Package Deal (2 page)

The high-pitched whine of the engines invaded the solitude of her headset, and Kelly watched the landscape blur past as the huge craft gained forward momentum. The nose lifted skyward, and the plane shot through the glistening clouds. Water streaked the windows then sunlight poured into the cabin. She turned away, her eyes tearing. Fighting the sadness she carried inside, she reminded herself she would be in Daytona Beach in a few hours, where a whole new life would open up for her and Lacy. Until that time, she would let nothing bother her. Nothing!

She snapped the window shade shut. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and bit back a surprising surge of resentment. It wasn’t the man beside her she resented but the loneliness creeping back into her heart.

Chapter Two

F
ollowing the large arrows on the overhead signs, Kelly made her way to baggage claim. The flight had been dreadful. Mechanical problems had forced an unscheduled landing in New Orleans where they spent an hour waiting for repairs. When they finally arrived, it was one a.m. Florida time, and she was a little rough around the edges.

She picked her way through the weary travelers gathered around the conveyor, watching luggage burp up from a room behind the far wall. She spotted her suitcase, a beige wheeled upright that stuck out among the sea of black bags like a blonde in the Hong Kong airport. With a groan, she hauled her bag from the moving conveyor and headed toward the exit. Kelly offered her claim ticket to the attendant dozing against the wall. He waved her through without looking up, and she followed the signs to the rental car desks.

Bone tired, she swore the stupid bag was heavier than when she left the apartment. Even her purse and overnight tote dug into her shoulders. Apparently she’d been too preoccupied in San Francisco to notice. She always packed more than she needed, and her biceps would, no doubt, attest to the fact in the morning.

Harassing her about packing a month’s worth of clothes for a quick weekend in the mountains had been her brother’s favorite pastime. Crazy, sweet Robby. He would roll over in his grave if he’d seen the mountain of stuff she’d squeezed into her suitcase for this ten-day stint in Daytona.

Shifting her purse and overnight bag to opposite shoulders, she continued toward the airport lobby, scanning the various overhead signs for the Budget rental counter. That’s when she noticed him, heading straight toward her.

His gaze locked on her face and his lips parted in an amused grin. It was the guy from the airplane, on his way to collect his luggage. Her breath slipped from her throat.

“Need some help?” His green eyes, flashed, but no way was she giving him the sign to go.

“No, thanks. I can manage,” she said, denying both her weariness and her attraction to this handsome stranger. She dragged her gaze from his tan face, the perfect shape of his firm lips leaving a poisonous residue lingering in her mind. Like Robby’s, his sandy, sun-streaked hair feathered over his ears, dredging up painful memories of her brother, now gone. And, like her ex-husband, Ken, this guy was too good-looking, and that was reason enough to put some starch in Kelly’s attitude.

His grin deepened. “You look tired. It’s late. Can I drop you somewhere?”

Much as she liked the idea, she wasn’t getting into a car with him—ever. “Thanks, but I need a rental car while I’m here.”

“Right. Well, have a nice stay.” He strode off toward the baggage claim area.

She watched him walk away, astonished at how well he’d held up after the long trip—shirt still crisp, his short-sleeves showing-off well defined arms and an unseasonable tan—in contrast to herself, who resembled something dragged from the bottom of a bag lady’s shopping cart. Life just wasn’t fair.

Now and then Kelly had met men she instinctively knew kicked dogs and delighted in intimidating women. For whatever it was worth, she sensed this guy was different. Nothing shallow or slick, or macho about him—not that showed anyway—and that scared her. Even scarier, she caught herself peering over her shoulder at his backside, thinking
nice butt
. A sure sign of trouble.

You’re losing it, girl.

She gave her bag an exaggerated yank and staggered forward, legs bent at the knees by its weight. His expression, friendly and inviting, had reinforced her belief that the safest thing to keep between them was space. She’d spent a lot of lonely nights since her divorce and hadn’t looked twice at a guy in five years, but the last few months…and her tearful moment on the plane…well, her growing vulnerability troubled her.

Pride riding high, she finally spotted the rental car counter. Half walking, half shuffling, she kept her eyes on the red and white Budget Rent-A-Car sign, while praying for deliverance and swearing the stupid suitcase gained another pound with each inch of progress she made.

At the counter, she found her vehicle choices limited because of the late hour. There were two vehicles left, a Mitsubishi sports model, and a Chevy Impala. She owned an old Toyota, which got her where she wanted to go, though she wouldn’t brag about it.
 
For fun, she rented the Mitsubishi.

The clerk winked. “That’s a fast car.”

“I think I can handle it.” She envisioned herself hurtling along the ocean road at mind-boggling speed, dodging gray haired ladies who struggled to see over the wheels of their ancient, rusting Oldsmobiles. She broke into a smile, amused by the picture in her head.

The average age of Daytona’s licensed drivers was near sixty, and the resulting speed of traffic on a fast day might reach thirty-five miles per hour. Although known to college students across the country for being a fast paced, party town, in reality, Daytona Beach was a sleepy laid back beach town with virtually no super highways or traffic, and with less hubbub than the average Midwest farm town, except, of course, during Spring Break and Bike Week, when all the locals evacuated.

She picked up a street map and, after locating the car in an adjacent lot, found her way to A1A, the beach highway. She drove north to Ormond Beach and to her room reserved at The Glades, a cluster of small, beachfront cottages with kitchenettes. A1A wound north and south along the Florida coast, littered by an endless string of condos, motels, and hotels. The strip was colorful by day, neon by night—a tourist haven for old and young alike.

A glaring string of flashing lights guided her through Daytona’s hotel district. Her directions to The Glades were simple. Past the strip to Granada Boulevard, and then continue four miles further north. The Glades would be on the right. No turns. No hunting for street signs.

She pulled into the motel just as the green fluorescent numbers on the car clock flipped over to one fifty-five a.m. After checking in, she located her assigned cottage and dragged her bag through the open doorway. The bag landed with a thud on the linoleum floor. She closed the door behind her, and slowly looked around, considering her temporary home. It wasn’t fancy, but since she would be in Daytona for ten days on her own dollar the price was right. Besides, a standard motel room wasn’t much bigger than a closet when compared to the cottage, which consisted of a small living room, a bedroom, a bathroom—furnishings circa 1960—and a boxy little kitchen with the bare essentials. A window air conditioner hummed on the far wall, and a chorus-line of invisible crickets sawed out a snappy welcome.

She crossed to the picture window and pulled open the rubber-lined drapes, stirring the warm air behind them and releasing a musty odor into the room. Florida’s humidity spawned
every mold and mildew known to science. Even the introduction of air-conditioning hadn’t eliminated the alien green stuff from growing in the corners of shower stalls across the state.

Outside, a full moon lit the sky, connecting heaven and water and frosting the waves moving inland to pound the shore. She tingled all over with excitement. She couldn’t believe she was really here. She cranked open the old-fashioned jalousie windows, inviting the ocean breeze into the room. She was so close to the ocean she could hear the waves crashing against the sand before retreating back out to sea.

She breathed a contented sigh. Florida offered her and Lacy a chance for a new beginning. San Francisco just held too many unhappy memories for her.

The back door led to a small porch facing the ocean. She gave the doorknob a tug, but the wood had long ago swollen against the frame from humidity. After a second pull, the door gave a stubborn groan and scraped across the floor.

Outside, she followed a narrow path through the thick brush out onto the dunes and stood in silence, overlooking the tidewaters. A gentle breeze blew inland rustling the thick grasses carpeting the dunes.
 
Florida’s humid air caressed her skin.

Kicking off her heels, she burrowed her toes into the cool, powder-soft sand. She glanced around, and spotting no one, stripped off her panty hose. She fought the urge to throw them into the sea, knowing she wouldn’t be wearing them any time soon. Not in Florida. She planned on getting a tan.

She closed her eyes, breathing-in the heavy salt air. Oh, she wanted to stay here forever. No shadows, no memories to haunt her at every turn. Lacy would love it, too. She could swim, build sand castles, and dig for sand crabs. Together they could walk the beach and fish—yes, fish! She hadn’t fished since her childhood. It was one of the last things she and her father had done together, before she’d been left in the wake of his new family. But that was the past. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking with the sound of the waves. She could almost feel the gooey worm wiggling between her fingers and the elation of the catch.

Now she and Lacy would be a lot closer to her mom, who lived with Kelly’s aunt in North Carolina. Unlike the sky-high airfare between San Francisco and Raleigh, Daytona to Raleigh was a quick, inexpensive flight. If Lacy didn’t have a father, Kelly would see to it that her daughter had a grandmother.

Overwhelmed by fatigue, she picked up her shoes and stockings and stepped back inside, trading the warm, humid air outside for the cool, musty air of the room. She closed the window and drew the drapes, knowing morning would come soon enough. She would have plenty of time to enjoy the ocean later.

Forever, she hoped.

Too tired to unpack, she scouted out an iron and ironing board to press out the wrinkles in her suit in the morning. Digging through her carry-on bag, she found her toothbrush and toothpaste, brushed her teeth, stripped off her clothes, and climbed into bed wearing only her underpants and camisole. She nestled deep beneath the cool sheets and light blanket, hoping to fall asleep quickly. It was already two thirty, and her meeting with the Editor in Chief of the
News Journal
required that she be rested and alert first thing in the morning.

Her resume impressive, she’d landed the job with ease, but she was well aware that first impressions counted. Fatigue and slow thinking would not be acceptable tomorrow—the first day of the rest of her life.