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She sounded weary, maybe a little wistful. Jake’s antennae went up, before he reminded himself that she was a mom who’d been on a road trip with a broken-down car and three children who weren’t shy about their opinions.
She looked the worse for the wear. Her pale blond hair was caught up at the back of her head with straggly wisps hanging loose. A wayward bra strap peeked out from the sleeveless pink blouse that was wrinkled and untucked from a pair of baggy shorts. Nice legs. But no tan. White socks sagged at her ankles. Her five-dollar-bin tennis shoes were scuffed and fraying at the pinkie toes. Around one wrist was a rubber band, a grimy braided string knotted into place and a stretchy bracelet made of pink sparkly frills and doodads.
Jake’s eyes went back up. Lia’s face was pretty enough when she wasn’t looking hassled or worried, but she wasn’t his type. Not that he actually had a type except for knowing from the age of sixteen what he didn’t need: women who clung, women who whined, women with great expectations.
Since he’d been back in Alouette and seen tough little Wild Rose so happy and content with her fiancé, there’d grown a few doubts in Jake’s mind that maybe the Robbin siblings weren’t destined to be loners after all. He’d even experienced a rare loneliness, on his own, without his squadron, without orders, without a firm plan for the future. Rose had been thrilled to have him back—hell, she’d hugged him so hard he’d had bruises the next day—but she’d also been busy with her new family and wedding plans. When the twittering bridesmaids had descended, Jake had made himself scarce.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, already grown out some from its Army-issue zip cut. Rose would read him the riot act if he didn’t offer her friend a place to stay. But she was on her honeymoon for a week or so, which would leave him with too many days of goggle-eyed attitude, worship and questions from the Howard children. What he’d get from Lia was anyone’s guess.
Jake kept his mouth shut, not so sure he wanted to find out.
Lia had taken another sniff of Howie. “It’s not that bad. You should come along so we don’t impose on Mr. Robbin more than we already have.”
Howie’s face fell. “But I stink.”
She gave him a stern look. “Not that bad. You’re mostly smelling Mr. Robbin.”
Howie looked at Jake, hoping for help.
He shrugged. If Lia was going to be stubborn, he wouldn’t insist.
Now she was looking doubtfully at his heavy-duty pickup truck, a GMC Sierra, parked in front of the main house. “You know how to drive a stick?” he asked and tossed her the keys that had been in his pocket when he’d gotten skunked.
She caught them, her expression remaining hesitant even when she nodded. “I can drive a stick. But I need— I need—” Now she was pained. “Money,” she finally blurted. Her face went red. “For the tomato juice. I’ll have to get a lot of the large-size cans to make a bath for…” Her gaze skipped across his chest before pinning itself on his left ear while she said in a rush, “A big man like you.”
“No problem. My wallet’s inside. In fact, if you don’t mind, you can pick up a few groceries for me while you’re at it.” The thought at the back of his mind was that the food was actually for them, but if she was broke, he didn’t want her to feel like a charity case. “Milk, bread, eggs, fruit, hamburger—that kind of stuff. Okay?”
“Okay.” She let out a breath of relief. “I’m happy to help. I owe you for taking one for my son.”
“Forget it.” Jake suppressed the urge to give her one more lingering look. He went inside instead. If he stomped more than usual, it was only because that with all of her darting glances, she’d made him aware of how odd he must look wearing a towel and combat boots.
“I dON’T WANT TO STAY there.” Sam crossed her arms and glowered at the rows of garishly colored boxes of breakfast cereal. “He’s a big grump.”
“Takes one to know one.” Lia put a box of corn flakes into the cart. “Besides, he hasn’t invited us and I doubt that he will.” She worried her lip, reading over the list she’d made of the items that Jake had reeled off while he’d handed her a wad of twenties, more than enough for groceries. The thick lump of cash in her pocket only reminded her how much she’d come to count on Rose’s hospitality as her meager savings had dwindled on the trip north.
“Then where will we go?”
Lia sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have any money left?”
While Lia had tried as best she could to shield the children from their circumstances, Sam was aware. In the past year, she’d heard “I don’t have the money for that” so often from Lia that she no longer asked for luxuries. She’d taken babysitting jobs and saved for months to buy the iPod.
“What if he does? Will you say yes?”
“Sam, please. I don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better decide,” Sam said snottily.
Lia meant to scold her daughter’s tone, but when their eyes met, she read Sam’s distress despite her daughter’s attempt to keep up the tough front. Another piece of Lia’s heart chipped away.
“We’ll be okay,” she soothed. “Rose said rent is cheap in Alouette. If I can find a job, we’ll manage.”
“I can get a job and give you the money.”
“I appreciate the offer, but you’re only fourteen.”
“So? I can work.” Sam unzipped her backpack. “I have thirty-six dollars saved from babysitting. You can have it—to pay for a motel.”
Lia wanted to refuse. She’d promised herself that she’d make it on her own from here on out.
Get real. The only way you’ll make it is with Rose’s help—now Jake’s—and maybe Sam’s babysitting money, too. Her pride hurt, but she’d been humbled before and she could do it again to give the kids the basics of food, shelter, safety. And eventually, she hoped, a better life.
“Thanks, honey,” Lia said. “I may need a loan, but you hold on to your money for now.”
Sam clutched the backpack. “I don’t want to stay in those stinky cabins.” Her voice was shrill.
“We’ll see.” Fighting to stay on an even keel despite her daughter’s pushing, Lia rolled the cart into the next aisle. She met up with Howie and Kristen, who’d gone to get milk and eggs.
Howie put the cartons in the wire buggy. “I got two percent—is that okay, Mom?”
Kristen had glimpsed the cereal boxes around the corner. “Mommy, Mommy, Mom.” She grabbed at Lia’s shirt, untucking it again. “Can we have Honey-bear Crunch? Pleeese?”
Something a little like hysteria crawled up Lia’s throat. At four ninety-five a box? she wanted to screech. She pried her hand off the cart handle and took her daughter’s shoulder to aim her at the toothpaste-and-soap aisle. Nothing there she’d want. “No cereal. We’re not shopping for ourselves this time.”
“Mr. Bubble!” Kristen took off like a shot.
“Howie?”
“I’ll get her, Mom.” He trudged after his sister.
Sam was staring at the floor. “Can we go now?”
Lia consulted the list. “Just a few more things.”
“Mo-om. Come on, already.” Sam stamped a clog. “I hate this stupid town. Why did you bring us here?” When Lia didn’t answer, she flung herself into the next aisle.
“Get paper plates,” Lia said matter-of-factly.
A roundly pregnant woman with a heaped cart gave Lia a wry look as she wheeled by. “Ah, the joys of motherhood. I can’t wait.”
“Your first?”
“Yes.” The woman rubbed her belly, her face serene. “Due in a few more months.”
Lia felt a pang. She remembered touching her ex’s hand over her belly that way, with Samantha, when they were young and still in love. “Good luck,” she said, moving on.
The woman looked past her shoulder. She was tall and queenly, with a burnished brunette bob and a wide smile. “You’re new in town.”
Lia paused. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only in Alouette. I’ve lived here for just about a year now and already I’m on a first-name basis with the entire population.” She added chummily, “And you have to wave at them every time your cars pass or they’ll think you’re mad.”
“Then you’d know—” Lia broke off. She had to remember not to be forthcoming.
The woman looked curious, but she covered the awkward silence by introducing herself. “I’m Claire Saari.”
“Lia Howard. We’re not…uh, I’m not sure, but—” She took control of her stumbling tongue. “What I’m trying to say is that we may be only visiting overnight. I haven’t decided.”
“Where are you staying?” When Lia hesitated to answer, Claire laughed. “Sorry. I could blame small-town nosiness, but really it’s that there aren’t many accommodations in town and I run one of them.” She produced a card from her purse. “Bay House, a bed-and-breakfast. June is early in the season yet, so I can get you a room if you’re looking.”
Lia studied the card, which was embossed with a line drawing of a Victorian mansion perched on a cliff-side. Too ritzy by far. “Must be a nice place.”
Claire lowered her voice. “I’ll give you a discount.”
“Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”
Claire glanced at the food in Lia’s cart. “Your only other local choice may not be viable, but you might prefer it if they’re open. Maxine’s Cottages.” She pointed. “Thataway—on Blackbear Road.”
“I know it.”
“Oh. You’ve been there already? With most of the family away, I wasn’t sure if the cottages—” Claire stopped and looked at Lia with dawning knowledge. “Wait a minute. You’re Rose’s friend from below the bridge, aren’t you? I remember she mentioned a Lia who couldn’t be at the wedding and so she had Tess as her maid of honor instead.”
“This really is a small town,” Lia said with some dread. What had possessed her to believe that she would be able to keep her secrets here? Except that Rose had managed for a very long time—until the man she’d wound up marrying had persuaded her that she could come clean.
“Yes.” Claire had laughing eyes. “We’re terribly small and gossipy. But we don’t hold a grudge if you tell us to butt out when we get too intrusive. Like me now.” She started to wheel her cart away, then stopped again. “Call me if you need anything, all right?”
“I had car trouble,” Lia blurted. It was good to have an honest excuse. “That’s why we missed the wedding. And now we’re here and Rose is gone.”
Claire made a sympathetic tsking sound. “You have to stick around until she comes back. I’m sure she’d want to see you.”
“I’d like to, but…”
“Rose’s brother should be at the cottages. I heard he’s planning to renovate them and reopen.”
“We met him already, the kids and I.”
“Of course.” Claire nodded at the groceries in the basket. “Then you are staying? Rose will be so pleased. She’s not one to gush, but I could tell she’d really hoped to have you at the wedding.”
“We’d been out of touch for a while.” Lia was dismayed that she’d been thinking mostly of herself and how Rose could help her out of a dire situation.
But that had been their pattern as friends, since Rose had always been so cussedly independent, even taciturn, about her own desires. Lia was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of the gruff woman she’d known marrying the town’s widowed basketball coach and making a family that included his daughter and the teenage son Rose had given up for adoption when she was young.
“A few years apart doesn’t matter between friends,” said Claire. She tipped her head. “What did you think of Jake?”
Lia gulped down the thickness that formed in her throat at every thought of him. “He’s a lot like Rose.”
“The old Rose.” Claire’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered Lia. “Maybe the new Rose, too.”
What did that mean? Lia didn’t want to ask because she suspected the observation involved her and the kids. “I don’t know the new Rose.”
“She’s much like the old one except she smiles more often and even carries on a conversation. She has a great rapport with Lucy, her new stepdaughter.”
“Uh-huh. She was always good with my kids. I have three.” Lia lifted her head to the sound of the trio squabbling in the next aisle of the small grocery store. She gave a wry smile. “That’s them. I’d better go.”
“Tell Jake I said hi.”
“Sure.” Lia made a hurried wave and wheeled away, her face growing warm as she puzzled over the idea of how Jake might be like the newly married, newly mothered Rose. The likeliest explanation was too absurd to hold in her head. She shook it loose. Crazy. Although she barely knew the man, she was certain that Jake was not the family type.
Pretty certain.
CHAPTER THREE
TWENTY MINUTES LATER , Lia poured a sixty-four-ounce can of tomato juice over Jake’s head. The thick red waterfall coated his hair and face, then streamed in slimy globules over his shoulders and chest. He was stoic, not making a sound as she shook the can and the last droplets landed all over his face.
“Cool,” Howie said. “It looks like blood. Dump some on me.”
“Ugh.” Lia cranked open another can.
Jake used a washcloth to smear the juice over his skin. He and Howie sat in a big iron claw-foot tub. Howie had insisted on the communal bath, which was unusual because he’d always been a serious little guy, private about his personal business from an early age. Lia had expected Jake to refuse or at least hesitate, but he’d merely shrugged and climbed into the tub in his boxers. It was the same with the grocery receipt and remaining cash that she’d carefully laid out on the kitchen table so he could see she’d accounted for every penny. He’d barely spared a glance. Jake certainly wasn’t a fussy man.
Not like Larry.
“Sauce me,” Howie said.
“Seinfeld,” Jake said. “The entity.”
Howie pumped a fist, making a splash in the pink water. “Yes!”
“What did I miss?” Lia dumped juice over Howie’s head. He shrieked and sputtered with delight. She smiled to hear it, and her lungs expanded, taking in a deeper breath than she’d known for months, even years.
Jake leaned back in the tub. “Don’t you ever watch Seinfeld reruns?”
“Not really.”
“See, there was this episode with a stink in the car, called ‘the entity,’” Howie said, forgetting to breathe he was so excited.
“The stink clung to everything it touched,” Jake added.
“So Elaine, her hair smelled, and she had to get a tomato-juice shampoo, and she said—”
“Sauce me,” Jake and Howie chorused. They looked at Lia, waiting for a laugh.
“I see.” She shook the empty can. “But this is juice, not sauce.”
“Mom.”
“Same thing.” Jake shook his head at Howie. “She doesn’t get it.”
