SATURDAY MORNING, LIAM drove around Safe Haven almost appreciating the day shift. It was 10:00 a.m. and when he stopped his car near the water, he could hear Rip Martin’s harmonica playing a wild, sad tune. The man was walking along the boardwalk, probably looking for a spot to set up his bucket and try to get the tourists to give him some pity money. No permit, of course. But Liam hated to cite him. His music added to the good feel of the town.
So did the raucous, staccato sound of the seagulls, rising in intensity. He looked down the boardwalk and saw the cause: a little girl and her parents had stepped outside of Biddie’s Bed and Breakfast and were throwing bread to them. They must be inlanders, unaware that their simple action would bring a cast of thousands and their accompanying mess. Biddie hurried out to warn them, wearing a big old-fashioned apron, spatula in hand. Liam smiled at the sight, but he was glad. Wouldn’t want the kid to have a seagull-related trauma.
The water lapped against the dock pilings and the salt-fishy smell of the docks grounded him. He’d spent way too much time thinking about Yasmin and how she had started to let him kiss her, then pulled back, last night at Ma Dixie’s.
Why did she always pull back, when he was pretty sure she was as attracted to him as he was to her? Was she still not ready for a serious relationship, the excuse she’d given before?
A call came in on his handheld and he turned it down to hear better over the static. It was Willa Jean, their dispatcher. “Robbery in progress. 10-14.”
“10-14?” He couldn’t have heard that right. Citizen holding suspect? On a Saturday morning?
He jogged back to the cruiser and climbed in, listening. Perp was described as a teenager, Caucasian, about five foot seven...brown hair... Liam got a sinking feeling. He knew a kid of that description.
He hit the lights and sped through town, peripherally noting a couple of dog walkers, people coming out of the grocery store, Rita and Jimmy arguing outside the diner.
Could Rocky really be stealing from the only exclusive men’s store in Safe Haven? And why?
He got to Mitchell’s Men’s Shop, walked in and froze. There was Mitch, weapon pulled, holding it on Rocky, who was literally quaking with fear. The sight was incongruous in the midst of neat rows of folded sweaters on glossy wooden tables and a couple of serious-looking mannequins in golf attire.
“Okay, Mitch, I’ll take it from here,” Liam said.
“You won’t let him get away?” Mitch, dressed in an impeccable white shirt and dark trousers, every hair in place, nonetheless had sweat beaded on his forehead and was breathing hard.
“Nope. You can put the gun away.”
Mitch did, slowly enough to make it clear he was reluctant.
Liam’s shoulders loosened. “Thanks. Now, what’s this all about?”
Mitch’s mouth settled into a frown. Rocky slumped against the wall of the store, his breath coming fast.
“Mitch? Rocky? Anyone want to tell me what went down here?”
“He stole two of my most expensive shirts, that’s what he did!” Mitch put his hands on his hips and glared at Rocky. “Ruined them with his dirty hands. I should never have let a kid like him in.”
A kid like him. Liam looked at Rocky in time to see the kid’s face crumple, and his own heart squeezed. He knew what it was to be considered riffraff.
“Can you describe what you saw?” he asked. “Rocky, sit down a minute. Right there on that bench, where I can see you.”
“I don’t...” Mitch looked at Liam and trailed off.
He could guess what Mitch had been about to say: that Rocky was too dirty to sit on the pale canvas bench. Well, too bad: that wasn’t true. The boy was a little unkempt, but thanks to Yasmin’s efforts, he showered every day and his clothes were clean. Liam stared Mitch down until the other man looked away.
“I was up there working on a window display,” Mitch said, gesturing toward the front of the store. “I’m pretty involved in what I’m doing, and when I look up, there’s this kid running out the door. Looking a lot fatter than when he came in, so I knew he’d stuffed something into his shirt. I chased after him.”
“With your gun,” Liam said drily.
“Scared the socks off me,” Rocky contributed. “He said he was gonna kill me if I didn’t stop. For a couple of shirts!”
“Shirts that cost more than you’ll ever be able to afford.” Mitch crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, so I did threaten him. He stole my property, from my property. And you’d better believe I’m thinking about making a full report.”
Liam sighed. He’d seen plenty of teen shoplifting—though rarely from a place like Mitchell’s Men’s Shop—and most storekeepers were more than happy to simply lodge a complaint, scold the kid and get their items back. Mitch, though, was a different type.
He ordered Rocky to stay put and then used his tablet to get a statement from Mitch. He made sure to listen carefully and check every detail. Sometimes, just feeling heard made people drop their complaints. Not that he wanted to influence Mitch, not really; Rocky needed to face the consequences of what he’d done. But Liam definitely had a soft spot for the child and didn’t want to add legal consequences to his already tumultuous life.
“Rocky, I’m going to have to take you on into the station,” he said. He really ought to cuff and search the boy, too, but he wasn’t going to. He was, however, going to need to call Rocky’s guardian.
Yasmin.
The thought of talking with her hyped up Liam’s heartbeat, which wasn’t good. Especially when his news wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.
But was Yasmin really his official guardian? Liam was pretty sure that the arrangement with Rocky’s mom was unofficial, which meant trouble could ensue.
Well, they’d deal with that when it happened. This was too serious to be brushed under the rug, especially with Mitch’s attitude. And even though fostering a child without official paperwork wasn’t exactly kosher, it was what the Safe Haven community did. Always had, and Liam hoped it always would.
“I’m too busy to deal with this right now,” Mitch said. “It’s going to have to wait until my sales associate arrives at 2:00. And I’ll decide then whether I want to press charges.”
“Not a problem.” A relief, actually, since Mitch was likely to calm down if he took a few hours to think about it. “I’ll get this young man’s statement once his guardian comes in, and talk to you later, and we’ll figure things out. Meanwhile—” he turned to Rocky “—do you have anything you want to say?” Hopefully, Rocky knew how to apologize. The kid had decent manners overall, so Liam suspected that he did.
Rocky stood and walked toward the door of the shop. When he passed the counter where Mitch stood, he said “sorry” in a sulky tone.
Not good enough, but Liam could identify with the kid well enough not to push it.
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe that.”
“Come on,” Liam said, and held the door open, putting a hand on Rocky’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t take off.
They drove to the station in silence. Liam resisted the urge to lecture the boy, because he could tell from his expression that Rocky was about to lose it. Nothing more humiliating than crying in front of a man you didn’t know well.
He got Rocky into a holding room—the only holding room—with Willa Jean watching him. Then he called Yasmin.
“Hey, problem,” he said as soon she answered. “Rocky got in some trouble. Can you come down to the station?”
“Is he okay?”
That quick question told Liam how Yasmin felt about Rocky: motherly. She was more concerned about his well-being than about her own undoubtedly busy schedule.
“He’s fine. A little upset. I’ll need to release him into your custody or keep him here, but I’d rather—”
“I’ll be right there,” she interrupted.
That was Yasmin, and Liam’s heart seemed to warm and reach toward her, which really wasn’t good. She had dumped him once, and she wasn’t giving him any sense now that they could have any kind of relationship. He didn’t need to be falling for her again.
Didn’t need to be thinking about kissing her again.
He went into the holding room and told Willa Jean she could go back to her desk. Then he sat across the table from Rocky. He wanted to talk to him, to treat him like a kid he cared about rather than a criminal, but he had to follow protocol.
Besides, some uncomfortable silence might make Rocky think. He filled out a couple of forms on his tablet, listened to the buzz of Safe Haven’s downtown outside the barred window and watched Rocky from the corner of his eye.
The boy kept licking his lips and looking around the barren, beige-painted room. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Cleared his throat a couple of times.
Hmm. Trying not to cry. And Liam was glad that Rocky took the consequences of his infraction seriously. He’d seen kids slide down in that very same chair and fall asleep, waiting for a parent or guardian to come bail them out of trouble.
A few minutes later there was a tap on the door. Willa Jean. “Ms. Tanner is here.”
“Send her in.”
Yasmin burst through the door and marched over to Rocky. “Just exactly what do you think you’re doing?”
“Hold on,” Liam said. “I need to advise him of his rights.” He did and was glad to see that Rocky was even more sobered by the official words.
As soon as he was done, Yasmin started in. “And again, I’d like to know what you thought you were going to accomplish.”
“I...” Rocky shrugged his shoulders and put his head down on the desk.
“Oh no you don’t.” Yasmin lifted him up by the back of his shirt. “You sit up straight when I’m talking to you,” she said. “This is unacceptable.” Her voice was strong and stern, her stance dramatic, but Liam could see the tension in the lines bracketing her mouth. She was posturing to Rocky, but inside, she was upset.
Liam was, too. He’d thought they were making progress with the boy. “You know that stealing is a crime, right?” he asked Rocky.
“No duh,” Rocky said. He was obviously going for nonchalance, but the anxiety in his brown eyes belied that effort.
Well, good. The kid needed to be scared. “Your mom isn’t here. Yasmin isn’t your legal guardian. If you don’t stay under the radar, you could end up in juvenile custody so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you.”
“No way.” Rocky’s head snapped toward Liam. “I ain’t going to juvie. My mom couldn’t find me there.”
“It would be a lot harder,” Liam agreed. “Not to mention a miserable experience with some of the toughest, meanest kids you’ve ever met. So what were you thinking, shoplifting from a store? That’s not exactly keeping a low profile.”
“It was just a couple of shirts,” Rocky mumbled. “I didn’t know the guy would see me.”
“You probably didn’t know he had a gun, either, or that he’s quick to pull it out.”
Rocky stared at the floor.
A thought flashed into Liam’s mind, something Cash had said: something about how, if you love your work and do something important, it doesn’t matter whether you’re at the top. Well, Liam wasn’t at the top in this police department, might not ever be. But he was maybe the only adult in town who could really understand what Rocky was going through. He’d spent a few uncomfortable hours in this police station, in this very holding room, when he’d been a rebellious teenager.
Yasmin sat down across from Rocky, reached out and grasped his hand. “What were you doing, anyway, stealing clothes from that pretentious store?”
“They were for school,” Rocky mumbled, staring down at the table.
“For school?” Yasmin stared at Rocky, then glanced over at Liam. “You tried to steal stuff from Mitchell’s Men’s Shop to go to middle school?”
“I saw how nice those kids were dressed,” Rocky said.
“What kids?” Yasmin tilted her head to one side, her expression puzzled.
Rocky sighed. “The ones I played basketball with.”
“Oh.” Yasmin looked over at Liam, understanding crossing her face. “I had him stay with Claire’s nephews when I took my mom back to Charleston,” she said. Then she turned back to Rocky. “Honey, those boys go to private school up North, so they wear uniforms. Even on their off days, they dress up. But nobody at the public schools down here dresses like they do.”
“Dustin said the town kids make fun of how the country kids dress.” Rocky’s voice was defensive. “I didn’t want people thinking I was a country kid.”
Again, Liam could identify. Starting out in a new town, you wanted above all to fit in. To blend in, so that people didn’t see you as an easy mark. If Rocky had thought he didn’t have the right clothes, of course he’d try to rectify the situation. And undoubtedly, his pride wouldn’t allow him to simply ask Yasmin or Liam for help. “Look,” he said to the boy, “I can take you out to buy a few shirts and pairs of jeans before school starts.”
“We’re both glad to help you,” Yasmin added, glancing at Liam. “You don’t have to steal. Not ever.”
An unspoken message arced between them. They’d make sure Rocky had the right clothes and backpack, whatever else he needed to make his days at Safe Haven Middle School go smoothly.
Liam had an odd sense of fate. If any two people in Safe Haven knew what it was to struggle to fit in at school, it was Liam and Yasmin. For them, it hadn’t been about clothes, but the feelings were the same. They could both identify with Rocky, and moreover, identifying with Rocky, helping him, was bringing them closer together.
But he couldn’t focus on that, on the appeal of it, because it was all too temporary. “We need to talk about how to handle the fact that Rocky’s mom hasn’t shown up yet,” he said to Yasmin. “Maybe get some official paperwork started.”
“She’s coming to get me!” Rocky leaned forward, his voice suddenly intense. “I know she’s coming to get me any day now.”
“Have you had any contact with her?” Liam posed the question sharply and then watched Rocky for signs of lying.
Rocky’s face fell and he shook his head. “Not since that letter. But I know she’s coming back soon.”
He glanced at Yasmin to find her looking at him. Once again, they communicated silently. They would work on making Yasmin his official guardian, just in case.
“In the meantime,” Liam said, “we need to come up with a plan of restitution. You stole from Mitch’s shop. How are you going to make that up to him?”
“I gave the stuff back,” Rocky said.
“That’s fine, but you still need to do something to apologize.” Rocky’s mouth opened like he was going to argue, and Liam held up a hand. “If you get this right, you may be able to avoid having him press charges. And that could mean you avoid the foster care system or even juvie. It’s important.”
“Could he do some work in the stockroom at the store?” Yasmin was frowning. “He could learn a little bit about what retail is like.”
Liam looked at Rocky. Then, they both shook their heads at the same time. “I don’t think Mitch is going to want help from Rocky,” Liam said. “Nor that he’ll be a willing mentor.”
“He’ll be holding a gun on me the whole time,” Rocky said.
“Holding a gun on a child.” Yasmin looked in the direction of Mitch’s store, a murderous expression on her face.
“I talked to him some about it,” Liam said, “and I’ll talk some more. A gun and a temper like his don’t go together. He has to get it under control.”
“Good.” Yasmin sighed. “Probably better for you to talk to him than for me to try. I don’t think I could stay all cool and collected.” She rubbed a hand on Rocky’s forearm. “He better not try anything like that again.”
Rocky’s eyebrows scrunched together as he studied Yasmin. Liam had to wonder whether his own mother stood up for him so staunchly. It seemed to be a surprise to the boy.
“But all that aside, we have to find a way for you to apologize. What about doing some weeding and trimming outside his store?” Yasmin looked at Rocky. “That way, you wouldn’t have to be inside the store, and I know he likes the place to look immaculate.”
“Or maybe hosing down the sidewalk and scrubbing it,” Liam suggested.
“I don’t know how to do any of that!” Rocky’s fists clenched. “I gave the shirts back! Why do I have to do more?”
“It’s a punishment, son,” Liam said.
“To make you remember not to do anything like this again,” Yasmin added.
They looked at each other, and there it was again: they were parenting Rocky together. At least for right now.
“I’ll release him to your custody,” Liam said, and they went out front to complete the forms, Rocky trailing behind and flopping into a metal chair. But suddenly, the door to the station burst open. Mitch marched in. “I got help at the store so I could see to this personally,” he said. “I want full charges pressed against this young man. Apparently no one in town knows him. He’s a drifter.”
“He’s thirteen, Mitch.” Yasmin had stood and was facing Mitch while Liam kept Rocky quelled in a seat beside Willa Jean’s desk. “You can’t be a drifter at thirteen. He’s staying with me for a little while. He’s a friend of my family.”
“Your family.” Mitch rolled his eyes as if that was a condemnation in itself.
“That’s right.” A flash of pain crossed Yasmin’s face and was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Liam frowned. He’d always thought of Yasmin’s family as upper crust, and they were definitely wealthy. Or they had been. And maybe they were a little eccentric, but he’d always thought they were respected in town.
Mitch spun on Liam. “I want to press charges against the boy.”
Liam pulled out a chair. “Sit down, Mitch. Let’s talk this over, and then I’ll take a statement from you.”
“Oh, you... Of course you’d want to do that. Always with the compromises. You’re from the same low-life background yourself.”
Liam’s heart rate shot up and his fists clenched. He relaxed them and drew in a breath, exhaled. “Yes, I am. A lot of decent Safe Haven citizens cut me a break. That’s why I’m on the right side of the law today.”
Rocky stood, and both Liam and Yasmin moved to block his path of exit. But the boy squared his shoulders and faced Mitch. “I’m sorry for what I did,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I could... I could do some gardening work for you outside your store. Or wash the windows and sidewalk. To make it up to you.”
Pride washed over Liam, and when he looked at Yasmin, she was nodding. “Good job, son,” she said.
“You’re not going to get yourself off the hook by pulling a few weeds,” Mitch said. “I’m still going to press charges. I want this kid locked away. How do I start the paperwork?”
“You don’t really want to do this, Mitch,” Liam said.
“I sure do.”
Yasmin crossed her arms over her chest, sparks seeming to shoot from her eyes. “That’s gonna make a good story out at the club,” she said. “Wealthy business owner refuses to accept apology from struggling teenager, presses charges for petty theft.”
Mitch spun to face her. “You wouldn’t dare sully my reputation.”
“I’d be telling the simple truth. If it hurts, well...there’s still time to change your attitude.”
“You think I should accept having criminal activity against my store.”
“I’m thinking you need a sense of perspective,” she said. “Did you ever make a mistake? Have you ever been forgiven? Saved by a little bit of grace?”
Mitch looked from her, to Rocky, to Liam. All of them stood united against him. “I’m still going to think about this,” he said, his voice as sulky as Rocky’s had been earlier. “Speak to my attorney.”
“That’s your right,” Liam said. “If you decide to press charges, you just give us a call.”
“And meanwhile, he goes free?”
“With supervision,” Yasmin said. “If you’re not enthusiastic about his helping you out at the store, I’m sure the police station has some landscaping work that it needs done.”
“A lot,” Liam said. “But Mitch has first dibs on the boy’s time.”
Mitch glared. “I want nothing more to do with that child,” he said, and spun toward the door. Just before going through it, he turned and glared at Liam. “Don’t think I’ll forget this when the time comes to make a decision for police chief. I have the feeling Buck Mulligan would have handled it very differently.”
At which point Liam remembered: Mitch was on city council.
And he’d just become an enemy.
RITA FOLLOWED NORMA into the summer madness party at Seaside Villages, face set in a frown.
She’d fought Norma on this one. She didn’t like raucous events focused on drinking—which just went to show that she was getting old—and plus, it was way too hot. August in South Carolina was worlds away, hot worlds away, from summers in Maine. The little shopping area was thirty-five miles from Safe Haven, in a more touristy type of town, and Rita didn’t see why they needed to come all the way out here when there were plenty of perfectly nice bars and restaurants in Safe Haven.
And besides, Norma couldn’t stop bugging her about how she needed to make more progress on figuring out her past and how she needed to approach the men she suspected were her sons. She’d chickened out with Liam and she felt bad enough about that already. A whole evening of listening to why she was wrong, wrong, wrong didn’t sound like a lot of fun.
But as soon as they went under the archway and inside the little complex of stores and restaurants, her spirits lifted a little. The sun was sinking lower into the sky, which meant the heat was letting up a little. A band played country music, but a peppy, modern kind Rita didn’t mind.
Besides, Rita had made a plan to put Norma in her place but good, a plan to give her something to focus on aside from Rita and her issues. A plan involving a man. She couldn’t wait until he showed up.
They strolled through a couple of shops that were open late, looking at the standard-issue beach art and jasmine-scented candles. Then, they came to a bohemian type of store that had all kinds of repurposed junk, the creations of local artists. The music of dozens of wind chimes set the mood for the outdoor part of the shop, while inside, incense and batik cloths and a display of brightly colored pillows and clothing created a hippie vibe that took Rita back.
Took her back, and she had the edges of a memory. But she wasn’t going to try to dredge it up; she was just going to enjoy the fun, funky atmosphere. She even bought a hammered metal sun to put up on her apartment’s little balcony.
In the big open area in front of the bandstand, long picnic tables encouraged everyone to mingle. Lights were strung up on poles, and people were laughing, talking and even dancing. All ages, little kids through seniors, so it wasn’t actually just a bunch of wild drunks as she’d expected.
“That food smells pretty good,” Norma said. “I’m going up to find me some deep-fried onions or a funnel cake before this evening is over.”
“Smells to me like they roasted a pig. That’s what I’m after.” Rita put her hands on her hips and surveyed the food trucks in booths. “Wouldn’t mind a drink, either.”
“I imagine it’s nice for you to be waited on instead of being the waitress.” Norma gestured toward a table. “Sit down, save that spot and I’ll get us some food.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Rita found a seat at the end of a long table and sat so she was facing the sunset. The sky glowed pink and orange and gold, carrying her thoughts toward the heavens.
Maybe God had brought her back to Safe Haven, and her boys, too, so they could set things right between them. Rita didn’t consider herself a good Christian, nor did she think that God rearranged people’s daily lives as if He were playing a big game of chess from His seat in the sky.
Still, enough about the weird way she’d encountered the three men just when she learned she’d had three boys made her sense the movement of a force greater than herself.
Yes, she was glad the diner was closed on Mondays, and she was glad Norma had dragged her here. Maybe she could stop thinking about her sons, or possible sons, and about Jimmy, for a little while, just kick back with her friend and relax.
Norma showed up with two plates in hand, followed by a twentysomething guy who was carrying the drinks for her.
Norma put the plates down, then turned to the boy, took the drinks and handed him a bill from her pocket. “Thanks, son, I couldn’t have managed that without you.” She gave him her million-megawatt smile, and Rita watched him melt from the force of it.
No sooner had Rita put a big bite of pulled pork into her mouth than Norma finished crunching her own onion ring and looked at Rita, eyebrows raised. “So? Did you talk to Liam yet?”
So much for getting away from her worries for the evening. “I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“Hmm, still avoidant.” Norma pretended to be scribbling on a psychiatrist’s notepad.
“You’re annoying, you know?” Rita heard a text come in, pulled out her phone and smiled. Her plan was working.
“Is Jimmy coming?”
Rita nodded. “He says so.” Not that that was what she had been texting about. She felt a tiny smile curve her mouth. Norma was about to get her comeuppance.
“So how’s it going with Jimmy?” Norma asked as she picked through the basket of fried veggies. “You don’t sound thrilled about him coming here tonight.”
She shrugged. “He’s not at the top of my priority list right now. I gotta get my other stuff figured out.”
Norma shook her head. “Same old thing you’ve been saying ever since I came and visited in the spring,” she said. “Haven’t you learned that you have to be who you are and open yourself to love in this world?”
Rita lifted an eyebrow at Norma. “Pot, meet kettle. You’re the queen of keeping yourself closed off and pushing love away.”
“Completely different situation.” She looked pointedly at Rita’s hands, and Rita realized she was ripping up a napkin into tiny shreds rather than enjoying her meal.
And she didn’t want to talk about why she was fidgeting, so she focused on the happy environment around her. Someone was pouring something from a container into a bowl for his dog to drink—hopefully, water and not beer. On the ground beneath the table, little brown birds fought over crumbs with a kee-WEE sound.
She saw a familiar face, and before she could duck her head to avoid eye contact, Buck Mulligan came over, in civilian clothes, a woman with short blond hair beside him. “Hey, ladies,” he said with his lazy smile. “Looks like I’m not the only person who felt the urge to get away from Safe Haven tonight.”
“Pull up a chair,” Norma invited, gesturing to the table beside them.
Rita restrained an impulse to kick her friend and then wondered why she felt so uncharitable. It was rare for her to take such a dislike to someone, and unfair. She didn’t know Buck well enough to have formed a bad opinion of him.
“Lorraine, I’d like to introduce two of the coolest older ladies in Safe Haven,” Buck said, with his trademark suave smile.
Rita glanced over at Norma, who looked amused. “Why, Buck, thank you for the compliment,” she said. “Or wait, was it a compliment?”
Lorraine flopped down onto a bench beside Norma. “One of those backhanded ones,” she said. “He’s good at those.”
Buck looked confused. “You guys are cool.”
“And older. We know.” Norma winked at Lorraine. “How ’bout you go buy a couple of cool older ladies another drink?”
Rita held up a hand. “One’s my limit,” she said. “I’m moving to lemonade.”
“Buck looks to me like the kind of guy who doesn’t mind standing in two different lines.” Norma smiled at him.
He stood. “No, I don’t mind.” When Rita dug in her purse for money, he waved a hand. “It’s on me.”
“Thank you.”
The three of them watched Buck walk briskly toward the refreshment stands. “Good-looking guy,” Rita offered, trying to look at the bright side of him.
“How long have you been seeing him, honey?” Norma looked over at Lorraine.
“Oh! I’m not... We’re not really seeing each other.” Lorraine looked uneasy. “I’m visiting from out of town. Old friend.”
“How well do you know him?” Rita was genuinely curious. Buck had come into the diner with any number of attractive women, to the point where it seemed like there wasn’t a pretty, age-appropriate female in the county he hadn’t dated. And he seemed willing to stretch the age-appropriate thing, too.
Lorraine yawned. “Man, I’m tired.” She didn’t answer Rita’s question, which, admittedly, had been nosy.
“It’s just that he has a bit of a reputation,” Rita said. “Which could be totally undeserved.”
Lorraine shrugged and looked away. “Like I said, we’re not dating. And I’m not from around here.”
Rita hadn’t been born yesterday. She could tell the younger woman was hiding something. Maybe there was a reason she and Buck weren’t supposed to be together, like that Lorraine had a husband or boyfriend already. She wouldn’t put it past Buck to horn in on another man’s woman.
Buck came back, handed drinks around and then sat down beside Lorraine, who shifted a little away from him.
Weird. Rita stole a glance at Norma and could tell that her friend was thinking the same thing.
“So when is Jimmy coming?” Norma asked when the silence got awkward.
“I don’t know. He might not even show.” As she said it, Rita’s stomach jittered and jumped. She’d strung Jimmy along too long. He was a good man, and he wouldn’t wait for her to figure out her life forever. He’d already been more than patient.
“Ladies.” The deep voice above had a clipped Northern accent.
“Hey!” Rita couldn’t believe her plan had worked. “Norma, look, it’s your neighbor! Won’t you sit and join us?”
He hesitated, then gingerly sat down next to Rita. He looked across the table. “I got your note,” he said to Norma.
“What no—” Norma broke off as Rita kicked her ankle. “What’s your problem?” she asked Rita.
“It’s so nice that you’re here experiencing the best our region has to offer,” Rita babbled to the Silver Fox, ignoring Norma. “I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Rita Tomlinson.”
“Stephen Brown.” He extended a cautious hand, as if worried Rita carried a contagious disease.
“And this is Norma, and Buck, and Lorraine,” Rita enthused. “Guys, Stephen lives at the same condo complex as Norma does. How long have you lived there?”
Buck’s sociability turned out to be an asset; he talked amiably about the town and regional sports teams and fishing hot spots. Lorraine looked at her phone and ignored them all. Norma crossed her arms over her chest and watched the flow of conversation, refusing to participate, even when Stephen glanced at her with a puzzled expression.
Rita was just leaning in, trying to draw the man out, when she smelled the faint, masculine scent of Jimmy’s aftershave. She turned to see him standing above her. “You came!” She reached for his hand.
He squeezed hers briefly and then pulled his hand away. He sat down a good three feet away from her. Cold.
Stephen left to get a drink. As soon as he was out of earshot, Norma lifted her hands, palms up. “What was that all about? He acted like he didn’t want to be here. So why did he come?”
Time to confess. “I might have kind of left him a note and signed your name,” Rita said in a rush.
“You what?”
“I knew the two of you wouldn’t get together if left to your own devices, and I thought he seemed...interesting.” Actually, he’d seemed like one of those tough-nut-to-crack kind of guys, but Norma was the same way. Perfect.
“Now he’s going to think I like him, when in fact, I think he’s an uptight old man. Besides, he’s all good-looking and then there’s me.”
“You’re pretty,” Buck, Lorraine, Rita and Jimmy said simultaneously.
Norma flushed and glanced down at herself, and Rita knew exactly what she was thinking. Her double mastectomy had made her feel permanently flawed and unwomanly. She’d tried for reconstructive surgery, but complications had made it impossible.
It was hard to get past those negative voices in your head, even if you were a therapist accustomed to helping other people get over their hang-ups.
“You gotta be open to love,” Rita urged her friend.
“You seem plenty open to that guy,” Jimmy said to Rita. His voice had an edge to it, one she’d never heard before.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “You accusing me of something?” She frowned at him. That sense of possessiveness struck something deep and painful inside her. She didn’t even know what it was. It was lost in the amnesia years.
“I have no claim on you,” Jimmy said. “You’ve made that real clear. But that doesn’t mean I want to sit around and watch you flirt with someone else.” He stood. “Later, folks.” Then he walked away, back straight, shoulders squared.
Rita stared after him, her chest tight. “The nerve of him.”
Norma and Lorraine didn’t look sympathetic, and Buck was just staring off into space.
“Maybe you’re just trying to avoid getting involved,” Norma said. “Maybe you’re scared.”
“Like you know it all,” Rita snapped, and then felt bad. “Sorry. I just... I don’t know. I guess it’s time to go home.”
“Maybe what I said rang true,” Norma said. “Seems to me you need to take a look at yourself before you go trying to fix up other people.”
Rita sighed, looking off in the direction Jimmy had gone. “You could be right.”