by Lisa Plumley
“He can’t even go to Melissa’s wedding?” Josie wailed when he’d finished. Reaching for a tissue, she accidentally dabbed her eyes with a dried-out marshmallow Peep instead. Stupid junk food. She accepted the tissue TJ handed her. “Luke’s lost everything, everything, and nobody in his family will even take his side in this feud with his dad?”
Appalled, she stared at TJ.
He nodded. “That’s pretty much it.”
“Even though all Luke wants is to be a motorcycle mechanic instead of a freight company big shot?”
“Yeah. I guess I should’ve explained the whole story, back when I told you about Luke wanting to open his own shop. But I figured Luke would kick my butt if I did.”
A sniffle. “Won’t he kick your butt now?”
“He’d like to.” Remarkably, TJ grinned. “But he’s pretty dog-tired after working on Blue Moon night and day.”
Blue Moon. Instantly, bitterness washed over Josie. No matter how sorry she felt for “Link” now, it didn’t feel good to lose the man you loved to a house.
“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.” TJ put down the Cap’n Crunch. He leaned forward, awkwardly patting her blankets in the vicinity of her shoulder. “It’s not like that. Come on. You’re the first person Luke cared about who didn’t nag him to wash the motor oil off his hands. He needs you.”
He couldn’t possibly need her as much as she needed him. Defiantly, Josie stuffed a Twizzler in her mouth. She chewed furiously.
What was wrong with TJ? Why was he putting all this stuff in her head? She didn’t want to empathize with Luke. She wanted…. She wanted to be with him. Oh, criminy.
“Does he know that? Does he know he needs me?”
“He asked you to stay, didn’t he? He offered you a new dance studio, didn’t he?” TJ said. “In guy talk, wanting to do stuff for a woman means something.”
“Yeah. It means he wants to buy me.”
TJ rolled his eyes. Abruptly, Josie realized that Luke—stripped of his inheritance, his trust fund, and all his properties, couldn’t buy much more than she could. Which amounted to a gumball. Or maybe half a Twix bar.
Feeling overwhelmed and confused and, yes, strangely hopeful for the first time in days, she kept her voice small.
“Is Blue Moon really all he has left?”
TJ gave her a meaningful look.
“Now it is,” he said. “Without you. Without you being with him, together. Like, forever. You know, true love style.”
TJ had never been one for subtlety.
“I guess I could ask my mom to list Blue Moon for him,” Josie mused. “She’d know how to get the best price for it. You know, in an auction or something.”
“You don’t care if Luke sells the place?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She sort of missed it. All that work, all that cleaning…. Josie had formed an attachment to Blue Moon. But there were other considerations here.
“That’s really awesome of you,” TJ enthused, eyes wide.
“It’s not that big a deal.” His blatant approval made her feel twitchy. It wasn’t as though Josie was forgiving Luke or anything. All she was doing was giving him a leg up on the competition. A helping hand toward settling things with his dad, the way she had with hers.
“Besides,” she said with forced breeziness, “if I can’t have Blue Moon, some moneybags mansion-owning wanna-be might as well pay through the nose for the privilege, right?”
“Hell, yeah.” TJ laughed and grabbed another nacho.
“But you’d better not tell Luke,” she warned him. “He doesn’t need to know I’m involved in this.”
“Scout’s honor.” He held up a nacho, swearing-in style.
“As if you were ever a Boy Scout.” Filled with a weird sense of energy, Josie flung off her blanket. For the first time in days, she actually felt good about something. “I’ll go talk to my mom right now.”
It wasn’t everything, she decided. But it was a start.
Tallulah slouched in a booth at Frank’s Diner, a Garbo-style scarf on her head. A pair of Jackie O sunglasses hid most of her face. Turning up the collar of her trench coat, she scanned the restaurant. Her contact wasn’t here yet.
“Mmmm.” Across the table Ambrose paused in mid-bite, an expression of bliss on his distinguished features. “This apple pie is beyond compare. Especially with this—what did you call it? Reddi-Wip?—on top. Delicious.”
“Shhh. Pull down your fedora and be quiet. You don’t want to be recognized, do you?”
He smiled at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s meddling.”
“Which is why you’re enjoying it.”
“Hmmph. I’m only doing what’s necessary.”
“You’re in love.” Smiling, Ambrose pointed his fork at her. “You want everyone else to be in love, too.”
She was saved from answering that sentimental—if accurate—twaddle by the arrival of her partner in crime. Tallulah waved him over, thrilled by their clandestine meeting.
TJ slid in the booth. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Where’s your disguise?” Tallulah demanded. She waved at his Laundromat T-shirt and baggy surf shorts. “Do you want us to get caught?”
“Chill out.” He signaled for Luanne, the waitress, by pantomiming a cup of coffee in his hand. When she nodded, he looked back at Tallulah. “We won’t get caught. They’re both on the hook now.”
She leaned forward. “Josie’s come around?”
“Almost. How about Luke?”
“Almost,” Tallulah and Ambrose said in unison.
The three of them smiled.
“Family meddling sure beats corporate spying,” TJ said. “But Luke would kill us if he knew about this. Josie, too.”
“It’s for their own good. They’ll thank us in the end.” Confidently, Tallulah snitched a bite of her husband’s piecrust. “My, that is tasty. Oh, Luanne…?”
Two days after the sprinkler head incident, Luke still hadn’t gotten Tallulah’s irritating comments out of his head. Ambrose’s, either.
Pigheaded pride won’t tell you knock-knock jokes.
Damn it. That one had really gotten under his skin.
Was it possible he was being too stubborn? Had always been too stubborn? Even with his dad…and Josie?
Luke considered it, picking up his paintbrush to apply another coat to the repaired beams on the house’s porch. He slapped on some Colonial Blue. All around him, the estate lay quiet. Too quiet. TJ had started spending more and more time at Amber’s apartment, and even Tallulah and Ambrose had quit their daily lecture visits.
“Good idea,” someone said from the driveway. “Painting the trim will increase your curb appeal a hundred and ten percent. You should plant some flowers in those window boxes, too. Buyers like flowers.”
He glanced past the porch, surprised to find Nancy Day standing beside her white Caddy. He must have been too lost in thought to hear her drive up. That wasn’t like him at all.
“I knew you owned this place,” she said, coming closer with her eyes—and her gold jewelry—shining. “No ‘handyman’ would have worked as hard as you have.”
He shrugged, offering her his least paint-splattered palm for a handshake. “It’s complicated.”
“I don’t think so.” Making herself at home, Nancy sat on the wide porch railing. She gazed up at him steadily, with unnerving perception. “I think it’s pretty simple. You know what you want, and you’re going after it. That’s an admirable quality. I hope you succeed.”
“Right. With six percent commission going to you.”
“Maybe. If you decide to let me help you sell this place.” She smiled, not the least bit bothered by his blunt statement. “You know, you and my daughter have a lot in common. She’s always had that go-getter quality, too. It’s what led her to dancing.”
Not wanting to hear about Josie—not ready to hear about Josie—Luke picked up his paintbrush again. He stroked on
a little more Colonial Blue, not speaking.
“One innocent showing of the Radio City ‘Christmas Spectacular’ with her grandmother,” Nancy rattled on cheerfully, “and Josie knew she was going to become a Rockette. Nobody was going to stop her.”
“But she’s not a Rockette,” Luke pointed out, not sure why he needed to make that distinction. “She’s a showgirl.”
“Well, technically, she was a showgirl. We both know that’s finished for Josie now.”
Chastened, he went on painting. He focused on smoothing on an even layer of blue, unwilling to think about Josie as a little girl. Josie sitting in a theater balcony, enchanted, watching a bunch of high-kicking, Santa-suited Rockettes. Josie dreaming of dancing…dreaming, as an adult, of teaching dancing. Exactly the way he dreamed of being a mechanic.
“Anyway, that’s beside the point.” Nancy gave a dismissive wave, her multiple bracelets jangling. “The point is, Josie did it. She achieved her dream.”
Luke didn’t agree. “If she didn’t become a Rockette, she didn’t achieve her dream. End of story.”
“Some people,” Nancy said, “are wise enough to know when their dreams need modifying.”
Luke met her gaze. The meaning there was loud and clear.
“If you’re one of them,” she added, “you’ll never need this.”
She plucked out one of her business cards and anchored its corner beneath Luke’s paint can. She gave Blue Moon one final, covetous look, then clattered down the porch steps.
“Wait.” Frowning, Luke fisted his hand. “Does Josie still want her dance school? Or did all…this…make her give up?”
Graciously, Nancy Day didn’t push him on what this referred to. It was obvious she already knew. It was equally obvious he’d underestimated her all along.
She smiled. “Give up? Not while there are still Rockettes in the world.”
Then Nancy Day drove away in her Caddy, leaving Luke with the distinct feeling he’d just been outmaneuvered by the QVC jewelry queen. She’d called his bluff, too.
Stymied, he gazed out over the estate’s wide green lawn. If holding tight to his pride didn’t work, and explaining to Josie didn’t work…what would?
Browsing through the overstuffed racks at Glenda’s Clothing Cache in downtown Donovan’s Corner, Josie slid aside another flowered skirt. Her lunch break from her new filing job at her mother’s realty office wasn’t long enough to allow any waffling. She either liked something or she didn’t. Moving on….
“Not me, not me, not me,” she told Jenna, scraping the hangers aside. “So not me. Unless I become a professional hog caller.”
Jenna made a face. “How would you know what’s not you? You’ve been impersonating me for the past few months.”
“Right,” Josie agreed, looking her sister over. “And I have to say, our wardrobe swap has done your look a world of good. I want those jeans back, by the way.”
She leaned over and gave Emily a chin tickle, delighting in her niece’s throaty chuckle. Ever since asking her mom to take over Luke’s auction of Blue Moon, Josie had felt better. Almost free, strange as it sounded. She’d even cut back on E! TV.
“My point is,” Jenna persisted, “when are you going to become yourself again?”
“I am myself. A little worse for the wear, but—”
“No, you’re not,” Jenna interrupted. “You’re not ‘you’ yet. That’s my crew neck top, and those are Mom’s gold sandals.”
“Well, it’s my skirt,” Josie said defensively. She examined her sister. “What’s your problem, anyway? After everything I’ve been through with Luke, with him lying to me, with losing my job, and losing Blue Moon…. I don’t need this today.”
“I happen to think it’s exactly what you need.” Pulling a soggy price tag from Emily’s mouth, Jenna serenely substituted an animal cracker. The girl munched. “We’ve all been walking on eggshells around you for days. It’s gone on long enough.”
“Sheesh. Settle down, Oprah.”
“Nope.” Jenna shook her head, boosting Emily higher on her hip as she followed Josie to the next rack. “I’ve had it! You keep whining about ‘Luke this,’ and ‘Luke that,’ and complaining about him ‘lying’ to you. Well, here’s a news flash.”
Josie gawked. Her sister—her perfect, patient, and sensible sister—was actually going ballistic on her.
“What about you, huh?” Jenna asked. “You haven’t exactly been a thousand percent truthful about who you are, either.”
“Yes, I was! I always was.”
“Oh, yeah? Baked any cupcakes lately? Dropped in on any PTSO meetings?” She narrowed her eyes as though sensing her impending victory. “Worn any orthopedic shoes?”
Josie gasped. “You promised you’d never mention those again!”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
This wasn’t fair. Jenna knew darn well Josie had been forced into doing all those things to gain support—and students—for her dance school.
“Did Luke really know who you were?” Jenna asked, pushing even harder. “Or did he buy into all that stuff, too? Did you ever give him a chance to honestly know you?”
Josie crossed her arms. “He knew me.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Some of that stuff was really me, that’s how!” Josie ticked off the specifics on her fingers. “Luke liked my false eyelashes! I know he did. He liked my cleaning. He liked my dancing. He liked my knock-knock jokes.” Of which there’d been precious few lately, she admitted. She raised her chin. “He liked me.”
“Okay. So let me get this straight. One minute you’re baking cupcakes. The next minute you’re putting on a miniskirt and pinning ‘Frank’ to your head. How’s Luke supposed to know which of those things represents the real ‘you’?”
A frown. “He just…is.”
“Uh-huh.” Jenna rolled her eyes. She gave Emily another animal cracker and then stood by, waiting with her usual saint-like tolerance for Josie to catch a clue.
“He ought to know!” Josie said in her own defense. “After all, everybody else in town did. They could tell I wasn’t really into cupcake baking.” She stopped, stunned by the truth. “They could tell, couldn’t they?”
“Probably,” Jenna mused. To her credit, she didn’t even gloat about being right. “People have a way of detecting insincerity. Inauthenticity. That’s probably why they didn’t exactly line up to help you.”
Josie had been more than sincere in wanting her dance school. She’d been downright serious. But right now, she had more important things to think about. Like Luke.
“I never really gave Luke a chance,” she said, marveling at the revelation. “When it comes right down to it, I never gave anybody in Donovan’s Corner a chance. Not to know the real me.”
“I know. I helped you do it.”
Josie dismissed that. “I made you help me.”
“You’re not that powerful. But the real you is a good person. Fake hair and all.” Jenna grinned. “It’s not too late to change things, you know.”
“Yes, it is.” Feeling like a hypocrite, Josie moaned. “I’ve lost Luke. My dance school is indefinitely postponed. I’m a filing clerk in Donovan’s Corner. And I’m wearing plaid!”
“All those things can be fixed,” Jenna soothed.
“That’s right,” a mysterious voice added. “None of those are insurmountable problems.”
They turned, staring at the nearby dressing room.
The curtain moved aside. Tallulah Carlyle emerged, a bow-wearing shih tzu in her arms and a grin on her face.
“We can fix everything if we get started right now,” she said. “I have just the plan….”
Chapter Twenty-Two
From the moment Luke decided that things had to change—that he had to change—the universe seemed to jump on board. Tallulah and Ambrose ended their self-imposed Luke boycott and started coming to Blue Moon again, full of advice and plans. TJ ditched his silent treatment and actually
helped with the scheme Luke cooked up. And even Nancy Day, once he called her, didn’t need much persuasion to join in.
His plan was a simple one. First, he had to apologize to Josie for deceiving her—in as big and as public a way as possible. Second, he had to make things up to her—ditto on the “big and public.” Third, he had to tell her he loved her.
Accomplishing it wouldn’t be easy. Hell, it would probably be terrifying—especially given the “public” part of his plan. But Luke decided he’d rather risk losing everything than go on the way he had been. If it came down to a choice between proving himself and proving his love—and it looked as if it did—there was no contest.
Luke chose love.
He wanted Josie back. Whatever it took. As long as she was still in town, and so was he, Luke figured he had a pretty good shot. So long as his plan didn’t fall apart, his estate didn’t fall apart, and his accomplices—Tallulah, Ambrose, TJ, and Nancy—didn’t fall down on the job, he just might make it.
“Hey, Ambrose.” He gestured to the opened toolbox lying at the attorney’s feet. “Hand me that one-sixteenth’s inch drill bit.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ambrose did. Squinting at the hole Luke had drilled in the ballroom wall, he wiped his hands on his new blue jeans. Nearby, Tallulah swooned.
“Oh, Ambrose. You look so macho! You should build things more often.”
Luke grinned. No need to mention that Ambrose’s contribution had mostly consisted of handing over the stud finder and gazing in the toolbox in mystification. It was kind of sweet to see his aunt back to her old self again.
A few minutes later, Luke stepped back to survey his work.
Brand-new ballet barres lined two of the ballroom’s newly mirrored walls. Wires trailed along the floor, leading to the speakers, amplifier, woofer, and other sound system components he had yet to install. Combined with the refurbished floor and the other additions to the room, it would make this place the perfect location for Josie’s dance school.
Even if she didn’t know it yet.
“Did the furniture get delivered for Josie’s office?” he asked, running his hand along the nearest barre. “And the new computer? Once Josie gets here”—God, he hoped she came—“she’ll need all that stuff for managing student records and payments and schedules.”
