by Brenda Novak
Liz watched Mary’s face as she took in the marbled walls. “Do you like what we’ve done?”
“It’s nice.” Her voice held no real enthusiasm, but Liz suspected that by next week Mary would have her own shop painted the same way. “How’d this person get in?” she asked again.
“Keith left the back door open after he finished patching the wall last night.”
When she said this, Liz knew she had Carter’s attention, too. The hammering and sawing had stopped, and she could sense him listening.
“Keith was the last one here?” Mary said.
So far, everyone had jumped to the same conclusion. “I don’t think it was him, Mary.”
“Divorces make people crazy, Liz. And Keith lost more than most.”
“You say that as if he was the victim. He got what he deserved.”
“He did. But I’m sure he doesn’t look at the situation the same way. Heck, he probably blames you for breaking up his marriage to Reenie. Everyone knows how much he adored her. Even now he can barely pass her without glancing longingly in her direction.”
Liz didn’t want to hear this. Her self-esteem had already taken a direct hit because of Keith’s obvious preference for his first wife.
“Never mind,” she said, but Mary continued, heedless, as usual, of her own insensitivity.
“Even if he doesn’t blame you, he might resent you,” she offered as an alternative. “In the beginning, your presence in town made his life infinitely more difficult. Had you stayed in L.A., he might’ve been able to talk Reenie into staying with him, even though Isaac had already blown his big secret.”
“Nice of you to mention it,” Liz said, gritting her teeth. “But I did what I thought was best at the time.” What would Mary have done in her shoes? When Keith realized Reenie had discovered his deception, he left L.A. without so much as a coherent explanation. Liz couldn’t let her marriage end that way. She’d had to come to Idaho, to fully understand what had happened to the man she loved, to finally accept that her husband was really walking out on her and their children, and to face the worst part of all—that he wasn’t coming back. Without seeing for herself how he treated Reenie, without witnessing firsthand how much Reenie meant to him, Liz might have clung to her marriage longer. She’d probably be holding out hope to this day.
Of course, if she had the past eighteen months to live over again, she probably wouldn’t make the same decision. She hoped she wasn’t that much of a masochist.
“I don’t think he blames me,” she said. “At least not anymore. If anything, he blames himself.”
“Then maybe he’s jealous because you’re getting onto your feet faster than he is,” Mary suggested. “He’s still working at the hardware store, isn’t he? That’s got to be embarrassing.”
“It’s an honest living,” Liz said, her syllables clipped.
“But look where he came from. He had a wife in Idaho and California. He had homes in both places, and a job that was paying him the big bucks. Now he lives alone in the house he once shared with Reenie, he drives a beat-up old truck in place of his new SUV and he makes an hourly wage. Tell me that wouldn’t be a bitter pill to swallow.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Liz said.
“You can tell at a glance that he’s suffering. He’s lost at least thirty pounds.”
“I’ve got to get my kids, Mary.”
“You should confront him about the sink. See how he reacts.”
Liz told herself to leave Mary and just walk out. What could the other woman do with Carter in the shop? If she bothered him, he’d likely ask her to leave.
But Liz had already confronted Keith, and so Mary’s suggestion called for a response. “I did ask him about ripping out the sink. He said he didn’t do it.”
Mary slid her purse higher onto her shoulder. “Who else could it be?”
You, Liz wanted to say. But she had no proof. “Who knows?”
“Well, it’s definitely not anyone who really wants to hurt you.”
“How do you know that?” Liz kept her hand on the doorknob in anticipation of her escape.
Mary waved an arm toward the mostly empty space. “Because someone who was truly vindictive wouldn’t mess with this. They’d smash up your house or steal one of your children.”
A chill ran up Liz’s spine. “Don’t even say that,” she whispered, her heart pounding.
Mary gave her a mysterious smile. “Relax. You’re in Dundee. Those things don’t happen here, remember?” And with that, she brushed past Liz and swept out.
Liz didn’t follow. Her legs felt like lead. She stood for a moment, trying to convince herself that Mary’s words were meaningless. But she couldn’t forget the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she’d seen her sink torn from the wall. If something that small could make such an impact…
She turned to see if Carter had heard Mary and found him watching her.
“Stay as far away from that woman as you can,” he said.
LIZ TRIED TO TALK MICA and Christopher out of going to their father’s. But they wouldn’t even entertain the idea. They’d been promised a slumber party with their half sisters, including movies and popcorn and candy, and they weren’t about to miss out. Especially when the alternative was spending the evening with their grandfather Russell, who’d smiled and nodded when they’d been introduced but otherwise appeared not to know what to do next.
He was a stranger to them. And not particularly good with children. Liz couldn’t blame them for going to Keith’s. She just wished their absence didn’t mean she’d be alone with Gordon.
“Mica and Christopher are great,” her father said, turning down the television. They’d finished a supper of spaghetti and garlic bread and were watching the news while eating ice cream. “I’m glad I was able to meet them.”
Shifting as she sat on the couch, Liz forced a smile and bit back what she really wanted to say. Why didn’t you come before? What stopped you? Could Luanna have meant that much more to you than me? “Thanks,” she said. “I’m proud of them.”
“You’re a good mother. I can tell. Completely devoted.”
“I appreciate you saying so.”
The volume went up on the television, and she stood to carry the empty dishes into the kitchen. But her father caught her arm. Besides that brief, overwhelming hug at the chocolate shop, this was the first time he’d touched her in years. His fingers seemed callused in places she didn’t remember. She didn’t know if she wanted to throw herself against his chest, hoping he’d press a hand to her head as he had when she was small. Or if she wanted to recoil from his touch, which had become so foreign to her.
“What happened between you and Keith?”
She knew the kind of questioning she’d undergo if she told him the truth; she didn’t want to go into it. “Personality differences.”
“Marriage can be tough,” he agreed. “How long have you been divorced?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Keith told me he has family here.”
“Yes.”
“But you broke up almost as soon as you arrived?”
“How did you know—”
He answered before she could even get the question out. “Your last Christmas card is the only one with an Idaho address.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
He seemed to grope for something more to say. “What do you do for fun in a town like this, now that you’re single?”
The bleakness of her social life embarrassed her, so she covered her discomfort with a smile. “I go down to the Honky Tonk every now and then. I like to dance.”
“I’m glad you have some fun. You’ve got to take care of yourself, too, you know. Just because you’re divorced, doesn’t mean you should live exclusively for your children.”
Was that what she was doing? If so, she hadn’t learned it from him.
“What about men?” he asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”
She thought
of Carter, who’d left the shop a few minutes before her. He’d barely said good bye, but after she’d locked up she’d found a slip of paper stuck beneath the windshield wiper of her car. The only thing on it was a telephone number.
“I’m sort of in a relationship,” she said, referring to Dave.
“Really?” Her father pushed the mute button and seemed to relax in his chair, as if he’d finally hit on something they could discuss without any danger of approaching one of the many uncomfortable issues that existed between them. “Is he from around here?”
“No. He lives in L.A.”
“Are you considering moving back?”
“I can’t. Not until the kids are older.”
“You’re not getting any younger. Why wait?”
“I don’t want to take them away from their father.”
He scowled.
“Then you must not love him very much.”
“I love my children,” she said, the coolness she’d been trying to hide from him evident in her voice.
Gordon focused on the silent moving figures on TV. The awkwardness between them had surfaced again, twisting Liz’s stomach and making her long to escape her father’s company. “You’re a good mother,” he repeated.
“In any case, I’m not necessarily in love,” she said, belatedly hoping to soften her response. “Just a little infatuated.” She wasn’t even sure about that anymore. Today she’d scarcely thought of Dave. She hadn’t been able to think of anyone other than the darkly handsome Carter Hudson.
Sex appeal could make up for a lot, she decided. Carter wasn’t the type of man to grin and flirt, to woo a woman with wine and flowers and compliments. He guarded his thoughts, and stared right through Liz with eyes as fathomless as a still, deep lake. She shouldn’t be attracted to someone with such hard edges. And yet there was something raw and sensual about him that caused a strong physical response.
It was the danger that drew her, she guessed. The thrill. The promise of feeling young and reckless. What she’d been through had probably thrown her into a midlife crisis ten or fifteen years too early.
“Considering the distance between you, you’re probably smart not to get too wrapped up in him,” her father was saying.
She agreed wholeheartedly. But she was no longer talking about Dave. There was distance between her and Carter, too—just not in the physical sense. “Right.”
“What does he do for a living?”
She moved into the kitchen and started rinsing off the plates. “He’s a tennis pro,” she called back. “Works at an exclusive club.”
“I love tennis.” Her father said this as if she didn’t already know it. He didn’t mention that he’d been the one to introduce her to the sport when she was only seven years old. They’d spent hours on the court every week. Liz remembered how proud he’d been of her ability; how he had bragged to everyone that she’d play at Wimbledon some day.
But that was before her mother had died. They hadn’t played together since.
“What’s his name?” her father asked.
The hot water felt comfortable, familiar, running over Liz’s hands as she worked. It was easier when she didn’t have to face her father, when she went about her business as if it weren’t odd to have him in the house. “Dave.”
“Is he as good a player as his position would suggest?”
“He is, actually.”
“How’d you meet?”
She stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. “He was my coach.”
Now there was no getting around their past involvement in the sport. “I thought you gave up tennis.”
She had, for a while. She’d been waiting for him to resume interest. It was what they did together. It was their thing. But he’d put her off every time she’d asked, until she’d realized that she’d lost that part of her life as well as losing her mother.
“No, I joined a league in college, and kept playing as a hobby when I started working for the airlines. But I didn’t play a lot until after I married Keith and we joined a club near our house.”
“And now?”
“I don’t get out on the court much these days. Not since I moved here.”
“Why? Don’t they have the facilities?”
“They have some really nice courts at the Running Y, if you don’t mind the drive. And the locals have an old court in town. It’s behind the community center over by the cemetery. But it doesn’t see much action. The problem is finding someone other than Keith who plays on my level. Tennis isn’t a popular sport here. We have more barrel racers than tennis players.”
“Maybe we should go over and play a set in the morning,” he suggested. “See what you’ve got.”
Liz imagined serving him a perfect ace and smiled. She’d be happy to show him. But morning seemed a long way off. Especially with Carter’s phone number waiting like a secret treasure in her pocket.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIZ SAT IN THE SEMIDARKNESS, smoothing the slip of paper she’d found beneath her windshield wiper. The clock on the wall across from her kitchen table ticked loudly in the cool, otherwise silent room. Steadily. Inexorably. It was getting late—almost eleven—and that damn clock wouldn’t let her forget it.
Her father had gone to bed at least an hour earlier. She knew she should retire, too. But she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing Carter Hudson standing before her, looking at her with an intensity that could forge steel.
Sighing, she picked up the phone and dialed Dave’s number, her fingers quickly punching in the keys of the already familiar pattern. She’d tried calling him earlier in the evening, hoping a diversion would see her through the night—Dave suddenly seemed much safer than Carter—but he’d been out. Normally, she would have wondered where he was, maybe even obsessed over who he was with. She used those frequent late-night absences to prove to herself he was far too young to be ready for the type of relationship she’d require if she ever fell completely in love with him. But none of that seemed particularly important right now. She was more concerned with her own temptations.
Hello. You know who you’ve reached. Call my cell if you need me. Otherwise leave a message. I’ll get back to you.
At the beep, she hung up and tried his cell. As a rule, she didn’t call him on his cell after ten o’clock, just in case he was doing something she’d rather not know about. He deserved his privacy, and she didn’t want to hear the giggle of another woman in the background. But she was getting desperate. She kept imagining what it would be like to slip out of the house and drive to Carter’s, to have him open the door wearing that unfathomable expression that could mean he was absolutely dying to touch her—or he was completely ambivalent and simply taking what life offered at the moment.
This is Dave. My coaching schedule is full for next week, so if you want an appointment call the club. They’ll add you to my waiting list and I’ll squeeze you in if I can. If you want to talk, text me. I can’t hear in this place.
That gave her some indication as to where he was. Out dancing or drinking, having fun.
After disconnecting, she tapped her fingernails on the table in keeping with the rhythm of the clock. Another five long minutes passed. Finally, in the dim light falling into the room from the hallway, she squinted to make out the numerals on Carter’s note and picked up the handset.
Her stomach filled with butterflies as she dialed. The phone began to ring, but she didn’t give Carter the chance to pick up. She lost her nerve almost immediately. Quietly setting the phone on its cradle, she shoved away from the table and headed down the hall to change.
She couldn’t sit alone any longer, couldn’t unwind enough to sleep and couldn’t let herself go to Carter’s place. She needed a fourth option.
So she decided to follow Dave’s example and went out.
CARTER DIDN’T SEE LIZ COME IN. He didn’t even know she was at the Honky Tonk until he circled the pool table, looking for the best angle for his next shot, and bumped into the guy who’
d challenged him to a game.
“Excuse me,” he said, irritated that his companion hadn’t stepped out of the way as he’d expected. But Jon Small, who’d introduced himself as Councilman Small’s son—as if small-town connections mattered to Carter—still didn’t move. He was too busy gawking at the dance floor. “Man, she’s got a body.”
Turning, Carter spotted Liz dancing with a cowboy he didn’t recognize. She was dressed in a sleeveless white sweater and a short denim skirt, nothing particularly revealing. But that simple skirt, in combination with her high heels, showcased a pair of the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen.
Carter felt an instant reaction, but he bent over the pool table to take his shot. He preferred not to acknowledge the effect she had on him. He wasn’t the type of man to use a woman.
But in his present state, that was the only kind of intimacy he was capable of. And he was beginning to suspect she wanted to use him just as badly. She was the one who’d said “no strings,” as if that were a prerequisite.
“Keith told me you got to help her at the shop today,” Jon said, still staring at Liz.
Carter noted the appreciation in his opponent’s face and the envy in his tone. “You can help her tomorrow, if you like,” he said, hoping Jon would take over. Ducking out of Liz’s life would probably be best for both of them.
“I will, if she’ll wear that skirt when she climbs up one of those ladders,” he said, laughing. “Preferably with some sort of thong underneath.”
He grinned as he mimicked sliding his hands up under the back of her skirt, and Carter immediately changed his mind. Jon needed to stay as far away from Liz as possible. He needed to stay away from her, too. And yet he’d left his phone number on the windshield of her car and had stopped by the drugstore on his way home.
“Shit,” he grumbled, not particularly pleased to realize that he couldn’t ignore her as he wanted to.
“What?” Jon asked without looking at him.
“Nothing.”
Since Jon didn’t seem to be in any hurry to resume the game, Carter gave up and joined him in watching Liz. She tossed her long hair back and smiled at her companion as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Until she spotted Carter. Then her lips parted and her eyes widened as if he’d kissed her—and he knew it wasn’t any use fighting the attraction. They’d make love. Tonight.
