Talk of the Town (16 page)

“Wow,” was all Kelly could say. It always amazed her to discover another layer to a Paradise resident. Everyone had a past. Everyone was more than they seemed. Maybe she fit in here better than she thought.

“Siddown and pull up a pumpkin, Kell, we’ll have a gabfest and tell you all about life.” Myrtle handed her a large pumpkin and a large spoon. “Clean the guts outta this one.”

“Okay, but I get a crack at carving, too. Not to challenge your winning streak, Cora. Just for fun.”

“Don’t worry, hon, there’s room for another winner in this town. Fun is what it’s all about. Let’s have some fun, right, girls?”

They all screeched and hollered and laughed again. These old women were nuts. Kelly got handed a Howdy Doody glass full of peach daiquiri. It was so delicious she forgot it was rum-laced and tossed the entire thing down.

“Slow down, there, honey, this stuff packs quite a punch.” Cora patted her shoulder.

A half hour later Kelly sat back and looked at her intricately carved pumpkin. Three old women stood behind her chair.

“That there is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Kelly, you are an artist. Working in that tattoo parlor really gave you skills.” Cora pointed at a particularly well done portion.

“Isn’t that the old Shipley place?” Dottie asked.

“It is.” Kelly answered. “See the twin turrets, and over here the magnolia tree?”

“Looks haunted even on a pumpkin,” Myrtle said.

“I think the spirits are friendly. When I was there, I felt it.”

“Now we’re talking Halloween talk. I think we oughta go up there and turn it into a haunted house for the town kids this year.”

“We’ve only got a few weeks, Myrtle, how could we?” Kelly said.

“It’s not condemned or anything, is it?” Dottie sat down and picked up her spiced tea.

Kelly laughed at Dottie. She’d decided to sober up a while back and made everyone tea. They’d all eaten the chicken Kiev Cora brought with her and moved on to Dottie’s chocolate
brownies washed down with spiced tea. The smells of peach and pumpkin and cinnamon and orange tea, and the wonderful tastes and that whole
female
experience was making Kelly forget all her troubles.

These women had lived through the death of spouses, through poverty, joy, and sorrow. Dottie had been married to the same man for fifty-one years. Cora had recovered from the loss of her wonderful husband ten years ago and remarried. She had five children who grew up into great people. She used to sing with a big band in the fifties. They’d all three worked hard to make themselves a life.

She felt more determined than ever to let the situation with Raymond go away. Turning herself in could only result in her having to leave this wonderful place and these wonderful people.

“Two weeks is plenty. We can do it. We’ll get everyone to pitch in,” Kelly heard herself say out loud. “But, ladies, I have another problem, and I need your help.”

“We were wondering when you’d get to it. Lay it out, girl, we’re ready to take on the devil and tie his tail in a knot. We want you here with us, and no man’s gonna get in the way.” Myrtle had stood up to make this speech. Her red apron was festooned with strands of pumpkin and an occasional seed. She whammed a wooden spoon on
the table for emphasis. The other two applauded wildly.

Damn, she was in for it now. Kelly grabbed another brownie and started in telling her story.

He was in love with a wanted woman. Her perfume still lingered in his office. He felt her haunting him. He needed her to be free of the shadow of her past so they could have a future. He was going to have to talk her out of her fears. But how could he if she was right?

She’d run out the door after an hour of going over the details of the day she’d left Raymond. She’d left when Sam had tried once more to convince her to turn herself in.

Maybe she was packing up right now. She could leave Paradise and go hide out somewhere else. He could lose her forever.

He stood at his window and looked over the town of Paradise, almost hidden in the darkness
of night. A few lights gave off a golden glow on Main Street.

She came back once after running away from him. He thought about their lovemaking. It was spectacular and wild and loving all at the same time. The intimacy that happened right away with them, even just watching movies together, was so unusual. He felt so alive with her. She was like a fire in his heart.

She came back once; she’d come back again.

Sam distracted himself making order in his office. He stacked up the law books he’d spent hours going through, and piled up all his documentation in his desk in-box. Faith had stayed late talking to him and finally, working together, they’d created some files and done some Internet research.

What if she was right, what if they convicted her? He’d seen it happen before. He let his mind slip to a horrible picture of Kelly in prison. He’d seen the harshness of prison. He’d visited Chelsea there a few times, and it had changed her forever. He couldn’t let that happen to Kelly.

Even if he appealed her case, she could be held for months, even years. They’d probably try her for first-degree murder. Sam had deliberately not told her how Raymond had died. A murder involving a gun, that couldn’t go any lower than second-degree.

It wouldn’t jeopardize his law license to let her go on living here without dealing with it, because he’d be violating attorney-client privilege if he revealed anything about her case to the police—or to anyone. They might come up with some leads in the case if he could buy her some time—and for himself—to prepare her case.

According to Faith, the entire town was ready to hide Kelly forever. That Rat Pack of four old women who actually knew all the details of Kelly’s status had already sworn their secrecy.

Raymond sure wouldn’t be after her. That left the two men and their money. Could they track her down from the picture in the
Times
? Possibly. The money was a problem. But the police didn’t know it existed. Apparently only Kelly, Myrtle, and dead Raymond knew it existed. Plus the two drug traders and…himself.

Everyone in Paradise knew she was innocent. He did, too. He knew it with all his heart. He wanted to give her the home she’d always been looking for—in Paradise.

He’d finally met the stray cat of his dreams—Kelly Atwood…Bianchi…Applebee…whatever. She wasn’t the domesticated cat he’d imagined a hundred times, curled up by the home fires, but she was his. Scraggly, wild, and in trouble.

He couldn’t think anymore. He’d justified
himself into a knot. Somehow it still felt wrong. He had ethics and they were being stretched thin. He grabbed his jacket and walked out, locking the office door behind him.

It was midnight. He’d get some sleep and come at it fresh tomorrow. He just wished Kelly was in his bed tonight, safe in his arms.

He felt what that would be like and it made him ache for her so bad his body hurt. His body and his mind. He pressed the elevator button, stepped inside, slid his key in the lock, and hit
P
. The doors closed. The lights were dim. He kept the building on minimal lighting after eleven to cut the power consumption.

There was one way to keep Kelly safe. One way to have her with him so he didn’t ache for her every minute, and one way to buy her some time. He’d marry her. A change of name would do her good. Sam smiled—Kelly Atwood Bianchi Applebee Grayson. It had a ring to it.

The elevator doors opened and he walked across to his front door. He better hang on—he was in for a bumpy ride.

Kelly woke up a blonde, thanks to Myrtle and the pumpkin-party gals. Even her eyebrows had been bleached. She threw off the covers and ran to the dressing table. Her hair had grown past her ears and now she had a feathery cap of
blonde spikes with blonder highlights. She was a double-process girl.

Myrtle said she needed a new look. More like a new disguise, Kelly figured. Kelly was filled with a new kind of resolve. She was going to beat this. The past was going to fade like morning fog and leave her in the clear.

She showered quickly and wrapped herself in a huge beach towel she’d found amongst the linens.

Her whole wardrobe looked different on her. She settled on red, as usual: red bra, tight red T-shirt, and her jeans. Wow, on a blonde, red was
pow.

This just might work. She didn’t look like herself at all. She peered in the full-length closet door mirror. Her once-gaunt face had filled out softer. She must have put on ten pounds with all this great food in Paradise. She’d never eaten this well in her life. Somehow, it looked fine. Her bust line definitely benefited from the extra. Not bad. She smirked at herself in the mirror. She needed to stay strong.

She dressed in a flash and ran downstairs. It was early morning, and Myrtle was still in her Chinese silk pajamas. They were turquoise and lined with flannel and really warm. Kelly knew because Myrtle had given her a red pair.

She had work to do. The haunted house proj
ect had been launched last night along with her hair, and it was going to keep her very busy.

“Mornin’,” she said to Myrtle. She brought over the coffee percolator and poured Myrtle a refill.

“Mornin’. Damn, you’re a good blonde. I did a fine, fine job, if I do say so myself. No one would know you from Eve. Glad you’re up early. That’s good. I’ve been thinkin’ on your problems.”

Kelly brought her cup of coffee over to the table and sat next to Myrtle. “I’m sorry I dumped it all on you last night.”

“Don’t think twice about it. We’ll get it ironed out.” Myrtle handed Kelly a piece of toast with cheese melted on it and went on talking. “So now, here’s what I’ve come up with. It seems to me that ol’ Ray or someone else was going to spend this money on bad things that would get sold to bad people—that would get into the hands of a bunch of mixed-up kids after a spell. Then some mama down in Los Angeles would be wringin’ her hands, tryin’ to figure out how to get her kid back on track, and she’d be missin’ work worryin’ and lookin’ for that kid. Are you followin’ me here?”

“Yes,” Kelly said, listening intently.

“What say we send a donation to that Boys and Girls Club down there that keeps those kids busy and off the streets, so that mama can keep a
roof over her kid’s head?” Myrtle propped her elbow on the table and tapped her chin for a while with her long purple acrylic nails.

“That sounds great, but how do we send a pile of money to them? That’s a problem.”

“That’s the truth. How about this? I’ll take the money to Willard Gibbs at the bank. He won’t blink an eye me comin’ in there with a briefcase of money. I know things about him, he knows things about me. We’ll get it turned into a check.”

“Damn, you’re good, Myrtle.” Kelly swallowed her coffee and stared, amazed at the inter-weavings of Paradise society.

“You get the address, and we’ll have a mailing party. Now, when we stick this in the mailbox, you, missy, are going to say goodbye to the old days. You can’t let the past push around your present, or your future, neither. Take it from me, I should know.” Myrtle winked.

“Myrtle, I love you. Will you marry me?”

“We’ve been all through this. You’re meant for someone else.” Myrtle poked her in fun.

Kelly patted Myrtle’s arm. “I wish you’d been my mom, Myrtle.”

“We play the hand we’re dealt. But you’re here now, and we have lots of time to make up for it. If I’d had a daughter, I’d hope she’d be just like you. Full of spit and vinegar.”

“Quit it, or I’ll start blubbering.”

“Well, it’s true.” Myrtle took Kelly’s hand, then patted it vigorously. “Hey, we’re comin’ up on your first holiday season in Paradise. We do it up big around here.”

“Speaking of, I’ve got to round up help for the haunted Shipley house project. I figure Ginny and Will, and even Robert and who knows who else. We’ll get a work party up there this weekend.”

“Just the thing to take your mind off everything.” Myrtle got up and put her cup in the sink. “I better get myself fixed up. Eleanor Palmer’s coming in for a beehive at eight-thirty. She’s an early bird, too.”

“Good, you keep Eleanor busy while I get the rest of the Palmers jazzed up. Maybe we’ll make this haunted house project a benefit to fix up the Shipley house and make it usable to the community.”

“That’s one grand idea. It’s a short time to pull something together, but you’re young. You can do it. Heck, it’s already spooky as hell up there, just patch up the busted spots and set up some sound effects. You can borrow ol’ Fluffy if ya like.”

“Thanks, hon.” Kelly kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve got to get to work. I left you some hot water.”

“Decent of you.” Myrtle’s voice drifted as she went up the stairs. “Get my Not Just a Waitress red lipstick out of the tray in the salon. It goes just perfect with that shirt.”

Kelly washed out the two coffee cups and set them in Myrtle’s dish drainer. What if she’d grown up in a nice house here in Paradise as someone else’s child? With parents and a family and cousins and one school and church socials? Who would she be? Would she be the girl of Sam’s dreams?

She probably wouldn’t be wanted for murder.

Kelly wondered for a moment who Sam would be when she heard from him again. Her lawyer, or her lover, or neither of those.

She decided she wasn’t going to allow herself to think about it. She’d go crazy. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to find the grit to make it through alone. She’d just throw herself into the Shipley house project. Fixing something up would feel good right now.

The dining room was straight out of Dickens’s
Great Expectations.
The furniture was draped with white sheets, and the cobwebs were too numerous and authentic to remove: candelabras and cobwebs for Miss Haversham’s wedding dinner. At least there wasn’t any old food petrified on the table. Kelly had set ten places of the
Shipley sisters’ Limoges china for the ten cheesecloth ghosts supplied by Nettie’s Bazaar. She thought it looked pretty spooky—in a funny way. Will had strung the ghosts up to the ceiling so they appeared to float.

Kelly looked down her clipboard checklist for Fire Safety and scribbled a note to herself. She’d have to get Red Miller to replace the candles with battery-operated ones.

The town had really jumped on her haunted house project. There had to be thirty people here. It helped that everyone seemed to have five relatives to lend to the preparations. Plus Cora had sent sandwiches and apple cider for all.

She walked down the hall to the sweeping curved staircase and started up to the second floor. The sound of pounding hammers and busy folks got louder as she approached.

Someone had the brilliant idea of replacing the old portraits with fakes sporting realistic eyeballs that seemed to watch you as you climbed the stairs. Very clever.

The double door to the outside porch was now unboarded, repaired, and wide-open. She checked it off her list. The porch was actually the biggest problem. It needed some real carpentry work, and Red Miller couldn’t get away till tomorrow.

Maybe his brother Herschel, who’d wandered
over from his place across the way, could do it. Heck, maybe she’d get him working with Mabel Thompson. She seemed perfectly capable of swinging a hammer. They could work out their legal differences with tools. It would be cheaper than going to court.

She stood on the wide old porch and looked out over the land. This must have been grand at one time. Rocking on the porch watching the sun go down.

It had been a long day, and the sun was three o’clockish. She wished for a chair. But she knew if she sat down and rested, her mind would travel to Sam. Mrs. Palmer had given her time off to work on the house, which meant she’d been up here almost every day, away from morning coffee at Cora’s—and away from Sam.

She hadn’t answered his daily messages, despite being set upon by a quartet of concerned Paradise matrons. She was…busy.

Maybe she’d tackle the blackberries rambling up the side posts before dark. Where were those clippers?

A figure came toward the house, but the sun glared in her eyes and she could only see his outline. Hopefully it was someone with carpentry skills.

Sam. It was Sam. He strode straight up to her
and grabbed her and kissed her. She dropped her clipboard. His mouth was hot on hers, and finally she wrapped her own arms around him in return. He came for her. He came.

He let her go enough to look in her face.

“Oh, my God, you’re a blonde.”

“I’m in disguise.”

“Not bad. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

“How’d you know where I was?”

“You’re talking Paradise, here. Did you think I’d just forget about you? I want you back in my bed.”

“So it’s sex, then?”

“Damn straight. I can’t get enough of you.”

“That’ll do for now, I guess.” Kelly breathed in the scent of him. His flannel shirt was as smooth and warm as an embrace. She wanted to crawl inside it with him. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her face.

He pulled her back to him and let her put her head on his chest. It felt so good.

“Kelly, I’m not saying I agree with the way you are handling your problem, but while we figure it out, I want to be with you.”

“I’d like that, Sam,” she said, letting her tears dry against his soft shirt. Then she straightened herself up. She wasn’t going to cry anymore.

He handed her his handkerchief. “I’ve been working on your case. But there’s been no change.”

“Oh.” She didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. But now I need you. Did you bring a hammer?” she asked. She blew her nose on his embroidered-with-a-G linen handkerchief and handed it back to him. He smiled at her and shook his head. She did need him, for more than hammering nails; but she didn’t want it to show too much.