Lynnette Kent - Expecting the Best

CAROL HARMON HELD BACK against the tug of her friend’s hand. “This is a high-end store, Jen. We could get into real trouble for just touching something. Let alone taking it.”

“Don’t be a wimp.” Jen tightened her grip and pulled Carol through the glass doorway. “Or we won’t let you join CW. Crooked Women aren’t wusses.”

“Neither am I!” But there were fur coats on one side of them, sequined dresses on the other. This place even smelled rich. And rich people didn’t like losing their stuff.

“So, come on.” Jen walked into the forest of sequins with her hands in her pockets, whistling.

Carol thought about leaving—but she didn’t have a way to get home. She thought about her sisters and her brothers, the cops in her family—Rachel, Grant and, especially, Zach—and what they’d do if they caught her shoplifting. Her best friend, Sam, would beat her up before she let her do something like this.

But Sam lived in Florida now, with a new school and new friends. Carol missed her. She was tired of hanging out by herself, writing letters because there was nobody to talk to. Or going to ball games with her brothers, movies with her sisters. It was time to grow up. Get a life.

All the cool people belonged to Crooked Women. And they wanted her to join. Why not? What did she really have to lose?

She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and hurried across the gold marble floor. “Hey, Jen! Jen, wait up!”

SHELLEY WASN’T SURE whether nerves or the baby had affected her appetite, but she could put away a mountain of food these days. Zach didn’t seem to mind when she finished her stuffed mushrooms and asked for one of his cheese sticks, and he gave her some of his steak before she even thought to ask. Dessert was cherries jubilee—she enjoyed every bite and thought she’d probably have room left for a sandwich before bedtime. Unless...

Unless she and Zach were otherwise occupied.

She couldn’t tell if he expected the evening to end in bed. More than halfway through dinner, she still didn’t know why he’d called. Surely he wanted more than this casual flirting, a lighthearted conversation between friends. They weren’t friends. And they weren’t lovers, exactly. Shelley couldn’t define what she and Zach were to each other.

Besides the parents of a child.

She shook her head to clear the thought. As long as she kept the baby out of her mind, she could keep the subject out of conversation. Zach wouldn’t want to know.

Would he?

“You said you’re coaching Little League,” she ventured as they walked to his car after dinner. “How old are the kids?”

He closed her door, came around and got in. “Ten to twelve. They’re a lot of fun.”

“What’s your record so far?”

“Three won, four lost. Do you like baseball?”

“I played softball in high school.” And she might be watching Little League games in a few years. “Coaching takes up a lot of time, when you don’t get paid.” She came closer to the point. “And when you don’t have kids of your own.”

“That’s the way I like it. When they’re tired and dirty and hungry, somebody else takes them home, listens to them whine, yells at them to take a bath and fixes their dinner. Me, I pick up some fast food and a good book and stay as far away from the family trap as I can.”

And that was that. Shelley turned to stare out the window, blinking back tears and giving up on a stillborn hope.

“What kind of music do you like...? Shelley? You still with me?”

She didn’t hear him for a few seconds, and had to recall his question. “Oh...whatever’s on, I guess. I don’t listen to much music.”

“How do you feel about hearing some jazz tonight?”

Shelley pasted on her professional smile and turned in the seat to face him. “Sounds like fun.”

She was surprised to find that she did, indeed, have fun. The Indigo Jazz and Blues Club bulged at the seams with people, but the owner, Jimmy Falcon, took her and Zach to a reserved table near the stage. The group they listened to played music she enjoyed, Zach kept her glass filled with ice water while he drank soda, and they shared a bowl of popcorn.

Best of all, they couldn’t talk much. And she couldn’t think much, with the band so close and the music loud. Jimmy came over during intermission and sat with them, preventing any personal conversation at all. More music, more drinks, two trips for Shelley to the crowded rest room. She checked her makeup in the mirror and noticed that her linen dress hadn’t wrinkled too badly. She avoided thinking about anything else.

They stayed until the last set ended, until the club emptied and the staff started to stack the chairs. Jimmy and Zach reminisced about some of their funnier exploits as police partners. Shelley laughed a lot, which was better than crying.

Then she and Zach were in the car on the way back to her house. The silence begged to be filled, but avoiding the subject uppermost in her mind tied her tongue.

She fell back on professional patter. “Where do you live? Do you rent or own?”

“Southeast from downtown. I own a bungalow with lots of trees, casement windows and antique plumbing.”

“You live alone?”

He flashed a grin. “Yeah. I waited almost thirty years to get my own bathroom. Now I don’t share with anybody.”

You shared with me, three months ago. Shelley didn’t voice the protest aloud. “Property values have gone up in that area of the city. You’ve probably got good equity accumulating. Have you thought about moving into something with better plumbing?”

“I’m staying put. I’d like to get the place paid off in another ten years, and then I won’t owe anybody.”

“No credit cards?”

“I pay those off every month.”

“No car loan?”

“Paid off last year.”

“Impressive money management,” she said, and meant it. “Living within your income is a lost art these days.”

“Does that make me an old codger?” There was that grin again.

Shelley couldn’t help smiling back. “If the dirtbrown sweater with darned moth holes and worn elbows fits...”

“I’m throwing it out first thing tomorrow morning!”

They laughed together, and Shelley tried to relax. But the closer they got to her house, the more her dinner started to unsettle. She planned to invite Zach in for coffee, expected him to say yes. After that, the situation would get dangerous. If he stayed for anything more, she really wasn’t sure she could—or should—keep her secret.

Finally, they crossed the front lawn through a warm summer night filled with cricket songs and starshine. Shelley unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned on the lamps in the foyer. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He stood on the threshold and stared back at her, an expression in his blue eyes she couldn’t read. Finally, he shook his head. “All that soda has me wired. Thanks, anyway.”

Shelley swallowed hard, nearly drowning in disappointment. Tonight must have been some kind of test—and she’d failed. Zach didn’t like spending time with her, didn’t want to sleep with her again. He hadn’t called for three months, then thought maybe he should double-check his judgment, to be sure. One more dose of Shelley Hightower convinced him that he’d had enough. On to the next candidate.

Well, he didn’t need to know how much that hurt. “I had a great time this evening. The Indigo was a real pleasure. Tell Jimmy thanks for the special treatment.” She started to close the door.

“Shelley?”

She looked out into the dark, saw his face caught in the line of light from indoors and hardened her heart against his cocky grin. “Yes?”

The chill in her voice banished that grin. He backed up a step. “Sleep tight.”