by Brenda Novak
Despite himself, Preston chuckled. “My job doesn’t require a suit.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a day trader. Day traders wear whatever they want.”
“What’s a day trader?”
“Someone who often loses his shorts,” he grumbled.
“Like me and Mom?”
Preston’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. “Never mind.” He returned to the article he’d been reading on Drawdown Reduction Methods, but by the time he reached the third paragraph, Max was nudging him again.
“What are you doing now?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Working?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.” Max left his side to bounce on the beds, but the noise and activity got on Preston’s nerves almost as badly as the boy’s constant questions.
“I’m hungry,” he announced a few seconds later.
“Stop jumping on the bed,” Preston said.
“But I’m hungry.”
Preston could tell Max thought those two simple words would be enough to drag him from his computer, but it wasn’t even noon yet, and the boy had eaten plenty for breakfast. “You’ll live until lunch.”
“I need to eat.”
Preston gave up on the article—it was too technical for right now when he had a five-year-old tapping his thigh every minute or so—and clicked back onto the Wall Street Journal. He generally had no trouble making money on the Internet, but he’d had a run of bad luck this week—he glanced over at Max—in more ways than one.
“Sorry, pal. It hasn’t been that long since breakfast, and we don’t have any food in here. We’ll grab some lunch later.”
“If we can’t eat, can we go swimming?”
Preston didn’t answer. He wanted Emma to walk through the door, and he wanted her to do it now. Enough was enough. He wasn’t good with kids, not since his son’s death.
Crossing to the room’s only phone, Preston called his cell again, but it went straight to voice mail.
“I’ll give you a million bucks if you’ll take me swimming.” Max gazed up at him with round, pleading eyes that reminded Preston of a puppy’s.
“You don’t have a million bucks.” Preston hung up and redialed.
“My mom will pay you when she gets back.”
Preston thought of the kind of remuneration he’d like to receive from Emma and experienced an immediate physical reaction. “If she felt excited about paying up, I just might do it,” he muttered.
“I’ll tell her to write you a check.”
His call went to voice mail again. Why wasn’t she answering?
“Pul-leeze?” Max persisted.
With a frustrated sigh, Preston hung up. There was no help for it. This poor kid was going stir-crazy; he needed to get out. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Let me make one more call, then we’ll hit the pool.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Preston said, and called the front desk.
“Do you know anything about the cell coverage in this town?” he asked when the operator answered.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve used my cell a time or two, so I know it works here in Ely, but—”
“Oh, you’re talking about cell phones,” she said. “I’m afraid the coverage is pretty spotty. From what I hear, some networks do better than others, so whether it works or not depends on your service.”
That explained it. “Thanks,” he said. For good measure, he tried Emma again but couldn’t get through to her. And when Max started running around the room, jumping from bed to bed, chanting, “We’re going swimming, we’re going swimming,” Preston decided to give up. He left Emma a note, in case she missed seeing them out front when she returned. Then he took Max and his laptop to the pool.
CHAPTER TEN
ONCE INSIDE Garnet Mercantile, Emma quickly flipped through several blouses on the clearance rack. She typically wore a size four, but there weren’t a lot of smaller sizes.
“Can I help you?”
A heavyset, fiftyish woman smiled when Emma glanced up. Her badge read “Ruby.”
“Yes, please. I need a short-sleeved shirt to go with these khaki shorts.” Emma held up the shorts she’d already found on sale for fifteen dollars. Fortunately, most of the summer clothes had been discounted to make room for fall merchandise. She’d been able to find Max three pairs of shorts and matching T-shirts for about ten bucks each.
Ruby frowned. “Aren’t those shorts you’ve got made by Bayside?”
Previously, Emma hadn’t looked at anything but the size and the price, but she checked now. “Yeah. Bayside.”
“Have you tried them on?”
She shook her head and kept digging, her thoughts distilling into a brief mantra: Shirts and shorts. Pay and go. She’d been gone more than an hour already. Max had to have lunch soon.
“You might want to do that,” Ruby said.
In her worry, Emma had lost the thread of the conversation. “Do what?”
“Try on those shorts. They run small. Generally, I can squeeze into a sixteen. But not in those babies.”
Given this information, Emma decided to play it safe. What good would it do her to purchase a pair of shorts that didn’t fit? “Then could you help me find a six?”
“There is no six. That’s the last pair we’ve got. Actually, those were a return. Someone bought them without knowing the line runs small. That’s why they’re marked down.”
“I see.” Quickly weighing the time she’d need to find another pair against the time it’d take to try on the shorts she already held, Emma opted for the dressing room because it was empty and close by.
“Don’t you want to find a shirt before you go in there?” Ruby called after her.
“Grab me something,” she called back.
“My, my, aren’t we in a hurry,” she heard Ruby mutter. Then, louder, “How about something in bright orange? If that doesn’t say ‘look at me’ I don’t know what does.”
Emma grimaced. Orange was her least favorite color—and she certainly didn’t want to draw attention to herself. “I was thinking something understated, maybe in white. Or black, if you have it. Black would match my sandals.”
“Conservative. I see how it is.”
Ruby said conservative as though it meant boring. Emma might have chuckled, except she was growing too frantic to react to anything unrelated to her goal. The minutes were ticking away. Steadily. Inexorably. At this rate, she’d have to jog back to the motel.
Pulling the shorts on over her swimsuit, she quickly zipped and buttoned, then breathed a sigh of relief. She’d lost weight lately. A little too much. But at least they fit.
She was about to take them off when Ruby stuck her head through the curtain that was supposed to provide a modicum of privacy. “What about this?”
Emma stared at the white, sleeveless sweater tank top Ruby shoved at her, surprised that Ruby had come up with something she liked.
“It isn’t marked down,” Emma said, checking the price.
“Honey, there’s nothing on that sale rack you’re gonna like. Conservative stuff don’t generally go on sale around here. Neither does western wear, but don’t get me going on how badly this town needs a fashion makeover.”
The shirt was thirty-five dollars, much more than Emma wanted to spend. But at the moment, she was too frantic to be concerned with price. “I’ll take it.”
“Well, try it on first,” Ruby said as if talking to an errant child.
The salesclerk started to leave, but Emma caught her arm. She was about to say she didn’t need to try it on. She wanted to give Ruby her purchases so Ruby could ring them up. But a voice she’d hoped never to hear again reached her ears at the same moment, making the words catch in her throat.
“Excuse me, have you seen this woman?”
It was Manuel. Emma was sure of it. And he wasn’t far away.
“I think Ruby was helping her,” came the answer.
“Don’t let him know I’m here,” she whispered fiercely. “Please.”
Standing half in and half out of the dressing cubicle, Ruby blinked, but Emma didn’t have the chance to say more. She shrank back as Manuel spoke again, because this time he was right outside the fitting room area.
“Excuse me, Ruby, is it?”
Emma hugged the far wall as Ruby closed the curtain and walked onto the sales floor. “Yes?”
“That lady over there said you might have seen this woman in the past several minutes.”
There was a long pause, during which Emma assumed Ruby was busy studying a picture. “I’ve seen her, all right. She your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Was she supposed to meet you here or somethin’?”
“To be honest, she’s probably not expecting me. But I need to talk to her. It’s very important, maybe even a matter of life or death.”
Emma felt her panic rise. Manuel was so handsome, so polished, so credible. People generally believed what he said. Life or death…Would Ruby fall for it?
“Whose life are we talkin’ ’bout?” Ruby asked.
Manuel’s voice dropped, and Emma knew from experience that he was working to create the illusion of intimacy. “Our son’s.”
“Ya’ll have a son?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see no boy with her.”
“If I find her, I’ll find him.”
“I see.”
“Can you help me?” he asked.
Of course she could, Emma thought. What woman wouldn’t spill all when she’d been told a little boy’s life hung in the balance?
Forcing her rubbery legs to move, Emma crept toward the curtain and peeked through the crack. There was no way she could slip out unnoticed. The slightest movement would draw his eye.
“I’d love to help you, to save your little boy and all,” Ruby said, “but I’m afraid your wife walked out just before you got here. If you hurry, maybe you can catch her.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open.
“Which way did she go?” Manuel asked.
Emma peered out once more to see Ruby shake her head. “Wish I could tell you, but I was too busy mindin’ my own business.”
Manuel hesitated as though trying to interpret the tone of Ruby’s voice. “How long ago did she leave?”
Was that skepticism she heard? Emma prayed it wasn’t. Believe her. Believe her and go.
“Oh…maybe five minutes.”
“Thank you, señora.”
“That’s señorita,” she corrected.
“Señorita, then,” he replied. His voice told Emma nothing about what he was thinking or feeling. But he left.
No longer able to remain standing, Emma let go of the breath she’d been holding and sank onto the plastic chair in the corner.
Several minutes later, Rudy slid the curtain aside. “He’s gone.”
Damp with perspiration, Emma pulled the front of Preston’s T-shirt away to keep it from clinging to her body. “Thank God. Thank you.”
Concern showed in Ruby’s dark eyes. “You’re white as chalk, girl. You okay?”
“I think so.” Emma wiped her upper lip, then managed a smile. “Why’d you help me?”
“Because I’ve never seen such a desperate expression in all my life as the one on your face when you heard that man’s voice.” Ruby propped her hands on her wide hips and gave Emma the once-over. “Besides, I didn’t like him much. Seemed to think I should do ’bout anything he wanted. Bit too oily for my tastes, if you get my meaning—thinkin’ I’m gonna swoon at his feet with all that señora stuff. I guess he figured I was some kinda fool.”
For once, someone had been able to see through Manuel. It was a good omen, a godsend. Emma felt her lips curve in a weak grin. “I could never thank you enough.”
Ruby started to gather up the merchandise Emma had dropped on the floor when Manuel had arrived. “You gonna try on that top now?”
Chuckling, Emma shook her head. “No, I’ll take my chances with the fit. I’ve got to go.”
“Go?” Ruby held the garments she’d already recovered to her ample bosom. “Girl, he could be standin’ right outside on the street. I didn’t lie to that man just to have you go waltzing out of here and straight into his arms.”
Ruby was right. Quite likely, Manuel was still close by. But Emma couldn’t wait. “I have to get back to my son,” she said. “He needs to eat. Right away.”
A threatening expression darkened her face. “You didn’t leave no child alone…”
“No, of course not. He’s with…a friend.” She had no idea whether she could really call Preston a friend. He was a handsome, mysterious stranger. But somehow she trusted him.
“Well, you gettin’ caught won’t see your son eatin’ any earlier, will it?”
Ruby didn’t understand the urgency of the situation, but explaining wasn’t going to change anything.
“No.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one.”
“How’d you get here?”
“I walked.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t come in to work today. When that alarm went off, I told myself, Ruby, this here’s gonna be too fine a day to spend on your feet in a pair of panty hose. But I’m a responsible worker, see. I couldn’t cancel out at the las’ minute.”
Emma searched her purse for Preston’s phone. She needed to check on Max. Then maybe she could breathe normally again. “Well, I, for one, am glad you came to work today.”
Ruby scowled as she watched Emma punch in numbers. “That cell phone won’t do you any good in here,” she said. “This building’s in a bad spot.”
She was right; Emma couldn’t get the call to go through. “Is there a back door?”
“A back door? Of course. But it has an alarm. Listen up.” Ruby glanced at her watch. “In half an hour, Jackie comes in. As soon as she does, I can go to lunch. You stay in here until then, and I’ll give you a ride to wherever your son is.”
When Emma didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Considerin’ you’re hidin’ out in the fittin’ rooms, I don’t think you’re gonna get a better offer.”
The ride Emma appreciated. It was the wait that bothered her. Half an hour…and she couldn’t even call Preston to reassure herself about Max.
She shoved the useless phone into her purse. It’d be one o’clock by the time she reached the motel. Two hours after she’d left, not one. But she couldn’t walk and get there much faster. And she was probably agonizing over nothing. Stress, anxiety or extra activity could cause Max’s glucose levels to fall. But he was sitting in front of the television. That wouldn’t raise his stress level or burn many calories.
“Well?” Ruby said. “Should I go ring these up and come for you when I can?”
“Yes. But first, will you please call the Starlight Motel and tell a man named Preston Holman that he needs to feed my son? Tell him you’re calling for Emma.”
“I can do that.” Ruby’s panty hose rubbed as she moved away.
Emma remained in the dressing room. Five minutes later, the salesclerk returned, but she wasn’t smiling.
“No one answered.”
“Are you sure you called the right number?” Emma said.
“Positive. I tried it three times.”
Where were Preston and Max? Was something wrong?
Emma didn’t know. But she didn’t have any options. All she could do now was pray.
“I’LL RACE YOU to the other side,” Max said.
Preston flung the wet hair out of his face. He’d planned to continue working while Max swam. But a silent bystander didn’t appease Emma’s active five-year-old. Max wanted someone to keep him company. Every five seconds, he’d climb
out of the pool and pad over to Preston. “Don’t you want to swim with me? What about the Jacuzzi? I’ll get in the Jacuzzi with you if you want…. My mom likes the Jacuzzi ’cause it’s warm…. Watch me dive…. Watch me do a somersault…. Watch me walk on my hands…. Preston? Are you watching? Here I go….”
Finally, Preston had grown so frustrated with the constant stream of interruptions, he’d given up trying to work and dived into the pool. Now he and Max weren’t just swimming, they were playing games and staging contests.
Max held up his hand. “On your mark—”
“Whoa,” Preston interrupted. “Aren’t you tired?”
“No.”
“We already raced to the other side.”
“So? You beat me.”
“That means we do it again?”
“Uh-huh.” Max grinned as he nodded.
“Until when?”
“Until I win!”
Preston drained the water from his ear. “I see your tactic.”
“What’s a tactic?”
“A plan of attack.”
“Oh. Well, this time you have to keep one hand behind your back,” Max said, as if that was the most difficult challenge ever devised.
Preston arched his eyebrows so he’d look properly challenged. “I already gave you a huge lead.”
“Chicken!” Max began to make cackling noises.
Preston hated to admit it, but Emma’s son was one heck of a cute kid. He was solid and well-built, expressive, almost always happy. Preston didn’t want to like him. But there were moments when he couldn’t help himself. “All right. If you’re so confident you can take me, let’s give it a shot.”
Hiding a smile, Preston waited for Max to position himself. “On your mark, get set, go!”
Max started off with a splash and swam for all he was worth. Preston waited until he’d reached midway, then kicked off, being careful not to overtake him. When he came up for air at the other end, Max was already there, as orchestrated.
“I told you I could beat you!” he said. He was hanging on to the edge, looking like a drowned rat, but he was wearing a huge grin.
“Good job,” Preston said, wiping the water out of his eyes.
“Now let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.”
