Josie Day Is Coming Home

by Lisa Plumley

  “Not yet, maybe. But I know you. You form attachments. You like to pretend you don’t, but you do.” Jenna glanced at the crumpled breakaway suit on the bed. “Being immune to zippers doesn’t make you immune to falling for someone special.”

  Luke was special. He was also talented and fun and he made her laugh. He was trustworthy. He believed in her. And okay, so sometimes Josie found herself gazing dreamily at him, imagining the two of them settling down at Blue Moon together with a pantry full of Ding Dongs and hundreds of long Sunday mornings they’d spend cuddling in bed.

  But that was silly. Luke wouldn’t cuddle. He’d throw her down and ravish her senseless.

  Hugging herself at the thought, Josie grinned. Then she gave herself a mental kick. Luke was temporary. That was it.

  “Har, har,” she said, snapping herself out of it. “Enough with the stripper jokes, okay?”

  “You and Luke together is a bad idea,” Jenna insisted. “What do you really know about this guy?”

  “Hmmm.” Josie pulled an elaborately thoughtful face. “Let’s see. I know he doesn’t hound me about ‘relationships’ with a capital don’t-go-there. Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

  Jenna rolled her eyes.

  “I know about Luke, okay?” Josie said. “I know all I need to know. He’s hot, he’s friendly, and he’s good with his hands.”

  “He’s Mr. Goodwrench, then.”

  “Actually, yeah. Kind of. He’s a motorcycle mechanic in his spare time.” Josie spied the impatient look on her sister’s face and relented. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “Mmmm-hmmm.”

  “Do you think that skeptical streak is hereditary? You might have passed it on to Emily and Hannah.”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  With another look at her sister’s serious face, Josie nodded. Reluctantly. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now, about these clothes….”

  Groaning, Josie gave up. Her sister nattered on, flinging polyester pantsuits and tied-at-the-collar blouses her way. The ugly pile and the dreary pile awaited her—but beyond them, so did her dance school dream. No matter what it took, she promised herself, she was going to get there.

  All she had to do was reinvent herself, hang on long enough to dispel those stripper rumors, and find some students. Once everyone saw what a wonderful teacher she was, her new life would be on its way.

  In the meantime, surely she could survive a wardrobe swap with her sister.

  “Hey,” Jenna said, an eager look in her eye. “Do you think I can borrow those rainbow wedgies?”

  “Why not?” Josie slipped them off and handed them over with a sigh of resignation. “I won’t need them. Not in Sensible City.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Dude. I think your dad’s weakening,” TJ said. “I think he’s about to give in.”

  Upstairs in his carriage house apartment, Luke frowned. “I don’t want to talk about my dad.”

  “But you could win back your inheritance. And your trust fund! Your dad was totally sucked in by the latest report I sent him.” TJ waved his most recently acquired spyathon swag—the state-of-the-art PDA Robert Donovan had equipped him with. “Totally sucked in.”

  Luke told himself he didn’t care. Not caring, he went on working on the Suzuki engine parts he’d carried upstairs to clean. Not caring, he squinted at the ESPN Classic basketball game on TV. Not caring—okay, maybe just a little bit—he stifled the instant, idiotic spark of hope TJ’s words had caused.

  He’d never been on the outs with his dad for this long. Sure, they’d had some hairy moments. Like the time Luke had been booted from his fifth boarding school (in a row) for staging indoor go-kart races. Or the time his dad had sent him to Europe during summer break to stay with some “cultured, civilized” friends of the family. Luke had returned with nothing but fond memories of a hickey-loving French girl and an increased mastery of metric-sized socket wrenches. Not exactly what his dad had had in mind.

  “Hey!” TJ bounced on the sofa like a six-foot toddler on a sugar high. “Don’t you want to know what I told him? Huh? Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “I told him you’ve been spending your nights with a telescope, looking for aliens!” TJ chortled. “Dude! You’re an alien-watching whack job.”

  “They’re out there,” Luke deadpanned, wiping motor oil from a piston. He replaced it on the newspaper he’d spread on the floor. “I’ve seen ‘em.”

  “See? I knew you’d be into it.” Enthusiastically, TJ went on. “Last week, I told him you were doing motorcycle stunts like Evel Knievel. Next week, you’re going to start eating paste and gibbering.”

  Luke shook his head. “Why don’t you just say I’m living in the local loony bin and be done with it?”

  “Good idea. Note to self.” TJ poked at his PDA with the stylus. He frowned. “Does nuthouse have one ‘t’ or two?”

  “Three.”

  “Oh. Cool.” He paused. “Hey. Is your aunt Tallulah as gullible as your dad? Because if she is, you could probably convince her she meant to give Josie a different estate all along, dude.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Luke had e-mailed Ambrose last week, using one of the patron-accessible computers at the Donovan’s Corner public library, asking him to look into another property for Tallulah to give Josie. He hadn’t heard from the attorney yet, but he was optimistic. Barb swore her boss checked his e-mail religiously. Still, it might be time for another tactic. A telegram? A shore-to-ship phone call?

  A thumping on the stairs made Luke glance toward the doorway. Josie appeared there an instant later, scowling at her shoes—a pair of clodhoppers unlike anything he’d ever seen on her. Her outfit met the same criteria. Her dress was like something a modesty-crazed nun would wear on laundry day.

  She propped her hands on her hips. Or in the general vicinity. Given those clothes, Luke couldn’t tell—she possessed about as much shape as the Michelin Man.

  “Luke, I have to go to town, and my car won’t start.”

  “Maybe you scared it, Sister Mary Burlap Bag.” He grinned, figuring this had to be a joke. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  Josie tilted her chin. “For your information, this is my new going-to-town wardrobe. It’s going to convince everyone that I’m responsible, respectable, and trustworthy.”

  “It’s going to convince them you got dressed in a mud pit.”

  “Very funny.”

  Examining her from head to toe, Luke couldn’t prevent a sinking feeling. “You can’t be serious. You look like…one of them!” He gestured toward town.

  “Let me get this straight,” Josie began.

  Uh-oh. She took a step forward, revealing her taut, slicked-back hair and her lack of false eyelashes. Damn it, he’d kind of grown to like them. They were so…her.

  “You think I look like a stuffy, prudish, small-town busybody? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Uhhh.” This had to be a trap. Another, more insidious version of the “do I look fat?” question. But Luke had never pulled his punches with Josie—except for that “I’m just the handyman” thing, which had gotten admittedly out of hand. He wasn’t going to start lying to her now. Anymore.

  Cautiously, he nodded.

  To his astonishment, she brightened. She also tried to bounce up with glee. Her clodhoppers held her down.

  “Yay! It’s working then.”

  “Working?”

  “To make me look dependable and reliable. Etcetera.”

  Luke wrinkled his brow doubtfully. “What was wrong with the way you looked before?”

  “According to my sister, everything. Plus she said I looked like Mary Ann, when I know I’m more Ginger than that.”

  Confused, Luke angled his head. Hmmm. From here it looked possible that she’d skipped shaving her legs, too. He couldn’t be certain. There were only a few inches of leg visible from mid-calf down.

  “I think you look very nice,” TJ offered.<
br />
  “Awww. Thanks, TJ. That’s sweet.”

  “Just like my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Kurzweiler.” TJ shook his head with a smile, obviously remembering. “She never let her hairy upper lip break her spirit.”

  “Ummm, that’s…good.” Brightly, Josie slung her suitcase-size purse over her shoulder. She glanced at the TV. “Hey! You’ve got cable in here.” She gave Luke an accusing look. “In the main house, all I get are local access channels.”

  “Your dad hooked us up with five-tier cable last week,” Luke told her. He’d been psyched to learn that Warren Day, hauler of donuts and admirer of motorcycles, was also an installer for Donovan’s Corner SuperCable. “I thought he wired the main house, too.”

  “No. I didn’t even know he was here.”

  Uh-oh.

  “He’s been stopping by a couple of times a week,” TJ volunteered, looking up from his Chee-tos. “Hanging out, messing with the cable, checking out Luke’s motorcycles. You know. Guy stuff.”

  Josie looked troubled. “He has?”

  Luke sent TJ a shut up look. Josie had enough to worry about without wondering why her father was ditching her.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it.” He touched her arm. “He probably meant to stop by to see you. He just ran out of time.”

  “Right.” Josie blinked, then stepped backward. She hated, he’d learned, being on the receiving end of sympathy. “So, about my car—can you fix it? It’s going klunk, klunk whenever I try the ignition.”

  “Sounds like a problem with the starter.” He wiped his hands on his shop rag, then got to his feet. “Tell you what. I’ll take you to town myself.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do today.” Josie bit her lip. To Luke’s disbelief, she pulled out a pocket calendar and riffled through the pages. “I’m going to help Jenna and the other PTSO moms serve snacks at Hannah’s school. You’ll be stuck waiting around for me.”

  “PTSO?” Luke cracked. “Tell me another one.”

  “Okay. After that, I’m applying for a business license and a chamber of commerce membership for my dance school. I figure it’ll lend me some much-needed legitimacy.”

  She was serious. Luke was speechless.

  But Josie wasn’t. “I’ve got a full schedule all week, now that the heavy-duty cleanup around here is done,” she continued matter-of-factly. “Tomorrow I’m going to network with local businesspeople at the library fundraiser. Sunday I’m going to church with my family—you’re both invited, of course. Next week I’m co-chairing a bake sale with Jenna’s friends.”

  “Bake sale? You’re the one who told me the ‘on’ light on the new oven meant it needed servicing.”

  Clearly undaunted, Josie nudged the toe of her clodhopper. She shrugged. “I’m telling you, Luke. By the end of the month, I’ll have this whole town eating out of the palm of my hand. Once everyone gets a load of the new me, my fab dance school will be as good as launched.”

  He frowned, concerned for the first time. “You’ve been painting without opening a window again, haven’t you? Getting giddy from the fumes?”

  She laughed. “Have a little faith, will you? I can do it. Although we do still have to talk about ordering the ballet barre and the mirrors and the sound system for the dance studio. I swear you’ve been dodging me about that.”

  He had been. None of those things would belong in Blue Moon when he auctioned it off.

  Luke shook off Josie’s reminder. I can do it, she’d said. Hell. He wasn’t worried she couldn’t. He was worried what it might cost her when she did. Donovan’s Corner had broken Josie’s spirit once already. He didn’t want to see that happen again.

  “All right. But I’m driving you.”

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted, picking up on his no-arguments demeanor. “Right away, sir.”

  Damn, she looked cute. That should have been impossible in her granny-goes-gallivanting getup, but somehow it wasn’t.

  You’re in love with the boss lady! echoed in his head.

  Steadfastly refusing to meet TJ’s eyes, Luke headed for the bedroom closet. “I’ll get you a spare helmet.”

  “Not one that’ll crush my hair!” she called.

  He glanced over his shoulder. As though primping, Josie put a hand to her hair—and encountered her drab ponytail. A glum expression crossed her face.

  “Never mind,” she said, sounding resigned. “Nothing less than an Aqua Net shortage could wreck this ‘do.”

  Her frown, paradoxically, gave Luke hope. So long as Josie felt discontent in her new clodhopper shoes, there was still a chance she’d return to her old rebellious self again—the self he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

  At Donovan’s Corner Elementary, Josie wended her way through the maze of desks, a box of cookies in one hand and a smile on her face. As far as she could tell, classrooms hadn’t changed much. The walls and cubbies were still decorated with colorful pictures. The scents of dry-erase markers, Elmer’s glue, and Crayolas still hung in the air. And somehow, it still felt as though adventure waited just around the corner.

  Or maybe that was Luke waiting around the corner. He’d refused to just drop her off and come back later. Instead, he’d commandeered a tiny chair near the Lego center. With his arms folded across his chest and his tattoos out in full force, he looked like her tough-guy bodyguard—although what dangers he expected her to encounter in Hannah’s kindergarten class, she didn’t know.

  “My name’s Josie.” She bent to place a bunny-shaped cookie on the next child’s desk, trying to ignore the sweep of her hideous dress against the floor. “What’s yours?”

  “Jenascia.”

  “Jenascia? That’s a very pretty name.”

  The girl giggled.

  “So, how’s kindergarten treating you, Jenascia? I used to like the pretend kitchen—I mean, home economics—area. Which is pretty ironic, since it’s been twenty years now and I haven’t quite learned how to cook yet. Unless you count Cup O’Noodles.”

  Another giggle. Josie’s heart melted. These kids were cute! Even the grubby-fingered boys and the girl who wore glasses that made her eyeballs look like ET’s. She smiled.

  “Enjoy that cookie,” she told Jenascia, then moved on.

  At the next desk, she set down a cookie. “Knock, knock.”

  The little redheaded boy looked up. “Who’s there?”

  “Isabel.”

  “Isabel who?” he yelled, delighted.

  “Isabel broken? ‘Cause I had to knock.”

  It took him a second, but he got it. His nose crinkled. His mouth opened in a completely unselfconscious laugh, showing tiny Chiclet teeth. “Hey! That’s a good one!”

  They both chortled. One of the mothers hustled over.

  “You’re only supposed to hand out the cookies,” she whispered, flustered. “Here. I’ll do the rest of these.”

  “Ummm, okay.”

  Her smile fading, Josie let the woman take the cookie box from her hand. She stepped backward to watch the other mother pass out the treats, feeling confused. Maybe she’d been too chatty? Too friendly? Too slow handing out the bunnies?

  But kindergarten was a place where a girl didn’t have to worry about settling down, staying in her seat, or paying too much attention to things like good behavior…wasn’t it? She looked to Jenna for confirmation.

  Her sister gave her a cheery thumbs-up sign.

  Hmmm. That was weird. If super-picky Jenna thought she was doing okay, what was wrong with the other moms?

  Josie glanced over the heads of the eighteen or so kindergartners. Most of the volunteer parents were busy pouring apple juice, wiping sticky fingers, or settling squabbles. It all looked pretty clear-cut.

  Probably she just needed to make friends with the mothers. Invade their clique. Win them over, just as she had when she’d first joined the Glamorous Nights Revue. Regrouping with the intention of doing just that, Josie joined another parent volunteer near the reading station.

  “Whew!” she
said conversationally. “These kindergartners have some amazing energy, don’t they? If I had that much stamina, I could do the flamenco all day and all night.”

  The startled-looking mother gave her a sidelong glance. Her eyes widened. “Sorry. I just remembered I’m supposed to be…over there.”

  With a nervous-looking smile, she shelved the book she’d been holding. She skedaddled to the other side of the room as if Cujo were snapping at her sensible flats.

  “It’s a dance,” Josie muttered. “The flamenco. Heard of it?”

  Sheesh. Shunned in kindergarten. This sucked.

  Refusing to be held down, Josie approached the teacher.

  “Hi, I’m Josie. Jenna’s sister. We met right after the bell rang.” She offered her most dazzling I’m responsible look—the one that usually ensured a new contract at Enchanté when renewals came due. “The cookies are passed out now, so I thought maybe I could do something else to help. Take those worksheets off your hands and give them back to the kids, maybe?”

  The teacher started. She clutched the papers to her chest, obscuring the Crayoned-in alphabet animals the students had drawn on them. “Oh, no! That’s all right. It’s perfectly fine. No worries. I can do it. No. No, thank you.”

  Wow. Somebody needed to cut back on their caffeine.

  “Okay. In that case, have you had a chance to look at the flyers I brought?”

  Josie had packed along two dozen handwritten information sheets for her upcoming dance school, hoping to interest the kindergartners—or their parents—in taking lessons. Josie herself had started taking ballet at the age of four, followed by tap-dancing and gymnastics at seven. Her mother had hoped all the activity would give her a “productive outlet” for her energy.

  “Oh, yes, your flyers are all taken care of,” the teacher told her, looking relieved. “Thomas’s mom said she’d hand them out.” She pointed to a group of mothers near the classroom sink. “She’s the blonde in the yellow shirt, right over there.”

  “Thanks.” Zeroing in on the blonde, Josie headed that way.

  Although the parents were supposed to be helping with classroom tasks, as Jenna was doing near the motion discovery station, these mothers huddled with their heads together. The sound of their voices drifted toward her. Josie recognized that pose—and that low buzz. She’d experienced both backstage every day at Enchanté. They were the universal signs of juicy gossip.