Someone Like You (8 page)

“Send me pictures,” Jill said. “You know I love to keep up.”

“Will do. You hang in there. Call if you need to scream or anything.”

“Promise.”

“Bye.”

Jill hung up and leaned back in her chair. Just thinking about Gracie always made her smile. Those had been some wild, fun times. Even though Gracie had moved away the summer they turned fifteen, they'd stayed close friends.

She glanced at her watch, then at the closed door between her office and Tina's. She might as well ask now, while her assistant/secretary/receptionist was in a good mood. She wanted a ride to her car so she could move it from the baseball practice fields to the grocery store parking lot. She had a plan to park it by the cart return.

 

M
AC SAT
on the corner of the desk at the front of the conference room and took stock of his employees. The Los Lobos sheriff's office wasn't anything like the LAPD. While there wasn't the same level of crime in the two communities, there also weren't the resources for his department. He had ten full-time deputies, three part-timers, one detective, five clerical workers, and four dispatchers, including Wilma, who pretty much ran things.

Most everyone did a good job, some better than others. The only problem he'd found in the three weeks he'd been sheriff was a new deputy named D.J. Webb. D.J. had plenty of attitude but no experience to back it up. Not a combination that made Mac comfortable.

“The tourist season is a little busier than we expected,” Mac said, “but we're handling it. With the
Fourth of July next week, we need to pay attention. The beaches will be crowded as will downtown. This is a time for families. So we'll pick up all the D&Ds and give them some time to sober up. Wilma, we have the extra space reserved?”

“You bet.”

The drunk and disorderlies weren't his only problem. With the crowds came petty criminals, short-tempered drivers searching for parking and the occasional motel robbery.

“We need to remember to be friendly,” Mac said. “Don't go looking for trouble—it will find you soon enough.”

“What if there's a terrorist attack?” D.J. asked.

Wilma snickered and the detective grinned.

“I'm serious,” D.J. said earnestly. “We're not pre pared if a group comes in here with heavy firepower.”

“We're more likely to be held hostage by a band of rogue sharks,” one of the deputies said. “It's Los Lobos, D.J. Lighten up.”

Mac felt the beginnings of a headache—one that would last the entire summer. “We're not a big terrorist target,” he told D.J.

“Not so far as you know. We need to get into those federal databases and figure out what we should be doing.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Mac glanced around the room. “If that's it, check the board in the morning. I'll be posting a new schedule to get us through the holiday week end.”

People stood and left the conference room. Wilma
waited until they were alone, then patted his arm. “D.J.'s gung ho, but he'll grow out of it as he matures.”

“I'm not sure I can wait that long.”

The older woman grinned. “I know for a fact you were once young and foolish.”

“That I'll admit to.”

“Any stories you want to share?”

He laughed. “Sure. When I was seventeen I stole Judge Strathern's Cadillac on a bet.”

“I hadn't heard about that. Did you get caught?”

“Of course. I was young and stupid, right? When the judge came to the jail the next morning I thought he was going to tan my hide. Worse, I was afraid my mother would lose her job—she was his housekeeper.”

Wilma's eyes widened. “What happened?”

“He piled me into the front seat of that car and drove me to Lompoc prison where I spent the day in a cell with a very scary felon. By three-thirty that afternoon, I'd more than seen the error of my ways. On the way back to Los Lobos, the good judge talked to me about staying on the right side of the law and joining the military when I graduated from high school. He pretty much saved my ass.”

“He's a good man,” Wilma said. “As are you. Patience with D.J.”

“I'll try.”

“That's all any of us can do.” She walked toward the door, then paused and glanced at him. “Jill seems a lot like her father in temperament, if not in looks.”

Mac instantly thought of the very hot kiss they'd shared and how the aftereffect had kept him up half the
night. Yeah, she and her dad didn't look anything alike. “They have a few things in common, but she's her own person.”

“She's pretty, too.”

“I hadn't noticed.”

She laughed again. “You're not a good liar, Mac. Don't try to make your living playing poker.”

“Never crossed my mind.”

 

J
ILL RETURNED HOME
at the end of day two in a slightly better mood than at the end of day one. Tina had not only continued to be pleasant, but she'd actually stayed and worked until nearly four. The only black cloud in her otherwise bright blue sky—except for the lying rat weasel dog and her lack of acceptable employment—was the BMW.

There hadn't been a scratch on it. Not a dent, not a hint of any contact at all. It still gleamed like a showroom special. She hoped that a couple of days in the local grocery store parking lot would take care of that.

She entered her aunt's home a little after five. “It's me,” she called.

Bev came out of the kitchen to greet her. “Better?” she asked.

“Not half-bad. Except for being insulted by Pam Whitefield.”

“No one likes her, so her opinion doesn't matter.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Oh, I talked to Gracie. She sent me a ficus tree. She said even I shouldn't be able to kill it.”

“I hope she's right.”

Bev waited until she'd shrugged out of her jacket be fore leading the way back to the kitchen.

“How was your day?” Jill asked.

“Good. Emily and I had a terrific time. We spent the afternoon at the beach. Oh, speaking of which, you know it's nearly the Fourth of July.”

“I'd heard a rumor, yes.”

“Mac has to work so Emily will be joining us on our picnic.”

Jill grabbed a diet soda from the refrigerator and popped the top. “Are we having a picnic?”

“Of course. It's what the holiday is about.”

“Huh, and here I thought it was about celebrating our country's independence.”

“That, too, but how could we celebrate without a picnic?”

“I'm not complaining. I'm sure it will be fun.” Los Lobos was at its best during holidays of any kind.

“Good. Now read this.” She held out a piece of paper.

Jill grabbed it and read the note twice. “Oh, man. Do I have to?”

“The mayor has graciously invited you to join the pier centennial committee meeting tonight. Don't
you
think you should go?”

No. Not even for money. “I'm not going to be here that long. I don't want to get involved in a project and then have to drop it halfway through.”

Bev opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pouch of marinating chicken. “I'm sure if you
keep repeating that, eventually it will sound like the truth.”

“Fine. I don't want to go. I've never been a fan of the pier and the mayor isn't my favorite person. He's smarmy and I think he looks up women's skirts.”

“Have you seen him doing that?”

“No, but he seems like the type.” Jill stomped her foot and felt like a two-year-old. “Jeez, I hate this.” She looked back at the message her aunt had taken. “I'll go but only if I get two desserts. One before and one after.”

“I'll even read your cards for you if you'd like.”

Jill took a step back. “I'm not ready to know my future, but thanks for asking.” She glanced down at her slacks. “I need to go change. I hate this.”

“I know, dear, but it's for the best.”

“That's what you used to say about going to the dentist.”

“Was I wrong?”

M
OST SIGNIFICANT EVENTS
in Los Lobos took place in the community center and the committee for the pier centennial celebration was no exception. Jill experienced a slight case of déjà vu as she pushed open one of the heavy double-glass doors.

She'd attended Girl Scout meetings in this building, had decorated the largest room for various school dances. She'd had her first kiss out on the basketball courts on a rainy afternoon when she'd been seventeen. The boy in question—Kevin Denny—had quickly turned his attentions elsewhere, but to her that first kiss had been a huge deal.

Tonight she was less enthused about stepping into a piece of her past. For one thing, she didn't want to get assigned actual work involving the celebration. For an other, she dreaded answering questions about why she was back, how she was doing and what she thought would happen in the future. There was also the twenty-eight-and-soon-to-be-divorced syndrome to deal with. Ah, to be home with a good DVD and a bowl of Ben & Jerry's.

Knowing that her aunt would give her “the look” if she returned early, she stepped into the building and
followed the sound of voices to the second meeting doorway on the right. As she walked into the large room and glanced around at too many familiar faces, she felt a slight tickling on the back of her neck. She turned. Mac stood by the coffee urn. His dark gaze settled on her face and he gave her a slow, sexy smile that reminded her that just about twenty-two hours ago, they'd been kissing and she'd been thinking about giving in to a whole lot more.

In the sensible light of almost-twilight, she didn't know if she should go for a sophisticated I-do-this-sort-of-thing-all-the-time or if running for cover was the better option. Figuring there wasn't anywhere to go, she walked toward him and accepted the cup of coffee he held out.

“How did you get roped into this?” he asked.

“The mayor's office called and when I tried to whine my way out of it, Aunt Bev looked stern. I'm easily guilted.”

“Apparently.”

“What's your excuse?”

“I'm the sheriff. I have to be here.”

“The joys of small-town life.” She glanced around the room. “Quite a turnout. All the small-business owners, the city council and many concerned citizens. With luck there will be more hands than work.”

Mac grinned. “Wishful thinking.”

“I know, but a girl has to have dreams. Is our esteemed mayor here yet?”

Mac put his free hand on her shoulder and pointed
with the one holding his coffee cup. She liked how they were sticking together and how he touched her. She liked a lot of things. If Mac was the door prize for at tending the meeting, she would consider this an evening well spent.

She looked where he pointed and saw Los Lobos mayor Franklin Yardley speaking with a young woman she didn't recognize.

Yardley had been mayor for as long as Jill could remember. Probably fifteen years. He was handsome, as tanned as George Hamilton and too well dressed for a town this small. He wore his gray hair short, in a modified military buzz. His eyes crinkled when he talked, giving the impression of good humor and affability. He had the practiced smile and easy manner of a successful used-car salesman. He'd always made Jill uncomfortable, especially at honors events during high school. Becoming a National Merit Scholar or winning a prize meant getting your picture taken with the mayor. In her opinion, he'd always held the girls a little too tight and she distinctly remembered him patting her butt after she received a scholarship to Stanford.

“Disgusting old man,” she muttered under her breath.

“He's not that old,” Mac said. “Fifty-two, fifty-three.”

“Whatever his age, he gives me the creeps. Can we sit in the back?”

Mac chuckled. “Sure thing. Are we going to pass notes, too?”

“I'm ignoring the implication I'm acting as if I'm in high school. Sitting up front is the same as volunteering and my goal for tonight is to slip out unnoticed.”

“Jill, honey, is that you?” a loud, female voice called from the doorway.

Jill winced as she turned and saw Pam striding to ward her. “Oh, great. Here's another opportunity for her to insult me.”

Mac leaned close. “What are you talking about?”

“She came by to see me about a legal thing today and nailed me good.” She plastered a smile on her face and tried to act pleased. “Pam. Hi. So you're here, too.”

“Of course. The centennial celebration of our be loved pier is going to be an event to remember. The Fourth of July is just a warm-up. We've already started a national advertising campaign. We only have six weeks to get things finalized.” Her smile widened. “I'm sure we have something you can help with. Maybe stuffing information folders for the chamber of commerce. I know they need help with that.”

Determined to have a witty comeback
this
time, she searched her brain as she opened her mouth. Just then Franklin Yardley called the meeting to order.

Pam waggled her fingers and sauntered off.

“Bitch,” Jill said as Mac led her to the back of the room.

“Try to play nice with the other children.”

“You heard what she said.”

“I did. I also know that you're younger, more suc
cessful and a hell of a lot sexier. Did it ever occur to you she's acting this way because she's bitter?”

Jill felt her bad mood drain away. “No, but I like it.”

 

E
MILY HELD
the deck of cards in her hand. Bev demonstrated how to shuffle and Emily did her best to follow directions.

“Just slide a few in front,” the older woman said with a smile. “It's easy.”

The cards felt big and awkward, but Emily did as instructed. The cards slid into place.

“Good,” Bev told her. “Let's try it again.” She winked. “We need a well-shuffled deck so I can beat you this time.”

They were playing Go Fish, which was a little kids' game, but still fun. Emily shuffled two more times, then dealt out the cards. When one slipped and fell on the floor, Bev didn't say anything. She was nice that way, Emily thought as she put the card back in place. She never yelled or got mad. She never made Emily feel scared.

“You have other cards,” Emily said as she sorted her cards by numbers. She already had two threes and two fives. That was good. “Cards with pictures and stuff on them.”

“You're right. I do. My tarot cards.”

“What are they for? Different games?”

“Not exactly. The cards can be fun. People use them at parties. Some people think they're special—that they
can tell what's going to happen in the future or what happened in the past.”

Knowing the future sounded scary, Emily thought. “Doesn't everyone already know the past? Weren't they there when it happened?”

“Sometimes. But they aren't always clear on the events. A lot of people think tarot is silly.”

“Do you?”

Bev put down her cards and leaned forward. Her long red braid hung over her shoulder and nearly brushed against the table.

“I believe I have a gift. I can see things other people can't. Like you're a good reader. You read better than most kids you know. That's a gift, right?”

Emily nodded.

“Now you being able to read is something people can see. They don't have to take it on faith. But my gift is different. You can't see it or touch it. So while I believe, others don't.”

Emily thought she understood. “Does Jill believe?”

Bev laughed. “An interesting question. My niece is one of my doubters.”

Emily was shocked. “She thinks you're lying?”

“Not lying, just pretending.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Emily tried to understand. “So the cards tell you what's gonna happen tomorrow?”

“Not specifically. They give me ideas. Good fortune,
bad fortune, that sort of thing. People come to me with questions and I try to help them find answers.”

“Wow.” That sounded pretty exciting. If Emily could know the future…she closed her mind to the question. There were too many dark places she didn't want go.

“There are responsibilities that come with my gift. Do you know what responsibilities are?”

Emily nodded. “You have to do the right thing and you have to think it up even if no one tells you. Like having a pet. I'd have to feed it and stuff, even if Mom didn't remind me. Or doing my homework without being re minded.”

“Exactly. I have to be careful what I tell people. Some may make decisions based on our conversation and I don't want them making a mistake.”

Emily could see how that would be bad. “Do you get scared?”

“Not very often, but it's happened. Also, I have to stay pure for my gift.”

“Pure?”

Bev grinned. “It's like staying clean, but for grown-ups.” She leaned close. “Emily, if you could know one thing about your future, what would it be?”

Emily shrank back in her chair. “Nothing. I don't want to know anything.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded so hard her hair slapped her cheeks. She didn't want to know. What if her mom left the way her dad did? What if her dad didn't love her anymore? What if she was left all alone with nowhere to go?

Her stomach got all tight and hard and she thought she might throw up.

Bev straightened and picked up her cards. “One thing I don't need tarot to tell me is how special you are. I'm really enjoying having you with me. I'm afraid the summer is going to go by really fast and then you'll be gone and I'll miss you. I guess if I'm going to miss you a lot and I've just met you, then your mom must be having a hard time right now. She's known you all her life.”

Emily had wondered about that. “She said she would.”

“Of course. You're a part of her day. She's missing you just like your dad missed you while he was apart from you.”

Emily was less sure about that. “He never called or anything.”

Bev nodded. “Sometimes that happens. And when they mess up, grown-ups feel very guilty, and then they don't know what to do to make it right. Especially with kids. How much should we say? How much will you understand? But now that you're with your dad, I know you can see the love in his eyes. I do.”

Emily stared at her. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. Every time he walks into this house, his whole face lights up. He's so bright, he could be a lamp.”

Emily giggled at the thought of her dad with a lamp shade on his head. “You're funny.”

“Thank you.” Bev held out her arms. “I need a hug. Is that all right?”

Emily grinned. “Sure.” She stood and walked around the table, but as she got closer to Bev, something funny happened inside. Her chest got all sore and her face got hot and suddenly she wanted to cry.

Bev pulled her close and set her on her lap. “A nice big hug,” she said, wrapping her arms around Emily. “I think I need one at least once a day.”

Emily tried to talk, but she couldn't. She flung her arms around Bev's neck and burst into tears.

“It's all right,” Bev said, her voice low and gentle. “You have yourself a good cry. Some days we need that as much as a hug.”

Emily didn't know what was wrong. Why was she crying? Why did everything hurt so bad inside?

Bev continued to hold her, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

“My brave little girl,” she murmured. “This has been hard for you. But you're safe now. You're safe with me and you're safe with your dad.”

Emily shook her head. “I'm not.”

“I see. Because he's mean?”

“No.” She sniffed, then rubbed her cheek against the softness of Bev's flowered dress. “Because he never came and found me. He was supposed to. He was supposed to find me.”

“Of course he was. All dads are supposed to find their little girls. He broke the rules.”

Emily raised her head and stared into Bev's face. “He did.”

“I know. Don't you hate it when that happens?”

Emily didn't know what to say. She'd expected Bev
to tell her she was wrong. That she shouldn't expect her dad to come find her.

“I was mad,” she admitted.

“I would be, too. You're still mad, aren't you?”

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it. Was she mad? Was that it? She nodded slowly.

“And even when your dad says he loves you, you don't know if you can believe him.”

Emily nodded again. Bev
knew.

“When you're mad at your dad it makes you scared, which makes you think about your mom. And you start to wonder if she's even missing you at all.”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded, then she collapsed against Bev. “What if they both forget about me?”

“Sweetie, that's not going to happen. How could any one forget about you? It's only been a couple of days and I know I never could. But I understand what you feel. I understand.”

They were the most precious words Emily had ever heard. She stayed in Bev's arms for a long time. When she started to feel better, she raised her head again.

“Are you going to tell my dad what I said?”

Bev straightened and raised her eyebrows. “Me? Be tray a secret? Never! I'm shocked you'd even ask. Shocked and insulted.”

Emily smiled. “You're funny.”

“That, too. Shocked, insulted and funny.” She smoothed Emily's bangs. “I won't tell him what you said, but I will tell him he needs to keep working on making you feel safe. Just like I'm going to tell you that you need
to open your heart enough to think about for giving him. If your dad wasn't trying, then I'd agree with you about staying mad. But he is trying and he loves you so much. Wouldn't it be sad to miss that be cause you keep turning your back on him?”

Emily wasn't sure exactly what Bev meant, but she got enough to know Bev was telling her not to be mean. “I'm scared. What if he goes away again?”