by Beverly Long
But then, it seemed as if everything changed in an instant when she saw the positive reading on the pregnancy test one September morning. It was her senior year in high school. And she was having a baby.
She needed to get her act together.
And she’d been doing her best ever since.
There’d been rocky patches. Her mother’s death when she was just four months along. Losing the only home, such as it was, that she’d ever known.
But there’d been great gifts, too. Her grandmother had swooped in and given Daisy a new home. One filled with love. She’d taught Daisy how to care for a newborn. Then had pitched in with free babysitting so that Daisy could get her GED and attend college. Her grandmother and five-year-old Sophie had been in the audience the day she’d walked across the stage to get her bachelor’s degree.
Denver had been Nana Jo’s home for her entire life. There had been no way that she was leaving it. And no way that Daisy was leaving her when the tables turned and Nana Jo had no longer been able to live alone.
But now, everything was different.
“Home sweet home,” she whispered, pulling into the driveway. It did look rather sweet.
The very best part was that Jacob Posse was far, far away. And hopefully, if she was out of sight, she’d be out of mind. There’d be no more unsigned cards or gifts in the mail. No more random postings on social media that made it seem as if they were still together. No more insistence to anyone who would listen that the wedding was in the works.
She’d escaped a bullet or worse when she’d broken her engagement to Jacob. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Chapter 3
Blade had a silk scarf in his pants pocket, and he wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.
It belonged to her, to Daisy Rambler. When he and Parnell had carried Hosea Pratt out of the canyon, the ambulance from Bigelow Memorial Hospital had been waiting for them. They’d transferred Mr. Pratt from the stretcher into the ambulance, and there’d been a few minutes of information exchange between Blade and Parnell and the paramedics who were taking over responsibility while Mr. Pratt was in transit.
When that had finished, he’d turned around, expecting to see her. He realized that she’d reached her vehicle, started it, and he hadn’t noticed. But there, on the ground, was her silk scarf. Marcus had been there, too, and had reached for it, as well. Blade had lunged over him, picked it up as casually as he could, put it in his pocket and hadn’t said a word. Marcus had given him a funny look, and Blade had been sure that he’d been about to say something. But he’d checked himself for some reason, and Blade considered that a small miracle.
There was a procedure for turning in property to the Lost and Found.
But he wasn’t following it.
And for most of the day and night, in between a kitchen fire, a cardiac arrest, a fall off a curb and a domestic disturbance where the husband ended up with a bottle cut to the head, he’d ignored it. But now that it was morning and he was almost done with his shift, he was facing it squarely. He hadn’t turned the scarf in because he had a hankering to track down Daisy Rambler and return her scarf in person.
It was the neighborly thing to do. She was obviously new to Knoware.
His cell phone rang. “Hey, Marcus,” he said.
“What’s going on?”
“Not much. Getting ready to leave.”
“Hey, what did you ever do with that woman’s scarf?”
It had been unrealistic to hope he’d forget. The man had a memory like an elephant. Blade considered lying to him, but unfortunately that was a no-go. They’d been friends for too long. “I’m going to return it to her.”
“How? Do you know where she lives?”
“It’s Knoware. How hard can it be?”
“Still a hassle,” Marcus said. “Just turn it in. Or better yet, give it to Sheila for a Christmas gift next year.”
Marcus was never going to understand how he could still be friendly toward his ex after what she’d done. “I have to go,” Blade said.
“You’re into her,” Marcus said.
“Of course not,” Blade denied. “She’s obviously new to town. Maybe I can...hell, I don’t know. Maybe she’d like to know the best place to buy a loaf of bread or a carton of milk.”
Marcus laughed so loud and so long that Blade truly did consider hanging up on him.
“You want...you want to help her with her grocery shopping?” Marcus asked, once he had his breath back. “I saw her. I was there, remember. I know I wasn’t thinking about whether beef tips were on sale at Merritt’s Market.”
“Goodbye, Marcus.”
“No, wait. What was her name?”
He could pretend he didn’t know, but it wouldn’t take Marcus long to track down the report from the 911 call. “Daisy Rambler.”
“Okay. Meet me for breakfast at Gertie’s.”
He could say no. But he was hungry, he liked supporting Gertie’s during the off-season when sales were down and there was no place else he had to be on that particular Saturday morning. It was Raven’s weekend with her mom. “Twenty minutes,” he said and hung up.
Eighteen minutes later, he walked into Gertie’s. Greeted folks he knew, which was almost everybody, and slid into the booth opposite Marcus, who was not in uniform. Instead, he had on dark blue jeans that looked brand-new and a blue-and-white button-down. He was dipping a tea bag into a stainless-steel pot.
There were two other cups on the table, already filled with coffee. “I assume one is mine,” he said.
Marcus nodded. “And the other is his,” he said, pointing over Blade’s shoulder.
Jamie Weathers walked in, wearing a faded blue knee-length lab coat over an old polo shirt and worn jeans. He sat down and immediately reached for the creamers at the end of the table.
“Can I see it?” Jamie asked, after his first sip. “The magic scarf.”
Blade rolled his eyes and continued to drink his coffee. That answered the question of whether Marcus had filled Jamie in. He was grateful when Cheryl came up to take their order. Everybody greeted her warmly. The four of them had all been in the same graduating class. Now she had four kids and said her shifts at Gertie’s saved her sanity.
“Got it,” she said, once they’d all ordered.
Alone again, Marcus slid a piece of paper across the table. Blade picked it up. It was an address.
“That’s her,” Marcus said.
“How did you get this?”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “I have resources at my disposal that you don’t. And I used to date a woman who works at the electric company. Service was started in her name yesterday. No other name on the account.”
“Probably not married, then,” Jamie said.
“Could be living with someone,” Marcus countered.
“Shut up, both of you,” Blade said. “The woman dropped her scarf. It seems like a nice scarf. I think she’d like to have it back.”
“Of course,” Marcus said. “When you’re telling her where to buy her bread and milk, you might want to mention blue jeans. What she was wearing yesterday was not cool. Although, to be fair, she did look damn good in it.”
She had. And maybe that was all this was. Physical attraction. With his daughter at his house on most of his off days, his romances were few and far between. But since his divorce four years ago, he’d been mostly okay with that.
“I think it is unfair that the two of you have a head start on me with this,” Jamie said.
“It was terribly inconsiderate of Mr. Pratt to not be more injured so that you could have been summoned,” Blade said. “I think he’s still in the hospital. Perhaps you could sneak in and put air in an IV line just to get your revenge.”
Jamie shook his head. “Air in an IV. So pedestrian. I’d—”
Marcus held
up a hand. “Stop. I’m an officer of the law. I cannot hear these things.”
Cheryl picked that moment to deliver food, and they all dug in. As he chewed, Blade reflected on the likelihood that Marcus, Jamie and him, friends since first grade at Knoware Elementary, would end up back here. He’d been the only one who’d never left. The only one who’d married. Only one with a child. Only one divorced after his wife had found someone with a bigger bank account.
Jamie had left right after high school. Brilliant, he’d sailed through college, medical school and residency. And he wasn’t just book smart. He was good at everything. Kicking a soccer ball. Playing the sax. Flying his own small plane. Everybody assumed he’d end up at some prestigious teaching hospital. But he’d surprised them all when he’d enlisted and did a stint as an army doc. He’d been back in Knoware for only a year and was already running the Bigelow Emergency Department.
Postcollege, Marcus had participated in a domestic version of war, doing more than ten years with the Los Angeles Police Department. He’d been shot, knifed and once, during a domestic dispute, almost run over by a car. He’d always had catlike reflexes, which had probably saved his life on several occasions. He also had nerves of steel and significant brute strength, and Blade generally pitied the idiots who were fooled by his good manners and nice clothes.
“How’s the party planning coming?” Jamie asked, reaching for the jelly at the end of the table.
“Not that great,” Blade said, not looking up from his plate. Five weeks ago, he’d been told that he was the cochair of the Spring Spectacular, a dance to benefit the fire department. He’d managed to avoid that bullet in previous years, so now there was no getting out of it. Unfortunately, he was a cochair without a co. “We still don’t have a corporate sponsor, so I’ve pretty much just been winging it.” For years, one of the tech companies had stepped up, and there had been a thought that they would again. But at the last minute, new leadership had pulled the plug. “It’s getting pretty late in the game. The event is in three weeks.”
“I can put some pressure on the hospital,” Jamie said.
The hospital had its own fundraising events. It wasn’t likely.
“The woman I’m dating is a director at the bank,” Marcus said.
Blade shook his head. “You’ll have broken up with her by the event and that will be awkward.”
Marcus shrugged. “True. But we’ll still be friends.”
That was also probably true. “People above my pay grade are working on it. I’ve been told not to worry.”
“But you are,” Marcus said, not sounding a bit sympathetic.
There weren’t a lot of social events in Knoware during the off-season. As a result, the event was usually well-attended. If it was a mess, it would not reflect well on him but, more importantly, donations would be down and damn it, they needed that money. “Tickets are on sale, but I just heard that sales are slow.”
Jamie pushed his finished plate away. “Chin up, old man.”
He’d turned thirty-six three weeks ago. Jamie and Marcus were four months younger.
Jamie took one last sip of coffee and threw money down to cover his meal. “I’ve got paperwork calling my name.”
“I’m on nights,” Marcus said. “My bed is calling.”
That left just Blade.
His two friends looked at him expectantly. He held up the slip of paper that Marcus had given him. “I’m going to work on my scout badges and return some lost property.”
Marcus and Jamie gave each other a high five. “We’ll be expecting a full report,” Marcus said.
Blade tossed money down. He was trying to tamp his own expectations. But he couldn’t help being a little excited about the idea of seeing pretty Daisy Rambler again. There was no way that he was letting Marcus or Jamie know that.
“I’ll get that report in the mail,” Blade said. “You should get it...yeah, I’d say right about as hell is freezing over.”
* * *
Daisy woke up in her new house on Saturday morning when she heard a noise in her kitchen. A clang, perhaps. She listened. A knock. She was pretty sure that was a cupboard door. She sniffed. She was confident that was coffee. She reached for her phone to check the time. Eight thirty. Much later than she usually slept, even on the weekend. Much earlier than Sophie ever voluntarily got up.
Daisy swung her legs over the side of the bed. The wood floor was cold. She’d need to buy a rug. But other than a few touches here and there, the Cape Cod was really perfect for them. It had a living room and eat-in kitchen on the first floor, as well as her bedroom and a bath. There was a big two-story deck on the back side on the house, accessible by the back door in the kitchen and the slider in Sophie’s upstairs bedroom. Sophie also had a bath upstairs.
It was nine steps to the kitchen. Daisy smiled when she saw her friend Jane frowning at a mixing bowl. There was an open carton of eggs and a gallon of milk next to her.
“I lost count,” Jane said. The woman had spent the night on the couch after she and Daisy had finished the last of the wine they’d drunk to celebrate Daisy’s new digs.
Daisy hugged her. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast. But I’m warning you. I’m just not that good of a cook.”
“I don’t care. It’s about the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time,” Daisy said. She poured a cup of coffee. “What are we having?”
Jane looked at the clock and shook her head. “You and Sophie are having French toast and sausage, and I...well, I’m going to have to run. We’re prepping witnesses for this huge trial that’s starting on Monday. Biggest trial of my career.” She picked up a fork and started furiously mixing whatever was in the bowl.
The noise echoed in Daisy’s already throbbing head. She wasn’t much of drinker, and last night she’d been way over her limit. “Have you seen Sophie yet?”
Jane shook her head. “Today will be a better day,” she said. She’d been a witness to Sophie’s silent treatment the night before. The slam of the door after Daisy had made her once again surrender her cell phone. It was one of the many privileges that Sophie had lost recently. She’d gotten it back just temporarily yesterday in case there was an emergency during the move. “I hope so. The quiet is excruciating.” She stopped. “You know, when she was four and talked nonstop, I could never picture myself saying that.”
“Things will be good for you here. For both of you. Maybe you’ll even meet...”
“I’m not looking,” Daisy said.
“You made a mistake with Jacob Posse. You can’t swear off men forever.”
“Yes, actually I—” Daisy stopped when her doorbell rang. She was not expecting anybody. But perhaps it was her new landlord, stopping by to say hello. She went to the door and looked through the peephole.
“Who is it?” Jane asked.
Daisy whirled around. “It’s...it’s the paramedic from yesterday.” Over her third glass of wine, she’d given Jane the bare bones version of the story. When she mentioned the name Blade, Jane had jumped in. And fanned herself with a dirty paper plate, saying, “That would be Blade Savick. He is so hot.”
And maybe it had been the wine. “Married?” she had asked.
“Divorced, several years ago.”
And then maybe it had been the comfort of knowing that there was more than a thousand miles between her and Jacob. Whatever it was, for just a minute, Daisy had enjoyed a moment of wondering what if.
But now that it was morning and she was mostly sober, the whole idea scared the hell out of her. “What’s he doing here?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Jane said, smiling. “But why don’t you open the door and find out.”
The doorbell rang again. She hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet or combed her hair. But she couldn’t just keep standing here. She opened the door.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Uh... Blade Savick. We...uh...met yesterday. I mean, I don’t have any of my gear on. I wanted to make sure you recognized me.”
He was talking fast and she realized that he might be nervous. “I recognize you.” He looked very handsome in his brown bomber jacket, blue jeans and boots.
“I found this,” he said, pulling something from his pocket.
It was her scarf. She’d realized at some point during the day before that she no longer had it. “I thought it was just one more casualty of the day,” she said. “It’s...very thoughtful of you to bring it by.”
He was staring over her shoulder. “Hi,” he said to Jane.
“Good morning. I’m Jane. Your friend Marcus Price used to date a paralegal in my office.”
“Kelsie?” he asked.
Jane nodded.
“Nice woman. And really good in fantasy football. She kicked my...behind.”
“I’ll make sure she knows her reputation lives on. Anyway,” she said, looking at Daisy now, “I’m just leaving. I’ll run up and say good morning to Sophie before I go.”
Daisy nodded at her friend and turned to look at Blade. He was still standing on her porch. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure. Who’s Sophie?”
“My sixteen-year-old daughter.”
He jerked back. “I have a sixteen-year-old daughter.”
What were the chances of that? “Is yours talking to you?” she asked, then immediately regretted her impulsiveness. “Mine hasn’t since I told her we were moving to Knoware,” she said, knowing she needed to offer some explanation.
He shrugged. “Change is hard. Especially on kids. They—”
“Daisy.”
Jane was halfway down the stairs. And the look on her friend’s face scared her. “What?”
“Sophie isn’t here.”
That was crazy. Of course her daughter was upstairs. Where else could she be? There was no basement. She ran upstairs. Bed had been slept in, but it was now empty with the covers tossed carelessly aside. She ran across the hall to check the bathroom. Not even a dirty towel on the floor. Sink was dry.
