“Fine. So she’s nobody. But was she hot?”
“Yeah, she’s hot—was hot. I’ll never see her again. Can we go now?”
“She live around here? You got a number? Did you pick her up at a meeting?”
Dante was getting impatient. “Special Agent Hinman? Do you plan on wearing that bracelet to the community meeting room of the public library and then to the Outback Steakhouse? Because if you don’t, you need to just put it the fuck back where you found it.”
“Damn, bruh.” Wes tossed it to the rumpled comforter. “Touchy, touchy.”
Dante shook his head and stepped out into the hallway.
“Is she going to be at tonight’s meeting? What’s she look like?”
“What the fuck, Hinman? You know I don’t thirteen-step women, and I don’t know who she is, all right? I met her coming back from Chicago and we … you know … we hooked up. But now I can’t find her.”
“Whoa. What do you mean you can’t find her?” Wes put a hand on Dante’s shoulder. “Where’d you meet her? Did she swipe a credit card? Were there any security cameras? Partial prints on a coffee cup or anything? Shit, man, you didn’t even trace her cell number? Why? Was it a burner purchased with cash?”
“I don’t have a number. Can we just go?” Dante started walking down the hallway to the elevator. His digs in Asheville weren’t luxurious by any means and it wasn’t like he’d slept in his own bed much while he was undercover, but home was sure as hell nicer than these military-base accommodations.
“You didn’t say where, exactly, you met her.”
“Drop it, Westley.”
“Come on, man. What’s up? You’re obviously interested in her or you wouldn’t have the bracelet on the bed and you wouldn’t be all testy like you are, so maybe I can help you find her.”
“No.” They’d reached the downstairs lobby, and both nodded to a whole slew of Marine Corps officers and agents from the FBI, DEA, and God knew what else on their way to the front door. As they headed to the parking lot, Dante realized he was glad to be getting off base, even if it were only to visit a chain restaurant.
“So, I don’t get it. Was she at a baggage carousel? A shuttle stop? An airport bar? Did you get a partial on a license plate? Come on, man, there’s got to be a way to find out who the babe was.”
“Drop. It. Now.” Dante put his key in the ignition of the rental car and backed out of the parking space.
“Fine.” Hinman sighed. “Too bad it isn’t something simple, you know, like you sat next to her on a flight or something.”
Dante’s mind went blank. Even blanker than it had already been, apparently. He started laughing at his own ridiculous, Taffy-drunk, stupid-assed self. He looked over at Hinman. His friend had pressed his back against the passenger side door and was staring at him like he was an alien.
“Do not tell me she sat next to you on a flight.”
Dante pulled out of the lot and headed to the exit gate, ignoring Hinman’s comment.
“So?”
“You told me not to tell you.” Dante and Hinman flashed their shields and a young marine waved them through, telling them to enjoy their evening.
“All right, now.” Hinman rubbed his eyes and chuckled softly. “That right there is the saddest shit I’ve heard in a long while. The chick must have fucked your brains out, Cabrera.”
Dante had suddenly lost his appetite. All he wanted to do was get back to his room and start checking FAA passenger manifests until he found little Miss Pink Taffy.
“You got feelings for this woman or something?”
“Hell, no.”
“That is some bullshit.” Before Dante could say anything else to him, Hinman held up his hand. “I’ll stop. But if you can’t be honest with yourself, at least tell your sponsor how you really feel. Promise me you’ll do that, okay?”
Dante changed the subject. “I’m thinking surf-and-turf tonight. How about you?”
A few hours later, Dante was back at his laptop, fingers poised over the keys. All it would take would be a few taps of his fingertips and he’d be able to locate his flight number and seat assignment from O’Hare to D.C., then enter the secured Justice Department site. From there, he’d be only a few clicks away from the passenger manifest that would take him directly to everything he’d ever wanted to know about Taffy—or whoever the hell she was.
Dante held his breath for a moment. Why in the world would he even bother? He didn’t want or need to know anything about that woman. Taffy had been a one-night stand of epic proportions—all sweet Southern gentility until he nailed her up against the hotel room wall—but that’s all she’d been.
One.
Hot.
Night.
Dante logged out and closed his laptop. Not much later, as he lay in bed in the dark, he was sure he’d made the right decision. He’d never, ever gone chasing after an anonymous hookup before, so why start now?
He rolled over, punched the pillow, and willed himself to go to sleep.
Chapter 5
Tanyalee sniffed into her monogrammed linen hankie, then pushed away her sunglasses so she could dab her eyes. This last denial had just made it official—she was now completely and utterly humiliated! First, she’d been turned away at the animal shelter, a high school acquaintance telling her, “this kind of work would be too unpleasant for someone like you.” Then she’d been denied at the community recreation center, a former boyfriend saying, “you need experience in team sports, and the last time I checked, shoplifting wasn’t considered a team sport.” But with this last one, the degradation was complete! Because, really—what type of soup kitchen turns away volunteers?
The one run by Maryvelle Spickler Wilcox, apparently.
Tanyalee flung open the squeaky door of Viv’s pink Cadillac. She plopped down behind the white leather steering wheel, slammed the door shut, and peeled out of the parking lot of the Bread of Kindness Center. Bread of Kindness? How about Bitch of Kindergarten? That would be more accurate!
As Tanyalee turned onto East Road, she reviewed the horrible, terrible exchange she’d just had. Surely she didn’t deserve the treatment Maryvelle had given her. All Tanyalee had done was tell the sweet young woman at the front window that she’d like to volunteer, but the girl said Tanyalee would have to speak with the director. And out walked Maryvelle, who had not aged gracefully, truth be told. It seemed all the nibbles of bread she’d been sneaking hadn’t been kind to her backside.
“Tanyalee Newberry,” Maryvelle had said with a little laugh. “I didn’t know they’d let you out.”
Tanyalee’s spine stiffened. “Whatever do you mean?”
Maryvelle looked her up and down and shook her head. “Really, Tanyalee? You came in here dressed like that?”
Tanyalee examined herself, shocked at her old classmate’s harsh appraisal of her outfit. She was wearing a simple khaki pencil skirt, a carnation-pink twinset, and her customary single strand of pearls. What could possibly be wrong with that?
“You’re aware this is a soup kitchen, right?”
“Of course I know it’s a soup kitchen, Maryvelle. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to help ya’ll out.”
“Community service hours?”
Tanyalee sniffed. Maryvelle was certainly enjoying herself, wasn’t she? “If you must know—yes.”
She laughed at Tanyalee, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, I must know, since I would be the one who’d have to verify to the Cataloochee County Circuit Court how many hours you’ve worked. Isn’t that great?”
Tanyalee pursed her lips and refused to dignify that with a response.
“How many hours do you need?”
“Two hundred.”
Maryvelle whistled. “Well, now, that’s an awful lot. And we already have dozens of volunteers helping us do the Lord’s work, and most of them are fulfilling community service hours, I might add. Seems half the town’s on probation.”
“That’s real cute, Maryvelle, but I
’m sure you could always use more help.”
Maryvelle smiled at her. It wasn’t a particularly Christian smile. “Do you remember kindergarten, Tanyalee? Mrs. Cline’s class?”
“Of course.” She answered pleasantly, though she doubted the overall pleasant direction this exchange was about to take. “I loved how she hung our finger paintings from a clothesline that stretched all around the classroom. She was such a sweet old lady.”
“Yeah.” Maryvelle tilted her head and smirked at Tanyalee. “Do you remember how you ruined my life in kindergarten?”
Tanyalee blinked as something vaguely unpleasant began to nudge its way into the edges of her brain, trying to get itself remembered, but kindergarten had been an awfully long time ago. Besides, she didn’t recall much about the year her parents had died, which Dr. Leslie said was common for children who’d experienced trauma. “Well,” Tanyalee said, swallowing down a surprising rush of emotion. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, Maryvelle, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been all that bad. I mean, it was kindergarten, for heaven’s sake.”
Maryvelle stared at her in disbelief for a moment before she laughed. “Really? Well, let me refresh your memory, princess. One day you got it in your head that you wanted to stand next to Dale Wilcox in the cafeteria line, but that’s where I was standing, because Dale and I liked each other.”
Tanyalee began to get a sinking feeling in her belly.
“And so what did the pretty little spoiled rich girl do to get her way? She just walked right on up and grabbed hold of the waistband of my Garanimals pedal pushers and yanked them down until my bare bottom was hangin’ out for everyone to see!”
Tanyalee gasped. “I did not!” She paused. “I didn’t … did I?”
“Oh, yes you did, you horrible little slut! I cried my eyes out for a month! Dale didn’t speak to me again until fourth grade! You were a demon-child and I hated you! I still do!”
Tanyalee tried her best not to let her nostrils flare with rage, because a lady’s nostrils never flared, even when she’d been provoked to this degree. Besides, things were not as neat and tidy as Maryvelle made them out to be. Tanyalee distinctly remembered how cruel Maryvelle had been to Tater Wayne when they were young, calling him names, making fun of his eyeball and his bad teeth.
Yet suddenly, Dr. Leslie’s words wafted through her mind like a cooling breeze—“An opportunity to make amends might arise when you least expect it. Remain willing. Remember, it’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong—it’s about who’s mindful enough to seek the gift of healing for everyone involved.”
But what was she supposed to say? Technically, it seemed like she could have been cruel to Maryvelle, but what was the statute of limitations for something like that? Tanyalee took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I did that to you all those years ago, Maryvelle.”
“If?” She stuck her index finger in Tanyalee’s face. “You did do that to me! The incident left me so scarred that I decided to dedicate my life in service to the downtrodden, and I am here doing the Lord’s work eight to five, five days a week.”
She felt as if a dry dishrag were lodged in her throat. She couldn’t swallow. “I…” Her hands trembled as she struggled for the words. “I am truly sorry I hurt you.”
Maryvelle blinked in surprise, lowering her accusatory finger. “Well, then, okay. But my answer is still hell no! Hell no, you may not help us provide Christian charity to those in need here at Bread of Kindness, because we do not want ungodly people such as yourself.”
Oh, it was hard. The perfect comeback was on the tip of Tanyalee’s tongue. Ungodly? How ungodly was it when the Reverend Spickler’s daughter got arrested at a junior-high pot party? Or when Dale Wilcox got her pregnant at fifteen? Ungodly, Maryvelle? You were married to that no-good womanizer for a decade before he divorced you, and now here you are, secretly mad at God and serving soup to street people while busting out of your jeans!
But Tanyalee said none of it. There was no point. Maryvelle had suffered enough, she supposed, and those mean words wouldn’t have done anybody any good—not Maryvelle or Dale or their kids or Tanyalee.
With what air she had left, Tanyalee said, “I appreciate your time. Good luck with your mission. I hope one day you might be able to forgive me.”
Now, with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Tanyalee realized that her step work might have to extend well before high school, perhaps even into her toddler years. She decided that when she got back to Aunt Viv’s house, she’d get herself a lemonade and start really giving this some thought. How many of my life’s terrible, horrible relationships are entirely my fault?
The tears rolled down her cheeks as she drove through downtown Bigler. At the stoplight at Main and Boscombe, she grabbed her hankie and blew her nose. About ten seconds later, she slammed on the brakes. “What in heaven’s name—”
When had Jonesy Carmichael’s old insurance building become a hub of downtown revitalization? Tanyalee saw pickup trucks parked half on the sidewalk, men teetering on scaffolding, and from inside the old brick building came the pounding of hammers and the buzz of a mechanical saw. She did a U-turn and parked across the street, then got out of the Cadillac, the tears and the unpleasantness with Maryvelle forgotten.
“Yoo-hoo!” she called out into the open front door. Tanyalee coughed from the clouds of dust and backed away, aware that no one could hear her with all that racket going on. So she walked around the side of the building and into the unkempt back parking area. She stepped over broken bottles and construction debris, climbed up the back steps, and poked her head through the open back door.
“Oh, my goodness!” She put a hand to her heart in surprise. “I am so sorry!”
Turner Halliday had Candy Carmichael cornered in the back hallway, kissing the living daylights out of her. Tanyalee had clearly intruded upon an extremely private—and hot—moment between lovers. She spun around and headed back down the steps, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
“Hold up, Tanyalee,” Turner said, the amusement plain in his voice. “I was just leaving.” The statement made Candy giggle.
Tanyalee collected herself, knowing full well that was a lie, then turned around again. She smiled brightly at the two of them. “I just stopped by to see what was going on with the building. We can visit some other time.”
“No, now is completely fine.” Candy yanked a paper mask up over her mouth. “Here,” Candy said, taking a mask from the box and handing one to Tanyalee. “The plaster dust isn’t good for you.”
“It’s not good for anyone,” Turner said, resting a proprietary hand on Candy’s belly. When Candy placed her hand over Turner’s, Tanyalee noticed the sparkle of a nice little engagement ring on her left hand—what looked to be about a half-carat brilliant-cut diamond with little baguettes on each side.
Tanyalee almost fell backward down the crumbling concrete steps.
“Bye, baby.” Turner nuzzled Candy’s neck. “What time should I pick you up?”
“About six is fine.”
He kissed her cheek. “Love you. Promise me no ladders, okay?”
“No ladders. Love you, too.”
Turner paused and placed a hand on Tanyalee’s shoulder. It was a friendly gesture she hadn’t expected. “Nice to see you, Tanyalee. Welcome home.”
“Why, thank you, Turner!” She stepped aside and watched him practically skip down the steps and around the side of the building. Tanyalee pulled the elastic strap over her head, careful not to disturb her chignon, and adjusted the mask into place. “My goodness!” she said to Candy. “I leave for a few weeks and the whole world changes!”
Candy laughed, then gave Tanyalee a warm hug. “You were gone two and a half months. A lot can happen in that amount of time.”
Tanyalee knew it was impolite of her, but she glanced down at Candy’s belly then at her engagement ring, just double-checking that she wasn’t imagining just how much had happened. When she looke
d up again, Candy was smiling at her from behind her paper mask. “Oh! I’m sorry, but I … I couldn’t help but notice…”
“Yes. I’m pregnant.”
“Please tell me you weren’t hurt in all that drug ruckus out in Preston Valley. Aunt Viv told me what happened. It sounded so perfectly awful!”
“I’m fine,” Candy said, wrapping her arms around herself. “It was bad. It’ll take time for the memory of it to fade, but I’m lucky that I have so much to look forward to.” Her eyes misted over. “I am blessed in my life these days.”
Tanyalee blinked, not able to speak right away. She noticed how truly beautiful her sister’s best friend was. Her skin was pink. Her blond curls were thick and glossy. Her eyes shone with joy. Tanyalee remembered her own pregnancy, and how she hadn’t been able to take any pleasure in the changes her body was going through. She certainly wasn’t all pretty and radiant the way Candy was right now. Maybe it was because her circumstances had been so different from Candy’s. Sure, Tanyalee had trapped J.J. into getting her pregnant, but she couldn’t force him to love her, and he’d never touched her again.
Ironically, Tanyalee had just begun to adjust to her pregnant body when she’d miscarried—and the whole lie crashed down around her. She had to shut her eyes against the sudden rush of shame.
“The doctor says I’ll really start showing about the time we have our grand opening.”
“Well, you look so beautiful and I’m so happy for you, Candy.” Only then did Tanyalee hear the words Candy had just spoken. “Grand opening?” She looked down the narrow hallway into the huge front room. For the first time she noticed the roughed-in plumbing, new drywall, and the ductwork taking shape high up in the ceiling. “Grand opening for what, exactly?”
Candy’s face expanded in a huge smile that pushed up her cheeks and crinkled her eyes. “My own bakery! Can you believe it? We’ve still got some design decisions to make, but we’re opening in three weeks, whether we’re ready or not.”