“I don’t think they call it that anymore,” Ashlee said.
I bet they don’t.
“Guess my mom and I will be back next week. When do you work?”
As expected, Ashlee misunderstood and lit up with another lip-sticked smile. “I’m here every day but Tuesday.”
Tuesday it is, he thought. But as he turned to leave, he saw rain falling in sheets outside. It might be sixty degrees out, but he’d have hypothermia by the time he made it home. Squinting, he spotted the abandoned flower shop across the street. That prompted him to make the stupidest decision of the day.
“Hey,” he said, “can I talk to the mayor?”
“The mayor?” she said. “Not without an appointment.”
Greg was done with You-can-just-call-me-Ashlee. He started for the hallway. “His office is this way, right?”
“Wait. You can’t go back there!”
Watch me.
He strode down the hallway, Ashlee hot on his heels. There were four doors, two on each side. Checking the nameplates, Greg found the one he needed: Lucas Phillips, Mayor.
“You can’t go in there,” Ashlee said, hands on her hips.
Greg knocked hard.
“Yes?” he heard from the other side.
That was invitation enough.
Entering, Greg saw the mayor seated behind a small desk, a man around sixty years old, and rounder than anybody should be given the global financial crisis. He looked up at Greg with a scowl.
“What is this?”
“Sorry, Mayor Phillips,” Ashlee said. “I tried to stop him.”
“Excuse my interruption,” Greg said, “but I’m new to Shelton, and I’ve just got a quick question for you.”
Mayor Phillips folded up the New Day Times and held out his hand. Greg went to shake it before he realized that wasn’t what he wanted. For the third time in ten minutes, Greg pulled out his yellow card. The mayor swiped it through his own verifying machine before handing it back.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Pierce?” the mayor asked.
“I’ve got a…” Greg turned, remembering Ashlee by the door.
The mayor waved her off. “That will be all, Miss Lyon.”
Ashlee stomped off.
Greg shut the door and began again. “I’ve got a business proposal for you, Mayor Phillips.”
With a snort, the mayor picked up his paper again. “We don’t do business with citizens.”
“But this business venture could benefit yourself and Shelton Township as much as it would me”—and my clan. “It could bring this downtown back to life and increase your revenue, possibly also the taxable citizenship.”
The mayor didn’t look up but neither did he tell him to leave, so Greg stood, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, feeling suddenly nervous. He hadn’t planned to speak with the mayor until he could get all his ducks in a row—especially the most important duck, Carrie. But he started anyway.
“I hear the black market is booming in this area, sir. People say it even corrupted some of your patrolmen, and two of them were arrested recently.”
That got the mayor’s attention. His eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”
So Jamansky and Nielsen’s arrests weren’t public knowledge. Too bad. Oliver could use some good public image right now.
Greg kept his face impassive. “The citizens are talking, sir.”
“Where? Who?” the mayor said, face reddening with rage.
Panicked, Greg charged on. “I’ve got a plan to make the trading business legal again. What if we start up a—”
“Get out,” the mayor said, seething.
“Beg your pardon?”
The man pointed to the door. “You think you’re the first person to come waltzing in here and try to take over my town? How do you even know so much about the black market? Are you working it? And who do you think you are, purporting that my patrolmen are corrupt? Get out before I have you arrested!”
“But—”
“Out!” The mayor reached for the phone to call for backup. That was all the encouragement Greg needed.
“Thank you for your time,” Greg said, and then he quickly bowed out.
Ashlee met him around the corner, arms folded, smug expression. Greg stormed past her and into the rain without a backward glance. Even before he reached the end of the street, he was drenched.
Halfway around the corner, he stopped and doubled back to the nearest blossoming tree. He broke off a branch that was three times larger than he needed before sprinting home.
five
CARRIE DEALT ANOTHER ROUND of cards to CJ, May, and Mariah.
“I hate the thought of posting guards again,” she said. “Oliver said to not worry yet, but I still think we should warn everyone. Maybe tonight at the adult meeting?”
CJ gave a long, tired sigh. Since Jeff had attacked him, he talked less than he used to—and he’d never been much of a talker. He stroked his thick, white beard. “Yes. I suppose you can bring it up.”
Me? Carrie hoped he would break the news. She had enough enemies right now.
“Have you told Greg yet?” Mariah asked, picking up her cards. “He’ll wanna know before the meeting.”
“No.” Carrie would rather have all her teeth yanked out. Greg wasn’t going to be happy about Oliver getting a partner. Although in a way, he’d been preparing their clan for such a scenario. Blocking off the southern entrance. Consolidating to the cul-de-sac. Really, if anyone should break the news to the clan, it should be Greg, who basically ran the adult meetings anyway.
CJ heard the hesitation in her voice and smiled. “Would you like me to tell my grandson about Oliver?”
“Yes. Please,” Carrie said a little too desperately.
Greg’s family chuckled. They knew him well.
Smiling, Carrie adjusted her cards. The storm dimmed the natural light in May’s kitchen. Still, candles weren’t permitted this time of year, so she squinted to make out her hand, hoping her partner, Mariah, had better cards. Greg’s mom had learned the rules to Euchre quickly, but she and Carrie still struggled as partners. After fifty-plus years of marriage, May and CJ virtually read each other’s minds, making them insurmountable opponents.
“I pass,” Carrie said.
May passed, too, which left it up to Greg’s mom. Mariah propped up her head as she surveyed her cards, looking worn down and beat. She’d spent the morning in bed and had only come to her parents’ house for a diversion while Richard helped Dylan fix a door. Dark bags hung under her green eyes, and her handkerchief stayed on the table, stained with brown spots from months of coughing up blood. Carrie offered to play by the couch so Mariah could lie down, but Mariah insisted she’d been “lazy enough” for one day.
“Jacks are good, right darlin’?” Mariah asked.
Carrie nodded. “Depends on the—”
May slapped her hand. “No table talk. She’s just trying to intimidate her father.”
“Who me?” Mariah said innocently. Then she flashed Carrie a smile that showed more exhaustion than she probably realized. “Well, I think I finally gotta good hand, so I’ll choose—” A cough interrupted her. She snatched her handkerchief and doubled over, hacking a gurgling, sickening cough.
As the coughing grew, May closed her eyes, CJ turned white, and Carrie offered a quick prayer, wondering how Greg could stand watching his mom get worse every day. Mariah forbade him from finding medical help in other clans. Any more of this, though, and Carrie would strike out on her own—either that or force her to go to the government hospital in Aurora. Mariah had her citizenship now. There was no reason she shouldn’t get help other than money, but money was overrated anyway. The rest of them managed without.
Once the coughing settled, Mariah looked horribly pale, but she just started where she left off. “I’d better choose hearts. I figure it’s always best to choose the heart, right darlin’?”
Carrie couldn’t answer. A smudge of blood stained Mari
ah’s chin.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Greg’s mom realized what Carrie had. She grabbed her handkerchief and wiped her chin. “Just fine. Tell me, where did Amber and Zach run off to today?”
Typical Mariah, changing the subject away from herself. The longer Carrie knew her, the more she admired her strength. So she followed her lead. “Amber’s with Braden, and Zach is at Tucker’s, working on their slingshots.”
“Slingshots? Like Greg’s?”
Carrie smiled. “Yes.” Ever since the first baseball game, Zach had worshipped Greg. “I shouldn’t have let Zach go, but he’s been fighting me a lot lately. Amber, too.” She sighed. “When will they grow out of this snarky stage?”
“Don’t ask me,” Mariah said. “My boy still hasn’t.”
Carrie choked back a laugh. Greg definitely had his snarky moments.
“I’m afraid,” CJ said, motioning across the table, “that Greg gets that from a certain grandparent…”
It took May a second to understand her husband’s inference. Then she glared at him. “Are you going to yap all day, CJ? It’s your turn.”
CJ winked at Carrie. “See what I mean?”
That time Carrie laughed outright. So did Mariah, which got her coughing again, which extinguished all the joy in the room again. Mariah’s eyes squeezed shut as she struggled to catch a breath. She claimed she never felt pain, but anyone looking at her knew differently. When she recovered, the only sound in the dim house was the rain hitting the window.
Mariah shook her head. “In all seriousness, Carrie, the best parenting advice I ever got was from this woman right here. Do you remember what you told me, Mama, back when Greg and Kendra were teenagers?”
May looked too shaken to respond. She stared at Mariah. Smiling sadly, Mariah squeezed her hand.
“You told me to worry less and love more. Remember tellin’ me that? It’s great advice, don’t you think?” Mariah smiled. “Worry less. Love more.”
Soft tears rolled down May’s wrinkled cheeks. Mariah obviously wasn’t talking about Zach and Amber anymore. She was trying to help her own mother cope with the inevitable future. How could Mariah be so calm about her prognosis? How would May and CJ live without her?
How would Greg?
“You’ll see,” Mariah said back to Carrie. “Love trumps worry every time. Amber and Zach will turn out just fine.”
The next round of cards was quiet. Mariah only made it halfway through before she set down her cards.
“On second thought, I’ve got a sudden headache. Do y’all mind if I lie down?”
Carrie looked up in surprise. Mariah never complained about anything.
“Of course not. Can I get you something?” Carrie said. “Pillow or blanket? Or maybe a drink of water?”
“Nah. I just feel bad deserting you. Not that I was doin’ you much good as your partner anyhow.”
Mariah pushed her chair back and struggled to stand. Her face went white and her arms shook as she clutched the table. Both Carrie and CJ stood to help her, but she waved them back like she always did. Grabbing the wall for support, she inched toward the couch. As she lowered herself onto the cushions, she gasped softly in pain.
Stubborn woman.
Her parents watched her solemnly.
Carrie sighed. “Actually, I should probably go. I need to get home and make dinner.”
“No!” Mariah said sharply. Carrie turned in surprise. “You don’t wanna head on home with all this rain. Not yet. Play a bit longer. It’d make Mama real happy.”
Carrie wasn’t in the mood to get soaked outside, and it did feel wonderful to spend time with her surrogate grandparents again. She’d hardly seen them since Mariah and Greg moved in—and Greg turned Rottweiler on her. Plus, with Mariah’s coughing bouts, May and CJ needed a distraction.
Carrie gathered the cards. “Alright. What do you think? Should we switch to a game of—”
The Trenton’s front door swung open, and a blast of damp air whooshed in. Greg flew inside, soaked through.
“If I’d known it was gonna rain,” Greg said, stomping his feet, “I never woulda gone today.”
His brown hair looked black with rain, his ratty jeans hung low on his hips, and his light blue UNC t-shirt clung to his chest in a way that made Carrie blush. When Greg had first moved in, most the women had drooled over his unnaturally good looks—even the married ones. Not Carrie, who struggled to see past his initial rudeness. Now she felt like she had to look away to avoid staring. She hated herself for being so shallow. Looks didn’t matter. She would like Greg regardless of how he looked. She hoped.
Reaching up, she fidgeted with her plain-Jane braid, wishing she’d done something better with her hair that morning.
Greg used the corner of his drenched shirt to wipe his dripping face, and Carrie diverted her gaze again.
“Man, does it ever quit rainin’ in Illinois?” he asked.
“Not this time of year,” CJ said. “Right, Carrie?”
Greg’s eyes snapped up, spotting Carrie at the kitchen table with his grandparents. She waited for a smile of hello, the small one he seemed to reserve just for her. It didn’t come. Instead, he gave her a curious look, probably wondering why she was at his grandparents’ house playing cards for the first time in months on the very afternoon he had moved out.
Carrie smiled weakly, her own version of ‘hi.’
“How’d it go in town?” his mom asked, settling back on the couch.
Greg slipped off his soaked shoes. “Bad. I was hopin’ to talk to Richard about it. Is he around?”
“No, but he’ll be back soon.” Mariah closed her eyes. “Carrie told us it was gonna downpour, so we’ve been playin’ cards ever since. Guess she forgot to tell you?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the warning,” Greg said.
Carrie didn’t miss the bite in his tone. She shuffled the cards faster.
Greg walked into the hallway, grabbed a towel from the linen closet, and rubbed his hair, face, and arms, all pale with cold. If she’d known he was going into town, she would have warned him. She’d been tracking the weather for five years and could predict storms fairly well. Of course, that would have required a conversation.
“I didn’t think you were coming back until Thanksgiving,” his grandpa said. “How’s the new house?”
“Clean. Real clean.” At that, Greg gave Carrie the slightest nod of gratitude.
She felt the blood drain from her face. He knew. He wasn’t supposed to know it had been her because she hadn’t just swept and mopped, she’d baked muffins—like a desperate girl flinging herself at the hot guy next door. Thankfully he didn’t elaborate. Who knew how his family would exploit it.
May looked up and finally noticed her grandson. Her hearing worsened by the day, and she usually missed half of anything happening in a room.
“Gregory,” May said. “You came back! You’re just in time, too. We’re playing cards, and Carrie needs a partner.”
Carrie stiffened.
So did Greg.
No, May, Carrie begged silently. Don’t play matchmaker. Not now. Greg hated when his grandma threw the two of them together. No, he loathed it. But sadly, May had an accomplice.
“Yes,” his mom said from the couch. “I just deserted poor Carrie, so your timing is perfect.”
His timing was more than perfect.
It was suspicious.
Carrie turned toward the front window, the same window Mariah had faced the entire game. If Carrie was right, Mariah’s “sudden headache” had been caused by nothing more than seeing her son running up the walk. Greg’s mom was every bit the matchmaker May was, only Mariah was usually less obvious about it. But she wasn’t even lying down anymore. She was back on her feet, painfully working her way back into the kitchen.
Carrie scowled. Terminally ill people shouldn’t use their sicknesses like that.
“Thanks,” Greg said, “but Carrie’s better off on her own. I gotta work on
—”
“What?” his mom cut in. “You gotta work on what?”
His eyes flickered to Carrie. “Stuff.”
In that second, in that one simple look, Carrie knew. Sasha had been right. Greg was avoiding her.
Why?
Mariah’s chin lifted. “It’s pourin’ rain, and you gotta wait for Richard anyhow. So sit, play, and be sociable.”
She pulled out a kitchen chair for him.
Mother and son stared each other down, looking like twins with their brown hair, green eyes, and rock-hard expressions. Carrie could guess Greg’s thoughts well enough: how do you avoid someone when you sat across from them as their Euchre partner? But unfortunately for Greg, he’d been born into a family of women who were more stubborn than he was. In the end, he caved.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He sat across from Carrie, look of gratitude long gone. Carrie shuffled the deck ten more times, mind spinning. Barely a few weeks ago, Greg had been her best friend, laughing, teasing, and talking about anything and everything. He’d been there for her when Jeff and everyone turned against her. He’d held her together after Jenna’s death. He had almost kissed her—twice.
What did I do?
“Now,” Mariah said, “they’re playin’ this game called Euchre. It’s a Midwest game.”
“Never heard of it.” He started to stand, but his mom pushed him back down.
“Quit fightin’ me,” she said. “I don’t feel good.”
Instantly he went contrite. “Sorry. You wanna lie down again? Or I can take you on home if you need.”
“I’ll rest again in a bit,” she said. “For now, you need to pay attention before you and Carrie get creamed.”
“CJ and I could be on a team,” Carrie offered. Then Greg wouldn’t be stuck with her as a partner. “I don’t think May and CJ should be allowed to play together anymore anyway.”
“No!” Greg’s grandma suddenly said. “You and Gregory have to be partners. You make such a lovely team.”
May grabbed their hands and brought them together in the center of the table. Carrie jolted as Greg’s cold hand slid around hers, but May just broke into a wide grin, wide enough to show her missing molars. “I’ll even let you two table talk all you want.”
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 44
