Private Affairs

by Tori Carrington

  “I’m sorry…I…”

  Agatha reached over and took her hand, pulling it over until it sat on her knee. “Look, Penelope, I know that you’ve got to be thinking about the past a lot. Hauling it back up to the present.”

  She concentrated on Thor.

  “I just wanted to tell you, it’s not the same.”

  It was exactly the same.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Because at least Palmer had said goodbye back then. Now…

  “I never got the chance to tell him,” she confessed without intending to.

  She felt her grandmother’s gaze on her profile.

  “He’s gone, and again, he doesn’t know.”

  “You understand that it’s the twenty-first century?”

  She looked at her.

  “There’s the invention of the cell phone. Computers. A whole slew of ways to find or contact someone. Used to be a person could drop off the edge of the earth. Not anymore. Wherever they go, they leave a digital trail.”

  Penelope didn’t say anything.

  “You want me to find him?”

  She laughed without humor. “For what?”

  “So you can tell him.”

  “Because he deserves to know,” she said, nodding her head.

  “No.” Her grandmother appeared slightly surprised. “Because you deserve to have help shouldering the responsibility you’ve born alone all these years.”

  18

  IT TOOK PALMER THREE DAYS to work out the legal logistics involved with breaking the contract with Philippidis. He put his head together with his Seattle attorneys, working late into the night, returning to his hotel room spent and numb.

  But, finally, he was free. Or as free as he was going to get. There might be some more legal haggling down the road, and Philippidis reserved the right to sue him, but his attorneys had found a couple of narrow loopholes, and even managed to work up an argument that couples used to annul a marriage.

  He’d gotten an annulment.

  The terminology amused Palmer, even as he tried to shake off the residue that had built up over the past few days.

  He’d picked up the phone to call Penelope on several occasions, but decided to wait to talk to her when he got back to Earnest. No matter how much he ached to hear her voice or share his news with her, he’d wanted to make sure everything was taken care of first.

  One favorable aspect of his stay was Caleb Payne. Seeing as his friend also had a woman in Earnest that he didn’t see nearly as much as he wanted to, he had plenty of time to catch a meal, a beer and a pickup game of b-ball.

  “You still can’t shoot for shit,” Caleb told him, easily grabbing the basketball after his misfire.

  Palmer guarded him, the rubber soles of their shoes squeaking against the polished wood floor at Caleb’s club. He threw his hands up to the right…Caleb shot from the left.

  “All net.”

  “Glad something’s going right in your life,” Palmer taunted.

  Caleb stopped cold in the middle of the court and he charged the hoop unchallenged.

  “Top that.”

  His friend accepted the ball, but rather than dribbling it, he stood staring at him. “Come again.”

  Palmer wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “I told you to top that.”

  Caleb gestured with his free hand. “Before that.”

  “What? About something going well in your life?”

  “Yes. That would be it.”

  Palmer straightened. “Just something to throw you off. All’s fair in love and basketball.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed.

  Damn. Palmer should have known better than to toss that little throwaway comment his friend’s way. Caleb had a way of getting to the bottom of anything he set his mind to.

  There was no way he was going to be the bearer of the bad news about his mother dating Manolis Philippidis. The way he saw it, he was saving his friend from life imprisonment. Because once Caleb found out, he would surely kill the Greek.

  “No. There’s more to it than that.” His frown was dark and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to continue the game until he got some answers.

  Palmer took the ball from him.

  “Is it something with Bryna? The Metaxas brothers?”

  He shot and hit, but there was little reward without Caleb’s participation. “What? No. Of course not.”

  “What is it then?”

  Palmer chuckled uneasily. He’d opened the can of worms. He was just going to have to serve them up as appetizingly as possible. “Have you spoken to your mother lately?”

  Caleb’s brows rose. “This is about my mother?”

  “I think you may want to ask her that.” Palmer bounced the ball in Caleb’s direction and he caught it. “And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

  His friend shot the ball at him rather than the basket. “You know, don’t you? You know who she’s seeing.”

  Palmer grimaced. “Come on. I need a shower.”

  Oh, he had no intention of telling his friend directly about his mother and Philippidis. But he knew that it wouldn’t take long for him to figure it out.

  And that was okay. Because Philippidis was a rat bastard. And he didn’t deserve a woman of Phoebe’s caliber. Besides, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. Well, at least any more than she had to. Because he had the feeling that lunch hadn’t represented their first date.

  At any rate, he had a list of problems of his own that he had to face. And face them, he would. Right after this shower and a good night’s rest he hoped would bring him clarity and direction.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING didn’t go as Palmer anticipated, with loose endings unraveling from his neatly rolled endeavors and demanding to be dealt with. The day was long, and he was tired when he finally rolled back into Earnest just before sunset. He thought about checking into the bed-and-breakfast again before doing anything else, then eyed the storm clouds gathering in the western sky.

  Finally, it appeared it was going to rain.

  He drew the car to a stop outside his father’s house and killed the engine, his gaze drawn to the house in which he’d grown up. Lights flickered inside, indicating that his father had likely taken his dinner in front of the television again. Grasping a bag of groceries he’d picked up just outside town, he got out of the car and stepped up the walkway. To his relief, the front door was open and the screen door was unlocked.

  He rapped on the outside then walked inside.

  “Evening, Pops,” he said.

  His father nearly fell out of his chair, tipping the TV tray on its side, sending a glass of milk arcing across the room.

  It seemed his father hadn’t left the door open by way of welcome; he’d thought he wasn’t coming back….

  THE PHONE PRACTICALLY RANG off the hook with the news that Palmer was back in town.

  Penelope cleaned up the table after dinner, purposely taking her time loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters as she listened to her grandmother and aunt alternately field calls that were motivated purely by gossip, no matter how much Agatha tried to argue differently.

  But despite her irritation at the intrusion, it felt like a swarm of fireflies lit her from the inside out, fluttering around her stomach and filling her with anticipation.

  He was back.

  She ignored the voice that asked, “how long, this time?” and instead focused on what she needed to do now that she had no excuse not to talk to him.

  “Daisy says he stopped at his father’s first,” her aunt shared, coming in to replenish her glass of lemonade as she took a break from the telephone. “But I don’t think things went well.”

  “How can you be sure?” Penelope folded and refolded the kitchen towel on the counter.

  “Because a neighbor reports that there was a lot of shouting and sounds of stuff breaking.”

  Penelope raised her brows. “Stuff?”

  “Well, obviously, it had to be glass
or something, or she wouldn’t have heard it.” Her aunt stopped for a moment. “Or it could have been wood. But why would anyone want to break wood?”

  “Why would anyone want to break anything at all?”

  “Good point.”

  Her grandmother came in. “I shut off the ringer so we can have a few minutes’ peace,” she said with a long sigh.

  “What’s the latest?”

  “He just checked back into Foss’s.”

  The two older women turned to look at Penelope.

  “What?”

  Surely, they didn’t expect her to go traipsing over there at this time of night?

  Yes, she realized, they did.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s waited this long, it can hold till morning.”

  “Or until he leaves again?”

  The bottom of her stomach dropped out at the easily said words. As though it wasn’t a matter of “if” he would leave again, but “when.”

  “If he’s checked in, he’s not going anywhere until morning,” she asserted.

  “Maybe,” her great-aunt said.

  “Maybe not,” her grandmother followed up.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, stop it already. I am not going over there.”

  Even the dog seemed to be staring at her expectantly as he sat at her feet.

  “Why not?” her grandmother wanted to know.

  Penelope waggled a finger at her. “You…I…” She heaved a sigh. “Don’t start, okay?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I’d stopped.”

  Thor barked and then went to the door and came back again.

  “It’s the heat,” her aunt said. “It’s getting to all of us, I think.”

  She began to leave the room.

  “Don’t turn on the air conditioner,” her grandmother called after her.

  “Who’s turning on the air? I’m plugging the phone back in. Given how stubborn the two of you are, nothing more’s going to happen in there.”

  Penelope stared at her grandmother as if to say, “See?”

  “That doesn’t make you right,” she said.

  “It doesn’t make you right either,” Penelope countered, aware of the ridiculousness of their tit-for-tat but unable to stop herself.

  Thor ran back and forth to the door again.

  “I’m going to sit out back with the dog,” she said.

  Her grandmother stepped in the direction of the door.

  Penelope held up her hand. “Alone. I’m going out there to sit alone.”

  “I thought you might want some company.”

  “I’ve had about all the company I can handle for one day, thank you very much.”

  She turned, nearly tripping over Thor. She pushed open the screen door with a screech of springs, waiting until he bounded out before following him.

  Penelope closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the heavy air. It smelled like rain.

  The dog was off like a shot, making a beeline for the gazebo. She squinted in that direction, wishing it were lighter so she could see better. She ended up seeing well enough as she made out a familiar shape outside.

  Palmer…

  19

  PALMER HAD HOPED THAT Penelope would come outside. And he knew a moment of profound relief when she stepped through the back door and onto the porch. The kitchen light illuminated her from behind, turning her light, summery dress almost translucent and spotlighting her soft, sexy curves.

  The thought of staying in his room at the B and B alone after what had gone down at his father’s was too much to bear. He was wound up, needed to talk to someone.

  And that someone was Penelope.

  “Hey, boy,” he said to the dog as he crouched down to scratch his ears.

  Penelope came to stand before him, her arms crossed in front of her as if she was in need of warming, although the temperature was still sweltering.

  He rose to his feet. “Hi.”

  He heard her swallow. “Hi.”

  Silence. And not of the comfortable variety either.

  He reminded himself that circumstances hadn’t been exactly ideal the last time they were together. The scene at Makeout Cove could have come straight out of an Owen Wilson movie.

  “Is everything…okay?” he asked.

  She blinked several times. “Okay? Define okay.”

  “With the sheriff.”

  Her face registered surprise. “Oh. Yes, um, he and I agreed that it’s better for everyone involved if we parted ways.” She looked over her shoulder toward the house. “Not that we were ever truly a couple. We dated awhile, but…”

  She looked back at him and scrunched up her face.

  “What are you doing here, Palmer?”

  It was his turn to look surprised. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

  She paced a short ways away and then came back. “I thought you were gone.”

  Funny, his father had believed the same thing. “I had to go to Seattle for a few days.”

  She nodded, but he wondered if she truly understood. “I heard the project was closed down.”

  “Yes.”

  She refused to meet his gaze.

  “Is this what this is all about? You thought since the site was closed down that I had left again?”

  She stared at him. “What? I should have believed differently?”

  “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, Penelope.”

  “How am I supposed to know that?”

  Restless energy filled him. He walked around her and then turned toward her again. “Because you know me.”

  “Do I? I thought I did once. But no longer.”

  “And what’s changed between now and then?”

  She searched his face and then looked away, appearing to bite her bottom lip.

  Then her eyes widened. “My God, what happened?”

  She neared him, lifting her hand to his right brow. She pressed her fingertips there and then looked at the bit of blood that covered them.

  Palmer grimaced. “My father’s way of welcoming me back.”

  A sound came from the direction of the house. They both looked to find the curtains on the back window fluttering. Penelope took his hand and led him inside the gazebo. He blinked when she turned on an overhead light.

  “When did you guys put that in?”

  “A couple years ago. Grandma was dating an electrician and she took full advantage. Hold still.”

  He hadn’t realized that he’d flinched away from her touch.

  “You need stitches.”

  “I need to have my head examined.”

  “Literally.”

  He stepped beyond her reach. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m serious, Palmer. You really should have that looked at.”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  They stood staring at each other for long moments. Then, finally, she flicked the switch again, sending them back into darkness.

  His eyes adjusted to the light change as he sat down on the cushioned bench and she did the same opposite him, much as they’d done that first night.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  His chest was tight. “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He shrugged and clasped his hands between his knees. “Not much to tell, really. I came back into town, stopped by my father’s to drop off some groceries and see how he was doing…” He gestured to his cut brow. “And this is what I got by way of thanks.”

  “He hit you?”

  He grimaced. “He tried to. I ducked the blow and he shoved me toward the door instead. I lost my footing and tripped over the meal he’d been eating and hit my head on the jamb.”

  “Neighbors said they heard things breaking.”

  Great. By now the entire town of Earnest knew what had gone down at his father’s.

  “Palmer?”

  He sat back and drew a deep breath. “Yeah. His, um, TV tray holding his dinner tipped over…”

  �
��On its own?”

  “No. He was so shocked to see me walk in, he knocked it over.”

  She reached across to touch his knee. He trapped her hand under his.

  She cleared her throat. “You know, there were a lot of those…accidents when we were in high school…”

  Palmer didn’t dare say a word.

  “Oh, you could pawn some of them off on football practice or tussling with the guys…but…” She tightened her grip on his knee. “But you can’t live in a town this small without someone knowing the truth.”

  No one had ever breathed a word of it to Palmer. He’d thought he was suffering his own private hell behind the closed doors of the DeVoe house.

  “My grandmother says that a couple of people tried to step in. The pastor. A neighbor. But your father wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “Christ,” Palmer said under his breath.

  “I’m…sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know until later, after you’d left. Had I…”

  “What would you have done?”

  “There had to be some sort of mechanism in place. Someone to be contacted.”

  “There was. The sheriff. But aside from warning my father, there was little else he could do.”

  Penelope fell silent.

  “It’s funny, but growing up, things were pretty normal. It wasn’t until I was in high school that it escalated. My mother…my mother tried to stop him. But once she died…”

  She gasped.

  “I thought that now…when I came back…that maybe, finally, things could be different.”

  He shook his head, remembering the scene at the house earlier.

  “I can’t believe that even at his age, he wanted to hit me. He nearly did more damage to himself than me.”

  “Palmer!” She took both his hands in hers, holding them tightly.

  “I don’t know, Penelope. I don’t know if I can handle it. Not now. Tonight I nearly raised my hand to him…”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “But you didn’t.”

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  Her shoulders seemed to droop in relief.

  “But the mere fact that I wanted to hit him…however briefly…it scared the hell out of me.”

  “I can understand that.”

  He turned his hands in hers, running the pads of his fingers over knuckles and smooth nails. “Can you? Because I can’t.”