Best Laid Plans

by Abbie Zanders

  Some part of her—a very small, tiny part—wanted to believe that he hadn’t planned it that way. That something unexpected had happened, preventing him from coming back like he’d said he would. An accident. A heart attack. A vicious mugging that left him with amnesia. He’d pissed off the wrong bear or a mountain lion. Anything but abandoning yet another child.

  A much larger part of her—the part that remembered what it was like to stare out the window for hours on end, waiting for him to come home—knew better.

  Kevin didn’t. He still waited in the living room or on the porch every day, packed and ready to go. Sandy wondered if his experience with their father had been different or if the kid just had that much faith in the man. She’d once believed her father was a good guy too. It was only after he’d left that the ugly truth came out. He hadn’t been a good man, but he had been remarkably good at making it look as if he were.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, she thought bitterly.

  “What are you going to do?” Lenny asked quietly.

  That was an excellent question. She’d already paid a security deposit and first month’s rent on the tiny studio in the city, so at least that was secure. The company that owned the building and managed the leases didn’t give a crap if she was there or not as long as they got their money.

  Her job was another matter. She’d called HR and pleaded for more time, citing a family emergency. Thankfully, they were sympathetic, but it was not the way to launch what she hoped would be a long and fulfilling career.

  “They agreed to let me postpone my starting date. I’ve got exactly three weeks to straighten out this mess and get my butt to New York.”

  Three weeks to figure out what to do with the autistic half-brother her father had left behind, so she could start her new life. Hopefully, it would be enough. It had to be.

  She felt bad for Kevin; she really did. From what she could tell, he was a good kid. It wasn’t his fault he’d been born to a lying, cheating asshole any more than it was hers. But Kevin was not her responsibility, and this was her dream. She had to come up with some alternate arrangement for Kevin, so she could go live it.

  Lenny was helping out, using the official resources at the station to try to locate her father, Bianca, or any other possible relatives, but so far, he’d had no luck. It was frustrating, and in this day and age of technological wizardry and digital footprints, it was unacceptable.

  The situation was becoming so desperate that she was actually considering hiring a private investigator, but that raised another issue—her funds were dwindling fast. She hadn’t counted on going weeks without a paycheck, a month of double rent—she had insisted on paying Lenny rent even though he’d protested—and another mouth to feed. And as they’d discovered after Trace’s death, PIs weren’t cheap.

  She blew out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to have to swallow my pride and ask Rico for my job back, at least until I get this sorted out.”

  “I could spot you some cash,” Lenny offered.

  Sandy shook her head. She still had some pride. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll make it work.”

  The corners of his lips turned down in a slight frown, but he nodded.

  “There is something you could do for me though,” she told him.

  “Name it.”

  “Keep an eye on Kevin for me while I’m gone?”

  There was that slight frown again. “Do you really think he needs a babysitter?”

  Sandy didn’t know. She’d never dealt with anyone like Kevin before. Mostly, he sat quietly and stared out the window. The rest of the time, he seemed pretty self-reliant but tended to get anxious when faced with something unfamiliar. And since everything about his current situation was unfamiliar, she felt better about having someone around just in case. Plus, Kevin seemed to tolerate Lenny’s presence as well as he did hers.

  “Probably not. He’s getting more comfortable with things, but I’d feel better, knowing someone’s around.”

  “Yeah, I guess I could,” Lenny said, scratching the back of his neck.

  “What, do you have a hot date tonight or something?” she joked.

  Red painted his cheeks. “No.”

  “Relax, Len. I’m just teasing. I know it’s dart night at O’Malley’s. My groveling shouldn’t take more than an hour, and I promise to bring back some Alfredo for you.”

  Lenny’s eyes brightened. Every man had a weakness, and Lenny’s was Rico’s fettuccine Alfredo. If only all her problems could be solved so easily.

  Sandy took a deep breath and moved to the living room, Lenny right behind her. Kevin was exactly where he’d been an hour earlier—sitting on the chair, looking alternately between his large-print picture book and out the window.

  “Kevin, I need to run an errand, but Lenny’s going to be around if you need anything, okay?”

  No response.

  “I won’t be gone long, and I’ll pick up some dinner for us while I’m out, okay?”

  A slight nod.

  Sandy grabbed her purse and walked out to the car, wondering just how much Kevin understood about the situation. It was impossible to know what was going on in his head because he didn’t say anything.

  None of this is his fault, she reminded herself.

  With more time and under different circumstances, they might even enjoy getting to know each other.

  Sandy made the familiar drive to Franco’s and pulled into the parking lot, surprised to see it wasn’t half-full, which was unusual for the dinner hour. Her eyes automatically scanned for Church’s big truck. It wasn’t there, which meant the guys probably weren’t there either.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed and that it was for the best. She didn’t want to face Heff. Hooking up with him had been crazy, yes, but she’d done it under the assumption that she’d never see him again. Crossing paths with the man who’d played her body so skillfully and incited her to do wicked, wicked things she’d never done before—had never believed she would do with anyone—would be awkward.

  She walked around the building and entered through the kitchen entrance in the back.

  Rico’s eyes widened when he saw her, a big grin spreading over his face. “Sandy! I thought you’d be in the big city by now!”

  Sandy ignored the pang the reminder brought with it and summoned a smile of her own. Rico, like nearly everyone at Franco’s, had always been nice to her.

  “Change of plans. Looks like I’ll be around for a few more weeks.”

  Rico abandoned the big lump of dough he’d been kneading and wiped his hands on his white apron, looking her over with a critical eye. “You’re getting too skinny. You need more pasta.”

  Sandy laughed. The man believed everyone needed more pasta in their diet, especially women. He said it enhanced natural curves and added to their allure, often citing Sophia Loren and his own wife, Jeannie, as shining examples.

  “I’ve only been gone two weeks.”

  “Is that all? Seems much longer.”

  He smiled, but Sandy heard what he wasn’t saying, the half-empty lot and her replacement, Marietta, coming to mind. “That bad, huh?”

  He shrugged. “She’s not you.”

  “Sandy!” Rico’s wife, Jeannie, turned away from the stove to give her a hug.

  Sandy greedily breathed in the comforting scents of basil and garlic. Those hugs had gotten her through some of the worst times in her life.

  “The customers hate her almost as much as we do,” Jeannie confessed.

  Sandy laughed again. She missed Jeannie’s raw honesty. The woman didn’t hold anything back. If she liked you, you were golden. If she didn’t, well, she made no secret of letting you and everyone else know.

  Rico exhaled wearily. “She’s family, bella.”

  “She’s a lazy, man-chasing harlot,” Jeannie replied without apology. “Worse, she’s a lousy waitress, and you won’t do anything because she’s your
niece.” Jeannie stepped back but kept her hands on Sandy’s shoulders. “Please tell me you’ve decided not to move to the big city and stick around instead.”

  “Well, that’s kind of why I’m here.”

  “You’re going to stay?” Jeannie asked, her eyes lighting with hope.

  “Only temporarily,” Sandy assured her. “I’m still going to New York, just not for another couple weeks.”

  Jeannie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Let me finish this order, and then we’ll talk.”

  There was no sense in arguing with Jeannie, and in all honesty, Sandy appreciated the brief respite. She hadn’t been away from the house for more than a few minutes in weeks.

  Sandy sat down at the employee table off in the corner. Almost immediately, Rico placed a plate of sliced, crusty bread and a bowl of his incredible garlic and herb olive oil dip in front of her. She took only a moment to appreciate the delicious aroma before attacking it with gusto. Like Jeannie’s hugs, Rico’s bread plate was a balm to her ragged soul.

  “Can I get some Alfredo to go?” she asked.

  Rico grinned knowingly. “Alfredo—that’s Lenny’s favorite, isn’t it?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Lenny, he’s a good boy. Local roots. Steady job. You could do worse.”

  “Lenny is a good friend,” she firmly reminded him. “Nothing more.”

  Rico nodded, but Sandy didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye. “Right. Alfredo coming right up. I’ll throw in some extra garlic bread too.”

  “Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Jeannie sat her large, robust frame down across from Sandy. “So ... does this have anything to do with that boy you’ve got staying at your house?”

  Sandy wasn’t surprised Jeannie knew about Kevin. Lenny was a regular at Franco’s, especially since all of Sumneyville’s finest ate there for free. That was how things worked in small towns. Local businesses took care of the civil servants, such as the police and firefighters, and they, in turn, were more likely to respond quickly when needed—or look the other way when someone broke a local ordinance or something.

  She nodded. “He’s my half-brother. My father dropped him off while he went to chase down Bianca, who had apparently come to her senses and decided to do to him what he had done to us. He’s taking longer than expected to come back for him though, and I hadn’t planned for that.”

  Jeannie’s eyes blazed with fire. Sandy’s father was one of the people Jeannie didn’t like. “Did you tell him about your job? That you were leaving?”

  “Not exactly. I didn’t think it would be an issue.”

  Jeannie mumbled a few colorful words in Italian, words that weren’t repeatable in polite company.

  “Anyway, I was hoping I could pick up a couple of shifts, just until, you know, things get back on track.”

  Jeannie’s features softened. “Of course! There’s always a place for you here.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. Is that going to cause a problem with Marietta?”

  Jeannie stood and gave her a quick but affectionate hug. “Not at all. And once word gets out that you’re back, business will pick up again.”

  “It’s only temporary,” Sandy reminded her, but Jeannie just waved and went back to the oven.

  Sandy left a short while later with take-out packages of not just Alfredo and extra bread, but also lasagna and chicken Parm, too, and a request that she bring Kevin in at some point. Sandy was grateful for the food and the support, but she didn’t know about bringing Kevin into the restaurant. She had no idea how he’d react to the busy, loud, bustling kitchen or Jeannie’s predilection toward exuberant hugs. Kevin wasn’t a hugger and avoided physical contact. If anyone got too close, he’d go very still and then start shifting his weight in agitation until his wide bubble of personal space was restored.

  Lenny and Kevin were watching television when she returned, each sitting on opposite ends of the couch with about three feet between them. Lenny immediately got up to help her with the food.

  “What are you watching?” Sandy asked conversationally.

  “Animal Planet,” Lenny answered without enthusiasm. “I tried watching the game, but he started doing that rocking thing.”

  When Kevin wasn’t waiting for their father or sleeping, he was looking at his picture book or watching Animal Planet. He seemed particularly fond of horses.

  Lenny followed her into the kitchen and pulled out three plates. “How’d it go?”

  “They’re going to let me pick up some dinner shifts.”

  “I bet they jumped all over that.”

  “Yeah, they did. I don’t think Marietta’s working out too well.”

  “She’s not you,” Lenny said, repeating Rico’s words.

  Sandy then remembered what Jeannie had said and suppressed a smile.

  “But what are you going to do about Kevin while you’re working?”

  Sandy had hoped that Lenny would offer to sit with him, but he didn’t. She didn’t want to come right out and ask either. Kevin was her problem, not his.

  “I was thinking of asking Mrs. Mitchell to watch him.”

  Winona Mitchell was a nice, grandmotherly woman who lived across the street and had been the resident neighborhood babysitter for as long as Sandy could remember. There wasn’t anyone in Sumneyville under the age of forty who hadn’t spent time at her kitchen table at some point, sipping lemonade and munching on cookies.

  “Good idea,” Lenny agreed, looking relieved. “She’ll probably agree just to get an exclusive scoop.”

  “True enough. She’s been out there, dusting her mailbox, every day this week, glancing over this way. Though she’d probably be less conspicuous if she didn’t have those mini binoculars. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  Sandy called Kevin into the kitchen for dinner. She put a little bit of everything on his plate, not knowing what he preferred. Thankfully, other than his must-have Cheerios and peanut butter breakfast, he didn’t seem to be a picky eater.

  Lenny wolfed down his food in record time and set off for dart night, leaving Sandy and Kevin alone. Sandy got up and started clearing the table. Kevin helped. When Sandy washed the dishes, Kevin quietly came to her side and started drying. He put everything exactly where it belonged without having to ask. Clearly, someone had been paying attention.

  He had yet to speak to her, but his willingness to help without being asked was progress. After Sandy thanked him, he quietly gathered his things and went up to bed. Sandy followed soon afterward, but sleep once again proved elusive, and unfortunately, staring at the ceiling didn’t hold any of the answers she was looking for.

  Chapter Nine

  Heff

  Heff’s eyes locked on to the swinging ponytail and familiar hip sway, his heart kicking up into a faster tempo, even as he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He tried to tell himself it didn’t mean anything. The woman’s innate good-girl hotness was what had captured his attention in the first place, and in the second place, it was perfectly reasonable to feel a measure of relief at seeing her again. After all, she’d left the motel in the dark and on foot that night and seemingly vanished. Bad things happened, even in backwater communities like Sumneyville.

  It wasn’t as if he cared beyond reasonable concern or that he wanted to see her. It just seemed odd that, after they’d spent some time together, she’d disappeared not only from the restaurant, but from the township office too. He knew because he’d made a point of stopping there several times over the last week out of some latent sense of chivalry, a byproduct of his deep Southern roots. That was how he’d discovered she was no longer employed there. He probably could have put on the charm and ferreted out a little more intel, but the purple-haired woman manning the front desk seemed far more interested in telling him about her granddaughter than imparting information about Sandy.

  The timing, too, raised questions. It seemed odd that Sandy’s job with the township had ended right after they hooked up. Sure, it was probably ju
st a coincidence and had absolutely nothing to do with him, but his cynical and suspicious mind couldn’t completely dismiss the possibility that the two things were connected, especially since weird coincidences seemed to be happening frequently these days. Like the license and inspections officer falling ill the day before he was scheduled to come out to the site. Or the guy at the equipment rental agency screwing up the schedule and giving the backhoe to someone else. Or the fact that no one at the township office knew anything about the paperwork Sandy had said she’d push through.

  He didn’t want to believe she’d scammed him, especially after Church had told them about her brother. Small towns were notoriously political though. Perhaps whoever had it out for Church had found out that Sandy was helping them and had applied some pressure.

  Another possibility had occurred to him, one he didn’t like at all—that she’d slept with him for some politically engineered ulterior motive. That somehow, their time together could and would be used against the Sanctuary, maybe in the form of a scandal to sway public opinion against the project.

  He couldn’t see how though. They were both consenting, single adults. They hadn’t talked about any inside info. In fact, the only talking they had done was dirty, fuck-hot, and definitely not politically motivated.

  He and the guys settled in around their normal table toward the back. They hadn’t noticed her yet, but he had, a familiar prickling at the base of his spine alerting him to her presence. He watched from beneath half-lidded eyes as she moved with easy grace between the tables, smiling and chatting with customers.

  He couldn’t help but envision what she looked like beneath the jeans and Franco’s polo. They’d only spent a couple of hours together, but during that time, he’d memorized every lush dip and curve and had been revisiting them in his mind often.

  Heff blinked, pushing those images back into the deep recesses of his mind where they belonged. She was forbidden fruit, and he needed to get over himself. It had been sex. Great, mind-blowing, spectacular sex. But nothing more.