Almost Perfect (6 page)

“
Action Boy
looks so cool,” he mentioned. “He's starting middle school, like me. He picks up a special rock from outer space and gets super powers.”

“Super powers would be a lot of fun,” Ethan told him.

“That one starts in three weeks. Mom always takes me on the first day. We go to the early show, except this one time we went at midnight.” Tyler laughed. “I was still a kid, so I fell asleep. Mom didn't mind and took me back the next day so I could see what I missed.”

Tyler talked on, the conversation growing easier with every passing minute. Apparently he didn't stay shy for
long. Ethan watched as well as listened, recognizing a few Hendrix family traits in his son.

The subjects themselves were conventional. School, sports, friends, his family. But the latter gave him trouble, seeing as Tyler's only family was Liz. From what Ethan could tell, she'd been a good mother. Caring, fair and strong when she needed to be. And Tyler had thrived.

He supposed that some part of him should be pleased, but all he felt was deep resentment for what he'd lost. No, he reminded himself. Not lost. What had been stolen from him.

When Tyler ran upstairs to find a favorite video game, Ethan moved into the kitchen. He found Liz there, flipping through a magazine.

“You're not rejoining us?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I thought I'd give you two time together,” she said. A faint smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Afraid you'll miss the cookies?”

Humor as a peace offering, he thought. While the sexual side of him could appreciate the shape of her face, the appeal of her body, the rest of him wasn't so easily swayed.

“I want more time with him,” he said bluntly.

She closed the magazine and rose. “I wasn't trying to keep him from you,” she began then shook her head. “Never mind. We'll have that argument when I have evidence on my side. What did you want to suggest?”

“We have a minor league baseball team in town. They're playing tomorrow. I want to take him.”

“Sure. What time?”

“The game's at noon.”

“Okay.”

She was too agreeable, he thought, irritated. He wanted to fight with her, argue. He had too much energy and nowhere to put it. Apparently she could also read his mind.

“I'm not the bad guy,” she elaborated softly. “I wish you'd at least try to see that.”

“You kept me from my son. There's nothing you can say to make that right. What Tyler and I have lost can never be recovered.”

She stared at him for a long time. “I agree I have responsibility for what happened, but so do you. And until you can admit your part of the blame, you're going to be so caught up in the past, that you'll miss the present and what you have now.”

“What do I have? A kid who doesn't know me?”

“You have a second chance, Ethan. How often does that happen?”

L
IZ GOT THROUGH THE REST OF
the evening and actually managed to sleep through the night, despite the lumpy sofa. She spent the morning answering e-mail and figuring out when she could see Roy.

Prison visiting hours were on the weekend. At this point she didn't think it was a good idea to leave the girls home by themselves for more than a couple of hours. Not that they weren't capable of handling things—she didn't want them to feel abandoned. But she couldn't take them with her the first time. She needed answers from Roy, and he may not tell her everything with the girls there.

Her last books had used a couple California prisons as a backdrop and she knew some people in the system. After making a few calls, she got through to a contact who thought he might be able to get her in for a midweek visit. Pleased, she opened her Word program and prepared to work.

But the second she saw the blinking cursor on the blank page, she found her thoughts straying from her plot to Ethan. He'd been beyond pissed with her and
still was. She'd meant what she'd said—he would have to learn to let it go or he would never have a decent relationship with Tyler. Anger had a way of taking over everything. She should know. It had taken her months to get over what Ethan had done to her. In fact, she didn't think she'd fully let go of her feelings until she'd written that first short story where he'd died a painful death.

Later, when she'd expanded the short story into her first novel, she'd moved beyond the need to punish Ethan. She'd hoped for at least a calm, adult relationship—one that put Tyler first. It was the reason she'd returned five years ago.

She closed the computer and stood. Apparently this wasn't going to be one of those days when the work went quickly and easily. Maybe she'd been trapped inside for too long.

A quick glance at her watch told her that Ethan would arrive any second to take Tyler to the game. She could go for a walk while they were gone. Clear her head.

Fifteen minutes later, she'd gotten through yet another awkward meeting with Ethan, confirmed when he would bring Tyler back, done her best not to notice how great he looked in jeans and a sweatshirt, then watched them drive away.

And then it hit her. She wasn't Tyler's only parent anymore. Suddenly it wasn't just going to be her and her son ever again. There would be someone else involved. Someone else in on the decisions.

A worry for another day, she told herself. After shoving a few dollars, a credit card and her cell phone into her pocket, she locked the front door of the house and started toward town. Three blocks later, she was walking through Fool's Gold, noticing the new businesses and old. Morgan's Books was still there. She remembered the owner from when she'd been growing up. She'd spent hours scanning new titles, writing down which ones she wanted the library to order.

Morgan had been a kind man who'd never minded the time she'd spent, despite the fact that she hadn't bought a single book. Driven by guilt and maybe a little curiosity as to whether or not he stocked her books, she crossed the street. Before she could step into the store, she saw a window display of her latest hardcover. There was a poster of the cover, a good-sized picture of her, a list of several flattering reviews and a banner proclaiming her a “local author.”

Liz blinked at the display, not sure what to make of it. She'd never hidden where she'd grown up, but she'd never mentioned it, either. There hadn't been any special events here in town, no book signings. Still, Morgan was treating her like a star.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The space was as light and bright as she remembered. There were books everywhere and immediately her fingers itched to hold and open every volume.

She loved books—the weight and smell of them, the feel of the paper against her skin. While an elec
tronic reader took up less room than a stack of books, she had never been able to make the transition. She was a book person.

Morgan's had a big table displaying new books. Hers sat in the middle, the new hardcover and all four of her backlist books. Several customers browsed. No one seemed to notice her.

If this had been any other bookstore, she would have walked to the information desk and introduced herself, then offered to sign any stock. But this was Fool's Gold and somehow the regular rules didn't apply.

Before she could decide what to do, an older woman glanced up and saw her. The woman's eyebrows went up.

“You're Liz Sutton,” the woman said in a loud voice. “Oh my God! Morgan! You'll never guess who just walked into your store.”

Morgan, a tall older man with dark skin and warm brown eyes, stepped from behind the counter and paused at the sight of Liz. A moment later he winked at her. “I have three new books on horses.”

She laughed. The summer she'd turned twelve, she'd been obsessed with horses. Probably because being on one meant the illusion of freedom and being able to ride away. She'd come into his store nearly every day to ask if he had any new books on horses.

“I'll have to check them out,” she said and crossed to him.

She'd meant to offer her hand to shake, but somehow she found herself hugging him.

“Welcome back, Liz,” he murmured, squeezing her, then holding her at arm's length and smiling. “You've made us all proud. Your books are really good.”

She felt both pleased and a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

The older woman reached for Liz's hand. “I'm Sally Banfield. You were in school with my daughter, Michelle. I'm a huge fan. I couldn't believe it five years ago when Morgan told me you'd written a book. I read it and I was hooked. Your detective is one of my favorite characters ever. She's just like the people I know, only a little smarter. But she's real. With problems and everything. I felt so bad her boyfriend got killed in the last book. But he died trying to save her life. It was so romantic. My husband won't even pick up his own socks, let alone die for anyone.”

Sally frowned. “I don't think that came out right.”

“I know what you meant,” Liz offered, knowing any fan was a good fan.

“Have you moved back to Fool's Gold?” Sally asked.

“I, ah, I'm here for a few weeks.”

“I can't wait to tell all my friends I really met you.” Sally raced toward the door. “You've made my day.”

“Thank you.”

When she left, Morgan smiled again. “She means well.”

“I know. And I really do appreciate the enthusiasm.” Liz was willing to overlook the fact that Sally's daughter Michelle had been one of Liz's tormentors.

She pointed at the window display. “Thank you for that.”

“You write a great book and everyone wants to hear about a hometown girl doing well. You're famous here.”

Something Liz had never considered. Her only concern when she'd found out she had to come back had been avoiding Ethan. Now she had to deal with the reality of interacting with an entire town.

“Famous being relative,” she corrected with a laugh.

“We're having our annual book festival in a couple of months. I provide most of the books through the store. If you're still around, we'd love you to sign.” He winked again. “Our local authors tend to be self-published, with an emphasis on crafts and legends.”

She had no intention of being anywhere near Fool's Gold in two months, but Morgan had always been kind to her, so she didn't want to be rude.

“You're saying you'll make more on my books,” she teased.

“You know me. It's all about the bottom line,” he joked.

“My plans aren't set, but if I'm here, I'll sign.”

“I won't say anything until you're sure. Otherwise Pia O'Brian will have you leading a parade.”

“Why would Pia care?”

“She's in charge of all the festivals in town. She coordinates the special events and picnics. The book festival is one of her major fundraisers for the town.”

Oh, goodie, she thought glumly. Because Pia was exactly the person she wanted to see.

“I appreciate your discretion.”

A mother with two teenaged daughters walked into the store. Liz ducked behind them, waved at Morgan and left. She'd barely walked down the three steps to the sidewalk when she had to shift suddenly to avoid running into two women walking together.

“Excuse me,” Liz said, her attention still on the bookstore.

“Liz?” a familiar and unwelcome voice asked. “Liz Sutton?”

Liz held in a groan as she turned and met Pia O'Brian's surprised gaze. Pia who had taunted her daily all through high school. Pia who had mocked her clothes, her love of books, her reputation.

The woman next to Pia squealed. “Liz Sutton? I'm such a huge fan!”

Liz glanced at her, then wished she had stayed home. The squealer was one of Ethan's sisters, although she had no idea which one. Not that it mattered. Whatever fanlike feelings his sister might have now would be squashed the second she found out about Tyler.

“Hi,” Liz said weakly, doing her best to smile when what she really wanted to do was run. She looked at Ethan's sister. “I'm sorry, I know you're one of Ethan's sisters…”

“Montana.”

“I can't believe you're here,” Pia commented, still looking as stylish as ever. Her hair was a little shorter and she looked more twenty-something than teen-
queen. Otherwise, she was as perfect as she'd been twelve years ago. “When did you get back? And aren't you famous? What are you doing here?”

“She's beyond famous,” Montana gushed. “I can't believe it. I work at the library part-time. My boss is going to flip when I tell her you're here.”

Montana was pretty and dark-haired with a sensual smile and a curvy body that made Liz feel just a little inadequate. She didn't look anything like the stereotype of a quiet librarian.

“It's a temp job,” Montana admitted, at Liz's questioning look. “While I figure out what to do with my life. I actually have a degree in Broadcast Journalism. I went to L.A. to be in the news, but I couldn't find a job beyond making coffee. Plus, it's just too big-city there for me. I also work part-time at the paper. I do some reporting and…”

Montana reached for Pia and clutched her arm. “Oh, God! The book festival. Liz can be our headliner.” She turned her wide, dark eyes on Liz. “You
have
to say yes. I swear if I have to put out another display of easy crafts with twigs and branches, I'll die. Or at the very least lose my sense of humor. You would be a huge draw. Everyone knows you locally, and we could get some real press. Don't you think Liz would be great?”

“Sure,” Pia responded, studying Liz. “Assuming Liz wants to participate.”

“Of course she does.” Montana glanced at her. “Don't you?”

“Liz is a big-time author,” Pia acknowledged, her expression unreadable. “
New York Times
bestsellers in hardcover. A little out of our league.”

Liz couldn't tell if Pia was helping her or not.

Montana glanced at her watch and groaned. “Well, you can convince her because I have to be at the library in five minutes.” She grinned at Liz. “Welcome back. I love your books. We should get together and talk.”

And then Montana was hurrying away, leaving Liz alone with Pia.

Pia smiled. “Montana is the most enthusiastic person I know, and that's saying something. While we'd love to have you sign at the festival, you were looking a little trapped. How about if I schedule time to give you my best pitch but I promise not to be offended if you refuse? Not that I won't call your publicist and beg.”

Liz didn't understand. Pia was being…nice. Pia was never nice. “I don't know if I'll still be in town,” Liz said slowly. “I'm not sure how long I'm staying.”

“You could come back for the signing. Make a weekend of it.” She laughed. “No pressure, I swear. So how are you? I haven't seen you in forever. It's been what? Eleven or twelve years since you were last here?”

“Something like that. You're still in the neighborhood?” Liz did her best to make sure the question sounded as if she were interested rather than judging.

“They can't get rid of me, although they keep trying.” Pia grinned. “Actually, except for college, I
never left. Like Montana, I'm a small-town girl. Unlike her, I've found what I want to do.”

“I heard you plan all the festivals.”

“I'm Fool's Gold's party girl, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

It wasn't anything Liz could have imagined the other woman doing. Pia had seemed more like someone who would marry well and join the ladies-who-lunch crowd.

“You look great,” Pia told her. “I've seen your pictures on the books, but they're different. More, what? Formal?”

“Stern,” Liz admitted. “What I write requires me to look serious in my pictures.”

“You probably wouldn't sell as many books if you appeared in taffeta and a pink boa.”

“Exactly.” Liz found herself relaxing a little. A lot of time had passed. Maybe they'd both changed and grown up. “Are you married?”

“No. I've never been very good at taking care of things. Although I'm looking after a cat for a friend and that seems to be going well.” Pia frowned. “At least I think it is. He hasn't tried to kill me in my sleep and just last week he let me pet him. Well, it was more an accidental brush of my hand against his back, but we're making progress. You?”

“I don't have a cat.” Liz smiled. “Never married, either.”

“Really? But you've always been so beautiful. Back in high school, the guys practically killed themselves
trying to get you to notice them. You left the rest of us semi-normal girls feeling like trolls. It was very depressing.”

Liz felt her smile fade as she stared at the other woman. “Is that what you thought? The guys wanted my attention?”