Читать книгу Smooth Moves - Carrie Alexander, Carrie Alexander - Страница 8

“YOU’LL NEVER GUESS,” Gwendolyn Case boomed as she sailed through Scarborough Faire’s aisles toward the long farmhouse table where the rest of the Wednesday-night calligraphers had already taken out their pens and papers. “Guess who’s coming back to Quimby!”

Cathy Timmerman, the shopkeeper and head calligrapher, stifled her sigh of frustration. Calligraphy required concentration, hard to come by with this group.

Faith Fagan, a wan blonde, looked confused. “But you said we’d never—”

“Guess!” With one forceful word, buxom brunette Gwendolyn easily silenced meek Faith. Suffused with the power of her knowledge, Gwen put her hands on her hips and smiled broadly at the group. As self-appointed doyenne of the post office, she had her ear to the grapevine…and her mouth perpetually set to gossip mode.

Looking as peaked as Faith, Laurel Barnard slumped against the spindle back of one of the wooden chairs Cathy had picked up at rummage sales and then painted with colorful, whimsical patterns of swirls, dots, stripes and stars. Laurel, the pretty owner of the dress shop next door, opened her mouth, then couldn’t seem to summon words. Only one man was legend enough to evince such an announcement.

“Heartbreak,” said a calm voice.

Gwendolyn’s head spun around. Air huffed through her open mouth.

Carefully Julia Knox lifted the point of her pen off the paper. She shook her head so that a misplaced strand of honey-brown hair fell neatly into place in her precision-cut bob. “Yes, ladies, it’s shocking but true. Zack Brody is returning to Quimby.”

Somewhat deflated now that she’d been beaten to the punch, Gwen plopped into a peppermint-striped chair. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Allie Spangler said, “Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy,” and then suddenly all five of the Heartbroken were talking at once, even Faith.

Only Cathy Timmerman, whose position with the Wednesday nighters was often less that of a crafts teacher than a therapist, was silent. And it wasn’t because she didn’t know Zack “Heartbreak” Brody, although as far as these women and the rest of the town were concerned, she didn’t. Never met him at all.

Presumably.

Cathy had moved to Quimby only seven months ago, and Zack Brody had been gone for approximately a year. All she knew of him as an adult were the praises sung by the townsfolk and the frequent yet affectionate complaints lodged by the Wednesday nighters.

A year should have been enough time to heal a broken heart—even five of them—but of course Heartbreak was a legend unto himself. Ordinarily, Cathy might have believed that in Zack’s case time and distance had served to heighten, even exaggerate, his reputed lady-killer charms. She would have taken the women’s words with not just a grain but an entire shaker of salt.

Ordinarily, she might have.

If not for her secret.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Allie Spangler shouted above the fray. The women quieted. “Personally, I can’t believe it. Only last week—” Allie scrambled for her purse to a quartet of groans. “Okay, only a month ago, I had a postcard from Zack. He didn’t mention—aha, here it is!” She pulled the item from her disorganized saddlebag of a purse, blissfully unaware that the worn card’s continuing presence in her happily-married life was telling in its own way. Waving a red-rock canyon river scene at the other women, she said, “Zack’s still in Idaho with his brother.”

“A month ago, Allie.” Julia checked the postmark. April 6th. “Make that nearly two months ago.”

“So there,” Gwen said. “Kelly Thompson heard from the Rickeys in Florida who are neighbors to Eve Brody’s sister. Heartbreak’s coming home. Soon.”

“Julia?” Laurel’s voice was reedy. “Is this true? What do you know?”

With the excuse that she didn’t want anyone fainting in her store, Cathy was watching Laurel Barnard closely. The fellow shopkeeper’s face had gone from stark white to a mottled rosy pink. There was a fine trembling about her mouth. Though Cathy’s own emotions were in turmoil, she girded herself to minister first to Laurel.

Poor, poor Laurel. Heartbreak’s jilted bride.

Pale, feminine, maidenly slim at twenty-eight, Laurel’s air was delicate—misleadingly so, in Cathy’s opinion. Then again, at hearing the news, Laurel had believably gone from merely delicate to fragile as antique porcelain. The panic in her eyes seemed very real. While Cathy had never been sure if she entirely believed Laurel’s side of the cancelled wedding, she did sympathize with the woman. Being forever known as Quimby’s resident jilted bride couldn’t be easy.

Julia Knox capped her bottle of ink, her strong features drawn together in thought. She had been Heartbreak’s long-term girlfriend—from high school through a few years of college—and yet was still the most philosophical about him. While stingy with details, she claimed their breakup had been amicable. However, she also seemed to take little serious interest in the men she’d dated in the years hence.

“I’m afraid it’s true, Laurel.” Julia placed her manicured hand on the other woman’s sleeve. “Zack told me to take the Brody house off the market months ago.”

“Months?” Gwen was outraged. “And you kept it to yourself?”

Laurel sniffled. Faith handed her a tissue.

Julia was a Realtor. The Realtor, insular Quimby-style. “Zack and I haven’t spoken. He sent me a fax, Gwen. It didn’t provide any information concrete enough to share, except that he was planning to eventually return to town.”

Whatever Julia’s inside information, Cathy was certain that the real estate agent wouldn’t have shared inappropriate details. And definitely not with Gwen, whose heart was in the right place beneath her bluster, but whose restraint was suspect.

Upon her arrival in Quimby, Cathy had purchased her business and leased a house through Julia Knox’s small but exceedingly professional agency. She’d soon seen that in business dealings, Julia was cool, efficient, responsible. Once earned as a friend, she was warm, thoughtful and unquestionably loyal. Cathy valued Julia’s word above all others.

“I heard he’s arriving tomorrow,” Gwen said, dropping the bomb.

Faith squeaked. Laurel gasped. “Tomorrow!”

Allie’s freckles stood out in stark relief; she looked like she’d swallowed a frog. “Urg,” she said thickly, waving her hands.

“There’s no need to get crazy over this,” Julia counseled the agitated women. “Zack has every right to come back to Quimby—”

“Huh!” Gwendolyn crossed her arms over her chest, looking combative.

Laurel spoke. “I’ll say this—the town’s not big enough for both of us.”

Cathy was startled by the seething resentment evident in Laurel’s voice. Admittedly, being jilted by your catch-of-a-lifetime groom at the very altar of your dream-come-true wedding was not something a woman gets over in a week’s time. A year later, though…

Cathy shrugged inwardly. Who was she to question Laurel’s animosity toward Zack Brody? She, herself, had known him for only the one school year. Fifth grade, at that. And his memory had lingered for nearly two decades.

The man’s charms were potent.

It stood to reason that his betrayal would be poisonous.

Evidently Julia thought so, too. When she looked at Laurel, her amber hazel eyes filled with sympathy, and something more. Perhaps a touch of exasperation? Nonetheless, she wound a comforting arm around the woman she’d known for years. “You don’t have to associate with him, Laurel.”

Laurel heaved a watery sigh and laid her head on Julia’s shoulder. Her moment of vindictiveness had dissipated into a kind of childish helplessness that Cathy had seen her employ before. “I don’t see how I can avoid it.”

Gwen’s eyes were avid. “You can bet he’ll be showing up everywhere, shaking hands, making amends. Heck, most of the town’s already forgiven him. They still think he’s the greatest thing since Oxie Shaw made the basket that beat Buxton.”

“It wasn’t for them to judge him in the first place.” Short, auburn-haired Allie Colton Spangler was staunchly proHeartbreak. Not even the circumstances of Laurel’s jilting had shaken her good opinion of the man. The Coltons and the Brodys had been neighbors; Allie had grown up with Zack. Their relationship had never been romantic—which may have been why she was the only currently married woman among them—but they had been extremely close. Even her husband accepted that Heartbreak would always own a special place in Allie’s heart.

“What Zack did was wrong.” Once roused, Julia’s disapproval was fierce. “It may have turned out that he had a good reason, with his brother and all, but to skip town on the day of the wedding without explanation, leaving Laurel to contend with all the mess and questions—” Lips compressed, Julia shook her head in censure. “No wonder she can’t forgive him.”

Laurel swept aside the lustrous wave of rich chestnut hair that had fallen across her face. “Oh, I hate to remember. It was so humiliating….”

Faith cooed with commiseration.

Idly, Cathy drew elaborate swirls and curlicues on her practice paper. No calligraphy tonight. Since Heartbreak’s actions had stuck Laurel with the role of tragic jilted heroine whether she liked it or not, the woman had chosen to play it to the hilt. There would be no quick end to the dramatic embellishments of her legendary trauma.

A temporary escape seemed advisable. Feeling guilty about the short shrift of her sympathy for Laurel, Cathy offered to make a quick run to the Central Street Café for coffee and sweets.

When she returned ten minutes later with a tray of steaming foam cups and a box of assorted baked goods, Laurel was in better shape. Or at least sitting upright, Cathy noted as she distributed coffee, plastic spoons, and packets of sugar and cream. Progress.

“He shouldn’t get away with it,” Laurel said, adding a minuscule sprinkling of sugar to her coffee. Color flamed high in her cheeks; her green eyes were unnaturally bright. “I’ve suffered. So should he.”

Cathy held her tongue. Laurel’s “suffering” included the condolence gift of a fashionable dress shop by her placating parents, considerable leeway from the townsfolk and a steady string of suitors eager to restore her faith in men.

Julia agreed—with caution. “A stern scolding is in order.”

Gwen snorted. “A scolding? How about a tar-and-feathering?”

Wide-eyed, Allie put down a half-eaten doughnut and wiped powdered sugar off the tips of her prominent nose and jutting chin. The unorthodox features were at odds with her bubbly personality and rounded figure. “Are we talking revenge?” Allie’s eyes glinted. She may have been Zack’s champion, but she was also an inveterate prankster. “Hmm. Well. Gee. Maybe one nasty turn does deserve another.”

“Teach him a lesson,” Gwen vowed, spraying cookie crumbs.

“Break his heart,” Faith put in.

The women turned toward Faith as one, clearly struck by the idea.

The quiet secretary’s gaze lowered. Her chin dropped. “Why shouldn’t he know what it feels like?” she murmured into her coffee, giving them a quick glance through her colorless lashes.

As far as Cathy knew, Faith Fagan’s only connection to Zack was the crush she’d been nursing ever since he’d rescued her from drowning in Mirror Lake during his suitably legendary stint as town lifeguard. The women’s description of Heartbreak in swimming trunks—handsome, tanned, sporting sun-bleached highlights, a mile-wide chest and a six-pack of tight, toned abs—was so vivid that Cathy could almost see him herself when she closed her eyes and concentrated. Which she found herself doing all too often.

Gwen gave one sharp clap of her hands. “Exactly.” Twice divorced, it was her contention that a formative junior-high fling with Heartbreak had ruined her for other men. Ordinary men.

Julia frowned. “Let’s not be harsh.”

“You know, I think Faith’s hit on something.” Allie was contemplative. “Now, I’m not saying I want to see Zack hurt. But it does make sense that if he were to have an inkling of how his ex-girlfriends feel, maybe he won’t be quite so cavalier in his treatment of the next woman.” Her long, narrow nose twitched. “And we all know there’s going to be a next woman.”

“With Zack,” Julia said, nodding, “there always is.”

“It’s about time—” Gwen snapped her chocolate-chip cookie in half “—for Heartbreak to experience heartbreak.”

“But how?” Faith asked.

“Hmm.” Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “All we need is a woman. A beautiful woman, obviously. Someone to attract Zack, seduce him to his begging knees, then cut him down cold. Without explanation. Leave him wondering what the hell happened.” She smiled.

“That sounds kind of mean,” Faith murmured.

Laurel’s eyes flashed. “No meaner than what he did to me.”

“I don’t know…” Julia started to say, but Gwen cut her off.

“Where are we gonna find the woman?” she demanded. “Not in Quimby. Heartbreak’s already scorched the playing field.”

“I’m sure there are a number of younger girls who’d be more than willing,” Laurel said through gritted teeth.

Julia shook her head. “A twenty-year-old won’t do. Zack is attracted to more than a pretty face and a nubile body.”

Laurel conceded the point. “I suppose the woman has to have a degree of substance.”

“And intelligence,” added Julia. “Let’s throw out some names.”

“Karen or Kelly?”

Gwen made a face. “Naw, he’s known them forever.”

“Caitlyn Dumbrowski?”

“Bleach job,” Laurel sneered.

“Erica James?”

“Already hooked up with Heartbreak, like, ten years ago.”

“Suzy Maki?”

“With those teeth? She should be seducing a dentist.”

“Then who?”

“Sara Carlisle will be vacationing at her family’s cabin next month,” Julia suggested. “She’s absolutely gorgeous and smart enough to have made it through law school. And a feminist, too. I bet she’d be game, for the good of the cause.”

Allie waved a hand. “Nope, not Sara. Zack already went out with her—somewhere in between you and Laurel. But she was too smart to fall for his smooth moves.”

“Unlike us,” Gwen said, dourly eyeing a fudge bar.

“We need someone new.” With a sigh, Laurel scanned the women at the table for further suggestions. Her gaze skidded to a halt when it reached Cathy’s face, temporarily filled with cherry streusel. Brows arched, she glanced back at Julia. “Someone like Cathy.”

Julia nodded immediately. “Yes. Zack would go for Cathy.”

“Ohh—” Flushing hotly, Cathy put down the streusel and licked her sticky fingers. “Oh, no. Not me.” She threw up her hands, fingertips glistening. “Don’t even consider it. I’m not the type.”

“You could be.” Laurel studied Cathy’s stark ponytail, horn-rimmed glasses and loose, shapeless clothing. “Take off your glasses. And that awful apron.”

Defensively Cathy wrapped her arms around the denim apron that bore evidence of her close working association with paint, glue, papier-mâché and clay. “No.”

Laurel snatched off the glasses. “Uh-huh. See that, girls? Those are good bones. The brows desperately need tweezing, and makeup will make a world of difference, but I see definite possibilities.” She rose gracefully, walked around Cathy and with a tug loosened the ponytail. Cathy’s long wavy hair fell across her shoulders, such a rich shade of sable it was nearly black.

“Ahhh,” the women chorused.

“Why, Cath, you’re beautiful,” Allie said. “I never realized.”

“I’m not—” Cathy swallowed the denial, though it went down like a sticky lump of clay. Objectively, she knew that she was…attractive. Or could be, if she cared to make the effort. After a bit of trial and error in her younger days—a time that had included a brief audacious-babe stage and a mistaken marriage of equally short duration—she had reached the conclusion that she wasn’t comfortable with the attention and perks that came with being a beautiful woman.

“I’m not the type,” she insisted, shrugging Laurel’s hands away from smoothing out her hair. “Please don’t ask me to do this.”

“You won’t have to actually sleep with Heartbreak,” Julia assured her. “In fact, the plan would be more effective if you don’t. Getting him all worked up and then leaving him frustrated would be quite a shock to the guy’s ego.”

Allie chuckled. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“We’ll coach you,” coaxed Laurel. “For one thing—” she grasped a bunch of gauzy fabric at Cathy’s midriff, pulling taut her batik Balinese blouse “—new clothes from my store would make a world of difference. Something sleek and stylish. There’s a waist and hips under here… I think.” She stepped back, considering.

Cathy shifted on her chair, uneasy with the assessment.

“What’s your bra size? I’ve got a new line of lingerie that’s just…” Laurel kissed her fingertips. “Heartbreak will never recover.”

Cathy tightened her crossed arms. “Forget it. Nobody, least of all Zack Brody, is getting a look at my lingerie.” Or lack of it, she thought. Jockey for Her underwear was good enough for this woman. Satin and lace, corsets and garter belts weren’t her style. Or at least she was pretty sure they weren’t.

“I can give you the right look,” Laurel said as if Cathy hadn’t spoken. “Julia and Allie can give you insight into Heartbreak’s mind. We’ll put the whole thing together. All you have to do is follow directions.”

“I can’t,” Cathy said plaintively. Good thing they had no idea how much she wanted to. “Honestly.” She gestured at herself. “There’s no use. I could never pull it off.”

“Not even for womankind?” Allie asked.

“Or for plain old-fashioned revenge?” Gwen chimed in.

Cathy’s heart clenched. “No.”

“Yes,” Laurel said. There was iron in her voice, which belied the hurt expression she’d assumed in begging Cathy’s favor. “C’mon, Cath. You’re my only hope for retribution. Imagine for one minute how terrible I felt when that—that—smooth operator jilted me.” Laurel’s eyes shifted. “Think of how delicious an appropriate payback would be.”

The women murmured in agreement.

Cathy closed her eyes. “I couldn’t. No…” Her denials were losing strength. But not because of Laurel’s devastation or the future of womankind.

Because of Zack.

Twenty-odd years ago, she’d taken him to her tender, wounded heart. The thought of seeing him again, attracting him, seducing him, maybe even loving him—

And making him fall in love with her in return.

Cathy’s eyes opened wide. Of course. That was it. She was being handed the chance of a lifetime!

The women watched her expectantly.

Cathy made a snap decision.

Disregarding both the legend behind Zack’s nickname and the genesis of her own insecurities, she took a deep breath and said with all the courage and conviction she could muster: “All right, then. I’ll do it.”

The women cheered.

For my own reasons, Cathy added silently, smiling weakly as Laurel hugged her around the shoulders.