by Kathy Altman
“Hinges?” the woman with goggles asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Gil pointed. “Aisle two.”
Phone Lady gawked at Kerry. She lowered her cell and leaned to her right to whisper to her friend, realized she’d already disappeared and scurried after her.
Kerry gave Gil a nod. “I’ll let you take care of your customers.”
As he bent to pick up the paint strips he’d knocked to the floor, Kerry made her slow way back to the entrance, suddenly nostalgic for the old-fashioned vibe and the metal and sawdust smell of the store.
And yes, idiot that she was, for its sexy-turned-hostile owner, too.
The sense of loss for the brief closeness they’d shared was ridiculous in its intensity, and almost as strong as the stinging ache in her chest that represented all she couldn’t share with her father.
She was unfolding her sunglasses before pushing through the glass door when a female voice said her name. She turned, but spotted no one other than Gil as he restored order to his paint sample rack. Since he had his back to her, she indulged in a good old-fashioned ogle, feeling the stuttered rush of her pulse as she eyed the tempting spread of his shoulders and the muscled curve of his butt.
Her palms itched.
He’s not for you, chickie. He deserved better than a needy woman with daddy issues.
As she lifted her shades to her face, the sound of her name drifted her way again, from the far end of an aisle to her left.
“Endicott,” the woman said. “He obviously didn’t want her going back to the family name. Can you believe her nerve, showing up after all this time?” The cigarette rasp of her voice gave her away as the woman with the goggles around her neck.
“Well, he is her father.” That must be Phone Lady. Somehow she’d recognized Kerry.
“He’d rather not be, from everything I’ve heard,” said Goggle Lady.
Kerry’s chest tightened. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if Gil was hearing this, too.
Go. Go.
But she couldn’t push herself out of her horrified inertia.
She had earned every spiteful, disbelieving comment. Might as well learn what she was up against, and what her father had been forced to contend with.
“She’s probably just here to hit him up for more money,” Goggle Lady continued.
“We don’t know that.”
“We know he’s sick. Surely she realizes that having to deal with her issues on top of everything else can only make matters worse.”
“Maybe that’s her plan.” Phone Lady’s tone was sly.
“What, you mean to give the man a heart attack?”
“Can’t get an inheritance till someone dies.”
Kerry pressed a hand to her mouth. Yes, she was an idiot and a thief. Ex-thief. The idiot part still applied. But dear God, that didn’t make her a murderer.
Her throat stung with gathering tears and her muscles quaked with the urge to set these ladies straight. But their words carried enough truth to give her pause.
And Gil would not thank her for causing a disturbance in his store.
God. What if he shared their suspicions?
He appeared at her elbow, and she jumped.
“Ladies,” he called out. He ignored Kerry when she shot him a glance. “Can I help you find something?”
They came bustling to the end of the aisle, Goggle Lady in the lead. When she spotted Kerry she stopped. Phone Lady walked right into her and the resulting oof eased the ache in Kerry’s throat.
“I think she heard you,” Goggle Lady whispered.
“Me?” Phone Lady squeaked back.
“Just curious.” Kerry tugged off her sunglasses. “Did either of you happen to come across any rat poison back there?” She gave them a conspiratorial wink. “Never hurts to have a plan B.”
As the pair murmured to each other in shocked tones, Gil stepped in front of Kerry and gestured at the packages in Goggle Lady’s hands. “Let me ring you up.” In an aside to Kerry, he said, “You. Stay.”
“Sure,” she managed, though her instinct was to run. Why should she hang around? He was going to either read her the riot act or call the sheriff.
Or maybe both.
But there was always the off chance that he’d reconsidered the truce thing.
While Gil worked the register and his customers took turns casting Kerry wary glances, she spun a slow circle, cataloging the store’s layout. Prior to her career as a database administrator, she’d worked in retail management. She might be able to make some recommendations for improving Gil’s business. Assuming, of course, he could bring himself to care about anything she had to say.
The sound of the cowbell followed Goggle Lady and Phone Lady out of the store. Kerry turned to apologize to Gil at the same moment he rounded on her.
“Good for you, for wanting to make up for whatever mistakes you’ve made.” His brown eyes were fierce behind his glasses. “Congratulations on seeing the light. That doesn’t mean everyone else has to stand back and watch you make things worse while you play at undoing the damage you’ve already done.”
Whoa. “I’m not playing at anything.”
“What was that about the rat poison?”
She bit the inside of her lip. Maybe pretending to plan a murder wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done.
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have let them get to me.” She straightened. “Will you be calling the sheriff?”
“What? No.”
Oh. Then...yay. “I have to ask. What’s wrong with trying to make amends? You make it sound as though that’s worse than anything I could have done in the first place.”
“What’s wrong is that you get to feel good twice about what you’ve done. Once when you’re doing it, and again when people get all misty-eyed and hug-happy because you’re apologizing for it. Meanwhile the people you’ve wronged are forced to either forgive you or look like assholes.”
“You’re saying I’m entitled.” When he lifted an eyebrow, her face went hot. “You don’t know me.”
His silence made it clear he didn’t want to, either. Ridiculously, that hurt more than the entitlement thing.
“Something I said upset you, and for that I apologize. I have no idea what happened to you—”
“Apology accepted,” Gil said curtly. “Now I have work to do.”
Not wanting to push her luck, she made a beeline for the exit. The door was halfway open when she paused, stopping the cowbell midclang. Ignoring Gil’s thunderous expression, she gestured with her sunglasses at the tower of paint cans in the center of the store.
“You might want to consider moving that whole display to the perimeter. It’s hiding those shelves of gadgets, which means lost revenue because people love gadgets. Especially kitchen gadgets. They’ll lure your customers farther into the store, which will increase the likelihood they’ll see something they think they need. Same with customers looking for paint. Having to walk all the way to the wall means they’ll get a good look at everything else you have on display. The longer you keep your customers in the store, the higher your sales. Just a thought.”
She set her shades in place and set the cowbell to clanging again. Outside, she strode purposefully along the sidewalk until she was out of sight of the store windows. Releasing a shaky breath, she leaned a shoulder against a rough brick wall, unmindful of her sweater.
From the day of her arrest, she’d been planning this trip to make things right with her father. Never had she expected she’d be accused of plotting to bump him off.
With a low moan, she pushed off the wall and rushed to the corner. Five steps into the alley, her belly rejected her breakfast.
At least she’d made it outside first.
* * *
KERRY TUR
NED OFF her car and stared through the gathering shadows at the brick house across the street. It was a tidy one-story, with man-size lilac bushes anchoring each front corner and a covered porch in between. Lantern-style lights on either side of the door illuminated a sad-looking potted tree and a massive redwood rocking chair.
She closed her eyes. That there was only one chair on the porch struck her as incredibly lonely.
Stop that. She’d promised herself she’d be practical about this. If she approached her father in tears, he’d shut her down faster than the Liquor Control Board could shut down a bar serving alcohol to minors. Besides, maybe one chair didn’t mean he was lonely. Maybe one chair meant he was...thrifty.
A trait she wished it hadn’t taken her so long to embrace.
She opened her eyes again and squinted through the gloom, distracting herself by trying to identify the true color of the pansies that sprouted along both sides of the driveway. The same driveway she hadn’t been able to pull into because of the vehicles crowding it.
An old Jeep, three pickups and a minivan. Her stomach rolled. She wouldn’t be doing her popularity any favors by disturbing her father when he had guests.
Then again, maybe he’d find it tough to turn her down in front of an audience?
Except she really didn’t want to do this in front of an audience. Especially this audience. One of the vehicles was a silver F-150 she could swear had been parked in the alley she’d puked in. Chances were good the truck belonged to Gil Cooper.
Hadn’t she created enough hate and discontent there?
She reached for the ignition of the beat-up sedan she’d been driving since her late-model SUV had been repossessed. The aged car served as a constant reproof of the terrible choices she’d made, but it was also the one thing she could rely on. As the engine shuddered to life, she glanced back at the house and caught a shadow crossing in front of the large picture window that overlooked the military-precise yard.
Had her father spotted her? She bit her lip. He wouldn’t call the sheriff on her, would he?
She sagged back against the seat. They were all feeling better about Eugenia, who had been released from the hospital Thursday afternoon. Kerry had given her father the entire weekend after to cool off. Meanwhile, she’d welcomed the bar’s steady pace. She had only a few more days to learn what she could of Snoozy’s routine before he gave her temporary custody of the bar—and Mitzi.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned the car off again. If she truly wanted to rebuild a relationship with her father, she couldn’t chicken out now. And if the sheriff showed up, she’d do her best to talk herself out of a stalking charge.
She strode up the sidewalk, the steady click-clack of her boot heels drumming into her a confidence she sorely needed. Got this. Got this. Got this. A deep breath as she climbed the steps rewarded her with the sweet scent of lilacs, and an alien swell of hope.
When her father opened the door and a flash of gladness brightened his face, hope gave a fist pump. Even when the gladness dimmed to confusion, then disappointment, hope made the decision to hang around.
He had opened the door, after all.
“Hello, Da—umm, hello.” Kerry clenched her keys tighter, as if she feared they’d make a break for it. “How are you?”
His eyes narrowed as he swiped crumbs off his shirt. The tangy odor of chili powder hanging in the air hinted the bits had probably belonged to a corn muffin. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“It’s Monday night. The bar’s closed.”
“What’re you doin’ here?”
“You’re thinking I should have called first. But I figured if I did, you might tell me not to come over.”
“Right.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Because I already have people here. People who were invited.”
“I actually came to ask you to breakfast.”
As her father stared, someone called out from behind him. “Harris, man, who is it? If it’s someone packing cash then for God’s sake, send ’em in.”
That sounded like Joe Gallahan. Of course. Poker night.
She pushed her lips into a smile. “I’d ask you to dinner, but that would have to happen at the bar and we wouldn’t get much of a chance to talk.”
He was shaking his head. “We’ve already said all we have to say.”
“You’ve said a lot. Me, not so much.”
A hoot of laughter sounded somewhere behind him. Were his friends listening in?
Harris scowled. “I have company I need to get back to.”
“Take your time,” someone yelled. “We haven’t finished stacking the deck.”
That would be a yes.
“I apologize for interrupting your game,” Kerry said. “Will eight tomorrow morning work for you?”
“Cal’s place will be crowded.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re eating at my place.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re cookin’?”
“Pancakes, home fries, sage sausage and biscuits with apple butter.” All of his favorites, once upon a time.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her, and rubbed his palm over his head. “Why so determined to make this happen?”
“There are a few things I should tell you. Things I’d rather you not find out on your own.”
From behind her father came a rattling crash and Gil’s name shouted in protest. She caught her breath. So Gil was inside. Had he overheard? Was he worried she’d tell her father about their...time together?
It wasn’t kind of her, but she almost wished she had the courage to do exactly that. She wouldn’t, though. She had enough hostility to deal with.
“Somethin’ to tell me, huh?” His jaw worked. “What, you go and get yourself arrested again?”
Her chest squeezed. The man’s head was harder than marble. “If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking about it. By the way, why didn’t you tell me about your heart condition?”
“This isn’t the time to be discussin’ it.”
“Over breakfast, then.” She could be just as hardheaded.
“Harris!” someone yelled again. “Ask her in and give her some chili.”
“That’ll just scare her away,” another voice said wryly.
Joe again. Their attempts to welcome her were touching, but saddened her at the same time. Though Gil wasn’t seconding any invitations.
No surprise there.
Her father started to swing the door shut. “I have a delivery to make first thing in the mornin’.”
“Maybe you could come by the bar afterward.”
“I doubt Snoozy’s payin’ you to talk.”
“Wait.” She slapped a palm against the door to hold it open. “I’m staying in the apartment above Eugenia’s shop. But it’s only until I can afford something on my own.”
His head went back and the door went wide. But not to let her in. He stepped out onto the porch and let the door thud shut behind him.
“She’s seein’ someone else, did you know?” he demanded. “Some financial wizard. She and I were doin’ great till you decided to pull your little scam and now she’s dating a man with more manners than personality. Did you ever consider how all the trouble you got yourself into might affect other people? No, you did not. So I’ll tell you. From here on out, my priority is Eugenia Blue.”
Kerry switched her keys to her left hand since the fingers of her right had gone numb. “You want her back.”
“Damn right I do.”
“That’s why you and I need to talk. If we can at least try to move past all this hostility, it would go a long way toward repairing your relationship.”
“You two in on this together? She already tried settin’ that condition.”
Dear Lord, she wanted to pinch his
head. “We’re not ‘in’ on anything. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Good. ’Cause fixin’ things with you shouldn’t be a prerequisite to being with the love of my life.”
Kerry drew in a sharp breath.
Her father looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have said that. You know I loved your mother.”
“I know you did,” she said woodenly. “Just not enough.” She resisted the urge to press her palm against the gash in her chest. “But I’m here to talk about Eugenia. If you would just try to honor her feelings, and show her that you’re trying, she’ll be much more open to the idea of a second chance.”
Quite an assumption, Kerry Mae. But it was obvious Eugenia still had feelings for Harris. If he’d meet her halfway, they’d have solid odds of getting back together.
Now if he’d only meet his daughter halfway...
“No woman likes to be dismissed out of hand,” she said gently.
That earned her a suspicious glance, and a gruff, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.”
He frowned at the little tree in dire need of repotting. “Guess maybe I could stop by Snoozy’s one night this week.”
“That would be nice,” she said, as calmly as she could manage, and said good-night.
But on her way back to her car, her smile broke free.
Progress. It was a beautiful thing.
* * *
AT THE SOUND of Harris’s front door closing, Gil pushed his half-eaten bowl of chili aside. When Seth made a successful grab at the beer Gil nearly toppled, he shot an absent grin to his right. He’d lost his appetite.
For a moment there, he’d thought Kerry was about to come clean. He wasn’t sure how Harris would react, but he’d prefer the older man’s too-spicy chili to a knuckle sandwich for dinner, thank you very much.
In the corner of the dining room a decades-old TV was playing Monty Python’s Life of Brian. Harris had lowered the sound, but Gil sat in full view of the screen, and he’d been thinking of Kerry from the moment he’d sat down. He’d told himself she’d laughed at his lame jokes because it was all part of the schmooze, but the pleasure in her eyes had seemed sincere.
