Pretense (65 page)

Tom laughed, assuming that the relationship was an open one, not understanding that Delancey was completely serious. It had given her no end of satisfaction to tell Chet he couldn't stop by on his way home from the airport because she was going out. He wasn't happy, and Delancey left no doubt in his mind that she didn't care.

She could just about predict the days to follow. Flowers and champagne would arrive, and after that, Chet himself, a gift of some type in his hand. Delancey asked herself why she put up with it. Her standard answer-that she loved him with all her

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heart-was starting to wear thin. She knew that she didn't want to think about it right now.

"I think I've lost you," Tom said, breaking into her thoughts.

"I'm sorry." Delancey was instantly contrite. She would not give Chet the satisfaction of ruining her evening. "Just woolgathering. How's work going for you?"

"Fine."

"I forgot to ask you why you're in town."

"Things are not as busy right now, so I'm headed to a children's writer's conference. We've picked up some of our best authors at those conferences, and my boss thought it would be a good idea."

"Sounds fun."

"Have you never been to one?"

"No, never."

"I think you would enjoy it."

"But why would I go-I mean, aren't they meant to help you get published?"

"They are, but you can also learn new things and see what's going on in the market." Tom stopped and blinked. "On second thought, I've stolen a few authors from other publishers when I've been at those conferences. I don't think you'd enjoy it all that much, Delancey. Don't go."

Delancey found this highly amusing and teased him for some time about where it was and how she could get in without registering. They talked until almost 11:00, and at the end of the evening she was slightly surprised not to find Chet on her doorstep. She went to bed, however, with a smile on her face. He had left five frantic messages on her answering machine.

Zephyr Cove

Why can't anything last? Why do You have to ruin everything? I don't want to think about my mother, and I don't want to think about Jack!
In her mind the words were loudly shouted at God, but as Mackenzie sat on her deck, a book open across her lap, not a whisper could be heard.

It had been going so well. The winter had ended, she had gotten in more skiing than she had ever dreamed of, and then

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she had been there to watch spring arrive and the earth sprout with new life. It had been delightful.

Now it was mid-July, and summer vacationers were crowding the lake, but she didn't care. She had her own little world, and she was happy-happy right up to the minute a young couple moored their boat not far from her house and spent the day eating, laughing, and holding each other close, a day Mackenzie had planned on spending out on the deck with her laptop. She tried not to look, but even turning away did not stop the romantic rock music they played or allow her to miss the sound of their laughter and fun. After just 20 minutes she gave up, heading into the house to pace in frustration until she changed into workout shorts and tank top.

Not even shooting buckets into the basketball hoop the previous owner had put over the garage helped. Noon already on top of her, she cleaned up, climbed into her Jeep, and headed toward Reno.

Every time she drove the Jeep lately, she thought of Jack, and she had no plans to continue with that. However, she didn't bank on the way she would be treated as the car salesman took in her Jeep-in good shape but not brand new-her cutoff jeans, and her T-shirt. She hadn't told the man she could buy his job, let alone one of his cars; she only thought it, and stalked out with her head high. Leaving the Ferrari dealership in disgust and rage, Mackenzie felt as though the whole day was shot.

She wasn't in the mood to write or even go home. For the first time she drove right past the Skylark turnoff that led to her street and headed through South Lake Tahoe, down Highway 50 toward Meyers. She was somewhat calm by then and realized she didn't really want to go anywhere. She grabbed the road that led out to Christmas Valley with plans to turn around and head home, but by then she was driving the speed limit and finally able to enjoy the incredible trees and mountains. The cloth top was off, and the smell of pine floated around her. It was hot, but she loved it, her mood improving by the moment.

She drove for a long time before turning around, and when she did, she decided to pull over and walk awhile. She hadn't worn shoes for that purpose and didn't plan to go far, but the trees, chipmunks, birds, and fresh smell of everything was so inviting that she couldn't resist. She was just climbing from the

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Pretense

seat when there was a loud burst, and she jumped out to see her rear tire go flat on the rim.

For a moment she was so angry she couldn't move. The Jeep was tipped over at an odd angle, and had Mackenzie been wearing boots, she would have kicked the offending tire. All of this was made worse by the fact that her spare was sitting in her garage.

For a moment she told herself this could not be happening. If she just stayed still and woke up, the nightmare would be over. She closed her eyes and tried to think straight.

"Are you all right?" A woman's voice startled her.

Mackenzie's head whipped around, and she watched a woman emerge from the trees, step onto the edge of the road, and walk toward her. She stopped a little ways off and spoke again.

"My name is Roz Cummings, and I live through the trees there. Is there anything I can do?"

For the stupidest reason, Mackenzie felt tears come to her eyes. It might have been because Roz's voice had the same sweet tone as her mother's.

"May I use your phone?" Mackenzie asked, not able to stem the flow.

"Of course." Roz smiled kindly, not commenting on the tears. "Come this way and we'll go through the backyard. I heard the pop. Was it your tire?"

Mackenzie could only nod before she reached for her keys and followed the other woman through the trees, through the gate in the fence, across the green grass, and into a dining area right off the kitchen at the back of the house.

"Here you go," Roz handed Mackenzie a cordless phone. "Do you need the phone book?"

"I don't think so." She couldn't believe how teary she was. "I think the number is in my wallet." It wasn't until right then that she realized her purse was in the Jeep. Mackenzie's hand came to her mouth in an effort to stop crying. Roz stood in surprise and then compassion as she wondered whether she might be hurt. It was such a helpless feeling to have this stranger crying in her kitchen. She finally went for the box of tissue and pressed one into Mackenzie's hand.

Mackenzie used it and tried to speak. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I just need to go get my purse. I'm sorry."

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"It's all right," Roz said and meant it. "I'll stay here and make you something cold to drink. You go get whatever you need."

Mackenzie nodded and moved out the door. It was just plain stupid to leave her purse, but right now she was making a fool of herself, so that action seemed rather par for the course. Sniffing and dribbling all the way, she retraced her steps, grabbed her purse, and by the time she was back in Roz's kitchen, had the number out for the auto club and her emotions somewhat in control.

"Tell them to honk when they get there, so you can stay in here out of the heat until they arrive," Roz told Mackenzie while she dialed. The younger woman was still explaining where she was when Roz put a tall, frosty glass in front of her. The club said it would be close to an hour before help arrived, and Mackenzie cringed at the thought of imposing on this woman's hospitality for that long. She pushed the off button on the phone, set it down, and opened her mouth to explain.

"Drink up," Roz cut in, and Mackenzie glanced down, suddenly so parched she could hardly talk. She was still drinking when a teenage girl entered the room.

"Hey, Mom." She seemed not to even notice the other woman. "The Cantrells want me to baby-sit tonight. Is that going to work?"

"I think so. How late?"

"Not very. They're going shopping and out to dinner is all."

"Okay. Are they picking you up or are we taking you?"

"Oh, I'll call and ask, but they usually pick me up."

"Okay."

"Hello," the teen said, her smile as warm as her mother's.

"Hello."

"This is my daughter Sabrina," Roz was swift to explain.

Mackenzie smiled at her and then remembered she had never given her name. "I'm Mackenzie Bishop."

"Mackenzie Bishop?" the teenager questioned, leaning a little closer.

"Yes."

"
The
Mackenzie Bishop who writes the books?"

Mackenzie blinked. She had never been recognized before, but then she was not very social.

"Yes, I write books, but they're a little young for you."

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Sabrina shook her head. "I read them to the kids I baby-sit, and they love 'em. We've spent more time on the Micah Bear search-and-find book than any other they own."

"Who is this, Rina? Jonathan Cantrell?"

"Yes. He'll be so excited to learn that I've met you."

Mackenzie felt herself smiling. The teen's praise was so genuine and warm, and with a little cold tea inside of her, she was feeling much better.

"It is exciting," Roz was saying. "An author right here in our kitchen. I won't gush though." She put her hand up. "You must get that all the time and hate it."

Mackenzie laughed in spite of herself. "As a matter of fact, I don't. This is the first time."

"Oh, wow, can you believe that, Mom? I've seen your books everywhere. That's so cool."

"Well, we are honored then," Roz said with a huge smile. Small talk followed, punctuated by the honking of a truck. "That'll be them," the hostess spoke as she stood.

"Come on, Rina, let's walk Mackenzie back to her Jeep."

They did this quietly and stood back while Mackenzie spoke with the auto club man and showed him her card. They waited with her while he prepared to tow the Jeep to the nearest station for repair. Mackenzie would ride along in the cab of the truck.

"Thank you, Roz," Mackenzie said when it looked like he was almost done. "Can I pay you for the call?"

"No, no, don't worry about that. We were just glad to help." Roz touched her gently on the arm. "You take care of yourself and stop back anytime."

Mackenzie thanked her again, smiled at Sabrina, and went to the truck. It had started out as an awful day but hadn't ended so badly. Roz Cummings was the nicest person she had met in a long time. Mackenzie finally felt at peace with her thoughts, so much so that she was ready to write again, something she did until late that night.

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Thirty-Six

It
took much longer than normal, but Mackenzieby thought she might have a decent batch of cookies. She had overslept because of her late night but still got up with Roz Cummings on her mind. She had been remarkably kind and the first woman in a long time to whom Mackenzie felt drawn. She had never been a person who couldn't accept gifts, but the way Roz had not mentioned the way she had blubbered in her kitchen made her want to do something for her in return.

Baking and cooking had never been her strong points, but at this point Mackenzie was willing to give it a try. Her mother used to make an iced oatmeal molasses cookie that was wonderful, and Mackenzie was now at the icing stage. Not able to resist, she popped one into her mouth. A moment later she was at the sink, spitting it out and getting a drink to wash the taste from her mouth. Still swishing away the bitter taste, she stood with one hip propped against the counter and stared out the French doors that led off the kitchen to the deck.

The cookie hadn't been sweet at all. Could she have actually left out the sugar? Mackenzie couldn't believe it, but there was no denying that the cookie had been awful. The sugar was the only logical conclusion she could draw. What else could it be? She ended up dumping the whole batch down the garbage disposal, telling herself it had been a sappy idea anyway. She went up to the loft with the intention of writing, and she got a lot accomplished, but the next morning Roz Cummings was still on her mind.

It was only a little after nine o'clock when Mackenzie headed out the door to drive to Christmas Valley. The road where the tire went flat was familiar, but it took a moment to find the exact street

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Roz's house faced. Mackenzie felt her palms grow damp as she climbed from the Jeep, but she knew she had to do this. Her face flamed at the thought of Roz thinking she was some kind of weirdo, and she was relieved when Sabrina answered the door.

"Hi, Mackenzie," she said as if it were an everyday thing. "How are you?"

"I'm all right. I just wanted to drop this off." She held out the second Micah Bear search book. "It's for Jonathan. That was his name, wasn't it?"

"Yes! Oh, cool. Come on in," Sabrina stepped back and invited. "Mom! Mackenzie Bishop's here, and she brought a book for Jonathan Cantrell."

"Well, Mackenzie," Roz came around the corner as Mackenzie stepped over the threshold, "this is so nice. And look at this gorgeous book. Come in and have a cup of coffee."

"Oh, I don't want to be in the way. I just wanted to thank you again for Tuesday."

"Well, you're welcome," she said as she walked away. "I'll just get you a cup of coffee."

Mackenzie felt she had no choice but to follow.