Beauty in Hiding

by Robin Patchen

  “Dude, what do you think?” Tank said. “Just lemme—”

  “If I can’t locate them in a few days, I’ll bring you in. But I have some leads.”

  Tank drummed his fingers on the desk. He didn’t look happy.

  The computer dinged. “He sent it.”

  A twinge of relief settled in Derrick’s stomach. “Good. Excellent.”

  “I’m gonna have to pay tax on this money, man.”

  “Tax?” Derrick stood, rested his hands on the desk, and leaned forward. “Imagine what you’d have paid back in college if not for me.”

  Tank stood, too. “I know what you did for me. I don’t even know…” He shook his head, stared out the window to the dingy street beyond. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I’d just done my time, you know?”

  “And gone to prison? That what you wanted? To be an ex-con? ’Cause I know a few of those, and life isn’t easy after prison.”

  “I’m not saying that.” Tank sat again and stared at the desk. Finally, he looked up. For the first time in…ever, Derrick saw genuine regret in the man’s eyes. “What I did to her…it was awful. I shoulda gone to jail for it. That night haunts me. And ‘cause you lied for me, I can’t ever come clean. Can’t tell Emily the truth. Can’t tell anybody the truth. I just gotta live this…this lie.”

  Derrick made a show of taking out his phone. “I can fix that for you right now. Emily? That’s your wife? Give me her number, and I’ll tell her all the gory details. I’ll tell her how you followed your girlfriend out of our apartment that night. How you offered to walk her home, to ‘keep her safe.’” He made air quotes around the words. “And how, when you got to her apartment, you forced your way inside, ripped off her clothes, and—”

  “Stop!” Tank hid his face behind his hands.

  “What? You don’t think Emily wants to hear it from me? That’s fine. I’ll just call the newspapers. Maybe nobody can throw you in jail for it now—you made that fine deal—but the press can destroy your business. I’ll tell them how you threatened me, made me lie for you.”

  “That’s a lie. I never asked—”

  “After witness tells all, former fullback finally fesses up. I like the alliteration, don’t you?”

  Tank dropped his hands, glared. “You made your point.”

  “What, you don’t want the world to know?” Derrick paced to the back wall and leaned against it. “I thought the guilt was killing you.”

  “Just…” He waved his Frisbee-sized hand toward the chair.

  Satisfied, Derrick sat again.

  Tank focused on his computer, tapped a few buttons, and turned to Derrick. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You and me, we’re gonna go to the bank. I’m gonna get you the cash, and then you’re gonna walk away. What we’re doing here, it’s illegal, and you’re just as involved as I am. This ever comes back to bite me, and I’ll tell ’em everything. Now, I got something on you, and you got something on me. Got it?”

  “As long as our friendship’s still intact.”

  The expletive-laden retort suggested the friendship was off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With a grocery sack hanging from his wrist, Jack carried the pan of lasagna next door. His stomach rumbled with the scents of tomatoes and garlic and sausage as steam rose and mixed with the cold November air.

  He had no idea why he was here.

  What in the world had prompted him to offer to bring dinner to Harper and Red tonight? Sure, he wanted to talk to Red about real estate. The man seemed to know his stuff. But Jack could easily have stopped by earlier to do that. Besides, he’d had better things to do than spend an hour in the kitchen putting this meal together.

  He climbed the ramp and knocked on the door with his foot.

  Harper greeted him with a smile. “That smells delicious.” She stepped out of his way, and he headed for the kitchen.

  “Hey, Red.”

  The old man lifted his hand in greeting without taking his eyes off the TV.

  Harper folded a dishtowel and rested it in the middle of the kitchen table. “Just set it there.”

  He did and took the foil off the top. “We’d better let it cool before we dig in.”

  She eyed the concoction with lifted eyebrows. She’d changed out of her jeans and now wore yoga pants and a sweatshirt the way a runway model would wear yoga pants and a sweatshirt. He flashed back to the sight of her in those ridiculous pajamas, and his cheeks warmed. Did this woman ever not look gorgeous?

  “You made this?”

  He laughed at the awe in her voice. “Surprised?”

  “When you said lasagna, I just assumed you’d warm up one of those frozen ones. But that’s not a disposable pan.”

  “We Rossis know Italian food.”

  She inhaled slowly. “I should say so.” She turned, pulled three plates from the cabinet, and set them on the table. “You like to cook?”

  Jack slid the plates to their spots in front of the chairs. “It’s a hobby. Unfortunately, I rarely have anybody to cook for.”

  Harper opened the silverware drawer. “I bet Ginny would love to sample your masterpieces.”

  “My real estate agent?” He grabbed some napkins, folded them, and set them beside the plates.

  Harper turned, lifted her eyebrows.

  “Our relationship is nothing like that.”

  She turned back to the drawer and took her time pulling out the utensils. “If you say so.”

  “Besides, she’s not my type.”

  Harper set the forks and knives on the table. “What type is she?”

  “I don’t know. She’s a great real estate agent. But she’s from California, and she has some weird ideas.” He grabbed the sack he’d carried in, grateful for something to do besides explain to this beautiful woman why another beautiful woman didn’t appeal to him. “Salad. Just Caesar. You have a bowl, or should we just serve ourselves from the bag?”

  “The bag works.” She crossed her arms. “So, tell me about poor Ginny and why being from California is a turnoff.”

  He shrugged. “Today she suggested that I should spend time every day visualizing the future I desire and the types of properties I want to buy. She said if I did that, then the universe”—he put air quotes around the word—“would work with me to get me what I wanted.”

  “Wow.” Harper laughed, shook her head. “So have you tried it?”

  Behind Jack, Gramps said, “That’s just New Age mumbo jumbo.”

  Jack stepped out of his way. “I agree.”

  Gramps shuffled through the kitchen behind his walker and sat. “The universe. Pfft. You need something, you ask God. You start making requests of the universe, and who the heck knows who’s gonna answer.” He eyed the pan on the table. “Well, we gonna eat or what?”

  “Give me a sec, Gramps.” Harper focused on Jack. “I have sweet tea, water, or coffee.”

  “Sweet tea, huh? Y’all aren’t from around here, are you?”

  Harper rewarded his fake Southern accent with a laugh. “You want to try it?”

  “Why not.”

  She poured two glasses of iced tea and refilled Red’s Gatorade before she settled between him and Red.

  Red set his hands palms-up on the table. Harper slid her hand into his and glanced at Jack. He grabbed the old man’s hand before taking Harper’s. That’s when he realized why he’d made the lasagna for them.

  An hour of work just to hold a pretty girl’s hand. He’d think about how pathetic that was later. Right now, he had to focus on Red’s prayer and not on the delicate fingers resting snugly against his palm.

  He must’ve failed, because Harper’s amen startled him. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  He forced himself to drink the tea, though it was sweeter than rock candy, while he watched Harper and Red savor the meal. What wasn’t to like? Homemade spaghetti sauce, hot Italian sausage, three kinds of cheese. But it was Harper’s little moans of pleasure that brought him the most joy. And mayb
e some other emotions he chose not to name.

  “You cooked this, boy?”

  Jack set his fork on the plate. “My mother’s recipe.”

  “Your mother’s a genius.” Red forked another bite. “A veritable genius.”

  “I’ll tell her you approve.”

  Harper set her tea down. “Your folks live around here?”

  “I grew up about an hour from here, in Nashua. They still live in the same house.”

  “What brought you to Nutfield?” Harper asked.

  “After college, I got a job working for a real estate management company here. I figured I’d just stay a year or so, get some experience. But I like it here. Nothing wrong with Nashua, but the traffic, the busyness—it’s just not me. I prefer small-town life.”

  Red said, “I like it here, all these trees, all this quiet. Makes a man feel close to God.”

  The look Harper gave her grandfather was filled with such affection, Jack felt like an intruder. She reached across the table, rested her delicate hand on his gnarled one. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  He harrumphed and forked another bite of lasagna.

  Whatever was going on with these two—and Jack was sure something wasn’t right—it was clear they loved each other. And for a woman to do all Harper was doing to take care of her grandfather—that kind of love covered a multitude of sins.

  After the meal, Harper gathered their dirty dishes and turned to the sink.

  Jack focused on Red. “You said something about assigning properties yesterday. I looked it up online, so I know a little about it. Can you tell me more?”

  Red’s crinkly eyes narrowed, and he regarded Jack like he might a poisonous snake. “What are you talking about?”

  “Uh…” He glanced at Harper, but her focus was on the dishes. “At the rec center yesterday, you mentioned that you used to assign real estate to protect your own money. Right?”

  “Don’t know what you’re on about, boy!”

  At the sound of Red’s raised voice, Harper turned, eyes wide.

  Jack leaned back, lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood.”

  Red looked at Harper. “What is he talking about?”

  She turned off the water, dried her hands on a towel, and walked to the table. “It’s okay. Jack’s a friend. He brought us this lovely dinner.”

  Red eyed the pan of lasagna in the center of the table, seemed to study the pasta still there, the empty place where they’d cut away their slices, the sauce and cheese and sausage that had oozed into that empty place. “I don’t like lasagna.”

  Harper glanced at Jack, then took Red’s hand. “That’s okay. You already ate anyway. You want to watch some TV?”

  Red glanced at her, glared at Jack, and nodded once. “Don’t know what I’m doing at this table, anyway. Is Wheel of Fortune on yet? I never miss Wheel of Fortune.”

  Harper pulled his walker close and helped him stand. Together, they shuffled into the living room while Jack sat at the table uselessly.

  A moment later, Harper returned. “Sorry about that. Considering the day he had, the week we’ve had, I’m amazed he was lucid as long as he was today.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She returned her focus to the dishes.

  He wrapped the aluminum foil back over the lasagna and slid it into the fridge.

  When he closed the door, he caught her watching him over her shoulder. “You aren’t leaving that, are you?”

  “You guys can have it. I made a second pan for myself and put it in my freezer to enjoy later.”

  She turned back to the sink, her head shaking. “Wish I could cook.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I can make eggs. I can bake a can of biscuits without burning them. I’ve perfected the art of tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

  “How do you survive?”

  She set the last plate on the towel she’d laid out and turned to him. “I just told you. Eggs, canned biscuits, tomato soup, and grilled cheese. And… let’s see. There’s boxed macaroni and cheese, and I can fry those hamburgers you buy in bulk.”

  “Please tell me you don’t mean those frozen things that come already made into perfectly round patties.”

  She shrugged. “Ground beef is gross. I’m not touching it to make patties.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “What else?”

  “Spaghetti.”

  “With jarred sauce?”

  “It works. Doesn’t taste like that, though.” She gestured to the fridge and the lasagna he’d stowed there.

  “You’re killing me.”

  Her smile made his full stomach do a flip.

  She grabbed the sponge to wipe the table.

  “Did your mom or dad cook?”

  “Mom did,” Harper said. “She was a great cook.”

  “Was? Is she—?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s still a great cook.”

  Harper turned to wipe down the counters, which were already perfectly clean, while he let her words process. The way she’d answered made him wonder…

  “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked.

  Harper scrubbed the already clean surface. “It’s been a while.”

  “Is she Red’s daughter?”

  She turned, looked confused. “Oh. Uh, no. Gramps is on the other side of the family.” She tossed the sponge into the sink, passed Jack, and poked her head into the living room. He could just make out Red’s soft snores over the sound of the TV.

  She returned. “Well, I’d better start getting him ready for bed.”

  Bed? It was just after six.

  She leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms. “He’s had a long day, and so have I. Thanks for dinner.”

  A not-so-subtle hint even Jack could pick up on. He walked to the front door. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

  She barely cracked a smile. “Sure. Anytime.”

  If anytime meant never again, he might believe her.

  On the short walk home, he thought about what had just happened. Everything had been going just fine until he’d asked about her family. Then, her countenance had snapped shut like a trap door.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what was beyond that door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harper couldn’t believe the crowd. For some reason, she’d thought Monday would be slow at McNeal’s. One more thing she’d been wrong about.

  She’d really blown the keep her head down portion of her plan the week before. What had she been thinking, asking Jack about his family? Of course he’d reciprocate and ask about hers. She couldn’t tell him the truth. And she was a lousy liar. What choice had she had but to send him away before he asked more questions?

  His expression still haunted her. She’d insulted him. Apparently, she’d insulted him a lot, because she hadn’t seen him since. In fact, if she weren’t mistaken, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. When she and Gramps had returned to the house on Friday afternoon, she’d seen that Jack had been there to rake up the last of the leaves in the front yard. She could picture him now, watching from his house next door until their car drove away, then rushing over to get it done while they were gone.

  That’s how rude she’d been Thursday night.

  She’d thought surely she’d see him over the weekend, be able to offer her thanks, maybe even an apology. It was probably better she hadn’t, because an apology might lead to more questions she couldn’t answer. It would be better if she kept her distance from Jack and Bonnie and everybody else she had contact with. If they knew the truth, they’d reject her.

  Except Gramps, who knew everything and loved her anyway.

  Everything she was doing, all she’d lost—it would all be worth it if she could only keep Gramps safe.

  She managed to finish her shift in time—barely. The rec center would close in ten minutes, so she hung up her apron, waved to Bonnie, and head
ed for her car. On her way, she checked her phone and discovered she’d missed a phone call.

  She swiped it on, looked again to make sure she wasn’t crazy. She’d missed four phone calls.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  While she drove toward the food bank, she listened to the first message. Vanessa’s voice, her no-nonsense tone and Serbian accent. “Your grandfather is very confused, and he is getting agitated. Please call us immediately.”

  In the food bank’s lot, she jammed the car into Park and ran in the back door. The warehouse was empty.

  Steve, the older man she’d met the other day, was just coming out of the rec center.

  He saw her, shook his head. “Your grandfather isn’t here.”

  Her shock must’ve shown on her face, because he patted her arm with his age-spotted hand. “He’s okay. He got confused and—”

  “I called you.”

  Harper turned to see Vanessa coming from her office.

  “I’m sorry. My phone has terrible reception. Where is Gramps?”

  “He was not able to be calmed,” Vanessa said.

  “He was ticked off,” Steve added.

  Harper turned back to Vanessa, who said, “I called Jack. He took him home.”

  Jack. She closed her eyes, felt the tears burning. Poor Gramps. He must have been terrified. And she’d had no idea.

  A hand squeezed her shoulder. She opened her eyes and smiled at Steve, who patted her arm awkwardly. “It’ll be okay.”

  “You need a new phone,” Vanessa said.

  “Yes. I’ll… It won’t happen again.”

  Vanessa nodded once, spun, and returned to her office.

  Steve let his arm drop and tilted his head toward the door where Vanessa had just disappeared. “She was worried. I don’t know her very well. Nobody does, to tell you the truth. But from what I can tell, she masks every emotion with irritation.”

  Harper focused on the old man. “If you say so.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  She’d better, because without this place, Harper wouldn’t be able to keep her job. And then what would she and Gramps do?