The Comeback Girl (13 page)

Their gazes met. And held. He lowered his head. Their lips met. Frank. Curious. Friendly.

Kris closed her eyes and let the sensation envelop her.

Oh, my, yes. The spark was definitely there.

D
ONNIE HAD TRIED
every tactic possible during the past four days, including begging, but Kristin flatly refused to attend the Friday-afternoon engagement party of his co-worker Cory Brandell.

“The moment belongs to the young couple,” she’d insisted a few minutes earlier on the phone. “They’re doing this the right way for the right reason. I don’t think we should detract from their celebration with our news.”

Her refusal had irked him, even though he understood what she meant. “I wasn’t going to blurt out an announcement,” he replied. “I just wanted to introduce you to my friends.”

“Most of those people know me, Donnie. I’m the infamous triplet—the one who caused a scandal then left town, returning years later with an illegitimate child. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you my life story.”

She had a point, but he was like a kid with a secret. He couldn’t wait to tell somebody. “Kristin Sullivan is going to marry me,” he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs in the center of town.

“Hey, Donnie,” Margie called as he entered the common room. “Nice flowers,” she said, nodding at the bouquet Kristin had insisted he take to the bride-to-be.

“Hi, Margie. Where’s the lady of the hour? I want to get rid of these.”

“Cory and the future Mrs. Cory are in with Magnus. What have you been up to all week? I’d like
to say you look rested, but, frankly, you look like hell.”

He chuckled. “Tell me what you really think, Margie.”

She gave him one of her looks—one that said the bull stops here.

Donnie used his free hand to pull a square envelope from his jacket pocket. Kristin had maintained that it was too short notice to issue invitations to a wedding that would take place in two days, but Donnie had prevailed. “Ten invitations. Simple. Private. Your sisters and their husbands, Ida Jane and a few close friends.”

Jenny had solved the dilemma by purchasing a dozen small watercolor prints, on the backs of which she’d written the date and time. “This way even if they can’t come, they’ll have something to remember it by,” she’d explained when she presented them to him. He’d been touched.

Donnie slipped the envelope into Margie’s in-tray. “I have been a little busy. Courting.”

Margie gaped at him. “What?”

“That’s an invitation to my wedding, but you have to keep it to yourself.”

“It’s a secret?” she said in a hushed voice that made every head in the room turn her way.

He tapped her on the shoulder with his bouquet. “No. But this is Cory’s day, and I don’t want to steal his thunder.”
Not true, but he’d behave—for Kristin.

Margie carefully opened the cream-colored velum envelope and peeked inside. Her head popped up, mouth wide. Oh my God, she mouthed then jumped to her feet and hugged him fiercely. Donnie’s quick reflexes saved the flowers.

“What’s going on?” Bethany asked, joining them.

Donnie had an invitation for her, too, but he would wait until later to give it to her. “She misses me,” he said with his last bit of air.

Beth obviously didn’t buy his excuse, but her attention was diverted when the door to the sheriff’s private office opened and three people walked out—Magnus Brown, followed by a young couple holding hands.

“Hey, Donnie,” Cory hailed. “Glad you could make it. Come meet Meghan.”

Donnie crossed the room and presented his flowers.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” she exclaimed. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe you’re all being so nice to me when I’m taking Cory away from you.”

Donnie glanced at his boss, who nodded grimly. Cory was supposed to fill Donnie’s slot when he left. Donnie wasn’t concerned about that since he wasn’t going anywhere, but he’d been counting on Cory’s support during the election.

Magnus cornered Donnie a minute later. “You know what this means, Grimaldo? It means you re
think this silly air marshals thing. I’m going to need you. Your town needs you.”

This was not the time or place to announce his change in plans. “I’ve already been accepted, Magnus.”

“Well, too bad,” Magnus snapped. “Back when you first suggested this cockamamy idea I agreed to let you leave on a trial basis—in case it didn’t work out. But now that Brandell’s given notice, I’m going to have to hire someone to replace him. If you leave, I’m going to have to fill your slot, too.” He glared at Donnie. “I’ll need your answer by the end of next week.”

“You’ll have it,” Donnie replied.
But you won’t like it.
He watched while Cory and his bride-to-be cut and served the decorated cake from the Sweet Tooth Bakery. A fixture with the high-school crowd in his day, the shop had changed hands last year. The new owners—a Pakistani couple from San Jose—promptly remodeled eliminating the booths and tables to make room for their catering business. They were delivering a wedding cake to the bordello tomorrow afternoon.

He ate several bites without tasting anything as he made his way to Edgar Olson’s desk. After nudging aside a thick pile of folders, Donnie rested his hip on one corner. “So, how’s it going?” he asked, chasing a few crumbs around his plate with his plastic fork.

“Not bad. Heard you’ve been a busy beaver.”

Ed was in his late fifties. He wore cowboy boots with his uniform and sported a silver mustache that he kept meticulously trimmed. “I cleaned out my garage if that’s what you mean,” Donnie said nonchalantly.

Ed was a friend and had been a mentor to him since Donnie started with the department as a high-school trainee. Donnie knew him to be calm and unflappable, and there was no one he’d trust more in a dangerous situation.

“Yup, that’s what I meant,” Ed said with a wink. “Cleaned up some loose ends, too, as I heard it.”

Loose ends. Is that what this is all about?
Donnie knew it wasn’t that simple. He handed Ed an invitation. “If Edith’s feeling up to it, we’d love to see you both.” Ed’s wife—a seven-year breast cancer survivor—had learned last July that the disease had returned.

Ed removed the pretty sheet of paper and read the message then tucked it in his pocket. “I’m sure she’d like that, if she’s having a good day. You just never know.”

“We’re keeping it low-key for obvious reasons.”

“What obvious reasons?” Ed asked.

Donnie had to think a minute. Despite that one memorable kiss at the creek, he wasn’t ready to call this a love match. True, he loved Kristin, but he
had yet to hear those words from her lips. “Second marriages…”

Ed frowned. “Kristin hasn’t been married before.”

Donnie looked at his mangled piece of cake. True. She hadn’t. He dumped the cake in the trash. “I meant me. But you know about the circumstances with Tyler Harrison, and Kris…we decided to do this to solidify her position when she goes to court.”

Ed rocked back in his chair and crossed his arms. He was a small, wiry man with surprisingly fast reflexes and a keen mind. “So, this is a sort of marriage of convenience?”

Donnie was beginning to hate that phrase. “Sorta.”

“You don’t love her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You do love her.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

Ed’s mustache flickered. “Guess I’ll have to make up my own mind since you don’t seem to know.”

Donnie didn’t care for the hint of sarcasm in Ed’s tone. “I know what I’m doing and why, I just don’t feel it’s something I need to talk about.”

Ed sat forward, his expression serious. “Guess this means you didn’t get in?”

Ed was the only colleague who knew about Donnie’s application. He’d been listed as a reference.

“Actually, I did. But I turned it down.”

Ed rose and put a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. Eye-to-eye, he said, “Well, the FAM program is missing out on a terrific candidate, but I’ll sleep a lot easier knowing you’re on the job right here in Gold Creek.”

The band of tension across Donnie’s neck and shoulders loosened just a bit. “Thanks, Ed,” he said with a grin. “I appreciate that.”

Ed winked. “No problem. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Donnie watched him walk away. A man of few words. A good man. Donnie would have told him about the election, but Jonathan had asked him to keep mum until after the formal announcement.

“What’s up?” a voice asked.

Bethany. “Hey. Just the person I wanted to see. Would you walk me to my car, Miss Murdock? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, leading the way to the employees’ entrance.

“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “I gotta get back to school, anyway. They only let me out because Margie asked.” She dumped her empty cake plate and napkin in a receptacle near the outer door. “Good cake, huh?”

“Yep, good stuff. I’m getting my cake from them, too, when I get married.” He waited for her reaction.

She laughed. “Oh, yeah? When’s that—the next millennium?”

He paused beside the Forerunner. “Sunday, actually. Two o’clock at the old bordello. You’re invited.”

Her mouth dropped open so far he could see particles of cake. “No way,” she exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

He handed her the last of his invitations. “Very small. Very simple. I was hoping you’d come so Lucas and Zach aren’t the only young people there.”

“Zach?” She clawed open the envelope. “Zach Sullivan? That new seventh-grader my sister has a crush on?”

Donnie wasn’t surprised to learn Zach was a heartthrob. “That would be the one. His mother is my fiancée.”

Beth gave him a knowing look. “The pretty blonde who was here that day to get fingerprinted, right?”

He nodded. “Remember, I told you we were old friends. Actually, we were high-school sweethearts.” He held up his keys. “Need a ride?”

She didn’t hesitate. She trotted around the car.

As they turned on Main Street, she said, “Maybe marriage is contagious. First, Cory. Now, you.”

Donnie smiled. “A real epidemic.”

“No, I’m serious. You might want to get checked
out by the doctor before Sunday. What if you caught a bug?”

“Knock it off, Murdock. Kris and I are getting married because we want to. We should have done this years ago, but the timing was wrong.”

“And now it’s right?”

He pulled to a stop in front of the high school then said, “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.” She hopped out, waving her invitation. “See you Sunday.”

Sunday. Two days away. Talk about a rush job. The only thing missing is the shotgun.

Z
ACH PICKED HIS WAY
across a deep spot in the creek using providentially placed rocks. He figured he wasn’t the first kid to use this particular shortcut to the Highland Estates. That was the name of the development where Donnie Grimaldo’s house was.

His aunt Andi had told him a little bit of the history of Gold Creek while he’d raked the backyard of the old bordello, which was being spruced up for his mother’s wedding.

In a way, he couldn’t believe his mother was going through with it. Andi had insisted that this was a love match.

“Kris has loved Donnie since they were kids,” Andi had told him not twenty minutes earlier. “Donnie didn’t live here then, but he used to visit his grandparents quite often. Maureen’s parents
were among the first to build in the Highland Estates subdivision. Then after Donnie’s father was killed in an accident, his mother moved here to be closer to her folks.”

Zach wasn’t sure why he wanted to check out the Grimaldo house again—this time on his own. He’d used walking Sarge as an excuse to get away from the wedding preparations.

Sarge splashed contentedly at his side until they found a break in the thick clusters of cattails lining the banks on the subdivision side of the creek. Zach followed the dog up the embankment then paused to get his bearings.

There it is.
He spotted the house with blue-gray trim on a knoll a couple of hundred yards away. He’d only taken two steps when Sarge’s hackles went up. A low growl put Zach on the alert. He grabbed the dog’s collar and snapped on the leash he carried in his pocket. His mother had warned him that people could order the old dog put to death if he bit someone.

“Take it easy, boy,” Zach whispered as they advanced toward a stand of six-foot-tall reeds.

When he was about twenty feet from the spot where he’d heard the noise, Sarge’s muzzle lifted and his big black nose sniffed. Zach took a deep breath. His jaw dropped. He knew that distinctive smell. Pot.

A rustling noise told him whoever was in the bushes was about to leave. Zach pulled Sarge be
hind a car-size boulder. Whispering in the dog’s ear, Zach waited until a person appeared. Lucas.

Donnie’s kid ambled slowly toward the house without looking back.

Zach sank back against the sun-warmed hunk of granite and sighed. Sarge cocked his head questioningly. “Damn. I’m going to be living with a frigging pothead.”

“W
HAT THE HELL
is going on here?”

The angry voice slashed through the serenity of Kristin’s basement massage studio as welcome as a clap of thunder at a picnic.

Kristin and Lillian Carswell both jumped. They were sitting side by side on the love seat looking at the photo album Lillian had brought along for her regular Saturday-morning appointment. Kris had spent twenty minutes she couldn’t spare admiring the woman’s newest grandchild.

“I’m sorry. You’re…?”

“Sandra Baker.”

The name didn’t ring a bell. The face seemed familiar, but the artfully blond hair and too-perfect figure in designer wool slacks and silk blouse didn’t look local.

“Sandy
Grimaldo
Baker.”

Kris inhaled sharply. “Oh. I thought you were on your way to Africa,” she said inanely. Lucas had mentioned that his mother was scheduled to leave today.

“They’ve pushed back production two weeks, so I flew up to see Lucas and take him home with me
for a few days. Imagine my surprise when I walked in and found this.” She held up one of Jenny’s invitations.

Impulsively, Kris snatched the envelope from her as if it were a discount coupon. “You’ve found it. Thank you. I was looking all over for this. It belongs to Lillian. You remember Lillian Carswell, don’t you, Sandy? She was head librarian for as long as I can remember.”

Lillian stood up looking puzzled but intrigued.

“I wasn’t done with that,” Sandy said imperiously.

Kristin handed Lillian the vellum square and ushered her toward the door. “Donnie Grimaldo and I are getting married tomorrow, Lillian. If you’re free after church, we’d love for you to join us.”

“That nice young deputy? You’re marrying him? Well, isn’t that smart of you. I always told my girls, ‘Marry with your head, your heart will follow.’” She patted Kristin’s arm and leaned close to whisper, “Don’t let this one give you any guff. She’s a slut.”

Kristin nearly swallowed her tongue, but Lillian merely winked and walked out.

“I can’t believe that old bag is still alive,” Sandy said, sitting down. “She would never let us get away with returning books late.”

“Lillian is a dynamo. I wish I had half her energy and even a quarter of her knowledge.” Kris closed the door.

She’d known this day would come, but she’d
thought she’d have an ocean and several continents between them when it did. She walked to the love seat and sat down.

“I’m sorry this came as such a shock to you, Sandy. Donnie has been trying for days to reach you. He said he left a number of messages on your service.”

Sandy’s chin rose defensively. “Boyd and I went to Mammoth. The stress of this move has made things…well, anyway. I’m here now, and I want to know what’s going on with you and my ex-husband.”

Kristin took a deep breath. Sandy was going to be a part of their lives. They could be friendly or things could be miserable for all involved. “Donnie and I are getting married. That’s really all there is to say.”

“Kind of sudden, isn’t it? A week ago Donnie was moaning about his dream job slipping through his fingers. Now he’s getting married. To you of all people.”

Her taunt hurt, but given their high-school history, Kristin wouldn’t have expected anything less. But Kristin was no longer an insecure young girl. She was an adult. A parent. And this woman was Lucas’s mother.

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Our reasons for getting married are really no one else’s business. But as Lucas’s mother—”

“That’s right.
I’m
Lucas’s mother,” Sandy interrupted her. “And as his mother I have every right
to know who’s going to be living in the same house with him. And why.”

Kris was prepared to lie but changed her mind. If any of this conversation got back to Lucas, she wanted it to be the truth. “I’ve loved Donnie since I was a little girl, and he rescued me from some big dog that was trying to hump my leg. I was so embarrassed I thought I’d die, but he was sweet and kind and made me laugh.”

The memory came out of the blue. She hadn’t thought about the incident in years. “We’re adults now. We haven’t seen each other for a decade. But our feelings are still there. We’re just trying to do the best we can and not hurt too many people in the process.”

Sandy’s foot stopped bouncing. She tilted her head and studied Kristin. “I can respect that. I wasn’t totally in love with Boyd when I married him. He can be an arrogant SOB, but I couldn’t live without him now.”

Kristin swallowed a sizable lump in her throat. “I’m happy for you, Sandy. Truly. I was hoping we could get along for our sons’ sakes. I’ll be happy to act as your voice and hands in your absence.”

Sandy didn’t answer right away. Then she slipped off the chair and held out her hand. “While I’m not wild about the idea of Lucas having a stepmother, I always knew it might happen. The fact that you have a son could make it easier.” A tiny frown puckered her forehead. “I think Lucas gets lonely sometimes. And then he eats.”

They shook hands. “Lucas will stay with me tonight. I’ll change our tickets to a later flight tomorrow because I’m sure he’d like to be at the wedding.”

Kristin was tempted to ask if she’d cleared her plans with Lucas’s father but decided that was Donnie’s battle. Once Sandy was gone, Kris locked the door and lit a stick of incense. Clary sage—for patience and insight. She was going to need both if she was going to do a good job in her new role.

“L
ET ME PUT
those leftovers in the car,” Donnie said, taking the white disposable box from Kristin’s hand. She’d barely eaten half her dinner—herb and cheese ravioli. Nerves, he assumed. He’d ordered lasagna and had consumed every bite, but he couldn’t recall tasting it. “Do you have time for a walk?”

“Sure. It beats sitting home going crazy,” she said with a small laugh.

“Are you nervous?”

“Who me?” she asked, bracing her hands on the ornamental hitching rail in front of the Golden Corral restaurant. “Jenny and Andi are handling the reception. You’ve taken care of the ceremony. All I have to do is show up tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Our wedding day.

He unlocked the car door and placed the box on the seat. He’d heard echoes of the rumors that were racing through town—something about why he and Kris were getting married in such a hurry.

He slammed the door with more force than necessary. Kristin gave him a questioning look.

“Have you seen the changes the Kiwanis Club made to the park? Old-fashioned streetlights and cobblestone paths. The Garden Club planted hedges and did some landscaping.”

“I was home for Josh’s funeral. We held the memorial there, remember?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. That was a tough time.”

“I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Josh O’Neal had become Donnie’s best friend after Josh and Jenny moved back to town. His death had shaken Donnie. “Josh was full of colorful travel stories. My life felt black and white compared to his.”

She glanced sideways. “Trust me, Donnie. Travel is great if you have money, but moving from one crummy apartment to another because you can save ten bucks a month in rent isn’t fun.”

They walked along the raised sidewalk that distinguished the original part of town as an historical, gold rush–era community. Just four blocks long, the wide central street was a mixture of building materials ranging from quarried stone to narrow wooden siding.

She stopped in front of the hobbit-like entry of the Book Nook. A light was on inside, but a small sign in the shape of a clock was hanging on the door. The little hand pointed to the eight. “I wanted to buy Ida Jane some new crossword-puzzle
books,” Kristin said. “They’re good stimulation for her mind.”

She consulted her watch but had to twist her arm to read it.

Upside down.

Grinning, he turned her wrist over and carefully pried open the tiny latch. “Put this on by yourself, huh?”

His teasing—and the last vestiges of sunlight—lent a pink tinge to her smooth cheeks. “I was in a hurry. My client wanted an extra half hour on his neck.”

Out of nowhere, an image of Tyler Harrison on her table with only a sheet to cover him flashed before Donnie. The unpleasant bite of jealousy disturbed him. “Is business picking up?” he asked, snapping the metal clasp.

She lowered her arm and shook her hand to position the watch closer to her wrist. The birdlike bones in her tiny wrists and ankles had always fascinated him. “I left flyers at all the motels in town. My last client works with the crew contracted to trim trees near power poles. A branch fell on his shoulder.”

“Bad for him. Good for you,” Donnie said, continuing down the street. “We can stop here on our way back, okay?”

Half a block later they were in front of Patrick’s TrueValue. She tapped at a display of lightbulbs. “Remind me to pick up an exterior flood for the shop. It’s getting dark earlier.”

Donnie made a mental note to take care of the chore.

She resumed walking. She was dressed in a beguiling peasant skirt that came to her ankles and a loose, short-sleeve top the color of a Carmel sunset. Over one arm, she carried a knitted shawl.

“Was it just me?” she asked. “Or did it feel as if the whole town was watching us at dinner? They all know, don’t they?”

“Of course.” He’d realized there was no way to avoid a public appearance at some point, so he’d asked her to join him for dinner on the eve of their wedding. Lucas was with Sandy, and Zach and Tyler had spent the day in Yosemite. This was his and Kristin’s first time alone in a week—
alone
being a relative term. “This is Gold Creek. And you’re one of the Sullivan triplets. A wedding is big news.”

She snorted skeptically. “I could understand it when we were orphaned babies, but this kind of attention is getting old. Jenny told me there’s already a plan in the works for the whole town to celebrate our thirtieth birthday next February.”

As they crossed the street, a horn honked. Donnie looked to his right and spotted Pascal Fournier in his cherry-red 1957 T-bird. A popular high-school teacher, the man waved with such enthusiasm, he nearly jumped the curb. The golden retriever in the passenger seat barked.

“I think it’s safe to say Pascal’s heard about us,” Donnie said, rushing Kris to the relative safety of the sidewalk.

She waved and smiled. “I hope he’s still teaching when Zach gets to high school,” she said as they watched the car roar across the intersection. “He was one of the few teachers who made me learn.”

“I liked him as well,” Donnie said, taking her elbow to guide her across Main Street to the steps leading to the park. Fremont Park, named for John C. Fremont, adventurer and early landowner in the area, was situated on a knoll overlooking the town.

Her skin was soft and warm, and he wanted to go on touching her. But the concrete steps were only wide enough for single file. Kristin took the lead, which suited Donnie fine. If he couldn’t touch her, he’d settle for watching her as she climbed upward.

“Whew,” she said at the first landing. “I’d forgotten what a workout this is. I remember when that horrible P.E. teacher made us run up these steps once a week.”

“What are you complaining about? Coach made us do it daily at the end of football practice.”

She pivoted. “It paid off. The team won the conference title.”

Donnie stopped. He had to tilt his chin to look up at her. The pinkish-gray of twilight gave her a magical, fairy princess quality. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her.

His intention must have been plain to see because she quickly turned and sprinted up the second flight. He hurried after her. Fortunately, he’d been work
ing out extra hard the past six months in preparation for the FAM physical, so he had no trouble keeping up. And the strained muscle in his back seemed to have cleared up completely.

“Kristin,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Slow down. We need to talk.”

She didn’t stop until she reached the top, then she bent at the waist, laughing between gasps. “Dizzy.” She shook her curls. “Too old.” She placed one hand on her flat belly and drew in a deep breath. “Remind me not to do that again anytime soon.”

Her tone was bright and full of humor. Suddenly, he knew with absolute conviction, he’d made the right decision. He wanted to be here with her—to remind her not to run up the steps, or do anything else that might hurt her.

Kristin—oblivious to Donnie’s thoughts—strolled toward the replica of a miner’s cabin in the center of the park. Picnic tables were clustered inside the log shell in preparation for the rain and snow that would arrive in a few months.

“That log cabin always makes me think of winter. Remember the ski trips to Badger Pass and the time you guys crashed our all-girl retreat. We were staying at Mindy…” Her lips puckered in a thoughtful pout. “Oh, what was her name?”

She looked too damn adorable to resist, so he quit trying.

“Who cares?” he asked, drawing her to him.

She bounced against his chest, completely unpre
pared for his move, but a second later, melted against him.

“I didn’t want to do this in a public place,” he said, lightly outlining her mouth with his finger. “But at least our sons aren’t likely to show up.”

He pressed his lips to hers, cutting off her protest. At first he kissed her as chastely as a child might kiss a relative. That restraint lasted all of a millisecond. Her lips parted, and she sighed ever so slightly, a puff of warm air that stirred something in his soul.

He opened his mouth and tasted her. He let instinct carry him. And memory. They’d kissed like this before, when they’d first discovered love. Their blood had raced with overheated passion anytime they were in the same room together. When life was about possibilities, not responsibilities.

Responsibilities. A responsible man didn’t maul his fiancée in public. He pulled back, keeping his hands on her upper arms. With breathing space between them—and crisp autumn air—he could think again. “That was not good.”

Her forehead puckered. “It wasn’t?”

“No. It felt good, but it wasn’t smart. We’re not sixteen. We don’t need to neck in public. We have homes. As of tomorrow,
a
home. And two kids.”