Romeo Fails (2 page)

Maggie bubbled on. “She’s not sure how long she’ll stay, but it might be for the whole summer! Isn’t that fantastic?”

No, Dorsey thought mulishly, but nodding and smiling neutrally for Maggie’s benefit. Not fantastic at all. She realized it was a little silly at twenty-six to be experiencing the emotions of a six-year-old, but darn it, she was not looking forward to sharing her one and only best friend’s attention with a stranger this summer. Her life in Romeo Falls was bleak enough already—without Maggie, she’d be lost. Maggie’s college years had been torture for Dorsey. She was so glad to have her best friend back now, even if it seemed like a waste for an MBA to be teaching math to a bunch of teenagers. In this town, for the most part, the only number they cared about was the 4 in 4-H. But Maggie enjoyed teaching.

The short list of things that currently brought joy to Dorsey’s life included her friendship with Maggie, swimming at the community center pool and her hobby of restoring vintage furniture. She guessed she should include her job and her family, which were basically one and the same. And that was basically it for the List of Good Things. Her occasional freelance carpentry jobs brought in a little extra money, but let’s face it, she sighed—she was stuck in Romeo Falls. Stuck in a dead-end job, stuck living in the same house with her brothers where they’d all three grown up, stuck in a boring life with absolutely zero romance. Just… stuck.

Further conversation was put on hold as another customer came through the door. Old Mr. Gustafson, an elderly but still hale and hearty farmer was in the market for a new hacksaw. A steady trickle of shoppers was the norm on Saturdays. The hardware store did a pretty good business, being the only establishment of its kind in town. But a recently opened “big box” home center store in the nearest metropolis—Grover City with some fifteen thousand souls sixty miles to the east—was her older brother Goodman’s latest headache. He’d already noticed a trend of Romeo Falls residents buying their big ticket power tool purchases in Grover instead of at Larue’s Swingtime Hardware. Short of slashing his prices to the point where he’d take a loss, he had not yet figured out a solution.

Having accepted the economic realities of her hometown at a young age, Dorsey was a reluctant but resigned employee of the family business. What else could she do? She certainly wasn’t a farmer. College hadn’t beckoned as she wasn’t much of a student either. And she couldn’t imagine working at the supermarket or the Sizzle’N’Shake. The hardware store, although far from her dream job, was at least comfortable and familiar. It was home, maybe even more so than the house.

The bell jangled again as she finished up with old Mr. Gustafson at the register. He was blocking her view of the front door, but hearing Maggie greet the newcomer, she assumed it was the cousin. Sarah. Their voices moved off down the paint aisle.

With a twinkle in his eye, Mr. Gustafson said in a tone of kindly reproach, “Such a pretty girl like you should be wearing a dress, Dorsey Lee.”

She knew the old man, who had been a friend of her grandfather’s, meant no offense. He told her she should be wearing a dress almost every time he saw her, despite the fact that the last time she’d worn one was in the third grade. The kids who had teased her so unmercifully in kindergarten for being a tomboy had teased her even more when she wore a dress, she’d found. And then moved on to tape “lezzy” signs to her high school locker. Their homophobia was less overt these days, but it was still no fun being the town pariah. But what else was new? She’d always been an outsider in Romeo Falls.

“Maybe next time, Mr. Gustafson,” she told him with a smile, her standard reply. She thanked him for his purchase and shook his hand. Small-town business was all about the relationships, Goodman was always telling her and Shaw. So she smiled and smiled, asked about their families and thanked them for their business.

With not too bitter a heart, she hoped.

Maggie and her mystery companion were still lost in the depths of aisle six. The bell jangled as Mr. Gustafson departed, then Maggie called out, “Hey, Dorse? Can you help us out with this paint? I think we might want some blue too, maybe.”

“Sure,” Dorsey called back. She walked toward the front door and turned the corner into Paint.

Where she froze, her heart in her throat and all the air suddenly gone from her lungs. For there—in aisle six of Larue’s Swingtime Hardware, holding a can of red spray paint and talking with Dorsey’s best friend—was the Naked Silver Lake Goddess.

Chapter Two

Not naked, of course. In fact, she was attractively attired in a well-worn, close-fitting pair of jeans, black V-neck T-shirt and a stylish hip length black leather jacket of supple lambskin. It had been a cool spring thus far, but the summer heat was just around the corner according to the
Farmer’s Almanac
. And the Weather Channel. Seeing Sarah’s casual but chic outfit, Dorsey was suddenly keenly aware of her own fashion choices, or lack thereof. Oh, well. Nothing she could do about it now.

Maggie came forward, looking perplexed at Dorsey’s pole-axed reaction.

“Come on,” she said, laughing and grabbing her best friend’s arm to snap her out of her trance. “I want you two to finally meet.”

As she performed the introductions, Dorsey stole another look at Sarah’s face. Yep, no doubt about it—she was definitely the girl from that night by the lake last summer. Their meeting had been all too short, but certainly memorable. Every moment of it, in fact, was etched in Dorsey’s brain.

“Nice to meet you,” Dorsey said, briefly clasping Sarah’s cool hand.

“Likewise,” was the reply.

The city girl’s smile was cool and impersonal too. She gave no sign that she recognized Dorsey who felt a hot flush of embarrassment and chagrin starting at the base of her neck. Should she say something? Or just forget about it—Sarah obviously had. And to think of all the times Dorsey had dreamed of the Goddess since that night. She had replayed their time together over and over in her mind. Thought of her touch, of touching her. Of what might have been…

Things clearly were not going the way Maggie had envisioned. Puzzled by their stilted exchange, she said to them, “Well, you two chat for a moment, okay? I’m just going to run to the little girls’ room.”

Setting her basket down, she hurried off to the tiny restroom by the office in the back of the store. Dorsey’s brother had declared it off limits to customers, but Maggie was practically family. And besides, Good wasn’t there at the moment. The silence was getting awkward, Dorsey felt. Say something! she ordered herself. And of course could not think of a single thing to say. Sarah still held a can of spray paint in her hand. Her slender, pale fingers wore no rings, Dorsey noticed.

“Did you have a question about the paint?” Dorsey finally asked her, deciding on the professional approach. She could play it cool too and hide behind the facade of customer service.

Sarah glanced blankly at the can in her hand. Her dorky spectacles were long gone, along with the gawky child she no longer resembled. She now wore a small fashionable pair of thin black frames with clear rectangular lenses. Cute, Dorsey thought, then caught herself. Don’t go there, she warned herself—she doesn’t even remember you. But she couldn’t keep from automatically registering a few aspects of the other woman’s appearance—the same things she’d found so compelling at the festival: the cute glasses, that promising gleam in the eye, the soft black hair in a delicately spiky cut and the deceptively slim body beneath the jeans and jacket. Not the type of face you’d see on a magazine cover, maybe, but an attractive, intelligent face nonetheless. A nice face.

My type of face, Dorsey thought with an inner sigh. And what a body…

Sarah’s eyes met hers for a moment, then flicked back to the can of paint in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, the paint,” she said, her voice low and a little husky, just like Dorsey had remembered it. She felt the tiniest jolt in her stomach at the alluring sound of that voice. Sarah hesitated, darting a glance over Dorsey’s shoulder where Maggie had gone. “Oh, hell,” she said suddenly and decisively, startling Dorsey.

“What?”

“Are we alone?” Sarah asked in an undertone.

“Well, yeah, until Maggie comes back.”

“Look,” Sarah said, then paused, staring deep into Dorsey’s eyes, seemingly trying to gauge her reaction. She then went on in a rush, her words tumbling out. “I’m sorry. I owe you an apology. And a shirt too, I guess.”

Dorsey felt a warm rush deep in the heart of her.
She remembers! She remembers!
She couldn’t help but smile at Sarah, eliciting a small smile back.

“I still have yours,” Dorsey told her. Not adding that she’d been sleeping in the soft festival tank top ever since that night. Sleeping… and dreaming.

“Look,” Sarah said again, speaking rapidly and urgently while taking a step closer. To Dorsey’s delight, she reached out to touch her bare arm. “I’m really sorry about that night and about just now, but I’m not out to Maggie or anyone else in the family here. Do you understand?”

Sarah’s face was tilted up to look imploringly in Dorsey’s eyes. The soft black leather of her coat brushed Dorsey’s hip. Her hair smelled faintly of apples.

“Oh,” was all Dorsey could say, finding herself dazzled by Sarah’s sudden closeness, as well as somewhat nonplussed by her confession. Especially since Dorsey had been out to Maggie and everybody else since, well, since forever. And Maggie had always been the best friend a girl could ever wish for.

But everyone’s situation was different. Dorsey understood that. Who knew what Sarah had been through, that forced her to keep her very identity secret and separate from her own family?

Maggie was bustling back down the aisle toward them, the grin on her face showing how thrilled she was to see them in close conversation. Sarah shot Dorsey a meaningful and entreating look, eyes wide behind her glasses, then took a step back.

“I get it,” Dorsey said quietly to her in an undertone. “But… can we talk later?”

Sarah nodded gratefully. As Maggie rejoined them, Dorsey resumed the paint conversation, acting as if nothing of import had passed between her and Sarah, although she felt like a dog to be playacting in front of Maggie. The three of them walked slowly up to the cash register, chatting about nothing much.

“You’ll come to brunch with Mother and us tomorrow, right?” Maggie said to Dorsey as she rang up the purchase. A meal with Mrs. Bigelow senior was not normally much of a draw for Dorsey. Sarah, who obviously knew her aunt well, took in Dorsey’s reluctant expression with an arched eyebrow and a small smile.

Maggie said, “Come on, Dorse, I promise you Mother Bigelow will be on her best behavior. Especially with Sarah here.”

Sarah suddenly grinned at Dorsey, which brought back that jolt in the stomach feeling and sealed the deal. Maybe with the three of them outnumbering the old bat, it would be a fair fight for once. Mrs. Bigelow disapproved of Dorsey’s “lifestyle” (as the older woman put it), was a general pain in the ass and had done many subtle and not-so-subtle sly things over the years to try and break up the friendship between her daughter and Dorsey, or at least put some distance between them. All her efforts had been futile so far, but she hadn’t given up yet. Vivian Bigelow was no quitter.

“All right,” Dorsey acquiesced with a shrug and a grin. “Eleven o’clock at the café?”

“Right,” Maggie said. “Right after church. Unless you want to join us?” She should have known from long experience that Dorsey’s answer would always be no, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking anyhow.

“I’ll meet you at the restaurant,” was Dorsey’s reply. From Sarah’s look, she would have preferred that too, but there was no way Mother Bigelow would let her skip church, not with Sarah staying under her roof. Maggie had moved back in with her parent after her divorce from Dwayne Bergstrom the past year. There were no apartments in Romeo Falls and without the money to buy a house of her own, her options were limited. She had been saving her money steadily, but was still a long way from a down payment. She’d been talking about renting a mobile home in the trailer park just to get out from under her mother’s bossy thumb, but was too scared to break it to her, Dorsey thought. The old battle-ax would probably throw a fit when she heard.

Gathering up her purchases, Maggie said, “Well, we’re off to Grover for dinner with Cousin Buell and his family. Since this is Sarah’s first visit here, we’re making the rounds. But we’ll see you tomorrow, right, Dorse?”

Dorsey nodded, taking a seat on the stool behind the counter. To her surprise, Sarah then leaned across and took her hand.

“It was a real pleasure meeting you for the first time, Dorsey,” she said, the pressure of her fingers and the laugh in her eyes leaving no doubt as to exactly what she meant. A tingle ran right up Dorsey’s arm at her touch.

“Yeah, me too,” she finally managed to say, finding herself momentarily tongue-tied in the face of Sarah’s double entendre and Maggie’s cheerful round visage innocently beaming at them both. They waved as they went out the front door.

Oh, no, Dorsey thought as they left. This was not good. For one thing, she was a terrible liar, so she always told the truth. The truth was just so much easier to keep track of. On the other hand, it had gotten her into a lot of trouble over the years. People are much more comfortable with their facts liberally sugar-coated, she’d found. She’d decided at an early age that she’d rather speak the truth or be silent. Which didn’t leave her with much to say in Romeo Falls. But even if she did want to fib, she could never lie to Maggie—when you’ve sold Girl Scout cookies door-to-door together, presided over the marriage of your GI Joe and Barbie dolls countless times and mutually suffered through puberty, high school and small-town melodrama for twenty years, there’s just no room for deception. And she didn’t
want
to deceive Maggie. But this wasn’t her secret to tell…

All of a sudden, her summer was looking a lot more complicated.

* * *