Talk of the Town (4 page)

Red sandals. Who’d have figured Yeackle’s Shoes for red sandals this cute? She slipped them on and walked downstairs to the beauty shop to pour herself a cup of Myrtle’s famous mud coffee. Every chair was packed. The big Saturday crowd.

“Mornin’.” She was even getting the town accent down.

“Mornin’, Kelly girl. Hey, grab some of that apple cobbler there. Dottie Williamson baked a bunch for the church social tonight. That there is our personal supply.” Myrtle said all this with her mouth full of perm pins. She was unrolling Dottie’s perky gray curls.

“Thanks, Dottie. Your apple cobbler smells divine. Isn’t this about the third fattening thing you’ve brought in this week?” Kelly asked.

“Trying out recipes, you know.” Dottie smiled and pointed to a colorful baking dish full of delec
table hot apple-and-cinnamon cobbler. “You’ve all been my guinea pigs this week.”

“I’m not going to fit into my clothes if I keep this up.” Kelly got closer to the pan. Her mouth watered. “On the other hand, I don’t care.” She grabbed up a small plate off the stack and cut herself a big square.

She picked out her favorite cup, bought brand-new at Miller’s Hardware; a Fiesta ware pink number. Kelly sat down at the little table on the far end of the shop that doubled as a sterilizing station and coffee break area.

“Honey, you look so much better than when you got here. You were so skinny you looked like one of them high-fashion, high-strung models from the big city,” Myrtle said.

Kelly hadn’t even thought about L.A. in the last few days. Everyone seemed satisfied with the sketchy background she’d given them. No one seemed to be asking too many questions. She felt a darkness come over her as she thought about it.

There were a few details she needed to clean up. It helped that Myrtle had gotten her a new ID from some mysterious connection, and laundered all the traveler’s checks into cash, which Kelly deposited in her new-name bank account at Paradise Savings and Loan.

That woman was amazing. She and Myrtle
had done a lot of talking. About Raymond, about her life before Raymond, about this man
Sam
Myrtle said the cosmos had picked out for her.

Sam Grayson, the most eligible bachelor in town. Probably the only bachelor under forty-five, more like it. Kelly was curious, but, after all, she was still married and would have to do something about that—a concept that always confused her whenever she thought about it: how to get a divorce while living under an assumed name.

Then there was the briefcase full of money under her bed. Kelly had actually forgotten about it until this moment. She still wasn’t sure what to do with the money except sleep on it—literally.

What she needed was a lawyer. Legal advice. Yep.
Oh, Mr. Grayson, I’ve got a couple hundred thousand dollars or so under my bed and don’t know what to do about it. Can you give me some advice?

She raised an eyebrow at her own absurd thinking and ate the last bite of apple cobbler with gusto.

“You better run along, hon, it’s already eight-thirty. Mrs. Palmer will be wanting her scones,” Myrtle reminded her. Kelly got up, startled out of her thoughts. She put her dish under the table in the dishpan they kept for party cleanups. It seemed like every day was party day at Myrtle’s.

Kelly grabbed her black leather jacket and
draped it around her shoulders. She gave Myrtle’s cheek a kiss as she passed by, pushed the screen door open, and stepped out on the stoop.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t forget to go over to Dottie’s house after work. You promised her help loadin’ up for the social.”

“I remember. See you later, Mrs. Williamson,” Kelly called back through the screen door as it snapped shut behind her.

“Do you think this will work, Myrtle?” Dottie Williamson looked up into the huge round mirror at the reflection of Myrtle standing behind her with a comb.

“Them two just need a little help. They’re like two ducks that keep swimmin’ around the pond at the same time, goin’ in circles. We just gotta get one of ’em to stop long enough for the other to run smack into ’em.” Myrtle brandished her blue rattail comb dramatically over Dottie’s head.

“Do you really think so?”

“Dottie, hon, I’d say you can start quiltin’ up the weddin’ quilt anytime. Them two is destined. It’s in the stars.”

“Oh, Myrtle, that’s sweet. Maybe I’ll put stars on it.”

“You do that, Dottie. Stars.”

Myrtle put the finishing touches on Dottie’s
coiffure and reached for the hair spray. Something was afoot in Paradise. Them stars were offkilter, and she wasn’t sure exactly why. She’d do her cards later and see what came up. Nothin’ a little female ingenuity couldn’t overcome, of that she was sure.

Kelly knew the little daily task Mrs. Palmer had so politely asked her to take was for the sole purpose of throwing her in the path of the extremely good-looking Sam Grayson, who, she’d been carefully told, stopped at Cora’s every morning for coffee and a bear claw, whatever that was, at exactly 8:45
A.M
.

She hummed as she turned toward the main section of town. Three blocks down, she crossed the street and passed Red Miller, smiling as she passed, handing out his usual g’mornin’s. She’d gotten one every morning for three days now.

And there
he
was, rounding the corner headed straight toward her on his way to Cora’s. He waved at her. She waved back, plowing smack into Mr. Miller, who steadied her, laughing a deep short laugh. Sam was really exceptionally handsome in his slate gray suit, white shirt, and arty tie.

“Why don’t you two just get it over with and talk?” Mr. Miller asked, continuing his sweeping.

Kelly realized what a total idiot she was being.
She steeled herself and marched down the street, pushing Cora’s steel and glass door open. Sam was standing at the counter with a newspaper and a white paper bag in his hands. Fabulous. Tall. Structural. She was being a very, very shallow girl. She tried to feel bad about it, but he was so yummy.

He turned to look at her when she entered.

“Hello.” Sam smiled at her.

“Hi.” That was it, huh? Date with destiny. She sat down and asked Renee, Cora’s number one waitress, for Mrs. Palmer’s scones, unable to face Mr. Destiny without her speaking ability.

Sam got his coffee and slowly walked by her, with a very odd look on his face. After he went through the door, she thumped her head on the counter facefirst. Renee set the bag of scones down beside her.

“Lost something?” Renee started to giggle.

“Yes, my mind, and stop that! I know what a fool I am already.” Kelly started to laugh, and so did about three other people close by. Renee set down a white to-go cup of coffee with a sugar packet on the lid.

“I already put cream in. It’s on the house, honey. Invite me to the wedding, will you?”

“Sure, sure. Thanks, Renee.” Kelly made as graceful an exit as possible, as the whole counter full of people said in unison, “G’bye!”

Oh, brother. Group humiliation was always fun. The joke about the wedding—that was a good one. Particularly with the luck she had as a bride. Oh, yes. Which reminded her, she was definitely going to have to call someone and see about divorcing Raymond. He’d probably already drawn up a divorce and just didn’t know where to send the papers. If she were even going to think about this Sam character, she’d have to deal with that first.

If Sam could just figure out what it was about Miss Kelly Applebee that drove him crazy, he could ignore her and live a normal life. This Kelly girl just seemed to derail him from his steady track. Part of him had danger signals going off like emergency bells inside his head. The rest of him wanted to grab her up on his horse and ride bareback together into the sunset, find a field and…caution be damned.

Okay, just because she appeared to be trouble didn’t mean she was. Appearances could be deceiving. Maybe underneath that wild hair and that tight red skirt and those luscious…oh,
shit
, he was screwed.

PALMER’S EMPORIUM
was painted in black letters on the plate-glass windows of the double storefront. Kelly pushed the swinging door open and stepped inside.

Several people were already hard at work, and the fans were running to keep the temperature cool. She shivered in the breeze, pulling her coat around her. The last swallow of the coffee warmed her up.

After Mrs. Palmer discovered her vast retail merchandising skills Kelly had been put in charge of the women’s and junior’s clothing areas. Ah, yes, ten years in the L.A. fashion district can teach you a lot about clothes. Of course she’d been a little vague about her actual experi
ence, but the fact that she was living with Myrtle seemed to fling most doors wide open around her.

In the three days she’d worked here she’d learned enough about the Palmers to fill a spiral notebook. Paradise was alive with the sound of gossip.

Kelly walked past rows of children’s fall jumpers and rompers. Palmer’s was a family business. Will Palmer, the youngest son, ran the advertising and promotion for the store. His holiday displays were a big attraction. Even people from nearby towns would take a special trip by to see the windows.

He was about thirty-one, and his wife Ginny worked in the store. She was the same age as Kelly, fun, even though they were as different as dog breeds. Ginny had two kids and wore calico skirts.

The oldest Palmer son, Robert, acted as assistant manager. He had an obvious, but gentlemanly, interest in Kelly.

Kelly stashed her handbag and jacket in the back room and checked her reflection in the mirror. She got out her red lipstick to do a little repair, setting the scones on the shelf.

She, on the other hand, had no interest in Robert, who was a total dork and around forty, and…bird-watched.

She had no interest in
any
man, for that matter. She wanted to spend some time getting to know herself, getting her life in order, and starting over.

Myrtle kept hinting about Sam and her fate and all that. She just didn’t feel it. Dottie Williamson and Myrtle had been spending much of their spare time plotting, which seemed contrary to the cosmic design Myrtle claimed it was all supposed to fall under.

At the same time, the store had seen an amazing increase in bachelor business in the last three days, according to Ginny, with several grease monkey types coming in wearing their best Western snap shirts, accidentally finding themselves in women’s lingerie and practically running out of the store.

Kelly was suspicious that someone was sending a stream of men her way. Probably Mrs. Palmer. Or Myrtle, or even Dottie. Everyone in town had a hand firmly on the rudder of the good ship
Destiny
, didn’t they?

Myrtle had been right about one thing, though. Sam Grayson was a notch above the crowd, for sure. There was something about a man so good-looking he left you completely speechless.

She puckered up her lips in the mirror to even out the lipstick. A few calm nights and clean air
had done a great deal for her complexion…and her disposition. Normally she might actually be pissed about all this meddling in her life. Somehow now it felt wonderful. Seriously wonderful.

She popped a piece of Chiclets gum in her mouth for her chew-with-the-rhythm-of-the-mark-downs ritual. Wow, could you even buy this gum in the real world anymore?

Once again she decided Paradise was a time-warp town—stuck in 1955. She took one extra piece on that thought and headed out. Seven rounder racks waited for her
20% off
stickers. Preholiday sale.

Kelly settled into the routine of straightening stock, folding T-shirts, and re-sorting the round racks for mark down. It was a quiet morning.

Then
he
walked in. Kelly stopped dead in her tracks. Was he here to follow up on her incredibly stupid hello? My, he was actually tall, dark, and handsome…how cliché—she smiled to herself—but true. Yes, that slate gray suit was filled out with a very amazing body, too. She could see muscles outlined under the fine wool jacket.

Kelly knew her suits, too, and his wasn’t from Palmer’s men’s department. Armani, most likely.

Well, to hell with that, she thought, and stuck a sizer on the rack. Size twelve.

Money ain’t everything; it buys lots of trouble if you let it. Take rich Raymond, for instance. Take that pesky bag-o’-money under her bed.

But that suit sure did hang well off of Mr. T. D. & H. She started up her sorting again, ignoring him. Maybe he was shopping.

He smiled directly at her. She smiled back. He continued walking closer to her. His eyes were like a dark blue night sky. Her breath caught, and the gum went with it. She swallowed her gum. Badly. It stuck somewhere in her throat.

Through tears of distress she saw Sam’s compelling blue eyes widen in surprise, then change to alarm. The gum wad was lodged somewhere near her vocal cords, and all she could do was wave her arms wildly and turn purple.

With the speed and agility of a quarterback, Sam dodged display cases and straight-armed a rounder that stood between them.

“Are you choking?”

She tried to say no, but she wasn’t so sure.

One large hand took her shoulder and whirled her around. Fisting both hands beneath her breastbone, he squeezed her tightly to his tall frame and tugged upward. He jerked her off her feet with his quick move. Her gum flew out of her mouth, across the room, and stuck on a display of a half body in swimwear, somewhere around the navel area.

Kelly started to laugh in the middle of coughing her last cough. They shifted around and Sam offered his handkerchief. It was white linen with a
G
embroidered on it. He still had one arm around her. Their closeness would have been exciting if she weren’t trying to get a breath in. Actually, it was exciting anyway.

“Thank you,” she squeaked out. What a sight she must be. She slowly regained her composure. God, he smelled good. Her ribs hurt. She rubbed them.

“Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he said, extending his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” Her voice still squeaked. She wiped at the tears streaming down her face, then handed him his makeup-stained handkerchief. He took her whole ice-cold hand in his instead of the handkerchief. He had strong, warm hands, and kept hold of hers for a long time. She looked up into his eyes. He smiled at her again, a devastatingly
nice
smile.

Oh…my…God. Suddenly Kelly wanted a social life again. Actually, Kelly wanted Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome to take her in the back room and kiss the red sandals right off her feet, very hard and very deep. She sort of melted into his handshake.

“Are you sure you’re all right? Can I get you anything?” he said, and released her hand at last.

Yeah, he could get her a big, passionate kiss right now—to go, please. If he only knew what she was thinking. She realized her face must be seven shades of scarlet. An improvement over purple, though.

“We met in Cora’s, remember?” he asked.

Did she remember? Damn straight she did. She looked in his eyes and caught just a hint of amusement.

“I don’t usually have this effect on women.”

“Don’t get yourself too built up, there, Mr. Grayson, I often choke my way through the day.” These words kind of blurted out. She immediately wanted to choke on them instead of the wad of gum.

What was she,
nuts
? “But thanks for the bruised ribs.” Things were getting worse, she was definitely nuts, but he was provoking her, really he was. He looked even more amused, and there was an effort on his part not to laugh out loud at her, she could see this clearly.

“I’m sorry about that. How about I make it up to you by buying lunch? Is today acceptable?”

Is right this second acceptable? Instead she said, “That would be nice. My break is at twelve-thirty.” Well, she wasn’t completely nuts.

“Twelve-thirty it is.” He extended his hand, and they touched again. “I have a meeting scheduled with Mrs. Palmer. Is she in yet?”

Eleanor Palmer breezed into the store just in time to catch them red-handed. And Kelly, red-faced.

“Sam, you handsome devil, I see you’ve met the prettiest girl in town. Now what will I do for a boyfriend?” Mrs. Palmer’s silk chiffon scarf puffed around her in the breeze from the fan. She was a slim and fashionable woman, still very attractive.

“Kelly had a startling effect on me, Mrs. P.”

“I forgive you, and Mr. Palmer will be relieved, I’m sure.” Mrs. Palmer wound her arm through Sam’s. “Come upstairs to my office and have some tea and scones. It was very kind of you to meet me here on a Saturday. I think better in my own space these days. Kelly, dear, you might want to freshen up a bit, then bring up my scones, will you?” Mrs. Palmer winked at Kelly, then ushered Sam toward the office stairs.

Kelly suspected a conspiracy—Myrtle, Dottie, and Mrs. P. were definitely up to something. It was no accident Sam had come to the store. After a moment of thought, Kelly decided she was willing to play along. After a few minor things were cleared up. Like her being married. Maybe Mr. Grayson was just the person to help her with it all.

“Sam.” She corrected herself out loud. She still had his handkerchief. She put it to her nose and
inhaled. His clean, bar-of-soap kind of scent lingered around her.

“I think he prefers it to Henry, his given name.” Ginny Palmer came up beside her, grinning her cat-ate-canary grin. “Sam is what folks have called him since he was a child. Yikes, hon, you look…er…here—better take a look.” Ginny pointed to the back room and followed Kelly, chatting on the way.

“Hope you didn’t scare him away,” Ginny said with a laugh. “Henry Samuel Grayson Jr., attorney at law, is the best catch in town. He and his father practice together. Sam went away to law school back East, then surprised us all by coming home to Paradise a year ago. He’s a nice lawyer, and that’s a rare thing.”

Here it comes, Kelly thought. Gossip, Paradise style.

Kelly looked in the mirror and shrieked. Her hair was flying sideways from being flipped over by Sam’s Heimlich maneuver; her lipstick was smeared down to her chin; her eyes were red and teary. Her mascara? She was definitely having a Tammy Faye moment. She started some quick repairs.

“You say he asked you to lunch?” Ginny asked with a smirk on her face.

“Shut
up
! This is not amusing.” Kelly laughed. “Well, it is, but please take these scones upstairs
while I fix myself, and then come back and help me find that gum ball I projectiled onto a bikini body, okay? Take pity on the horridly embarrassed new girl.”

“Not a problem. I kind of like you, red dress and all. Even if you are way skinnier than me.” Ginny grabbed the bag of scones and headed out. “At least you can stun him as he exits the building. Make up for it.”

Kelly heard giggles all down the main aisle as Ginny went to the stairs.

She was starting to get a feeling about Sam. He was a great guy. Too great. He was just too damn nice for her. She was a mess, and her smeared lipstick was the least of it. She’d lived a rough life. She wasn’t soft and easy like Ginny. She was complicated and hard-edged and…married. Besides all that some horrible thugs were probably looking for their briefcase full of money by now.

Shoot, that was a new thought, and it chilled her down to the bone. Whatever Raymond had planned for that money had undoubtedly gone very badly, and he’d send them her way.

But who would look for her
here
? If they found the car, they could only track her as far as Seattle. She could be anywhere. She hadn’t used her credit cards, and no one was looking for a Kelly
Applebee. Maybe she was safe. But one thing was for sure; she needed some legal advice.

She squiggled her skirt down a little and tidied up her top, which was twisted sideways.

Ginny came back to warn her that they were almost done upstairs. They both went out on the sales floor and acted…normal.

Lawyer descending a staircase, Kelly thought as she watched Sam out of the corner of her eye. This time she was ready for him. She lifted up her chin and looked his way, smiled, then wiggled her finger at him to come to her. He got
very
close.

“Miss…I don’t think I got your last name?” Sam asked.

“Applebee. But you can call me Kelly. I mean you saved my life. I think that’s first name stuff, don’t you, Sam?” She hated lying about her name to such a very nice guy. He’d probably never told a lie in his life. Well, maybe. He was a lawyer, after all.

“My pleasure, Kelly.”

“I wonder if you’d mind if I turned our lunch hour into a business meeting? I have a legal matter I need to discuss.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but Mrs. Palmer told me you were free for a few hours today, so let’s go
ahead and eat before we get down to it, shall we?”

Kelly held on to a forest green, size sixteen ladies polar fleece jacket to keep from falling over. The closer he got, the more she wanted to
get down to it
, all right. “Oh, she did, did she? Well, she’s the boss. Lunch it is, then we can walk to your office?”

“That would be fine.” Sam scratched his chin for a minute and stared at her with a smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Great,” Kelly answered. There was a huge, empty pause in the conversation. Okay, let’s move it along here, she thought. She couldn’t take the long pauses. Sam seemed to get the hint and started toward the door.

“By the way…” Sam said to her as he backed out the door.

“Yes?”

“You clean up great.” He smiled his dazzling smile and strode out.

He may be nice, but he’s got a streak of something in there, Kelly thought to herself. A gleam in his eye she didn’t quite trust.

Kelly and Ginny spent the next two hours shifting stock and sharing tidbits about Sam Grayson’s life. Ginny and Will Palmer had gone to high school with him. Sam was a swimmer
back then and had set some state records. That was a new one.

Then the engagement story again: engaged to a girl after law school in Philadelphia, broke it off for some unknown reason. Kelly actually knew more about that one than Ginny did. Amazing.