Not So New in Town (4 page)

She turned the bag over. “Seven ninety-five! Hell, you can buy two bags of groceries for that at the Toot-N-Tell.”

Define
groceries.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” she added. “You ever run a fifty-percent-off sale?”

A sharp, hammer-like pounding started behind his forehead. He hadn’t worked this hard to sell something since junior year, when he tried to convince Julia to go to second base down by the lake. “Nope. No current sales, but from one businessperson to another”—he took the granola from her hand and plopped it inside a BetterBites eco-friendly shopping bag—“it’s on the house. I want you to try it and let me know what you think.”

“Alrighty. I’ll do that.” She spun on her cowboy boots, and her swinging hips headed for the front door. “You been by to visit Julia and that son of…er, her son?”

This time he pressed his fingers into his aching forehead. Weird reality TV like
Wild Bachelorettes Over 70
didn’t hold a candle to his life these days. “No, but I spoke with her over the phone last week about putting my house on the market. Lucy’s back in town to help Julia. She got here today.”

Dottie turned, holding open the front door. “Loco Lucy? Aw, well, isn’t that sweet? I hope those two can make up and act like real sisters.” If they didn’t kill each other first. Brogan worried about the sisters’ reunion.

“Good to see you.” Brogan gave a short wave as the heavy door closed, taking Dottie and the hot air with her.

A hard hand clapped him on the shoulder. “This is one screwy town,” Javier said, shaking his head.

“Shee-it. Don’t I know it.”

Lucy had wrestled her bags upstairs to her old bedroom and dumped them on the oval braided rug covering the wood floor. Even after all these years, the hint of Charlie perfume, Lucy’s favorite as a teenager, still lingered in the air. Lucy remembered the excitement of feeling all grown-up on her thirteenth birthday, when her dad had given her a bottle of it. She’d worn that scent for years. Her old wrought iron double bed remained, with her butterfly quilt and matching shams. Valences in the same fabric crowned the two windows, and baby-blue chintz panels framed the sides. Gone were the painted butterflies, bees, and small white daisies that had dotted her walls. The rock-band posters of Bon Jovi and Counting Crows had been removed, holes had been patched, and fresh, pale-yellow paint covered the walls. Familiar and yet different. The same way Lucy felt being back home.

Happiness and sadness collided and turned Lucy’s insides into a tidal wave. Part of her was excited to be spending time with Parker and getting to know him. But melancholy hit her over the lost time she’d never get back. Her own stubbornness had played a major role, as well as the feud between her and Julia. Rolling her knotted neck to relieve tension, she exhaled. Time to hunt down her disjointed family. She peeled off her sweaty travel clothes and pulled on a soft, aqua knit top over a pair of clean white jeans. After washing up, she applied fresh makeup, pulled her hair back in a sleek ponytail, checked her jewelry, and squared her shoulders.

“Now or never. Operation Lucy to the Rescue is about to commence.” She barreled down two flights of stairs to the bonus room where Harper Doolan’s navy-blue Naugahyde recliner sat with its worn head and armrests. The upholstery emitted a faint smell of her dad’s favorite cigars. Swamped with memories, she pictured herself sitting in her dad’s lap, reading while he surfed the sports channels. Her heart clenched, and she wished he were home where he belonged…not living in some Oceanside condo in Naples, Florida, with his latest bride, Constance La Rue, a trade-show model. They’d met at the Miami Beach Convention Center’s boat show, where Harper had been hunting for a new fishing boat. Instead of coming home with a boat, he’d come home with the
Princess
Yacht
’s hood ornament: Constance, his thirty-four-year-old wife. Only two years older than Lucy. How was that for crazy and colorful?

Her sweet nephew, eyes glued to the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, sat on the overstuffed sofa with his size-eleven sneakers propped on the pine coffee table. Above his head, her dad’s pride and joy hung mounted on the wall, a large blue marlin, flanked by numerous photos and brass fishing plaques. For a moment, she stood quietly and drank in the sight of Parker, wishing she knew him better. He’d shot up at least two feet since the last time she’d seen him.

“Hey, Parks,” Lucy called out in a cheery voice. His head jerked up from whatever gaming thingy was keeping him entranced. Dark blue eyes peered at her from under a lock of wavy brown hair that fell over his forehead. No more soft, baby-fat cheeks she remembered kissing. Instead, patches of new beard grew in spots on his half-man, half-boy face.

“Remember me? Aunt Lucy?” She bent to retrieve a plastic plate and burger wrapper that littered the patterned mauve-and-navy carpet. “I know it’s been a few years, but—”

“I know who you are,” he said as if Moron was her middle name.

“Sure, sure. It’s just that it’s been like two years and…you’ve gotten so big. Wow. What do you eat these days? Brontosauruses? Along with a side of beef?” A nervous laugh bubbled forth.

Parker’s fathomless blue gaze drilled her. Lucy’s heart tumbled. One day he’d be a real lady-killer. Not today. Lucy could’ve sworn his lip curled in disdain.
Look, kid…cut me some slack.
At
least
I’m trying.
She lifted her chin. “Anyway, I’m here now. You know, to help take care of you and your mom.” Another bored look. “I mean, I know you can take care of yourself. You’re practically a grown man, but your mom thought it’d be helpful if I could run car pool. That kind of stuff.” Parker had refocused on his game and didn’t appear to be listening. His hands gripping the black plastic control as if it might crack told a different story. “Uh, I’m getting ready to check on your mom. Anything you want to tell me? We’re going to review your schedule and—”

“Whatever. I don’t need you managing my schedule.” Parker tossed the game control on the table and blew past her. Before Lucy could react, the sound of the slamming back door rang in her ears.

“Lovely.” She planted a fist on her cocked hip. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy, but the attitude hitting her in the face from her sullen nephew would be tough to smack down. Not the welcome home she’d been expecting. Lucy sighed, gathering bowls covered in dried-up ice cream, and candy wrappers. “Well, looks like we at least have our diets in common…that’s something.”

“Lucy! Is that you?”

At the sound of Julia’s whiny voice, Lucy’s insides lurched. “Coming,” she answered as she detoured to the kitchen to dump the garbage and dishes. Muffled by the thick navy-and-hot-pink Oriental runner, Lucy’s steps hesitated as she walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom. As she stood outside the door in the darkened hallway, the urge to flee almost overcame her. She squeezed the brass doorknob. She and Julia had so much dirty water under the bridge, it had become an ocean. Could she put the past behind her and extend the olive branch? Would Julia graciously accept or throw it back in her face? Taking deep breaths to calm her nerves, Lucy almost convinced herself that everything would work out. Almost. She tapped at the partially closed paneled door to the master bedroom before pushing it open.

“Hey. How you feeling?” she asked, poking her head inside.

Julia, surrounded by white fluffy pillows, sat in the middle of the four-poster, king-size bed that used to be Lucy’s dad’s. A pink chenille throw covered the lower half of her body. Soft light from the lace-covered windows lit her shiny, dark hair. If not for the slight baby bump under the covers, Lucy would’ve never guessed Julia was pregnant, much less seven months along. Papers and folders littered the bed as Julia tapped on her laptop. When she and Julia had spoken over the phone, she’d known Julia’s doctor was taking every precaution to keep her from going into early labor.

“You’re here, finally.” Julia barely glanced up from the computer screen in her lap. “I really appreciate you coming to help.”
Tap, tap, tap
went the keys. “I have so much work to do, and my assistant is out with the stomach flu. So now I’m relying on Jake the Snake to show my properties. That scheming jerk,” she growled at the screen. “I’ve been working on this client for over three months and—” Julia’s head popped up, and perfect plump lips opened on a gasp. Her beautiful oval face and dark blue eyes hadn’t changed. The same eyes her son had. “Your hair. What in the world have you done with it?” She clutched her silky pink camisole, as if somehow Lucy’s hairstyle was contagious. Julia’s expression reflected all the horror associated with anything hair related. The night before Julia’s big debut as Homecoming Queen had to be flashing through both their minds. The night Lucy had pulled the scandalous “hair emergency” prank that had gotten the whole town talking.

“I straighten it with a hot iron. And a few blond highlights are nothing to get worked up over.” Lucy brushed her silky ponytail. “I decided to try something new…you know, fresh.” Actually, Anthony, the lowlife locust-eater, had insisted she tame her unruly, curly mass, but she had no intention of mentioning that. “Uh, you look great. You feeling okay? How’s the baby?” Lucy rearranged a couple of pillows near Julia’s back, scurrying to change the subject before they started down the unwanted path called memory lane.

“Wonderful. As long as I don’t move or lift anything heavier than a tissue, the baby will be fine.” A huge exaggerated sigh escaped her lips. “I’m the miserable one. Sitting in this bed, watching my baby grow is great, but I’m about to go loco.”

Lucy flinched at her least favorite word,
loco
. With narrowed eyes, she studied her sister, who appeared innocent, but appearances could be deceiving.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here for two months. It might as well be two years!”

Lucy could only imagine. Not one to sit around much herself, she knew this confinement would be hard for Julia, with her type A personality. As one of the top-selling agents in her brokerage firm, Julia stayed very busy with her real estate business, running from one appointment to the next.

“I know, but I’m here to help. You need to rest and not stress yourself out, like the doctor ordered.”

“I’m trying. Knowing you’re here eases my mind. Even though it took some serious convincing on my part.”

Lucy’s smile tightened. “You explained your situation, and I agreed to help.” Okay, so Julia laid on the guilt, and Lucy crumbled like a saltine cracker…it was still the right thing to do. “But we need to talk about Parker. I don’t think he’s too happy to see me.”

Julia waved her hand dismissively. “He’ll get over it. Parker is…I can’t explain—”

Alarmed, Lucy asked, “Is he okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine. He’s just having a hard time adjusting…to the baby, that’s all. Thank goodness football practice is starting up, because he needs a purpose and some place to go to hang out with guys. He doesn’t get much of that here.”

Living inside this bubble-gum-pink house probably didn’t help either. “I’m sure. I’ll do my best—”

“Ugh! I’m dying here.” Julia flopped back against the mahogany headboard. “Sorry, but I need more flavored water. Only two cubes of ice, a dash of lemon, and three mint leaves. Use the fresh mint growing in the red pot on the windowsill. Not the ones stored in the fridge. They make my water bitter. Oh, and while you’re at it, please make me an egg-white omelet with Gruyere cheese and a few chives. Use two eggs and the chives in the green pot next to the mint. Just a dash of salt…not too much. It makes me swell up like a hot-air balloon.”

Julia eased forward, holding her stomach, refocusing her attention on her laptop as she extended one hand with a large plastic tumbler to Lucy.
And
that was the extent of their reunion. Not that Lucy minded. Her system could only handle one shock per day. Being home and back in Harmony was heart-attack inducing enough; add in Brogan Reese, the crush who kept on crushing, and Lucy might need medical assistance.

“Sure,” Lucy mumbled as she took the cup from Julia’s manicured fingers. “Julia, we really need to talk about Parker and his schedule.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve already emailed it to you.” Tapping from the keyboard filled the room. “Annnd, send.” She clicked the Send button with flourish. “Feed me, and we can have a good long chat. Now that you’re finally home.” Julia settled back against the pillows, appearing relaxed. “Oh, and Luce, I have a wonderful hairdresser, in case you’re interested.” The syrupy pageant smile that had won Julia the crown at homecoming, along with queen of Harmony’s Pickle Parade, appeared on her face. The smile that always meant trouble when directed at Lucy. Lucy might as well get it over with and shave her head bald, because she wasn’t going anywhere near Julia’s hairdresser.
Note
to
self: buy dead bolt for bedroom door.

Lucy slipped from the room, escaping into the kitchen.
Holy crud balls!
How was she ever going to last two months? Dante’s
Inferno
had nothing on Lucy’s current purgatory. She twirled a lock of hair, first pulling straight down and then rolling it around her index finger. Round and round the soft strand went until she practically cut off her circulation.

“Don’t be such a ninny. You’re thirty-two. Not fifteen. She’s just messing with you. So you pulled a nasty prank. You were an immature teenager with hurt feelings. Nobody cares anymore.” She continued to lecture herself as she refilled Julia’s water and pulled eggs and cheese from the refrigerator. “It’s not like the whole town will still be going on about how you whacked Julia’s hair off with gardening shears while she slept.” But after all these years, Lucy got the sneaky feeling Julia still wanted to extract her pound of flesh.

She fumbled while trying to separate egg whites from the yolks. Beating with a fork, she hoped Julia wouldn’t notice the slight yellow color. She chopped a few chives and grated some cheese. And who was she kidding? Of course all eleven thousand Harmony residents remembered that ill-fated night. And of course they’d still be talking about it. Talk, talk, gossip, gossip, chirp, chirp, cheep, cheep all over the place like a bunch of pecking Henny Pennys. Hell’s bells, Harmony held an Olympic gold medal for the sport of gossiping.

Lucy struggled to fold the thin layer of egg whites with lots of yolk in the bottom of the Teflon-coated frying pan. After several futile attempts, she dumped the mangled mess onto a plate, attempting camouflage by sprinkling chives on top and hoping Julia wouldn’t notice her lack of culinary skills or the fact that the eggs were scrambled. With plate and glass in hand, she trudged down the hallway to the shark tank where her stepsister bent on revenge swam.

“Here you go. Just as you ordered.” Julia had cleared her lap of papers and reached for the plate.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesave—” Julia blinked at the mauled mess of eggs hiding under the chopped chives.

“Sorry. Must’ve missed the class on omelet making, but I’m sure they taste fine. The baby won’t know the difference.” Lucy plumped a few lacy pillows behind Julia and smoothed the pink blanket. “Eat those yummy eggs while you give me the lowdown on Parker. When I spoke to him earlier, he seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Clearly, he’s not thrilled with the present situation…or me.”

Lucy scooted the pink armchair close and sat. Julia proceeded to pick at the eggs with her fork, as if Lucy had scrambled slugs, chasing each bite with huge gulps of water, trying not to gag.

After swallowing half her water, she said, “Parker is just being Parker. Moody. Sullen. A pain in my butt. Basically, a fifteen-year-old kid.” She placed the barely eaten eggs on the nightstand.