The Comeback Girl Page 2

  “Take a seat. As long as we’re doing this, I might as well get our high-school protégée in here to learn the process.” And help defuse any tension, he silently added.

  She opened her mouth as if to ask him something but closed it and smiled. “Great.”

  Donnie hurried to the office area, where he found Bethany loading paper into the copy machine. “Have you done fingerprinting before?”

  She finished aligning the paper and closed the plastic latch before looking at him. “Twice. Why? You got a criminal to book?”

  He recognized the gleam in her eyes. Police work was ninety percent boring. The younger you were, the more you coveted the ten percent. Donnie couldn’t fault her, though. Wasn’t that a big part of why he was hell-bent on leaving? For the excitement?

  “Nope. Sorry. Just a business license.”

  “We only do those on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Her tone reminded him of his ex-wife again. No one messed with Sandy’s routine.

  “It’s either that or filing. Personally, I’d choose just about anything over the tombs—we lost a clerk back there once, you know,” he teased. “The kid went in and never came out.” Her reluctant smile made him wink. “And it is our job to serve the public.”

  She let out a weighty sigh. “Is she pretty?”

  The question stopped him cold. “Who?”

  “The fingerprint person.”

  “What makes you think it’s a she?”

  Bethany made a snuffling sound he recognized as a universal sound of teenagers. “You’re a guy, and I guarantee if the person was a sixty-year-old man with loose dentures you’d be back at your desk.”

  Donnie chuckled. “I’ll tell Mr. Groipe you said so.”

  Her eyes went big. Albert Groipe was the principal of Gold Creek High.

  “She’s pretty,” Donnie said, letting her off the hook. “She’s also an old friend. Promise you won’t rat on me, okay? I don’t want to be accused of showing favoritism to my cronies.”

  Her eyes narrowed with a suspicious look that reminded him of his son Lucas. Strange. I used to be good with kids.

  KRISTIN PACED the confines of the small room as if it were a cell. She hadn’t expected to see Donnie. Not that it was any big deal. They were adults, and she’d known they would run into each other from time to time. This was Gold Creek, after all. Population three thousand nine hundred and twenty. Make that twenty-two.

  She used the few minutes that it took Donnie to find the student helper to piece together what she knew of Donnie’s history since their inglorious breakup. The day after high-school graduation, she’d taken off for Ireland where she’d planned to get a job as a nanny. She hadn’t seen Donnie at the ceremony, although she’d heard that he was present, accompanied by Sandy Grossman—the girl whose locker had been next to his all through high school. Kristin had always sensed Sandy’s interest in Donnie, but he wasn’t the flirtatious type. He was a one-woman man.

  He’d certainly proven that the whole time they’d dated—from homecoming her freshman year until he’d broken up with her midway through her senior year. She’d understood his reasons for breaking up. College had presented a whole slew of temptations, and Donnie was honest about what he wanted in life—new places and new faces. Unfortunately, in her immature attempt to make him regret his decision…

  Kris pushed the thought aside. Self-recrimination was a waste of time. If she wanted a guilt trip all she needed to do was talk to her son. A child who’d gone from little angel to demon spawn almost overnight.

  “Kristin, this is Bethany Murdock,” Donnie said, leading a small, skinny girl with wiry hair and poorly disguised acne into the room. “Her dad runs West Coast Auto Parts. Her mom’s a photographer. Didn’t she take the pictures at Jenny’s wedding, Beth?”

  The girl grunted. She looked five or six years older than Zach, but they apparently shared the same language. Kris’s greeting was acknowledged with a nod.

  “Get a print sheet, Beth, while I find the ink pad and some tissues.”

  Kris’s heart rate went up a notch when he moved to her side, a wad of towelettes in hand. “I haven’t done this for a while,” he said, “but I think I can remember how. They say you never forget.” His tone was pleasant, no innuendo implied.

  She kept her arms at her sides to avoid touching him. Despite his genial manner, Kris felt an under-current of tension. Even though enough water had passed under their bridge to drown an elephant, their history remained painful, the issues unresolved.

  She’d seen Donnie a few times over the years. At Josh’s funeral. Her brother-in-law—Jenny’s first husband—had succumbed to cancer just a few hours after the twins were born. And last spring Donnie had been instrumental in helping Andi’s husband, Jonathan, clear his name after Jon was accused of murder. But this was her first sustained conversation with Donnie since she’d come home to live.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Donnie. What’s new?” she asked, anxious to keep some kind of conversation going. “I heard you and Sandy got married about a year or so after I left, right?”

  His grunt sounded like a confirmation.

  “Sorry to hear about the divorce. Ida told me Sandy married a movie star or something.”

  His friendly smile went flat. Bethany shot her a scathing look.

  “He builds sets for a production company.”

  “Oh,” Kris said, her nervousness growing. “You have a son, don’t you? A couple of years younger than Zach.”

  “Lucas is nine. He turns ten next month.”

  “Then they’re just a year apart. Zach will be eleven in November.” Something in his eyes said he already knew that. Her face started to heat up.

  “Do you and Sandy share joint custody?” She couldn’t repress her curiosity. She’d be dealing with Zach’s father all too soon.

  “Theoretically,” he said shortly.

  Bethany made a growling sound and slipped between Donnie and Kris. Her bony shoulder made contact with the fleshy part of Kris’s arm. “I can do this,” Bethany said. “I’ve helped Margie before.”

  “Okay,” Donnie said, apparently not noticing the girl’s protective attitude. He gave Kris a friendly smile. She could use a friend. Too bad she didn’t trust herself with men. She’d made a few mistakes over the years. From the marketing genius who’d lacked a conscience, to the ski instructor who’d lacked self-control. She was sick of riding the pendulum between loser and bruiser.

  “So where are all the guys from your band?” she asked as Beth took her right hand and firmly made black impressions in the spaces allotted for each digit.

  As a civilian deputy with the Search and Rescue program, Donnie had been in charge of his own little band of merry men, who’d moonlighted as Conundrum—a garage band that played all the local venues. “Rory, Jimbo and Bernie, right?” she asked, conjuring up an image for each name.

  His low chuckle made the hair on the back of her hand rise. Bethany pressed down extra hard on Kris’s remaining two fingers. I’m not after your boss, Kris almost said. The last thing in the world she needed right now was a relationship. She had to stay focused on her fledgling business, her son and her family.

  “Jimbo’s making long hauls to the East Coast. The rest are scattered. Not a lot of jobs in this area. You’re pretty brave to set up your massage therapy office in Gold Creek.”

  “So I’ve been told. I’m hoping people will be open-minded enough to give me a try, but if not, I’ll see what I can arrange with a couple of chiropractors in the bigger cities. I can commute, if necessary.”

  “Is it true you’re using the basement of the old bordello?”

  “Yep. They laid the carpet on Monday. I love it. It’s cozy and quiet. And it keeps my overhead down because I help out upstairs to offset my rent.”

  The old bordello—once a house of ill repute, hence the name—now served as both a business and a home. Jonathan and Andi occupied the second floor, while Ida Jane lived in the family quarters on the main floor. T
he Old Bordello Antique Shop and Coffee Parlor—which Andi was now running—took up the front half of the building.

  The historic structure was something of a white elephant and cost a fortune to heat each winter, but neither Kris nor her sisters could conceive of selling the place as long as Ida Jane was alive.

  Bethany finished with Kristin’s right hand and reached for the left. A crackling radio exchange erupted in the distance. “That’s Cory calling in,” the girl blurted out as she dashed past Donnie.

  “Cory?”

  “Cory Brandell. Our latest hire. Quite the heartthrob,” he said with just a touch of exasperation. Kristin could remember when Donnie had been the source of ladies’ heads turning. Although there was no reason he couldn’t still be, she thought. His dark-brown crew cut and hazel eyes reminded her of actor Matthew McConaughey.

  “Let’s finish this,” he said, reaching for her left hand. “I don’t want to tie up your day any longer than necessary.”

  His tone was polite, businesslike. Nothing about his touch should have affected her as it did. A crazy tingle started at her wrist and bounced through her body like a fly caught in a lampshade. Donnie hesitated a second as if he felt it, too, but then he lowered his head and squinted at the paper as he aligned each finger in its little box. His thumb and index finger dwarfed her pale white digits. Her nails were closely trimmed and polish free.

  “I was really surprised when I heard you were a massage therapist. Your hands are so small.”

  She sensed his unspoken curiosity about her choice of profession. “I use more than my hands,” she said. “My technique utilizes my whole arm and body for leverage.” She looked at him. “Some people still think of massage as something sexual. But it’s a healing practice and it takes a lot of training to be a therapist.”

  “How’d you get into it?”

  She was asked that a lot. “After I left Ireland, I moved to Wisconsin with my cousins, Moira and Kathleen. They were working and going to school and I’d give them neck rubs. Moira thought I was so good, she signed me up for a course at the junior college. I loved it.”

  She took the towelette he offered and wiped the black ink from her fingertips. “My teacher called me a natural. He said I could divine other people’s pain through my fingers.”

  She felt a blush coming on and stepped back, pretending to search for a trash can. Donnie pointed to a gray plastic pail then led the way to the main room. “Did the people at County explain that you need to leave a check and a money order? One for us, one for the state.”

  Kristin dug in her shoulder bag for the sheaf of information she’d been toting around. It wasn’t cheap to relocate a business, she’d discovered. Telephone lines, a new cellular company, a change of license plates and driver’s license, new business cards and advertising. This was the last hurdle.

  “Yes. I picked up the money order on Wednesday,” she said, taking her checkbook from the zippered section of her purse. “Since Zach got home, I’ve—”

  She didn’t want to think about the frosty reception she’d gotten from her son. If it weren’t for the warmth he’d shown Sarge, the bloodhound Jonathan and Andi had given Zach last March when he and Kris had come home for Jen’s wedding, Kris would have sworn her cousin had sent home the wrong kid.

  She set the money order on top of the application then took the pen Donnie offered and opened the blue plastic cover.

  No checks. She’d used her last one at the DMV. “Perfect,” she muttered. Typical. “I swear, Donnie, I’m never like this outside of this town. In Ashland, I was even asked to serve on the PTA. What is it about Gold Creek that brings out the worst in me?”

  His chuckle was not unkind. He pulled out his wallet, but Kristin stopped him. “No. Don’t even think about it. I’m not a needy waif panhandling for change.”

  “I know that. You’re an old friend who will pay me back. Why delay this process because you’re too proud to take a little help?”

  “I don’t need help. I’m capable.” How long had she been trying to prove that? And now she’d messed up once more.

  “I know you are,” he said. “I saw the video of the twins’ birth. You were a rock for Jenny.”

  His gentle reassurance calmed her anguish.

  “Besides that, you’ve made it this far in the licensing process—which is no small feat, believe me. I’ve seen grown men weep at the bureaucratic hurdles the government throws up these days.”

  He removed two bills from his wallet. A twenty and a five. “This isn’t a big deal, Kristin. I pay it for you, you send me a check. Simple.”

  “I’ll run home, pick up some checks and be right back.”

  “Mail it. I’m living at my folks’ old house on Granite Hollow.”

  “No, I want to get this cleared up right—” A sudden thought hit her. She’d promised to take the afternoon shift at the antique store and judging by the clock on the wall, she had ten minutes to get there. “I don’t suppose you could swing by the bordello after work, could you? I told Andi I’d cover for her this afternoon.”

  He hesitated just a second. “Sure, if it makes you feel better. I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hello to Ida Jane, anyway.”

  As he wrote out the receipt, he asked, “Is your son ready for school?”

  No. “I hope so.” Zach was registered, but Kris had no idea what to expect next week when classes began. He had never responded to a move this way before. At Jenny’s suggestion, Kristin and Zach had visited a family therapist yesterday. The woman had concluded that Zach was “perfectly delightful” with normal fears, worries and concerns. Her advice: “Keep the lines of communication open and spend more quality time with him.”

  Maybe I could find us matching brick walls to bang our heads against, Kris thought.

  Donnie passed the slip of paper across the chest-high counter. “Thanks,” she said.

  She folded it and tucked it in her purse right beside her half-finished list of things to do. Between running errands, seeing to Ida Jane’s needs and worrying about Zach, Kris felt frazzled. And she didn’t have a single massage scheduled. If business picked up, who knew how she’d keep things organized?

  She stifled a sigh. She’d been managing on her own for eleven years. She’d get through this, too.

  “Kris, are you okay?”

  She straightened her shoulders and tossed her head. Leave it to Donnie to pick up on her fears. “Fine. Just thinking about all the things I have to get done today.”

  His eyes showed concern. Could he see how close she was to the edge? How little sleep she’d gotten the past few months, fretting that she’d screwed up the lives of everyone she loved? “Gotta run. I’ll see you later this afternoon, then. I’ll give you a discount coupon for a massage.”

  Not that she figured he’d ever use it. The memories between them—both the good and the bad—would probably get in the way of her therapeutic touch.

  She bumped into three deputies on her way out the door—two strangers and Edgar Olson, who’d been the arresting officer the night of her disgrace. She faked a breezy hello, then dashed to her car.

  If she’d been in Ashland, she would have handed each one of them her business card and talked about the benefits of massage for people who worked in stressful jobs like law enforcement. But something about Gold Creek robbed her of the confidence she’d fought so hard to acquire. And that scared her even more than the thought of facing Tyler Harrison—her son’s father.

  EVERYTHING ABOUT this sucky town sucks, Zach Sullivan decided as he looked out the window of the cheesy little house his aunt Jenny had given them to live in.

  The rooms were small and the backyard was so tiny he felt guilty making Sarge stay there. Yesterday he’d walked Sarge over to the bordello so the dog could play with Andi’s sheepdog puppy, Harley. The bordello had a huge backyard.

  Sarge was the only good part about this move, Zach thought. And Ida Jane wasn’t too bad.

  His mother’s great-aunt was almost
as old as the bordello. He liked her. He liked the building, too. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe its history. He enjoyed listening to Ida Jane tell stories about the place.

  Not that he’d ever admit that to his mother. No way. She’d lied to him for almost his entire life. He wasn’t going to just forgive her for that.

  Hell, no.

  He shook his head. His blond bangs brushed against his eyelashes. His mom had never allowed him to grow his hair this long before, but he figured she was on such a heavy guilt trip he could probably murder somebody and she’d still forgive him.

  She hadn’t even given him any crap about his nose ring. Which was sort of disappointing. The damn thing hurt like hell to have put in. The least she could have done was faint or yell or something when she saw it.

  Zach muttered the long string of epithets he and his cousins had spent weeks perfecting. Then he walked to the refrigerator and took out a Coke. Sarge, who’d been sleeping by the door, lifted his head.

  Zach walked to where the old hound was lying and sat down. He leaned back against the cabinet and closed his eyes.

  School would start on Monday, and Sunday was the twins’ first birthday party. A part of him had always dreamed of this kind of life—hanging out with family in a place where you felt kinda safe.

  But if his mother thought he was going to let this stupid town and its stupid people—including his a-hole father—into his life, she was crazy.

  He’d run away first. Maybe he’d stay with Moira and her family for a while in Chicago. He’d work the docks and save enough money to go back to Ireland where he was born. Zach had no memory of the place, but it had to be better than Gold Creek, California. Hadn’t his mother left the first chance she got? Why should he stay?

  If she made him meet his father, he’d do it. The guy was supposed to be rich. I’ll meet him, steal something valuable, then hock it for a ticket east.

  He stroked Sarge’s long, silky ear and took a swallow of his soda. Two tickets. He wasn’t going to leave Sarge behind. He’d missed the dog the whole time he was in Chicago.