by Sharon Kay
“Though I know you’ve already seen his other moves.” Another nudge.
Becca’s cheeks heated, but she smiled anyway.
Marcy turned back to the show. “Best line in this is, ‘You think I’m gorgeous. You want to kiss me.’”
Becca watched, but her heart wasn’t in it. Sure, she loved this movie, but a different person was on her mind. The need to tell Shane what happened tonight tugged at her. Near the end, when she heard a soft snore from Marcy, she grabbed her phone and pulled up her text thread with Shane.
Are you awake? she asked.
Yep. You okay?
Yeah, back home. Becca sighed. This was a conversation she needed to have on the phone, not on a text. She dialed his number as she tiptoed to her kitchen.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi.” Just hearing his voice calmed her.
“How was the bar?”
“Um, weird. That’s why I’m calling.”
“What happened?” Instant alertness in his voice. “Did any one bother you?”
“Um…I can’t believe this actually happened, but Kirk showed up.”
“What? I didn’t know he was the bar type.”
“He’s not,” Becca said softly.
“Did he talk to you?”
“Yeah.” She proceeded to fill Shane in on the whole thing.
“Fuck. That pisses me off. Like he can just say sorry for the things he said?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It just makes no sense. When he broke up with me, he was so clear that he wanted nothing to do with me ever again.”
“So what changed his mind?”
“I have no idea. Or is he making it up?” She rubbed her temple. “But why would he even do that? And why come to a bar to bring this up?”
“Was he drunk?”
“Didn’t seem so, but he looked messed up, like he hadn’t showered or slept.” She sat at her table. “I’m so glad he didn’t try to hang around. It was just so weird.”
“That’s the polite way to say it,” he grunted. “Maybe he’s having regrets, but I’d think he would make a better effort to get you back. Not that I want him to make the effort. He doesn’t deserve you.”
She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I don’t want to be with him. The whole time, I was just wishing he would leave.”
“I wish I’d been there to set him straight.”
She couldn’t imagine Shane and Kirk facing off in a bar. But if Shane had been there… wow. “Me too, but luckily, the whole thing only lasted a few minutes. And Marcy was ready to find him and beat him up if she could.”
He chuckled. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” She squared her shoulders. “Better after talking to you.” He’d said something similar up on Redemption Hill.
“Do you want company?” His sexy voice drawled, making it hard to say no.
“I’ll take a rain check.” She smiled, wanting nothing more than his body next to hers. “Actually, Marcy’s here. We were watching a movie, but she passed out on my couch, so I’m going to bed soon.”
“All right.” He blew out a breath. “Promise me you’ll call me for anything, anytime. Okay?”
“Of course.” She twisted a lock of her red hair. “Tonight was odd. All of a sudden, he was just right there. I mean, I never see him. We have no reason to run into each other.”
“Thank god for that,” he muttered. “I’m glad you called me.”
“Me too.”
“Sleep tight.”
“Night.” Becca ended the call and pressed the phone to her chest. Marcy’s words echoed in her head. Mr. Amazing. The kind of guy you deserve… She took a deep breath, her heart lighter now, filled with thoughts of Shane and his voice still tickling her ears. He wasn’t even here, yet she felt more secure knowing he was aware of this new weirdness in her life. The man radiated protection. And the two of them had privileges. She couldn’t stop a smile as she padded to her bedroom, hoping for dreams of Shane.
Chapter 23
Becca hummed to herself as she wiped down the tables after lunch in the Silver Springs dining room. There were few chairs to move since many of the residents were wheelchair-bound. Most of them had retired to their rooms for some downtime or TV before bingo started later in the afternoon.
It was Wednesday. The weekend seemed like it had just happened and, at the same time, like it had been months ago. Shane. God, she was quickly getting addicted to him.
Tables done, she headed to the kitchen to grab a mop. Her boss, Mrs. Miller, was in the kitchen going over the evening menu with the cooks. She looked up as Becca entered.
“Hi, Becca,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Okay.” Becca shook the crumbs from her rag into the garbage can and tossed the cloth into a dirty dishtowel bin. Mrs. Miller had been nice to her so far—actually, she was nice to everyone. Becca had been so grateful for the job that she hadn’t thought she’d luck out in getting a nice boss. She moved some dirty plates to the sink and started to rinse them, but Mrs. Miller stopped her.
“That’s all right dear. Do you have a second?”
“Of course.” Becca dried her hands.
“Come on.” Mrs. Miller led Becca out of the kitchen and through the polished floors of Silver Springs. Landscape scenes hung on the walls. Soon they would start decorating for the Halloween bazaar, and the activities director wanted Becca to help hang crepe paper in the halls.
Becca followed her boss. Mrs. Miller was probably in her fifties. Her dark hair was stylish and short. She always wore dress pants and kept a suit jacket in her office in case she had a meeting with someone important. The oldest residents called her “young lady.” She motioned Becca into her office and closed the door. “Sit, please.”
Becca sat in one of two chairs in front of the wooden desk. Mrs. Miller sat in her chair and pulled a letter from a drawer. “I wanted to talk to you because I received a letter in the mail today. I don’t quite know what to think of it. I don’t even know if it’s true.”
“A letter?”
“About you.”
“Me?” Becca’s heart dropped to her feet. “May I see it?”
Mrs. Miller nodded and handed her the envelope.
Becca examined it. It was addressed to Mrs. Miller and printed, probably from a laser printer. There was no return address. Becca removed the single sheet of paper inside and scanned it quickly, every word making her want to vomit.
Dear Mrs. Miller,
As a fellow citizen of Redemption County, I find it my civic duty to inform you, if you are currently unaware, that one of your recently-hired employees, Rebecca Gable, was recently found to have committed embezzlement in the amount of $500 dollars cash. The crime occurred at the Big Box in Marmion. Miss Gable was charged with a misdemeanor.
Oh god. Bile rose in her throat. There was no signature. Becca read it again, not believing the black-and-white print before her. Who would do this? Was she about to lose her job? She raised her eyes to her boss, mortified, hurt, and braced for the worst.
Mrs. Miller regarded her with an unreadable expression. “I guess my first question would be… is this true?”
“Yes.” Becca’s blood roared in her ears, and her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Miller sat back in her chair. “Well, thank you for your honesty. And don’t worry—being a misdemeanor, it wasn’t necessary to disclose that on your job application. You had no obligation to tell me.”
“Okay.” She knew that, but it still was a relief to hear her boss say it. Becca had gone over all her job applications with Evan, ensuring she mentioned everything she was required to—and no more.
“Your job is safe,” Mrs. Miller continued. “Your responsibilities don’t require you to handle money. You’ve been a mode
l employee so far, and we’re glad to have you.”
“Thank you,” Becca managed to say, though her voice cracked.
Mrs. Miller folded her reading glasses. “I’m more concerned about who sent this and why. Do you have any idea?”
“No, I…” am totally shocked and embarrassed. “I have no clue.”
“There’s no signature and no return address. This is very strange.” The older woman looked at Becca, assessing. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m just trying to move on from this.” Becca folded the letter back into the envelope. “Not that this is any excuse, but my mom passed away and I had a really rough year. I’m just trying to put it behind me and start fresh.”
Mrs. Miller smiled kindly. “All right. Like I said, your job is safe. No one else needs to know about this.” She took the letter from Becca and dropped it into the recycle bin.
“Thank you for understanding.” Becca stood on shaky legs and left.
Instead of returning to the kitchen, she headed to the enclosed garden area where residents were able to plant flowers or vegetables, as long as the plants didn’t grow so big that they took over their neighbor’s plot. And because kneeling to garden was hard on elderly knees, the plots were set into tables at wheelchair height. Trees throughout provided a mix of sun and shade.
Benches were placed around the perimeter of the courtyard space. Becca walked to one farthest from the door and sat, trying to calm her racing heart. Chills raced down her arms despite the warm fall sun. Who in the world would go out of their way to do this? It was purposeful, maybe vindictive, and meant to embarrass her. Maybe meant to make her jobless.
Her phone trilled in her pocket and she pulled it out. Shane. She tried to force calm into her voice. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, Becca.” He drawled her name in a way that instantly calmed her worries. “Just thinking ’bout you. How’s your day going?”
“Um…” She rubbed her temple. “I’ve had better.”
“Ah, shoot. What’s going on?” His tone was more curious than anything else. Really, how many bad days could you have at a retirement community?
“My boss called me in. I…”
“Becca? What happened?” Now concern filtered through his voice.
She took a deep breath and summarized her meeting with Mrs. Miller.
Shane listened without interrupting her. Her heart beat in the silence when she finished. Above her, birds squawked and sang.
“Becca. Are you okay?”
“I will be,” she muttered.
“You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m coming over.”
She sucked in a breath. “You don’t have to do that.”
“An anonymous letter revealing personal information that has nothing to do with your job, sent specifically to your boss?” He blew out a breath. “It might be legal, but it’s fucked up. I want to see it.”
“Are you sure? You can leave work?”
“This is work, so yeah. Sit tight. We’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Okay.” She stood, suddenly full of nervous excitement. She needed to tell Mrs. Miller that they were about to have company, and she needed to do something to kill the next thirty minutes.
She headed to her boss’s office first, but the door was shut. Through the narrow window pane that ran from floor to ceiling next to the door, she spotted a man and woman she didn’t know. Could be a family gathering information on Silver Springs for a relative. Mrs. Miller had those meetings all the time. Becca wasn’t about to interrupt the meeting to give her a heads up that a cop and dog were en route.
Becca returned to the dining area and started mopping under the tables. Anything to keep busy. She finished the floor in record time and pushed the rolling bucket back to the supply closet. She made her way through the building to the reception area as Shane’s SUV pulled up in the circular drive at the front.
Just in time. Shane wore mirrored aviator shades, which made him look hot enough to lick if she wasn’t so upset by the letter. “Hi,” she greeted him as he and Denver came through the automatic sliding doors.
He stopped in front of her, inside her personal space, and removed his shades. Blue eyes filled with concern studied her. “You okay?” he murmured softly.
“Yeah.”
“Can I help you, Officer?” Esther, the receptionist, stood behind her huge, semi-circle-shaped desk.
“I’ve got this,” Becca said. “Officer Marlow is here to—”
“Is it therapy dog day?” a female voice yelled from beyond the desk.
The large room behind the reception area was a living room of sorts. Couches, tables, chairs, and a TV filled the space, with throw pillows and heavy drapes to make it seem cozy. Rolling around Esther’s desk in a wheelchair with a Chicago Cubs pennant attached was Mrs. Ansez. She was one of Silver Spring’s oldest residents and also one of its most lucid and funny.
“Hi, Mrs. Ansez.” Becca spoke loudly, almost yelling, because the woman was hard of hearing. “Not today. Tomorrow the dogs will be here.”
The woman made it around the desk and stopped, staring at Denver. “Well, one wanted to come early. He’s a big ’un.”
Becca glanced from Mrs. Ansez to Esther to Shane, not sure where to begin. Just then, Mrs. Miller walked out with the people she had been meeting with. Her eyes widened when she saw Shane.
“Therapy dog day is tomorrow!” Mrs. Ansez informed the visitors in her booming voice. “But looky, one couldn’t wait to see us.”
“Oh, therapy dogs?” The woman smiled. “That’s so nice. Nana always had a dog, and I know she misses her.”
“We bring the therapy dogs in once a week,” Mrs. Miller said with a big smile. “Once in a while we get cats, as well. Both are quite popular with our residents.”
The man shook her hand. “Thank you for your time today. You have a beautiful facility.”
“Thank you for coming out to see us. Good bye.” Mrs. Miller waved as they exited. When the sliding doors closed, she turned to Shane. “Officer Marlow, so nice to see you again. To what do we owe this surprise visit?”
Becca tried to hide her surprise at her boss knowing her… boyfriend? Was that the right word? They hadn’t exactly defined their situation, even though Shane’s permission to use the b-word hung like tantalizing fruit.
“Always nice to drop by,” Shane said. He gestured down the hall that Mrs. Miller had come from, subtlety leading. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Miller started walking to her office.
Shane kept close to Becca as they followed Mrs. Miller, who glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, Becca, you can catch up on whatever you were doing.”
“Actually, the reason I’m here involves Becca,” Shane rumbled calmly but with enough authority that Mrs. Miller slowed almost to a halt.
“Oh?” Mrs. Miller’s voice was surprised.
“She didn’t ask me to come, but I wanted to talk about what happened earlier,” Shane said.
“The, um, item that arrived?” Becca said when Mrs. Miller raised a brow.
“Becca filled me in, and it doesn’t sit right with me,” Shane said.
“Well, I have to agree,” Mrs. Miller murmured as they filed into her office.
Shane and Becca sat in the chairs in front of her desk. Shane gave a soft command, and Denver sat at his side.
Mrs. Miller closed the door and sat at her desk. She picked up her blue recycle bin. “I tossed it in here, let’s see… ah. Here you go.” She handed the letter to Shane.
He scanned it with a frown that deepened as he read. “This came today?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Miller said.
Shane flipped the envelope over. “Postmarked in Marmion,” he muttered. “Technically, the information in here is
factual. Yet it doesn’t have much to do with Becca’s responsibilities here. Correct?”
“That’s right.”
“There’s nothing illegal about this being mailed. Still, I’d like to keep it.”
“Sure. Anything you can do to shed more light on this would be great. Becca’s been wonderful. I honestly don’t like that someone sent this.”
Becca still wanted to die of embarrassment, but managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Miller. That means a lot.”
“Of course, dear.” Her focus shifted from Becca to Shane. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thank you for your time, ma’am.” Shane stood, and so did Becca.
They walked toward the reception area in the big main foyer. As they neared, an elderly man shuffled toward them, holding the railing attached to the wall. When he got close, he paused and read Shane’s name badge.
“Marlow!” The man squinted up at Shane. “Marlow, eh? You Jed’s boy?”
“Jed was my grandfather, sir,” Shane replied, all professional smiles and respect.
“Grandfather,” the man mused. “Shoot! Then I musta seen you when you was this big.” He held his hands a foot apart in front of his chest. “Heh heh. Look at you now.”
“I didn’t get your name,” Shane said.
“Turner. Tom Turner,” the man said. “Well, you know, your grandpappy and I, we used to keep the police hoppin’.”
“Is that so?” Shane’s eyes twinkled. “I think I recall hearin’ a few stories about Grandpa and Tom Turner.”
“We had a lot of ’em. You, though. Now, you gotta keep the folks in line.” He reached out to pat Shane’s arm. “You look just like Jed. And you’re all grown up. Shoot.” His gaze dropped to Denver. “That’s a damn fine animal you got there.”
“Thank you.” Shane glanced down at Denver, who scanned the hallway with alert eyes.
“And Becca, here.” Mr. Turner grinned a toothy grin. “She don’t let me get away with no cheatin’ at bingo.”
“Someone has to keep you in line,” Becca said teasingly. “And usually, it’s not me. It’s Mrs. Ansez.”
