The Truth About Tara (13 page)

Her smile grew. “Should we throw in another line?”

“Maybe not today,” he said. “I’d be bummed if we caught a really big fish. I forgot to buy an ice bucket, so we couldn’t keep it.”

“Danny won’t eat fish, anyway,” Tara said. “All he wants is mac and cheese and cheeseburgers.”

“I think I was the same at that age.”

He stood beside her with his elbows on the rail, gazing into the sparkling water. A sense of contentment washed over him. He doubted he’d enjoy fishing nearly as much if Tara wasn’t with him. She was definitely starting to treat him with less suspicion and more warmth.

“Speaking of my mother and food, Danny and I shouldn’t stay much longer, anyway,” Tara said. “I’m not working at the pub tonight, so Mom invited me over for an early dinner.”

“Six o’clock, right?” Jack asked.

She turned her head sharply. “How do you know what time my mother’s serving dinner?”

“She invited me, too.”

“When was this?”

“Last night at the pub,” he said. “She said in case we didn’t catch anything, she’d make chicken.”

“But...” Tara seemed at a loss for words. “Don’t you have something else to do tonight?’

“Nope,” he said. “The woman I asked out said no.”

She didn’t even smile at that. Considering they’d been getting along well up to this point, Jack couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He’d even been about to ask her out again. “I hate to say anything against my mother, but she’s not a very good cook.”

“Then I’ll look forward to the company.”

“Let me put that another way,” Tara said. “She’s a
bad
cook.”

“Her cooking can’t be as bad as my mom’s,” he said. “Once my mom tried to cook frozen ravioli in the oven. Another time she didn’t use enough flour and her cookies started to boil. The worst, though, was probably when the Thanksgiving turkey caught fire.”

“It did not!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright.

“Technically, it was a grease fire that started when she was trying to take the bird out of the oven,” he said.

“Nobody got hurt, did they?”

“Just the turkey,” he answered.

She covered her mouth with her hand, but a laugh erupted from between her fingers. Their eyes met and he joined in, looking forward to the evening ahead, her mother’s bad cooking and all.

CHAPTER NINE

J
ACK
FINISHED
HIS
LAST
spoonful of Cajun chicken pasta and followed it with a bite of French bread, savoring the flavors that melded in his mouth.

“That was delicious, Carrie,” he said. “Best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

“Why, thank you.” Carrie bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. “If there’s one thing I know how to do well, it’s cook.”

Jack tried to catch Tara’s eye from across the table in a dining room that, like the rest of the house, was more cozy than formal. Tara’s attention was riveted on her food, understandable considering how wonderful it tasted. He suspected, however, that Tara was deliberately ignoring him.

Earlier today on the pier, he could have sworn they’d made a connection.

Then why had she lied about her mother being a terrible cook? The only reason Jack could fathom was that she hadn’t wanted him at dinner.

Danny rose from the table, shoving his chair backward so that it made a scratching sound on the hardwood floor.

“What are you doing, Dan the man?” Carrie asked.

“I need to go to Billy,” Danny said. “He misses me.”

Billy was Danny’s new kitten. Danny had been so eager to show it off that he’d been waiting on the front porch with the kitten when Jack arrived.

“You can’t check up on Billy until you’re excused from the table,” Carrie said.

Danny screwed up his face. “How do I get excused?”

“You know how,” Carrie said, no hint of impatience in her voice. “You ask.”

“C-can I be excused?” Danny asked.

“Yes, you most certainly may,” Carrie said.

The boy stomped off toward the sunroom where Carrie had insisted he keep the cat while they ate. His footsteps sounded like miniature bursts of thunder.

Tara finally looked up from her food. “Tell me again how you got this cat, Mom.”

In a pale orange v-necked shirt and comfortable-
looking white shorts, Tara wasn’t dressed much more formally than she’d been at the pier. Yet with her hair wavy and loose about her shoulders, she exuded a casual chic. He liked the way her nose sloped and the bow shape of her mouth. He’d like that mouth more if it smiled at him. Or, better yet, molded to his.

“A friend was giving them away,” Carrie said. “It seemed to me that having a pet would be good for Danny.”

“Isn’t Billy one of Gus’s kittens?” Jack asked. A few days ago at camp, Susie had announced that her great-grandmother’s cat was a mom.

Carrie pursed her lips and shifted in her chair. “Yes.”

Tara rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Why didn’t you say Gus was the friend in the first place?”

Carrie waved a hand. “No particular reason.” She stood up. “Who’s ready for dessert? I made key lime pie.”

“I am,” Jack said. “As good as that dinner was, no way am I passing up anything you made.”

Tara half rose. “I’ll help you serve, Mom.”

“No, no,” Carrie said. “You just sit back down and enjoy Jack’s company.”

The instant her mother was gone, Tara’s eyes met Jack’s. “Did you see what she did?”

Jack lifted a corner of his mouth. “Offered you a very wise suggestion?”

“Not that,” Tara said. “She totally didn’t want us to know Gus gave Danny the kitten.”

He’d picked up on that, too. “Why wouldn’t she want us to know?”

“Maybe because there’s something going on between them,” Tara whispered. “Gus told me at O’Malley’s pub that he had a thing for her.”

“Sounds like a good thing.”

“You don’t understand. My mother hasn’t shown any interest in a man since my father died.” Tara bit her lip. Footsteps sounded from the kitchen. “You’ve got to help me find out if something’s going on between them,” she finished in a rush.

Carrie reentered the dining room carrying two plates of key lime pie topped with generous dollops of whipped cream. She placed the desserts in front of Tara and Jack and rejoined them at the table.

“Looks delicious,” Jack said. “Aren’t you having any, Carrie?”

She tossed her blond hair and patted her stomach, which looked flat even under her billowy print dress. “I’m watching my weight.”

“Since when?” Tara asked.

“You know what they say—a woman can never be too rich or too thin.” Carrie shrugged. “I’m never gonna be rich, so I might as well be thin.”

“You look great to me.” Jack’s eyes touched on Tara. “You both do. You’re built alike, even though Tara’s a lot taller.”

“I take after my father,” Tara said. “He was tall.”

Jack had already noticed that. Family photos plastered the walls, including a few of her late father and sister. Sunny had been fair, like Carrie, but Mr. Greer had dark hair and eyebrows. Tara didn’t share his high forehead and the long shape of his face but, as she said, she’d inherited his height.

“You all have one thing in common,” Jack said. “Good looks.”

“Such a charmer you are,” Carrie said.

He grinned at her and dug in to the pie, moaning softly while he chewed and swallowed. “You should reconsider having a piece, Carrie. This is some seriously good pie.”

“Thank you,” Carrie said. “Is your mom a good cook?”

Jack smiled. “My dad is. My mother swears that’s the reason she never perfected the art.”

Carrie laughed. “What do your parents do?”

“They own a real-estate business together,” he replied. “I already told you about my brother. I’ve also got two sisters, Annalise and Maria.”

“What do they do?”

“Annalise is a wife and mother. She stays home and raises my two nephews, exactly what she’s always wanted to do. Now, Maria, she’s the opposite.” He took a breath, about to tell Carrie what his sister did for a living.

“She’s single,” Tara cut in, sending him a sidelong glance that looked as if she was trying to communicate something to him. “Jack’s sister Maria doesn’t have plans to get married any time soon.”

“Is she dating anyone?” Carrie asked.

Jack gazed across the table at Tara and raised his eyebrows, curious as to what she’d say next. Even though it was true that Maria wasn’t in the market for a husband, he hadn’t told Tara that.

“Nobody in particular,” Tara said. “She’s like Jack. She plays the field.”

“Is that so?” Carrie frowned before directing her attention to Jack. “I hadn’t figured you for a player, Jack.”

“I’m not.” Jack shook his head, looking directly at Tara. She’d explain later what was going on. For now, he was willing to play along. “Especially not compared to my sister, I hear.”

“Maria’s a little older than Jack, so the whole family’s hoping she’ll settle down,” Tara said. “Isn’t that right, Jack?”

“That’s right,” Jack agreed.

“I should certainly hope so,” Carrie said.

It was time, Jack thought, to change the subject.

“By the way, Carrie, I’ve been meaning to ask if you need me to watch Danny for you Wednesday night,” he said. “I know that’s one of the nights Tara has spinning class.”

“Would you?” Carrie clasped her hands in front of her. “You are a terrific guy.”

“Just tell me when to be here,” Jack said.

“Why do you need a babysitter, Mom?” Tara asked. “Where are you going Wednesday night?”

Carrie hesitated. “Out to dinner with a friend.”

Tara considered her. “The same friend who gave you the cat?”

After a long moment, Carrie said, “The same one.”

“So you’re going on a date with Gus?” Tara asked.

“Not a date,” Carrie protested, shaking her head so quickly her hair rustled. “We’re just two people having dinner together.”

That must have been the wording Gus had used when he convinced Carrie to go out with him. Jack wondered if that tactic would work on Tara. After he finagled it so he could walk her home tonight, he might find out.

* * *

T
ARA
STIFLED
ANOTHER
of the yawns that had been occurring with increasing frequency as the evening wore on. Though it was only a few minutes past nine, at any other time she would excuse herself and go home.

Not tonight. No way would she leave Jack alone with her mother. After she and Jack pitched in to help Carrie with the postdinner cleanup, Danny had corralled the three of them into admiring Billy the kitten. Now Danny had gone to sleep and they were sitting on her mother’s spacious front porch, the best part of the house.

“Tara, honey, you seem all tuckered out,” her mother said. “You should go home and go to sleep.”

Tara blinked a few times to clear the fatigue from her eyes and injected brightness into her voice. “I’m fine.”

“You sure about that?” Carrie asked. “We had a late night yesterday at O’Malley’s. And didn’t you get up early this morning to kayak before you went fishing?”

“Yes, but I’m not...” Another yawn interrupted what Tara had been about to say. “Okay. I admit it. I’m tired.”

“If you’re too tired to walk home, maybe Jack can drive you,” Carrie suggested.

“Be happy to,” Jack said.

“I can walk. It’s only a few blocks.” Tara immediately realized her mistake. She’d stayed this long only because she was afraid to leave Jack alone with her mother. And now she’d passed up a chance to get him out of the house. “But if Jack is ready to leave, perhaps he can walk with me.”

She read surprise on his face. No wonder. She’d been sending hot and cold signals at him since they met.

“Sounds good to me,” Jack said. “I’ve got a fear of being the thing that wouldn’t leave, so I was just about to say my goodbyes.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of anything like that,” Carrie said. “Remember how delightful you are.”

Jack slapped his forehead. “How could I forget?”

They both laughed at what was obviously an inside joke. Great. Her mother was becoming buddies with the man who threatened life as she and Tara knew it.

Tara stood up. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. Ready to go, Jack?”

“Yes.” He rose, crossed to where her mother sat on a wicker chair and smiled down at her. “Thanks for inviting me, Carrie. As fantastic as dinner was, the company was even better.”

“You’re welcome any time, Jack,” her mother said. “I’d love to have you over again.”

“Don’t think I won’t hold you to that,” he said.

Tara’s temples throbbed. Could the situation get any worse? This time she made herself yawn, even adding a sound effect.

“I better get your daughter home before she passes out on her feet,” Jack told her mother. He crossed to Tara’s side and put a hand at her elbow. Warmth spread underneath his hand, unwelcome but not surprising.

She moved from him so his hand fell away, then she hurried down the porch steps. “Bye, Mom,” she called.

Jack caught up to her on the sidewalk when she was almost even with the next house.

“When you decide to leave,” he said, “you really get up and go.”

“It is getting late,” Tara said, although that wasn’t exactly true. “And it’s not like you needed more time to flatter my mother.”

The instant the words left her mouth, Tara knew she’d said the wrong thing. What’s more, she’d sounded petty and mean-spirited. Her stomach turned.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Your mom deserved the praise,” Jack said. “She’s a nice person and an excellent cook. Gourmet quality, even.”

The canopy of trees they were passing under obscured the full moon—perfect timing. It afforded Tara a few moments to get her thoughts in order. The trouble was they were as jumbled as the ingredients in her mother’s chicken pasta.

“Why did you tell me she was a terrible cook?” he asked.

They stepped into the moonlight and her respite was over. He was gazing down at her as he walked in that effortless, loose-limbed way that was so attractive. She’d dated a fair bit over the years but seldom had a man ever been so focused on her. It was as though he was watching every nuance of her expression. If she told him anything other than the truth, or at least a sanitized version, he’d know she was lying.

“I didn’t want you to come to dinner,” she said.

“I figured that,” he said. “But why? And while I’m wondering about things, what was the deal with what you said about Maria?”

Tara felt her heart drumming against her chest. He was already suspicious of her motives. It wouldn’t take much of a leap for him to resurrect the suspicion that she might be Hayley Cooper, especially now that he’d seen the photos in her mother’s house. Tara might be tall like her father, but she didn’t resemble anyone in her family. How she handled his questions was vitally important.

“I was trying to get off the topic of what Maria did for a living,” Tara said. “I don’t want my mother to know she’s a private investigator.”

“Why not?”

“Mom always has a tough time getting through the anniversary week of my father’s and sister’s deaths,” Tara said. The statement had the benefit of being true. Even now, she was reluctant to lie to him. “I couldn’t let you say anything to upset her.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Jack said.

“Not intentionally,” Tara said. “But I’m the only family she has left. How do you think she’d feel if she knew you came to Wawpaney because you suspected she’d abducted me?”

“Whoa,” Jack said. “I never suspected that.”

“Not now that you know her, no. Now you see how ridiculous that is.” Tara was gaining momentum as she talked. Even to her own ears, she sounded convincing. “The reason you and I met was because I happen to resemble this missing girl. Do you really think my mother needs that extra stress in her life this week?”

“When you put it that way,” Jack said, “I guess not.”

Tara felt almost light-headed with relief, but she wasn’t through yet. “Then promise me you won’t mention it to her.”

Jack waited a few beats before answering. She held her breath the entire time.

“I promise, except maybe you’re not giving her enough credit,” Jack said. “I realize losing your father and sister devastated her. But as you pointed out before, it happened a long time ago. She might be ready to move on.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Tara said.

“We’re already seeing it,” Jack said. “She’s going out with Gus Wednesday night, isn’t she?”