Rob cleared his throat. Met his wife’s eyes and said, “Whisper in My Dreams?”
“Yes. Would you like to tell my sister about the glamorous life we were living when we wrote that song?”
“We wrote it at three o’clock in the morning, with my beat-up old Gibson, at the kitchen table in that sleazy apartment upstairs over Freddy Wong’s Chinese restaurant in the Village. I was working three jobs to keep us afloat, and the middle of the night was the only time we could get together and write. It was 97 degrees outside, and 114 inside. We were working by candlelight, because the electric company’d just cut us off. Sticky and sweaty and miserable, and we couldn’t even use a fan to cool off. I was wearing cut-offs and nothing else. Hell, I would’ve been working naked if you hadn’t been Danny’s wife. It was that hot. You weren’t wearing much more than that, just enough for the sake of modesty. We were eating ice cream while we worked. It was the only thing left in the refrigerator, and without electricity, it wouldn’t have lasted long. Danny was asleep on the couch—which was where I usually slept—because your bedroom was unlivable in that kind of heat. The whole damn apartment was unlivable in that kind of heat. I don’t seem to remember any roaches that night…it might’ve been one of the rare occasions when Freddy broke down and paid for an exterminator. Or maybe even the cockroaches were laying low because of the heat. Not that it mattered. By that time, we were so used to ‘em that when they crawled across the kitchen table, we just swatted the little bastards onto the floor.” He met Casey’s eyes, and something passed between them, something Colleen didn’t understand but could clearly see. Softly, he said, “How far are we going with this?”
“I believe full disclosure would be appropriate.”
Uncertainty lit his face. “You sure?”
Casey nodded, and he drew in a breath. “Okay, then. This was after Danny cheated on you, but before you found out about it.”
Softly, she said, “But you knew.”
“But I knew, and things were pretty awkward between us at that point. You knew something was wrong, and I wasn’t telling you what it was. I’d never kept anything from you before.”
Something had changed. It was as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Casey and her husband were gazing at each other, and Colleen might as well have been invisible. Quietly, he said, “This was before the separation, before the abortion that never happened, before you lost Danny’s baby in a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor.” He stopped, reached out a hand, touched his wife’s cheek. And said hoarsely, “Why the hell are we dredging all this back up?”
Casey took his hand in hers, turned it, and kissed his palm. “Don’t worry about me, MacKenzie. I’m tough as nails.”
“Are you? Well, I’m not.” He turned to Colleen, who was one part mesmerized, one part horrified. “There’s your glamorous life,” he said. “It’s called paying your dues. And we did it. In spades.” To his wife, he said, “I’m tired. I’m going up to bed.”
And he turned and stalked out of the room.
“Damn,” Colleen said. “I really stepped in it, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to start anything.”
“It’s not your fault. He’ll be fine. He gets touchy about certain subjects. He builds up a head of steam, and then he blows. That was all a long time ago, but sometimes he forgets that. We loved each other, even then. Not the way we do now, but even back in the early days, we would’ve walked through fire for each other. We had this three-person dynamic going for years and years, and then Danny died, and we both had to find our way without him. Rob and I have talked it to death, but he still has trouble with it sometimes.”
“I honestly had no idea you were living like that. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Casey studied her without blinking. “Think about it, Colleen. When was the last time we actually felt like sisters?”
Guilt, like a dark, painful splotch of blood, blossomed inside her chest. “Before Mama died.”
“Well, there you have it.” Casey walked to the stove, picked up the tea kettle, and moved to the sink. “You didn’t confide in me, I didn’t confide in you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes. So am I.” Her sister filled the kettle, placed it back on the burner, and switched on the stove. Turned and combed slender fingers through her dark hair. “Tell me more about Irv.”
Colleen ran a finger along the rim of her teacup. “Irv was a stand-up guy. He had a heart the size of Texas. I loved him.” She paused, lost in thought. “Not in that heart-hammering, shake-you-to-your-foundations way. But in a sweet, tender way that felt so right. I would have trusted him with my life. He was smart, and funny, and sexy, and he cared about me in a way nobody else ever did. Even when he was dying, he kept telling me that I was strong and smart and I’d be fine without him. That no matter what happened, I’d manage to land on my feet. I suppose he was right.” She swiped at an aggravating tear that trailed down her cheek. “It’s been six months, and I’m still upright and walking. I loved him, and I miss him. But I’m still here. Still surviving.”
The kettle whistled. Casey turned off the burner, poured hot water into her teacup, and said, “Sister to sister: Why are you here?”
The hackles rose on the back of her neck. Glaring at Casey’s back, she said, “What do you mean, why am I here? I grew up here, just like you did. I have a right to come home, don’t I? It’s not my fault that Dad sold the farm and nobody bothered to tell me. If you don’t want me in your house, just say so. I’ll be glad to—”
“Oh, for the love of God, Colleen, stop being so prickly. If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve said so. I want to know why you came home the way you did, driving that old beater of a car. I know Irv had money. So why are you here, at Casa MacKenzie, instead of at some posh hotel in Portland?” Casey calmly dipped her tea bag up and down. Said, “Hand over your cup, I’ll give you a refill.”
Her fingers reluctantly released the cup, and she watched as her sister poured hot water over her limp tea bag. It had been an extraordinary day, one in which a number of her illusions had been shattered. Maybe it was time to raise the white flag and call a truce.
Casey handed her the cup. Their eyes met, and Colleen raised her chin. “If you must know,” she said, “I’m broke. Irv’s kids tossed me out of the house and changed the locks.”
Eyebrows raised, Casey leaned against the counter, teacup in hand, and considered her words. “How broke?”
She took a deep breath, pride and shame warring inside her. Casey would never know how much courage it took to speak the words aloud. “Broke as in I have about twelve bucks to my name.” She sat back and waited for her sister to pass judgment.
Instead, Casey nodded slowly. “That’s pretty broke. What happened? You were Irv’s wife. Unless you had a prenup, you’re entitled to half of everything he had. Even without a will.”
“Oh, there was a will. Irv left everything to me. His kids are pissed, and they’re contesting the will, and I’m too tired to fight.”
“Colleen, if he left it to you…”
“I don’t want it. The house, the money. I don’t want any of it. We were only married for a year. I’m the interloper here. The kids have every right to be furious. It’s their inheritance. All I ever wanted was their father, and he’s gone. But they refuse to believe that.”
“But based on what you’ve told me about Irv, he would have wanted you to be taken care of.”
She shrugged and swished her tea bag around. “I’ll land on my feet. I’ll get a job.”
“Doing what?”
She snorted. “In this one-horse town? Who the hell knows? I could probably get a job pumping gas down at Charlie’s Citgo. I certainly got enough field experience driving up from Florida.”
Dryly, Casey said, “I hate to burst your bubble, but Charlie’s closed down two years ago.”
“Charlie finally packed it in and retired? Well, then, good for him.” She raised her cup in salutation. “There goes my illust
rious career down the drain, before it even got started.”
Casey said, “I might be able to help you in the job department.”
Colleen raised her chin. “Please don’t treat me like a welfare case. It’s bad enough that I have to depend on your charity to have a bed to sleep in tonight.”
“Oh, get off your high horse. It’s not welfare. I’m your sister. Family takes care of family.”
“Right.”
“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get a job and a place to live, and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as humanly possible. I’ll pay you back for the bed and board, and—”
“Damn it, Colleen, if you weren’t taller than me, I swear to God I’d take you over my knee and spank you. What I was about to say, before you went postal on me, was that we’re looking for a studio assistant. The job is temporary. Ali’s been working for us. Billy’s wife? But she just gave birth to twins, she was off her feet for the last six weeks of the pregnancy, and now that she’s given birth, she’ll be on maternity leave for another three months. Things are a mess out there right now, and Rob won’t let me near it. Probably afraid I’ll find out just how disorganized he really is. As if I didn’t already know. So you’d really be helping us out. We need somebody, and we need them soon, before all that piled-up paper tips over and smothers my husband.”
Colleen swallowed back the retort that wanted to come out of her mouth. Three months. She needed a job, and she could handle three months. “And I’d be doing what?”
“Answering the phones, keeping Rob’s calendar, scheduling appointments. Local musicians have started to discover us, and they’re renting studio time. We need somebody to keep track. Filing. Running errands. Making our travel arrangements when we go out of town. Showing the VIP treatment to any VIP who comes calling.” Casey crossed her arms over her chest. “Other duties as assigned.”
Dryly, she said, “Do other duties include making coffee? Because I make really bad coffee.”
“Look, nobody’s forcing you to do anything. If you want to walk back out that door right now, I won’t try to stop you. But if you want to quit being a brat and act like a sister for once, I can help you out of this mess you’ve found yourself in. I can give you a job, and your own apartment. So you can be independent, and you won’t have to talk to your sister unless you want to.”
“I never said I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“No. You didn’t say it.”
This wasn’t the way she’d intended for this conversation to go. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m a little stressed right now.”
“Understandable. Do you want to hear about the apartment or not?”
“What’s the point? I don’t even have the money to buy toilet paper for the bathroom.”
“That’s inconsequential. I’ll give you a loan. You can pay me back a little at a time. The apartment’s upstairs over the studio. Brand-new everything, and it’s sitting there empty. You’re welcome to it. We’ll negotiate rent, once you’re working and can put together a budget.”
“I feel like a leech. I don’t like that feeling.” And I don’t want to be beholden to you.
“Get over it.” Casey glanced at the clock. “Do you want to go look at it?”
“At this time of night?” The look on her sister’s face stopped her in her tracks. Colleen exhaled. Said brusquely, “Fine.”
“Fine. You can talk to Rob tomorrow about the job.”
“Shouldn’t he weigh in about the apartment, too?”
“We already discussed it. But if you want the job, you’ll have to approach him about it.” Casey opened the coat closet and tossed Colleen her jacket. “I’m willing to help you,” she said, pulling on her own jacket, “but some things, you’re going to have to do for yourself.”
Casey
In the darkness of their bedroom, Casey peeled off her clothes, folded them, and laid them neatly on the chair near the bed. Lifting the covers, she slipped between cool Egyptian cotton sheets and followed a trail of warm body heat across the king-size mattress until she found her husband. Pressing herself close against his backside, she wrapped an arm around his ribs and let out a lingering sigh.
From the darkness beside her, his voice said, “You okay?”
“She pushes my buttons.”
“No kidding.” He rolled onto his back and folded an arm around her. “Just say the word, babydoll, and I’ll march downstairs and toss her out on her keister.”
She let out a soft snort and rested her head against his chest. “Oh, stop. You’re such a wiseass.”
“I’m serious. I have to defend my lady’s honor.”
“My honor doesn’t need defending, thank you. She just frustrates me to no end. She’s so damn prickly. Everything I say or do sets her off.”
“If having her here is going to add stress to your life, I’d rather see her gone.”
“Everybody’s life is stressful.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’d forgotten that we can’t manage to be in the same room without irritating each other. It’s been that way ever since Mama died. You’d think we’d have outgrown it by now. We’re both pushing forty.”
“I’m serious. If having her here will raise your blood pressure and your stress level, it’s not worth the risk.”
“I’m not a hothouse flower, MacKenzie. Don’t treat me like one.”
He rolled away from her and switched on the bedside lamp, and she blinked at the sudden brightness. “No,” he said, “you’re not. But you are thirty-seven years old and in the first trimester of pregnancy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m healthy as a horse.”
He squared his jaw. “Except for that tiny little detail about elevated blood pressure.”
“You heard what Dr. Levasseur said. It’s only mildly elevated, and that’s common during pregnancy.”
“She also said she didn’t want to see it go any higher.”
“And it won’t. I promise. We’re monitoring it closely. You worry too much. Listen…I showed Colleen the apartment.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Watching his eyes, she said, “We came to an agreement. I also offered her a job. Just until Ali gets back from maternity leave.”
A narrow line bisected his forehead. “Is that a good idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea. She’s smart and quick, and she’ll make the ideal assistant. Besides, what else is she supposed to do in this town? You need somebody to keep you in line, and she needs to earn a living and get back on her feet. Looks to me like a marriage made in heaven.”
“I’m still not convinced, but she’s your sister. This is your call. I’m staying out of it.”
“Au contraire, my friend. I told her that if she’s interested in the job, she has to talk to you about it. I want her to have to work for what she wants. And let’s be honest. You’re the one who’ll be her boss.”
“Wrong. We’re partners. She’ll be working for you, too.”
“Of course. That’s why you won’t let me touch a thing on your desk. You might as well admit it, MacKenzie. The studio’s your baby.”
“You,” he said, reaching up to turn out the light, “are my baby. The studio is what keeps me off the streets and out of jail.”
“And a good thing for all of us that it does.”
“Hush,” he said, tugging her close and wrapping those long limbs around her. “Time to sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow will be an interesting day.”
Harley
Wellness visit and physical exam. Check. Cleansing of paw injury and antibiotic prescription to heal the infection. Check. Shots for rabies, distemper, kennel cough. Check. Worm medicine, flea and tick meds. Check. Flea dip, shampoo, clipping of hair and nails. Check. Collar, leash, and fifty-pound bag of the most expensive dry dog food in the galaxy. Check. As Dr. Raleigh’s receptionist ran his American Express c
ard through the machine, Harley said dryly, “This reminds me of when my ex-wife used to spend the day at some exclusive spa. It cost about the same as this, but she never came out looking as good as Ginger, here.”
The woman smiled and handed him back his card. “She looks wonderful, Mr. Atkins. Now that she’s been clipped and groomed, you can see that noble and beautiful face. I’d say there’s some Airedale in her. Along with some—”
“Brontosaurus?”
“Well, I was going to say English sheep dog, but brontosaurus is close enough.” She efficiently tore his credit card receipt from the printer, plunked it down on the counter in front of him, and fished in the jar for a pen. Her voice grew syrupy as she peered over the counter. “She’s a good girl, yes, she is. Yes, she is!”
Standing obediently beside him, wearing her new purple leash and collar, Ginger tentatively wagged her tail. When he was through signing his life away, Harley put the pen back in the jar, handed the receptionist the original receipt, and pocketed his copy. She thanked him, and he returned the sentiment, wondering as he did so why he always felt compelled to thank the person into whose hands he’d just placed a significant portion of his hard-earned cash. It had to be a Southern thing. All that early training from his momma had apparently paid off. Somewhere up in heaven, she was nodding her approval of his flawless manners. “You ready, Skeeziks?” he said to Annabel.
His daughter rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve years old, Dad. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling me that?”
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t keep remindin’ me of that fact.”
Outside the veterinary clinic, he carried the massive bag of dog food to the mud-splattered Chevy pick-up parked at the curb, opened the tailgate, and tossed it in. He was just closing the gate when he saw them come out of the bank and start across Main Street. The Bradley sisters. Against his better judgment, he paused to watch them, two damn fine-looking women in form-fitting designer jeans. Except for a discrepancy in height—Casey was petite, about five feet tall, while her sister was a long, cool woman—they looked as alike as two peas in a pod. But the similarity ended there, for one of them was warm and nurturing, while the other was cool and aloof.
Redemption Road: Jackson Falls Book 5 (Jackson Falls Series) Page 4
