Delusion Road (22 page)

Her father squeezed her hand again. “At least you’re shut of him,” he said, and she recognized one of her grandfather’s sayings.

But she
wasn’t
shut of him. Not yet. Releasing her father’s hand, she stood up. “I need to get this over with while I still have the nerve.”

“Get what over with?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to report him.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I know. Wynn made it clear that any statement I make will only be hearsay. But even if I can’t press charges, at least the police will know what’s he’s been doing. If nothing else, they should be able to scare him into leaving Bailey alone.”

“It’s a small town,” said Carleton. “People will find out what you did.”

She walked around behind the desk and leaned down to hug her father, grateful for his concern. “I have to do this, Daddy.” Straightening, she said, “I haven’t been a very nice person.”

He started to disagree but she cut him off, pointing to the photo of her father’s parents on the wall. “Remember how Grandpa used to say you can dress up bacon all you want but it’s still pig?”

He nodded.

“I’ve nailed the dressing-up part, but I haven’t paid much attention to the rest.” She thought of how she’d changed during the past year, how she’d allowed herself to get swept up in her friends’ ridiculing of anyone who walked into view, how she’d laughed at Russell Shaw the first day of school and all those other times before, how she hadn’t stood up for Bailey when Celia and the others had made fun of her. “I haven’t been treating people very well,” she told her father. “Mostly because I haven’t had to. It’s about time I did.”

Carleton got to his feet. “Please, Willa, don’t do this.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be okay—”

“But
I
won’t,” he interrupted. “Look, Willa, as much as I’d like to see Wynn pay for what he’s done, I can’t allow you to go to the police.”

“What do you mean you can’t
allow
me to?”

“Please,” he said, pointing to the chair she’d been sitting in, “just hear me out. It’s important.”

She sat down but her father remained standing, somehow looking far older than his age. He pointed at the spreadsheet lying across his desk. “This economy is ruining me, Willa. See those figures there? I think you know what it means when the numbers are red.” He rubbed his forehead. “I lied to you, sweetheart.”

“About what?”

“When I said your Camaro was delayed because of a factory glitch. I never placed the order.”

“Why not?” The spreadsheet made the answer obvious but, in Willa’s confusion about Wynn, that was the question her brain had made her mouth ask.

“The business is hemorrhaging money. Head office keeps putting more emphasis on client satisfaction, which I know is important, but it’s costing me a fortune. Protocol personnel, courtesy cars, customer appreciation barbecues, the list goes on and on. And now the building is showing its age.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to her. “That’s the estimate for the new roof, which the contractor now says needs structural refitting.”

Willa was astonished by the figure.

“To make matters worse,” he continued, “sales are way down, and the extended warranties haven’t been moving the way they should. And the service centre is hurting, too. People who used to bring their vehicles here for repairs are taking them to backyard mechanics who fix them for a fraction of what we have to charge. The dealership is going under, Willa.”

“That’s terrible, Daddy,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I had no idea.” But, of course, the increased hours he’d been spending at work should have been a sign. “Does Mom know?”

He shook his head. “Please don’t say anything to her about it, okay? I hadn’t intended to tell you, either, but what you’re planning to do changed that.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the dealership have to do with Wynn?”

“Everything,” he said. “I have a chance to fix things here. With Laird d’Entremont’s help.”

Willa groaned.

“Sweetheart, most of Brookdale’s municipal vehicles are old, and the town’s replacing more than half of them this year, all trucks. It’s a major contract and, as mayor, Laird has considerable
influence in the town council’s final decision. He told me he’s willing to recommend the town buy all GMCs, along with the five-year extended warranties. A contract like that is just what I need to keep the dealership afloat until I get over this rough patch.”

Willa couldn’t believe what her father was saying, what he was asking her to do. Or, more specifically,
not
do. What had Wynn said to her?
Ask your father.
And so she had. Only to learn that a few trucks were all it cost for a free pass to do whatever you wanted with a girl you considered trash.

Carleton seemed to read on her face what she was thinking. “Please don’t judge me,” he said. “I’m not proud of this.” He looked down at his desk, avoiding his daughter’s wounded expression. “But I’ve worked very hard to get to this point in my life, Willa. Too hard to lose it all now.”

“But think about what Wynn’s
doing
, Daddy.”

“I know that. But we’re not just talking about me here. This dealership has thirty-six employees, and that doesn’t count the freelancers we hire for detailing vehicles, delivering custom orders, things like that. Jobs are hard to come by, Willa, especially here in the valley. When you run a business in a small town, the people who work for you are more than employees. They’re family. You have an obligation to take care of them.”

“I know that,” said Willa.

“I don’t think you do. Take Shirley out there. She’s the best employee I’ve ever had, but she’s pushing fifty. How many job opportunities do you think are out there for her?”

Willa’s silence told him what they both knew.

“Someone like Bob Hartley can retire, but Shirley can’t. She
still has two kids in university, a mortgage, and an ex who hasn’t paid her a cent in years. And then there’s people like Ed. He and his wife just found out they’re expecting their first kid. How do you think he’d cope with a pink slip right now? How would any of them cope?”

Suddenly Willa understood why her father had been working so hard. Yes, he loved the dealership, but he also cared for the people who showed up there every day. People who worked hard for their salaries and needed to keep doing it.

“Any other time, Willa,” her father continued, “I’d just submit my tender like the other dealers and hope for the best. But Laird has the power to veto the council’s decision, which is why I can’t let you go to the police. Chief Jenkins would be on the phone to Laird before you left the building. He and the d’Entremonts have been tight for years. After the contract is awarded, I’ll gladly take you there myself.” He shook his head. “To be honest, sweetheart, I can’t say I ever cared much for Wynn in the first place. That boy was all show. He treated you like arm candy.”

“You never said anything.”

He patted her hand. “You seemed happy with him.” Then he frowned. “You’re sure he never hurt you?”

She shook her head. “So you really think his dad would derail the contract?”

Carleton shrugged. “If you’d asked me that a year ago, I might have said no. But I’ve seen a change in Laird. For one thing, he’s drinking too much. I think Sharon was a calming influence on him, but now that she’s gone …” He didn’t bother stating the obvious. “And to tell you the truth, there’s a side to Laird that has
never sat well with me. As long as I’ve known him, he’s had a chip on his shoulder.”

Her father opened a desk drawer, reached inside, and pulled out a small device. “Latest-generation pager,” he said. “I give them to staff so they can contact me if there’s an emergency. If Wynn tries anything—”

“I don’t think he will, Daddy. But if he did, I’d just use my phone—”

“No,” said her father. “Things are slow here today, but there are times when my phone doesn’t stop ringing. The pager’s only for emergencies, so it’ll get my attention. As long as you have cell service, you’ll be able to alert me and I’ll come immediately. Promise me you’ll keep it with you, okay?”

“I promise.” She took it, slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. “How long will it be before the deal with the town gets finalized?”

“Laird’s presenting his recommendation to the town council this evening. If there’s no problem with the vote, and with Laird’s support there shouldn’t be, I could have a contract on my desk before the end of the week. After that, we can—”

“But he isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

Willa grimaced. “Presenting his recommendation. He’s not going to the meeting.”

“Of course he is. He’s the mayor.”

Willa told him what had happened at Wynn’s house, and it was Carleton’s turn to grimace. “When’s the next council meeting?” she asked.

“Not for two weeks.”

Willa thought of Bailey, her mind once more manufacturing those moments when she’d fought Wynn off, running in the rain toward her apartment.
The dump where Francine Holloway spreads her legs.
“We can’t wait two weeks,” she said. “We just can’t.”

Carleton nodded. “You’re right. But give me a little more time, okay? The end of the week. I’ll think of something.” He reached out and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “In the meantime, you stay clear of Wynn. And keep your friends away from him, too.”

K
eegan opened his eyes and reached for his phone to check the time, surprised to find he’d dozed off. Good thing he was already deeply tanned. Otherwise, he’d be burnt from having lain for thirty minutes in the early September sunshine. He sat up and pulled his shirt on, picked up the novel he’d let fall to the grass, then got to his feet to head home.

When he reached the park entrance, he saw a black SUV idling in the parking lot. Was that Willa Jaffrey’s gas guzzler? As he drew nearer, he could see her sitting in the driver’s seat, and it looked like she was crying. He couldn’t blame her. That was some pretty heavy shit she’d had dropped on her. Should he do something? No. It wasn’t like he was her friend, which made him wonder where Tweedledee and Tweedledum were. Any other time, they’d be hovering around like flies on garbage. Not that it mattered—she wasn’t his concern. He’d just walk by, pretend he hadn’t seen her.

But he
had
seen her. Christ.

He approached the SUV and tapped on the driver’s window. Startled, Willa glanced away, wiping her face and pushing back her hair as if she could hide the fact she’d been sobbing.

“Hey,” he said when she finally lowered the window. “You okay?” It was a stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

She nodded and tried to smile, but it was a wasted effort. She was a wreck.

“Look,” he said, “that was a hell of a thing. I can’t imagine how you’re doing after hearing all that.”

She nodded again. It was clear she didn’t trust herself to talk.

“Anyway,” he continued awkwardly, “I just wanted you to know I was sorry.” He turned to leave, and he’d almost reached the street when he heard the SUV pull up beside him.

“You have anywhere you need to be right now?” she asked.

“Not exactly what I was expecting,” said Keegan as the SUV swung onto the dirt road. Overhanging branches masked some of the lettering on the sign at the entrance, but he could still make out the words: “Valley View Public Look-off,” and below that in smaller letters, “$500 Fine for Littering.” That threat hadn’t seemed to dissuade many visitors, because the side of the tree-lined road leading up to the viewing area was dotted with several Styrofoam cups, the occasional beer bottle, plastic bags, broken glass, and what appeared to be a T-shirt and a sock.

“Yeah,” said Willa, “the place can look pretty rough right after a weekend.”

“This is all from
one
weekend?”

“Parks Canada staff takes care of the place part-time,” she explained. “Couple times a week, I think. Maybe less.” She braked and eased the vehicle slowly around a large pothole.

“I’m thinking less,” murmured Keegan, marvelling at their sudden conversation. Silence had hung over them since leaving Brookdale, and he’d been unsure how to break it.

He’d been surprised when she’d asked him if he wanted to go for a drive. “I don’t feel like being alone right now,” she’d told him, which made him wonder again why she wasn’t with Celia or Britney, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded and climbed in.

He wasn’t surprised, though, when she turned onto Valley View Road—he guessed she was trying to cope with the news she’d learned by revisiting where it had happened. He understood that. Many times during the past five months, he’d wished he could have done the same thing.

He watched as another pothole loomed ahead and Willa manoeuvred skilfully around it. “You’re a good driver,” he said, more to keep the conversation going than anything else, but it was true.

“Thanks,” she said. “Do you drive?”

“I used to in—” He caught himself. “—Vancouver. We don’t have a car here.”

“Seriously?” she said.

“Yeah, my dad says we don’t need one.”

“He
does
work at Valley Motors, right?”

He grinned, surprised that she was able to crack a joke after what she’d been through. Ahead of them, he could see sunlight reaching through the trees, and in a moment, the SUV rolled beyond the canopy of branches into a clearing bordered on its far side by a rail fence. “Wow,” he said.

The valley beyond the town stretched below them in a panorama of colour: the yellows and golds of grain fields; the reds
and browns of others that, having already been harvested, now lay tilled and fallow; the bright greens where stands of trees still grew; the brilliant blue of the Annapolis River; and swaths of every other colour in between. Keegan thought of the hooked rugs in
The Mountain and the Valley
, and he felt like he was staring at the largest tapestry he’d ever seen.

Willa eased the vehicle to a stop, lowered all four windows, and shut off the motor. A faint ticking under the hood punctuated the silence for a few seconds, and then everything was quiet. Despite the heat that had lingered into late afternoon, a breeze through the open windows made the air bearable, bringing with it the smells of trees and wildflowers and something thicker, earthier, but still welcome after the staleness of the air conditioning.