Redemption Road (Jackson Falls #5) (5 page)

“Oh, for the love of God, Colleen, stop being so prickly. If I didn’t
want you here, I would’ve said so. I want to know why you came home the way you
did, driving that old beater of a car. I know Irv had money. So why are you
here, at Casa MacKenzie, instead of at some posh hotel in Portland?”  Casey
calmly dipped her tea bag up and down. Said, “Hand over your cup, I’ll give you
a refill.”

Her fingers reluctantly released the cup, and she watched as her
sister poured hot water over her limp tea bag. It had been an extraordinary
day, one in which a number of her illusions had been shattered. Maybe it was
time to raise the white flag and call a truce.

Casey handed her the cup. Their eyes met, and Colleen raised her
chin. “If you must know,” she said, “I’m broke. Irv’s kids tossed me out of the
house and changed the locks.”

Eyebrows raised, Casey leaned against the counter, teacup in hand,
and considered her words. “How broke?”

She took a deep breath, pride and shame warring inside her. Casey
would never know how much courage it took to speak the words aloud. “Broke as
in I have about twelve bucks to my name.” She sat back and waited for her
sister to pass judgment.

Instead, Casey nodded slowly. “That’s pretty broke. What happened?
You were Irv’s wife. Unless you had a prenup, you’re entitled to half of
everything he had. Even without a will.”

“Oh, there was a will. Irv left everything to me. His kids are
pissed, and they’re contesting the will, and I’m too tired to fight.”

“Colleen, if he left it to you…”

“I don’t want it. The house, the money. I don’t want any of it. We
were only married for a year. I’m the interloper here. The kids have every
right to be furious. It’s their inheritance. All I ever wanted was their
father, and he’s gone. But they refuse to believe that.”

“But based on what you’ve told me about Irv, he would have wanted
you to be taken care of.”

She shrugged and swished her tea bag around. “I’ll land on my feet.
I’ll get a job.”

“Doing what?”

She snorted. “In this one-horse town? Who the hell knows? I could
probably get a job pumping gas down at Charlie’s Citgo. I certainly got enough field
experience driving up from Florida.”

Dryly, Casey said, “I hate to burst your bubble, but Charlie’s
closed down two years ago.”

“Charlie finally packed it in and retired? Well, then, good for
him.” She raised her cup in salutation. “There goes my illustrious career down
the drain, before it even got started.”

Casey said,  “I might be able to help you in the job department.”

Colleen raised her chin. “Please don’t treat me like a welfare
case. It’s bad enough that I have to depend on your charity to have a bed to
sleep in tonight.”

“Oh, get off your high horse. It’s not welfare. I’m your sister. Family
takes care of family.”

“Right.”

“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get a job and a place to live, and I’ll be out
of your hair as soon as humanly possible. I’ll pay you back for the bed and
board, and—”

“Damn it, Colleen, if you weren’t taller than me, I swear to God
I’d take you over my knee and spank you. What I was about to say, before you
went postal on me, was that we’re looking for a studio assistant. The job is
temporary. Ali’s been working for us. Billy’s wife? But she just gave birth to twins,
she was off her feet for the last six weeks of the pregnancy, and now that
she’s given birth, she’ll be on maternity leave for another three months.
Things are a mess out there right now, and Rob won’t let me near it. Probably
afraid I’ll find out just how disorganized he really is. As if I didn’t already
know. So you’d really be helping us out. We need somebody, and we need them
soon, before all that piled-up paper tips over and smothers my husband.”

Colleen swallowed back the retort that wanted to come out of her
mouth.
Three months.
She needed a job, and she could handle three months.
“And I’d be doing what?”

“Answering the phones, keeping Rob’s calendar, scheduling
appointments. Local musicians have started to discover us, and they’re renting
studio time. We need somebody to keep track. Filing. Running errands. Making our
travel arrangements when we go out of town. Showing the VIP treatment to any
VIP who comes calling.” Casey crossed her arms over her chest. “Other duties as
assigned.”

Dryly, she said, “Do other duties include making coffee? Because I
make really bad coffee.”

“Look, nobody’s forcing you to do anything. If you want to walk
back out that door right now, I won’t try to stop you. But if you want to quit
being a brat and act like a sister for once, I can help you out of this mess
you’ve found yourself in. I can give you a job, and your own apartment. So you
can be independent, and you won’t have to talk to your sister unless you want
to.”

“I never said I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“No. You didn’t say it.”

This wasn’t the way she’d intended for this conversation to go. “I’m
sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m a little stressed right
now.”

“Understandable. Do you want to hear about the apartment or not?”

“What’s the point? I don’t even have the money to buy toilet paper
for the bathroom.”

“That’s inconsequential. I’ll give you a loan. You can pay me back
a little at a time. The apartment’s upstairs over the studio. Brand-new
everything, and it’s sitting there empty. You’re welcome to it. We’ll negotiate
rent, once you’re working and can put together a budget.”

“I feel like a leech. I don’t like that feeling.”
And I don’t
want to be beholden to you.

“Get over it.” Casey glanced at the clock. “Do you want to go look
at it?”

“At this time of night?” The look on her sister’s face stopped her
in her tracks. Colleen exhaled. Said brusquely, “Fine.”

“Fine. You can talk to Rob tomorrow about the job.”

“Shouldn’t he weigh in about the apartment, too?”

“We already discussed it. But if you want the job, you’ll have to
approach him about it.”  Casey opened the coat closet and tossed Colleen her
jacket. “I’m willing to help you,” she said, pulling on her own jacket, “but
some things, you’re going to have to do for yourself.”

Casey

In the darkness of their bedroom, Casey peeled off her clothes,
folded them, and laid them neatly on the chair near the bed. Lifting the
covers, she slipped between cool Egyptian cotton sheets and followed a trail of
warm body heat across the king-size mattress until she found her husband. Pressing
herself close against his backside, she wrapped an arm around his ribs and let
out a lingering sigh.

From the darkness beside her, his voice said, “You okay?”

“She pushes my buttons.”

“No kidding.” He rolled onto his back and folded an arm around
her. “Just say the word, babydoll, and I’ll march downstairs and toss her out
on her keister.”

She let out a soft snort and rested her head against his chest. “Oh,
stop. You’re such a wiseass.”

“I’m serious. I have to defend my lady’s honor.”

“My honor doesn’t need defending, thank you. She just frustrates
me to no end. She’s so damn prickly. Everything I say or do sets her off.”

“If having her here is going to add stress to your life, I’d
rather see her gone.”

“Everybody’s life is stressful.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’d forgotten that we can’t manage to be in the same room without
irritating each other. It’s been that way ever since Mama died. You’d think
we’d have outgrown it by now. We’re both pushing forty.”

“I’m serious. If having her here will raise your blood pressure
and your stress level, it’s not worth the risk.”

“I’m not a hothouse flower, MacKenzie. Don’t treat me like one.”

He rolled away from her and switched on the bedside lamp, and she
blinked at the sudden brightness. “No,” he said, “you’re not. But you are
thirty-seven years old and in the first trimester of pregnancy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m healthy as a horse.”

He squared his jaw. “Except for that tiny little detail about
elevated blood pressure.”

“You heard what Dr. Levasseur said. It’s only mildly elevated, and
that’s common during pregnancy.”

“She also said she didn’t want to see it go any higher.”

“And it won’t. I promise. We’re monitoring it closely. You worry
too much. Listen…I showed Colleen the apartment.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Watching his eyes, she said, “We came to an agreement. I also
offered her a job. Just until Ali gets back from maternity leave.”

A narrow line bisected his forehead. “Is that a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. She’s smart and quick, and she’ll make
the ideal assistant. Besides, what else is she supposed to do in this town? 
You need somebody to keep you in line, and she needs to earn a living and get
back on her feet. Looks to me like a marriage made in heaven.”

“I’m still not convinced, but she’s your sister. This is your call.
I’m staying out of it.”

“
Au contraire
, my friend. I told her that if she’s
interested in the job, she has to talk to you about it. I want her to have to
work for what she wants. And let’s be honest. You’re the one who’ll be her boss.”

“Wrong. We’re partners. She’ll be working for you, too.”

“Of course. That’s why you won’t let me touch a thing on your desk.
You might as well admit it, MacKenzie. The studio’s your baby.”

“You,” he said, reaching up to turn out the light, “are my baby. The
studio is what keeps me off the streets and out of jail.”

“And a good thing for all of us that it does.”

“Hush,” he said, tugging her close and wrapping those long limbs
around her. “Time to sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow will be an interesting day.”

Harley

Wellness visit and physical exam.
Check.
Cleansing of paw
injury and antibiotic prescription to heal the infection.
Check.
Shots
for rabies, distemper, kennel cough.
Check.
Worm medicine, flea and tick
meds.
Check.
Flea dip, shampoo, clipping of hair and nails.
Check.
Collar,
leash, and fifty-pound bag of the most expensive dry dog food in the galaxy.
Check.
As Dr. Raleigh’s receptionist ran his American Express card through the
machine, Harley said dryly, “This reminds me of when my ex-wife used to spend
the day at some exclusive spa. It cost about the same as this, but she never came
out looking as good as Ginger, here.”

The woman smiled and handed him back his card. “She looks
wonderful, Mr. Atkins. Now that she’s been clipped and groomed, you can see
that noble and beautiful face. I’d say there’s some Airedale in her. Along with
some—”

“Brontosaurus?”

“Well, I was going to say English sheep dog, but brontosaurus is
close enough.”  She efficiently tore his credit card receipt from the printer,
plunked it down on the counter in front of him, and fished in the jar for a pen.
Her voice grew syrupy as she peered over the counter. “She’s a good girl, yes,
she is. Yes, she is!”

Standing obediently beside him, wearing her new purple leash and
collar, Ginger tentatively wagged her tail. When he was through signing his
life away, Harley put the pen back in the jar, handed the receptionist the
original receipt, and pocketed his copy. She thanked him, and he returned the
sentiment, wondering as he did so why he always felt compelled to thank the
person into whose hands he’d just placed a significant portion of his
hard-earned cash. It had to be a Southern thing. All that early training from
his momma had apparently paid off. Somewhere up in heaven, she was nodding her
approval of his flawless manners. “You ready, Skeeziks?” he said to Annabel.

His daughter rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve years old, Dad. Don’t
you think it’s time you stopped calling me that?”

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t keep remindin’ me of that fact.”

Outside the veterinary clinic, he carried the massive bag of dog
food to the mud-splattered Chevy pick-up parked at the curb, opened the
tailgate, and tossed it in. He was just closing the gate when he saw them come
out of the bank and start across Main Street. The Bradley sisters. Against his
better judgment, he paused to watch them, two damn fine-looking women in
form-fitting designer jeans. Except for a discrepancy in height—Casey was petite,
about five feet tall, while her sister was a long, cool woman—they looked as
alike as two peas in a pod. But the similarity ended there, for one of them was
warm and nurturing, while the other was cool and aloof.

Behind him, Annabel said, “Look, Dad, it’s Mrs. MacKenzie!”

He double-checked the tailgate to make sure it had properly
latched. “I can see that.”

Casey noticed them, smiled broadly, and quickened her steps. “Good
morning, Harley!”

“Morning, ladies.”

“Annabel, this must be your new dog.” Crouching to dog’s-eye
level, she ruffled Ginger’s furry face and scratched behind her ears, while the
dog rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Ginger. The lady at the vet’s office said she’s part Airedale and
part English sheep dog.” 

While Annabel and Casey made nice with the dog, he was left with
nothing else to do but make nice with the Widow Berkowitz. That was how he’d
decided to think of her, just in case those blue eyes made him forget, even
temporarily, his vow to maintain his distance. Leaning against the tailgate, he
folded his arms and said, “Beautiful weather.”

“There’s a storm coming.”

He glanced in surprise at the sky, a hearty blue, broken only by
the occasional cloud. Turning back to her with interest, he asked, “What makes
you say that?”

Those huge blue eyes studied him coolly. Shoving her hands into
the pockets of her jacket, the Widow said, “I grew up here. Trust me. By
tomorrow, there’ll be snow.”

“Hunh. Well, I sure won’t argue with you. I grew up in Georgia;
what do I know about snow?  Although I did spend a decade in New York City.”

“It’s not the same thing at all. New York gets coastal winters. Lots
of ice, not much snow. Jackson Falls gets the real thing.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed that.”

From her crouching position on the sidewalk, Casey MacKenzie said,
“Rob and I haven’t had you and Annabel over for a meal in quite some time. How
about tonight?  There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

He tried to think of an excuse. Not that he had anything against
the MacKenzies. They were what his momma used to call good folks. Unspoiled by
the money and the fame, they were just regular people whose shelves happened to
be lined with Grammy Awards. Refreshing in this day and age. It was the
blue-eyed ice princess he was hoping to avoid. He cast a quick glance at the
Widow, who was pointedly ignoring him. “Fine,” he heard himself say. “What time
should we be there?”

Casey beamed. “Does seven work for you?”

“Seven’s fine.”

“Great!”  Casey rose to her feet, gave the dog a final hearty pat,
and flashed Annabel a warm smile. “We’ll see you both at seven.”

As the sisters walked away down the sidewalk, Harley stood and
watched them, glued in place like a bird dog on point. “Don’t go there,” he
muttered to himself. “Don’t even go there.”

“Go where?”

The two women went into the five-and-ten store and Harley swiveled
his head around to find Annabel studying him keenly. Heat raced around the back
of his neck and flushed his face. He exhaled a hard breath.

“Nowhere,” he said brusquely. “Just get in the truck.”