Chapter Eleven
Tuesday night, as they walked up to the standard-issue four-bedroom Colonial where the meeting was being held, Bree had to take Spence’s hand. Not because of the unevenness of the walkway, but because her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might pass out. She was doing something. She was taking part. She was going to help make things better—for her town, her family, her mom.
She was in charge of the story once again.
But as she walked back to his truck at the end of the night, she had to restrain herself from an almost instinctive desire to put as much distance between herself and the others as possible.
She slammed her door, grateful that she had agreed when Spence had offered to drive. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat she let loose.
“What the hell!”
He started the engine and seemed to concentrate on getting them out of the wide-open parking space in front of the house. When he spoke, his words were slow and measured. “I did warn you that things got a little heated sometimes.”
“I guess I assumed they needed to let off steam the first couple of times you got together. Totally understandable. But this?” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to find some warmth. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to check some of them for rabies. I mean, foam at the mouth much?”
“Will it help if I tell you that that’s the worst it’s ever been?”
She didn’t even have to think. “No. Because that means their anger is feeding off itself. They’re encouraging each other in their hate instead of finding constructive ways to work it. It’s like, I went in there ready to . . . to . . . to make an agenda. Or prepare talking points for when they go to the town planning board. Maybe make some signs or draw up a petition or . . .” Disbelief rippled through her. “I’ve seen more focused work from the kids in Annie’s day care.”
He chuckled as he turned the corner, but she could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.
“Though maybe it’s better this way,” she went on. “If they’re this worked up over Rob and his plans, they’ll never get themselves organized enough to do anything concrete.”
Spence shot her a sideways glance. “You mean you want him to stay in town now?”
“No! God, no! But I don’t . . .” She shifted to turn as far sideways as her seat belt would allow. “Look. I don’t want him to stick around, and I really don’t want him to set up shop with an organization that would be like a constant mockery of everything he put us through. Even though, for the record, I think it’s a good cause.”
“Understood.”
“But I don’t exactly want him—or anyone—to face that kind of public frenzy. I mean, if tarring and feathering were still legal, I think some of those people would have been out there firing up the barbecue and dumping the down out of their pillows.”
“Not all of us are that bad.”
Damn. Did he think she was talking about him? “No. I know you’re not . . .” She knotted her hands in her lap. “Here’s the thing. You have cause to be angry with Rob. I don’t blame you. But as far as I can tell, unless there’s other things I don’t know about, which is always very possible, you and I were the only ones in that room who had been personally hurt by him. The others were just . . . I don’t know.” She shook her head. “That’s the thing. I don’t know what was driving them. Do they think their property values will go down?”
“Nope.” He stopped for a red light. “It’s all about reputation.”
“What do you mean? How did Rob do anything to impact their reputations?”
“Not theirs individually. The town’s.”
Oh.
“You mean, they don’t want it to look like Calypso Falls is the kind of place where ex-cons can come in and set up programs at will?”
“Don’t laugh. This is a place that prides itself on being all about good schools and low crime and trees on the streets. They don’t want that picture to be tarnished. And if someone like your father, who is nothing if not good at getting publicity, decides to set up shop here and makes it look like he’s been welcomed with open arms . . . they’re not going to like that.”
“Okay. I get that. But I mean, that one woman, Doreen—she was practically crying.”
“Doreen’s mom just died a month ago. She’s still dealing.”
Oh. That helped a bit. Not that she wanted poor Doreen to have lost her mother, but still.
“It’s kind of like . . .” Spence turned onto her street. “Remember, about ten years ago, when those kids hacked the high school records office and changed their grades?”
“Oh my God. It was the closest I’ve ever felt to knowing what it was like when Pontius Pilate was sentencing Jesus to crucifixion.”
“Right. Total outrage. Not because of what the kids did, though obviously it was wrong and they had to be disciplined. But because it might damage the school’s reputation. And all of a sudden, little Samantha’s chances of getting into that Ivy League school might not be as high if the school’s reputation has been tainted.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Neither did I, until Livvy explained how it felt from a parent’s perspective.” He shot her a grin. “To quote my gentle sister, ‘Why the hell should I pony up for those gawdawful taxes if my kid is going to graduate from a school where you have to hold the diploma up to the light to see if it’s real?’”
The laughter that Bree couldn’t hold back felt good. It made her realize that the words she’d held in during the meeting had settled in a tight knot of tension in her shoulders and neck. She wriggled her shoulders and did a couple of neck rolls, which helped, but not enough.
He reached across the seat and gripped the back of her neck, his palm warming and kneading the tightness away.
“Mmmmm. That feels good.”
Take charge of your own story, Bree.
“Do you have any pressing need to go home tonight?” she asked.
He glanced sideways and raised his eyebrows in her direction. “Is that an invitation?”
“Slumber party at my place. Bring your clothes. Preferably in a bag instead of on you.”
“Tempting, but I can’t.”
Disappointment arced through her.
“I have to get home to Furgus. But,” he added, reaching for her hand, “if you want to come over, I can show you the things I learned in that massage class I took.”
“You? You, Mr. Tough Badass, took a massage class?”
“If you must know the truth, it wasn’t really a class. More like, I used to date a massage therapist.” He sighed. “But she was a great teacher.”
“Really.” Bree refused to be jealous. Just because psychology suddenly didn’t seem like as valuable a skill to share as massage techniques.
Maybe Spence was ready to be the teacher instead of the student. Ms. Therapist couldn’t have given him that, could she?
“Come back to my place and I’ll let you be the judge yourself.”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “It might be kind of weird. I’ll be thinking of her the whole time.”
He stopped for a red light, reached across the seat, and slid his hand between her legs. She shrieked. He laughed.
“Trust me, Bree. You won’t be thinking of anybody else. Guaranteed.”
“Well, if you’re offering a guarantee . . .”
“Damn straight. Double your pleasure or your money back.”
“I guess that’s a pretty safe offer.” She waved toward the windshield. “Home, Jeeves.”
He laughed and took the turn toward his place. She sat back and ordered herself to think of the hours ahead, of the delights that lay in store and the deep sleep she was going to need. Because after hearing the people spout this evening, she knew what she had to do.
She had to talk to her father.
* * *
Spence was at his desk, checking his e-mail to see if a potential customer had finally made a decision whether to accept his bid, when a message came in from Fred Gettman. He assumed it was task force or committee work and would have saved it for later if he hadn’t caught the subject line: Two Birds, One Stone.
He opened the e-mail and scanned the message.
Then he downloaded the attachment.
Then he double-checked Fred’s message.
Spence—sorry I couldn’t make it to the committee the other night. I’ve been working on that possible idea to include both a playground and a wedding pavilion in the food forest, and after talking to some folks and checking on some legalities, I think we can make it work. It does mean expanding the forest. But if we go across Butternut Creek and the bluff to the area where Fire House #2 is sitting empty, we could knock the building down, use that area for parking, build a bridge over the creek, and have a forest with everything we both want and need. I’m having some official plans drawn up. Will let you know when I have them.
Spence checked the attachment again: a rough drawing of the proposed new boundaries that included Fire House #2.
The building where Rob Elias wanted to set up his organization.
Spence sat back and let out a whoop of laughter.
Two birds, one stone, indeed.
* * *
It took Bree a couple of days to connect with Rob. It would have been faster if she had saved the card he’d given her with his phone number, but since she had tossed that—and since she didn’t want her sisters or her mother to know what she was doing—she had to be stealthy. It took a manufactured excuse to drop into the day care at the end of the day, a sudden craving for pizza, and a lie about leaving her phone in the car, but she finally got her hands on Annie’s phone. From there it took only a couple of minutes of hunting before she found Rob in the contact list.
“Got ya, you bastard,” she said, but even she had to admit that her words lacked their usual venom. The truth was that something had shifted for her when she sat in that meeting and heard those people say the things they had said. Never mind that she and her sisters had said far worse over the years, or that Margie had once threatened to turn him inside out and shove him through a pig’s anus. Her family had cause. Spence had cause. Those other people, though . . . well, as much as she hated to admit it, the most she could see from them was a serious case of misplaced priorities. That, and possibly too much time on their hands.
Bree didn’t want Rob in town. But she wanted him to leave because it was best for the rest of the Elias family, not because some so-called community activists had seized on him as their latest focus.
Once she and Annie had polished off the pizza and Bree had said her farewells, she forced herself to pull into a parking lot as soon as she was out of the sight of the day care, kill the engine, and place the call. Nothing would be served by waiting. Well, nothing other than an attack of nerves and anxiety. And since Spence wasn’t around to help her fall asleep, and she had to proctor an exam in the morning, she couldn’t afford to spend the night tossing and turning.
Still, as soon as the phone started ringing, she started praying that it would go to voice mail. Because, hey. Once she had done her part, she knew she would be able to sleep.
So of course, Rob picked up on the second ring.
“Elias,” he barked, and she sat back blinking at the phone. It took her a second to remember that he would have no way of knowing it was her number.
Somehow, the thought of her own father not knowing her phone number struck her as weirdly wrong.
“Hi.” She cleared her throat. “It’s Bree.”
Now it was his turn to be silent.
“Sabrina.” His voice was gentler but still wary. “Should I be glad for this call?”
She had no idea how to answer that, so she jumped straight to the point. “I need to talk to you.”
“All right. I’m home now.”
What, now? Really?
Somewhere up on a cloud, some malevolent being was rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally while whispering, Be careful what you wish for.
“Okay. Um . . . I would rather not come to your place. How about if you meet me at—”
“Bree, I can’t leave. I’m waiting on a delivery that I have to sign for. I’m not going anywhere.”
Well, that changed everything, didn’t it? He said he wanted to talk to them again. Claimed he would drop anything to meet with them. But now here she was, offering, and he had to stay home to sign for something.
She should seriously just tell the committee to go for it.
Instead, she pulled out a pen. “Fine. What’s the address?”
He rattled off a number. She scribbled it on the back of the pizza receipt.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She ended the call, slumped back in the seat, and eyed the convenience store where she was parked. Jenna would run inside, buy a six pack, and chug one before she went over. Well, maybe not anymore. But Bree vividly recalled her pulling just such a stunt once. When Bree had gone all Oldest Sister and shrieked about driving drunk, Jenna had said that it takes twenty minutes for food to make it to the stomach, so she would be at their destination before anything was processed. In fact, Jenna had said, if she hit the lights right, the beer would start to take effect just about the time the night got interesting.
By the time Bree finished looking it up and saw that Jenna had been totally lying, they were safely at their destination.
But that didn’t mean Bree wouldn’t deserve some sort of reward. Quickly, she ran into the store, purchased a king-size Hershey’s bar with almonds, and tossed it onto the passenger seat. It would be waiting for her when she came out of Rob’s place. No matter how badly things went—and she wasn’t holding out any hopes—there would at least be the joy of sweet milk chocolate at the end.
Who said behavior-modification techniques didn’t have some merit?
She plugged Rob’s address into her maps app and set out. Calypso Falls wasn’t that big. She could have made it without the canned voice warning her of her turns. But her focus wasn’t what it should be.
Purely because she was distracted by the chocolate, of course.
Precisely eleven minutes after hanging up, she pulled up in front of the house where Rob lived. He had told her he was in a little addition at the back of the house. She walked around the corner and through the chain link fence as instructed. A light was on over the door. Before she could knock, the door opened.
If he tried to hug her she was going to deck him.
“Bree. Good to see you.” He stepped back and let her in.
She followed him into an apartment that was almost as tiny as hers. More sparsely furnished, though, so it felt roomier.
“Cozy.” She waved around the room.
“It serves the purpose. What can I do for you?”
Where to begin?
“I went to the meeting the other night. The one with the people who—”
“The rabble-rousers. Yeah.” He dropped into a sofa only slightly more battered than her love seat and waved toward a wooden rocking chair. “Sit. You want some coffee or a beer or anything?”
She would practically sell her soul for a shot of Margie’s whiskey but decided it was better to hold out for the Hershey’s bar.
“No.” It came out sounding rude. Neenee would be ashamed. “I mean, no, thank you.”
She took the rocking chair, sitting on the edge, willing it to stay stable. “I’m not going to give you any inside information, okay? So don’t think that I’m here to tip you off about their plans.” Mostly because they had nothing concrete thus far, but she wasn’t about to let that slip. “But I have a question. Why do they hate you so much?”
If she needed any proof that Rob hadn’t forgotten his years in politics, it was there in the way he showed absolutely no reaction to her question. No surprise, no distress, nothing. She might as well have asked him if he still liked pineapple on his pizza.
And why the hell had she remembered that?
“I think you’d have to ask them that question.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“You can’t play dumb,” she said. “You grew up here. You knew a lot of these people before you and Mom moved away, you stayed in touch with a bunch of them, and as far as I know, you never screwed over the town of Calypso Falls.” Spence’s family was a totally different issue. “From what I can see, people have the right to be disgusted with what you did, but not personally outraged.”
“And yet that’s how it stands, isn’t it?”
She knotted and unknotted her fingers in her lap.
Rob stretched out his legs and leaned into the corner of the sofa. “Bree, I can’t give you a good answer. I know that a lot of people who knew me when I was growing up, who knew my family, felt betrayed when I messed up. I can’t say I blame them.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “On the other hand, I know damned well that some of them aren’t as lily-white as they like to pretend they are, either. So where they get off acting holier than thou is beyond me.”
“Someone said that it’s because you’re ruining the town’s reputation. That if you set up your organization here, it will be like saying Calypso Falls is a place where criminals are welcomed with open arms.”
“Could be.”
She studied him, searching for clues in his body posture. “That doesn’t seem to bother you.”
“Do you have any idea how many programs I put into place when I was mayor that would never have got off the ground if I’d let myself be stopped by any person who was worried about what I was doing to their neighborhood or their property values? There’s always opposition. There’s always people who think that anything the government does, at any level, is the worst mistake ever made. And the truth is that there will always be people who are going to be negatively impacted by any decision that gets made, and that’s unfortunate; and if I could have waved a magic wand so things could happen with no one being hurt, then yeah. I would have done that.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t work that way.”
Oh, he was good. He almost got her sidetracked into talking about public policy.
Almost.
“But that doesn’t really have anything to do with you and Calypso Falls and why people see you as such a pariah.”
“All I can tell you is that I think they’re pissed because I’m not behaving the way they think I should.”
That sounded possible. “Go on.”
“When someone screws up, we all know what they’re supposed to do. Apologize. Act ashamed. Keep their head down. Spend the rest of their days living in a way that makes it clear that they are never to be trusted or really accepted again, and any scraps of forgiveness they get should be received with humbleness and gratitude. Maybe even some slobbering.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
“I’m not doing that, Bree. I can’t and I won’t. Do I know I messed up? Hell yeah. Do I regret what I did to you girls and your mother? With every goddamned breath I take.”
For a second, his casual air slipped and she glimpsed the raw pain in his bleak eyes, in the tight lines around his mouth, in the way he seemed to collapse in on himself. In that moment, she knew that no matter what else she might think of him, she could never again doubt that he regretted losing them.
“But we have rights in this country. Even those of us who screw up. I paid for what I did, in ways none of those smug bastards will even know. Now I have the right to be here. And I have the right—no, I have the duty—to make amends in the best way I know how. I can’t undo everything I did, but I can damned well use what I have to help other people. It’s what I’ve done all my life. And if I were to spend the rest of my days hiding away, refusing to use my knowledge and experience to try to make things better for other people, then that would be almost as criminal as the things they charged me with.”
He meant it. Either that, or he was the world’s best actor.
“I’m not doing what people want me to do, Bree. I’m making them face up to their own hypocrisy, and don’t give me that look, because you know it’s true. People are quick to say, yeah, everyone deserves a second chance, everyone has the right to maintain family ties, but you know damned well they don’t mean it. Deep down, most people think that folks like me deserve to be stripped of everything that makes life worth living. So when I blow into town and say, hey, we can make things better for criminals by making sure they don’t lose the one thing that might give them the strength to stay on the straight and narrow when they get out—well, most of those people who claim to be all about understanding and moving on, they’re going to sit back and say, nope. Bad people over there. The rest of us over here. And all the goodies belong to the good.”
She wanted to think he was wrong. But he wasn’t.
“Anything else you want to know?” he asked, and his words were so unexpectedly gentle that they sent her down a rabbit hole of memory, tumbling back to the first day of school, the day the twins came home, the day she asked him why the police were mad at him.
And it seemed that she had temporarily lost the ability to speak.
“I . . .” She shook her head. Swallowed. Twisted her fingers some more. “No. I think . . . yeah. I don’t like what you said, but . . . yeah. You might be on to something.”
“You sure you don’t need something to drink?”
Her laugh was too short, too shaky, to allow her the dignity she wanted. “No. Really. I, um, should probably go.”
“Your call.” He studied her the way she would a student she suspected of cheating on a test. “But in case you haven’t figured it out already, the door is always open. And I’m usually here.”
“Right. Well.” Not that she expected to ever return, but still.
She stood, tugged at her sweater, hunted for words that seemed to have flown from her brain. “Thanks for . . . well, for the insight.”
“Anytime.”
No, she thought as she went back into the night. Never again.
* * *
Spence walked into the conference room, scanned the chairs, and let out a breath. Bree wasn’t there yet. No need to act casual and businesslike with her in front of an audience. It was difficult at the best of times, and it would probably be damned near impossible today.
Especially today. All thanks to the plans that were neatly tucked into his briefcase.
Damn it, why had Fred picked today to come down with the flu?
Alice bustled in, already chattering to Mercy. Keenan wandered in a few minutes later. Bree trailed after him, travel mug in hand, her eyes on the ground. Trying to avoid looking at him?
Probably a good tactic. He was already feeling as if there was a giant neon sign over his head, flashing a message about hot sex, great memories, and plans for the evening.
That is, assuming she would still want to talk to him after he made his case.
He pulled out his phone and pretended to check his e-mail. Of course Bree would still want to be with him. She had even stronger feelings about her father than he did. She understood how much good this forest could do. She was rational and intelligent and a team player. She wasn’t going to freak just because he was about to present a plan that would inadvertently—sort of—impact her father.
Okay. More than “sort of.” It would be a serious detriment to Rob’s plans. But wouldn’t that be the best possible solution? To make a change that would solve the Rob problem while bringing all kinds of good to the community and making it far more likely that the forest would receive widespread support?
It might look as if he was being vindictive; but really, from where he sat, it was a win-win. Long-term, of course.
His phone came to life with the notification of an incoming text. Livvy.
His gut clenched. She never bothered him in the daytime unless it was critical.
Please let one of the kids be sick and she needs me to run to school and do the uncle thing . . .
Hi baby brother.
Shit. She never called him that.
Are you busy tonight? I might need a shoulder. Also, the kids and I might need a place to stay.
Shit shit shit.
Do you want me to come over?
Yes please. Around five, if you can. The kids both have away games so they won’t be home.
Should I bring backup?
No. Just you.
I’ll be there. If you need me earlier, just say the word.
Thanks.
He placed the phone beside his laptop and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm himself. Damn Carl. He must have fucked up big-time.
He kind of hoped Livvy would be okay with him punching the bastard. Just once more. Just for the sheer satisfaction of messing up that face that made Carl so appealing to other women.
Across the table, Bree caught his eyes. She raised her brows the slightest bit—a silent okay?
He gave a tiny shake of his head. Her eyes clouded with what he knew was concern.
He grabbed his phone as the last group member hurried into the room. As Alice called them to order, he tapped out a fast message:
Livvy. Tell you later.
Bree was good. She managed to wait until the second report and a mention of dates before she casually picked up her phone. Anyone watching would have thought she was adding something to her calendar.
Big families must lead to more sneakiness than small ones did.
They made it through the various subcommittees and updates. Alice raised her pen in the air and pointed it at Bree and Spence.
“You two. You’ve both had some good suggestions for features to add to the forest. Playground.” The pen aimed at Spence. “Wedding pavilion.” She focused on Bree, then glanced around the table. “I know we got caught up in the grant work last time so I want us to talk about that before we move on to other business.”
“I think—” Mercy began, but Spence pushed his chair back. He had neither the time nor the patience for an endless debate today.
“Excuse the interruption, Ms. Rodrigues, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to present a third option.” He pulled the plans from his briefcase and spread them on the table. “If we were to make a slight shift in our boundaries and expand into this area, down here by Butternut Creek, I think you’ll see that we could accommodate both of those excellent additions.”
Chairs squeaked as everyone stood. Heads huddled around the plans. Fingers traced the lines. Spence heard muttered words.
“. . . public land . . .” “. . . the creek bed . . .” “. . . the empty fire station . . .”
Bree was at the edge of the circle, at a bad angle to see the side with the expansion, but at the mention of the fire hall her head snapped up. Her gaze met Spence’s. Her eyes, wide and disbelieving behind her glasses, were like a slug straight to his gut.
Damn it, Fred. You couldn’t wait a day?
“Excuse me,” Bree muttered, and dove under arms and around waists until she had a better view.
He knew the minute she saw what he was suggesting. Her finger hovered over the location of the fire hall. Her head stayed bowed. Her back rose and fell in short breaths that were suddenly interrupted by one long one that seemed to go on forever.
When she straightened, her face was as blank and unreadable as it had been at the very first meeting all those months ago.
She grabbed her bag, said something to Alice, who nodded sympathetically, and slipped out the door.
He wanted to go after her. Wanted to tell her to stop, think, realize that this could be the best solution for everyone.
But Alice was watching. And Keenan had a question.
And the vibrating of the phone in his pocket reminded him that the sooner he got out of this meeting, the sooner he could get to Livvy.
Bree was going to have to wait.