your life easier.”
Which was true. Now if only someone would do that for her.
* * *
Stacey came to a stop at the corner. Bay did the same, then sat down, her shoulders and right ear lined up with Stacey’s leg.
“Good girl,” Stacey told the dog, then lightly petted her head.
The instruction manual that had accompanied the dog had been impressive, as was the list of commands Bay had mastered. There were the usual come, sit, along with some interesting specialized commands. Bay could distinguish between different types of weapons and toxic gases. She was also comfor
table working aboard a ship. Stacey didn’t know if that meant cargo or military. The notes had ended midsentence, as if the remaining information had simply been ripped away.
No doubt it was classified, Stacey thought as they crossed the street.
Bay had settled easily into their home. She ate well and was perfectly friendly. Whatever training she’d been given was more about purpose than affecting her personality. Not that Stacey was surprised. She’d only met Great-Aunt Cheryl once but the woman had been a sensible sort. Not someone to leave dangerous animals to a sixteen-year-old.
Kit had taken Bay to the vet the previous Monday to confirm her pregnancy and get an approximate due date. The dog had been pronounced healthy. Per the records, Bay had given birth before, so the vet had been confident the dog would know what to do. Her records indicated she was up-to-date on all her vaccinations.
Stacey had already started researching the canine birthing process so she could be ready when the time came. Although it was very likely that Bay would have her puppies while Stacey was at work. Still, being prepared was always preferable.
She and Bay reached the corner drugstore that doubled as an Amazon drop box. She loosely tied the dog’s leash to the bike rack, then had her sit.
“Bay,” she said in a firm voice. The dog immediately met her gaze. “Bay, stay.” She paused. “No strangers.”
The dog’s nostrils flared slightly, but otherwise she didn’t move. According to the book, Bay would stay where she was told for at least two days. None of the dogs had been tested beyond that. In addition, the “no strangers” command meant she wouldn’t leave with anyone else. Should someone try, Bay would immediately start barking to alert Stacey.
“I won’t be very long,” she added, not sure Bay could understand her. Still, it was polite to let her know.
She walked into the drugstore and went to the back, where several dozen lockers of various sizes stood along one wall. After scanning the barcode on the email she’d received, she punched in the code and a locker opened. She retrieved the box.
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