Making It Right

Gil coughed. “I’ll call Olivia and apologize. Meanwhile, Aud, mind if I get back to you on Snoozy’s gift?”

“Not at all, dear.” She headed for the door, then swiveled back to Seth. “Just out of curiosity, what did Ivy give you when you two got married?”

Seth shifted his weight as blood hauled ass into his cheeks. “A, uh, part for my truck. J-jumper cables,” he stuttered, and it was so obviously a lie, Gil hooted and Audrey’s expression graduated from curious to determined.

“It’s personal,” Seth growled.

Audrey nodded. “Uh-huh. Where is your wife now? Is she at home?”

Seth’s eyes went wide. “She won’t tell you.”

The old woman patted her purse. “Never underestimate the power of a summer sausage.”

Gil let loose a strangled laugh while Seth pulled out his phone and started texting.

“Discuss the subject of my wedding gift amongst yourselves, boys,” Audrey said. “And make sure you come up with something good, because this prime piece of meat is looking forward to a whole lot of tenderizing the weekend after next.”

Once the door shut behind her, Gil and Seth groaned in concert.

“If only we could unhear that.” Seth banged his palms against his ears. “Guess I should have listened when you said you weren’t into Olivia.”

“She’s not into me, either. She only agreed to the date as a favor to you.”

Red flashed back into Seth’s cheeks. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay out of it. But you owe me one. Hubbard Ridge this weekend?”

Gil and his mountain bike both needed the workout, but he couldn’t pull an economic miracle out of his ass if he was sitting on it.

“Sorry, man. I need to be here. Rain check?”

“You’re not getting enough exercise, Coop. Last time we rode, you puked. Twice. You’re not careful, you’re gonna lose that manly figure.”

Gil wanted to ask what the hell that mattered, since no one would be seeing him naked, but that sounded too pathetic, even for him.

When he didn’t respond, Seth shrugged. “But Joe’s tomorrow night, right?” He read the answer on Gil’s face and sagged back against the counter. “Are you serious right now? You’re blowing off poker night, too?”

“Duty calls.”

“C’mon, bro. We’re already one man down. Harris didn’t say what he’s got going on, but it must be serious if the old man’s willing to miss meatball night. Can’t your shit wait?”

The truth about Gil’s “shit” was that he couldn’t afford to play because he couldn’t afford to lose. And he always lost. But if he fessed up, Seth would insist on staking him.

“Do me a solid, Walker, and let it go.”

Seth pushed upright. “Maybe that’s what you need to be thinking about doing.”

“Don’t even.”

Seth waved an arm at the paint cans and power tools, croquet sets and fishing rods surrounding them. “You’re killing yourself here. And for what?”

“Like you weren’t putting in eighteen-hour days when you were running the feed store and working at Ivy’s farm at the same time.”

“That was love, jackass. What’s your excuse? We both know you’d rather be anywhere else than here.”

“We both know that’s you, not me.”

Seth jerked his head back. “I don’t have anything against the store. It’s what you’re letting the place do to you, for no reason.”

“No reason?” Gil grabbed a straw broom off the rack behind him. He gave the floor a vicious sweep, enjoying the rattle as roofing nails scattered. He shot Seth a warning glance. “We’re not going there.”

“Apparently we’re not going anywhere.” Seth stalked out of the store, and moments later Castle Creek’s sole real estate agent sauntered in.

Gil clutched the broom tighter, momentarily tempted to brush her right back out again. This was shaping up to be one hell of a day and he hadn’t even knocked over his second cup of coffee yet.

Valerie Flick tossed her jet-black, corkscrew ponytail over her shoulder and glanced out the front window at Seth, who was slamming into his ancient pickup truck.

“Looks like you two might need couple’s counseling,” she said drily. She turned away from the window and scanned the store. With a delighted “Ooh,” she click-clacked over to the display of paperwhite growing kits. “One of these would look great on my desk.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Know what else would look great on my desk? A contract with your signature on it. Changed your mind about selling yet?”

Gil concentrated on long, steady strokes of the broom. “Go away, Val.”

“I came to sweeten the deal.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up. “How?”

“I’m trying to show you,” she said, voice edged with impatience.

He raised his head. She was leaning back against the counter, the spread of her elbows pulling her suit jacket open to reveal the lacy, dark pink cups of a barely-there bra. Damn, he hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing a shirt under there. She’d kicked off one high heel and was running the ball of her foot up and down the smooth expanse of her other leg.

He couldn’t deny she was a hot-looking woman. Yet his dick didn’t so much as wiggle.

Gil stacked his hands on the end of the broom and averted his gaze. When he didn’t speak, Val rolled one shoulder. “Nothing to say?”

“Only that it’s ridiculous to pretend you’re attracted to someone for the sake of a sale.”

“It’s more about the commission,” she said, and gave the hem of her jacket a yank. “Anyway, give me a break. Cooper’s has been circling the drain for years. Let me have the building. You won’t recognize it when I’m done.”

“Therein lies the problem.”

She huffed hard enough to blow her bangs out of alignment. “At least let me tell you what I have planned for the space.”

“This is not a space. It’s a piece of history, and I wouldn’t sell it to you if you planned to turn it into a free clinic for kids.” He hesitated. “You’re not planning to turn it into a free clinic for kids, are you?”

She laughed, genuinely amused. “In Castle Creek? It would be empty half the time.” She tipped her head. “Kind of like your hardware store.”

Gil propped the broom against the nearest shelf, walked to the door and held it open. “Cooper’s is not for sale.”

Val advanced slowly, trailing a polished fingernail along the length of the counter. When she reached the cash register, she gave it a pat. “That’s not what Ferrell said.”

Gil released the door and strode back inside. “When did you talk to him?”

“Last week. He said he’d reason with you. Help you understand it’s time to negotiate.”

Gil’s laugh was ugly, even to his own ears. “I haven’t had a conversation with my brother in six years and I don’t intend to start now. I suggest you break the habit yourself. He’s gotten all he’s going to get out of this place. Unless you plan to select something from one of these shelves and lay down money for it, you have, too.”

He marched back to the door and shoved it open again. He had to raise his voice above the clatter of the yardsticks he knocked over in the process. “Cooper’s is here to stay. Unlike you, Val.”

She plucked an apple from the basket on the counter and joined him at the door. “You’d better start practicing your social skills, Gilbert. You won’t be able to finance this hideout of yours forever.”

She tossed the apple up in the air, caught it and sidled out the door.

Her laugh drifted back down the sidewalk, and for the first time in a long time, Gil let himself wonder what the hell he’d do if he didn’t have Cooper’s Hardware in his life.

* * *

KERRY SAT IN the corner booth by the restroom, hands wrapped around her second cup of coffee. She should eat, but swallowing coffee presented enough of a challenge, thanks to the regret clogging her throat.

It had been two days since she’d met Parker and her daughter, but the girl’s shocked comment to Kerry’s father lingered like the smell of fish reheated in a microwave.

“You never said anything about a daughter.”

As much as the words stung, they made sense. Harris Briggs didn’t have a daughter. Not really. Not one he deserved. Not someone like Parker Macfarland, who ran a successful business and a loving household and never took advantage of anyone.

And had the respect of others.

Kerry hunched deeper into the roomy, navy knit of her favorite sweater. You have to earn it first, chickie.

Unfortunately, that was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d applied for admin work at the courthouse, the grocery store, the animal hospital and Castle Creek’s sole real estate office, each time bracing herself for the inevitable questions about her background. She’d never gotten that far. No one was hiring.

Not even here at Cal’s Diner, and the fact that she’d checked testified to the strength of her desperation. She’d sworn after waitressing and tending bar in college for infinitesimal tips that often ended up in the bottom of half-full plastic tumblers that she’d never be a server again.

Famous last words.

She’d have to spread her net wider. Chances were good she could find something in Erie. That would be counterproductive, though. Kerry wanted to stay close. Show her father she was in earnest. Let his friends see she was making amends.

At least, that had been her intention. Now it seemed that if she stayed in town her father would avoid her like...well, like he’d been doing since she’d borrowed money from his girlfriend two years ago.

Prickles of heat swept across her chest. Correction. His ex-girlfriend.

A metallic crash in the kitchen brought her head up. The diner wasn’t busy, probably because it was a weekday morning, and for that she was grateful. Kerry had fielded a few curious glances, though no one but the server had approached her. Once she’d learned there were no openings, she’d ordered a coffee and claimed a table. Now no one paid her any attention at all.

She relaxed her shoulders and let her gaze skim the gray Formica L-shaped counter, the alternating mustard-and ketchup-colored stools, the desserts under glass and the old-fashioned, stainless-steel milkshake machine that any other day would have been too much to resist. Same for the friendly smell of sausage, bacon and pancakes. It all seemed so...cozy. Welcoming.

Homey.

Why had she never visited? For years her father had made Castle Creek his home and not once had Kerry driven up to see him. Could she blame him for not making the trip to see her?

“Kerry?”

She blinked. A middle-aged woman with blond hair and kind eyes hovered near the table, a white takeout bag in one hand and a designer clutch in the other.

“Kerry Endicott, right?” Her smile was tentative, but at least it was a smile.

Here we go. Kerry entwined her fingers in her lap and squeezed. “I really want to say no.”

The other woman chuckled, though the sound held more strain than humor. “You look too much like your father for that to work. Before he lost all his hair, anyway.” She stretched out a hand. “I’m Eugenia Blue.”

Her father’s ex. Kerry nodded. “I recognized your voice.”

Her blush deepened. The one and only time she’d spoken to Eugenia, she’d begged her over the phone for a loan. Kerry released Eugenia’s hand. “Do you have some time? I’d appreciate the chance to talk.” She caught the other woman’s flinch and rushed to add, “About paying you back.”

Eugenia averted her gaze. “I’d like to talk with you, too.”

Kerry exhaled. Progress. She might not look thrilled about it, but at least Eugenia hadn’t followed Harris’s example and refused to speak with her.

Eugenia bit her lower lip as she glanced around the diner, then down at Kerry’s table, bare of all but condiments and a coffee cup. “Are you waiting for an order?” When Kerry shook her head, Eugenia motioned toward the door. “Then why don’t you come back with me to my shop?” She gave the bag a gentle shake. “I just happen to have two of Cal’s famous cinnamon rolls in here. I had every intention of eating them both, so please say you’ll come save me from myself. Besides, you need more than coffee for breakfast.”

CHAPTER TWO

WONDERING WHAT EXACTLY she was letting herself in for, Kerry followed Eugenia out of the diner and down State Street. Flowering cherry trees shaded the sidewalks and shed pale pink petals that clung like glitter to wrought iron benches, lampposts, trash cans. Old-fashioned storefronts competed for attention with boldly painted doors, brightly striped awnings and outdoor lights hung in half moons.

“I can see why my father likes it here.” Kerry scooted out of the way of a man setting up a sidewalk sign advertising tiger butter fudge.

“‘Dark chocolate, white chocolate, peanuts and peanut butter,’” Eugenia read. She smacked her lips and tugged Kerry away from the sign. “Sounds amazing but trust me, after eating one of Cal’s cinnamon rolls, you won’t have room for even a whiff of fudge.”

Fifteen minutes later, they sat on either side of a café table in the back room of Eugenia’s chic but playful dress shop, walled in by unpacked boxes and racks of clothes. Eugenia had given Kerry a whirlwind tour—conservative silk blouses paired with bright sequined scarves, and a crocheted sheath dress on a model wearing purple high-tops. That had been an instant mood lifter, and Eugenia seemed gratified when Kerry said so. Between them rested a freshly brewed pot of Constant Comment and a china plate that seemed far too fragile for the pair of dinosaur-egg-sized cinnamon rolls Eugenia had lovingly arranged on it.

“How long have you been in town?” Eugenia forked a roll like it was a porterhouse steak, plopped it onto another plate and handed it to Kerry.

Kerry watched Eugenia do the same with the second roll and felt her eyes stretch wide. No way her slim-hipped hostess could polish off one of these things, let alone two.

“Kerry?”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She accepted a fork and a linen napkin, which she smoothed over the knees of her gray pants. “I’ve been here a couple of days now.”

“So you have seen your father.”

“Briefly.” Kerry took her time with the cup and saucer Eugenia handed her next. “He...wasn’t feeling it. Not that I can blame him.” China trembled against china. She tipped forward and set her tea on the table before looking up. “But this is about you. I don’t even know how to apologize for what I’ve done, let alone make it right.”

“That’s not necessary,” Eugenia began.

“Of course it is. Please don’t be any kinder than you already have been. I don’t deserve it. I borrowed money from you, a stranger, knowing full well I couldn’t pay it back. In fact, we both know borrow isn’t the right word.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater. “Besides. I’m the reason you and my father broke up.”

Eugenia bristled. “He told you that?”

“I took advantage of you, and that must have humiliated him. He has a lot of pride.” Unlike his daughter.

Eugenia made a sound of half frustration, half affection. “Too much pride. He’s also a stubborn ass.”

Kerry surprised them both with a smile. “Do you still love him?”

Eugenia snatched up her plate, forked up a generous bite of pastry and took her time chewing. Finally she pointed the fork at Kerry. “You know what? You’re right. You do owe me. But the debt is between you and me. Please don’t entertain any misguided notion about getting Harris and me back together. That won’t square us.”

“I understand.”

“Good. So. When you said Harris wasn’t ‘feeling’ your reunion...”

“He’s not ready to talk yet.”

“Yet?” Eugenia set down her fork. “Does that mean you’re going to stick around until he does? I admire your determination, but that could take a while. If you do manage to find a job, the cost of a motel room will gobble up your paycheck.”

“I’d hoped to stay with Dad.” The word already felt too intimate to use. “But that request was a bit premature. Anyway, my plan is to get a job and start paying down my debts. You and Dad are the top two people on my list.”

It all came down to money, didn’t it? Her abuse of it had landed her in this situation. Her lack of it meant she wouldn’t be getting out of said situation anytime soon.

She needed a job.

Eugenia seemed to read her mind. “What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Anything, really.” Kerry had enjoyed her position as a database administrator for a government contractor, but the felony conviction had meant the loss of her security clearance. Her probation officer had found her a data entry position at a telemarketing firm. She’d almost rather wait tables. Not that she could afford to be selective. “I haven’t had any luck yet, but there are several places I haven’t checked.”

Eugenia hesitated.

Despite the tea warming her cup, Kerry’s fingers felt stiff with cold. “Did you bring me here to tell me I should just head back to North Carolina?”

“Goodness, no.” The pitch of Eugenia’s voice made it clear her surprise was unfeigned. “I think it’s brave of you to be here, and the right thing to do. Your father will come around.”

“I don’t know if he will. I don’t know if he should. But I have to try.” Eugenia crossed and uncrossed her legs for the second time. Dread kicked up the chaos again in Kerry’s belly and she pushed away her untouched roll. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Eugenia opened her mouth, closed it, jerked forward. Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup onto her saucer. “There’s an apartment upstairs,” she blurted. “It’s been sitting vacant since I bought a house a few months ago. It’s yours if you want it. You can work for me, here at the shop.” She motioned with her chin at the cartons stacked to her right. “I have twenty boxes of summer inventory waiting to be unpacked, with more on the way.”

Slowly Kerry collapsed against the back of her chair. “That’s incredibly kind of you. Especially considering what I put you through. But Eugenia, if I do either of those things, my father will never speak to me again.”

“It’s not his business. This is between you and me.”

“He won’t see it that way.”

“At least think about it. The sooner you get settled, the sooner you can start paying him back. And you’d be doing me a favor, keeping an eye on the place. Plus, you’ll be saving me the trouble of looking for an employee.”

“Do you really need help?” In all the time they’d been sitting there, not once had the bell over the door announced a customer.

“Not full-time, no, but having you here would free me up to take care of things at my new house. Like cleaning. Unpacking. Figuring out a way to disinvite the raccoons living over my garage.”

A lightness expanded behind Kerry’s breastbone. A job and a place to stay, just like that. Seemed she’d gotten her first break since that peremptory knock on her front door, almost a year ago now.

The offer was as tempting as that second cinnamon roll seemed to be to Eugenia—lust gleamed in the dress shop owner’s eyes as she considered Kerry’s plate. And yet...

With shaking fingers, Kerry folded and refolded the napkin on her knee. She’d opted for the easy route far too many times. That kind of cowardice had earned her a divorce, a handful of victims she’d never be able to make things right with, six months of house arrest and a lifetime supply of shame and regret.

Besides, it had been obvious from the moment she’d approached Kerry at the diner that Eugenia had struggled with whether or not to extend this offer.

An offer that could so easily put Eugenia right back into victim mode.

If Kerry’s father found out, it would damage whatever chance he and Eugenia had of reconciling. And if Kerry stayed in Castle Creek and didn’t find a job, Eugenia would repeat the offer. Harris would find out one way or another. If Kerry landed another job, eventually the news about her conviction would spread, and her father would be humiliated all over again.

She placed her napkin on the table and straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Eugenia. You don’t know how much your generosity means to me. But I can’t take advantage of you again. That’s why I’m here, to stop the cycle.” She slapped her thighs. “I’ll try to talk to my father one more time. Then I’m going home.”

“You can’t quit now.”

“I’ll be in touch. I promise. As soon as I find a job, I’ll start making payments.” Maybe the telemarketing firm would take her back.

“Kerry. There’s something you should know.” Eugenia reached out, adjusted the teapot and flashed a trembling smile. “Your father has a heart condition. And it’s starting to get the better of him.”

* * *

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Kerry pulled in a breath and followed Eugenia into Snoozy’s Bar and Grill, the local hotspot, according to Eugenia. She must have meant it literally, because someone had set the thermostat to stifling. Kerry shrugged off her sweater and gazed longingly toward a tidy but well-used wooden bar.

Tossing one back wouldn’t make the best impression. And one drink wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to help her forget that two years earlier, her father had been diagnosed with something called viral cardiomyopathy and hadn’t cared enough to let her know.

Eugenia tugged her deeper into the bar. No surprise the place was deserted—according to the sign on the door, it didn’t open until eleven.

It wasn’t as dimly lit as she’d expected. Sunshine streamed through a wide front window bracketed by dusty brown shutters, revealing what looked like a fancy hutch beneath, chest high, made of wood and acrylic. Strategically placed rocks and leaf-heavy branches decorated the emerald-colored outdoor carpet that lined the bottom of the pen.

Like a terrarium.

For reptiles.

Big ones.

Kerry stumbled back a step, wondering if she was staring at the reason the owner hadn’t managed to find a fill-in bartender. What the hell was in there?

“There he is,” chirped Eugenia.

Kerry jumped, and craned her neck. “Where?”

“Here.” Eugenia clutched her elbow and swung her around. “Kerry, meet Snoozy. Snoozy, this is my friend Kerry.”

Kerry felt a squeeze in her chest. Eugenia had used the word friend so very casually.

“Nice to meet you, Kerry.” A lanky, mournful-looking man with a handlebar moustache and shadows under his eyes dried his palms on a towel and slung it over his shoulder. He thrust out a hand. “Didn’t catch your last name.”

She stuffed her left hand in the back pocket of her jeans to hide the tremble. Would he recognize the name?

Here we go.

But before she could say anything, Snoozy dropped her hand and yanked the towel from his shoulder. He bent toward the glass.

“Smudges,” he muttered, and made a few swipes with the towel. “I hate smudges.”

She released a shaky breath. How about ex-cons? Do you hate those, too?

Eugenia made an ahem noise.

Snoozy straightened. “You ladies hungry? I just put together a big pot of chili you’re welcome to try. New recipe,” he said, and winked.

That’s what she’d been smelling. Oregano and cumin. Her stomach rumbled.

Eugenia reached out and grabbed a handful of Kerry’s long-sleeved top, as if in warning. Surely she couldn’t mean...

Kerry shuddered and gestured awkwardly at the pen. “Please tell me you didn’t cook anything that lived in there.”

Snoozy’s mouth dropped open and he staggered back a step. “Mitzi? I’d never think of—” His eyes narrowed. “You been talking to Audrey?”

“His bride-to-be,” Eugenia explained to Kerry, and gave her arm a let-me-handle-this pat. To Snoozy, she said, “I understand you’re still looking for someone to fill in while you’re on your honeymoon. Kerry here is interested in the job.”

His face cleared. He stroked his moustache and regarded Kerry with fresh interest. “Got any experience?”

“I tended bar in college. It was a long time ago, but I still make a mean margarita.” Maybe he’d ask her to demonstrate. A jigger of tequila would come in handy right about now.