Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1)

by Henderson, Nancy

  Chrissy had been the first to leave because she had a class to catch. Burt had stayed all morning, loudly explaining to her which customers would be the “good ones,” meaning who tipped well and which were the ones who deserved eggshells dumped in their breakfast. Burt had set up a fixed time every Wednesday to meet the guys here to discuss the important gossip of the day as well as pensions, baseball games, and of course, Chrissy. Chrissy attracted more men that Sam had ever witnessed. Problem was, they were all over sixty-five and dirty old men who only bought coffee.

  Martha opened tomorrow and for that Sam was thankful. Martha knew her way around the kitchen and ran the place like a tightly run ship, and Sam felt totally inadequate next to her. Someone like Martha should be the one to inherit a diner, certainly not Sam. Sam had a feeling she’d have a better organized day than today at least.

  Ian emerged from the kitchen. His T-shirt was drenched in sweat and sticking to him like a second skin. Sam had never had a thing for guys who needed showers, but Ian was incredibly sexy right now, and if anyone was interested in him showering, it was her. With him.

  An embarrassing thought. Lord Almighty, what would Mother and Theresa think?

  “Thanks for everything you did today.” She coughed. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “No problem.”

  “You’re really organized in the kitchen.”

  “Had to be. We fed hundreds of inmates.”

  Sam couldn’t get used to his offhanded use of the word inmate. Prison life was just same ol’ for Ian. Of course, when you spent ten years there, it would be. But how could it be? She didn’t like thinking of Ian in a place like that. He deserved better. He deserved a better life and to not have others gossiping about him all the time.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked him. It was nearly two o’clock.

  “I got a deck to fix. Matt Goings called me last night and asked for me to stop over and give him an estimate.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “How about you?”

  “I’m going to clean up here then check stock. I have a feeling we used more supplies today than I expected.”

  “That’s good, right? You packed the place this morning.”

  “Definitely.” She smiled. She hadn’t expected to have such a turn out on opening day. It filled her with an unfamiliar sense of pride and accomplishment. Aunt Jean would definitely be proud and happy to see her diner successful again.

  The air between them suddenly became charged. All day they’d made small talk, as if tripping over an elephant in the room. Sam wondered if not for Ian’s imprisonment if he would be in her life at all. She wondered when the last time he’d been with a woman had been. The thought both surprised and shocked her. She hadn’t been with anyone in a very, very long time.

  Things between her and Chet had not been platonic, but she couldn’t recall the last time they’d been intimate either. It didn’t matter. Chet hadn’t seen a future with her, and in the end, it had simply made her feel used. She had no intention of doing that again. Even if she had to live the life of a nun. It was better than being disappointed from expectations that had never been there the whole time.

  “Did you ever get, um…attacked in prison?”

  His look was one of sheer surprise. He raised one eyebrow, and Sam knew that he knew exactly what she was talking about. She shouldn’t have asked. “Not in the way you think.”

  “I’m, uh…sorry.”

  “It happens, but I got tough fast. You learn to keep your head down, do your work, and if anyone tries to mess with you, you mess them up first. The answer is no.”

  With that, he plucked his baseball cap off the coat rack and stormed out.

  ~ * ~

  Hours passed and Ian was still pissed. He’d made an ass of himself in front of Sam today. She’d asked if anyone had raped him in prison and he’d simply answered then walked out. His leaving so abruptly probably made her think he was lying. He wasn’t, but he could have gotten raped very easily.

  It happened to everybody when they first got jailed. Lines were drawn and the weak were a target. Three guys had cornered him his first day. If he hadn’t been so young, he wouldn’t have been fast enough. They’d all been armed. A toothbrush whittled down to a plastic spike, a simple eating utensil fashioned into a shiv. They’d rushed him all at once, demanding that he was their bitch now.

  Ian had played along at first, taking them off guard and when the big one was adjusting his pants, he’d struck. Ian grabbed the shiv, running it into his leg. The one ran off, and the other one rushed him. Ian had ducked then sucker punched him directly in the throat. He’d gone down like a ton of bricks.

  They had respected him after that. Sure, there had been a few fights but they had all been self-defense and no one had ever tried cornering him again.

  It had also made him wary, always looking back, and never trusting. Sam made him want to trust again. She made him ache for a normal life with no nightmares. She made him hope again.

  He was working on splitting the rest of Burt’s firewood, the physical exertion gradually draining his anger. He was putting another chunk on the chopping block when he saw a familiar truck pulled into the driveway.

  It was Gary Whitmore. Ian hadn’t known him long but had taken to him right away. He was a good shit, as Burt had confirmed, and he didn’t judge. He just listened like any good shit would do.

  “Hey, man.” Gary held out his hand and Ian shook it.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing much. Just got off work and seen you out here. Need a hand?”

  “Nah,” Ian was quick to answer. “I’m just about finished.”

  “Well, I timed it good.” Gary laughed. He offered Ian a cigarette but Ian refused. It took all his strength to say no.

  “Crazy weather we been having.”

  Ian stared at him. Yesterday had been unusually warm and today the wind was stiff and cold. He had a feeling Gary hadn’t come here to talk about the weather. Small talk wasn’t his forte.

  “Have you talked to Roxy lately?”

  Gary’s question took him by surprise. What Gary had to do with Roxy he had no idea. Truth was, he hadn’t contacted her at all despite the advice of his P.O. “No,” he simply answered.

  “She’s a nice girl. Got a good boy, too.”

  “What are you getting at?” Irritation crept up the back of his neck, giving him an immediate headache.

  “Roxy and I have been talking. Truth is, I’d like to start seeing her, but I wanted to tell you first.”

  “Tell or ask?”

  Gary laughed nervously. “Both, I guess. I really care about her and I didn’t think it was right not to tell you.”

  “I appreciate that.” Ian did, but it also had nothing to do with him. Roxy didn’t want him in her life. Why would she? He’d killed the father of her child.

  Gary’s visit drove that home tenfold. Real men spoke to their families. If he had any backbone at all, he would have gone to Roxy right after being released and manned up to her. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d buried his head in the sand and ignored the problem like a coward.

  He was a coward now.

  Ian met Gary’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Gary. I’m sure you’ll make Roxy very happy.”

  Relief washed over Gary’s expression. “Thanks.”

  Ian clapped him on the shoulder. Truth was, Gary would make a good companion for Roxy and a good father figure for Teddy. He had two little girls from a previous marriage, and as far as he could see, Gary treated them like gold.

  Ian’s irritation gradually sunk to a dull heaviness as Gary continued to make small talk. His P.O. told him to stay away from “what could have been” thoughts. Looking back did no good. But today…how could he not? Not only was he missing out on his sister’s life, but he’d missed seeing her little boy, his only nephew, grow up.

  Ian wanted to do something about it. He wanted to change things, but what if he made thing
s worse? He had already ruined things when he’d tried to protect Roxy before, and look where that had gotten him.

  ~ * ~

  The days passed in a blur. Sam couldn’t remember being this busy ever. Work being an agent was always busy, and she was never caught up, but this was a different sort of busy. She hit the ground running upon waking and didn’t stop until well after sundown. Every day was something different and the greatest, most surprising part was that she loved it. Self-employment gave her an indescribable satisfaction that working the daily nine-to-five never had.

  The breakfast rush left and an unexpected lull came around eleven. Sam took advantage of the time to mop the mud brought in on everyone’s feet with the heavy rain that morning. She had just finished when another customer came in.

  Only he wasn’t another customer.

  Six-foot-two, tan khakis, and a mint green polo shirt. Chet Tyler. Here. In Cold Springs. Standing in the middle of Jean’s Diner.

  “Chet.”

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Chrissy had gone out back to smoke again, so Sam took a menu to Chet.

  His smile was confident, full of authority. “I wanted to see the place. And you. How have you been?”

  “Fine.”

  He caught her in a hug. It was strong, powerful. Awkward. He wanted to see her? Why? “Just friends” wouldn’t warrant a trip all the way up here.

  Sam wondered how she would be five years from now. If she had stayed at her job in New York, she would be looking at six weeks of vacation this year. Not that she ever took any, anyway, but the firm always let her sell it back which helped, especially at holiday time. It was like an extra Christmas bonus.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sounds great.” He flashed her a flawless smile.

  Sam went around the counter. By the time she had poured Chet’s coffee, Chrissy was back from her break. She nudged Sam.

  “Who’s that?” Her breath was dank with smoke.

  Before Sam had time to respond, Chrissy had grabbed the cup and was practically running toward Chet.

  “Why’d you let her go after him?”

  Sam turned to see Mother coming toward her. She found a seat at the empty counter and sat down. Sam got her a cup of coffee. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Chet Tyler’s come here for you.”

  Sam nearly choked on her coffee. Mother had met Chet once when she’d brought him home for a brief weekend visit. She’d spent more time with Aunt Jean than Mother, but Mother was all wrapped up in Theresa, so Sam didn’t think she’d even notice her absence.

  “I have enough on my plate without getting a love life. What about you?” She passed her mother a menu. “You’re not seeing anyone.”

  Mother looked as if Sam had slapped her. “I’m twice his age. And I don’t need my daughter’s left overs.”

  “I hear cougars are the new thing. You should get out. It’s not healthy being cooped up alone all the time.” Sam tried to joke, but the tension was beyond bearable. What did Chet want?

  Mother rummaged through her purse and pulled out her wallet. “I’ve got to go. I have a full schedule today.”

  “Writing?”

  “Yes, writing. Sam, I would think from your years of being an agent that you would know the kind of hard work it takes being an author.” She placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

  “It’s on the house. I realize you work hard, Mom.” Sam felt a stab of guilt. She tried to pretend her words didn’t hurt, but Sam had obviously hurt Mother as well, judging by her defensive tone. “Writing isn’t easy, and you’ve managed to make a living out of it. That’s huge.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner? Just the two of us.”

  “I’d like that.” Sam was surprised and warmed by her offer. Rare was a time when Mother made any effort to spend time alone with her. Not when she had Super Daughter Theresa available 24/7.

  Mother left and Sam watched from the window as she hopped into her car parked by the sidewalk. She turned and ran smack into Chet Tyler.

  “Oh!”

  “Sam.” He flashed her a grin with flawless teeth. “I’d like to talk with you tonight. It’s important. Call my cell. I’m staying in town.”

  Sam nodded, suddenly feeling very awkward. She noticed he was holding his wallet and she punched in his bill on the register. “Seven fifty-nine.”

  He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change. And call me.”

  Ian was staring at her from the kitchen. He had a strange look on this face, and she wondered if he’d heard her conversation with Chet. “The cooler’s fixed.”

  “Thank you. What do I owe you?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m your employee, remember?”

  She grabbed a rag from the bucket of bleach water she kept on hand and wiped off the counter. “Thank you.”

  “So…are you going?”

  So he had been listening. Jealous much? But why should he be? Sam was merely a friend to Ian. The kisses had been a mistake, and now that she was his employer there would be no future relationship other than a business arrangement.

  When she didn’t answer, he added, “He looks like those jocks you hated at the reunion.”

  “He’s not that bad.” Sam didn’t know why she was so quick to come to Chet’s defense. Maybe she resented Ian’s judgement.

  “Do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Irritation was immediate and blanketed over her. Sam didn’t know if it was his tone or the way he thought that he had a right to tell her what to do. She’d been living an entire life on her own terms. She wasn’t about to have someone telling her what she could and could not do.

  She stewed about it the entire day.

  At four o’clock that afternoon, Sam went over to her mother’s. She knew dinner wouldn’t be ready yet, but she was looking forward to spending time with her.

  Sam recalled what her mother said about being an agent. Mother had commented on more than one occasion about Sam or her agency not representing her. Sam certainly hadn’t meant anything by it. In fact, she’d offered to refer her manuscripts to another agent house that represented the erotic romance genre, and Mother had acted insulted. Maybe she didn’t understand that Sam couldn’t represent her. Maybe she should talk to Mother about it. If they cleared the air, it might help with things between them. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

  Sam stepped onto the porch and heard the yelling before her hand touched the antique brass doorknob.

  “Now, calm down” came Mother’s voice. “Maybe it’s not what you think.”

  A loud sob came from the kitchen. Sam hurried inside to see Theresa and Mother sitting at the kitchen island.

  “Don’t be so naïve!” Theresa pressed a tissue to her eyes. “It’s exactly what I—” Theresa saw Sam and stopped mid-sentence. “What are you doing here?”

  “I can’t come over?”

  “You could have knocked first.” Theresa loudly blew her nose. Mascara ran a black river down each eye. No doubt one of the kids got a B in geometry or something.

  Whatever this was, it didn’t matter. Years of irritation boiled up in her. She was suddenly glad Theresa was crying, for whatever reason it was this time. She didn’t care.

  Helping herself to a glass in the cupboard, Sam opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of iced tea. Mother always had iced tea in a pitcher from as far back as she could remember, and during summer she always soaked in a leaf or two of the mint growing in her garden. It was no longer summer and today there was no mint. The tea was rather strong for her taste. Sam hadn’t recalled it being disappointing.

  “Last I knew,” she said as she took a long drink of tea. “This was Mom’s house. Not yours.”

  Theresa looked at her as if she was going to attack. Sam was instantly reminded of their teenage years and some of the fights becoming physical.
Theresa had shoved Sam down the stairs in one of their matches. It was a wonder they were both living to tell about it.

  But now they weren’t teenagers, and they should be able to get along. Sam immediately regretted her mouth. It had been a long, difficult day, and her temper was short.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, Sam.” Mother added. “Theresa, your sister apologized.”

  “It’s fine,” Theresa mumbled.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam sat down beside her mother and across from Theresa.

  “Shawn’s leaving me.”

  “Oh, you don’t know that!” Mother spoke up. “You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

  “She hasn’t even talked to him.” Mother looked at Sam.

  “What happened?”

  Mother shook her hand as if to brush the problem away. “Theresa and Shawn are having a marital…thing.”

  “A thing, Mom. A thing!” Theresa glared at their mother then turned to Sam and burst into tears. “Shawn cheated on me!”

  Sam couldn’t have been more shocked. This was the first bad thing that had ever happened to Theresa. Sam suddenly felt guilty for all the jealousy she’d felt over the years. Sam thought they’d been happy, would always be happy. That was just how Theresa’s life seemed. On the outside.