by Scott, D. D.
“I’m as stubborn as you.” Russ stopped beside the rear of the car and grinned over his shoulder at her.
Amanda noticed he had a sexy mouth. And not a bad face either. Nothing compared to the young cashier’s camera-ready looks, but a strong jaw, dark eyebrows beneath shaggy, brown bangs and gray-green eyes that clearly said, Nobody tells me what to do.
But Amanda reminded herself she wasn’t interested. Not in Russ McNeil. Not in any man.
She popped open the hatch. Russ grabbed the box, and as she watched him neatly arrange the cans inside it she had the strangest sense that he was somehow arranging her life.
Half her butt on the driver’s seat, one foot still outside the door, she said, “Thanks again, Russ.”
He strolled toward her. “Your store’s on the corner of Hanson and Oaks?”
“That’s right.” She pulled in her foot and sank back into the driver’s seat.
Russ stood there holding her door open. “If you’re looking to hire some good, honest help, I know a certain young lady who could use a part-time job. Her family’s having a hard time right now. She’s the kid sister of the boy you just met working at the register. Her name’s Casey Richardson.”
“Sure. Send her around. Bye, Russ. And thanks again.” Amanda started the engine, figuring he’d back away so she could close the door. But he didn’t.
When she looked at him, Russ gave her a surprisingly boyish grin and said, “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Amanda chewed her lip. How would she get out of this one after his gallant rescue maneuver? “Now’s not a good time. Maybe once I get things settled.”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me . . . yet.”
“What?” She stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Just kidding.” He closed the door saying, “I’ll send Casey to see you about that job.”
“Please do.” She waved, backed her car up and drove out into the street.
##
Amanda lived in a cottage not far from the Peconic Bay, but right now she drove to her store-to-be, which sat just on the outskirts of downtown North Cove. The town consisted of a couple streets and a few random shops. Her own shop had once been a stately, hundred-year-old farmhouse that someone had gutted and turned into a commercial space.
On her way there Amanda wished she’d left the porch light on so she wouldn’t end up slipping on the ice again. But as she pulled into the driveway she saw the lights inside her shop blazing bright. The good part was the light coming through the windows would help her see the walkway. The bad part was that she clearly remembered turning off all the shop’s fluorescents and even the lamp in the office.
She trudged up the walk with her armload of paint, set the box down and tried the back door. Still locked. A little nervous about the possibility of someone having broken in, she jogged around to the front. Also locked. She opened the door and peeked in, eyes and ears on alert.
Her inner wimp longed for that macho Mr. McNeil to show up and protect her. He sure looked like he could hold his own in a tussle. But Amanda reminded herself she’d moved out here to get away from men. They always let you down and this guy would be no different.
She stiffened her jaw and told herself to put on her big girl panties. Inching her way across the floor, she ignored her usual obsession about letting in the cold air and left the door ajar as an escape route. Just in case some prowler was lurking behind a clothing rack or ready to spring from the tiny office on her left.
After bravely dipping her head inside the office doorway, scouting the six racks of dresses and coats and checking the storeroom, it was obvious she was alone. Returning to the business at hand, Amanda toted her supply of paint into the shop and placed it against the wall in the far corner.
Slam!
Amanda let out a gasp and pivoted toward the jarring noise. How to scare the hell out of a woman.
But it was only the front door. Pulled shut by the wind.
#
Fifteen-year-old Casey Richardson sat next to the bed, balancing a notebook and geometry text on one knee and a third grade geography book on the other. Jenna, her eight-year-old sister sat curled on the floor to her right, waiting for Casey’s opinion on her homework questions.
To her left, the man who’d been the foundation of their family slept for now. But the ticking of his oxygen tank, his protruding cheekbones and sallow skin left no doubt in Casey’s mind — and her shattered heart — that he would soon be gone.
She couldn’t concentrate on the homework. It seemed so unimportant now. Worries flooded her mind. And fear. And anger at the woman sleeping off her latest drunken bender in the next room. Thanks again, Mom.
Casey had read lots of blogs and posts on the sites telling cancer patients and their families how to cope. But they seemed stupid to her right now. All she could think about was how she and Parker would get the money to heat the house this winter, how to buy Jenna the new boots she needed, what to cook for dinner tomorrow. And of course making sure her dad was comfortable.
Parker shuffled into the room. He stood by the bed a moment and then turned to Casey. “Okay. My shift.”
“But you haven’t eaten. I made chili. It’s on the stove.”
Parker took the books from her lap. “I want my two sisters to keep me company while I eat.”
Casey shook her head. “I can’t let him wake up to an empty room.”
He tugged her arm. “We’ll make noise in the kitchen so Dad knows we’re here. And Jenna can be our runner for checking up missions. Right, baby sis?”
Jenna sprang up and gave an eager demonstration of her speed by sprinting to the kitchen and back.
Parker used a gentle, but firm, grip to nudge Casey out of the room. “You’ve been here too many hours. Besides, I’ve got news of job offer for you. Something you might like. Get you out of the house. Make a few bucks. But remember to tell her you can only work after school hours.”
She couldn’t possibly miss his implication. No matter how many bills they had or how much school Parker missed, he was always on her case for skipping class or falling behind in her homework. Casey was about to challenge him by asking when she’d have time to take care of their father if she spent her days in school and her evenings at a job. But she didn’t want to hear his answer. She knew her big brother was trying to make sure she had plenty to keep her occupied once Dad passed away.
In the kitchen Casey set milk and cookies on the table for hyperactive little sister who charged off for one more sick room check before climbing on to a stool and spinning around on the smooth wooden surface. She switched off the low flame she’d had under the chili and dished out a bowl for Parker. “Let me guess. Freddie Huntz has finally decided to hire me at the diner.”
“Nope.” He told her about the vintage clothing shop opening soon and about the wiseacre lady who’d caught Russ McNeil’s eye. “I’ve already got work lined up for tomorrow afternoon, but Russ said he’d take you over to meet her. You up for it?”
“Sure.” Casey had always liked Russ. He was her father’s best friend.
Parker rested a hand on her shoulder. “Now I’m gonna pull rank on you. Go to your room and get some sleep.”
“It’s Jenna’s bedtime, not mine.”
“Noooo.” Jenna hopped off the stool and hid behind Parker.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get Jenna to bed later, and I’ll handle Dad duty tonight.”
“But—”
“You can’t keep going like this, Casey.”
She nodded and headed upstairs to the room she shared with Jenna, grateful for a little time alone. Winter moonlight cast a bluish tint along the creaky floorboards. Casey pulled off her sneakers but didn’t change out of her jeans. She wanted to be ready to go if they needed to rush Dad to the hospital.
Casey picked up the glass unicorn from the night table next to her bed. Her father had given it to her for her birthday last year. It was crystal blue with a fairy riding on it. And fro
sted, as if it were running through the snow.
“Listen to the dreams of your heart,” he’d said to her.
Could she still have a dream? She wasn’t sure.
Lying on her bed, Casey gazed out the dormer window. The world outside looked cold and dark. And so breathlessly still. Like it was holding back a torrential storm of tears.
##
Friday afternoon, Russ McNeil eased his battered green Ford pickup through the steady stream of after school traffic as he neared North Cove High. The sight of a teenage couple holding hands struck a chord in him. Russ had married at eighteen, and his only son was now a strapping twenty-seven-year-old. But on this dreary, overcast January day two weeks before his forty-ninth birthday, Russ felt like a teenager himself.
It seemed like eons since he’d met a female that sent him reeling. Divorced and disillusioned when it came to women, Russ thought those days were long gone — until Amanda Kushinski came to town.
He was up half the night thinking about her hazel eyes. They were almost almond shaped, kind of oriental looking above to her high cheekbones. She had her foxy auburn hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing a delicate ivory neck that cried out to be kissed. Then there was the way her legs bent when she walked. A certain kind of athletic stride you don’t see in most women, telling him she must look damn nice with nothing on.
Casey waved to him from the corner. Russ pulled over. She climbed in and they made it to Hanson and Oaks without once mentioning Marty Richardson, although he doubted Casey’s dying father was ever far from her mind.
The sign in front of the store read: PAST PERFECT. Amanda answered the door looking even better than he remembered. He couldn’t take his eyes off her sleek legs in tight jeans as they followed her through an obstacle course of boxes. The sweet curve of her perfect butt just below the bulky beige sweater she wore definitely put him in pain.
“Just in time,” she said. “A shipment came in a day earlier than I expected.”
Russ hung back while the two females talked about clothes and the store. He could tell Amanda liked the girl. And Lord knew Casey needed an older woman to talk to these days. He just hoped Amanda was the straight shooter she appeared to be.
Casey stepped toward him. “I can start now.”
“Now?”
Amanda chimed in. “Just for maybe a couple hours or so. Until we get what’s in these boxes out and onto the racks. Speaking of which . . .” She nodded to a box in the middle of the floor that came up to her shoulder. “The UPS guy delivered this monster today. My shelves. Weighs a ton. Quick service, but right now I’m in no mood to play handyman. I’ll save that job for tomorrow. But I wondered, Russ, if you would mind helping me move it out of the way.”
“I’ll do more than that.” Russ scampered out the door to his pickup and came back with a metal toolbox. He set it down, tossed his jacket on the floor and began unpacking the large crate.
It seemed to make Amanda uncomfortable, and for some reason he liked that.
“Um, Russ, I didn’t want to unpack this yet because I . . .”
“I’ll put them up.”
“You really feel like doing this?” Amanda asked.
Russ kept working. “Why not?”
“Okay. There should be some instructions somewhere in there,” she said.
He flashed her a sideways smirk. “I’ve been wielding a hammer since I was a kid.” And he felt like a kid now trying to impress her.
Which he did.
Fifteen minutes later, Amanda stood beaming at the sight of her new shelves, all neat and clean, just where she wanted them. The smile she gave Russ made him want to build her a whole damn house or something.
She crossed her arms and seemed to be studying him. “You made that look so easy. How much do I owe you?”
“Let me take you out for coffee.”
“Okay.”
That sent Russ to the moon. She hadn’t even hesitated for a millisecond before saying yes. “Great. Pick you up tomorrow night around seven thirty.”
“Tomorrow night? I thought we were going out for coffee.”
“We are. Soon as we finish dinner.” Russ picked up his toolbox and before she could say no, he called to Casey, “I’ll come back for you in a couple hours.” And he chugged out to his car.
Feeling like a kid who’d won a gold star.
##
Amanda found herself secretly giddy over her dinner date with Russ McNeil. She hated to admit it, but once he took off that grubby orange parka and stood there all lean and muscular in a tight, white (and, yes, in need of laundering) tee he looked sexy as hell. She labeled and racked dresses with Casey, wanting to ask the girl all about him. But aside from the fact that Casey would no doubt reveal her interest to Russ, Amanda knew he wasn’t really her type.
Not that she had a type anymore. Amanda had spent so many years wrapping her life and hopes around her latest fling, only to be floored with an emotional kick to the gut, that she’d sworn off relationships. Once she settled in here she would get herself a dog. They knew how to be loyal.
She liked Casey. An intelligent girl, but not talkative like most her age. She expressed some appreciation for certain pieces, but with no enthusiasm in her voice. Amanda remembered Russ saying her family was having some troubles, and Amanda made a mental note to schedule Casey for extra hours. Maybe that would help out a bit.
After about two hours of bending over boxes, Amanda’s old dance injuries began to ache. She rolled her head and shoulders and then did a few grand 96 ambe, squatting until her butt nearly touched her heels, her knees wide open to the side. When she straightened, she bent her torso way back in a 96amber, then forward, her head to her knees. Noticing Casey watching her, Amanda held onto one of the racks for a jambe à main stretch, gripping her heel with her hand and lifting her leg to her ear.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Whoa. Now that is impressive.”
“Like that, huh?” Amanda spun around in a double pirouette, ended with a lilting glissade followed by balancing on half-pointe, one leg in an arabesque lifted high behind her.
The smile on Casey’s face stretched from ear to ear. “Bravo!”
Amanda laughed. “Now you.”
“No way. I’ve never had any dance lessons. Only saw stuff on TV.”
Amanda walked to a mirror leaning against the wall and curled a finger at her youthful admirer. “Come here.”
Casey stepped forward cautiously.
“Step one. First position. A dancer has to first know how to stand correctly before she can begin to move.” She adjusted Casey’s feet, legs and then gently set her arms. She touched her abdomen. “Suck this part in and lift. Chin raised. Widen your shoulder blades slightly. And pretend there’s a cord lengthening your spine upwards, pulling you.”
“Feels so stiff,” Casey said.
“Only at the beginning. With practice it turns into strength and elasticity. Then it feels great.”
“Let me see. Looked like you did this.” Casey tossed off her own crude version of Amanda’s little variation.
“Wow. What you did isn’t easy. Let me see you try this.”
Amanda started giving her one move after the next, and the sullen cloud that had been hanging over the girl seemed to lift. Casey giggled and opened up, telling her about sports she played and even about a boy she liked.
Best of all, Casey immersed herself in the movement in a way that Amanda recognized because she’d felt that same exhilaration herself. Regardless of her lack of training, Casey didn’t just mimic the moves, she danced them.
This girl has it. She’s a natural born dancer.
The front door buzzer surprised them both.
Russ greeted them and immediately took in their ebullient mood. When Casey ran to get her coat from the office, he moved in closer to Amanda. Shaking his head in amazement, he said, “I haven’t seen that kid smile in a long time. Her father’s dying of cancer and her mom’s so broke up she went back to the bottle.”
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“Oh, my God. That poor girl.”
Casey returned. “Tomorrow morning?”
“Ten sharp.” Amanda turned her head at a trickling sound. “Do I hear water running?”
The three of them walked to the rear storeroom where a healthy rush of water was streaming from the faucet in the utility sink.
“That’s odd,” Amanda said. “I don’t remember either one of us coming back here this afternoon. But this is a pretty old fixture. Either that or I’m losing it.”
Russ shrugged. “Who knows? Could be a lot of things.”
Casey said, “Isn’t there a story about some lady who once lived here a real long time ago and who still kind of hangs around? If you know what I mean?”
Amanda waved off her suggestion. “Oh, Casey, you’ve been watching too many of those paranormal shows. Right, Russ?”
“Right.”
##
Saturday morning, Parker drove his father’s 4x4 into the Gentilliano’s sprawling country estate on a bluff overlooking Long Island Sound. They’d been customers of Richardson’s Landscape Gardening and Lawncare for three years and he didn’t want to lose them. Even though Parker’s father had begun taking him along on certain jobs and teaching him the business back when he was fourteen, running it by himself was a challenge.
Parker had hoped to graduate high school this June. But by the time his senior year began in September, Marty Richardson no longer had the strength to get out of bed. As Marty lay weak and dying, his distraught wife’s alcohol problem came roaring back, getting her fired from the low paying jobs she managed to get. Leaving only Parker to care for his mother, Casey and Jenna.
As he used his chain saw on a tree that had fallen in the last windstorm and then began splitting the logs for firewood, Parker ignored the pretty face watching him from the distant window of the grand house. For the past three years he gladly gave up his Saturdays to work here with his father in hopes of catching a glimpse of Tanya Gentilliano. He used to pray she would smile at him or say hello. But Tanya would never give this local gardener’s son the time of day. He was just part of the help, an insignificant character in the background at the Gentilliano’s weekend getaway house.
