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ANDY FLOYD HELD TRUE to his promise, watching until Noah Blake’s motorcycle had disappeared in a swirl of dust on the highway. Inside the warm school building, he scanned the halls for tardy students, but wasn’t lucky enough to see any he could nab. They had probably seen him first, and were hiding until he went back to his office.
When he reached his desk, he dropped into the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The last person he’d expected or wanted to see this morning was Noah Blake. Nothing but trouble, he’d been, since the day he first set foot on school grounds.
Worse was the trouble he brought with him. Floyd grabbed the phone and pressed an auto-dial number. “Hey,” he told the man who answered. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What now?”
“Noah Blake is back.”
“Who?”
“Noah Blake. The kid who ran away before the 1989 graduation, remember? After the fire?”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s he want?”
“Who knows? But he looks like he usually gets whatever he sets his mind on. A real tough character.”
After a second, the man on the phone laughed. “A tough character, is he? Good for him.
“Because I’m a pretty tough character myself.”
FRIDAY MORNING, NOAH WENT to see the one person in town who knew the truth about him, the one person who had expected him to show his face in New Skye again.
Rob Warren lived in a peaceful neighborhood on the north side of downtown, in a comfortable-looking house surrounded by plenty of grass and trees. A green pine garland draped the porch rails, tied to the posts with big red bows. Lightbulbs twinkled in the garland and on the holly trees beside the front steps—nighttime would bring on a terrific light display, sure to please the kids. He’d always enjoyed Christmas lights himself.
Noah rang the doorbell, then stared at the huge wreath on the front door until the panel swung back with a draft of sharp, sweet pine scent and the jingle of small silver bells.
“Hey, Noah, good to see you. Come on in.”
Warm and simple, cinnamon-scented, Rob’s house immediately felt like home. Not any home Noah had ever experienced, but somehow he knew this was the way life was supposed to be. The Christmas tree by the front window stretched from floor to ceiling and, even in the daylight, shone with hundreds of lights, as well as ornaments of every kind. A nativity scene took up the entire mantel over the fireplace, complete with camels, cows, sheep, donkeys, chickens, dogs and angels. Noah smiled when he saw an obviously hand-made dog near the manger.
“Yeah, the kids wanted Buttercup, my sister’s golden retriever, at the stable,” Rob explained. “I whittled and Valerie painted her.” He shook his head. “Good thing we never thought about being artists. I don’t think we can claim a thimbleful of talent between us. Have a seat.”
Noah sat on the reclining armchair in the corner. “Looks like y’all will have a very merry Christmas morning.” Presents wrapped in colorful paper and decorated with ribbons and bows were piled high at the base of the tree.
“We’ve gone overboard, I guess. It’s so much fun to be a family—not two single parents with kids—that we’re a little crazy.” Rob shrugged, and his grin displayed not one morsel of regret. “That’s what credit cards are for. Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m great.” Between anxiety over this interview and the need to choke down his mother’s scrambled eggs, he’d downed four cups this morning.
“Okay, then.” Rob folded his long body onto the couch. “Thanks for coming here. My daughter Ginny had some surgery last week, and she’s still recuperating in bed.”
“I hope she’s okay.” Noah couldn’t imagine coping with a child who needed surgery. Maybe Rob didn’t have such an ideal life, after all?
“She’ll be better in a few months. Ginny has cerebral palsy, and as she grows the doctors want to make adjustments in her tendons and muscles. We don’t always agree with what they suggest, but she’s been through a growth spurt recently and it seemed like the right thing to do. Even this close to Christmas.”
Noah started to get up again. “Maybe this isn’t a good time—”
Rob waved him down. “No, no, we’re fine. This just happens to be my day to stay home—Valerie and I are alternating. Next week, my sister Jen will be off duty as an EMT, and she’ll stay with Ginny.” He smiled. “We’re blessed with family who help out. And each other—I don’t know what I’d do anymore without Valerie. Plus Grace and Connor, who will play with Ginny for hours while she’s in bed. When they’re not squabbling, of course.”
Rob picked up a file folder lying on the coffee table and paged through it. “So let’s get business out of the way and then maybe Ginny will be awake and I can introduce you. I haven’t told anybody you were coming back—haven’t mentioned, even to Valerie, that we’ve talked about this job. I figure your past is your business, and you’ll decide what you want people to know and when.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got a lot of paperwork here, forms to be signed and then delivered to your parole officer, forms I’m supposed to keep, information you’re required to read. I guess we’ll go over it one page at a time, make sure we’ve got everything covered. But first…”
Setting the folder back on the table, Rob braced his elbows on his knees, linked his fingers and then looked straight into Noah’s face.
“First, I want to hear what you’ve been doing the last fifteen years or so. Tell me where you worked, where you lived, what you did in your spare time. Explain to me how in the world you ended up in prison.
“And then, give me one good reason I should trust you with a job.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ABBY CLOSED THE DINER at nine Friday night and went home. As soon as she turned the last corner, she saw the big Harley parked by the curb across from her dad’s house. Noah sat in the saddle, arms folded over his chest. He’d come for the dog, or to argue about the dog. She hadn’t yet forgiven him for the argument yesterday morning.
“What are you doing here?” She bumped the car door shut with her hip.
“I came to get the dog.”
“To do what with him? Your mother won’t let him in the house, remember?”
“I’ll hide him in my room.” His smile gleamed white for a second. “She’ll never know.”
Now she crossed her arms. “Are you crazy? Of course she’ll notice.”
“She never knew about the mice I kept, or the lizards. I had a rabbit for a couple of years without her finding out.”
“How in the world did you do that?”
“Kept my room clean, clothes washed, bed changed. She didn’t have a reason to come in and snoop, so the rabbit stayed in the closet except when I was there and locked the door.”
Abby couldn’t help but laugh. “All these years, the teenagers of the world never realized the secret to true privacy was simple neatness.”
“Give people what they want and they pretty much leave you alone.”
“Words of wisdom.” She stared at him through the darkness for a moment, watching the streetlight beam shimmer across his hair. “Well, come on in. Dad’s usually in bed by now, so the coast should be clear.”
She could have taken him around the back of the house to the sunporch. But she didn’t want to sneak Noah in, as if she were ashamed of him. Noah Blake was as good as anyone else in town.
Still, she was thankful to see no sign of her dad as she led Noah through the front rooms. When they reached the kitchen, she could hear the dog snuffling on the other side of the door to the porch. As soon as she opened that door, the little guy was all over Noah.
“Hey, buddy.” He knelt by the door so the dog could lick his face. “You’re looking pretty good after a couple of days of inside digs. You even got a bath.” Noah looked up at Abby. “That must have been fun. He can’t have had too many in his life.”
“I took him to a friend of mine who runs a dog-grooming business. She said he did okay. Maybe he belonged to people at one point and got lost.”
“Maybe. Thanks, anyway.” Cradling the dog against his chest, Noah got to his feet. “You’ve been a big help.”
He intended to go, and take the dog with him. They would both disappear from her life. After the way Noah had acted, she should be glad. But…
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
He’d reached the door between the kitchen and the hallway. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Hot chocolate?”
Noah stopped and turned back. “That’s a low blow.”
“Does it work?”
“As long as your dad won’t come in and yell at me.”
Abby closed the doors to the hall and to the dining room. “He’ll never know you’re here. Have a seat at the table. This’ll just take a second.”
Noah set the dog on the floor and took a chair. He observed the kitchen while she worked. After a few minutes of companionable silence, he said, “Let me guess—your favorite color is red.”
She grinned as she poured milk and cream into the chocolate mixture. “Can’t put anything over on you.”
“Red pots and pans, red-checked curtains, red apples on the table and a red rug on the floor. I’d have to be pretty dense.”
“Red dishes, too,” she pointed out, taking two big mugs out of a cabinet. “Add green napkins and I’m all decorated for Christmas.”
When the chocolate started to simmer, she moved the saucepan off the burner and poured the beverage into the cups. She handed him a mug, then sat across the table with her own. The dog settled between them on the red rug, his chin resting on one outstretched paw.
Noah took a sip of chocolate. “You sure do work miracles—this is even better than the stuff you made the other day.”
“At home, I can use expensive chocolate and cream. At the diner, I have to remember cost control.”
“It’s worth the price. Maybe you could put Abby’s Special Hot Chocolate on the menu and charge more.”
She shook her head. “Charlie’s pretty rigid about keeping prices down. He’s the boss.”
“So open your own place. Charge anything you want.”
“And compete with the Carolina Diner? I don’t think so.”
“You’ll just stick with the status quo?”
“I haven’t been offered any other options.” Beside them, the windowpane rattled in the wind. Abby glanced down at the dog. “It’s a cold night to take him out on the motorcycle. He doesn’t have too much hair.”
“I brought the backpack. He’ll be warm enough.”
“And he still doesn’t have a name.”
“No.” Noah stared down at the mutt. “Spot?”
She huffed in frustration. “He doesn’t have spots.”
“So?”
“A dog’s name is supposed to mean something. Everybody’s name should mean something.”
“Who says?”
“I do.” Holding her mug with both hands, she closed her eyes. “Loner? Ranger?”
“The Lone Ranger?” He grinned at her disgusted stare. “Why make such a big deal? Call him Harry.”
“But he’s not. How about Scruffy?”
“I’m not hanging around with a Scruffy.”
“I don’t see you hanging around with him at all.”
Noah glared at her over the top of his mug, then took a long swig, effectively hiding his face. They dropped the argument long enough to enjoy the hot chocolate, and Abby gathered the courage to ask a question.
“So tell me…where have you been for the last decade or so, anyway?”
“Around.” He set the drink on the table, pushing the handle of his mug with the pointer finger of one hand to the other, and back again.
When she didn’t say anything, he seemed to realize he hadn’t given enough of an answer. “Atlanta, mostly, for the last few years.”
“What do you do?”
“Do?”
She slapped her palm on the table. At their feet, the dog jumped and sat up. “You’re infuriating! You have to eat, right? What do you do to earn money?”
He chuckled at her temper tantrum. “Calm down, Abigail. I’ve worked a lot of different jobs over the years. Landscaping, moving furniture, construction, restaurant work—”
“Really? What kind?”
Noah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Short-order cook, maître d’, dishwasher, waiter. I did some sous-chef work at one place in Florida, but didn’t stay long enough to get anywhere.”
“You’ve been to Florida? And Georgia. Where else?”
When he shook his head, she insisted. “Come on, Noah, tell me where all you’ve traveled. I’ve been stuck in this little town since the day I was born, and as far as I can tell, I’ll be here till I die. But I love hearing about other people’s adventures.”
Still, Noah hesitated. Abby didn’t really want to know about the majority of the adventures he’d had—too many low-rent apartments and bar fights, too much experience with the police and the prison system, too few good meals to eat and good people to talk to. Wherever he’d been, he hadn’t spent time on the right side of the tracks.
But he tried to give her what she wanted. “I hitched my way to California when I left here. Learned to surf and do some in-line skating.” The entire two years had passed in an alcoholic haze. “Then I went to Wyoming and learned to ski at Jackson Hole. I was a lift operator for a season.” He pretended to shiver. “Talk about cold.”
“I can’t imagine that much snow. And the Rocky Mountains—are they just spectacular?”
Somehow, she got him to describe what he’d seen of the Rockies…and Hawaii, where he’d only been able to afford a couple of months. He had stuff to tell about New York, Chicago, Dallas and San Antonio, too.
