New Leaf

by Catherine Anderson

  In answer to his question, she said, “When Sunny’s pimp beats Holden up to make him pay her more money.”

  “Ouch. You’re a wicked lady, Taffeta Brown.” He took a sip of his coffee, making even that ordinary gesture seem sexy. “Have you read Robinson Crusoe?” he asked.

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “You’d be surprised how many people never read the classics nowadays. They’re all into popular fiction or movies, mostly movies because they can go almost brain-dead while watching them.”

  The next thing she knew, they were deep in a conversation about the story and nearly an hour passed without her realizing it. If her coffee hadn’t gone cold, she might not have noticed the time lapse even then. Barney Sterling stimulated her intellectually, not to mention in a variety of other ways.

  Startled by how much time she’d wasted, she said, “I truly do have work to do. It’ll get busy here soon, and I won’t have my till set up.”

  “You don’t set it up before you open?”

  “No. I rarely get a customer in here before nine, or later. I open and then set up while it’s still slow.”

  He began gathering their used napkins to put them in the now empty sack. As he put the lids back on the coffee cups, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

  This was taking entirely too much for granted, Taffeta decided. Did he expect this to be a regular thing? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she retorted.

  If she’d hoped to faze him, she was totally unsuccessful. “Sure it is. We’re partners in sin. It’s a great way to start the day. Do you have a favorite pastry? Jake has a fabulous selection.”

  All Taffeta really wanted was a taste of him, and that thought alarmed her. “Don’t you ever work?”

  “My shift doesn’t start until ten and ends at six. You should try it. It could be argued that opening every morning at eight is a waste of your time because you get no business for over an hour. Don’t you ever want to stay up late and sleep in?”

  “I utilize the time for filling out orders and cleaning shelves. It works for me.”

  He touched the brim of his hat. “Good-bye, Taffeta. Try not to do anything too wild or impulsive for the rest of the day.”

  She nearly said she’d already made that mistake by talking with him, but she managed to choke back the words. He left as suddenly as he’d come, and the quietness of her store closed in around her again.

  • • •

  Barney visited her shop for three mornings running, arriving shortly after eight and leaving at a quarter after nine, which put her in a pinch for time before customers started coming in. Yet Taffeta found herself looking forward to their talks. He kept the conversations impersonal for the most part. She wondered if he realized that all his questions the first morning had made her uncomfortable.

  Right before he left on Thursday, he asked, “What do you have planned for Saturday night?”

  Taffeta realized that he was about to invite her out on a date. And, oh, how she yearned to accept. When in his company, she didn’t think of Sarah constantly or dwell as much on the past. He also made her laugh, something she hadn’t done spontaneously in a long time.

  “It’s my night to relax, watch a movie or read until late, and sleep in the next morning.”

  “Can we change it up this week? How about going out to dinner with me? I’ll let you pick the restaurant.”

  Taffeta squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Barney, but I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m just asking you out on a date. Big difference.”

  Taffeta shook her head, determined to get rid of him before she did something she’d regret. Building a life here so she might one day get Sarah back was all that she should focus on. “I have a no-dating rule, and I never make exceptions.”

  He cocked his head to study her. She had the eerie feeling that he saw far more in her eyes than she wished to reveal. “Is it too soon after your divorce?”

  Taffeta nearly grimaced. Her marriage to Phillip had been a disaster from start to finish. Even so, she grabbed at the excuse the way a rock climber might a well-anchored rope. “Yes, that’s exactly it. It was a messy ending, and I’m still packing a lot of baggage.”

  He shrugged and smiled, taking the rejection with good grace. Then he stepped over to jot something down on the notepad by the register. “My cell number,” he said. “If you ever change your mind about the no-dating rule, give me a call.”

  She stared after him as he exited her shop. When he reached the sidewalk, which was finally free of ice, she feasted her eyes on him, admiring the fluid strength of his body, the sure way he stepped, and the rhythmic swing of his arms. She wanted to run outside and call him back. Everything about him felt so right, so absolutely right.

  Depression dogged Taffeta all that day and into the lonely evening. Would he take no as truly meaning no, and not return? Did she even want him to return? Well, okay, she wanted him to, but only if he discussed impersonal subjects and didn’t ask her out. She found herself blinking back unwanted tears. Would she never have a normal life? She’d been deprived of that during her childhood, and then, during her marriage, things had gone from bad to much worse.

  Later that night, Taffeta lay in bed with her light on so she could fall asleep staring at her daughter’s photograph. What a sweet and beautiful little face. Sarah had Phillip’s brown eyes and Taffeta’s thick dark hair.

  The little girl’s image blurred as Taffeta lost her battle against tears. She wrapped her arms around herself. Normally she tried never to cry. But, as Barney said, everyone had to sin a little sometimes. She wept until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  • • •

  Barney didn’t usually drink alone, but that night he indulged in three beers, guzzling one right after another. He couldn’t get Taffeta Brown off his mind. He felt as if he’d had something possibly wonderful right at his fingertips, and then she had put the kibosh on it. All the signals from her had been promising. She’d been hesitant and wary at first, but then she’d started to relax, allowing him glimpses of who she really was. He’d seen nothing about her that he didn’t like—a lot. He didn’t get why she wasn’t at least willing to explore the possibilities with him. He sensed that she felt the incredibly special connection building between them. Why did she insist on turning her back on it?

  Barney didn’t count himself as being one of the handsomest guys around, but he wasn’t homely, either. He had a respectable job. Taffeta didn’t know that he owned a home, which was also a plus for most women. He had everything lined out to step up to the plate when the right lady came along.

  Too soon, she’d said. With a sigh, he finished off his last beer and made himself accept that she had issues. He knew enough about women to understand that recovering from a divorce wasn’t something you could hurry along. Maybe after a few months, she’d be ready to leave the past behind and move ahead with something new. Until then, he had to shrug it off. He’d taken his best shot. No big deal. She wasn’t even that pretty.

  Only Barney knew that she hid her natural beauty. In different clothing, with a touch of makeup and her hair loose, she’d been gorgeous. Why was she so determined to hide her light under a bushel? It made no sense to him.

  At least, he consoled himself, she wasn’t dating anyone else, even if she didn’t want to date him.

  • • •

  Taffeta awakened the next morning with the awful feeling that something was wrong. She leaped from bed, her first thought being that something had happened to Sarah. Ridiculous. She was just in a sad mood. That was all.

  After staggering sleepily to the bathroom, she stared at her puffy eyelids and red nose. Some women looked beautiful after a good cry. Taffeta wasn’t one of them. And, along with a ravaged face, she always had a headache the next mornin
g. She knew from experience that she wouldn’t look normal again until late in the afternoon. Thank goodness Barney wouldn’t drop by her store today. He’d instantly know she’d been weeping. He wasn’t a man who missed much. She couldn’t withstand a barrage of questions right now. She might lose it and answer them honestly.

  After a quick shower, Taffeta put ice on her swollen eyes. She didn’t want all her customers to see her like this. Sitting at the table with a cup of bitter black coffee, she held the pack against each eye socket until her brow and cheekbones throbbed.

  She was on her way back to the bathroom to check her face when her cell phone rang. She dashed back to the tiny kitchen to collect it from the table. With a glance at the caller ID panel, she saw that it was Bud Pierce, the private investigator she’d hired in Erickson, Oregon, to give her weekly reports on Sarah’s well-being.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “I’ve got disturbing news, Ms. Brown, and I’ll apologize in advance for failing to tell you sooner.”

  “Is Sarah all right?” Taffeta heard the panic in her voice. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

  “She’s fine for the moment, but the situation isn’t good.”

  Taffeta sank onto a chair. What the investigator told her next knocked her orderly little world clear off its axis.

  • • •

  Barney’s personal cell phone seldom rang while he was working. Mostly only his family members had his number, and they knew not to bother him unless it was an emergency. He drew the communication device from his jacket pocket and took his gaze off the road just long enough to see who was calling. Taffeta? He answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?” The truck bounced over a rut as he pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. “Sorry about the noise. You caught me driving. What’s up?”

  “I, um, was wondering if you’d meet me tonight for dinner in Crystal Falls.”

  Her voice sounded shaky. Barney decided it must be due to a bad connection. “I thought you had a no-dating rule.”

  “I do,” she replied. “Or at least I did. Please don’t say no. I have a proposition for you.”

  A proposition? What the hell did that mean? “Where do you want to eat?”

  She gave him the name of a little out-of-the-way Italian place. He knew of several establishments that served much better food and at least offered decent ambience. Maybe she wasn’t familiar with Crystal Falls. Or maybe she didn’t wish to be seen with him. And why the sudden about-face? Yesterday, she’d given him the boot. Now she was asking him out on a date?

  Hell. Why not? “Sure,” he agreed. “What time works for you?”

  “Seven is good.”

  He wondered why she wanted to take separate cars. It made more sense to take one vehicle. Maybe she was just extra cautious. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to pass on this unexpected opportunity to see her again. “Seven it is. It’ll be tight timing for me, but I can make it.”

  “Thank you, Barney. It means the world to me. I’ll see you at seven.”

  When the call ended, Barney stared through the windshield, going back over the conversation. It meant the world to her? Pretty strong language for a first date. A proposition? Some kind of business opportunity, maybe? He wouldn’t let himself hope for anything personal. She’d made it pretty clear that any kind of relationship was out of the question for her right now.

  “It means the world to me.” She’d meant that. The words echoed in his ears with the sound of her emotion-laden voice.

  He couldn’t put his finger on the reason why, but he had a bad feeling about this.

  Chapter Four

  Once his shift ended at six, Barney got into his blue Dodge Ram and raced for home. He had no time for a shower. After throwing on civilian clothes, he grabbed a quick shave, slapped on aftershave, and then added a splash of cologne. His horses would get fed a little late tonight, but it wouldn’t harm them. Depending on the road conditions, the drive to Crystal Falls took anywhere from a half hour to forty-five minutes. He didn’t want to be late.

  The dumpy little Italian place was even worse than Barney remembered. The gravel parking lot had iced-over mud holes deep enough to bury a Volkswagen Bug. The pale blue clapboard siding of the building needed paint, the windows looked cloudy with grime, and when he ascended the steps to the entrance, he felt the wooden planks give a little under his weight.

  The interior wasn’t much better. The stench of rancid oil blasted him. Pots of fake green ivy sat on dividing walls that formed eating areas, and the leaves looked coated with dust. The red-checkered tablecloths were plastic. The flatware sat on paper napkins. He saw only two couples in the dining room and a handful of people at the bar in the back. Taffeta sure knew how to pick them.

  Glancing around, Barney didn’t see her. He concluded that she hadn’t arrived yet. When an older woman came to seat him, Barney held up two fingers and said, “Do you have a secluded table where I can watch the entrance? My date isn’t here yet.”

  The waitress pulled two plastic-covered menus from a rack and led him to a bistro table tucked into a corner near the bar. Barney took one of the two stools and watched the front door through a tangle of gray-green ivy leaves.

  His breath hitched in his throat when Taffeta finally walked in. She wore a pink, figure-hugging knit top, a tight black skirt that reached to just above her knees, and sassy strapped heels the same color as the skirt. Boy, oh, boy, did the girl ever have legs! To hell with dinner. He wanted to go straight for dessert, which, if he had his druthers, would be her.

  He waved so she would see him. She nodded and moved toward him with purposeful strides and a seductive swing of her hips. Holy crap. He’d known Taffeta could be a knockout. Kissable pink gloss shimmered on her lips again. Her eyes, deftly enhanced with shadow, seemed to dominate her face. Not that he could stay focused on her face for very long. She was dressed to kill, and she was stunning enough to knock a man on his ass from fifty feet away. This was a hell of a turnaround from a woman who came to work disguised as the local bag lady and had told him point-blank that she didn’t date.

  With an upward twist of one hip, she perched on the tallish stool across from him.

  “Thank you so much for meeting me,” she said.

  The shakiness he’d heard in her voice earlier hadn’t been due to a bad phone connection, after all. With visibly trembling hands, she toyed with her flatware. Under the blush that she had applied to her cheeks, her skin was drained of color. She was one very upset lady.

  “Taffeta, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She finally met his gaze. “Can I trust you with a secret that may destroy my life in Mystic Creek?”

  That wasn’t at all what Barney had expected to hear. He searched her eyes and saw both fear and panic in their blue depths. “Taffeta, I’m a county deputy. I can’t give you a blanket promise like that. What if you’ve done something illegal?”

  She rushed to assure him, “I haven’t! Not really, anyway. And I’m paying my debt to society.”

  His stomach lurched. “You’re what?”

  “I’m on probation,” she blurted. Then she stared at him, looking on the verge of tears, with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Please don’t tell anyone, Barney. I’ve invested a lot of time and money to build a life for myself in Mystic Creek. I don’t want to start over again somewhere else.”

  “Did you say probation?” He could scarcely believe his ears. Taffeta didn’t strike him as the criminal type, and he prided himself on being an excellent judge of character. “What did you do wrong?”

  “Nothing!”

  He shook his head. “A person isn’t put on probation for doing nothing.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “I was wrongly convicted of child abuse. I didn’t do anything of the sort, I swear. My husband lied about me in court to discred
it me so he could get a divorce without making his father mad.”

  As a lawman, Barney had heard way too many I-didn’t-do-it stories, and so far, hers wasn’t very convincing. “He accused you of child abuse in order to get a divorce? That doesn’t ring true, Taffeta. Why would a grown man go to such lengths, if he simply wasn’t happy and wanted out of the marriage?”

  She rested an elbow on the table and cupped a hand over her eyes. “Barney, I swear to you that it’s the truth.” Then she locked gazes with him before she continued speaking. “Phillip is an immature, selfish man who lives way beyond his means. He loves fancy clothes, racy new cars, and young women. Prior to our marriage, he wheedled money out of his wealthy parents to maintain his lifestyle. When he was almost thirty, his father finally got tired of it and gave him one year to grow up, get married, and act responsibly. Phillip decided to create the illusion of what his dad wanted to see, and he started hunting for a wife.”

  The waitress came to take their orders. Barney signaled that they weren’t ready with a slight shake of his head. When she walked away, he said to Taffeta, “And he found you?”

  “Yes,” she answered with a nod. “I worked in a sports bar to put myself through college. I’d paid a pretty price for a fake ID and wasn’t yet twenty when we met. Phillip decided that I would be the perfect stage prop. His father is a high-end attorney at a fancy law firm. Phillip is, or was, a junior partner. I had just enough education not to be an embarrassment to him. I was young and easily impressed. Phillip charmed my socks off.” She gestured helplessly with her hands. “I thought he was wonderful.”

  “But he wasn’t,” Barney guessed.

  “No, definitely not. The ink was barely dry on our marriage license when he stopped bothering to be charming. He was far too immature and self-serving to have children. I would eventually have ended up leaving him, I’m sure, but I accidentally got pregnant. I was on the Pill, got a bad case of strep throat, and the antibiotics rendered the contraceptive ineffective.”