by Keri Ford
Whereas Violet and Cindy sunk their life savings into their Happily On Your Shelf store, Lanie had a bit more cushion. She had started young helping in the office of her daddy’s junkyard and mechanic shop. Then her brothers expanded everything, requiring more work from her. She’d been pulling in paychecks since she was twelve simply because she could operate a computer. As a twelve-year-old with extra money and little desire to stand out in a crowd, she’d saved a lot. Not enough to transform and renovate old houses, but enough that she could splurge on flowers.
She tucked the last bloom into place and hurriedly filled mulch in to leave a thick layer to combat weeds. It was dark as crap out, but she could practically see the new life around the sign and couldn’t wait to drive by in the morning. But one more thing first: to figure out where to stick it.
If she’d taken more time to think it over, she would have cut a piece of stainless and poked it in the mulch. Instead she’d had little more than a do-it thought and then endless hours with Eriksen on her mind. It wasn’t supposed to rain overnight though, so she drew the mermaid tail on a piece of paper and tucked it under a stick on the edge of the garden.
Car lights illuminated the street, and she hurried back into the deeper shadows of the towering Oaks surrounding the library. She waited in her car long enough to make sure the people driving by were well and gone before she pulled out and headed for home.
Cindy’s car was in the drive, but the house was mostly dark. A front porch light was on and, by the looks of it, a lamp in the living room. Almost home free. Lanie smacked her knees and knocked the dirt off before tracking it inside and risking Cindy’s wrath. Apparently their floors were amazing midcentury. Lanie would just strip in front of the washing machine and run upstairs, then be back down to clean up behind her and nobody would be any wiser. She twisted the knob and eased in the lightly lit house.
Holding her jeans up, she made it as far as three steps when Violet’s daughter, Tara, poked her head around the corner. Lanie yelped.
Tara laughed. “Aunt Lanie? What are you doing?” She frowned. “Why are you filthy?”
Looking into Tara’s eyes, that renewed energy, that sense of purpose overwhelmed Lanie, and she found herself leaning in, anxious to spill all her secrets.
Chapter Four
Trapped. Or maybe entranced. Eriksen just knew he was held prisoner in the memory of the moon reflecting against Lanie’s pearl-glowing hair, the sway of her hips often hidden in oversized pants, and flick of fingers he imagined on his chest as she lifted the towel. The image rolled through his mind hundreds of times and left him shuddering. He couldn’t let it go. Lanie Lange was just something else.
The first time he laid eyes on her last fall it’d been a sock to the gut. In part because there was something there, some knowing with her he couldn’t place, but as he spent more time with her, he was discovering the need to know more ran deeper than some mild curiosity over the past. Because really, as she disappeared into the cabin, fuck the past. He ached to follow behind her and put his hands on curves he doubted many knew existed.
It was a bone-deep need. Something he would have laughed his ass off if another man said such a thing, but he was struck with the craving that sank into his teeth and left his jaws hurting.
His mom snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Eriksen? Anyone home?”
Eriksen blinked, and The Beanstalk came back into focus with the hard plastic chair pressing against his back. He inhaled, catching a whiff of deep-fried life as the picture of Lanie sauntering away faded from his mind. He grabbed his fork. “Yeah. Just lost in thought.”
“I could tell that much. What about?”
A woman so beautiful he couldn’t figure out where the words forming in his head came from. He wasn’t about to tell his mother that though. “Just work stuff.”
She nodded. “How long is Hank in for?”
“He’s not sure. He’s got to be in Los Angeles in two weeks. He may go early, wait, come back. He doesn’t know.”
His mom arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
No it didn’t, but Eriksen wasn’t going to get into that with his mother. Not that he had a lot of information about the funk one of his best friends was drowning in at the moment anyway. He’d tiptoed all around Hank’s mood looking for a clue, and in turn, Hank had sidestepped him.
She poked at green beans, either oblivious to his thoughts or ignoring them. He chuckled. His mom oblivious to gossip. Now that was a funny thought. Lanie Lange really had his tail tied in a knot for him to think it. His mother never missed anything and was ignoring it. Probably collecting information and waiting to trap him in a corner like a professional interrogator.
She casually salted her food and glanced to him with that look of hers. Quirk of her lip, tip of her eyebrow, innocent way her gaze slid away. He braced for her first maneuver as she let out a heavy sigh. “Tish called me.”
And just like that, Eriksen’s appetite was gone with a gut punch. That wasn’t about Hank like he’d hoped. He reached for his tea, wishing it was more long island and less sweet. “Did she now?”
“She did.” His mom’s brow arched. “She wondered if you had changed your number because you weren’t returning her calls or messages. I said not that I know of but maybe so because I didn’t raise a rude son who would behave in such a childish way, but I promised her I would ask.”
“I’m not being childish.” He resisted shoving away from the table. They had been through this so many times he was ready to pound his head on the top.
“So you’re not hiding with your tail between your legs from your ex-wife?”
Why did he agree with having lunch? “I have nothing left to say to her. I made that clear when we signed the divorce papers—which, I’ll remind you, she was happy to sign at the time too.”
“She’s probably realized it was a mistake. You should try to work out your differences.”
He didn’t know who was worse with this hounding. His mother or Tish. Tish, at least, he could ignore. “I’ve told her to stop calling, I’m not interested.”
“I always liked her.”
“I know. And we divorced as friends, and that makes it weird, but we both wanted different things. You can’t work that out.” He didn’t know what caused Tish’s change of heart and didn’t care to find out either. They weren’t getting back together. Their marriage hadn’t been perfect to begin with, and he’d hesitated going into it. If he could go back, he would listen to that little voice in the back of his head. He knew every relationship had their problems. Having the reminder that she saved his life thrown in his face during every argument had worn thin. Reflecting on their marriage, he regarded Tish as more or less an acquaintance. He married her for the simple fact he’d been young and pushed into it because everyone said they should. Hell, they didn’t even have anything in common.
“She seems to want you back. You want…” She flicked her hand. “I don’t know what you want.”
He wasn’t sure he had an answer for that either. To be happy in his own home. Not groan when his wife’s name popped up on his phone? “I’ll figure it out soon enough.”
She flashed him a bright smile. “Sounds to me like getting back together now that you’re older is just the ticket.”
“If I wanted to get back with her, I wouldn’t have moved so far away.” Or divorced her in the first place. The moment he realized he didn’t care if he saw her that day or that week and she felt the same, it was time to split. They’d signed the papers and gave a parting hug with a smile. It had not been nasty or dragged out. There was no fighting over the pots and pans and TV. It had been a relief until a couple of months later when she changed her mind.
It wasn’t like she needed him for income. She had more money than him. After checking to confirm what she invested in was still doing well, that hadn’t changed any. Since he’d been moving, she kept their condo and he took his name off the lease. She kept the furniture, everything.<
br />
Eriksen moved to Happily with Jacob who already had a TV and pair of recliners. What else did a man need? Not much.
“She told me that she didn’t realize you moving here was so important. She said she’s willing to come here too if that’s what it takes.”
Oh fuck. He scrubbed over his face. “Please tell me you did not say she could live with me.”
“Of course not. You would probably ignore her.” She added more pepper to her food. “I told her she could stay with me.”
“Mom.”
She pointed at him with her fork. “You divorced, and you said it was a happy split. I don’t really know details of why, but for several years she was my daughter. I can’t just stop liking a delightful person because you decided to not be married anymore. It’s a complicated situation where I have no reason to not like her. Plus she saved your life. I am in her debt.”
He was tempted to go jump in the lake and drown if it meant never having to hear those words again. Who knew not dying would be such a pain in the ass. “If you let her stay in your house, that’s your business. I know you’re close to Tish, and that’s fine. I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s not getting us back together. Nothing is.”
“Never say never.” She perked up and happily ate.
He gripped his thigh in a vice hold to keep from fisting his hand over the top of the table. This was his mother. He loved his mother. He would be patient with her well-meaning intentions. He slowly breathed and repeated the reminder through his head once again. “I am saying never. When is she supposed to be here?”
“I don’t know for sure if she’s coming.”
Finally some good news. “Maybe she’ll realize it’s a waste of a trip, if she’s coming for me, and will stay where she’s at.”
“You should call her.”
“I’m not. And next time she calls you, why don’t you ask for Grandma’s ring back, because she has no need to keep it.” Every time he asked for it, Tish would assure him she’d put it in the mail the next week. She’d been tossing that line out since the day they signed the divorce papers and he asked for it. She’d conveniently taken the set off that morning and had left it at home in her safe.
There was no end to this conversation, and he didn’t want to get further into that discussion with his mom either. Because Mom was right about one thing. She had treated Tish like a daughter, and the pair had hit it off well. His mom loved too much to just be able to turn those feelings off. They had split on good terms, and he shouldn’t expect it of her either. He just needed to make it clear his feelings for Tish weren’t ever coming back, and she needed to quit looping him into their relationship further.
Tara walked to their table, saving him from more. She slapped his bill down. “Uncle E, yours was paid for.”
“By who?”
His not family-related niece but best friend’s daughter, Tara, shrugged and picked up the dishes. “Don’t know. There was a twenty on the bar and a piece of paper with a note for your meal on it.”
His mom leaned over the table with a troublemaking gleam in her eye. “Do you have a secret admirer?”
He glanced his mom’s way and ignored that. Five minutes ago she was singing Tish’s praises. He wanted to call her on it, but that would bring the subject of Tish back up and he took a pass. Really, the heart of the matter here was her desire for grandchildren to spoil, and he was her only source for them. He hated it for her bad luck. Maybe Violet and Jacob would have more kids and he could turn them to his mother for another grandma. “Let me see the note.”
Tara winced. “Already in the trash and covered by wet coffee grounds. That’s literally all it said though. For Eriksen’s meal.”
“Did you recognize the handwriting?”
“Nope.” Her youthful smile broadened, so much like her mother, but a hint of mischief of her father lit her eyes. So much that he couldn’t tell if she was messing with him or being honest. He wasn’t about to harass a twelve-year-old, not even his niece.
His mom shook her head. “That’s unfortunate. Guess that means you should do something nice for somebody else.” With a finger on the top of her ticket, she pushed it toward him. “Like pay for my lunch. I went to the craft store again without your father knowing.”
“Mom.” He shot her a warning glance.
“I didn’t get much. Honestly, I just got enough supplies to make a spring wreath. It’s in my trunk, and your dad doesn’t need to see it. You know how he gets. So be a dear, buy my lunch, and then he won’t ask why I didn’t use my cash for today.”
Dad was like any other sensible and reasonable person, and Mom had every closet and the attic stuffed with craft supplies. It would not shock him if she had a secret bunker in the yard stuffed with blocks of foam and yarn she would never use. “If you only got enough supplies for that, you wouldn’t be hiding it from Dad.”
“I was undecided on exactly what I wanted. I’ll have to play with it. And I got enough for two so I could put one at your house.”
Just what he always wanted, a girly thing on his front door. He didn’t argue though so long as she kept her glue gun and bottles of glitter to the exterior of his home. He lifted her ticket because he’d rather pay the nine-dollar bill than get into the discussion of her lack of self-control again. He never won that argument, neither had Dad, and Eriksen didn’t see the tides ever changing in their favor.
He looked the room over while he counted out enough for Tara and searched for who would have paid for his. Nobody stared back or otherwise looked guilty or tickled about something. He vaguely recalled the bell over the door ringing several times the past few minutes as people had left. It could have been anyone. He hadn’t paid attention to who had been in.
Tara picked up money for Mom’s and stuck it in her front apron pocket. “There was five dollars left over on your tab. I kept it for a tip.”
He chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
He slipped out of the booth, helped Mom up, and followed her outside. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over the parking lot. Best he could tell, nobody was sitting in their vehicles looking at him or anyone in their vehicles at all.
She paused by her car. “Thanks for lunch, sweetheart. That was thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She rubbed his arm. “Think about Tish.”
“I have. I’m making the right choice.”
There was another sigh. A softer one. “I just don’t like you alone. We’re not built for that in this family.”
He could somewhat agree with that. He had a gnawing craving to seek out Lanie and not be alone, but he didn’t know the full reasoning for why yet. Soon. “No, we are not. When I didn’t care if I saw or talked to Tish, that’s when I knew it was over.”
Her lips twisted in a way that said she didn’t like the direction of this conversation. But it was the softness in her eyes and the disappointing droop of her shoulders that slayed him. The otherwise silence was the most she’d probably give him.
He saw her off and headed to his truck with far more on his mind that he cared for. His mom, Tish’s possible appearance, his mystery lunch buyer, and most of all, the shape of Lanie’s full lips and how they’d feel against his.
He rounded the front fender of his truck, and a piece of paper was under the windshield. He flipped it around, and what the hell. He double-blinked at the picture. That whale tail again. He was sure of it. This one was smoother, drawn with a pen, but he’d bet anything it was the same image. He climbed in his truck and quickly flipped through his phone’s photos until he found the snapshot from the Dumpster. With the pen drawing, he could better make out the wide fins flicking at the corner, the ruffle of the waves, and the slim tail diving back in the water. This had to be the same image. Too much of a coincidence that it wasn’t. How many people went around drawing whales dropping back into the water?
Until this week, he would have said none.
He sat in his seat with this p
iece of the puzzle but still no idea how it all fit together. Lanie wasn’t anywhere at the diner. He wouldn’t have missed her coming in. The woman was attached to his attention somehow. In the previous months, the hair at his neck had lifted or his skin had tingled when she entered the room. There was an awareness his body recognized before he clocked her in the room. So no, she had not been the one to plant the note, but she was somehow tied to it all.
This tail, or whatever this was a drawing of, was linked to her, and he was ready to find out.
He’d looked for her the past three nights in a row at the lake with no luck. Giving it a rest wasn’t an option, and he would be out there every night until her pale face appeared in the dark waters again. Something Hank was taking note of, so for that, Eriksen swung by the butcher shop, grabbed a couple of steaks to cover his reasons, and then headed to Maiden Lake.
As a teenager, this drive had seemed like the longest twenty minutes of his life. Now, as an adult, Eriksen found he enjoyed the winding road and was disappointed he hadn’t driven out this way last fall. The trees would have been full of color and probably made for a great ride.
God, he was getting old and truly becoming an adult. Before his only concern about this drive was whether there was enough ice in the back, snacks to last all day, and condoms in his wallet. Now he was thinking about scenery. Lanie’s pale face and long blond hair filled his mind. And all right, condoms too, though the likelihood of that going anywhere seemed exceedingly slim. He was considering himself lucky if he managed a thirty-minute conversation.
He pulled in the drive in front of Hank’s cabin and lucked out to find the man’s truck missing. That just meant he had to slip by Belinda, and he doubted she’d look up from her phone long enough to make too much commentary.
