Stroke of Fortune (15 page)

An awful wave of pure hopelessness washed over her.

But then he waved the check at her. “Here. Take it.”

And despair became something that felt a lot like anger. “Just like that, huh?”

“Josie—”

“Just take that check, walk out of this room, get my things and go?”

“Look, you know it's the best way.”

Well, and here we are all over again, she thought. Just like before. Guilt is the winner. He hands me a check and I get the heck out.

Forget that.

Maybe he refused to get past the tragedy of losing a wife and child. But
she
had learned a thing or two since the last time he sent her away. Darned if she'd go slinking off like some kind of criminal, like she
had to feel as guilty as he did. She had nothing to feel guilty about, except for the “crime” of loving Flynt Carson.

He was looking pained. And he'd been holding out the check for long enough that it was getting pretty awkward. He set it on the edge of the desk.

“Josie, take the damn check. This is money you earned, money I owe you. I'm just settling up, giving you what is yours.”

“No.” She said it loud and she said it clear.

He glowered. “There's no point in stringing this out. I've said it can't work between us, that I want you to—”

“And I said no. Not right yet. There's more than just the two of us to think about this time. Maybe you've forgotten. There's also Lena.”

“Lena,” he repeated, as if he didn't know what she was getting at.

So she told him. “Even if Lena isn't our baby girl, she is still going to need someone to look after her until her real mama can be found.”

“I'm aware of that, damn it.”

“Oh, well, that's nice. You mean you're not just going to put her back in her car seat and leave her on the golf course for someone else to find?”

“Of course not. I've already talked to her caseworker. Lena will stay right here until we can figure out who her parents are.”

“Fine. Then you'll need to hire a new nanny.”

He looked at her sideways. “Okay. So?”

“So I'll stay until you do—and don't you even give me that look, Flynt Carson. This is no last-ditch effort to get you to see what we could have together. I am done, get it? I got your message loud and clear this time. I won't be chasing after you ever again. But I won't be run off like some thief in the night, either. I'll stay—for Lena's sake—until you can find another nanny. And you, I'll ignore. All I ask is that you do the same for me.”

“S
o what now?” asked Tyler. He tightened the towel around his waist and let his head drop back against the cobalt-blue wall tiles of the men's steam room.

Flynt blotted moisture from his face. He'd decided it was time for a meeting and he'd called them all together—well, Tyler, Spence and Michael, anyway. Luke was still gone who the hell knew where.

Flynt said, “First off, I'd suggest you three set up paternity tests.” He squinted through the clouds of steam. “Contact Eliza Guzman at Child Protective Services. She's Lena's caseworker. She can probably set up the tests.”

Spence nodded. “Eliza Guzman. Got it.” Tyler and Michael made noises of agreement.

“Anyone seen Luke lately?”

The men looked at each other and shook their heads. Tyler said, “Sunday, it was me and Spence. Luke was a no-show again.” He gave Flynt a mock-scowl. “And no thanks to you, we had to wait around the clubhouse for an extra half hour to pick up two more players.”

“Sorry.” Flynt looked away. He didn't want to think about last Sunday. Last Sunday he'd gone to church with Josie and Lena. Last Sunday he'd been a happy man.

Spence asked, “What about the baby?”

“She's still at the ranch.” Flynt spiked his fingers back through his wet hair. “It seemed like the best way to go for now—give her some consistency, some margin of stability until we can track down her parents.”

Josie was still at the ranch, too, looking after Lena as she'd insisted on doing, until they could find someone suitable to take over for her. She was also keeping her word and keeping clear of him. When he came in the baby's room, she would leave. She only spoke to him when she absolutely had to, to say things like, “Here's the bottle” or “Buzz me when you're ready to go and I'll take over.”

It was driving him just a little bit insane, having her right there, so close—and yet completely out of his reach. He couldn't touch. They hardly spoke.

But he was getting through it. He was managing. It hadn't been all that long, really, just three days since their confrontation in his study—three days.

It only seemed like forever.

Grace was supposed to be finding Josie's replacement. However, a good nanny, evidently, wasn't all that easy to find.

Or so Grace kept telling him.

But he felt certain it wouldn't be long now. She would find someone soon. Josie would be gone and he would be—well, not free of her, exactly. That wouldn't happen for a long time to come. Hell, if he wanted to be brutally honest, he might as well admit that it might never happen. But at least he wouldn't have to see her every day, to have her look right through him, to long to reach out and know he couldn't. To face the fact, day by day, hour by hour, that even if his control broke again, hers wouldn't.

She was firm against him now. He could see it in the determined set of her shoulders, in the tone of her voice, so disconnected and cool, whenever she had no choice but to speak to him. She was cut off from him, closed to him in some elemental and permanent way.

The loss was like a big, ugly hole in the center of himself.

Michael said, “Nobody's coming forward on this, damn it. If we don't take some action, that little girl will be walking and talking before anyone finds out who she belongs to.”

“I talked to Hart O'Brien at MCPD day before yesterday,” Flynt told them. His conversation with the detective had been brief and to the point. “He said he was backing out of it, that the sheriff's office was taking full jurisdiction over the investigation. He also said that since I've been eliminated as the father, you guys can expect to be hearing from the sheriff some time soon.”

“Great,” said Michael. “And what does that mean?”

Spence chuckled. “It means the case is still open and they'll call us when they want to talk to us.”

Michael toweled sweat from his brow. “Maybe we need to step up to the plate here, help things along a little.”

Spence was nodding. “You're right. We need to get somebody on this ourselves.”

“Maybe Ben Ashton?” Tyler suggested.

Flynt recognized the name. Ashton was a private investigator with his own small agency over in Corpus.

“He's good,” said Spence. “Want me to give him a call? We could put him on the paternity tests, instead of having the caseworker handle it.”

The others exchanged glances. Then Flynt nodded. “Go for it.”

 

“I could use a drink,” Tyler said after they'd all showered and dressed. “How about it?”

Flynt probably should have begged off. But then what? It was five-thirty on Thursday night. He had no dinner plans, nothing to do but go home.

Where Josie was.

He went with the others into the temporary Men's Grill and ordered his usual, though he was seriously tempted to do otherwise.

Not that being tempted was anything new.

It was only that lately, the past few days, the yearning for a good, stiff drink had gotten so much stronger—and more frequent. Lately he thought about Josie all the time and that hurt. And when he hurt, he wanted something to kill the pain.

He knew just what would do it. It came in liquid form.

So far he was holding on to sobriety. But every day he had to be around Josie and not touch her or even really talk to her, he found himself wondering—more often and more strongly—what the hell difference it made if he stayed sober or not.

Harvey appeared at the table and fawned over them for a minute or two. Then something happened over by the waitress station. The little redhead, Erica, got into it with Daisy Parker—the new one, that dark-eyed blonde. A couple of drinks went flying from a tray, glass shattering and booze soaking the carpet. Erica looked as if she might claw the blonde's eyes out. The blonde, though, stood right up to her. Clearly Daisy Parker was a woman who knew how to hold her own.

Before much more could happen, Harvey got on the case. He headed right over there and led the two women off—presumably for a lecture in his office. About twenty minutes later, they all reappeared. The waitresses went back to work, and Harvey hustled off to greet another group of men who'd just arrived in the Grill.

Flynt thought about calling Harvey over and telling him what Josie had witnessed Friday concerning the redhead and Frank Del Brio. But then what? After the scene with Daisy Parker, Erica wouldn't be in Harvey's good graces. If he said something negative about her right now, she'd no doubt be looking for work.

And what was it Josie had said?

Even a mean girl's gotta eat…

He felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth as he remembered. They'd been at the Saddlebag, Friday night, holding hands across the cocktail table. She'd leaned close and insisted that she didn't want Erica Clawson fired.

And then a slow song had come on the jukebox and he'd taken her into his arms….

Spence elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

Flynt shook himself. “Yeah?”

Spence leaned close and tipped his head in Daisy Parker's direction. “Something familiar about that blonde, don't you think?”

Before Flynt could answer, one of the other waitresses came by and asked them if they were ready for another round.

When the waitress left the table, James Campbell, a local attorney, came by. Campbell was getting married in a couple of weeks.

“Congratulations, man,” said Tyler.

“Have a seat,” Spence offered.

“Why not? I've got time for a drink.”

Campbell took a chair across the table. The waitress returned. Flynt sipped his club soda and answered when spoken to and tried not to see Josie's face in his mind, not to hear her voice in his head….

 

It was a little after five when Josie came in from her daily visit to her mama's house. She found Grace in the rocker feeding Lena her bottle.

Flynt's mother looked up. “Ah. There you are.” She smiled the sweetest, warmest of smiles. “Now, doesn't this girl have a big appetite?”

“Yes, she does. How did the interviews go today?”

“Well, now, Josie, there were no real prospects today. The two that agency sent over, well, one seemed downright sulky. And the other was a stiff one, you know? Can't have someone stuffy and mean looking after our Lena, now can we?”

Josie knew a runaround when she heard one. “Grace, we're going to have to talk.”

“Yes, dear?”

“You know, don't you, that Flynt wants me out of here?”

Grace frowned. “Now, we both know that's not true. My son—”

“Grace.” Josie crossed the room and knelt before Grace and the baby. “Listen.”

Grace arranged her face into serious lines. “Of course.”

“I am so sorry about all this, I truly am.”

Another frown creased Grace's brow. “Oh, now, don't. You've nothing to feel sorry for. If anyone should apologize, I imagine I should. I was hasty in my judgment at first. And, well, I suppose I have to admit, I behaved like something of a snob.”

Josie felt more than a little bit teary-eyed. She put her hand over Grace's. “We worked through it.”

“Yes, we did.”

“And then, no sooner did you get used to the idea of Flynt and me together than it was over.”

“Well, now, maybe it's
not
over.”

“Grace, it's over. I promise you. You know he thought that Lena was mine? And his?”

A faint blush tinged Grace's soft cheek. She looked down at the baby she held in her arms. “Ford and I, we did put two and two together. We thought that you must have left last year because something had happened between you and Flynt.”

“You're right. Something did happen.”

Grace looked up then. “I thought so.”

“But I didn't have Lena. Lena is not mine. And she's not Flynt's.”

Grace sighed. “Yes, I know. Flynt explained all about that test he took and what it proved. I must admit, I'm very disappointed.” She looked at Lena again, her eyes soft with affection. “There's nothing
I'd love more than to have this little one call me Grandma.”

“I know. But she's not your grandbaby and she's not Flynt's daughter. And the truth is, he only planned to marry me because he thought she was.”

Grace made a sound of pure outrage. “That is ridiculous.” She spoke so strongly, it surprised the baby. Lena popped off the bottle, blue eyes wide. “Oh,” said Grace. “Oh, now. It's okay.” She guided the bottle back into the tiny mouth and Lena started sucking away. Then Grace spoke more quietly—but still with some heat. “That is pure idiocy. I may get things wrong now and then, but basically I know my own son. Flynt has come to love you. And I have seen you together. I know you love him, too.”

“Love isn't the problem.”

“Then it will work out. You'll see. In the end the two of you will—”

“No, Grace. We won't.”

“But—”

“Please. It really isn't right for me to say any more. Except to tell you that Flynt and I truly are through.” Josie put a light hand on Lena's warm brow, brushed at the feathery wisps of dark hair. “I have only stayed on here because I feel a responsibility to this baby, because I didn't want to do what I did last year—just vanish and leave you scrambling to find someone to fill my job. I wanted to give you a few days to replace
me. But now I see you're really not looking, are you, Grace?”

Grace's gaze slid away.

Josie prompted gently. “Are you?”

Grace looked at her full on. “All right. No, I haven't been. I've been…hoping. I've been thinking that if you two only had a little time…”

“Sorry. But time won't do it. It's over, Grace. It's done. I want to go home. And Flynt needs for me to go home. I will miss you all a lot, but that's the way it has to be.”

Grace looked at her for a long time, her blue eyes shining with not-quite-shed tears. “You would have made a fine wife for him. For a few days there, I was so happy, Josie, to think that it had happened at last. Love for Flynt. He hasn't had an easy life, you know. Not really. You should have known him as a child. He was a charmer, so sweet and so carefree. But then so much went wrong for him.”

“I know. And I'm sorry.”

“You are the wife he needs, the woman he should have married in the first place.”

Josie found she was smiling. “Well, considering I was only about fifteen when he met Monica, and that the Carsons and the Lavenders don't hang out with the same crowd, that just didn't happen.”

“It should have—and don't you do it, Josie Lavender.”

“Do what?”

“Give me another of your little lectures concerning the word ‘should.' I don't need to hear it. Much as it pains me, I know that you're right. If you must go, then I'm not the one to stop you.”

“So, you'll find someone, soon?”

Grace balanced the bottle against her generous bosom and quickly swiped the tears away. “You might have noticed that I did conduct a few interviews, just to keep up appearances.”

“Yes, I did notice.”

Grace sniffed. “And one of the women I talked to, I believe will work out fine. I'll go call her now, ask her if she can start tomorrow.”

“Oh, Grace. I will miss you.” Josie got to her feet.

Careful of her fragile burden, Grace rose from the rocker. “No one says you have to be a stranger.”

It was a lovely thing to say. But a continued friendship with Grace wasn't to be, and Josie knew it. Flynt wanted her out of his life. He didn't want to have to see her. She understood, really, because she felt the same. It just plain hurt too much to be near him.

Grace said, “Here. Take this angel, will you? I'll make that call.”