Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) (20 page)

He knew the bothersome notes had nothing at all to do with him. But the truth was that he and his idiot brother had caused her additional anguish—grief he had come to decide was unnecessary and unfair.

Who were he and Sal to impose their beliefs on the town? Whether Ronan’s Harbor had party-happy inns riddled all over the landscape was none of their business. He should have stayed out of it. He kicked a pebble, sent it clacking over a storm drain. He should have done lots of things.

A ringing sound jarred his thoughts and he finally looked up at Sarah. She reached into her purse, withdrew her phone, flipped it open, and said “Hello” into the device.

She was silent for a long moment. Benny watched her eyes dart back and forth, not focusing on anything. She pulled her lips in on themselves then let them spring free. The sight dually stirred him—concern comingled with a spark of arousal. He blew out a breath to push it away.

“I’ll be right there,” she said. “Do you hear me? Stay put. I’m coming now.” She closed the phone and looked up at him. Her amber-toned eyes were painted with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Gigi,” she said to him. Her hand clutched at her chest. “I have to go get her in Margate.” She fisted the fabric of her jacket into a bunch. “I need to go home and get my car.”

Her eyes were big and round. For the first time he noticed the amber irises were peppered with golden flecks to match those damned freckles on her nose.

“She’s scaring me,” Sarah added, almost to herself. Her words trembled. “Really scaring me.”

Without thinking Benny grabbed her elbow, startling her. He could feel her arm stiffen. “Come on, my house is closer. I’ll drive you.”

****

Sarah didn’t have the time to ponder why she was in the passenger seat of Benny Benedetto’s black Jeep. All she really could do was watch the little screen of his navigation system. She silently willed the little arrow to move faster as it travelled along the straight blue line that represented the Garden State Parkway.

“So Sarah, do you know what this is about?”

“Not for certain,” she said softly. “But I have an idea.”

This reeks of Mickey Nolan
. Gigi hadn’t even sounded like herself. She thought back to the first sounds she’d heard when she’d picked up the call. For a split second she’d worried that the gravelly rasp had been a crank call, something linked to the notes.

Her head ached.
What the hell was going on?
Suddenly, it seemed like nothing was as it had been and everything that was supposed to happen, wasn’t. Were they really on their way to the southern Jersey town of Margate or was it true, after all, that the world was flat and they were actually racing to its edge?

Benny gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. His mouth was set, his jawbone distinct, eyes intent on the road. Her mouth went dry.

His appearance struck her as that of a movie criminal or gangster with his dark broodiness. His broad frame filled the car seat. Sensing her gaze, like the bloodhound she knew he was, he turned to her.

“Okay?” he asked. A softness had come to his eyes, powerfully evident in the brevity of their shared glance. Something genuine beamed in them and that, she knew, was the reason she sat beside him now as they went to retrieve her best friend.

This man was the biggest pain in the ass she’d ever known but, damn it, she trusted him. She closed her eyes. Gigi wasn’t the only one that needed help. Apparently, wrong-guy syndrome was contagious.

They took exit thirty-six off the freeway following the signs to the Margate Bridge. Sarah offered to pay the toll but Benny shook his head and pointed to the EZ Pass gadget affixed to his windshield. His navigation system directed them down Ventnor Avenue where they turned onto the road toward the bay.

“What did we ever do without these direction gadgets, huh?”

“Compasses.” His voice was low, a near whisper.

“Never could figure out how they worked,” she said, then clarified. “I was a scout troop drop out.”

He ignored her nervous attempt at levity. “They’re easy enough.” His eyes continued to watch the road ahead of him as he spoke. “You hold a compass up to your chest so that the needle points to magnetic north. They call that
true north.”

His knowledge of the antiquated device turned her on. He could recite the phone book and her ridiculous senses would hear a sonnet. She kept her mouth shut as he continued.

“You have to align the needle and the little arrow, it’s usually red. Then you twist the base until it points in the direction you want to move toward.”

“If I relied on a compass to find my way here we’d be in Wyoming before we found Margate.”

“It sounds more difficult than it is.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?”

“No.” He chuckled. “Do I seem like a scout to you?”

A Rottweiler. A cowboy maybe. But, no. This was no Boy Scout.

“Uh, not really. I guess it’s your compass knowledge.”

“My father showed me how. I inherited his antique compass.”

Up ahead, on the left, the sign for the Osprey Inn came into view. “There it is!” She pointed her finger and Benny switched on his blinker.

****

Benny pulled his truck into a head-on parking space in front of the motel. The stucco façade had seen better days, but at least the place wasn’t a dive. It had clean, newish blue and white striped awnings and freshly painted doors and trim.

He turned to Sarah. “Need me to go with you?”

Sarah shook her head. “I’d better go alone.”

“I’ll be right here if you need, um, anything.” The word “me” wouldn’t form on his lips, the taste too foreign.

Her mouth curved into a small smile as she closed the door, turned, and walked hurriedly toward the hallway.

Benny switched on the radio and reclined his seat. He hoped some soft music would distract his thoughts, or at least relax the ongoing tightness in his chest that was the new norm since the moment Sarah Grayson entered his life.

He rooted around the glove box for something to munch on but found nothing, admonishing himself for not replacing the bag of pretzels he always kept on hand. He looked at the clock on the dash. It was well beyond lunch hour. His belly was empty.

He sat upright and punched a button on the navigation screen deciding there had to be plenty of available eateries nearby, even in the off-season. He thought of Sarah’s comment about the value of such a device and his lengthy reply about the use of a compass.
Where had that come from?

He looked at the clock again. She’d been gone a while. He made the mental note to give Sarah ten more minutes and then he was going to find her. Why hadn’t he gotten her cell phone number? That was a no-brainer for someone who’d been a cop for half his life. But, Sarah Grayson did a good job at scrambling his brain. Besides he was too hungry, and on the verge of ornery, to think clearly. Ten minutes tops, and that’s all he’d give her.

****

Sarah sat on one bed, Gigi on the other. For the last half hour her main function had been to feed Gigi a continuous stream of tissues. Gigi was on a roll, going from sobbing, broken, jilted lover to rabid drama queen. Sarah knew better than to interject anything until the woman ran out of steam. So, she waited and doled tissues from the box she held on her lap.

“You know what I’m going to do?” Gigi asked, tossing yet another tissue onto the floor. “I’m going to hop on a plane to Vegas. Yup, I am. Non-friggin-stop.”

Sarah knew Gigi would do no such thing, but she didn’t comment. She pulled another tissue from the box and waited until Gigi reached out a hand to beckon for one.

“I think it’s time I met this sometimes-wife of his, don’t you?” She sniffed. “I mean, after all, it’s been
years.”

She started to cry again, her mouth pulled down forming a “u” of lips on her face. A squeaky sob escaped her. “Years,” she repeated, quieter this time, her tone absent of the rage it had held a moment ago.

“How many years has Mickey Dolan been telling me his marriage is over? Huh?” She turned to Sarah and punched the mattress with both hands as though imploring her for an answer.

She remained silent knowing Gigi would spew it. “Seven goddam years, that’s how many. I believed him every freaking time. Can you believe that? I’m sitting here alone, packed and ready. And, he’s taken the wife to Vegas to ‘give it another shot.’”

Her laugh was more like a growl. “I’m pathetic. I gave that bastard the best years of my life.”

That was enough. Sarah got up and joined Gigi where she sat, carrying the box of tissues with her. They sat side by side on the faded boldly floral bedspread. “Number one, the best years of your life start today, pal, okay?”

“Yeah right,” she said and snorted. “If this is the beginning of the best then I’m screwed.”

“Gigi, knock it off.” Sarah’s voice came out more harshly than she’d intended. Her atypical unsympathetic sound surprised both of them, and for a moment they just stared at each other.

Sarah knew that if she recoiled at this point she’d lose Gigi to the sea of self-pity again. She sat up straighter, cleared her throat and kept her face stern. “From this moment on, any time you give to thinking or talking about Mickey Nolan, even if it’s in plotting on how to get him back for hurting you, is a delay in the start of the best years of your life. You got that? He’s had seven years. So, how many more days, hours, or even minutes does he get? It’s your choice.”

“You’re supposed to be smoothing my hair and offering to go to the vending machine for chocolate.” Gigi sniffed.

“Not this time,” Sarah was emphatic. It felt good, even though she was really just winging it.

Gigi pulled her own tissue from the box and swabbed it over her swollen, red, wet face. “What time is it?” she asked from behind the tissue shrouding her eyes like a veil.

Sarah looked at her watch. “Two-ten.”

“Tell me when it’s two-eleven.”

Gigi lowered the tissue from her face and met Sarah’s gaze. She was still a mess of smeared makeup but Sarah finally saw evidence of her best friend’s features there amidst the Picasso painting of her face.

“Why?” Sarah asked, feeling a trickle of relief.

Gigi wiped her nose with an exaggerated swipe of the tissue. “I want to remember exactly when the best years of my life started.”

Sarah checked again. “Right now.”

Chapter Fifteen

While Gigi used the bathroom to tidy her appearance, Sarah rejoined Benny outside. Thoughtfully, by using his GPS, he’d found a diner that was open for business. She was starved.

She briefly filled Benny in on Gigi’s situation. While the words tumbled from her mouth, she finally allowed her frustration to surface. “He’s a poisonous snake,” she spat. “And, I swear, if she goes near that louse again I’ll chop her legs off.”

Benny laughed heartily. It was the first time she’d heard the sound come from him. She found it pleasant—a deep resonant tone that put a light in his eyes and transformed his expression into one of affable appeal. The moment zapped her breath, rendering her speechless.

“Well, that’ll save her from having to buy shoes,” he said. His ridiculous response to her equally absurd comment released her tension. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

In the briefest of moments, the levity vanished as they sat in the closed space within Benny’s Jeep. But Sarah did not miss the message in his eyes, the momentary knowing that something new had transpired between them. It was an acknowledgement of a connection that she absolutely could not, and did not, want. But there was no denying its existence. Not anymore.

Thankfully, Gigi emerged from the motel. She had done a good job of putting herself back together. Her hair was in order and lipstick in place.

“Thanks for bringing Sarah to my rescue,” Gigi said into the open window of the vehicle. Her breath smelled of minty toothpaste.

“Want some lunch?” Benny asked.

“I could eat,” she said. “Want me to follow you?”

“Come with us,” Benny said. “I’ll bring you back here after the diner.”

Gigi nodded at the suggestion. She went to her car and popped the trunk. As she did, Sarah turned to Benny. “Thanks, I don’t want her driving right now.”

“I figured that.”

“I’ll go back home with her in her car later. Keep her company,” Sarah said.

“Good idea,” Benny said.

“Thanks for, you know, doing this.” Sarah was feeling shy now that an invisible truth had been released. It was as if a third occupant had already squeezed into the vehicle, crowding them. She focused her gaze ahead through the windshield. She didn’t trust herself to look at him right now.

“Hey, it was evident I needed to do something. Plus I’ve learned that if I get you any more pissed at me, you might chop my legs off. Handy to know.”

****

They ordered eggs and hot coffee, and Sarah was pleased to see that Gigi dug right into her meal.

The waitress came by and refilled their mugs, leaving the check on the table. Sarah reached for it at the same time as Benny did. Their fingers touched, radiating a taser-like warning to her senses. She pulled her hand back.

“Please, let me do this,” Sarah said, reaching into her purse for her wallet. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Not necessary.” He stood from his chair, marched over to the front counter, and paid the check.