Once in a Blue Moon (20 page)

“Is this your way of saying I should look for another job?” Her sister spoke quietly, but there was an edge in her voice. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s not a question of what
I
want. It’s about what’s best for you. I’m sure you could use the money.” Lindsay was paying Kerrie Ann a small stipend, but it was only enough to keep her in pocket money. She went on, “If you want me to make some calls, I can do that, too. I know most of the other shopkeepers, and there’s always someone looking to hire extra help. Ginny Beal at Stitch and Sticks”—the yarn shop three doors down—“was telling me just the other day that she could use someone to fill in on her days off. It would only be part-time, but it could work into something full-time. And I think you’d like Ginny.” Lindsay prattled on, feeling guilty but also resenting the fact that she was being put in this position.

“What do I know about knitting?” Kerrie Ann sounded dubious.

About as much as you know about books
, Lindsay thought. But all she said was “You could always learn.”

Kerrie Ann gave a dismissive laugh. “Somehow I don’t see that happening. Anyway, I’m looking to make some real money. I was talking to one of the guys in AA, and he says they have adult ed at the high school three nights a week. I thought I’d check it out, maybe sign up for a class. Could be the start of a whole new career.”

“That sounds like a fine idea. But,” Lindsay forged on, “I’m sure some extra cash would come in handy in the meantime. And after all, this job was only supposed to be temporary.”

Kerrie Ann’s eyes narrowed. “Look, if you’re firing me, just say so.”

“I didn’t say that,” Lindsay hedged, reluctant to put it so bluntly.

“You don’t want me embarrassing you in front of your customers? Fine,” Kerrie Ann snapped. “Just don’t give me a load of crap about it being for
my
benefit. Okay?”

Lindsay realized, too late, that now might not have been the best time to bring this up. Her sister had announced over breakfast that she’d quit smoking as of the night before, so she was bound to be more than a little on edge. But though a part of Lindsay wanted to drop the subject before things got ugly, she knew she had to see this through—for Ollie’s sake as well as her own.

She drew in a breath and exhaled slowly before saying, “All right, then, I think it’s time you looked for another job. Not,” she was quick to add, “because you’re not good at this one. Or because any of the customers have complained. As a matter of fact, several mentioned how helpful you were. But I can’t keep on taking advantage of you like this.”

“Now, sugar, don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a bit?” put in Miss Honi. “There’s no rush, is there? And Lord knows we could use the extra help. If it’s a matter of money, I’m more’n willing to have you take it out of my salary. You pay me too much as it is.”

Lindsay knew she was only trying to help but felt annoyed with her nonetheless. “I’m not cutting anyone’s salary,” she said. “Besides, we
all
may be out of jobs before too long if Mr. Heywood has his way. It’d be nice if at least one of us had something to fall back on.”

“I think I know what this is really about.” Kerrie Ann didn’t raise her voice, but its flat calm had an eye-of-the-hurricane quality. “It’s about Ollie, isn’t it? You think I’m a bad influence.”

“No one thinks that,” piped Miss Honi, but even she sounded weak and unconvincing.

The interior of the car grew close and hot, despite the cool ocean air blowing in through the vents. “This isn’t about Ollie.”
Not entirely, that is.
“But since you brought it up . . . no, I don’t think you’re a bad influence or that you’d ever intentionally hurt him.” Lindsay chose her words carefully. “But you and he are in different leagues. And while I’m sure all this attention is very flattering for you, I’d hate to see him get his heart broken.”

“Who says I’m gonna break his heart?” Kerrie Ann tossed back.

“Please.” Lindsay rolled her eyes. Ollie was adorable, but he was hardly her sister’s type. Lindsay would have thought Kerrie Ann’s new twelve-step buddies—Biker Dude and Tattoo Man, as she’d mentally dubbed them—would be more her speed.

Kerrie Ann glared at her. “We’re not planning to elope, if that’s what you mean. But I like Ollie. We have fun together. Is that a crime?”

“No, of course not.” Lindsay struggled to maintain an even tone. “Everybody likes Ollie. But it’s not all smiles and laughter with him. Underneath all that, he takes things pretty seriously. I always knew when he fell in love, he’d fall hard. But I hoped it would be someone who’d love him back.”

“How do you know I’m not that person?”

Backed into a corner, Lindsay was forced to admit, “Somehow I just don’t see it.”

Kerrie Ann slowly shook her head, wearing a disgusted look. “And what makes you such an expert, huh? You hardly know me.” The jab found its mark, and Lindsay winced. “But, hey, if you’re gonna be dictating my social life, maybe I should just move out.”

Lindsay, still irritable from her earlier encounter with the surveyor, snapped, “Why don’t you?”

There was a sharp intake of breath in the backseat, followed by the click of a seatbelt being unbuckled. When Lindsay glanced in the rearview mirror, all she could see was a quivering mound of golden curls. “Girls, this ain’t no way to act,” scolded Miss Honi. She was leaning in so close, Lindsay could smell the toothpaste on her breath, mingling with the stronger scent of her perfume. “You’re family, and family oughta stick together no matter what. Lord knows what I woulda done without my sister Annie.” Annie, long gone now, was the only member of her family who’d stuck by her all those years ago when Miss Honi, then Sue-Ellen Dondlinger, was being ostracized by the townsfolk after having been caught naked with the preacher’s son. To Kerrie Ann, she said in a gentle tone, “Your sister means well. It ain’t just Ollie she’s looking out for—she cares about you, too.” She gave Lindsay’s shoulder a not-so-gentle squeeze, saying to her, “And sugar, if you don’t ease up on that gas pedal, you’ll put us all in an early grave.”

Lindsay glanced at the speedometer and saw to her chagrin that she was doing seventy in a fifty-five-miles-per-hour zone. Luckily there were no cops around. She eased her foot off the gas pedal and let out a pent-up breath. She felt spent, and the workday hadn’t even begun. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to her sister. “I didn’t mean it. Of course I don’t want you to move out.”

But even as she said it, Lindsay wondered if she was being completely honest. Life with her sister, she was discovering, was more complicated than she’d ever imagined it would be. A line from a nursery rhyme came to mind:
When she was good, she was very, very good . . . and when she was bad she was horrid.

“I’m sorry, too,” Kerrie Ann offered grudgingly. “This quitting-smoking thing’s a real bitch. I guess it’s making me into one, too.” She treated Lindsay to a half-assed smile. “By the way, thanks again for last night. It was a nice party. Notice what I’m wearing?”

Lindsay had noticed. Kerrie Ann was wearing the rose-colored cardigan she’d given her unbuttoned far enough to show several inches of cleavage, with nothing but her bra underneath.

Work proved a welcome distraction. With paperwork to weed through and inventory to sort out, appointments with reps, and a steady stream of customers, Lindsay didn’t have a chance to dwell on the fight with her sister or the run-in with the surveyor. Still, she was grumpy all day, and her mood didn’t improve even after she got home.

When the phone rang in the kitchen as she and Miss Honi were cleaning up after supper, Lindsay snatched it up with a growl of frustration, certain it was just another unwanted solicitor—they always seemed to call at the most inconvenient times or when she was bone-tired after a day at work—and answered with a brisk “Hello?”

“Lindsay?”

A ripple of excitement went through her even as she pretended not to recognize the familiar male voice. “Yes, this is she.”

“It’s Randall. Randall Craig. How have you been?”

She carried the phone into the next room, where she could converse in private. “I’m fine,” she said, “and you?” Her heart was racing, and the room suddenly felt too warm.

Ever since they’d met, thoughts of Randall Craig had been darting in and out of her head like an errant child playing hide-and-go-seek. It was silly to fantasize about him, she knew. No different than when her female customers daydreamed about the heroes of romance novels. Besides, it wasn’t as if she were desperate. She had a boyfriend, and though he might not always be as available as she’d like, he was kind and loving and, most of all, a known quantity. Nevertheless, she found herself pressing the phone closer to her ear while her other hand found its way to her heart as if to still its wild beating.

“Worn out,” Randall replied with a laugh. “After fourteen cities in as many days, I can now reliably report that book tours are just a clever means of torture designed by sadistic publishers.”

“Does that include booksellers?”

“No, of course not—they’re the saving grace. Especially the ones who feed me.” After a brief pause, he added in a more intimate tone, “I had a good time with you the other night. I’ve been meaning to call, but I haven’t had a free moment until now. I only got back last night.”

“Welcome home.” She kept her voice light.

“Believe me, there’s no better place after two weeks on the road.”

“Has it been that long? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied. “I’ve been so busy.”

“I’d like to see you again. You wouldn’t happen to be free for dinner on Friday?”

“I don’t know; I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said to buy herself some time. She felt giddy at the prospect of seeing Randall again but sobered instantly at the thought of Grant. She’d made no plans to be with him—he’d be tied up all weekend—but she knew she’d feel guilty sneaking behind his back.

“There’s this little trattoria in my neighborhood,” Randall went on. “Fantastic food. Maybe not as good as Paolo’s but pretty darn close. The most sublime
spaghetti alle vongole
you’ll ever taste.”

She hesitated a moment longer before coming to a decision. One she knew deep down had been made for her the moment she’d heard his voice at the other end of the line. Throwing caution aside, she replied, “It sounds tempting. And I believe I am free that night.”

“Great! Why don’t you meet me at my place around seven o’clock? We can walk from there.” He gave her his address in Noe Valley, which she jotted down on a piece of scrap paper.

The following Friday, as she dressed for her date, Lindsay experienced few qualms. Those would come later, she knew. At the moment she was too busy fluttering about like a girl getting ready for her first prom. She’d tried on and discarded nearly every outfit in her closet and was on the verge of throwing up her hands in despair when Kerrie Ann stepped in and took command.

“Here, try this on,” she said, shoving a long skirt and paisley silk top at Lindsay.

Lindsay held the skirt up, observing dryly, “I didn’t know you owned anything below the knee.”

“Just try it on.”

The length of the skirt turned out to be deceptive, as it had a slit up one side all the way to midthigh. The top was modest by comparison, but with its plunging neckline, it was still racier than anything in her own wardrobe. Nevertheless, she had to admit the outfit was flattering. As she swiveled from side to side in front of the full-length mirror, she marveled. Was that really
her
? Who would have guessed that under her Land’s End exterior lurked a Victoria’s Secret vixen? The only question in her mind was which of the two Lindsays would get the upper hand with Randall. In the end, she compromised by borrowing her sister’s top and swapping the skirt for one of her own, a simple, straight black one that ended slightly above the knee.

The one area in which Kerrie Ann refused to compromise was the shoes to go with the outfit. They wore the same size, so Lindsay had no excuse not to try on the ones her sister thrust at her—a pair of black slingbacks with five-inch heels and red straps like racing stripes.

“Not on your life!” Lindsay declared after she’d taken a few unsteady steps in them. She collapsed onto the bed. “I’ll look like a complete idiot wobbling around in these. That is, if I don’t fall down and break my neck first.”

“Not if you practice. Watch me.” Kerrie Ann stepped into a pair of burgundy patent-leather stilettos and began strutting around the room with the ease of a beauty-pageant contestant.

Before Lindsay knew it, her sister had her by the elbow and was pulling her up off the bed and onto her feet. Amazingly, after a grueling ten minutes in which she continued to insist there was absolutely no way she was wearing those shoes, not tonight or any night, she found herself able to walk on her own without any help and with only a slight wobble to her step.

“I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting good at it or because my feet are so numb there’s no feeling left in them,” she said.

“Who cares? You look like ten million dollars. Isn’t that all that matters?”

Lindsay thought she’d rather have the ten million dollars to pocket, but Kerrie Ann looked so pleased that she refrained from saying so. In the end, Lindsay didn’t have the heart to deny her the pleasure of seeing her flat-footed big sister off in the shoes that she seemed to think would make a Cinderella out of her—if Lindsay didn’t fall on her face and crack her skull.