by Anna Adams
MITCH ESPY CAME around his desk to take a check from Patrick’s hand. Every so often Lisa called Mitch with a request for money. Blackmail. As long as Patrick paid her, she stayed away from Honesty. And Will.
“Don’t worry.” Mitch laid a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “If Lisa comes back, we’ll be ready for her.”
“She’ll be back. Don’t think for a moment she won’t. Just come up with a cogent argument for the day she takes us back to court. I’ll never allow her to be alone with Will again as long as I live.”
Mitch nodded. “I understand, but no judge in his right mind will allow her visitation until she takes care of the problem.” He waved the check. “This will keep her at bay a while. It’s money she wants.”
But Patrick, whose anger at her almost consumed him, didn’t believe that someday she wouldn’t remember how to love Will again.
“She wants the money for drugs, Mitch. I’m paying to keep her high.”
“I can’t argue the morals of that again. Will’s safety has to come first. Besides, if she could admit she’s addicted, she’d be in treatment.”
Talking about it—hell, thinking about it—made him too angry to think straight. “Send her the damn check and add the usual note. After she’s in treatment, she can get in touch.” His skin crawled when he thought how easily she could make her way back to town and into his son’s life.
Moments later, he was out on the sidewalk, hurrying toward his office. He still had an arraignment and a deposition to deal with before he picked up Will from his mother’s house.
Just then a spring breeze gusted across the square, lifting the hem of a printed, pale orange sundress on the woman seated on a bench. Daphne caught her hem and smoothed it over her crossed knees.
He slowed down. Adjusted his tie. Longed not to care so much that her bare legs looked long and smooth and he could imagine the infinite pleasure of stroking her skin.
“Daphne?”
She looked up, her eyes blank as her mind was obviously elsewhere. But when she recognized him, her body seemed to take over. She sat up straighter, lifting her breasts, tightening the cross of her legs.
“Hey, Patrick.”
Her voice was about three octaves huskier than Raina’s, and the sweet tones got inside his head.
“What’s up?” It wasn’t much. It was the best he could manage. “Did you get a new room?”
She looked blank again. “Oh. That.” She scooted aside in an unspoken invitation for him to join her. “I got distracted on my way to the office. The lock’s fine.”
“Are you nuts? You need iron bars, but the chain should at least work. Call the hotel and have them fix it while you’re out.”
Her smile mocked his naiveté. “You saw the place. I’m not sure that guy at the desk could unfasten his a—himself from the seat of his chair. He’s certainly not up to installing hardware.”
“Either change rooms, have him fix it, or I’ll come fix it.”
She stared at him.
“Most women would think I’m overstepping,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
They stared at each other, and it was like drinking his fill when he was dying of thirst. Finally, he had to look away.
“Why do you care?” she asked.
Good question. One that had kept him awake for the two nights since he’d last seen her.
“Put it down to an urge to run my own patriarchal society. I look after your sister. I’m my mother’s financial adviser. For my ex-wife…” He’d nursed Lisa for years, thinking she was on the verge of death. “I’m tired of being responsible, but it’s a hard habit to break.”
“Okay. Don’t worry.”
“I will if you don’t get it fixed.”
“I can use a screwdriver as well as the guy in the office.” She lifted the paper he hadn’t noticed on her lap. “I’m looking for a job. Do you know a Mrs. Hennigan? She’s so desperate for child care she offered me the chance to look after her boys.”
“Did you accept it?”
“I saw her son Tyler riding their beagle. Tyler’s two, and the beagle must be about eighty-two. I figured I’d have to report Tyler to the SPCA, and that wouldn’t win me any points with his mommy.”
“What about the older one? Drake?”
“He hit me with a spitball in the back of the head before I could escape the house. Mrs. Hennigan says the boys are having separation anxiety since their last nanny left. I’m betting they could find her in the nearest home for child-care providers driven crazy by their charges.”
“What did you do before you came here?”
“Whatever.”
Oh, yeah. He’d already tried that.
“You weren’t boosting cars?”
“I’m not sure you’re joking.”
The suggestion seemed to spook him. “Why?” He shook his head. “Raina was right. I could find something for you in my office.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She pleated her skirt with her fingers, then added, “I upset Raina.”
He tugged at his collar, not wanting to know. “Yeah?” The arraignment, the deposition, his son’s fears, as well as Will’s longing for his mother, all had a place in line for Patrick’s attention. He had enough to do. Walking away from both Raina and Daphne would be the smartest thing to do. “What happened?”
“She told me something.” Daphne scooped her hair behind her ear. “I was shocked, and she got upset.”
“How could Raina shock you?”
Daphne twisted her mouth. “I’m not sure I can say.”
“Did you talk it out with her?”
“She walked out. I ran after her, but I couldn’t find her.” She went back to ironing her skirt with her index finger and thumb. “I’ve tried calling her, but she doesn’t answer. Is she good at holding grudges?”
“I can’t remember her ever holding one. Maybe if you gave me a little more to go on. Was this serious? Do you want me to talk to her?”
Daphne’s spontaneous laugh warmed him like the spring sun at his back. “I think I can handle apologizing myself. If she’ll answer her phone.”
“You matter to her,” he said. “Once you’re more at ease with each other, you’ll be able to argue and make up like normal sisters.”
“You know this because?”
“I’ve known Raina all her life.”
“You belong here,” she said, and it wasn’t a platitude. “And my sister belongs here. I’ve never been in a place where people belonged like they do here.” She touched his arm, startling him. “You play your parts, and you know what to expect. I like the safety of that.”
“Are you looking for safety, Daphne?”
She met his gaze, and then hers fell to his mouth. Wanting her was crazy. It made his blood rush so that he actually felt dizzy.
He leaned closer. Around him, all sound seemed to magnify, children’s voices and birds singing. The seesaw scraping over metal. New leaves fluttering on the trees.
The sun seemed hotter. Daphne’s perfume imprinted itself on his senses, and yet he couldn’t get enough.
“What are you doing?” she asked so close he almost imagined their lips touched.
“Making a big mistake,” he said. “You know about my son?”
“I know you’ve had problems.”
“With my ex-wife. Will needs me.” He stared at her mouth, wondering if he’d ever forget the lush sweet lines of her lips, begging to be tasted, taken, enjoyed. “Will needs all of me.”
It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Will and he needed each other to heal, but he couldn’t explain that. He could barely put words together. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long, and he wanted this woman more than he could believe.
She leaned back. He felt the loss of her. She’d been so close to moving into his arms. Then she stood, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands that he wanted to take and hold. He wanted to pull her close to him.
“I have an appointment with a flower lady on the other side of the courthouse.”
Daphne tossed the paper over him, letting it sail into the mesh wastebasket.
“Wait.” He caught her arm. The small bones beneath her skin made him loosen his grip. Though she tried to be tough, she couldn’t hide her fragility. “Do you want me to call Raina?”
Softness in her eyes nearly undid him. “Thank you, but I don’t need you to help me with Raina. I believe she’ll try again with me.”
“I’d like to help.”
She nodded with a pointed glance at his hand still engulfing her wrist. “I’m not used to having a man take care of things for me.”
“Never in your life?” he asked, as if he knew it to be true. Somehow, he did. He understood the foster-care system, and he saw evidence of its worst failures in her overly developed sense of independence.
Twenty-eight years of living virtually alone, and yet she’d reached out to him and to Raina with no promise of acceptance.
“It’s time you knew the truth about Honesty. Taking care is what small towns do best.” He let her go, but she rubbed her forearm.
“I know you’re trying to make me feel welcome. Especially after what happened in your office, I appreciate that you actually care.”
Care? He was trying not to care too much.
As she walked away, another gust pushed her dark hair over her shoulder. She glanced back, as if drawn. She couldn’t look away, either.
He felt a strange jolt of happiness. It might be hope.
DAPHNE STOPPED on the other side of the square and dropped onto the first bench out of Patrick Gannon’s sight. She couldn’t let him distract her. Her sister was her priority. They needed to settle their disagreement now.
She opened her phone and searched the record of her incoming calls until she found her twin’s phone number. Then she pushed talk and willed Raina to answer. She didn’t.
“Raina,” she spoke softly, aware of couples and families strolling past in the spring sun. Raina wouldn’t want her airing their dirty laundry over the phone. “Please call me back. I need to tell you why I had no right to—think or say anything about what you told me.”
Hell, she’d stolen newspapers to layer between her clothes. And food when her hands were shaking so hard from hunger she couldn’t understand why she wasn’t caught. Once she’d pilfered a romance novel from a drugstore’s Dumpster and then protected the book as if it were a window into a world she’d never be allowed to visit.
One stormy night, huddling beneath a thick piece of cardboard and an overpass, she’d shoved the book beneath her sweatshirt to keep it safe.
She wanted to tell Raina, to explain why she’d put her sister on a pedestal. But not over the phone. They had a hard enough time understanding each other face-to-face. She’d confess all her sins in person, but for now, Daphne closed her phone.
The time flashed across its black screen. She had to make her interview. She stood, straightening her secondhand cardigan. At the far corner on this side of the square, Miriam Burke, proprietress of Bundle of Blooms, was hoping for a viable candidate to deliver her flowers.
Daphne advanced on the store with all the confidence of a night-blooming orchid. She’d better look as if she’d be good at this.
Someone had arranged bright spring bouquets and sheaves of fresh-cut flowers in the two large windows that flanked a green door decoupaged in ribbon and posies.
Daphne glanced down the street, unwilling to admit, even to herself, that she was hoping to see Patrick’s tall, broad back, the confident jut of his shoulders among the citizens milling around Honesty’s square.
Damn him for getting into her head like this.
She looked everywhere but at herself in the reflective windows. She licked her lips. Her mouth felt so damn dry when she stressed. It might be a nothing job to Raina, but Daphne had to find a way to pay the rent.
She also had to find a meeting. Missing another one was asking for trouble.
Her phone rang as she reached for the doorknob. She pulled it out of her pocket. Raina’s name on the caller ID made her thumb edge toward the talk button, but that conversation would take more than two and a half minutes, which was when she was scheduled to meet Miriam Burke.
She eased the door open. A woman barely older than Daphne looked up from a huge crystal vase half filled with roses and carnations. The rest of the flowers were lined up on green paper along the counter.
“Hello.” Daphne held out her hand. She should have wiped her palm.
“You must be Daphne Soder.” While the woman shook her hand, she stared as if Daphne’s face were a science project. “But you look exactly like someone I know.”
On the verge of explaining, Daphne stopped. Raina might not want her revealing their relationship. An eggbeater took a quick stir at her innards, and Daphne smiled and let it go.
“Yes. I’m Daphne.”
“We spoke on the phone. I’m Miriam Burke. Do you mind if I finish?”
“Go ahead. I’ll enjoy watching.”
Miriam flashed a quick smile. She continued placing greenery and stems until she stood back with a last rose. In it went, and the arrangement looked perfect.
“Did you always know how to do that?” Daphne asked. “Or can it be learned?”
“Would you like to learn?”
“I think so.”
“Good.” Miriam wrapped up the scraps, dumped the paper and cuttings in a bucket and then eased the vase to a safe corner on the counter. “Did you bring a résumé?”
“I did.” It contained nothing that made her a sure bet for a florist’s shop, but she’d worked hard during college and after. And she’d had some retail experience.
Nevertheless, she took the envelope from her purse and slid it onto the counter. Miriam took out the pages and scanned them.
“You’re a jury consultant. Why would you want to work here?”
“I haven’t worked as a jury consultant for eighteen months.”
“Why?”
She’d always ducked that question. Did it need to be asked for this kind of job? “It wasn’t a good fit. As you can see, I’ve done retail work, and I’ve had a variety of positions so I can learn new skills.”
“I’m not suggesting you need the criminology degree.” She glanced at the résumé again. “But the variety of jobs you’ve held makes me wonder if you’d stay long enough to be worth my while.”
Everyone in this town was as blunt as a sledgehammer. “Yes,” Daphne said, and she had no trouble meeting Miriam’s pale blue eyes because she was telling the truth. “I’ll be here.” She’d alienated her sister, but Honesty was home unless Raina refused to see her again.
“When did you move here?”
“A few days ago.”
Miriam’s mouth twisted. Those jury consultant skills hadn’t entirely deserted Daphne. She’d learned good instincts about people in ugly situations, and she could read Miriam’s doubts.
“I’m not drifting,” she said. “I plan to stay.”
Her résumé seemed to require all of Miriam’s concentration. Translation, she was considering taking the leap.
“Your interest in staying in Honesty has something to do with the way you look?”
Daphne touched her own cheek. “Maybe I love the idea of a small town.”
“Okay.” Miriam’s smile was knowing, but she went on without pushing for more information about Daphne’s resemblance to Raina. “Most newcomers your age come bearing the requisite two-point-something children and a puppy.”
“And a spouse.” The town was too picture perfect to go without.
“The spouse is not always required.” Miriam shrugged. “I’m looking for someone with a driver’s license, and I get that you don’t want to share your personal business.”
“I just want a change.” The lie came easily.
Miriam eyed her with continued indecision. “You can’t be worse than the high-school kids who’ve dumped me for a pep rally or a debate-team weekend.”
“Debate team?”
“I
know. That’s as hard to believe as you wanting this job.” Miriam’s smile flashed. “It looks good on college apps. Shows they’re critical thinkers.”
“Wow. A plan in high school.” Other than escaping foster care, she’d had none.
Miriam moved down the counter to pat a huge, hunching gray machine. “This is my cash register. It’s old. I bought it secondhand, and it has a few quirks.”
Just like that, Daphne found herself employed. Miriam took her through the refrigerators where she stored flowers she ordered from out-of-town suppliers. She was more excited about the small greenhouse at the back.
“After I built this, I couldn’t afford a state-of-the-art cash register, but I have live plants, and I get to play whenever I want. I love it.”
“I envy your passion.” She’d loved being excited that way when certain cases came to trial.
“I breed roses.” Miriam leaned down to cradle a rose’s fleshy petals. “Of course, everyone wants to create a new rose. I’m a cliché.” She spun toward the shop. “Come back inside. We’ll go through today’s orders.”
Daphne followed her, distracted by the courthouse spire that towered crookedly in the glass-paned roof. “I’ve never seen a greenhouse attached to a florist’s before.”
“Did you notice the shopping area behind us?” Miriam didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s pedestrian only, which put my parking spots out of reach. Instead of leaving the area empty, I built the greenhouse and we have to depend on the parking out front.”
“Does it hurt business?” Daphne asked.
“You mean will I be able to afford you? If you’re agreeable to the salary I can offer, we’ll do fine.” She stroked the petals of an orchid that seemed to preen beneath her fingers. “I know the ad said I wanted delivery only, but that was when I thought I’d be settling for a kid. If you want to work in the shop, too, I might add something to your paycheck. You may not be using any of your training, but you’ve obviously got what it takes to stick with something.”
“Thanks.”
Again, Miriam grinned as they made their way back to the shop. From behind the counter, Miriam drew out an apron of poppies and blue crocuses printed on a white cotton background. She offered it to Daphne. “You want to stay the rest of today?”
