by Debra Kayn
Halfway to her car, she remembered her phone she'd left in the house. Hurrying back inside, after searching three rooms, she found the cell in her back pocket. She hated carrying the thing but there was no landline to the cabin, and with a show last week, she wanted to be available to the gallery owner in case any details were needed.
In the car, she gazed back at her house and smiled until the long gravel driveway took her out of view. She never thought she'd come back to Federal, but she'd reached the time where she wanted to take her career to a new level, and she found herself wanting to move back where she became the most motivated. On a whim, she contacted a local realtor in the area to find and approach the owner of the cabin with an offer.
The day the acceptance came, she let herself get excited. Now that her parents were living in Arizona, she could finally return to her home state without having them influence her life. She looked forward to living remotely and concentrating on her work.
It'd been twenty years since she graduated high school and moved away. People have come and gone in Federal, it wasn't like anyone would remember her unless she used her family name. But, she bought the house and opened the bank account under her artist name.
Jolene Shayne was long gone. She was simply Jo Smyth. The reclusive jeweler.
She turned the volume up on the stereo, shut the air conditioner off in the car, and lowered the window. Inhaling deeply, she let the clean, pine-scented air, rejuvenate her after a long day of unloading boxes.
A soft beep sounded, and the gas tank sensor flashed red on the dash. Slowing down in case that helped save gas, she headed straight to the gas station on the edge of town. Pulling in beside the pump, she stopped the car and found her debit card in her purse.
One step out of the car, she groaned. Her gas tank was on the other side of the vehicle. Glancing around, she exhaled and slid back into the driver's seat and turned the car around. Thankfully, no other customers were around to witness her mistake. She'd only had the car for a month, deciding she'd need an all-wheel drive to handle the snow. Winter came fast, and Northern Idaho was known for having snow for at least half the year. She'd need the reliable transportation to make it back and forth to town.
After sliding her debit card through the reader, she put the nozzle in her car and stepped back to let her tank fill. To her right, Federal Inn still used their old billboard to welcome specific guests for their stay. Apparently, the Starlight Festival was this upcoming weekend. She'd need to get her shopping done tomorrow and make sure she stayed out of town for the duration.
To her left, the North Fork river flowed, leaving town, and disappeared under the interstate. She crossed her arms and brought her attention back to the dollar sign growing higher on the pump. As long as she made a conscious effort to forget her previous life in Federal, she'd be fine. All she had to do was look for the changes. Like...she peered past the Inn. The tree in front of the library was twice as big, and the mural on the side of the high school had changed.
No doubt, Mr. Granger, the principal, was dead. He was ancient when she was in school.
The nozzle clicked off. She removed the hose from the tank and screwed on her gas cap. Brushing off her hands, she waited for the receipt to come out and found the read-out display telling her to go inside and see the cashier.
Her stomach growled. Grabbing her purse out of the car, she walked around the bumper and pushed through the front door. A bell jingled.
"I'll be right with you, honey," said a female voice.
Jo looked around the small convenience gas station, not seeing the woman who'd spoken. She grabbed two Ice Cube chocolate pieces out of the container and laid them on the counter, then dug a dollar out of her purse.
"Sorry about the wait." A slender woman wearing a red apron walked behind the counter. "It's delivery day, so when I get a break from the rush of customers, I like to stock the shelves."
Jo smiled and pushed the chocolate toward the cashier. "I'd like to get these, and I filled my car up with my debit card and the pump said to come in here for my receipt."
The woman sighed. "Let me ring you up, and then I'll get your receipt. The tech that keeps our equipment running is due in the morning to fix the problem. Most people don't want a receipt, so..."
"Sorry, but I do need a receipt." Jo grabbed her candy and her penny change and tossed everything in her purse. "Tax purposes."
The woman picked up the phone and turned her back toward Jolene. "Hey, I need a receipt for pump two."
Jo stepped away from the counter and looked over the selection of beef jerky, pondering if she bought three or four sticks it would count for dinner, and she could skip eating in town. Her personal quota on dealing with people for the week already met, she could go home and separate the garnets that were delivered yesterday. She'd put off opening the package, knowing once she got a glimpse, she'd spend all night peering at what would soon turn into perfection once she cut and polished the gemstones.
The cashier opened a carton of cigarettes and proceeded to put the packs above her head in the dispenser. Jo tapped her foot and looked out the door. How long could it take to print out a receipt?
She walked back to the counter, set her purse down, and took out a business card and a pen. "Never mind about the receipt. I'll just write down how much I spent and get out of your hair."
Her accountant was going to chew her out. A stickler for proper tax deductions, Jane Carrows, wanted receipts, framed and signed, when dealing with the IRS.
"Oh, here he is with your receipt," said the cashier, pointing behind Jolene.
Jolene turned around, reached out, and froze. She couldn't hear, breathe, think. Imploding inside, her muscles lost their fight or flight tendencies. Maybe the man holding the receipt wouldn't recognize her.
She barely recognized him. Gasping, she swallowed her shock. That wasn't true.
He was different.
He was bigger.
He was more intense.
He had a beard with some gray.
But, it was her Caiden. Caiden Hall. The man who she'd lost her virginity to and had changed her life forever. The man who'd gone to prison for murder when she was at her happiest. The man she hadn't seen in twenty years and had thought about every day since.
Wearing a pair of Levis that hugged his solid thighs, a flannel shirt that was unbuttoned one too many holes to be considered appropriate, Caiden stood in front of her looking right through her with stormy, gray eyes that gave nothing away.
Cold.
Impersonal.
Hers.
"You either want the receipt, or you don't." Caiden held the piece of paper between his index and middle finger.
His gaze challenged her, dared her, mocked her. She reached blindly behind her, grabbed her purse, and walked out the door without her receipt.
She fell into her car, started the engine, and gunned the accelerator. The next thing she was aware of was pulling to a stop in front of the cabin. She stared out the windshield. Caiden Hall.
He was supposed to be long gone. What was he doing back in Federal?
