Hold Me

by Susan Mallery

  Miles’s good humor faded as he took a big step back. “Thanks for sharing. She’d dead, right?”

  “You’re talking about my favorite grandmother,” Destiny told him. “Show a little respect.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kipling leaned against the Jeep and took in the show. “How long are you in town?” he asked Miles.

  “As long as the job lasts.” He looked up at the mountains. “Six weeks maybe, give or take.” He sighed heavily. “Not that her work fills my days. Know anyone who wants to hire a helicopter pilot for odd jobs?”

  “No, but I’ll ask around. There’s a company in town that offers different wilderness tours. I’ll give you the owner’s number. Aidan might want to offer helicopter tours. There may be others. Let me think on it.”

  “Sure. That would be great.” Miles fished a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. “I’d appreciate anything that would break up the boredom of going over terrain, inch by fricking inch.”

  “We pay you very well for your time,” Destiny said.

  “That you do, my love, but the money doesn’t make the work interesting.”

  “He’s a diva,” she told Kipling. “You’re the one who should have attitude, and you don’t. Miles has no reason to think he’s all that, yet he acts like he is.”

  “I can hear you,” Miles said.

  She started for the Jeep. “We have to give him a ride back to town so he can rent a car. I hope that’s okay.”

  Miles shook his head. “She’s always like this. Acting as if I’m her...”

  “Annoying younger brother?” Kipling asked.

  “Yeah. Why is that?”

  “No idea.”

  All he knew was Miles wasn’t going to get in his way. Which meant it was time to get on with his plan.

  * * *

  “I DON’T GET IT,” Starr admitted as they stepped off a curb on their walk to town and the festival in progress. “Who is Rosie the Riveter?”

  “She worked in a factory during World War II,” Destiny said. “She symbolized women helping out during the war. Before that, not many women had been in factory work, but when the men went off to war, factory positions had to be filled.”

  Starr’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  “I read a brochure. Someone dropped off a whole folder filled with brochures on the various town festivals. Some of them look fun.” More important to her summer with Starr, there were a couple every month—giving them things to do on the weekend.

  Today was the start of Rosie the Riveter Days, a festival that celebrated all of the women of Fool’s Gold who moved to San Francisco during World War II to work in the factories there.

  While the schools in Fool’s Gold were still in session for a few more weeks, Starr’s boarding school had already ended for the summer. The teen was certainly old enough to be left alone, but Destiny didn’t think day after day by herself was good for her half sister.

  “Maybe we could get a book about Rosie the Riveter from the library,” she offered.

  Starr rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. If I want to read about her, I’ll go online.”

  “Sure.”

  They crossed the street and headed for the park. The day was sunny and warm, the sidewalks filled with people. There were booths set up, selling everything from olive oil to jewelry, and posters promised live music all afternoon and evening.

  Destiny paused in front of one of the posters. At least here was something she and Starr had in common. Something they could talk about.

  “We can stay and listen to the bands,” she said. “Which ones look interesting to you?”

  “Hello, girls.”

  Destiny turned and saw a gray-haired lady in a track suit walking toward them.

  “Don’t tell me,” the older woman said. “Let me guess.” She paused, then pointed. “Destiny and Starr. Do I have that right?”

  Destiny nodded. “Yes. Hello.”

  “I’m Eddie Carberry. You two are new in town. Welcome. We like new people, as long as you don’t make trouble.” Her expression turned stern as she raised her hand and pointed her finger at Destiny. “No texting and driving, young lady. Do you hear me? It’s dangerous.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I don’t drive yet,” Starr added quickly, taking a step to the side, so she was half-hidden behind Destiny. “And I would never do that.”

  “See that you don’t.” Eddie’s face relaxed as she smiled. “Have fun at the festival.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said together.

  Eddie walked away.

  “How does she know who we are?” Starr asked. “Why was she mean?”

  “All good questions,” Destiny told her. “It’s a small-town thing.”

  “The smallest town I lived in was Nashville. From there we moved to Atlanta and then to Miami.” Starr paused for a second. “Dad took me on tour once. I was eight. We went to small towns, but that was different. I don’t know if I like it here.”

  “You have to give it time. It can be more intense, but it’s also easier to get to know people because you’ll see them again and again.”

  “Which is great unless you don’t get along.”

  Destiny laughed. “So you’re not an optimist?”

  “I guess not.” Starr’s green eyes brightened. “Isn’t moodiness a sign of, like, having talent?”

  “I think it’s more about being a teenager.”

  “Were you moody?”

  “Grandma Nell didn’t believe in moods. She always said the chickens didn’t care how I felt about feeding them, as long as I got the job done.”

  “She sounds, ah, really great.”

  Destiny grinned. “She was, but she wasn’t easy. Still, I loved being with her.” She turned back to the poster. “All right. Let’s choose our bands. You first.”

  They looked at the offerings and had a heated discussion of rock versus bluegrass. Ten minutes later, their day was scheduled, musically, at least. It was early for lunch and with the music not starting for a couple of hours, the afternoon loomed long.

  Destiny wasn’t sure what they should talk about. School? Was that a safe topic?

  “Are you keeping in touch with your school friends?” she asked.

  Starr shrugged. “Some.”

  “If you want to invite anyone to come stay for a few days, that would be okay. A weekend would be better so I wasn’t working,” she added.

  “Thanks, but no. They all have plans with their families. Becky’s going to Europe, and Chelsea’s going to a language school.” Starr sighed heavily. “Her dad works for, like, the government or something, and she has to learn a bunch of languages.”

  “That would be kind of hard.”

  “I know, right? But she’s good at it. Becky’s good at math. I’m not really good at anything. I thought maybe music but...” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged.

  For a second Destiny felt a flood of guilt. She’d only heard her sister sing a couple of times, but she had a pretty voice. She knew she could teach Starr how to play the guitar better. Maybe they could start on the keyboard. Only Destiny didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to get involved or have anyone she knew in that business. It was seductive and dangerous. From the outside, the music world was glamorous, but from the inside, it was anything but.

  A tall woman with a baby strapped to her chest approached them. She smiled engagingly.

  “Hello. You must be Destiny and Starr Mills. Nice to meet you both. I’m Felicia Boylan. I run the festivals here in town.” The woman paused. “Interesting that we’re all natural redheads. Only about two percent of the population has red hair. The gene itself is recessive. I believe the color is caused by a mutation of the MC1R. That’s a gene that—”

  Felicia paused then shrugged. “Sorry. Pretend I never said all of that. Most people don’t find my bursts of knowledge particularly interesting, but they are, I assure you, harmless.”

  “Is tha
t true?” Starr asked. “What you said about a mutation?”

  “Yes. But not in a way that gives you super powers, like in the X-Men movies. Although, curiously enough, red hair doesn’t go gray. It simply fades over time.” Felicia smiled again. “Not that you’ll care about that now, but in forty years, it will be comforting.”

  Starr looked more confused than reassured.

  “Cute baby,” Destiny said. “How old?”

  “Eight months.” Felicia beamed. “This is my daughter, Gabrielle-Emilie. She’s named after Gabrielle-Emilie Le Tonnelier de Breteuil, a French courtier who collaborated with her lover Voltaire on many physics projects. However, if you ever meet my brother-in-law Gabriel, please don’t tell him that the baby isn’t named after him. He made an erroneous assumption, and we’ve decided not to disabuse him of it.”

  Starr looked even more confused, but nodded and touched the baby’s hand. “Hi, Gabrielle.”

  “We call her Ellie for short. Humans bond through the use of nicknames, and my son, Carter, requested this one in honor of his mother.”

  Destiny was having trouble keeping up. “You’re not Carter’s mother?”

  “No. It’s complicated.” Felicia turned to Starr. “Mayor Marsha told me you were thinking of coming to the summer camp. I wanted to stop by and let you know that according to my son, it’s really great and you’ll enjoy yourself. He’s fifteen, too.”

  Destiny was willing to accept that locals might know her and Starr’s names and maybe even why they were in town. But knowing ages and about the camp was a little strange.

  “Thanks for the information,” Starr said shyly.

  “You’re welcome. One of the things they do at the camp is assign you a buddy. That’s someone who’s been there before. She’ll show you around and introduce you to people. It can be difficult when you’re new. Or odd. I was always odd when I was growing up. I’m better now. My husband says falling in love mellowed me, but I think it’s more that our intensely personal interactions have allowed me to develop my social skills.”

  Felicia touched Starr’s shoulder. “As a teenager, your natural emotional state is to feel alienated. It’s part of the separation process as you mature into adulthood. And while the concept is helpful for you to learn to be a functioning member of society, you can easily find yourself feeling out of step and alone. Which is less comfortable. I think the camp would be helpful in nurturing feelings of connection with peers.”

  “Okay,” Starr said slowly. “If you say so.”

  “Good. I’ll tell Carter to look out for you.” Felicia smiled at Destiny. “Several of the women in town will be having lunch today at Jo’s Bar. You and your sister are invited. I can’t go because I’ll be working, but I encourage you to attend. Making friends really helps a place seem like home.”

  “Thank you,” Destiny said. “That’s very nice.”

  “You’re welcome. Look for Shelby Gilmore. She said she knows you. She’ll be there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I heard there was a problem with the seating by the smaller stage. Someone didn’t pay attention to my plan. I must now go explain why he’s wrong.”

  “Good luck with that,” Destiny murmured.

  Felicia waved and walked away.

  Starr stared after her. “She scared me.”

  “Me, too. At the same time, I kind of want to be more like her. Talk about smart.”

  “You’re smart. Look at the job you have.”

  “I’m intelligent enough,” Destiny said with a laugh. “But not compared with Felicia.” She put her arm around her sister. “On the bright side, apparently we don’t have to worry about going gray.”

  “I already wasn’t.” Starr snuggled close for a second then stepped away. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too. Looks like we have plans for lunch now, but that’s hours away. Want to go by the bakery and get a doughnut?”

  “Sure.”

  They circled the park then headed up Second Street, maneuvering around families with strollers. Tourists or locals? Destiny wondered, thinking about her plan to sensibly marry and then have a quiet, calm marriage of her own one day.

  In college, when she’d come up with the plan, she’d assumed she would have found a husband by now. But it turned out that calm, sensible men were more difficult to find than she would have thought.

  Two men stepped out of the bakery. She recognized Miles and Kipling, each holding a silver-and-white-striped box.

  She stumbled to a stop as her chest suddenly tightened. How strange. What on earth was—

  Everything went still. She focused on her breathing then cautiously let her attention drift to the rest of her body. There was the aforementioned tension in her chest, plus a distinct quiver in her stomach and something almost like tingling in her thighs. If she hadn’t felt totally fine a second before, she would swear she was getting the flu. So if it wasn’t that, then what?

  She looked at Miles. He saw her and grinned. He appeared self-satisfied, which meant he’d been successfully flirting with someone. As she studied him, she felt only pity for whatever woman had endured his attentions. Not that most of them seemed to mind. Many conquests had lamented losing Miles, but few of them regretted the short-term thrill of being with him.

  Something she’d never been tempted to experience herself, so Miles wasn’t the cause of her reaction.

  She turned to Kipling and instantly got lost in his dark blue gaze. He looked less happy than his new friend. Irritation tugged at the corner of his mouth and when he glared at Miles, she had a clear view of his chiseled profile.

  Your words were like a beacon, I was looking for a home.

  Destiny sucked in air. No, she told herself firmly. She would not create song lyrics around Kipling. She knew where that led, and it was to a dark, bad place. It led to attraction, which led to sex, which led to jealousy and late-night fits of anger. Love was only a few shades less bad. No way, no how. She was not, under any circumstances, attracted to Kipling Gilmore. Ski gods did not make for sensible relationships.

  “What part of ‘my sister’ don’t you understand?” Kipling demanded as he and Miles reached her. “Hey, Destiny.”

  “Hi. What’s going on?”

  Miles shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw a beautiful woman and complimented her. This one nearly took my head off.”

  Destiny winced. “Not Shelby. I like her. Stay away from her.”

  “Thank you,” Kipling said, then smiled at Starr. “Hi. I’m Kipling.”

  “Starr.”

  “The sister. I see pretty runs in the family.”

  Starr blushed and ducked her head.

  “Hello,” Miles said. “We were talking about me. Shelby’s an adult. She can date who she wants.”

  Kipling took a step toward the other man. “No, she can’t. You hurt her, and I will break every bone in your body. Is that clear?”

  Miles opened the bakery box and pulled out a cookie. He took a bite. “Attitude, man,” he said as he chewed. “You have to work on your attitude.” He looked into Kipling’s unyielding expression and sighed. “Fine. She’s off-limits.” He offered a cookie to Starr. “So what am I going to do for fun in this town? No Shelby.” He winked at Starr. “You’re too young for me.” He looked at Destiny. “You’re not interested in me.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.”

  Miles groaned. “You don’t have to be so blunt. You could pretend you think I’m hot.” He turned to Kipling. “We’ve had this problem from the start. It’s the princess thing.”

  Destiny had been enjoying the exchange right up until that second. Now she stiffened, hoping she was wrong. That he wasn’t going there.

  It always happened, she thought frantically, searching for a distraction. Someone found out, then word spread and then everything changed.

  “Princess?” Starr asked. “Destiny?”

  “You, too, your highness.”

  “What?” Starr studied her cookie. “I’m not anybody special.”

&n
bsp; Kipling turned to Starr. “Sure you are.”

  A kindness, considering he had no idea what Miles was talking about.

  Miles wiggled his eyebrows. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

  “No, and he doesn’t have to.”

  “Sure he does.” Miles grinned at Kipling. “Destiny is the oldest daughter of Jimmy Don and Lacey Mills. You know who they are, right?”

  Kipling looked at Destiny. Confusion darkened his eyes, then it cleared. “No way.”

  “Way,” Miles told him. “I’ve met Lacey a couple of times. She usually comes to visit Destiny on her jobs. Wow, is she still hot. And that voice. I heard her live once. They really are country music royalty. All those hits, all that passion.”

  And drama, Destiny thought grimly. The pictures in the tabloids, the arrests, the divorces, the broken promises. Yeah, it had all been so incredibly wonderful. Who wouldn’t want to be her?

  She made a point of glancing at her watch. “Look at the time. We need to be going.”

  She turned away, hoping Starr would follow. The teen fell into step with her.

  “Why didn’t you want Kipling to know about your parents?” Starr asked when they were out of earshot.

  “It changes things. People act differently when they know.”

  “They respect you more?”

  If only, Destiny thought. “Not exactly. They think they know me, because of them. And they don’t.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Sometimes.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DESTINY AND STARR arrived at Jo’s Bar for lunch. Destiny wasn’t sure what to expect. As a rule, she avoided bars. She didn’t drink all that much and certainly wasn’t looking to be picked up by a man. But Felicia’s lunch invitation offered a chance to get to know some of the women in town and fill part of the day—at least until it was time for the bands to start playing. A twofer in the win department.

  She was surprised to find the place was the antithesis of a traditional bar. There was lots of light, a high ceiling and soft, pastel-colored walls. The place was clean, the TVs tuned to what looked like shopping shows, and the background music was barely audible.