Head Over Heels (12 page)

Veronica replaced the receiver and stared out the front window, moodily watching a pop can blow down the center of a deserted Baker Street. Thank God it was Sunday. The bar was closed, a fact for which Veronica was exceedingly grateful, because she frankly didn't think she could face having to go to the Tonk tonight. Not when she was all torn to pieces over being such a—

“You are
not
a lousy parent!” Marissa said a short while later. “You just didn't give this aspect of it enough thought.”

The kids had gone upstairs to admire Lizzy's bedroom, Cooper thankfully had either gone out or was up in his own room, and the two women were ensconced on either end of the living room couch. Veronica hugged her knees to her chest and dug her chin into her kneecap as she gazed at her friend. “Enough thought? I didn't think, period! And I
am
an awful parent. I've never even bothered to sit down with Lizzy and talk to her about Crystal and Eddie.” She grasped a handful of her hair and yanked.

“Stop that. You're stretching your eyelid, and it's creeping me out.” Marissa leaned forward and pried Veronica's fingers loose. “Jeeze Louise, you're going to rip your hair out by the roots.”

“I
should
just rip it out by the roots. I knew she had to be hurting inside with all the awful stuff that's happened in her life, but I took her lack of weeping and wailing at face value and just buried my head in the sand. Out of sight, out of mind, that's my motto. God, Rissa, Lizzy's only six years old, and still she's ten times more mature than I am.”

“Not to mention a lot less melodramatic,” Marissa agreed dryly. She gave Veronica's foot a poke. “Get
over
yourself! So you put off a difficult conversation longer than you should have—give her a week or so to revel in the room, then sit her down for a heart-to-heart. That's the main rule of parenting, you know. When you screw up, you simply pick your moment, then do your best to rectify the problem. The only way you can completely mess up is if you stop trying.”

Veronica felt a spark of hope. “You're right—I know you are. But I still dread telling Lizzy that we'll be moving. She's not going to be happy about leaving Dessa and Riley, never mind the only town she's ever lived in.” She stared at her friend as she sorted through her thoughts. “Still, she's eminently reasonable for a six-year-old, and there are definite advantages to the move. At least in Seattle everyone and their brother won't know about her parents, so no one will give her a hard time at school. And she's such a sweetheart I know she'll make friends, but we could always come back here for the weekends until that happens, to make the transition easier. Maybe, too, if I tell her we'll fix her an equally nice room at my place, it will alleviate some of the trauma.”

“Exactly. And it's not as if you've sold anything yet, so you're not talking about an immediate change. As
far as her room goes, you can promise to duplicate this one exactly, if that's what it takes. There's no law, for instance, that says you can't take that wonderful chest of drawers with you.” Marissa smiled gently. “Nice stenciling job, by the way.”

Veronica stared at her soberly. “Oh, God, Rissa,
thank
you.” They both knew she wasn't talking about complimenting her stenciling abilities.

“You're entirely welcome. Now I'm in need of your expertise. The decorations committee meeting is tomorrow, and Kody said that while we could probably keep the outside ice sculptures frozen long enough for them to remain recognizable the length of the Winter Festival, it would be too costly to attempt it indoors.”

“Oh, my God—Kody!” Veronica's back straightened. “I entirely forgot about that—did you two have wild monkey sex after you left the bar last night?” She immediately flapped her hand. “What am I thinking—of course you did. Was he good? Are you seeing him again?”

“Yes;
God,
yes; and yes—although we didn't make concrete plans for the last one.”

“I don't suppose you'd consider a few details for that ‘God, yes' part, would you?” Veronica cocked an eyebrow, then grinned when Marissa remained closemouthed. “No? Okay, but you gotta know I'm jealous. Have the kids met him yet?”

“No. He left this morning before they got home. It was hard to let him go, but that was the only way it could be handled. Men who sleep over have hardly been a part of my landscape, and I frankly don't intend Kody to be the guy to break that tradition—at least not when my kids sleep at home.” The grin she shot
Veronica punched her dimples deep into her cheeks. “Which means you're probably going to be seeing a
lot
more of Dessa and Riley come the weekends.”

“You know they're always welcome.”

“Bless you, my child, I do know that. And if I'm going to start dating again, the kids will obviously have to meet him. But I have to put some thought into how I introduce him into their lives. Maybe a movie or a pizza out—something casual, at any rate, that they won't attach too much importance to if things don't pan out. Until then I appreciate it more than I can say that you're willing to help me have a love life.”

“Yeah, well, I'm happy one of us is getting lucky.” Veronica opened her mouth to share her own early-morning misadventure, but Marissa's bawdy laugh made her decide not to dilute her friend's pleasure. She'd tell her later.

“You're an excellent friend,” Marissa said. “Speaking of which, what am I going to do about the decorations if ice sculptures indoors are out of the question?”

“Well, you know, I've actually been thinking about that, and I think I've got an even better idea.”

“Oooh, I like the sound of that. Let's hear it.”

“Winter trees. The drama of stark branches and those little white fairy lights is very striking, and between the size of the trees and the shadows the lights cast, they hide a multitude of sins, which is always a consideration in old buildings like the ones on the fairgrounds. Now, I haven't had time to research the costs, and I'm not sure if you can buy artificial trees that aren't all leafed out—they weren't available back when I did this. But depending on the budget, your committee could easily make the trees themselves out
of wire and papier mâché, or they could probably hire it done at a fairly reasonable cost. Too bad we're a little pressed for time, or you could sponsor a contest for high school and college students, which would result in them doing most of the work for you.” She grinned, then shrugged. “I suppose you could always buy real trees at a nursery and then either donate them for a beautification project after the festival or raffle them off, or both. But that would probably get a little spendy, because you'd have to buy reasonably mature trees. Besides, the beauty of fake ones is that you can use them again and again, and change the look by the way you decorate them. You might even be able to defray the cost by renting them out to other organizations for their affairs—they can be that effective.” She discovered her friend staring at her, mouth agape, and felt her spirits take a dip. “You hate the idea.”

“Are you kidding? I
love
the idea. I'm just amazed, is all. How on earth do you come
up
with this stuff?”

“Hey, I was an auction coordinator for umpteen years before I started my business.” Since Marissa already knew that, Veronica shrugged it off as unimportant, but her friend's praise gave her a warm glow. “That often meant I had a low budget to work with, depending on which organization had hired me at the time, and you know what they say—necessity is the mother of invention. I used the tree idea years ago for a private school's building fund auction, which is why I can't give you an up-to-the minute cost analysis. But I can tell you from experience that it paid for itself in the long run, because the trees got so much attention that the school ended up renting them out to other organizations. Look, let's grab a tablet and make as com
plete a proposal as we can with what information we have available. We'll include a couple of oversized ice sculptures for outside the exhibition hall doors, because they really are very effective. That should at least give us a starting place for your committee.”

“Oh, God, I love this.” Marissa jumped up and headed for the kitchen, pausing only long enough to flash Veronica a huge smile. “Thanks, chickie. I'll give you credit at the meeting tomorrow, I promise.”

“Are you crazy? That would completely negate the whole point here, which is showing who's-their-faces that you don't have to be born on Holly Drive to do the job.”

“You weren't born there, either, so the point would still be made.”

“Yeah, but I'm not the one they've been putting down. You deserve to rub their noses in it a little.”

Marissa grinned. “I hate to admit it, but I wouldn't mind doing that at all. I'll take full credit, then—and bless your heart. But I'll also do the best damn job that's ever been done, now that you've given me something to work with. And I think it's only fitting that I begin by assigning Tyler-Jones and Wentworth the task of hunting down the various costs, don't you?”

“Oh, yes.” Veronica nodded decisively. “Absolutely.”

V
ERONICA WOUND HER WAY BETWEEN THE
T
ONK
'
S
tightly packed tables Friday night, dispensing drinks and dodging the hands of a particularly rambunctious young man celebrating his twenty-first birthday with a group of friends. Glimpsing Marissa sitting with Kody toward the back of her section, she headed straight over. She could use a little oasis of sanity tonight.

She saw the moment Marissa spotted her, for her friend's dimples dented her cheeks beneath the verve of her welcoming smile. Marissa's lips formed words, but Veronica shook her head and shrugged helplessly. Attempting to make out normal conversational tones over the din in here tonight was like trying to communicate without raising one's voice across the tin-can telephones they used to fashion with a length of string
stretched between their bedrooms back when they were kids—it simply wasn't possible. Reaching the table, she balanced her tray on her right hip and leaned down. “Am I glad to see you! But I'm afraid I didn't catch a word you said.”

Marissa raised her voice. “It wasn't anything earth-shattering. I was merely stating the obvious—helluva crowd here tonight.”

“No fooling! It's been a madhouse since I came on duty—I think this past week must have given everyone a severe case of cabin fever.”

A cold snap had blown down from the mountains and turned Fossil's on-again-off-again rain squalls into a genuine winter storm. First it had snowed several inches. Then freezing rain had blown in on a fierce wind, and by the time the weather system had blown itself out, trees had been left sheeted in ice and the streets had turned to rinks. When it started to snow again, it had actually been a relief. At least with a layer of snow cushioning the ice, walking and driving weren't quite as hazardous.

Today offered the first sign of improvement. Shortly after noon the sun had finally come out again, and while temperatures still hovered around the freezing mark, the threat of additional snow or freezing rain seemed to have passed.

“Hasn't it been
nuts
?” Marissa yelled. “I was getting pretty squirrelly myself by the time things finally settled down. I was too chicken to drive down the bluff roads, but I'm telling you, I was just about ready to brave it, ice or no ice. Dessa hasn't given me a moment's peace since it started snowing Monday night,
worrying that tonight's sleepover at the VFW hall would be canceled.”

Veronica nodded. “I know what you mean. Lizzy was anxious, too, and it didn't help to tell her that tonight's shindig was sure to be rescheduled if the weather caused it to be canceled. It's a good thing it cleared up when it did or we'd have some unhappy kids on our hands.” She smacked the tabletop with the flat of her hand. “Hey! That reminds me: How did the Winter Festival meeting go?”

Marissa's smile was dazzling. “Oh, Ronnie, it was great! They thought I was a genius! And my absolute favorite part was watching Tyler-Jones and Wentworth struggle to say something gracious, when they were clearly prepared to patronize the poor, clueless upstart.”

Veronica laughed. “Chalk one up for the girls from the flats.”

“Exactly. It was
so
sweet.”

A man two tables over signaled impatiently and Veronica straightened. “The natives are getting restless—I'd better get back to work. What can I get you two?”

For the next hour and a half she was run ragged trying to keep up with all her orders, and the grabby birthday boy didn't help. She used an old trick and started taking his order from the far side of the table.

Around eleven-thirty, things finally began to settle down as the crowd thinned out, and Veronica's ringing ears were grateful when the decibel level dropped to normal.

Being able to communicate without shouting didn't
do much to address her aching feet, however, and, ignoring a gesture from the birthday boy that may or may not have been a summons for another drink, she took advantage of the momentary lull to join Marissa and Kody at their table.

She collapsed onto a chair and toed off her shoes. Resting her left ankle on her right knee, she rubbed her foot and groaned. “Oh, that feels good. Thank God someone finally responded to our ad, because I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Marissa studied her with interest. “You've hired someone, then?”

“Not yet, but a woman's coming in for an interview tomorrow, and unless she's a serial killer, she's got herself a job as far as I'm concerned.” She smiled wryly. “Maybe even then. I'm feeling that desperate.”

Involuntarily, she found herself searching for Coop. The moment she spotted him, though, she knew she was courting trouble. For even knowing full well she should look away, she ate up the sight of him. It wasn't until he suddenly glanced up from the drink he was mixing and looked straight at her that she wrenched her attention back to Marissa and Kody.

Desperate was the word, and it wasn't simply because she didn't like working at the Tonk or because she needed to start paying attention to her own business if she wanted a business to return to once she'd settled her family affairs. It wasn't even because she was burning her candle at both ends and sooner or later something had to give. The real problem was the attraction between her and Cooper. It just kept growing stronger and stronger, while her will to fight it
grew weaker and weaker. She had to put some distance between them.

Before she ended up doing something downright foolish.

“Um, about the job candidate,” she said, sternly focusing her attention back on her self-derailed conversation. “Would you pick Lizzy up from the VFW hall tomorrow when you collect Riley and Dess, and keep her for me until I finish interviewing the woman?”

“Sure,” Marissa said. “Maybe, if the roads aren't too big a mess, I'll take the kids down to King's Theater to see the new Disney.” She turned to Kody, stroking a proprietary hand down his arm. “You up for a cartoon with three kids? Only two of them are hyper.” She smiled crookedly. “Of course, those would be mine.”

For just a second Veronica thought she glimpsed discomfort in Kody's expression, but then he grinned.

“Appealing as an invitation to sit in a theater full of screaming kids sounds,” he said easily, “I told my dad I'd come over and give him a hand shoring up the basement stairs.”

“Well, okay,” Marissa said. “But I'm telling you, you don't know what you're missing.”

Their gazes met then and held, and Veronica could practically see the electricity that sizzled between them. She would've fanned herself if both her hands weren't already occupied massaging her aching feet, and she tried not to be jealous when they abruptly pushed back from the table and rose to their feet.

Marissa's voice was throatier than usual when she looked down and said, “Um, Ronnie, we've gotta—”

“Say goodnight,” Kody finished for her when her
sentence trailed into a vague little hum. He grabbed her hand and gave Veronica a sheepish smile. “So, uh, goodnight, then.” He hustled Marissa out the door.

“Hey, don't mind me,” Veronica murmured. She dropped her foot to the floor and felt around for her shoe. “I've got to get back to work, anyway.”

She made a quick detour to the ladies' room to wash her hands and apply a dash of lipstick, then headed back to the floor. A woman was just taking a seat in Sandy's section and Veronica promptly changed directions to give her a wide berth. The last person she wanted to hook up with tonight was Darlene Starkey.

Darlene was an average-looking woman of around fifty, with the lean musculature and worn hands of a farmworker, and the immaculate beige pageboy of a society doyenne. She lived halfway up the Bluff, which was considered a part of the pricey neighborhood but not of its upper echelon. Though she was originally from somewhere other than Fossil, it was popularly believed that she'd grown up in an area like their own flats and had married up when she'd hooked up with David Starkey. Nobody knew for sure, though, because Darlene wasn't talking.

Which was pretty ironic when you stopped to think about it, considering she was the biggest gossip in Fossil. Darlene was well-known for her unapologetic nosiness and acerbic tongue, and Ronnie thanked heaven for small favors that the woman was in Sandy's section tonight rather than her own. Things were hectic enough around here already without having to deal with carrion wanting to pick over her sister's bones.

Perhaps because her attention was divided, Veronica failed to maintain the guard she'd kept up most of
the evening around the birthday boy. As she bent to clear a table, she entirely forgot that he was at the table behind her—until a hand reached between her legs and grabbed her where no man had the right to get grabby without her express invitation.

Veronica yelped in shock and straightened. She saw Coop drop the glass he'd been building a drink in and vault the bar, sending two patrons scrambling to get out of his way. His expression said someone was going to bleed, and like a paused film suddenly set back in motion, she jerked out of her paralysis. Without conscious thought, she swung the empty beer mug that she'd been clearing behind her, chopping it sideways as hard as she could. A yip of pain ripped the air and the hand cupping her crotch dropped away.

She whipped around, but before she could go for the birthday boy's throat, a man in a beautifully cut suit who'd been seated two tables over stepped between them. He leaned down in the young man's face. “Do you have any idea what kind of legal trouble you've just bought yourself, junior?”

The drunken celebrant hugged his arm to his chest. “I think she broke my elbow,” he moaned.

Coop skidded to a halt next to Veronica. His dark brows were gathered ominously, but the murder in his eyes gentled as he grasped her by the shoulders and peered down into her face. “Are you okay?”

No. Did you see where he touched me? God, I feel so dirty
. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” He set her aside. “Because I'm going to kill him.”

“Oh, no, you don't.” She stepped into his path, her breasts flattening against his diaphragm when he
didn't stop fast enough to avoid her block. “That privilege is mine.”

Coop had to smile at that, albeit a bit grimly. Veronica Davis was nobody's victim. But something shadowy and violated lurked beneath the fury in her eyes, and the urge to shelter her was a living thing in his chest. Instead of wrapping her up in his arms as he was tempted to do, however, he followed her lead and turned his attention to the birthday boy.

The depth of his rage unnerved him. He'd learned years ago that powerful feelings tended to get in the way, and he'd taught himself to relegate negative ones to a locked-down area of his mind until he could safely deal with them. At the moment, however, he'd gladly tear the little deviant apart limb by limb—starting with the hand that had dared touch her that way.

Luckily, Eddie's lawyer stood squarely between him and the impulse. Wrestling his temper into submission, Coop heard Neil Peavy say pleasantly, “I hope you got a lot of enjoyment out of turning twenty-one tonight, son, because this might be the last party you attend for quite some time.”

“Wha'chu babblin' about?” Even looking as if he realized he'd gone too far, the kid apparently felt the need to posture for his friends.

“I'm babbling,” the lawyer said in an avuncular tone, “about your eligibility to be tried as an adult for sexual assault.”

The young man quit fussing with his elbow and sat up straight. “Hey, man, I was just having a little fun!”

“Is that a fact?” Neil turned to Veronica. “Did you have fun as well, Ms. Davis?”

“No,” Veronica replied in no uncertain terms. “It was bad enough when he grabbed my rear a couple of times earlier. But for him to touch me…where he did…as if he had any right—” A shudder wracked her frame.

Neil turned back to the young man, who didn't look nearly as cocky as he had a moment ago. “You hear that, boy? She didn't have fun.” He shook his head. “That's not good for you. Because the legal system has no sense of humor, and if a woman isn't laughing, then they aren't likely to, either. There's a whole raft of charges that can be brought against a guy who touches a woman without her consent. A couple of those charges could get you a good, long term in Monroe penitentiary, should you be found guilty. And trust me, junior, given the public nature of your display and your lack of contrition, you've just seen to it that you'll be found guilty as hell if Ms. Davis here decides to press charges.”

Coop had a feeling Peavy might be exaggerating the consequences a bit, but it worked like a charm. The birthday boy suddenly seemed cold-stone sober. Face bleached of color, he turned to Ronnie and said, “Ah, jeez, lady, please. I shouldn't have touched you like that, and if you'll just not press charges I will never do anything like it again.” He scrubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “Honest. I
am
sorry.”

Veronica gave him a long, slow perusal. Then she turned to Neil. “If I don't press charges and it turns out he's a big liar—”

“No, ma'am, I ain't! I'll never touch another woman without her permission as long as I live!”

“If he turns out to be a big, fat liar,” she reiterated, giving the young man a hard look, “and he does something like this to another woman…”

“Then you can still press charges. Or if the statute of limitations has expired, you can come forward as a witness for his next victim.”

“There ain't gonna
be
a next victim,” the young man said earnestly, and swiped a film of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I'm not even the kinda guy who
has
victims. Swear to God.”

Veronica turned to him. “Excuse me,” she said coldly. “But you sure as hell were that kind of guy two minutes ago.”