The Single Dad's Redemption (Aspen Creek Crossroads Book 3)

by Roxanne Rustand

  Tours of some of the grand old homes in town and horse-drawn carriage rides up and down Main were offered, as well as golf and tennis tournaments out at the public golf course.

  He lingered in front of a florist shop and studied the array of flowering plants and, in a cooler visible from the sidewalk, some colorful floral arrangements. He had no idea what any of them were, but he found himself wondering which one Keeley would like the most.

  Not that he had the extra money right now. That trip to the store this morning had eaten up his earnings for the first four days here, and he still needed to pay for his truck repairs.

  But she was a woman who deserved flowers. Deserved a pretty home and a good husband who could provide for her well, so she wouldn’t have to work so hard.

  He didn’t fit the bill on any score.

  That was why he had declined her dinner offer, and why he was going to be more careful about keeping his distance in the future.

  With his troubling prison background, a vindictive ex-wife, a son to raise and no clear career options in sight, the best thing he could do for Keeley would be to leave town...no matter how drawn he was to her.

  He turned away from the store and walked back to his temporary home, where he found a note on the table tucked under a mason jar filled with yellow, red and white flowers clearly picked from one of the gardens in the backyard.

  The irony didn’t escape him.

  While he’d been looking through the florist shop window with empty pockets, she’d gone ahead and left him a note and a cheery bouquet that she’d picked herself.

  Connor—hope you don’t mind that I stopped in. There’s a plate of lasagna plus some garlic bread and romaine salad in your fridge, and a plate of brownies on the counter. It will all keep if you don’t want it tonight.

  Tomorrow is a big day at the store. See you at 10!

  Thanks,

  Keeley.

  The aroma of buttery garlic bread, rich meat sauce, fresh Parmesan and mozzarella wafted from the refrigerator when he opened the door. His pot of chili didn’t even come close to the promise of such sensory pleasure.

  When had he ever known someone like her?

  His mother had walked out on her family and had rarely kept contact with her grieving kids. His own wife had paid little attention to her wedding vows. But Keeley was so different from the other women in his life—resolved to care for her obstinate father despite his protests, determined to shelter waifs, be they stray cats or troubled teens. She’d even taken in an ex-con like him.

  Connor was glad his truck would be done in a few weeks, so he could be on his way.

  Because the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Friday dawned bright and sunny, with the streets already filling with tourist traffic and the promise of a successful weekend.

  Red was scowling at the front door when Keeley unlocked it. “Is Connor here?”

  “Um, just a minute.” She went to the storeroom, where he was unpacking and price-stickering Wisconsin-themed Christmas ornaments, and waved for him to come up front.

  Red cleared his throat. “You know that truck of yours? The problem ain’t what I thought.”

  Connor jammed his thumbs in his jeans’ pockets. “And?”

  “I’d hoped it was the tranny, but you’ve got a bigger problem. Had the truck long?”

  “No...just a couple weeks.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Red winked. “I’d heard you’ve been out of circulation for a while. Must have been quite an exper—”

  “Red.” Keeley interrupted him with a warning look. “About the truck?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve been real busy and didn’t have time to take a good look till this morning. Wish I had—’cause I coulda ordered parts by now if you really want to fix it.”

  Connor’s jaw clenched. “What’s wrong?”

  “Cracked engine block. The best fix is to go ahead and replace the engine.” Red dug in his pockets and withdrew a scrap of paper. “You’ve got a Number 53 engine block that’s known for this problem. Come down to the shop, if you want to see the damage yourself. Then you can Google your options.”

  “It ran perfectly when I test-drove it.”

  “I’m sure it did—for a while. Someone tried to repair the crack with a J-B weld, but that’s usually a temporary fix because of the wall thickness there. Eventually they crack again.”

  “So the options are...?”

  “A new engine block or a decent used one from a salvage yard. Or just sell the truck to a junkyard for salvage and buy something else.”

  “If you repaired it, could I get three or four thousand miles out of it?”

  “It’s already been repaired at least once, so I doubt it. And if I can’t guarantee my work, I won’t do it.” Red shrugged. “You might find someone else who’ll fix it, but I figure you’d be throwing that money away.”

  “What would a used engine cost?”

  “A fraction of the cost of a new one. I’m guessing maybe $700 to $1,200 plus shipping costs—unless I can find one nearby and can go pick it up myself. I’ll start looking, if that’s the way you want to go.”

  “And installation?”

  “Labor, fluids, miscellaneous parts...rough estimate, maybe $700.” Red scratched his chin, thinking. “I’ll treat you fair. Though once I tear into the truck, I might find other problems.”

  From his bleak expression Connor was probably visualizing his plans to leave within two weeks going up in smoke. “That’s almost what I paid for the truck back in Montana.”

  “I don’t care if you decide to fix it or junk it.” Red shrugged. “But it’s gonna take a while to find the parts, so if you’re in any kind of hurry, the quicker you decide, the better.”

  Keeley glanced between the two men. “I know nothing about cars, but if that truck was yours, what would you do?”

  “I’d go through it to check for other major problems, to see if it’s even worth doing the engine.” Red took off his grease-stained Wisconsin Badgers ball cap and scratched his head. “If it is, then I’d hunt for a low-mileage, used engine in good shape. That way, it could be back on the road for under two grand and be driven for years. For the same amount you might find a used car, but I can guar-un-tee at that price you’ll be buying someone else’s problems and would soon be spending a lot of money on that one.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at the poster-size calendar on the wall, Connor hesitated then looked at Keeley. “Could you use me for a few weeks?”

  “Of course. I’ll always need an employee, and right now you’re it,” she said fervently. “I have no other prospects at the moment. So however long you need to be in town is fine with me.”

  “Thanks.”

  She bit her lower lip. “But as much as I appreciate you being here, have you thought about flying? It would sure be faster.”

  “I did do some checking on flights, but if I flew, last-minute tickets would cost as much as fixing my engine. Then I’d need to buy or lease a vehicle once I got to Detroit so I could search for Marsha, then try to find a lawyer. I have no idea how many meetings it will take to work everything out.”

  “True. Plus any court dates, and seeing Josh as much as you can. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It could be several weeks or even longer, while I try to regain shared custody. So I’m better off waiting for my truck.” He looked at Red. “I’ll go with a used engine. Any idea how long it will take to get the truck running?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Depends on when I can find the right engine, when it can be shipped and then when I can fit in the installation once it arrives. A couple weeks—maybe longer. No guarantees.”

  Keeley met Connor’s eyes after Red left. “That’s a lot of
maybes. Have you ever had anything like this done in the past?”

  “Replace an engine? Not any of mine, but I watched a few times when I was a kid. My dad and the foreman always did it. When you’re isolated in Texas ranch country, you learn to do a lot of things on your own.”

  “So you think this will go well? I mean, Red’s a great guy but—”

  The bells over the front door jangled and Todd walked in, his gray uniform starched and pressed, his service belt highly polished. He nodded at Keeley but zeroed in on Connor with laser-like intensity.

  “So how are things going for you here, now that you’re a big hero and all?”

  “Todd,” Keeley gasped at his sharp tone. “What has gotten into you?”

  “Could be a matter of some thefts in town. Four, to be exact, and all since your friend came to town.” Todd looked up at Connor and stabbed a pudgy forefinger at his chest. “Colson’s Menswear, Benson’s Gifts, Diana’s Boutique and Main Street Florist Shop. So far.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Connor said quietly.

  “Good grief, Todd.” Keeley threw her hands up in disgust. “Tell me what a man like Connor could possibly want in stores like those.”

  “That isn’t the point.”

  She propped her hands on her hips and glared at the deputy. “Then what is? And tell me—were these thefts breaking and entering, or were they shoplifting? We always have trouble with shoplifting when the tourists start coming into town.”

  “The point is that I need to get to the bottom of this, fast. If the newspaper gets wind of a thief working in town, it would be headline news and could hurt our big tourist weekends. People won’t feel safe.”

  “I had some antique jewelry stolen before Connor ever came to town, and we even knew the most probable suspect. Did you ever catch her? No. So here you are, profiling Connor because he’s an easy solution.”

  Connor glanced between them. “Feel free to get a warrant and search my cabin behind Paul’s house. Or my truck, which will be at Red’s garage until probably forever. I have nothing to hide.”

  Todd’s eyes narrowed on him. “And yet I have a witness. Where were you last night?”

  “This is ridiculous, Todd. Why would he throw away his freedom for—”

  “I’m talking to him, Keeley. Not you.”

  “There’s no need to be rude to her,” Connor said mildly. “I spent the entire day painting one of Paul’s cabins. Keeley came by at around six to have supper with her dad, and I went for a walk out into the country and back. Then I had supper by myself and read for a few hours before turning in.”

  “And during that walk, you seemed mighty interested in the florist shop. Why is that?”

  Keeley snorted. “I can’t believe this. So you think he stole daisies?”

  “They also carry pricey gift items. Some original oil paintings by local artists. Signed and numbered figurines. Any of which could be sold on eBay...by someone who wants to make some easy money.” Todd leveled his gaze at Connor. “And we all know someone who is in a bit of a financial fix, given where he’s been the past five years. And given that his set of wheels is sitting at Red’s.”

  “I’ve never even been on eBay. I would have no idea how to turn stolen items into cash. And I’d have no use for anything those stores might carry. As for the florist, I’m still a little stiff and sore after pulling Kyle from the river and I happened to stop there to catch my breath. I remember thinking Keeley might like some of those flowers, and then I walked on.”

  “So that’s what your so-called witness saw? A man glancing in a window? Give me a break.” Keeley reined in her growing anger. “But it seemed like a simple answer to blame a man who has served time yet was proven innocent of any crimes, so here you are.”

  Todd’s glare wavered. “It’s my job to find the perpetrator.”

  “Then do it. Find the real person who did it,” she snapped. She looked up at Connor. “Have you even been in those stores? Ever?”

  She saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he shook his head.

  “So, Todd—did you find his fingerprints in any of those places? Connor would be in that computer fingerprint system you law-enforcement people use, so it would be easy enough to check. APHID?”

  Todd choked back what might have been a laugh. “AFIS.”

  “Well?”

  “No...no clear prints. But with hundreds of customers coming and going, it would be hard to tell.” He rested a hand on the doorknob then turned back. “Keeley may be your big defender now, but she likes taking on hard-luck cases. Don’t think I won’t be watching you, Rafferty. We may be a small town, but we never, ever, give up until justice is served.”

  * * *

  The job he hadn’t even wanted was proving to be the one way he’d be able to finance the trip to reach his son, and for that Connor was grateful. If everything worked out, he would have enough money for the repairs on his truck just about the time the work was done, and then he could be on his way.

  And working with Keeley had its own rewards—seeing the sparkle in her eyes and hearing her silvery laugh as the customers poured in the door made every hour brighter.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle every time he thought about her defending him from the deputy like an angry mama bear defending her cubs, and he wasn’t even family.

  But while she surprised and delighted him in some new way every day, the customers were another story.

  Pushing, jostling around a display of 75-percent-off ornaments, a gaggle of hefty women wearing sequined casino ball caps managed to knock over a tall spinner rack filled with antique-style greeting cards just before noon.

  Later, a man with a cunning glint in his eyes and a superior attitude unsuccessfully tried to haggle with Keeley on the price of a collector figurine, and two women argued between themselves over the right to buy an antique doll.

  It was nearly six o’clock now and the crowds out on the sidewalk were finally thinning. Most of them seemed to be heading toward the festivities at the fairgrounds on the edge of town, several blocks away.

  Even from here, Connor could hear the raucous sounds of the carnival rides and an indie rock band, and whenever the front door opened the aromas of popcorn, pizza and mini doughnuts wafted in.

  While Keeley assisted a customer dithering over some sort of lace thing, Connor finished ringing up a sale and counted four more customers waiting in line at the register.

  At a commotion coming from the front door, he looked up to see a harried mother tugging an overtired, whining toddler with a dripping ice-cream cone. Before Connor could remind her about the No Food, No Drinks sign on the door, the boy dropped his ice cream on the floor and screamed until his mom cast an apologetic glance toward Keeley and reluctantly dragged him back outside.

  Connor called Bobby to the front for cleanup before helping the next customer in line.

  The boy trudged out a few minutes later with paper towels, a plastic bag and a damp mop, his head bowed.

  As soon as Connor finished with the last customer in line, he rounded the front counter to join him. “Need any help?”

  Bobby shook his head as he dropped a wad of paper towels in the bag then began mopping. He’d been subdued the past two days, with little to say, and had refused to talk about what was bothering him.

  Connor hoped he hadn’t been bullied at school or on the street, but after seeing how the two arrogant girls had shunned him here at the store, it was a definite possibility.

  “After we close, what would you say to asking Keeley if she might want to go to the fairgrounds? Would you like to go on some rides? Maybe get some pizza?”

  Bobby silently shot a sideways glance at him and shook his head, the sad expression in his eyes reflecting none of the anticipation Connor had expected.

  “What kid doesn’t lik
e pizza?” Connor teased, hoping for a smile.

  Bobby shrugged as he grabbed his bucket and headed back to the storeroom. From across the store, Keeley eyed him with concern and then caught Connor’s eye and tipped her head toward the back of the store.

  Connor followed Bobby and watched as he carefully put away the mop and tossed the towels in the trash, then picked up a duster and started for the front of the store. “Wait, Bobby. Is something wrong?”

  The boy shook his head, staring at the floor.

  “Are the kids at school bothering you?”

  Another silent shake of his head.

  “Is everything all right at home?”

  He hesitated then gave a single nod.

  “You do know that Keeley cares about you, right? I’m new around here, so I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. But if you’re in some kind of trouble she would really try to help you. If nothing else, it can really help to just talk things over.”

  “No,” Bobby blurted. He darted a glance at Connor, his eyes wide with fear. Then he shuffled toward the front of the store. “I gotta work now.”

  An hour later the shelves had been restocked and neatened, Bobby had gone home and Keeley had finished up her bookkeeping.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this weekend and I’m thankful that business has been good,” she said with a laugh. “But now I am so ready to go home.”

  Connor went to the storeroom to grab his jacket. “Did Bobby ever talk to you?”

  “Nope. I saw him cuddling the cat a while ago, his head down on Rag’s fur. He just seems so very sad.” She frowned. “I tried to talk to him before he left, but he grabbed his backpack and took off.”

  “He’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner.” Connor thought back to his own troubled teen years. “Not every kid has that.”

  “I just hope everything is all right at home. I might stop over there later with some excuse or another, just to make sure.” She glanced at the clock. “Dad has lots of leftovers for tonight, so I’m not cooking. Want to join me up at the fairgrounds for a bite to eat?”