Allie stood on the other side of her stepmom but a little apart from everyone else. She looked awkward, with an almost uncertain smile, as if she’d rather be anywhere but in that photo. She looked a lot closer to the girl he remembered in high school than the woman she was now—young, sad, and desperately in need of a hug. And suddenly, he wished he’d known her back then, so he could have given her one. He shook his head, silently lamenting the lack of time-travel and the obliviousness of teenaged boys, and headed into the great room to join the party.
A huge wooden table divided the large, rectangular room from the kitchen on one end and family room in the rest of the space. The sliding glass doors behind the table were open and led out onto a patterned brick patio where guests lounged in chairs and dozens of kids ran around on the expansive lawn. A tall, gangly young man in a dark suit stood next to an older couple, and they were surrounded by a number of people glowing as they talked to him. Sam assumed this must be the recently returned Elder Jared and his parents. Sam was going to pass on going out there, if he could help it.
Allie was at the kitchen counter, deep in conversation with Laney. She glanced up for a moment to catch his eye and then resumed her conversation. Since he also planned on staying clear of the sister, he stopped at the table to check out the spread. He spied at least four Jell-O molds, the state’s unofficial main dish. Guess he was going to have to do a taste-test, just so he’d know what was under each whipped cream-covered delight.
He grabbed a plate and plopped down several healthy scoops. Okay, well the green Jell-O had shredded carrots and pineapple. Yum. The red had mandarin oranges and marshmallows. Even better. He bypassed the one with the pretzels smashed on top and tried the one with layers of purple and cream. Hmmm. Not bad, although the blueberry pie filling was probably going to send him into sugar shock.
“I’m warning you now that most of the entrees on this table have a carb value triple that of a Twinkie.” He looked up to find Allie next to him. “But the blueberry dish goes fast, so if you want more, get it now. It’s Laney’s—not that you’ll see her take a bite.”
She said this with some frustration, and he glanced over at her sister, immediately understanding. Laney looked like a scarecrow. A skinny one.
“Now that you’ve loaded up on carbs and seen the place, you probably want to get going,” Allie prodded pointedly. “I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Not at all.” He grinned and spooned another bite of the blueberry dessert into his mouth.
“You are so dead,” she muttered under her breath.
“In my day, a man would have served the woman first,” sniffed an elderly woman he placed somewhere around a hundred and fifty. She stepped forcefully between Allie and him. “Then again, knowing Allie’s history, it’s probably best she watch what she eats.”
Stunned by the woman’s words almost as much as her appearance, Sam peered into the woman’s sharp brown eyes. She was a little frightening. A large, poufy black wig was perched on top of her head, but it had slid down to rest on her penciled-in brows in an unnatural and unsettling way. Bright white tennis shoes adorned her cloven hooves, and equally glaring-white nylon knee-highs were pulled high up under the hem of her green crop-pants so any view of actual skin was completely obscured.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded, the deep, entrenched wrinkles around her mouth pursed in a frown. “Is this a fellow of yours, Allie? You’d think he’d have the decency of at least wearing pants. But I guess beggars can’t be choosers. Does he know you’re divorced?”
He watched Allie flinch but ignore the comments as she introduced him to Ethel, Peg’s mother, explaining vaguely how he was a teacher friend from school.
Ethel eyed him with suspicion. “Italian?”
He shrugged. “Only on my parents’ side.”
She didn’t get his joke and turned her attention to the table in front of her and the level of food she could pile on her plate. When she was done, she looked him over again with a grunt, then hobbled outside. In a frightening tone, Ethel hollered to a young boy who happened to be walking by, demanding he hold her plate while she sat down.
“Okay, would you think less of me if I told you she scared me, just a little?” Before Allie could respond—or burst out laughing—another woman approached.
“I’m so glad you decided to stay,” Allie’s stepmom gushed. As if he’d been given a choice. “Now maybe we can be properly introduced. You work with Allie at the school, correct? I don’t recall getting your name…?”
“Sam Fratto. I’m working at the school through the end of the school year.”
Peg seemed perplexed and stared at him, obviously trying to place his name. He could tell the moment she did, as her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned into a downward frown mirroring Ethel’s. She glanced furiously over at Allie, waiting for an explanation.
“Remember how I was telling you about Mr. Carter’s retirement and the extra classes I had to pick up until we could find a replacement?” Allie spoke rapidly. But her haste only appeared to make her stepmother more impatient. “Well, Sam has stepped up to the plate, and I’m finally getting back to my old routine. He’s been a life saver—”
“I recall you mentioning something about that,” Peg cut in and turned the full force of her disdain on Sam. “Mr. Fratto, I must say I’m terribly surprised to find you returning to Utah. From the negative comments peppering your last book, I would have thought the prospect of being surrounded by such an…uncouth culture…would be distasteful.”
Allie squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to be counting to herself.
“You’ve read my book, then?” he asked in as friendly a tone as he could manage. “I’ll admit that’s always exciting to hear. I don’t run into that many people who recognize me or my work.”
“Well, I’ve read a few snippets here and there,” she backpedaled. He was certain she hadn’t read more than a few phrases, probably highlighted or quoted by her friends. “I found it all rather grisly for my tastes.”
“You really should read the whole thing. Taken out of context, some of the verbiage can be alarming, but I assure you, no harm was intended. Well, other than to explain why Mr. Haggarty took the life of his sister-in-law and her children. In any case, I’d be happy to send you an autographed copy.”
Peg pinned a tight smile to her face. “That would be…generous. But you should keep all the copies you have. I’m sure they’re worth something…somewhere.”
“Laney was just telling me who you are, young man,” said another gravelly female voice. Hell. It was Ethel again, butting back in between him and Allie. “You have a lot of nerve to come here among good people, people you’re planning to take advantage of, I’m certain.”
He tried not to stare at the dab of yellow cream at the corner of her mouth. “Not at all, ma’am.”
“Allie, where’s your sense, girl? Why would you bring this writer fellow with you?”
“It’s okay, Mother. I asked Allie to invite him,” Peg interceded, then glared at him. “Although, he was just explaining to me how he needed to leave. Isn’t that right Mr. Fratto?”
…
The air crackled with tension.
Even though on some level Allie had expected this reception once people knew Sam’s identity, seeing it in action was another humiliating experience altogether. He was probably taking mental notes of everything, so he could put it all in his next book about the hypocrites of Salt Lake.
Even so. This was ridiculous. Sam was here as her guest, her friend. Flay her as they will—God knew she was used to it. But they couldn’t treat her guest like this. Where were the damn manners?
“I’m sorry, Ethel, if I didn’t offer you a full introduction,” she said as sweetly as she could without oozing honey. “Sam joined the faculty to help us out through the rest of the school year, until we could permanently fill the position. I doubt any of our surrounding high schools could boast a New York Times bestselling author as a teac
her.”
Ethel sputtered and opened her mouth.
But before she could get a word out, Allie continued. “And being as modest as he is, Sam hasn’t regaled you with tales of our narrow escape from death last night from a fire at the school. His quick thinking and actions literally saved my life.” She made a show of grabbing his arm and looking up at him with gratitude. “Now. If there aren’t any more questions, I think I’ll show Sam the lovely gardens out back. Maybe we’ll catch up with you later.”
She kept her grip on his arm and dragged him outside, stopping along the way to forcibly take his plate and deposit it on a table. There was a slight quirk in his lips when she glanced up at him. Careful to skirt around the group at the center of the patio, she pulled him over to the corner. Once she felt they were free from prying eyes, she turned to face him.
“I bet you’re wishing about now you’d dropped me off in front of the house like I suggested, huh?” she said through her teeth.
“Actually, I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun at a family picnic. And that Ethel, such an…interesting…woman. I bet she’s the life of every party. You know, if you’re trying to terrify small children.”
Allie’s lips twitched in irritation. “Well, she has mellowed with age. Used to be, she’d terrify the adults, too.” Allie caught his eyes, deep green and sparkling with humor, and they both burst into laughter.
His gaze warmed, and she swallowed hard when she realized it had dropped to her mouth. For an insane moment, she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her, and suddenly, their laughter trailed off. She swallowed again. Hard.
Just then, one of the kids across the lawn screamed, “Tag!” and the moment—whatever it was—vanished.
“I’m sorry if they offended you,” she said, trying to regain her composure on all levels. “I knew that would happen. But there gets to be a point when they really just have to move on.”
“No offense taken. That was nothing compared to the hundreds of letters I’ve received criticizing me—or threatening me—for my comments. It doesn’t faze me anymore. But I am touched by your defense of my honor. I hope it won’t cause you much grief later.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m used to it. In fact—” She glanced around in annoyance. “I’ve put in my time. I’m guessing I won’t be missed if we leave. Want to get out of here?”
“I don’t know,” he dead-panned. “I still haven’t tried that Jell-O with the pretzels.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you the damn recipe.”
Chapter Seven
They were quiet on the return drive. With the radio playing an old Aerosmith song, it wasn’t too difficult for Allie’s thoughts to venture back to the moment when she’d first laid eyes on Sam Fratto her freshman year of high school.
Allie had been serving the first—and last—detention of her life with the air of a martyr, when Sam had walked in. And although his gaze had barely registered her presence as he scanned the room seeking his friends, she’d seen her future in those light hazel eyes.
After that day, and every day for the next two years, Sam was always on Allie’s radar. She’d know when he’d be at his locker or down in the lunch room hanging out with his friends so she could casually walk by. She even knew the make, model, and tag number of the car he drove every day to school—gray Pathfinder, LX, plate number 867 TBM. And it hadn’t been a coincidence that she had served on the newspaper staff her sophomore year. She’d applied at the end of freshman year after learning Sam was going to be continuing his stint as the paper’s photographer.
Can you say stalker?
She had come a long way since that overweight, insecure teenager with braces and poodle hair.
Her teeth were now straight and bleached white, her hair a lighter blond with a perfect combo of golden highlights—something she’d learned to apply herself over the past ten years since her teacher’s salary didn’t permit regular salon indulgences—and she owned three pairs of knee-high boots, the zippers of which she could slide up her calves with ease. No bulging there.
But was she still hung up on Sam Fratto?
She considered the past couple of days and how much she’d enjoyed his company, despite the bad footing they’d started off on. The comfort of his presence. The thrill she’d felt earlier today when she’d walked down her hallway after showering and saw the unmistakable moment when Sam had checked her out. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it, but damn, it had felt amazing while it lasted. And last, the heart-stopping moment when she thought he was actually going to kiss her.
Heck, yeah. She was totally hung up on him.
“How is it that you ended up at St. Andrew’s?” Sam asked, interrupting her stroll down memory lane. “After meeting your family, I’m struggling to see the connection, since they’re all so…not Catholic.”
She chuckled. “My mom. She was Catholic and, according to my dad, it was important to her I have that same grounding. After she died, he enrolled me at St. Mary’s elementary school—the same school Violet attends now. Molly also helped out, getting me to church every Sunday.” She recalled a few Sundays when Molly had been nursing a terrible headache—which she later learned was a symptom of something called a hangover—and instead they’d head for the Village Inn. Allie would order French toast with strawberries, heavy on the whipped cream, and Molly would sip coffee and chew on dry toast. “Well,” she added wryly, “most Sundays, anyhow.”
“I imagine that might have made things somewhat…awkward…in your household.” He stole a glance at her, a trace of a smile on his lips.
She laughed. “An understatement. I think when they were first married, Peg had envisioned bringing the two of us into the proverbial fold. But my dad can be fairly stubborn. By the time Laney came along, Peg had come to terms with his non-conformance.”
“Peg impressed me as a rather persistent woman. I’m sure it wasn’t easy on you. Especially with the pressure of fitting in.”
“It wasn’t too bad. At least, until Laney got old enough to notice. You should have seen Peg’s face the day she started begging to go to church with me and Molly. When Peg asked her why, she said because she’d only have to go for one hour instead of three, and she’d get juice and donuts.”
He delivered a rare, full grin. “The important stuff, in other words.”
“Eventually, I discovered I enjoyed going. Not just as a source of vexing Peg. It brought me closer to my mom. I was so young when she died. It became a comfort.”
The car got quiet again, until Sam pulled in front of her driveway. It was time for him to go, and for some reason, she felt oddly deflated at the prospect of having him leave.
When he sprang from the car and came over to open the door, she was surprised.
He scanned the neighborhood. “Want to make sure you get inside okay.”
How could she object? Especially when she really didn’t want to. Anything to prolong his stay.
She climbed out and headed to the door. She dug into her purse for the keys. Another minute ticked by, and she was still digging. They had to be in there somewhere…
“Darn. I think I left them inside. I’m not used to not having my car.” She jogged down the porch steps and carefully crossed some garden stones in the flower bed, aware of Sam’s gaze.
“Should we call someone?”
“No need. I keep a spare just in case, in Molly’s old hiding place. Where is it…? A-ha.” She found the ceramic tile with a cracked picture of a frog. She bent down, pried the stone up, and snagged the key. “Here we are.”
She unlocked the door, and he followed her in. Without asking, he took off down the hall and started checking all the rooms. He really took this protector thing seriously.
Who was she kidding? She loved it. Loved that he cared enough about her to do it.
When he returned, she was busy making a pot of coffee. She figured it was the least she could do. “Sam, I can’t begin to thank you for everything
you’ve done for me the past couple of days.” She poured the water into the well and measured the coffee beans.
“No worries. Like I said, my day was free today, anyhow. Besides,” he glanced over at her, an odd smile on his face, “I could always use new material for my next book.”
Certain he was kidding, she laughed. Maybe a little sheepishly, though, since she’d actually considered that very thing earlier. “That would be great, wouldn’t it? I’d buy everyone a copy for Christmas,” she said as she ground the beans for a few seconds, releasing their nutty aroma.
She dumped them in the coffee maker and pressed start, then ambled over to where he was standing at the table, staring at the four open boxes. She sighed. They certainly had turned into a disappointment.
“Sorry I couldn’t find anything on the tapes. You may want to check them again. I could have missed something.”
“Yeah. I think I will. Just in case.”
“I could stick around, if you’d like. Help you sort through some of the folders. There may be something I overlooked.”
She looked up, trying to gauge his sincerity. She knew she’d come a long way since high school, and, since she’d lost all that weight, there’d been more than a few men who had expressed interest in her. Men she’d quickly dismissed, since she had no interest in getting emotionally involved again for a very long time. Maybe when she reached Molly’s age… So it wasn’t as if she didn’t know she had some appeal to the opposite sex.
But enough to capture Sam’s interest to sift through all these boxes on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, just to find something she could use for her video project? Of that, she was more pessimistic.
“Well, at least until you’ve had some coffee.” She hesitated. “Why are you so interested in helping me, anyway? You haven’t seemed too interested in the project until now.”
He chuckled. “Have you forgotten what I do for a living? I’m a crime writer. The stuff that’s happened these past few days is right up my alley.”
You Again Page 8
