Читать книгу Prince Charming Wears A Badge - Lisa Dyson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON Callie reluctantly drove the hour and a half from her home just inside the Washington, DC, beltway to the town where she’d grown up in western Maryland. She’d spoken to her boss Friday afternoon and arranged to telework while she was away. Her boss hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d had no choice. She’d made the company a lot of money the past few years. They couldn’t afford to lose her, especially knowing there were several other financial firms that would gladly hire her immediately after this fiasco in Whittler’s Creek ended.
When she reached the sign welcoming her to Whittler’s Creek, her heart began to beat double-time. How had she gotten herself into this? Was it too late to give Andrew the entire amount for the stupid vase? Probably.
Callie’s plan for today was to arrive in town and immediately head to her father’s house to get their reunion over with. She loved her dad and missed having him in her life. But she couldn’t get past the feeling that he’d let her down all those years ago.
She drove through the “downtown” area of Whittler’s Creek that consisted of two blocks with a few small, family-run businesses, as well as a bank and the police station where Callie would report tomorrow morning. She continued on toward the outskirts of town and made a left turn on the winding uphill road that led to her childhood home.
When she reached the long driveway, she pulled over onto the gravel-and-dirt shoulder to gather her courage. She pressed the button to turn off the engine of her dark red sports car—the one she’d splurged on, buying it outright with her last bonus.
She could see the house farther up the hill. It didn’t appear much different than when she’d lived there all those years ago.
The house held painful secrets, but from the outside you’d never guess it was anything but run-down.
The white clapboard was dingy and one of the dark green shutters was missing, while several others hung slightly crooked. The landscaping needed work. The grass needed to be mowed and the evergreen bushes near the front door were overgrown. One of the large oak trees in the front yard was dead. The next big storm could knock the tree into the house if it wasn’t taken down soon.
Callie hadn’t called ahead to let her dad know she’d be coming. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know, it was more that she didn’t want to give her stepmother a heads-up. This visit would be difficult enough without giving the woman prep time.
Callie stayed in her car for quite a while, gathering her courage to face her past. There were only a few other houses down this quiet road. Not even one car passed by as she sat there.
Her stomach was in knots. She should have eaten lunch, but she’d figured an empty stomach was better than a full one that could reverse direction if her anxiety got out of control.
Which it was definitely threatening.
She uncapped the water bottle in the center console drink holder and took a long swig. The cool liquid somewhat soothed her dry mouth but offered no relief to her stomach. She replaced the cap and turned her attention back to her father’s house.
A car was visible in the detached garage, the door having been left open. She hoped that meant her father was home, but she’d been gone too long to know if it was her father’s car or her stepmother’s.
It was now or never. She would prefer never, but that wouldn’t make her therapist happy. Callie needed to get this over with and move on.
The engine turned over when she pressed the start button. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the gearshift and froze.
She reminded herself that she was an adult now. Not the eighteen-year-old who’d left home for college eleven years ago. She could stand up for herself, could leave whenever she wanted. No one could force her to do something against her will.
She wasn’t that scared little girl, so easily intimidated.
She put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the two-lane road riddled with potholes that still hadn’t been patched from last year’s harsh winter.
She carefully turned right into the long driveway leading to her childhood home and stopped abruptly.
Her head throbbed.
Before she could change her mind, she threw the car into reverse and backed out onto the street to face the direction from which she’d come.
A single bead of sweat ran down her temple. Not from the heat but from anxiety.
Without another glance at the house, she gunned the engine and headed back through the downtown area.
She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she let it out as she passed the sign saying Thanks for Visiting Whittler’s Creek, Come Again.
She knew of a small hotel in a neighboring town that she could check in to for the night. After breakfast tomorrow, she’d look for a more semi-permanent housing solution, rather than pay daily hotel rates.
She’d also work on reinforcing her courage.
* * *
MONDAY MORNING TYLER GARRETT rubbed his face with both hands, barely able to control the urge to bang his head on his desk as he surveyed his crowded office.
He was Whittler’s Creek’s Chief of Police, not a financial guru. He had no way of deciphering the mountain of binders and documents that had been packed into boxes and were now taking up much of the walking space in his already cramped office.
He’d received an anonymous email late last week about discrepancies in the town’s financial records. With no ability to track down where the email had originated, he had immediately requested a court order before the records could be doctored. After Judge Parsons had signed off on it, Tyler had requested the records be brought to his office from a building down the street. He’d never imagined there would be so much paper involved.
What happened to going digital like the rest of the country?
Then he considered where he was living. A small town in western Maryland. Even though a few residents commuted to DC or Baltimore, the majority had lived here most of their lives and rarely ventured more than an hour or so away. They preferred to keep their lives simple.
His phone rang. “Chief Garrett.”
“Good morning, Chief Garrett. This is Dr. Jeffrey Hammond. I’m a psychologist in Bethesda and I have a court-ordered patient who will be coming to Whittler’s Creek to do her community service. I sent you an email over the weekend with the details.”
Great. Just what he needed. Another criminal coming to town. “I haven’t gotten to email yet this morning.” He glanced at the banker’s boxes surrounding his desk and shook his head.
“I understand.” Dr. Hammond went on to give Tyler a few details. “I’m not at liberty to explain too much about Ms. James’s current situation, but she grew up there and still has family in town. I trust that you will provide adequate supervision for her court-ordered community service?”
“Absolutely.” Ms. James? As in Callie James? If that’s who it was, he hadn’t seen her in years. Not since he’d witnessed her explosive temper the night he’d walked her home from a party. He’d had a huge crush on her, asking her out several times but getting the same negative response from her each time. The night of the party he thought he’d been the luckiest guy in Whittler’s Cove until her true personality revealed itself.
He fired up his dated desktop computer while Dr. Hammond continued talking.
“Thank you for understanding and for your discretion.” By the time Dr. Hammond disconnected, Tyler’s computer was finally opening the email program.
He needed to take a look at the town’s budget and see about new computers. How was he expected to do his job if he couldn’t even check email in a timely fashion?
He wiped sweat from the back of his neck. The air-conditioning was on the fritz again, too, and the outside temperature on this July morning was already in the low eighties.
The program finally opened and he found Dr. Hammond’s email. There it was. Callie James. Grew up in Whittler’s Creek and has family issues to deal with.
No kidding. Callie’s stepsister used to hang out with Tyler’s sister back in high school, and the stepsister had been a terrible influence on Isabelle. Thankfully, the two young women had gone their separate ways after high school.
Had Callie changed since high school? Obviously not, if she had community service hours to fulfill. According to his sister and what he’d witnessed, Callie could be as mean and nasty as an angry wasp.
What about physically? Had she let herself go as much as others he’d seen around town? She’d always kept her light blond hair long, allowing it to swing to and fro or weaving it into a thick braid. Was it still long? Did she still twist it around her fingers when she became nervous?
He remembered her cupid’s-bow lips, shiny with lip gloss. How he’d always wanted to taste her mouth, wondering if she used fruit-flavored gloss like some of the other girls their age. But he’d kept his distance because his sister had always insisted that Callie had an explosive temper. He hadn’t believed it until he’d seen it firsthand.
Was that what had forced her return to Whittler’s Creek? Had her temper done her in?
A loud knock on the frame of his office door had him opening his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. “Yes?” he said to the youngest of his three patrolmen on the Whittler’s Creek Police Force.
“You have a visitor, Chief.” Pete Meyers ran a hand over his bald head. He was only a few years older than Tyler’s thirty, but between losing his hair and being overweight by a good forty pounds, Pete looked older than his years. “Callie something.”
“Callie James.” She’d come up to the doorway behind Pete.
Tyler would have recognized her voice without even seeing her.
Physically, she was everything he remembered and more. She wore a navy suit jacket and matching pencil skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees. Her filmy white blouse had several of the top buttons open to reveal multiple strands of large gold chains around her neck. Her neutral-tan pumps added about four inches to her average height.
She still had the ability to heat his blood, but he was an adult now and knew better than to get too close to a smoldering fire.
“Thanks, Pete.” He waved Callie in and rose from his chair. Her deep blue eyes with long lashes gave her an innocent quality. “Have a seat.” He pointed to one of the two beat-up chairs on the other side of his desk. He sat when she did. “I apologize for the heat. The AC repairman was here three times last week, but the system needs to be replaced.” He swallowed, feeling like he was babbling. “I haven’t seen you since high school, Callie. How have you been?”
She crossed one bare leg over the other. “Pretty good, until I had to come back here.”
He nodded, forcing his eyes from her legs to her face.
“What about you? I didn’t realize you were the one I’d be reporting to.” She looked around his cramped office. “What are you doing back here? Weren’t you going to West Point? Planning to make the Army a career?”
“I left the Army. Plans change.” He didn’t want to get into the details of his own life. That wasn’t why she sat across from him.
“So you’re the Chief of Police now?”
“That’s right. For about a year now.” He checked the email again from Dr. Hammond. “It says here you need to perform community service hours. You couldn’t do them where you’re living?”
“I was going to, but Dr. Hammond thought I should come back here to see my family.”
“How long has it been?”
She twisted a lock of her still-long hair. “Eleven years. I guess he figured it would take more than a day trip for me to resolve things to his satisfaction.”
“Eleven years is a long time to not see your family.” He couldn’t imagine how painful it would be if either of his young daughters someday decided to stay away from him for that long.
She shrugged. “If I’d been given a choice, I would never have come back.”
* * *
WHEN TYLER DIDN’T COMMENT, Callie turned the focus on him. “What about your dad? Is he still living in town?”
Tyler hesitated and cleared his throat. “He died almost a year and a half ago.”
Callie leaned forward. “I’m so sorry. He was a great guy.” Tyler’s dad had been very active in youth sports when they were growing up. As the owner of Garrett’s Hardware Store, he’d had flexible hours, allowing him to be on the practice fields after school. He was also very generous when it came to sponsoring teams. Callie’s softball shirt with Garrett’s across the back came to mind. “What about the store? Is someone still running it?”
Tyler shook his head. “Dad closed it when he got sick. He sold the inventory and gave up the lease. The furniture store that was next door—Pratt’s—expanded into the space.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It was for the best. Dad had an inoperable brain tumor and it was either close the store then or my sister and I would have had to do it after he passed away.”
“Neither of you wanted to continue running it?”
“Isabelle definitely had no interest. And, at the time, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”
Isabelle’s best friend had been Callie’s stepsister, Wendy, who’d had a major crush on Tyler. Had the two of them ever gotten together? Pushing the question to the back of her mind, Callie opened her mouth to ask why he’d left the Army—she had a hunch there was a story to that—but he changed the subject before she could bring it up.
“Now, about your community service...” He consulted his computer while she took in his broad shoulders. He’d gone from slim teenager to well-built adult. “You’re only the second person I’ve had report to me to fulfill their hours. I’ll have to see what I can find.” He clicked a few keys.
“What did that other person do for their service hours?”
He looked at her with his deep-set, dark brown eyes. As a teenager she’d thought of them as puppy-dog eyes, but on a grown man they were downright sexy. “He loaded and unloaded mulch into a truck and spread it at the elementary school. He did some other landscaping, too.” Tyler glanced at her and took in her outfit from head to toe. “I’m not sure landscaping is right for you. Besides, you’re not dressed for work like that.”
She heated at his perusal. “I have clothes to change into.” In truth, she’d worn her office clothes, hoping the Chief of Police would see her as a professional and not someone ready to do hard labor. Not that she wasn’t strong, but if she had to do community service, she might as well do something that would benefit the community. It never crossed her mind that Tyler would be the person holding authority over her. She doubted he’d give her any kind of break, though, no matter how she’d dressed.
“That’s good.” He clicked keys on his computer again and the printer in the corner, partially hidden by banker’s boxes, came alive.
Tyler stood to retrieve what he’d printed. He glanced at the page and then handed it to Callie. “You can report to this address tomorrow morning at eight. There’s a volunteer group, mostly seniors, who have planned a clean-up of the city streets.”
“Are you talking about picking up trash?”
His dark, well-groomed eyebrows rose. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Her hands clenched and unclenched automatically. “Of course not.” She rose. “I’ll be sure to be on time.”
She was outside his office when she heard him add, “You might want to wear gloves and shoes you don’t care about. Oh, and long pants. You never know when you’ll run into poison ivy or the occasional snake.”
She shivered at the thought. “Great,” she muttered to herself. She should have guessed that he’d give her a nasty job rather than one she was actually suited to. He hadn’t even asked about her skills.
For that matter, he hadn’t asked her anything about herself. Was he still holding that outburst against her? The one she hadn’t held back that last night before leaving for college? She’d thought letting him walk her home from that party would be nice. She’d planned to leave for college the next day and he’d made it clear all summer that he was interested in her.
But even if she could go back and do everything differently, there was no way to a happy ending. One of two things would have happened regardless. Either her stepsister would find a way to hurt her physically or emotionally because she wanted Tyler for herself, or, sooner or later, Tyler would have discovered how dysfunctional her family really was. What he’d witnessed that night was a mere hint of the reality.
Fine. His disinterest didn’t bother her. She had things to do and she’d get them done and get out of town.
She should have thought to bring old shoes with her, not that she really owned any. She tended to clean out her closet every spring and donate to the local women’s shelter. They were always looking for gently-worn work clothes, shoes and purses so disadvantaged women could go on job interviews and hopefully make new lives for themselves and their children. Callie was happy to help them out.
She got into her car and turned the air-conditioning up to maximum. She twisted her long hair into a bun and secured it with a few bobby pins from her purse. The heat in Tyler’s office had been stifling. The town was obviously in a financial bind if it couldn’t replace the AC or even Tyler’s ancient computer.
She pulled out of the small visitors’ parking lot next to the police station and headed to her appointment to see about a room for rent. It was the only option she’d found on Craigslist within a twenty-mile radius.
Callie could have lived out of a hotel, but she preferred to not waste her hard-earned money. And she’d save a lot if things worked out with Mrs. Thompson.
The house was a few blocks from the police station. When Callie had lived in Whittler’s Creek, this home had been occupied by Mrs. Thompson, her husband and their four children. The children must be grown by now since the youngest was only a year older than Callie. Mrs. Thompson had been the one who’d listed the rental.
The large Victorian home with its wrap-around porch sat on an oversize corner lot. It was probably a hundred years old, but from the outside it looked pristine. Especially compared to her father’s house that was only about half as old.
The pale blue painted clapboard and white gingerbread trim appeared fresh. The lawn was mowed and there were flowers blooming everywhere Callie looked. Definitely a pleasant place to come home to after picking up trash all day.
When she’d communicated by email with Mrs. Thompson yesterday, Callie had discovered that the woman had turned her home into a boardinghouse after her husband died. Callie assumed it was for financial reasons. One of her daughters had been living with her but had recently moved out, leaving an empty room to rent.
Parking beside the curb, Callie straightened her clothes and walked to the front door. Even close up, she could see how well-kept the property was.
Mrs. Thompson answered the door almost immediately after Callie rang the bell. “Come in! Come in!” She stepped out of the way for Callie to enter. If Callie hadn’t known Mrs. Thompson was in her late fifties, she would have guessed her as being closer to fifty. The petite woman with auburn hair and not a single gray had a welcoming smile and an energetic attitude to go with it.
She drew Callie in for a hug, catching her off guard. “It’s so good to see you after all these years,” Mrs. Thompson said.
Callie hadn’t known Mrs. Thompson very well, but the woman obviously remembered her. Mrs. Thompson had been the team mom on Callie’s softball team and she had also been the room mother in her third-grade classroom.
Mrs. Thompson kept an arm at Callie’s waist as she ushered her from the entryway, down a short hallway and into the kitchen with its white cabinets, yellow walls and royal blue accents. “Come, we’ll have something to drink and you can tell me what you’ve been doing.” She named both hot and cold drinks.
Callie swallowed, still in shock by the warm reception. “Coffee sounds good.” Unlike the police department, the AC in Mrs. Thompson’s house was in good working condition.
“So, tell me what you’ve been up to, Callie,” Mrs. Thompson said as she busied herself getting the coffee.
“Well, since grad school, I’ve been living in Silver Spring. I’m a financial analyst at a large firm in Bethesda.”
“How wonderful! I’m sure you’re great at what you do.”
Again, Callie didn’t know how to react to Mrs. Thompson’s enthusiasm. She hadn’t gotten even close to that reaction from Tyler. He’d appeared guarded. Did he really hold what happened all those years ago against her? Couldn’t he at least be friendly?
She’d been nervous as hell when she’d first seen him today. He was a mature version of the handsome teenage boy she’d crushed on in her past life, but her teenage reaction to him hadn’t changed. Her mouth had gone dry, her heart beat double-time and words had been hard to find.
“I’m doing something I love,” she told Mrs. Thompson, “so I think that helps to make me good at it.” Callie didn’t know why else she was so successful at choosing the right investments to make others a lot of money, but it had certainly been financially rewarding for her personally, as well.
Mrs. Thompson set a cup of coffee in front of Callie, who’d taken a seat at the counter. “What do you like in it?”
“A splash of something white,” Callie said with a smile. “Skim, whole milk, cream, half-and-half. I’m not choosy. I think needing to add it is psychological because I’ve told myself I don’t like black coffee.”
The two women chuckled while Mrs. Thompson retrieved some cream from the fridge. They spoke for a few minutes about things going on in town while they drank their coffee.
“I never asked you why you’re back,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I’m guessing it’s family related.”
“Something like that.” Callie wasn’t ready to divulge too much yet, especially before her family knew she was in town.
“I get it. You need a place to escape instead of staying at your parents’. Sometimes family can be overwhelming.” Mrs. Thompson took the last swallow of her coffee.
Callie merely nodded and then changed the subject. “So you’ve been renting out rooms for several years?”
“Since right after my Jeffrey died. It’s been almost five years now.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thompson.”
She nodded. “Thank you. And, please, none of this Mrs. Thompson nonsense. I’m Poppy to everyone.”
“Poppy.” Callie still felt like the young girl who used to live in Whittler’s Creek, not an adult on the same level as others in town.
Poppy put their cups in the dishwasher. “I think I told you the rent is one fifty a week and that includes breakfast and dinner. We do family style for whoever is here at six o’clock. If you miss it, there are always leftovers for you to heat up later.”
Callie nodded. The rent on her condo was four times that and no meals were included. She’d often thought about buying a condo or house instead of throwing away so much money on rent, but with the unstable real estate market, it was too big a risk. And she’d probably never buy a house. A bigger place to take care of wasn’t practical since she had little spare time as it was.
“I’ll show you around and you can decide if this is the right place for you,” Poppy said as she led the way through the dining room and into the living room. “Feel free to use any of the rooms down here. I like my guests to feel as if this is their home, too.”
Callie knew before going upstairs to see her bedroom that she would accept Poppy’s invitation to stay here. She’d never lived anywhere that was this welcoming. Her current home was just a place to return to when not working. She had no one to greet her or to miss her. No pleasant family dinners—not that she’d grown up with them.
“Here’s where you would be staying.” Poppy gestured to the doorway at the top of the open staircase.
Callie stepped into a large room that held a queen-size bed with brass headboard and footboard, a full-length mirror on a brass stand and a small love seat positioned in a bay window that let in lots of light.
Poppy opened a door to show her a small closet and then crossed the room to open another door. “This is the only room on this floor with a private bathroom.”
“This is a wonderful room,” she told Poppy. “I’d love to stay here.”
Poppy smiled. “I’m so glad to hear that. My daughter, Molly, really loved this room.”
Another question popped into Callie’s head. “So who else is living here right now?”
Poppy pointed to the next doorway down the hall. “This room is being rented by a young man going through a divorce, but he told me just last night that he’d be moving out at the end of the week. So I’ll need to put another ad on Craigslist.”
Callie was wondering if she’d like his room even better when Poppy said, “His is the smallest and has no private bathroom.”
“What about those two rooms?” Callie pointed down the hall. “Is one of them yours?”
“Oh, no. I’ve got my own suite in the attic. Those rooms are rented by my nephew and his two young daughters. I hope that doesn’t make you change your mind. I forgot to mention that there would be children in the house. Although they’re very well behaved.”
Callie smiled. “That’s not a problem at all.” She wasn’t used to being around kids, but how difficult could it be for what she hoped would be a short time before she went back to her old life? And then she remembered who Mrs. Thompson’s nephew was.
“Oh, you might even know my nephew. I think you’re about the same age and he grew up here, too. It’s Tyler Garrett. His sweet little girls are Alexis and Madison.”
