Out of Bounds (9 page)

Four hours later, he and his three sons had packed up every collection. With the money she’d already borrowed from Maddy and her own resources, she was left with a deficit of only eighteen thousand dollars.

She’d just poured herself a celebratory beer when her aunt Phyllis, Maddy’s mom, called.

“Maddy told me what your mother did.” Her aunt’s voice had the same rich tone as Maddy’s. “She also told me you’re taking out a loan to cover the damages.”

“Please keep it a secret.” Her aunt was married to her dad’s brother. She’d been a voice of reason over the years when Posy felt overwhelmed by her mom. “It would be terrible if anyone found out.”

“You mean your mom would be arrested if anyone found out.”

“That, too.”

“I might have raised a nun,” her aunt said, “but I’m no saint.”

Posy smiled at the familiar joke.

“I mean that,” her aunt continued. “I’m not a saint and I’m not a martyr and this has gone on long enough with your mom, kiddo. Maddy said you swore you’d stop swooping in to rescue Trish if you can get her out of this one last mess.”

“Believe me, Aunt Phyllis, it’s the truth.”

“Then I want to help. How much money do you need?”

Posy was so startled she almost dropped the phone. “No, Aunt Phyllis. You can barely tolerate my mom. I can’t let you pay her debts.”

“This isn’t for Trish. It’s for you. My own daughter took a vow of poverty. If I give my money to her order, they’ll just use it for more sheep. I want to help you. Right now, while I’m still alive to see you get out from under your mom’s crazy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“You can tell me how much you need and then you can say thanks. You can also tell me you’ll let me spoil your future children since Maddy, bless her, isn’t going to give me any grandchildren.”

She thought about lying, giving her aunt a much smaller figure, because she really didn’t want to take her money. But then she thought about Wes and the way he looked when he talked about his brother and the Fallon Foundation. She had to make this right and she couldn’t let anything, including her pride, get in the way. “Eighteen thousand dollars,” she said. “But I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. I’m selling my mom’s—”

“No explanation necessary. You’ll take care of this, Posy. Don’t worry about a thing.”

After she thanked her aunt so profusely the woman threatened to take her offer back, she hung up the phone. She was so incredibly relieved and upset all at the same time. She was used to cleaning up after her mom, not to asking for help for herself. Shame and relief overwhelmed her. She put her face down on her arms and cried.

Angel came over and put her paws up on her knee. Posy lifted her head and the dog whined. When she picked her up, Angel licked her face once and then leaned against her chest. Posy cried a little more, but somehow holding the dog made her feel less desperate.

When she’d cried herself out, she picked up the phone and called Wes.

* * *

W
HEN
HIS
CELL
PHONE
rang, Wes was asleep on the couch,
SportsCenter
running softly on the TV behind his head. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled the phone out, hoping it wasn’t Deacon not so subtly touching base to be sure he hadn’t walked in front of another truck.

He didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Wes, it’s Posy Jones. I have your check. Where can I meet you?”

She rushed the entire thing out so fast it took him a second to process what she’d said. When he got it, he stood up and jumped, pumping his fist as if he’d just dunked on a breakaway drive.

“Good,” he said into the phone. “That’s good.”

He hadn’t realized how nervous he was about that money until the exhilaration he felt at her call. He was really, really happy that he wasn’t going to have to file a police report on Posy’s mom.

“Let’s go out to—” He almost said “to celebrate,” but that would let her know that he’d had his doubts. “I haven’t been anywhere in downtown Kirkland yet. I’d love to see the sights.”

“I actually have a lot to do here at the house. I’ll just meet you somewhere and give you the check. Are you in your office?”

“It’s seven o’clock on Saturday night.”

And he was asleep on his couch, getting turned down for a date by a very hot woman. Was his life really going to be this pathetic now that he wasn’t playing ball? He might as well be at the office.

“Oh, right. So where should we meet?”

“Jay told me about some place called the Lemon Drop Café. Meet me there and I’ll buy you a drink.” He’d never been a guy who stood on pride when there was the possibility he could talk someone into fun. “Come on, Posy. I’m supposed to be building goodwill for my brother’s project but I haven’t been anywhere. Where’s that small-town hospitality you hear about in the movies?”

“I don’t live in Kirkland anymore. Maybe Jay is free.”

“He’d probably make me sign his napkin.”

He hoped she smiled at that.

“Fine. We can meet at the Lemon Drop. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Kirkland is not Madrid.”

* * *

S
HE
’
D
PACKED
enough clothes for four days when she came and she was running out of options. She managed to put together a decent outfit, though, pairing her favorite, curve-hugging jeans with a slim tank under a loosely woven silk sweater. The sweater had baggy sleeves that ended at the elbow and a low scoop neck that showed off her collarbone and a touch of cleavage. She rooted through her mom’s jewelry box and turned up a pair of dangly silver earrings with small sparkly stones. The outfit was just dressy enough for the Lemon Drop without looking as if she’d put a lot of effort into how she looked.

She clipped Angel’s leash on and called the number Maddy had given her for her mom’s room at the Knoll. The phone rang while she waited for Angel to do her business in the yard, but when her mom didn’t pick up, it transferred over to the Guest Services desk.

She didn’t want to leave a message with the person on duty. The fewer people who knew about the money, the better. She hung up and called Maddy.

“The Knoll, Sister Maddy.”

She stopped inside the front door to unhook Angel’s leash.

“Maddy, it’s me.” The dog shook herself, collar and tags jingling as her ears flew. Posy slung her purse over her shoulder. “Listen, can you give my mom a message?”

Angel went up the stairs into the living room and Posy took a final look at herself in the mirror in the hall. She finger combed her hair around her shoulders.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Tell her I got the money and everything is taken care of.” She opened the front door. “You can also tell her that your mom is my favorite aunt ever and has dibs on my future children for spoiling.”

“My mom came through for you?” Maddy asked. “She was pissed when I told her.”

“Isn’t pissed a little vulgar for a woman of the cloth?”

Holding the cell in one hand, she hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and reached behind her to close the door. Angel scampered out between her feet and shot off around the side of the house.

“Damn it,” she said.

“Now who’s vulgar?” Maddy asked.

“My mother’s dog keeps escaping. Trish better get home quick or I’m putting her schnoodle up for adoption.”

“I have to sing in the choir at the evening service or I’d meet you somewhere to celebrate.”

“I’m going downtown,” Posy said. “With Wes.”

Maddy shouted, “Yes!” and Posy held the phone away from her ear.

“Settle down there, Sister Maddy.”

“I’m settled. Just have a good time, okay? Your mom is safe with me. The money is in the bank. You’re free and clear to enjoy yourself.”

She hung up just as an outraged yowl penetrated the night.

A sleek gray cat streaked down her driveway with Angel in hot pursuit.

Enjoy herself.
Right.
She wasn’t going to be able to relax until she wrapped up all of her mom’s business here in Kirkland.

CHAPTER EIGHT

W
ES
TOOK
A
QUICK
SHOWER
and then dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt. His hair was still too short to need any brushing, so after he rolled his cuffs up and tied his shoes, he was ready to go.

It was early, but he wasn’t about to sit in his apartment. He’d already fallen asleep on the couch once and that was more than enough. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be keeping the same hours as Mrs. Meacham.

Jay had said the Lemon Drop was right on Main Street, so he walked the five blocks from his apartment to downtown and started south on Main. If he didn’t find the café, he’d walk back up the other side of the street.

There was no doubt Kirkland was everything a small town should be. He’d lived in a small town, but Milton was depressed and on the run-down side of shabby. Still, the bars and restaurants that survived in downtown Milton weren’t quite as—yuppy?—as the places he was passing now.

A bookstore named Shakespeare’s Attic. A yarn store—Crossed Needles. A coffee shop with a chalkboard sign out front advertising iced mocha and homemade blueberry muffins. Every shop he passed looked as if it had come from a movie set or Walt Disney World.

Kirkland wasn’t exactly Stepford levels of uncomfortable, but there was something to be said for the tacky honesty of the neon beer signs in the window of the Pond, the thriving pizza place in Milton.

He was almost past the Christmas store when the name painted on the window registered. The Wonders of Christmas Shoppe. Wonders—that was Trish Jones’s store. He went back to the door, but the place was locked up and the sign said Closed. He glanced up and down the block. All the other shops and restaurants were open.

He cupped his hands around his eyes and looked through the window, but he couldn’t see much more than a cramped, crowded aisle and a bunch of Christmas trees.

For the second time that night, Wes felt an unexpected rush of relief. Her mom really was out of town. He turned away and crossed the street to the café.

* * *

S
HE
SAW
HIM
as soon as she opened the door at the Lemon Drop. The café tables were mostly small and round, seating four people comfortably and six if they were really good friends. Wes was all alone at a table near the window, his big frame dwarfing the chair. The young guy from the mayor’s office was standing next to him.

“Hey,” Wes said, raising a hand. “Over here, Posy.”

She edged past the two tables between them and then eased her bag down under the table.

“Posy, did you meet Ryan yesterday?”

The guy held his hand out and she shook it. “Nice to see you again, Ryan.”

“You, too.” He turned back to Wes. “Well, you probably don’t want to talk business.... Like I said, I don’t think the variance is going to be a problem. The presentation at the zoning hearing will probably be just a formality at this point. I know several of them were donors to the fundraiser Posy’s mom ran—Chloe Chastain reached out to a lot of the local businesspeople.”

“Perfect. We’re announcing the results of the fundraiser at Equipment Day tomorrow.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and then Ryan said goodbye.

She picked up a menu and flipped it from front to back. “See anything that looks good?”

“I sure do,” Wes said. “Were you fishing for a compliment?”

“No!” Posy said. “I meant the menu.”

“Of course you did.” He put his menu next to his plate. “I’m having a burger. And you look really nice tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you own the cheesy-pick-up-line manual or did you borrow it from some guy on the team?”

“Sincere statements of fact are never cheesy. You do look nice.”

The open collar of his shirt emphasized the lean and chiseled lines of his shoulders and neck. A few strands of curly dark hair showed above the unbuttoned second button.

“You look very nice tonight, too,” she said. In a world where “very nice” was a synonym for “drop-dead sexy,” that was.

He asked questions about Kirkland and she answered as honestly as she could, describing the good and bad of growing up in a small town that prided itself on a reputation for clean and cute. She knew it wasn’t universally true, but for her, the daughter of a Main Street shop owner, there’d always been the message that the town was watching. Judging.

On the other hand, the more he told her about the Hand-to-Hand project, the more certain she was that it was a great fit for Kirkland. People were generous here with time and money and his program offered a breadth of interests that would draw volunteers, she was sure.

They’d each had a piece of pie and as they were waiting for the waitress to bring the bill, Posy pulled out her purse. She opened the zippered inside pocket where she kept her emergency cash and pulled out the check she’d written to the Fallon Foundation.

Her hand shook, bumping against his as she handed it over. “Sorry,” she said. “I never wrote a check that big before.” She felt sick to her stomach, looking at her signature, but she wasn’t sure if that was from relief or worry. She couldn’t believe she’d just written a check to a charity for an amount that was very close to her annual salary. She hoped her mom’s house would sell quickly and that she’d be able to pay her aunt and her cousin back.

Wes held the check. “I’m still floored that a simple blog posting could pull in this kind of money.”

Posy realized a woman had stopped next to their table and she looked up.

Chloe Chastain. Of all the rotten, rotten luck.

“Posy,” Chloe said. “What a surprise. When your mom left town suddenly, I assumed she was visiting you.”

“She’s actually on a silent retreat out at the Knoll.”

“A silent retreat,” Chloe said. “Trish?”

Chloe had always been pretty, with big blue eyes and blond hair. Her hair wasn’t naturally blond anymore, but highlights had been expertly applied to give her warm brown hair a fresh boost. She’d changed in other ways, too, but there wasn’t a single thing Posy could put her finger on. She’d subtly grown from a pretty but mean-spirited girl into a woman who looked calculated—too carefully put together, but still undeniably gorgeous.

Everything she said had an undercurrent, though. Or at least Posy thought it did.

Chloe smiled at Wes.

“Chloe Chastain.” She held out her hand. “Are you new in town or just visiting like Posy?”

Wes pushed his chair back and stood in one fluid motion. He took Chloe’s hand and shook it warmly.

“Chloe Chastain!” he said. “I’m Wes Fallon. I was so sorry I couldn’t connect with you yesterday. My family can’t thank you enough for the help you gave with the fundraiser. It was flat-out fantastic.”

Chloe pressed his hand between both of hers. “When I heard about the good work your foundation does, I couldn’t help myself. But it was really my readers...and Trish’s, of course...who did the hard work.”

She held on to Wes’s hand as she looked back at Posy. “Your mom went on a retreat, you said? Is that why I haven’t been able to get in touch with her since she collected the money?”

“I gave the check to Wes a few minutes ago, so everything is all set.” She pointed to it on the table. A moment ago she’d felt sick, but now she felt a twinge of pride. Her mom had made a big mistake, but she’d fixed it so now there was no way Chloe could get to Trish.

Chloe smiled and cocked her head toward the check. “I’m still shocked by how much my readers contributed. It’s an impressive number, isn’t it?” Then her eyebrows drew together and she looked more closely. “Why is it written on your account, Posy? I thought your mom had a special account set up for the money from donors?”

Damn it. Why hadn’t she asked her mom about that? “She’s on retreat,” Posy repeated helplessly.

Wes picked the check up and looked at it more closely, but when Chloe edged toward it, he folded it and slid it into the chest pocket of his shirt.

“Well, I don’t see how you could write it from your account—” Chloe started.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Chloe. I gave Wes all the documentation for the donors. He has the check. Everything’s settled.”

“We’ll see you at the ceremony at Equipment Day tomorrow,” Wes said. “My brother and sister-in-law want to thank you in person.”

Chloe pushed her bracelets up her arm and nodded. “I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it. I can’t wait to see Trish again.”

Posy excused herself to use the restroom and when she came back out, Chloe and Wes were both gone. For a moment she thought they’d left together, maybe to head straight to police headquarters. But then she saw Wes pacing outside, his long-legged stride in fitted jeans sexier than normal for Main Street in Kirkland.

* * *

“
T
HAT
’
S
YOUR
MOM
’
S
STORE
across the street?” he asked when she joined him outside.

Posy nodded. “Wonders. That’s it.”

“Can we go in?”

“You want to shop?”

What he wanted was to spend some more time with Posy to figure out what the hell was going on. Chloe had hinted that he should look more closely at the finances for the fundraiser and that she would be doing her own digging. He had to admit, it didn’t look quite right that the check had come from Posy’s personal account. But the point was that the money was there and the donors would get their acknowledgments that their funds were received.

He still felt a nagging worry, though. Getting the money wasn’t the only point.

If Chloe decided to stir up trouble for Trish, she’d be stirring up trouble for Deacon, as well. He hoped she was just talking, but he wasn’t sure.

“I’d like to see it. Your mom ran this fundraiser for us on her store blog—it’s part of the Fallon Foundation lore now.”

“Wonders is part of your lore,” Posy said. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

They crossed the street together and she dug a set of keys out of her huge bag. When she opened the door, a set of bells jingled and a wave of holiday-scented air hit him.

“Sorry. The place has been closed up for a few days.”

She stepped inside and flicked on a few panels of lights while he took in the space.

“Holy cow, Posy. There is a lot of stuff here.”

She moved behind him and closed and locked the door again.

“The Wonders of Christmas. All here at your fingertips.”

It was impossible to take the place in all at once. He was astounded at the sheer number of things her mom had for sale. And many of them were very detailed. He leaned down to inspect a tiny village scene with skaters on a pond and a chapel with a flock of pigeons around the steps. Each pigeon was the size of a raisin. He picked one up and looked at the price tag. Two bucks a bird. The flock would cost as much as a ticket to see his old team play in Madrid.

“People pay for this stuff?”

“Not enough,” Posy said. “The store’s been losing money. That’s why it’s closed. My mom’s going out of business.”

He started to walk toward the front of the store, but he ran into a garland someone had strung at strangulation level right across the aisle.

“Sorry about that,” Posy said.

He ducked and carefully extricated himself. “My fault.”

She stayed near the door while he made his way toward the register. He stopped near a manger scene that was at once realistic and spiritual. The faces of the figures were painted in a way that reflected their humanity, with care lines and even laugh wrinkles near their eyes.

“This is amazing, Posy.” He bent over so he could see the figures more clearly. Even the stable was nicely detailed. He lifted a camel and touched the tassel on its head collar. “My sister-in-law would love this. Can I buy one?”

Posy threw her head back. “You’re shopping?”

He put the camel down and picked up a king. “I guess so.”

She came up and stood near him, the lights from outside pooling on the floor of the store near them, but leaving her in the shadows thrown by the dim lights she’d turned on inside the store. “Seriously?”

He put the king down, being careful to put it in the exact spot he’d found it. “I can come back some other time if you don’t want to pack it up now.”

She lifted her arms and let them fall in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll go in the back and find a box. I have to get rid of all this stuff for my mom anyway, so I’m not going to turn down a customer.”

He followed her into the stockroom at the back of the store. “You’re helping your mom close the store?”

“Not so much helping as doing the whole thing for her.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how things go with my mom. She is...
easily overwhelmed.” Posy sounded resigned and maybe slightly bitter, but not angry. “I’ve been bugging her to close the store and sell her house for years. Now that she’s actually willing to do it, I don’t mind taking care of things for her. It’s how our relationship works.”

He remembered Chloe’s face when she saw Posy’s signature on the check. He didn’t want to think about what other things Posy might have taken care of for her mother.

“What’s she going to do once all this is gone?”

“I’m not sure. She has a boyfriend. Or maybe she’ll get an apartment here.”

“And you’ll be there to help her figure it all out?”

“No. She’s going to figure it out on her own this time.”

He started to laugh, but she said, “Nope. I’m really finished. I love her, but she’s got to start handling her own life.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Was Posy really going to cut her mom off? Could she? He knew families were all different. He’d lived with enough bad examples to know exactly how wrong families could get their relationships. He just hadn’t expected to hear Posy say something like that.

When they got back to the manger display with a box and a stack of tissue paper, Wes started to help her wrap the pieces and stow them.

“You must have had the most amazing Christmases when you were a kid,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose. “My mom’s a Christmas professional. That translates into a lot of stress about details and schedules that are way, way too busy. When my parents were together, they fought almost every year for the entire month of December. After they divorced, I’d go to my dad’s the day after Christmas and stay through New Year’s. He had an artificial tree and a stocking for me and we’d get a tray of cookies from the bakery down the street.”