Chapter 15
LOLA WASN’T SURE she would ever get over the embarrassment of bursting into tears at a compliment. A compliment? It was practically a tribute! And then her behavior only got worse and worse. She wouldn’t answer Tom’s knock at her door because she was nearly sobbing. When he called her later that night, she begged him to forgive her but to let it go and not talk about it. Cole was working that night but Trace asked her what was wrong and she said she had a headache and wanted to go to bed early. Typical of a sixteen-year-old boy, he didn’t push that excuse because he really didn’t want to know if his mother had some kind of girl problem.
Lola had been enjoying Tom’s company so much. It was all right with her that they were only going to be friends. In fact, it was better that way. They had plenty to talk about, laugh about, even argue about, though if they disagreed it was always friendly. They had shared interests. Having someone of the opposite sex to talk to met a need for Lola. She didn’t need a lover or a partner or husband but she was human—it was nice to have a man for a friend. And if they were just friends, there was no room for disappointment or dashed hopes.
Then he held her hand and remarked on her attractiveness. He made her sound like a beauty queen when she really was a plain, unfussy, unremarkable, overweight forty-year-old woman with two kids. Alone with two kids and an irresponsible ex who had never been that much help. She didn’t wear makeup, she cut her own hair and had lately been looking at the hair color section of the drugstore. She didn’t have enough money to be getting fancy dye jobs at the salon. Her clothes were the nicest she could find in the discount store and she wore them long after the styles had advanced. She just didn’t live up to all he was saying.
And no one had ever said those kinds of things to her before. Not even when she was a pretty cute, slim, smart high school cheerleader.
Maybe it would have been different if Tom was a dumpy, ordinary guy. But he wasn’t. He was heart-stopping handsome. He had thick brown hair that showed no sign of getting thin. And he was a laborer with all the muscles and fitness of a man who used his strength every day. His smile melted her and he had dimples for the love of God! And if it wasn’t enough that he could be in films, he wasn’t that shallow movie-star or model type. He was kindhearted, funny, smart. Tom was a good father. A responsible man who put his family first and took very good care of them. She was in awe of him.
And being his friend was so lovely.
It had not been easy to train herself to not look for that one special person, that constant and loving companion, a man who would love her through thick and thin. A man who would stay. And now, by saying what he had said, she would get her hopes up and begin to dream of a beautiful man to wake up with, to go to sleep with, to hold on long, cold, winter nights. She didn’t want those fantasies but she was only human.
Tom came in to the diner the next day and they talked of ordinary things. He told her what his kids had planned for after dinner; she told him about the kitchen remodel she’d seen on the Home Channel. “Are you feeling better, Lola?” he finally asked her.
“Yes, thank you. I apologize for the other day. I don’t know what happened to me. I must have been emotional for no reason and didn’t even know it. Besides, I think it’s best if we don’t talk about it.”
“Maybe we should talk about it,” he said. “I don’t think it’s okay that hearing nice things makes you cry. I’ll get paranoid.”
“We decided, didn’t we, that we’re just going to be friends?” she said.
“Well, I don’t remember talking about that. But here’s how I feel—I want to be at least friends.”
“I can’t complicate my life with romantic notions and ridiculous ideas...”
“Then don’t,” he said. “But, my gosh, let’s go ahead and enjoy ourselves.”
“You don’t understand, Tom. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by letting myself be taken in by a lot of sweet talk that isn’t ever going anywhere.”
“Okay. Understandable. But I can’t imagine you ever being foolish. That’s one of the best things about you—you’re so sensible and smart.”
She rolled her eyes. Another compliment and the kind that could really get to her—praising her practicality and brains. “You shouldn’t talk like that. What if that kind of talk undermines our perfectly great friendship?”
“Why would it? I can’t see how being admired can hurt you.”
“I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”
She looked around the diner and saw they were mostly alone. If she kept her voice down, she could get away with speaking her mind. “All right, listen to me. I’m forty. I’m ordinary. I’m fat. I’m a single mother of two sons and have a useless ex-husband—lot of baggage there.”
He laughed at her. “You’re going to tell me about baggage? And you are not fat! Don’t say that about yourself—you’re perfect.”
“Now see, stop that. Talk like that makes me uncomfortable and it’s not going to get you laid.”
He grinned. “Lola, you can’t scare me with that. I’ve been not laid most of my life!” He let out a big laugh. “I can’t understand why it makes you so unhappy to hear nice things about yourself.”
“Because it’s the first time!” she blurted. He tilted his head and looked into her eyes. And they got a little wet. “Damn it, I’m not going to cry! Listen, if we’re friends, I guess I can be completely honest with you.”
“Sure. Of course.”
“I’m not used to that kind of talk, all right? Even my own husband didn’t lay that kind of mush on me. I can count on one hand the number of dates I’ve had since my divorce, mostly first dates. They were very unsatisfactory dates. So maybe you can understand that I’m not likely to take it very seriously. And...and I really don’t want to be let down. Okay? I just don’t want to start to believe a lot of malarkey and then try to pick myself up and brush myself off, get emotionally strong again and learn how to like being completely alone. I’ve been through it.”
“I understand,” he said. “So have I.”
“Then let’s agree—no more of that bullshit. Let’s at least be honest with each other.”
“Do you like me, Lola?” he asked.
“Of course! Why do you think it’s a struggle?”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll be more careful with what I say.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She didn’t hear from him the next day and she was sad about that, but she admitted to herself that it was probably for the best. And the next day he didn’t drop by Home Depot. And he didn’t call that night. Well, she might have pissed him off. She was kind of rough on him, calling his sweet talk bullshit and telling him he wouldn’t get laid. Maybe that wasn’t his intention anyway; maybe she had offended him with her assumptions.
But she missed Tom and his silly potted plants. He was so sensible—just couldn’t bring himself to waste money on fresh-cut flowers. Potted plants lived longer and could be transplanted. She missed his phone calls, which always started out with some contrived question. She wanted to go to home shows with him.
Then at about eight the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, he was there, a little dusty like he’d been working. He was slapping his cap against his thigh. “Hi,” she said.
“Are your kids home?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Oh, I could probably use a little help. I brought you a plant.”
She broke into an unexpected grin. He’d brought her a plant! Maybe they could salvage their friendship, after all. “A plant?” she said.
He stepped aside. His truck was parked at the curb and sticking out the back was the foliage of an aspen.
“That looks like a tree,” she said in some confusion.
He shrugged. “I figured I’m going to have to up the ante. If I don’t want you saying I’m just full of bullshit.” He ran a hand down her arm until he reached her hand. He held it. “I thought the tree would look good on that sunny side of the house. You could see it from the porch. In fall when the leaves turn yellow, it’ll make the trim on the house stand out.”
“Tom...”
“It’s fifteen feet,” he said. “You’ll have to help me get it out of the truck.” He moved a little closer to her. “Kids aren’t home, huh?”
She shook her head.
He lifted a hand to her hair and let his long fingers sink into her thick curls. “I’ve wanted to do this,” he said. He gently let his lips hover right over hers. “I do think you’re beautiful, Lola. Inside and out. Do not cry. My ego can’t take it.”
“You’re courting me,” she said.
“Uh-huh. It’s not going to be that much of a courtship. We have six kids between us. Three in college so far. We’ll be lucky if we have time to make out on the porch now and then.” He gave her a brief kiss and she let her eyes drift closed. He kissed her more deeply. He let go of her hand and slid it around her waist, pulling her closer. It made him moan, a soft purring sound. Then she felt his tongue and she was the one who moaned.
She embraced him and moved under his lips. She thought, I’m sunk now. It is now officially too late for me.
“I love the way you taste,” he whispered. “And you feel so good in my arms. Just like I knew you would.”
“Hmm,” she said, not opening her eyes.
He gave her another kiss, a very thorough one. Then a brief one. “Gotta stop now,” he whispered. “Grrr.”
“Me, too.”
He pulled back slowly. “Should we pull that tree out? While I can still walk?”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m a little weak in the knees, though.”
“We’ll be okay,” he said. “Except, I’m going to want to kiss you every day.”
“Okay,” she said.
They broke apart and turned to go down the walk. Standing on the sidewalk was Trace. He was wearing cleats, carrying a bat and baseball mitt, all dusty and dirty and sweaty. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. “You’re kissing Mr. Canaday,” he said. “Why were you kissing Mr. Canaday?”
Lola shrugged and smiled. “Because I like him. And he bought me a tree.”
“Wow,” he said. He hit his cleats with his bat, knocking off some dirt. “Wait till I tell Cole.” Then he walked up to the porch, passed them and opened the front door.
“Hey!” Lola said. “Go around to the back door and take off those dirty shoes!”
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. You kinda shook me up for a minute.”
“Maybe you could give me a hand with that tree?” Tom said. “It’s pretty heavy.”
“Sure,” he said. “Jeez.” He dropped the bat and glove, heading for the truck. “Should you be kissing my mom?”
“Well, we’re both single and over twenty-one. And we’re good friends.”
“Yeah, but she’s my mom,” he said.
Lola winced inside. Trace was a great big kid, as tall as Tom and almost as broad in the shoulders, but he was her baby.
Tom put a firm hand on Trace’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “Well, kiddo, she’s not going to stop being your mom, so relax. Let’s put the tree over there by the end of the porch. It’s gonna look so nice there.”
“You gonna plant it?” Trace asked him.
“Not tonight. Tomorrow. I have chores tonight. It’ll keep till tomorrow. And you’ll survive this crisis.”
* * *
Sierra wanted a little fluff-up before traveling to Michigan. She thought it might help her in the confidence department. Maggie confessed that she liked to get her hair done by a favorite, pricey hairdresser in Denver, but in a pinch she’d been known to drop into the local beauty shop and they did a fine job at half the cost. She recalled a woman named Rhonda had done her hair.
“I could do that, but I don’t know... Connie’s ex-fiancée works in there,” Sierra said.
Maggie got an impish grin on her face. “You don’t want to get a look at her?”
“I’ve seen her! She’s incredibly pretty.”
“Well, you could spend an hour in the shop and see what she’s like. But I don’t think you should let her cut your hair!”
“She probably won’t even know who I am. Connie hasn’t mentioned telling her about me.”
“Then do it,” Maggie said, a little gleefully. “And report back.”
She made an appointment for the afternoon with Rhonda. She asked for a few blond streaks and a trim of her ends. She was a little nervous about this bit of sneakiness. But she never could have prepared herself for what she found. Rhonda’s chair was beside Alyssa’s. And in Alyssa’s chair was Neely.
“Well, hello stranger,” Sierra said.
“Sierra! What a coincidence! I was just going to give you a call!”
“I guess you’ve been pretty busy lately,” Sierra said. She was not nearly over being brushed off after that whole friendship seduction.
“I have, but I’m afraid it’s been a real nightmare,” Neely said. “A good friend’s teenage son was in a terrible accident on 24. She lives in a little town south of Vail and it wasn’t far from her house. He was just seventeen and was critical, taken to Denver by helicopter to the trauma center. Brandon barely hung on for two weeks before he died and I’ve spent almost all that time sitting by his bedside. I didn’t think I’d ever recover!”
“I didn’t hear a word about it,” Alyssa said.
“Oh, you know small towns,” Neely said. “They were barely aware.”
“That’s not what I’m used to,” Sierra said. “I spent half my life in a really small town in Iowa and if there was a flat tire, everyone heard about it. A fatality would have been front page news!”
“Oh, there was an article, but it was small. He was the only injury and he was taken to Denver. And my friend, his mother, wasn’t from that little town—she was just visiting friends. So—it wasn’t like it was one of their own.”
“But it was a horrible accident! If a helicopter rescue lands anywhere around here, we’re all asking for details,” Alyssa said.
“Well, it was the middle of the night,” Neely said. “It was just so horrible, I’m happy it’s over. But I did want to explain my long silence. I know I promised to call...”
“God, that’s all right,” Sierra said. “I’m so sorry you went through all that. By the way, what brings you to Timberlake? Do you come all this way to get your hair done?”
“No.” She laughed. “I’m a walk-in today. I was in town looking at some property. There’s a shop at the end of the street—Daisy’s Menagerie. She’s looking at selling. I just wanted to look it over, talk to the owner. I think I told you—I’m contemplating a specialty shop.”
“What kind of shop?” Alyssa asked.
God bless her, Sierra thought. Was she going to get that I’m-not-ready-to-talk-about-it line?
“Possibly local art, not on a grand scale. But I must admit, I’m beginning to be seduced by the new marijuana trade.”
Sierra almost choked and Neely laughed merrily.
“I wouldn’t work with the product,” Neely said. “I’d hire someone with experience in the industry. It’s just that it’s making so much money! Of all the privately owned small businesses in Colorado, marijuana is quickly leading the pack. Anyone with an interest in small business has to take that seriously.” She turned in her chair to look at Sierra. “So, you live here?”
“Sort of. I live outside of town. So does my brother and his wife. I’m new in the area but I work part-time at the diner. And if everything works out, I’d like to stay. My brother’s wife is expecting.”
“Hey, what’s the town where the accident happened?” Alyssa asked.
“I think it was Fairplay. Or it was a town right near Fairplay. I don’t know—I never went there,” Neely said. “When my friend called I went straight to Denver to the hospital.” Neely turned to Sierra again. “So, do you have time to grab a cup of coffee after you get finished here?”
Sierra nearly shook herself in surprise. She did, in fact. But she said, “I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m on the run today.”
“And let’s put you under the dryer for a few minutes to speed up this color,” Rhonda said. “Girl, you do have the prettiest hair! And healthy! Want me to take off about an inch? Or less?”
“An inch is fine,” Sierra said.
She got under the dryer and considered Neely. What a lot of drama, she thought. Then she felt guilty—after all, the woman had just been through what must have been a terrible experience. But Sierra had the worst feeling about her...
Ten minutes later she was being shampooed and when she got back in the chair, Neely was gone. “She said to tell you goodbye and she’ll give you a call. She had to run,” Alyssa said.
“Thanks,” she said. Neely wanted to have coffee, but didn’t even have time to say goodbye?
“Have you been friends for a long time?” Alyssa asked while she was sweeping up the clippings on the floor.
“No,” Sierra said. “I just met her a month ago.”
“Really? She said you wanted her to make a trip to Santa Fe with you but she wasn’t sure how she’d find the time.”
“She said that?” Sierra asked, dumbfounded.
“She sure did. Why? Was it a secret?”
“No, it was...” Sierra stopped herself. Better to not make this any more complicated. “No, not a secret. I don’t think I can find the time, either.”
“She seems like a lot of fun,” Alyssa said. “Weird about that accident, though.”
“What’s weird?”
Alyssa leaned on her broom. “I’ve lived here almost my whole life. There were a couple of vacationers from somewhere back East killed on 289 a few years ago. A young couple. Their car was obliterated by a big rig. There were pictures in the paper and on the internet, it was on the evening news. Complete strangers put so many wreaths and crosses and stuffed toys by the side of the road it looked like a monument. Things like that just don’t usually go unnoticed.”
“Interesting,” was all she said.
After her haircut she found herself walking across the street to the fire department. She was in a bit of a daze. This was only the second time she’d gone looking for Connie, and this time she found him. He had a rag in his hand and was polishing up the chrome on the fire engine.
“Well, what a beautiful surprise,” he said, coming out of the open garage doors to meet her. He gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I was just getting my hair trimmed and the strangest thing happened.” She told him the story.
Connie frowned. “She made that whole thing up,” he said. “She know your boyfriend is a paramedic?”
“I told her I was seeing a fireman...”
“If there’s a fatality anywhere near my territory, don’t you think I’d know?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Rescue Flight was called out, Sierra. Sixty miles from here.”
“Maybe she got the location wrong?”
“I’ll check the logs on the computer. In fact, you can do that. It’s a matter of public record and the Colorado State Patrol can confirm. What do you know about it?”
“Seventeen-year-old boy driving, his first name was Brandon, the car was supposedly hit by a truck, he lay critical in a hospital in Denver for two weeks before he passed away. A few weeks ago. And she said it happened on 24. Is that a highway?”
“Yep, the one most of us take to Denver. Come on in, have a water or soda or something. I’ll look it up. It won’t take two minutes.”
“I’ll just wait,” she said. “I’m going to go pick up my clothes and get organized so I can be ready to go in the early morning.”
“But I’ll see you tonight?”
“Of course.”
Rafe came out to the front of the firehouse after Connie left and said hi. “Connie said he’s looking up something for you. How you doing?”
“Great. And how are Lisa and the kids?”
“Excellent. Grandma’s coming for a visit before summer’s over. They’ll shop for school clothes, she loves to do that. My mom likes to get in on some of that, too. I’ll probably take ’em all out on the lake a few times.”
They made small talk for a few minutes before Connie was back. “Will you give us a minute, Rafe?” Connie asked.
“Sure. See you later, Sierra.”
“Nothing, ” Connie said.
“Maybe it was farther away than she thought?”
He shook his head. “Statewide, no fatal involving a seventeen-year-old boy.”
“What if she had his age wrong?”
“There were forty fatalities in the whole month and one sixteen-year-old boy died. In Pueblo. No seventeen-year-olds. That’s as close as it came. And there’s no obit for a boy named Brandon.”
“Maybe I didn’t get the details right,” Sierra said, completely confused.
“She made it up, honey.”
“Why would she do that?” Sierra said.
“Who knows why people make up wild stories. For attention? To get out of something they don’t want to do? Some people just can’t help it—they’d make up a lie when the truth is more interesting. I don’t know about you but when someone flat-out lies to me, I don’t trust them anymore.”
“I just don’t get it,” she said.
“That’s the woman you really wanted to be friends with, right? The one who let you down. The one who doesn’t like animals?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. My advice? Back away slowly.”