Once in a Blue Moon (7 page)

“Lucky you.” Kerrie Ann wondered what it would have been like to have had a real mom and dad. All she’d known was a succession of foster parents who’d ranged from well-meaning to plain mean.

But if Lindsay detected any bitterness in her voice, she didn’t comment on it. “Yes, I was lucky,” she said. “I had fifteen wonderful years with them.”

“You must miss them.”

“More than you know. I owe them so much. They saved me, in a way.” Kerrie Ann gave a pained smile, all too aware that she stood as an example of how her sister’s life might have turned out had the circumstances been different. “Ted was a biology professor. He used to take me on these long nature walks. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized he wasn’t just teaching me about nature; he was letting me know, simply by being there, that it was safe to trust other people. And my mom—well, there was no one quite like her. She was the gentlest person I ever met.”

For Kerrie Ann it was like hearing about life on Mars. Growing up, the closest she’d come to a meaningful relationship with an adult was with David French, her foster father when she was twelve. He used to take her out for ice cream and talk to her about things—adult things. Then one day, as she sat beside him licking her cone, he asked if she’d ever been kissed by a boy. Shocked not so much by the question as by the fact of his asking her, she told the truth: “Bobby Winston kissed me once on the lips.” David smiled as if they were sharing a secret and, when she was done with her cone, asked if he could braid her hair. She let him, but it creeped her out so much that she made excuses after that whenever he tried to get her to go off alone with him. A few months later she was sent to live with another family.

“What did she do for a living?” asked Kerrie Ann.

“She was a teacher—she taught music at our local high school and gave piano lessons on the side. She had also had this amazing gift of being able to talk to anyone, any age, and have that person instantly feel like she was their friend. She always knew the right thing to say, and when it was best to say nothing at all.” Lindsay’s smile turned wistful. “They would have been so happy to know I’d found you. They always hoped I would.” She picked up a framed photo off her desk, holding it out for Kerrie Ann to see. “I took this of them a few months after we moved here.” The photo showed a pair of long-haired academic types posing hand in hand on the beach, he with wire-rimmed glasses and a graying ponytail, she a dead ringer for June Carter Cash. They were smiling the easy smiles of people with nothing to hide and few regrets. “They always said it was their favorite picture of themselves.”

A seed of envy cracked open inside Kerrie Ann, quickly blooming into a noxious weed. Her sister hadn’t just caught the brass ring; she’d gotten the whole frigging merry-go-round, while Kerrie Ann had been shuttled around like a hockey puck. “Technically, you didn’t find me. I found you,” she pointed out.

“A good thing, too. I’d just about given up hope. All those years, all those dead ends.”
She must have loved me at one time
, thought Kerrie Ann with wonderment. She couldn’t remember ever having been loved as a child. “I managed to get hold of your records from Children’s Services, so I had addresses and phone numbers for your foster parents—the ones who hadn’t moved, at least—but they weren’t much help. I even tracked down your driver’s license, only the address on it turned out to be an old one. When I phoned your landlord, he seemed eager to get a hold of you, too. Something about back rent you owed?” Kerrie Ann felt her face grow hot under her sister’s probing gaze. “Then, out of the blue, you turn up on my doorstep.” Lindsay shook her head, as if in disbelief at the irony.

“Like a bad penny,” Kerrie Ann said with a self-effacing laugh.

“Why do you say that?” Lindsay frowned.

“You might not be so happy to have me back in your life once you get to know me.”

No sooner were the words out than Kerrie Ann wanted to snatch them back. What she’d meant to say was that she hoped they could become friends. Instead she was doing what she always did in a new situation: putting up walls and putting herself down. The years of being bounced from one home to the next, of always being the new kid in school, had taught her that it was better to reject before she could be rejected. And by putting herself down before someone else could, she could come across as dryly sardonic rather than the object of derision. It made for fewer friends, true, but it kept her from getting hurt.

“You’re my sister,” Lindsay said, as if that simple fact were all that mattered. But she sounded a bit apprehensive nonetheless.

Kerrie Ann put down her coffee cup and reached for her purse. “Mind if I smoke?”

Lindsay hesitated before replying, “We could go outside if you like. There’s a service area out back.”

“Never mind. It can wait.” Kerrie Ann spoke more curtly than she’d intended. Her sister was trying, but it did nothing to ease her growing discomfort.

An awkward silence fell.

“I wonder what’s keeping Miss Honi,” Lindsay said, glancing at her watch.

Miss Honi. There was another mystery. “So what’s the deal with her, anyway?” asked Kerrie Ann. “Is she related to us, or what?”

“Not by blood. But she was the closest thing. She used to babysit you when you were little.”

Kerrie Ann was reminded once more of her recurring dream. “So you stayed in touch with her all these years?”

“Not in the beginning. I tried sending her a letter once, but it was returned. She’d moved away, too, and hadn’t left a forwarding address. I didn’t even know her real name—just the stage name she went by. I never forgot about her, though, and used to wonder what had become of her.” Lindsay picked up a shiny brass paperweight off her desk, idly turning it over in her hand. “Then one day I came across this newspaper article about a retirement home for former show folk in Carson City. On a hunch, I phoned the director and asked if a Miss Honi Love was living there. By sheer luck, it turned out she was. So I flew out for a visit, and the next thing I knew I was inviting her to come stay with me. That was six years ago. She’s been with me ever since. Frankly, I don’t know how I’d manage without her.”

“So it’s just the two of you?”

“Plus a dog and two cats. We live just up the coast. My parents left me a house and twenty acres. You should see the view.” Lindsay, as if not wanting to give the wrong impression, was quick to add, “They never could’ve afforded it at today’s prices. They bought it when land around here was dirt cheap.”

“Sounds awesome.” Kerrie Ann recalled the articles that had popped up when she’d Googled her sister’s name, about some hotel group wanting to buy her out so it could put up a resort. But since Lindsay hadn’t mentioned it, she decided not to bring up what was undoubtedly a sore subject.

Lindsay must have been thinking about it anyway, because she lapsed into silence for a moment, wearing a preoccupied look. At last she brought her gaze back to Kerrie Ann. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourself. I want to know all about you.”

“What do you want to know?” Kerrie Ann shifted in her seat, craving a cigarette more than ever.

“Everything! So far all I know is that you’ve traveled around a lot and that you take your coffee black.”

Kerrie Ann gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Are you married?”

“Nope.” Kerrie Ann fiddled with the rhinestone-studded heart on a chain around her neck, a long-ago gift from Jeremiah. She wasn’t sure why she still wore it. Habit, she supposed, or maybe sentiment. “What about you?” she inquired before Lindsay could ask if she had any kids. She wasn’t ready to get into that just yet.

Lindsay shook her head. “I was engaged once, just out of college, but it didn’t work out. Now I’m afraid my life’s a little too complicated for most men, including my current boyfriend.” She studied her hands a moment, as if contemplating the absence of a ring. But when she looked up, her expression was untroubled. Either she was happy being single . . . or hiding something. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what sort of work do you do?”

Kerrie Ann shifted her gaze to the cup of coffee growing cold at her feet. Talking about herself was like picking her way over a minefield, trying to decide which aspects of her past were safe to reveal and which were best skirted. “I’m in retail,” she said, leaving it vague. “But I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t an outright lie, although she hadn’t officially given notice. She’d merely told her boss she needed time off to take care of personal business. Her future, at this point, was in Lindsay’s hands. Would her sister be willing to take her in? Vouch for her when it came time to go to court? It was a lot to ask.

“Oh, well. I’m sure something will turn up.” Lindsay spoke with the nonchalance of someone who’d never had to worry about such things. “There’s always a job for someone with a good head on her shoulders.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t go to college like you, so I wouldn’t know about that,” Kerrie Ann retorted. She’d meant it to sound ironic, but it came out sounding bitter and resentful. The story of her life: Act first, pay later. Fearful of getting off on the wrong foot, she was quick to clarify: “Hey, no offense. I just meant that for some of us, it’s not that easy.”

Unexpectedly Lindsay’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I know you had it rough growing up. I wish I could’ve been there for you.”

Kerrie Ann ducked her head, feeling embarrassed. Her life might suck, but she didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all her more successful sister’s. “I don’t know what you could’ve done. I guess nobody asked us what we wanted, right?”

She glanced up to find her sister still eyeing her sadly. “No, they didn’t.” Then Lindsay brightened and said, “Well, now that you’re here, let’s make the most of it. You haven’t booked a hotel yet, have you?” Kerrie Ann shook her head. “Good. In that case, why don’t you stay with Miss Honi and me? I insist on it, in fact. We have so much to catch up on!”

Kerrie Ann leapt at the invitation. “I’d like that.” Lindsay might not be so excited to have her stay once she learned the real reason for her visit, but what better way to get a foot in the door?

Miss Honi appeared just then, bearing a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. She held it out to Kerrie Ann, urging, “Go on, one won’t kill you. Ollie said to tell you that if you’re anything like your sister, he’ll have to look for another job. Someplace where he’s appreciated.”

Lindsay laughed. “He has a thing against skinny women who are always on a diet.”

“Amen to that,” said Miss Honi, reaching for a cookie.

Kerrie Ann helped herself to one as well. “Tell him not to worry. I never count calories.” She took a bite and at once forgot about the cigarette she’d been craving. It was the best chocolate-chip cookie she’d ever tasted, soft and chewy at the same time, bursting with a subtle mix of flavors. She looked up at Miss Honi. “Ollie made these? They’re amazing.”

Miss Honi beamed as though she’d baked the cookies herself. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment. As if you didn’t already make his day just walking in the door.”

Kerrie Ann saw her sister’s brows shoot up. Did Lindsay disapprove of the way she looked? She’d wanted to make a good impression, so she’d worn her best outfit, only now she wasn’t so sure . . .

But there was only warmth in Lindsay’s voice when she said to Miss Honi, “I was just telling Kerrie Ann that she’s welcome to stay with us.”

“Where else?” declared Miss Honi as if there had never been any question in her mind where Kerrie Ann would stay. “She can have my room.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” said Kerrie Ann. “Really, I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.”

“No one’s going to be sleeping on the sofa,” interjected Lindsay. She turned to Kerrie Ann. “There’s a daybed in my room.” She’d had it installed while her mother was ill so she could stay with her at night, she explained. “As long as you don’t mind bunking in with me.”

Kerrie Ann assured Lindsay that any bed would suit her just fine. She was thinking of the years she’d spent on the road, when her bed had been wherever she could find a place to crash, often with some guy she’d met along the way.

“You’ll stay for dinner, too,” said Lindsay. “A nice quiet evening, just the three of us. It’ll give us a chance to get reacquainted.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” said Miss Honi.

Lindsay eyed her in confusion, then groaned. “The party.” She turned to Kerrie Ann, explaining, “My boyfriend is having some people over tonight. I told him we’d come—Miss Honi and I. But I can always call and cancel. I’m sure he’ll understand once I tell him the reason.”

“Or you could call and tell him you’re bringing an extra guest,” suggested Miss Honi. “It’d give us a chance to introduce your sister around, show her off a bit.” She helped herself to another cookie, chomping down on it with relish, blissfully ignorant of the stricken look on Lindsay’s face.

“I don’t know . . .” Lindsay cast a worried glance at Kerrie Ann. “All those people. We wouldn’t have much chance to talk.”

Suddenly Kerrie Ann understood: Her sister was embarrassed by her. That was why she was making excuses not to take her to the party. The realization brought a hot surge of shame before defiance kicked in. “Actually, it sounds like fun,” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m always up for a party.” The truth was, she seldom went to parties these days unless they were sober functions. But she’d be damned if she’d be hidden away like some ugly stepchild.

“That settles it, then.” Miss Honi popped the last piece of cookie into her mouth.

Lindsay didn’t say anything more, but her strained smile spoke for itself.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

D
EAR
G
OD, A PARTY
on top of everything else?
Lindsay was still struggling to reconcile the two Kerrie Anns: the pierced, tattooed woman and the little girl she’d known. And now to be plunged into a social setting with clients and business associates of Grant’s, having to make bright cocktail chatter while making sure her sister felt included? Her head spun just thinking about it.

There was another problem: The whole dramatic story of their reunion was sure to come out. Until now, only those closest to Lindsay, like Ollie and his mom and a handful of others, had known her history. No one else even knew she had a sister or that Miss Honi was anything but an old family friend. But tonight all that ugliness from her past would be on display, as if she were appearing on one of those ghastly let-it-all-hang-out talk shows she abhorred. People with whom she was barely acquainted would know about their mother’s prison record and that she and her sister had been placed in foster care.

Besides, was it too much to ask that, after twenty-five years, she have her sister to herself for just one night?

Apparently so. Lindsay had been surprised and, yes, a bit hurt when Kerrie Ann had jumped at the chance to go to a party instead of spending some quiet time at home with her and Miss Honi. How was chitchatting with a bunch of strangers preferable to getting to know your long-lost sister? They had so much to catch up on—a lifetime’s worth.

One thing was already abundantly clear: There was a world of difference between her and her sister. Lindsay had seen it the moment she’d laid eyes on Kerrie Ann, even before she’d known who the pink-haired woman was: She’d led a hard life. Lindsay only knew what she’d gleaned through the years—the succession of foster homes, a dozen in all, culminating in Kerrie Ann’s running away at the age of sixteen—but it was obvious her sister had had a rough go of it. Lindsay had seen that same look of defeat mixed with stubborn pride in the faces of the people she’d met through the literacy program she was involved in, people who’d been deprived as children—and not just of an education.

At the same time, Lindsay could see glimpses of the Kerrie Ann she’d known. She just had to find a way to get to her. Even if it meant bowing to her sister’s wishes in this instance.

“Right,” she said briskly. “I’ll call Grant and let him know. Did you bring anything to wear? If not, we can probably find something in my closet that’ll fit you.” Though a few inches taller, Kerrie Ann looked to be about the same size as she.

Kerrie Ann regarded her dubiously, as if wondering what, in Lindsay’s closet, could possibly be her style. “I’m sure I can throw something together,” she said.

“Just between you and me, sugar, if it’s drop-dead you’re looking for, you’d best go hunting in my closet,” said Miss Honi. At the warning glance Lindsay shot her, she tossed back, “Now, don’t you go looking at me like that, missy. It don’t hurt to strut your stuff when you got something to strut. If the good Lord wanted us gals looking like a pillow with the stuffing knocked out of it, He wouldn’t have built us the way He did.” She threw out her chest and ran her hands down her own not inconsiderable curves, eliciting a giggle from Kerrie Ann.

Lindsay kept her voice light as she replied, “Well, then, you two can be the peacocks, and I’ll be the plain old sparrow. Lucky for me, my boyfriend likes me the way I am. Even without the stuffing.” She cast a rueful downward glance at her own more understated bosom.

She was rising to her feet, reluctant to get back to work but knowing she’d go broke that much quicker if she didn’t—there was probably a line at the register by now—when Miss Honi suggested, “Ladies, what do you say we head back to the house now? We can crack open a bottle of wine and kick back for some good old-fashioned girl talk before the party.”

Lindsay arched a brow. “And just what do you suggest we do, leave our customers to the honor system?”

“Ollie can mind the store—it’s just for a few hours,” said Miss Honi. “He’s got enough energy for three people, that boy.”

“He might have the energy of three people, but he can’t be in three places at once.” Lindsay shook her head. “No, I’ll stay. Why don’t you two go on ahead? I’ll catch up with you later on.” She tried to sound cheerful but couldn’t help feeling left out when Kerrie Ann didn’t offer to stick around and keep her company. Clearly she preferred Miss Honi’s company.

“We can take my car,” volunteered Kerrie Ann.

It was only then that Lindsay remembered her own car was in the shop. She’d dropped it off that morning on her way to work to have it serviced and was supposed to have picked it up on her lunch break. In all the excitement, it had slipped her mind. Now a glance at her watch told her it would have to wait until tomorrow; the mechanic, Mr. Mahmud, closed early on Mondays.

She almost said something but in the end decided not to. She could always catch a ride home with Ollie. No sense raining on their parade.

Kerrie Ann must have sensed something amiss because she paused to eye Lindsay thoughtfully on her way out, as if there were something more she wanted to say. Then the moment passed and she was gone, leaving Lindsay to wonder what role, if any, she would be playing in her sister’s life. Would they grow closer over time as they grew more comfortable with each other, or would their relationship merely be one of getting together once or twice a year and exchanging cards at Christmas? For once she wished she could be more like Miss Honi. The old woman had taken Kerrie Ann into her arms and given her a good Texas-sized hug while Lindsay hadn’t even recognized her own sister.

At the same time, a tiny splinter of worry pricked at her. She remembered Kerrie Ann’s facetious remark about being a bad penny. Suppose it was no joke? Would the fulfillment of her wish become a case of being careful what you wish for?

“Thanks again for the ride, Ollie. I know it’s out of your way,” said Lindsay as they rattled over the private road to her house. It was late in the day, the sun a golden rind peeking over the fog bunched along the horizon. They’d been delayed by a last-minute influx of customers, those who hadn’t heard about tomorrow’s event being canceled and who’d wanted to snag a copy of
Blood Money
before they were all sold—the second time that day she’d been inconvenienced by the no-show Randall Craig. Now she’d have to hustle to make it to the party on time.

Ollie, his hands loosely curled around the steering wheel of his Willys, the World War II–era jeep he and his dad had restored, replied amiably, “No problemo. Hey, it’s not like I have anything lined up for tonight. Not that I’d turn down an invitation to some cool party, even if it was, like, last-minute,” he hinted broadly.

Lindsay cast him an indulgent smile. “Forget it. The last thing I need is to show up with an entourage.” It was enough that she would have her sister and Miss Honi in tow.

“What, you’d deny me the chance to meet the love of my life? What if the perfect woman happens to be there, just waiting for a guy like me to show up?” He gave her a pleading look, which, with his big brown eyes and wide, mobile mouth, his hair even more wild than usual from the air blowing in through the window, only made him look like a shaggy dog begging for treats.

“I hate to break it to you, Ollie, but Julia Child’s no longer with us,” she informed him, doing her best to keep a straight face. “Besides, the only women who’ll be at the party are clients’ wives.”

“Go on, mock me,” he said in an injured tone as he slowed to ease the Willys over a pothole. “Why should you take me seriously? No one else does. Around here I’m just the muffin man.”

“Who happens to make the meanest muffins in town.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather be known as a stud muffin,” he continued in the same vein. “My problem is, I’m too freaking
nice
.” He spoke the word as if it were an insult. “In school? I was always the one the girls confided to about other guys, the ones they liked. The way I see it, girls don’t want nice, they want six-pack abs and day-old stubble. You know, the type of guy who’d rather have his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his arm than have a meaningful conversation with her. Who keeps nothing but beer and maybe some thousand-year-old Chinese takeout in his fridge.”

Lindsay refrained from reminding him of the time he’d come dangerously close to being that kind of guy.

“If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, it’s not working,” she told him. “And for your information, there’s nothing wrong with the way you are. I’ll take nice any day over six-pack abs and stubble. Though I suppose my opinion doesn’t count, since I’m so ancient.”

He grinned, going along with the joke. “I happen to like older women. Take your sister, for instance—she’s hot. Seriously, I can’t believe you guys are related.” He caught himself, his cheeks reddening. “Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was that you’re nothing alike. It’s like you grew up on separate planets or something.”

“It certainly feels that way,” Lindsay confessed.

“You must’ve about shit a brick when she dropped in like that, out of the blue.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well, if
my
opinion counts, I think she’s awesome.” He paused before asking, with a casualness belied by the deepening color in his cheeks, “You wouldn’t happen to know if she has a boyfriend?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?” Lindsay was growing uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

“Just curious.” Ollie fell silent for a moment, his porcupine head bobbing as he mulled this over. “It’s just . . . well, I was thinking I’d ask her out. How long is she in town for?”

“I’m not sure—she wasn’t definite. But I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.” No sense in encouraging him. “She’s not your type.”

Ollie grew defensive. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, for one thing she’s older—we’ve already established that.”

“I’m twenty-four. How old is your sister?”

Lindsay did the mental arithmetic. “Twenty-nine.”

“That’s only five years.”

“I’m not just talking about the difference in your ages. She’s had a hard life, Ollie. She’s not . . . well, she isn’t the kind of girl you would have taken to the prom. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” She didn’t want to be unfair to her sister, but Ollie should know the truth.

He wasn’t so easily dissuaded, though. “So she had it rough growing up. That doesn’t make her a bad person.”

“I’m not saying she’s a bad person. I’m just saying she may not be right for you.”

“You mean because she’s not like you?” An edge crept into his voice.

Ollie’s right
, she thought.
I’m measuring her by my own yardstick, which isn’t fair.
Truth to tell, Lindsay was still recovering from the shock of encountering someone who bore no resemblance to the idealized picture in her mind—that of an adult sister with whom she could share confidences and discuss topics of mutual interest. In place of that was someone who, by Kerrie Ann’s own admission, hadn’t cracked a book in years and with whom Lindsay was as likely to share a confidence or an opinion as the same taste in clothing.

Once again she felt a twinge of guilt, wishing she were as accepting as Ollie. But wasn’t she, too, a product of her upbringing? The first twelve years of her life had been about waking up each morning with a vague sense of dread, wondering what fresh ordeal was in store for that day. Was it any wonder she’d grown up needing to be in control? That she had trouble making friends—especially with people whose lives were in disarray? People like her former classmate Susie Larson, who’d recently gotten in touch. Lindsay had listened in sympathy while Susie had described the messy divorce she was going through, but she hadn’t followed up when Susie had suggested they get together. Not because she didn’t feel for Susie but because for her, it would have been like accepting delivery of a suspicious-looking package that might contain an explosive device.