Almost Perfect (10 page)

Ethan grinned. “He sure is. Probably scared he won't be Fool's Gold's favorite son.”

Josh frowned at Tyler. “Do you hear a buzzing sound? Not conversation. Something more annoying.”

Tyler laughed.

“I'm playing in the tournament,” Raoul told Josh. “Want to put your money where your mouth is?”

Ethan shook his head. “You might not want to bet against Josh. He's pretty good at golf.”

“So am I.” Raoul sounded confident. “How about five thousand a stroke? The winner donates the money to the charity of his choice.”

“Done,” Josh said easily. He turned to Ethan. “You playing?”

“No, but now I'll be watching.” He glanced at Tyler. “We'll have to talk about who we're willing to bet on.”

Tyler looked between the two competitors. They were both tall and muscular. Josh was what his name implied—golden. Blond hair, hazel eyes. Raoul was dark. Ethan had worked out with them enough to know they were well matched physically. Each could bench press about three hundred pounds. As could he. But he worked out because he liked it. Sometimes it seemed like Josh and Raoul were in the gym because they had something to prove.

“You'll pick me,” Josh declared easily and winked at Tyler. “They're going to talk business for a while. Want me to give you a tour of the place?”

“Sure,” Tyler said eagerly. “You've been here before?”

“A few times. You think a guy like Raoul could do this all on his own?”

Tyler laughed.

Raoul sighed. “You're overcompensating again. Should I feel sorry for your fiancée?”

Josh's grin turned cocky. “Ask her yourself. She'll tell you how satisfied she is.”

Josh and Tyler left. Ethan and Raoul settled at the small conference table in the corner, a stack of folders between them.

“Is Josh always like that?” Raoul asked, obviously amused.

“Since he was a kid. Underneath the cocky exterior, Josh is a great guy.”

Raoul nodded. “He's been a big help with the camp. I've never set up anything like this, but his work on the
cycling school gave him a lot of good ideas. Not that you need to tell him that I said that.”

“I won't.” Ethan flipped open the first folder. “We've worked through the punch list. I'll take a look around, but from what my foreman told me, we're done with the refurbishing.”

“You promised me a camp I'd be proud of,” Raoul told him. “You were right.”

They went through the various projects. The next phase was more bunkhouses and clearing an area for an ice skating rink. Raoul wanted the camp to go year-round. Ethan made notes of what he wanted to double check, including housing for the overnight staff.

“You still thinking of putting in a house for the camp director?” he asked.

Raoul shrugged. “I would, but Dakota said she's not interested in living on-site. She prefers her place back in town.”

Ethan studied the detailed map of the camp. “There's plenty of room for a couple of houses, if you decide you want to stay here all year.”

“I'm with your sister. I'd rather be in town.”

Ethan chuckled. “Don't want to give the kids that much access?”

“No. They'd never leave me alone.” Raoul leaned back in his chair. “If I decide I want to build a place instead of buy, would you give me a bid?”

“Sure. Got anywhere in mind?”

“I'm looking at a few lots. There are a couple of old
houses that have potential, but they'd need gutting or close.”

“I can do either.” Ethan closed the folder. “You sure you want to settle in a small town? Fool's Gold is pretty different from Dallas.”

“I like it here,” Raoul admitted. “I've traveled a lot, seen most of the world. I'm looking for a home base. Something permanent.”

Ethan would guess Raoul was in his early thirties. His football career had been a stunning success, so money wouldn't be a problem. “I have three sisters,” he said lightly. “Stay away from them.”

Raoul laughed. “Spoken like an older brother.”

“You got that right. Besides, there are plenty of other women in town. A lot more women than men, in fact.”

“I've noticed that. Lots of pretty ones, too. Anyone else you want to warn me about?”

Ethan thought of Liz, her shiny red hair, the scent of her skin, the way she tasted when he kissed her. He remembered her passion, her cries as she came, the flash of anger in her green eyes as she'd pointed out that what they'd done was fifty kinds of stupid.

The memories were enough to heat his blood. He found himself wanting to see her again. No. Not see. Make love. Slowly, this time. In a bed, with plenty of time to remember and even more to explore.

A wanting complicated by their past, Tyler and anger.

“There's no one,” he said.

Raoul's gaze seemed to see more than it should. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

 

L
IZ CHECKED HER LIST, BEFORE
turning her cart toward the checkout line. Pia had called a couple hours ago about the girls' night in. When Liz had tried to beg off, saying she didn't want to leave the kids by themselves, Pia had offered to move the party to Liz's place. Liz had been so unprepared for that suggestion, she hadn't figured out a way to say no. In a matter of seconds, she'd gone from unwilling participant to hostess. It was a move that would make any four-star general proud.

At least it was a distraction, Liz thought. There was no way she could panic about what to serve
and
think about Roy while worrying about Ethan. Her brain simply wasn't that big.

She got in line behind an older woman and wondered if she should buy another bag of ice. Pia had said everyone would bring plenty of liquor. Liz only had to provide snacks. Someone named Jo would bring the blender. But blender drinks required a lot of ice.

She eased out of line and started to turn toward the freezer case, when a woman in her fifties, someone Liz had never met, stopped her.

“Are you Liz Sutton?” she asked, looking more annoyed than friendly.

Liz hesitated. “Yes.”

“I thought I recognized you. I'm friends with Denise
Hendrix and I wanted to tell you that I think what you did is just awful. What kind of mother keeps her child from his father? There's no excuse for that. You hurt a wonderful family with your selfishness. I hope you're happy now.”

“Not so much,” Liz murmured as the other woman stomped away.

Still astounded by the encounter, she grabbed a second bag of ice, and returned to the checkout line. As she stood there, she felt as if everyone was staring at her, judging her.

“Hateful old cow,” she muttered quietly, wishing the name-calling would make her feel better. It didn't.

When the clerk announced the total, Liz picked up her wallet and pulled out the bills.

There should have been over one hundred dollars, but instead there were only three twenties and a single five. She frowned, sure she'd checked her cash before she'd left the house, but obviously not. She shoved the money back into her wallet and zipped a credit card through the machine.

The girls were home by the time she arrived at the house and Tyler had returned, as well. They competed for her attention as they talked about their day. She listened and nodded, doing her best to keep smiling, to forget the woman at the grocery store and not get lost in thinking about Ethan, either. Which was tough with Tyler starting every sentence with, “And then my dad…”

She got the food put away, chicken breasts in the
oven for the kids and explained about the women coming over that evening.

“I thought the three of you could go to the video store and rent movies for tonight,” she suggested.

Abby and Tyler agreed. Melissa tilted her head.

“Maybe I could stay with you,” she said. “You know, not with the kids.”

Abby and Tyler rolled their eyes. “We're not kids,” Abby chided. “And you're not all that grown-up. You're only fourteen.”

“I'm a teenager,” Melissa reminded her.

Liz didn't know what exactly happened at girls' night in, but she knew there was a lot of drinking.

“How about if you stay for the first half hour,” she suggested. “While everyone is getting here. Then you can go upstairs.”

“Fine,” Melissa conceded with a sigh. “But I'm very mature.”

“I know, honey. You did a great job while you were alone.” She hesitated, then asked the girls to sit at the table. “I want to talk about your dad.”

Tyler hovered by Liz. “Should I go upstairs?” he asked in a loud whisper.

She nodded. “I'll explain all of this later.”

“Okay,” he said, and ducked out of the room.

She settled across from the girls who were huddled together, shoulders touching, identical fearful expressions in their eyes.

“I saw your dad today,” she began. “He really misses both of you and said to tell you how much he loves you.”

“Did you tell him about Bettina?” Melissa asked.

“I did. He was angry and hurt, but so proud of you for taking care of your sister. I explained how you got in touch with me and he was really impressed.”

Melissa looked both pleased and afraid. “He's not coming home, is he?”

Liz reached across the table and took their hands in hers. “No, honey, he's not. He's going to be at Folsom for a while longer.” She drew in a breath. “I'm going to be taking care of you.”

Abby and Melissa exchanged another glance.

“I want to see my dad,” Abby said.

“In a couple weeks we'll go for a visit. And your dad said he'd write you.”

They both nodded. Abby's eyes filled with tears. Before Liz could go to her, she pushed back her chair and ran up the stairs.

“I'll talk to her,” Melissa declared, sounding far older than fourteen.

Liz wanted to ask who would take care of Melissa, but knew this wasn't the time. Damn Bettina, whoever she was, and Roy for getting in trouble in the first place. He'd been impulsive when he'd been younger and it didn't sound like that had changed. Unfortunately, now his daughters had to pay the price.

She checked on the chicken, then went through the list of snack foods she'd bought. There were different cheeses, some frozen bruschetta she would heat after the chicken was done, chips, salsa, avocados for gua
camole. She'd bought boxes of crackers, various cookies, the ingredients for a quick seven-layer bean dip and a presliced veggie plate. If Pia and her friends wanted something fancier, they were going to have to give Liz more than four hours' notice.

She climbed the stairs and went into the master bedroom. She kept her clothes here and shared the master bath with her son. After going through the few items of clothing she'd brought with her, she picked a dark green wrap shirt made out of one of those amazing fabrics that never wrinkled. She changed her shirt, decided her jeans were fine, and replaced her Ryka walking shoes with cute flat sandals.

Tyler and Abby walked into the bedroom. The young girl looked a little puffy around the eyes, but otherwise fine.

“We're going to get the movies,” Tyler announced. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“Sure.” She gave him a twenty and smiled at Abby. “You'd probably like something funny for tonight.”

Her niece nodded, then barreled toward Liz and threw herself into her embrace. Liz hugged her tightly.

“I know it's scary right now,” she whispered. “But I'm going to take care of you.”

Abby nodded and stepped back.

“We'll be right back,” Tyler called as they headed for the stairs.

“Get something funny,” Liz yelled after him from the doorway.

“Oh, Mom.”

Liz grinned and returned to the bedroom.

She pinned back her hair, then washed her face before smoothing on moisturizer. Melissa inched into the bedroom.

“Abby's better,” she said. “This is hard on her.”

“On you, too.”

Melissa shrugged.

Liz opened her zipped cosmetic bag. She pulled out concealer and smoothed the cream under her eyes, then blended with her ring finger. The mineral base she used went on next. When she'd covered her freckles and blended the color, she dug in the bag for her eye shadow.

“How do you know what to do?” Melissa asked. “I bought some makeup at the drugstore. You know, before. I couldn't get it right. Plus, I didn't like how that liquid stuff felt on my skin.”

Liz glanced at her niece. At fourteen Melissa was old enough to wear some makeup. At least mascara and a little lip gloss. The girl's skin was smooth and had that glow older women spent a fortune trying to duplicate.

“A base is for smoothing out the color of your skin and hiding imperfections,” Liz told her. “Your skin is practically perfect.”

“Unless I get a zit.”

“They happen. As for the rest of it, I learned by doing, mostly. We can practice together this weekend. The basics aren't hard.”

“Really?” Melissa looked both hopeful and almost afraid. As if anticipating anything good was a mistake.

“Sure.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Liz dug around in her bag again and pulled out a tube of gloss. “In the meantime, try this. It's one of my favorites.”

Melissa took the container and turned it over in her hand. “Sugar cookie?”

“Oh, yeah. It looks good and tastes better. Sometimes it's very cool to be a girl.”

L
IZ GOT THE KIDS FED, THE
movie started and the frozen bruschetta in the oven. The schedule was tight enough that she didn't have time to let her nerves get out of control, which was good. Well before she was ready, her doorbell rang and it didn't stop for about twenty minutes.

Nearly a dozen women piled into the cramped living room. She already knew Pia. Jo Torelli was new. Jo owned the local bar and was a relatively recent transplant to town. The Hendrix triplets arrived together and Liz was relieved they seemed relatively friendly. Before she could do more than say hello, Pia walked in with Crystal Danes.

Liz remembered the pretty blonde from high school. “It's so great to see you,” she said with a laugh.

Crystal smiled and hugged Liz. “Hmm, I thought you'd be sending me a cut of your royalties. Who do I talk to about that?”

Pia glanced between them. “I didn't know the two of you were friends. Crystal was three years ahead of me in high school, so she was what? Two years ahead of you, Liz?”

Crystal linked arms with Liz and grinned. “I met Liz in our senior creative writing class. Even though she was a lowly sophomore, our teacher thought she had talent and invited her.”

Crystal had been the only student who would speak to Liz. All the others had resented her presence and basically ignored her. A few of the girls had made mean comments about Liz's clothes, while two of the guys had hounded her about her reputation.

But in the creative writing class, Liz had done her best to ignore all that. She'd found she could forget everything in the writing process.

Each of the students had to write a short story every three weeks, then read it aloud. The first time, Liz had been terrified. While the teacher had offered glowing praise, the class had been silent when she'd finished. Feeling embarrassed and exposed, Liz had slunk back to her seat.

But at lunch that day, Crystal had sought her out and told her the story was amazing. That the other students had been silent out of shock, or maybe jealousy. Crystal had encouraged her to keep writing.

Four years later, when she was alone with a baby and terrified in San Francisco, she'd remembered Crystal's words and had signed up for a writing class. While she'd begun with another short story, eventually it had become a novel which had turned into her first published book and the beginning of her professional writing career.

“Crystal told me I had talent,” Liz admitted. “No one had believed in me before.”

Crystal squeezed her arm and laughed. “I'm an angel in disguise. Now if only I could perform a miracle or two on myself, right?”

Liz didn't know what she was talking about, but she saw pain flash through Pia's eyes and Jo turned away, as if uncomfortable with the words.

Crystal didn't seem to notice. Instead she released Liz and smiled at Melissa. “Hello. Do you have any idea where the snacks are? I'm starving.”

“Right in here,” Melissa said shyly. “I can show you.”

“That would be great.”

They walked away. Before Liz could ask what Crystal's comment had meant, Jo held up a very industrial-looking blender.

“I need a plug and some counter space,” she announced. “I'm saying upfront that while I disapprove of fruit drinks on principle, I'm making an exception tonight. I've come up with a mango-strawberry margarita that is going to make you all worship me.”

“I'm glad I bought extra ice,” Liz told her as she led the way into the kitchen. “I'll get glasses. Will everyone have margaritas?”

“Not me,” Crystal declined as she walked into the kitchen behind Jo.

“I'll make yours without tequila,” Jo said easily.

“You're very good to me.”

“Don't let word get out.”

Crystal laughed, then picked up a tray of veggies. “Should I take these out to everyone?”

As she turned, the light caught her full in the face. Liz was shocked to see dark shadows under her eyes and a gray cast to her skin. It hadn't been noticeable in the kinder light of the living room, but under the glaring fluorescents, she looked drawn and sick.

Liz did her best to keep her shock from showing. “That would be great,” she responded. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and Melissa went upstairs. I think we scared her, which makes me feel bad.”

When Crystal had returned to the living room, Jo glanced at Liz, obviously reading her expression. “Crystal's sick. Cancer. She's been fighting awhile, but she's not winning.”

Liz felt as if someone had hit her in the gut. “Oh my God. No. She's too young.”

“Cancer doesn't seem to care about that. You okay?”

Liz nodded, although her stomach churned, as if she was going to be sick.

Jo picked up a pitcher of mix and dumped it over the ice in the blender, then poured in a generous amount of tequila. “Prepare to watch the lights dim,” she called and turned on the blender.

Less than a minute later, Liz was pouring the slushy concoction into glasses. She took them into the living room where the other women had claimed seats on the worn sofa and the floor. Someone had pulled in battered
chairs from the dining room. She did her best to smile and keep things normal. Everyone else was. Apparently that's how Crystal wanted things.

Dakota and Nevada sat together; but Montana jumped up the second Liz entered.

“I was telling everyone about the signing.”

Pia rolled her eyes. “Montana, I swear. You're as subtle as an elephant. We agreed not to bug Liz about the signing.”

Crystal looked up from her place nestled in the corner of the couch. “Don't you like signings?” she asked.

“I'm not sure how long I'm going to be here,” Liz admitted.

Conversation shifted to events in town. There was talk of the new hospital being built and rumors about ex-football star Raoul Moreno moving to town.

“He's very good-looking,” Montana said with a sigh.

“Interested?” her sister Dakota asked.

“Not for me, but maybe we could fix him up with Liz and she would be so grateful, she'd do the signing.”

Pia groaned and leaned back against the wall. “You have a one-track mind.”

Dakota laughed. “She's the stubborn one. And before any of the rumors get out of hand, yes, Raoul is thinking of settling here in Fool's Gold. He likes the small-town feel.”

Topics shifted to other people, the general lack of men and what was being done about bringing more of
them to town. Charity Jones, the new city planner, was teased about capturing the heart of Josh Golden, the last great eligible bachelor. Although everyone seemed comfortable with Raoul Moreno claiming the title. Liz thought about pointing out that Ethan was single, but was afraid it would stir up memories of their very public breakup all those years ago.

The talk was comfortable, if not exactly familiar, Liz thought. Growing up, she'd never felt as if she were part of the community, but maybe some of that was her fault. Sitting in the living room where she'd lived, getting slightly buzzed on margaritas, hanging out with women she hadn't seen in years, she felt a sense of loss. That maybe the friends she'd been looking for all those years ago had been right in front of her. If only she'd bothered to look.

Not Pia, she thought, watching the now charming woman laugh at something Crystal said. Their relationship had been a little too “mean girl” for her liking. But what about Crystal or even Ethan's sisters?

Her experiences in high school had made her cautious about making friends with other women. But maybe she'd been too quick to walk away from something important. Something she'd realized she was missing.

Her gaze slipped to Crystal who, despite her illness, appeared happy and content. Talk about having character. Liz had a feeling she was more the curl-up-and-whimper type.

“Am I allowed to ask how you started writing?” Montana inquired, interrupting Liz's thoughts. “That's not the same as talking about the signing.”

Liz laughed. “You're right. It's not even close.”

“Tell her it's because of me you're famous,” Crystal called out.

“It's true,” Liz agreed. “Crystal told me I had talent and to never forget that.”

Pia was next to her friend and grabbed her hand. “You're such a good person. It's intimidating. Tell me again, why do I like you?”

Everyone laughed.

“Seriously,” Montana pressed. “How did you start?”

“I wrote a short story about a man who was murdered and found I couldn't let the idea go,” Liz explained. “It kept getting bigger in my mind.”

She left out the part about the cathartic nature of killing Ethan over and over again. At least in fiction. It was kind of a writer thing and she doubted anyone else would understand that it didn't mean she was dangerous or creepy.

“I was alone with a baby and I couldn't afford cable,” she continued. “Writing felt like a way to escape the pressure.”

Crystal turned to her. “Where did you go when you left here?”

“San Francisco.”

Liz had the feeling there were going to be more questions but just then Jo appeared with another pitcher
of margaritas and the conversation shifted to the various summer festivals. Montana grinned at Liz.

“If you would just agree to sign,” she began, “we would have the best festival ever.”

It was one book signing, Liz thought. She did them all the time. So what if it was here? She could handle a couple of hours at a table, talking to her fans. And Liz appreciated that Montana was the only Hendrix still speaking to her.

“Sure,” she said.

Montana straightened. “Seriously?”

“Why not? I'd love to.”

Even if she wasn't still living in Fool's Gold, she could drive in for the day. Tyler could hang out with his dad, her nieces could see their friends and then they would all go back to San Francisco, where life was normal and people standing in the grocery store didn't know anything about you.

An hour later, Liz went to check on the kids. As she stood, she had to steady herself for a second. Her balance felt off—apparently she'd been drinking more than she'd realized. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused as a burst of loud laughter filled the room. She grinned. She wasn't the only one who was feeling the alcohol. Good thing everyone was walking home.

After confirming all three of her charges were totally engrossed in their movie, she returned to the kitchen, opened the last few packages of cookies and dumped them on two plates. Normally she would arrange them neatly, but right now that seemed impossible.

Pia walked into the kitchen. “I don't know how Crystal stands us. She's the only one not drinking.”

Liz looked up, her sense of contentment fading. “Jo mentioned she was sick.”

“She's dying,” Pia said flatly. “Today she doesn't look like it, but she is. They've given her less than six months. She's working with hospice. This is the first time she's been out of her apartment in a week. She's living on painkillers.”

“I'm sorry,” Liz whispered, the gut-clenching returning.

“Me, too. She's a good friend.” Pia drew in a breath. “I don't want to talk about it. Knowing I'm losing her is impossible and makes me cry. As drunk as I am, I probably won't stop for hours and no one wants that. Least of all Crystal.”

Liz nodded and had to swallow before she could speak. “Are you up to carrying in a plate of cookies?”

Pia eyed the plate doubtfully. “What happens if I drop them?”

“They fall?”

She smiled. “I can make an effort.” But instead of reaching for the plate, she leaned against a counter. “Why didn't you come back? When you found out you were pregnant?”

Not a question Liz wanted to answer. “It wasn't an option.”

“Of course it was. Even if your mom wouldn't have taken you in, there was still Ethan and his family. You
shouldn't have kept his kid from him. It wasn't very nice.”

It was one thing to be yelled at by an older woman she didn't know, but it was quite another to have Pia O'Brian passing judgments on her.

“And that's the whole story?” Liz asked, trying to stay calm and keep her voice low.

Pia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It's not as if you tried to tell him.”

“You're wrong,” Liz told her, planting her hands on her hips. “I did come back. Pretty much as soon as I found out I was pregnant. I'd been gone all of three weeks. You'd think after how in love he claimed to be he would have waited to replace me, but no. He was in his little apartment over the garage. Naked. In bed with someone.” She narrowed her gaze. “He was in bed with you, Pia.”

Pia slipped and had to grab onto the counter to stay upright. Her mouth dropped open. “No,” she breathed.

“Am I wrong?”

Pia winced. “I did get him into bed, but it's not what you think.”

“You weren't trying to have sex with him?”

“Okay, yes. It was that, but I…” Pia shook her head, then swore. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”

Liz waited. “Didn't mean what? To take him?”

“You were gone. Plus, I wasn't completely sure the two of you were actually dating. Josh said something that one time and Ethan denied everything.”

Not an afternoon Liz cared to remember. It had been difficult enough working as a waitress in the one place the popular kids liked to hang out, but it had been sheer torture being there when Ethan came home from college and they started seeing each other. They'd both agreed it was better if no one knew about them. He had his family's reputation to think about. After all, he was a Hendrix.

Liz had been young enough and foolish enough to think that was a good reason to slink around behind everyone's back. Today she wouldn't bother. Either a man wanted to be with her or he didn't. But back then she'd been so grateful to have someone care about her. Especially Ethan.