Head Over Heels (3 page)

They settled on the great room's overstuffed couch, their knees tucked up and bodies angled to face each other. “None of this has driven her further into her shell, though, which is pretty darn remarkable, considering her shyness.” Marissa smoothed the tail of her fat, sandy brown braid through first one fist, then the other. “My kids tell me some of her classmates have given her a hard time at school, but luckily she's got a decent network of friends. God knows Dessa's a fierce little supporter. And Riley came home with a bloody nose the other day for defending her from one of his fellow third-graders.”

“You've got great kids, Marissa.”

Dimples punched deep in her friend's cheeks. “Yeah, who knew? Just when I think military school sounds like a good plan for the two of them, they turn around and do something that makes me so proud I could bust.” She shrugged. “I suspect it's a conspiracy to see how fast they can drive me to gibbering insanity, but what's a woman to do?”

Veronica snorted. “Like you'd change a thing about either of them, even if you could. You've done a great job of raising them. It had to be tough with Denny's death.”

“Yeah, it's been tough at times, but it's been five years and life goes on—especially when you have kids.” Marissa shrugged. “You just do what you have to do.”

“Well, what you've done is stellar. And to take on my problems, too…” She reached out and touched Marissa's shoulder. “I owe you so much. For taking care of Lizzy and for keeping the Tonk going.”

“Oh, pooh.” Then Marissa fanned herself with her hand. “Speaking of the Tonk, though, isn't that Cooper a
honey
? And he's such a sweetheart!”

“A sweetheart?” That wasn't exactly the first description to pop into Veronica's mind.

“Yes, indeed. He's so charming and easy to work with, and he doesn't drink up all the profits like the first guy I hired.”

Charming? With everyone except her, maybe. And please, easy to work with? “You think he's a
sweetheart
?”

Marissa laughed. “Okay, I'll admit he doesn't look like your basic sweetie pie—”

“I'll say. He reminds me of one of those vampires
that're so popular on television these days. And not the new-age sensitive ones who're always trying to reform their wicked ways, either. He's more like the badass archvillain one that pillages his way through the populace.”

“Nah, too tan,” Marissa disagreed. “I wouldn't mind being pillaged by him, though.” Then she laughed and leaned forward to give Veronica a quick hug. “Oh, V, it's so good to have you back. You always did have a unique way of looking at things.”

“I'm not sure how I feel about
being
back,” Veronica admitted, “but it's sure good to see you. And I'm in desperate need of your knowledge of the citizens of Fossil.” She scrubbed her hands up and down her khaki-clad thighs. “The Tonk's shorthanded and I've been informed I have to lend a hand there until we can get the waitress shortage straightened out.”

“Hoo, boy.” Marissa gave her a commiserating smile. “I can only imagine how you must have loved hearing that.”

“Oh, yeah.” She made a face. “From the time we were big enough to wield a mop, Crystal and I must have given up half our Sundays to clean that place.” Her antipathy for the Tonk was all tied up with memories of her father—his charm, his lack of ambition, and his innate chauvinism were all inextricably woven in her mind with the family bar. “Of course, I don't have to tell
you
that. God knows I vented to you often enough about Daddy's idea of a woman's mission in life, and Mama's reinforcement of it when she refused to make him lift a finger.” She shrugged apologetically for dragging the subject up yet again. “I'll work the Tonk because I have no other choice if I want the place
to sell. For Lizzy's sake I'd like to get every penny out of it that I can, so she'll have the freedom to choose what she wants to do with her life. But the instant I find a replacement waitress, I'm outta there.”

“Um, I sure don't want to discourage you, sweetie, but the economy's been excellent around here the past couple of years. And that means it's harder to fill the lower-paying jobs, so it might take a while.”

“Swell.” Veronica's stomach dropped, but she squared her shoulders and shoved the disheartening news aside. “Is that why I came home to find Cooper Blackstock living in Crystal's house?”

“Yeah. The vacancy rate for rentals is almost nil, so I figured why not stick him in that empty house, where he'll be nice and handy to the Tonk.”

Because he disturbs me
. An image of the way he'd looked this morning popped into Veronica's mind: all smooth-shaven hard jaw, blond hair standing on end, and those dark brows pulled together in a scowl. He'd taken up more than his fair share of the kitchen table as he'd sat across from her, his shoulders blocking her view.

Then she shook the image aside. She'd deal with Blackstock later; right now she had real problems. “God, Mare, I feel like I'm in the middle of a
Twilight Zone
episode. There's a part of me that always worried Crystal would come to a bad end, but it was nebulous stuff, you know? Like her driving drunk and crashing the car, or one of the men she played her eternal games with suddenly flipping out and hitting her. Blackening an eye, maybe, or splitting her lip.”

She looked at her friend in baffled horror. “I sure never envisioned anything like
this
. How could Eddie
have done it? I always thought he was the nicest, most forbearing guy, because, face it, we both know what Crystal could be like. But this! I mean, I knew they were in the middle of a custody battle for Lizzy, but I never thought…I never
dreamed
…” Shoving her hair off her forehead, she swallowed hard. “Gawd, I actually encouraged her to let him raise Lizzy, because I thought he was the better parent.”

“He
was
the better parent. I guess he just snapped.”

“They're positive he's the one who did it, though?” Veronica shook her head impatiently. “Well, of course they are—it had to be him, didn't it? Otherwise he never would have run and left Lizzy to deal with everything all on her own.” A bitter taste coated the back of her tongue.

“Eddie and Crystal had a pretty public fight at the Tonk that night, too,” Marissa said gently. “He made some threats. And the police found his leather jacket in a dumpster in the same lot where they found her body. She had trace evidence from it under her fingernails.” Then, her face stricken, she reached over and squeezed Veronica's hand. “I'm sorry, V. That was insensitive. Let's talk about something else, what do you say?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, wanting desperately to erase the images that had sprung to mind. “Help me figure out someone really good to stay with Lizzy when I have to work.”

B
Y THE TIME
M
ARISSA
'
S KIDS AND
L
IZZY BURST
through the kitchen door a few hours later, Veronica had made some decisions concerning her six-year-old niece's welfare. She studied Lizzy for changes as the little girl entered on the tail of lanky, eight-year-old Riley, who was wrangling loudly with his sister Dessa, whose static-charged blond curls seemed to take on the energy of her personality as she argued with pedal-to-the-metal ferocity. Lizzy's golden brown hair was neatly combed as always, her retro pea jacket and jeans spic-and-span, her tennis shoes firmly tied. Her genes were an interesting combination of both parents, and she had Crystal's smaller stature and delicate bone structure. Veronica thought she looked thinner as she trailed quietly in the rambunctious Travitses'
wake, her expression solemn. But the moment her gaze settled on Veronica, her entire face lit up.

“Aunt Ronnie?” She stopped dead by the kitchen counter, her backpack dangling from one shoulder where she'd started to take it off. “You're here!”

Riley and Dessa quit arguing and turned to stare at Veronica, who had risen to her feet at their entrance. Backpack thumping to the floor, Lizzy launched herself across the room but stumbled to a halt just inches away from hurling herself into Veronica's arms. Her chin dipped to her chest and her narrow shoulders hunched up around her ears as she stole a hesitant peek at her aunt through the silky curtain of her bangs.

Her uncertainty tore at Veronica's heart. “C'mere, you!” She hauled the child into her arms and held her tightly to her breast. “I've missed you! Do you know how long it's been since we were last together? It's been exactly two months, three weeks, and—”

“Six long
days
,” Lizzy said in unison with Veronica, tilting her head back to look up at her aunt as she completed the litany of their time spent apart. She relaxed into Veronica's embrace. “I counted it up on my calendar last night.”

Crystal had been in the habit of driving her daughter over the Cascades and dropping her off at Veronica's whenever she had hot plans for the weekend. And since she'd often had hot plans, and an even hotter determination to keep Eddie from having custody of Lizzy one minute longer than their original agreement stipulated, Veronica and Lizzy had grown particularly close this past year. They'd developed the ritual of counting off the days and weeks since their last time
together, then regaling each other with the knowledge as soon as they met up again.

“I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner.” Veronica brushed Lizzy's soft hair away from her face. “But I'm here now, and we're family, you and I, so never doubt that I'll take care of you. We'll start by moving you back into your own room this afternoon.”

She looked up in time to see Dessa's stricken face and gave the little girl a reassuring smile. “Would you like to come along and help us?” she asked. “Because you do understand, I hope, that you're welcome to visit Lizzy anytime you want. And on the weekends, if your mama agrees, you girls can plan sleepovers.” Then she shot a glance at Riley, who was busy making sure everyone knew he was too cool to show an interest in the proceedings. “You're always welcome, too, Riley.”

He rolled his eyes, stuffed another cookie from the cookie jar into his mouth, and grunted. Swallowing audibly, he grabbed a plastic jug of milk out of the fridge. “Like I wanna play with a coupla dumb girls.” He drank straight from the container, then lowered it and said, “Brad Marshall lives over by you, though. I s'pose I might could do stuff with him while the girls play with their
dollies
.”

Marissa got up and plucked the milk bottle from her son's fingers. “Get a glass,” she said, then shook her head.
“Might could
. If this is an example of our school system at work, I may have to rethink the way I cast my vote come levy time.”

Riley gave his mother a big, unrepentant grin, and looked so amazingly like a male version of Marissa when she was the same age that Veronica had to bite
the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Her lips must have twitched, though, because Marissa gave her a stern look.

“Don't encourage him.”

“I'm not. I wouldn't.” She straightened her face and looked down at Lizzy, still in the circle of her arms. “Do you need any help packing your stuff?”

“Nuh-uh. I did it last night. It's all upstairs; should I go get it now? Don't go away—it won't take me any time at all.”

Veronica hated the sudden anxiety in her niece's voice, but she merely smiled and assured her she wasn't going anywhere. Lizzy pulled out of her embrace and turned to her friend. She seemed on surer ground when she said, “You can come help me bring it down, Dessa.”

All three kids tramped out of the kitchen and Veronica turned to Marissa. “Oh, man, it's just starting to sink in that my status has been upgraded from aunt to
mom
. It's such a huge responsibility, and Lizzy seems so fragile. What if I screw it up? Oh, God, Rissa—what if I mess
her
up?”

“Take a deep breath,” Marissa instructed and rubbed comforting circles between Veronica's shoulder blades. “Now blow it out and listen to me. You're not going to screw anything up.”

“How do you
know
that?”

“Because you're good with Lizzy. Because you're crazy about her, and you'll do your best by her.”

“I've never been totally responsible for her for more than a week at a time; what if my best's not good enough?”

“It'll be more than enough. Look at what you've al
ready accomplished this afternoon—you managed to settle her insecurities with a hug and that how-long's-it-been thing you two share. And you've arranged for reliable help to take care of her while you're at work. And that, toots, is pretty much the way it goes—you simply take things one day at a time.”

So that's what Veronica determined to do for the rest of the day. She'd live in the moment and resolve each matter or problem as it arose. But she was glad that Coop was nowhere to be seen when they arrived back home.

“Man, lookit all this stuff!” Riley said as they passed through the living room. His mouth hung open as he attempted to take in everything at once. “My mom doesn't have
near
as much cool stuff in our house.”

Lizzy winced slightly, but didn't say anything. Leaving Riley to explore the downstairs and back yard, Veronica followed the girls upstairs and watched while Dessa emptied Lizzy's suitcase and her niece arranged photographs on her dresser. There were several shots of golden-haired, golden-skinned Eddie, one of Crystal, and even a framed snapshot of Veronica and Lizzy that had been taken at the Woodlawn Park Zoo during one of Lizzy's visits last fall.

She watched her niece delve into the cardboard box and pull out a photo album that she put on the bottom shelf of her nightstand, then a raggedy stuffed pony that she placed carefully on her pillow. Looking around the room, Veronica felt a spark of rancor toward her sister.

It was nice enough, as far as cleanliness and neatness went. But it could have belonged to anyone. There were no special touches that indicated this was a
little girl's room, aside from the ones that Lizzy herself had provided. The walls were painted white, the bed sported a plain white chenille spread, and utilitarian blinds covered the window.

Veronica suspected that Crystal had dropped a bundle on that tasteless display that passed for decor down in the living room, and her bedroom similarly bristled with a glittery plethora of objets d'art. Would it have killed her to spare a few bucks to make her daughter's room the tiniest bit special? It ate away at a place deep inside Veronica to admit that her sister probably hadn't possessed much in the way of maternal instincts.

So look on the bright side,
she thought with a guilty little lift of her spirits.
You probably can't do a worse job of mothering
.

 

“It's not surprising Eddie finally flipped out,” Coop heard someone down the bar say. “Crystal boasted that she was playing him.”

From the corner of his eye he saw it was Sandy the waitress who had spoken, and grabbing a cloth, he started wiping down the bar, working closer to where she stood chatting with a woman he'd recently served a gin and tonic.

“Playing him how?” the woman asked skeptically. “Crystal never struck me as the mastermind type.”

Sandy laughed. “Funny you should say that, because I think my exact response was, ‘Yeah, right—you and who else?'”

“What'd she have to say to that?”

“Nothing, really. She just smiled that smart-ass
smile of hers. So I asked her flat out what she meant, and she said—” Sandy's confidential tone of voice suddenly turned brisk. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Huh?” Gin-and-Tonic looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, then sat a little straighter when the waitress tipped her head infinitesimally toward Coop, who was clearly within listening range. “Oh! No, thanks. I'm set.”

“Well, I'd better get back to work, then.” Sandy hustled off to check the two men playing pool in the corner.

The rational part of Coop understood she was still taking his measure as her temporary boss and didn't want to be caught gossiping, but it took a real act of will not to growl with frustration. This sounded like his first genuine lead. He kept hoping the subject would come up again so he could insert himself into the conversation this time, and kicked himself for not doing so when he'd had the chance. Hell, it would have been perfectly natural to be interested. Crystal's murder was probably the hottest topic in town.

His mood wasn't improved by the fact that it was well past nine o'clock when Veronica finally strolled through the Tonk's front door. He flipped the towel he'd been using to dry glasses over his shoulder and watched as she approached. It was about damn time she'd shown up.

It had been fairly quiet tonight, the way it was most every Wednesday night, and it hadn't actually caused anyone undue stress to handle things without her. But that wasn't the point. He'd told her to be here at eight o'clock, and by God, she should've been here. He'd
spent thirteen years as a Marine and wasn't accustomed to having his commands blown off. Especially by some slip of a woman with bones so fragile he could snap her in two without breaking a sweat.

“Good evening, Cooper,” she said as she sauntered behind the bar for her apron and tray.

Coop swiveled to watch her tie the white cloth around her hips. She trailed an elusive scent in her wake, and he wasn't sure if it came from her sleek, swingy hair or was embedded in the plush, long-sleeved top she wore over a pair of slim black trousers. Or maybe from that soft white triangle at the base of her throat, where a faint blue vein pulsed.

“You're late,” he growled, shaking off the unwelcome image of going over her inch by inch in search of the source. “When I tell you to be here by eight, I
mean
eight o'clock sharp.”

She froze with her hands still behind her back, her small breasts thrust against the clingy velvet of her wine-colored shirt. For a few heartbeats, Collin Raye could be heard marveling from the jukebox how quickly a person could go from someone you loved to someone you used to know. Then Veronica's hands came around to curl at her sides as she bridged the distance that separated them. She thrust her chin up at him.

“Let's get something straight,” she said as she stopped mere inches away and tilted her head back to level a cool gaze at him. “You're not my daddy—you don't
get
to tell me when to be here. If you have suggestions for improving the service around here, or you want to sit down like rational adults to hammer out a
schedule, then I'm more than ready to listen. But you don't order me around, you don't lay down the law, and you sure as hell don't talk to me like I'm some errant lackey who failed to fall in with the party line. You seem to forget that I'm the owner here, not you.”

Shit. He
had
sort of forgotten about that. And because she'd managed to piss him off with her little reminder, he'd give a bundle to look her straight in those haughty green eyes and say,
Fine—I quit
.

He savored the fantasy for a few seconds and was warmed by the thought of leaving her to struggle with everything: the waitress shortage, tending bar, the cleanup, staying abreast of the invoices and the supplies to be ordered. It would be interesting to see how uppity she remained then.

But since it would also pretty much defeat his purpose for taking this job in the first place, he let it go. He took a step forward instead, his humor immediately restored when she took a reflexive step backward and bumped up against the lit glass shelves that held an array of liquor bottles. She reached back with both hands to grip the one at hip level, and he felt a feral smile stretch the corners of his mouth. Good. She wasn't as impervious as she'd like to appear.

Leaning over, Coop slapped his much larger hands down on either side of hers, the knuckles of his thumbs brushing her pinkies. “I've got a flash for you, Princess,” he murmured. Breathing in the scent of her shampoo, he determined it wasn't the elusive fragrance he'd caught a whiff of earlier, and eyed that soft-skinned hollow at the base of her throat consideringly. Then he snapped his wandering mind back to the business at hand. “You'll be the owner of zip if you
don't bother to come in on time to lend a hand. Sandy and I had to cover for you when you didn't show.”

“And I'm sure you both did a stellar job.”

“Damn right we did. But you're missing the point here, Ronnie.”

Her chin did the impossible and angled another degree higher. “I didn't give you permission to call me that.
You
may call me Veronica.”