Woman in Blue Read online

  It must have been enough to satisfy Lindsay because the tightness went out of her face. “You didn’t wreck it.” She gave a small, grudging smile. “At least no one can say it was boring. And I’m sure it’s not the first time Paul’s gotten chewed out for putting his hand where it didn’t belong.”

  “Men!” pronounced Miss Honi. “Sugar, if you rounded up all the ones who pulled that on me, the line would stretch all the way from here to Tulsa.” She chuckled to herself. “I remember this one time, back in the day, one of the customers followed me outside after my show. Tried to kiss me, and when I wouldn’t let him, he wrestled me to the ground right there in the parking lot. Must’ve figured I owed him for the twenty he’d tipped me.”

  Lindsay said in a shocked voice, “You never told me about that!”

  “What happened?” Kerrie Ann asked, wanting to know how the story ended. Through the years, she’d found herself in similarly compromising positions, so she knew it was sometimes best just to roll over and play dead. But somehow she couldn’t see Miss Honi doing that.

  She knew she’d guessed right when Miss Honi said, “When he dropped his trousers, I took one look and started to laugh—couldn’t help myself. So I says to him, ‘You’re gonna rape me with that?’”

  “You didn’t!” Lindsay gasped.

  “Believe it,” she said, and Kerrie Ann didn’t doubt it. The way Miss Honi had handled the creep at the party had shown her what the old lady was made of: There was a core of titanium beneath that candy-coated exterior. “It worked, too. His you-know-what shriveled up on the spot, and he slunk off like a whupped dog. I suppose I could’ve just as easily gotten myself killed—though if he’d had a gun, it woulda been the only heat he was packing.”

  Kerrie Ann burst out laughing, and after a valiant effort to restrain herself, Lindsay joined in. It acted as a pressure valve, releasing some of the tension that had built up.

  They arrived back in Blue Moon Bay shortly before midnight. As Kerrie Ann drove along the road to the house, the darkness was as vast and deep as the ocean she could hear murmuring in the distance, the only thing alleviating it was the flash of feral eyes in the underbrush, reflecting the glare of her headlights. Even the stars were obscured; all she could make out were the dark shapes of trees and the house in the distance.

  Kerrie Ann knew she couldn’t put off much longer telling Lindsay the real reason she’d come. The longer she waited, the worse it would look; Lindsay would feel duped. But it was late, and they were tired, and after the incident at the party, it might be best to wait until morning. She was still debating the matter when she pulled up in front of the house.

  Before long they were settled in her sister’s room with the lights out, Lindsay in her antique pencil-post bed and Kerrie Ann in the daybed by the window. Lindsay had given her a flannel granny gown to wear—the shorty pajamas Kerrie Ann had brought were too flimsy for this climate—and though it was hardly her style, she was grateful for its warmth as she burrowed under the covers. But sleep wouldn’t come; she was still too wired from the day’s events and plagued by worries about the future. She knew what she had to do.

  “Lindsay, are you awake?” she called softly.

  “Mmm?” Lindsay murmured groggily.

  “Um, there’s something you should know.”

  “What?”

  “When we were talking before, back at the shop, about families and stuff, I didn’t tell you that I—” She broke off, reluctant to blow whatever goodwill she might still have left.

  “I’m listening,” Lindsay coaxed.

  Kerrie Ann closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I have a daughter. Her name’s Bella. She’s six.”

  There was a rustle of covers, and when she opened her eyes, she could see Lindsay sitting up in bed, a pale shape in her ruffled nightgown, framed by the dark wood of the headboard. “Why didn’t you say something?” If she’d been sleepy a moment before, she was wide awake now.

  “I was afraid you’d judge me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I wasn’t a very good mom. Don’t get me wrong—I love my daughter more than anything. But I … I messed up.” Kerrie Ann held herself clenched against the tears that threatened. “I won’t go into all the gruesome details. Let’s just say I was into drugs. It got so bad toward the end, I pretty much checked out—even on my own kid.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Foster care. I lost custody of her six months ago after the cops raided my place.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” said Lindsay in a soft, faraway voice, as if remembering the day she and Kerrie Ann had been taken away under similar circumstances.

  “You have no idea.” Just talking about it made her feel sick to her stomach. “I was so scared. Mad as hell, too. But I don’t blame them now—they were just doing their job. A good thing, too. It forced me to face what I’d become. That very day, I checked into rehab.”

  “I see.” There was a beat of silence as Lindsay absorbed this new and disturbing piece of information. Finally she asked, “What about her father? Where is he?”

  “Who knows? Jeremiah’s been out of the picture for years. He left when she was a baby.” Kerrie Ann fingered the heart pendant on her necklace, wondering for the umpteenth time where he was now. She didn’t even know if he was dead or alive. “So you see, I have only myself to blame. Guess I’m like our mother in more ways than one.”

  “You can’t compare yourself to her. She never gave a damn about us.”

  “What does it matter if the end result is the same?”

  Lindsay leaned forward, asking, “The real question is, where do you go from here?”

  “Believe me, I’m doing everything I can to get her back. I hired a lawyer, and I go to twelve-step meetings—just got my six-month chip. Plus I’ve been working hard to save up for my own place, something near a good school. But it hasn’t been easy, you know?”

  “Well, it sounds like you’re doing all the right things.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not enough. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

  Her sister replied guardedly, “If it’s money you need, I’ll give you what I can, of course. But I’m afraid I don’t have much.”

  Kerrie Ann bolted upright in bed. “You think I came to hit you up for a loan?” But why wouldn’t Lindsay assume that? She didn’t know her from Adam, and Kerrie Ann hadn’t exactly demonstrated herself to be the kind of person who was above such things. She was quick to assure her sister, “I don’t want your money!” Though what she was about to ask was an even bigger favor. Finally she bit the bullet and came out with it. “Listen, the thing is, I was told I’d stand a better chance in court if I had at least one family member as backup. I, um, was hoping that person could be you.”

  When Lindsay didn’t answer right away, she hastened to add, “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I won’t blame you if you say no. I can’t even promise I’ll be on my best behavior all the time. I’ll try, but sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own.” As Lindsay had already witnessed tonight. “Just think about it. That’s all I ask.”

  The ensuing silence rippled like water from a flung stone. Kerrie Ann remained bolt upright, wide-eyed even in her exhaustion, her heart thudding. Finally Lindsay’s tired-sounding voice came floating toward her, “Let me sleep on it, okay?”

  It wasn’t the response Kerrie Ann had hoped for, but it wasn’t what she’d dreaded, either. She lowered herself onto her back, staring up at the shadows scudding across the ceiling from the wind blowing through the branches of the tree outside. “Yeah, sure,” she replied softly. “Well, good night.”

  No response. After a minute or so came the soft sound of snoring.

  The following morning, when Kerrie Ann awoke, her head was throbbing as if she’d gotten hammered the night before. She saw that Lindsay’s bed was made, Lindsay nowhere in sight, and wondered how long her sister had been up. She staggered into the bathroom to down some aspiri
n before she jumped in the shower. Twenty minutes later, dressed and made up, she wandered into the kitchen, where Miss Honi, in a flowered kimono, was cracking eggs into a bowl. Lindsay, in a track suit, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her cheeks ruddy as if from the outdoors, was grinding beans for coffee, a sound that went through Kerrie Ann’s head like a chainsaw.

  “Morning,” she croaked.

  “Morning, sugar! Beautiful day, ain’t it?” chirped Miss Honi, though a peek out the window showed only cloudy skies.

  “Sleep well?” Lindsay turned to look over her shoulder.

  “Like a log. I didn’t hear you get up.” Kerrie Ann yawned.

  “I’m an early riser, so you’d better get used to it.”

  Kerrie Ann wondered what her sister meant by that. Was it an offhand comment, or had Lindsay decided to let her stay? “How early is early?” she asked, trying to play it cool.

  “I’m usually up before dawn.” Lindsay dumped the ground beans into the coffeemaker and filled the canister with water. “There’s a path along the cliffs where I go running, and this time of day I usually have it all to myself.” She paused, smiling to herself. “For me, it’s like … I don’t know … like being in church. Except for the ocean—it always lets you know it’s there.” Her smile gave way to a troubled expression as she gazed out the window at the rugged, windswept landscape. Kerrie Ann wondered if she was thinking about what she would lose if those fat cats she was up against got their way. Obviously this place was more to her than just a roof over her head.

  “You’re way more ambitious than me,” she said. “I’d sleep till noon if I could get away with it. The only thing that gets me out of bed is the thought of that first cup of coffee.”

  “Coming right up.” Lindsay switched on the coffeemaker. Moments later came its reassuring gurgle, and the fragrant smell of brewing coffee filled the air.

  The kitchen, like the rest of the house, dated back to an earlier era. The cabinets were of some dark wood made even darker by years of use. The tile counters were chipped in spots, the avocado refrigerator and stove the kind that had gone out of fashion along with gas-guzzling cars and Farrah Fawcett hairstyles. In one corner, by the window that looked out over the yard, was a breakfast nook with built-in benches and a square wooden table. The table was set for three, with quilted place mats, stoneware plates and cutlery, a butter dish and a pot of jam.

  Lindsay showed her where the mugs were, and after Kerrie Ann had poured herself a cup of coffee, she hovered in the background, uncertain whether to pitch in. Watching Lindsay and Miss Honi move about the kitchen, weaving around each other in the confined space with the practiced ease of a choreographed dance number, she felt like the proverbial fifth wheel. Which made her even more aware of her uncertain status.

  She’d finished her first cup and was refilling her mug when an acrid odor drew her attention to the stove—something was burning. Miss Honi grabbed a pot holder, snatching the smoking skillet off the burner. “That’s the second time in less than a week,” she pronounced with disgust as she scraped the burned eggs into the sink and switched on the garbage disposal. “Lord, you’d think a grown person could fix scrambled eggs without burning them.” She turned to Kerrie Ann with an apologetic look. “Sorry, hon, but you should know up front I ain’t much of a cook.” She glanced beseechingly at Lindsay.

  “Don’t look at me,” Lindsay said with a laugh. “I’m good at making coffee, and I can boil an egg. That’s about it.”

  Kerrie Ann seized the opportunity to make herself useful. “There’s a trick to it. I’ll show you,” she said, reaching for the egg carton and cracking half a dozen more eggs into the bowl. She whisked them together with practiced ease, asking, “Do you have any cream?”

  “Cream?” echoed Lindsay, eyeing her dubiously while Miss Honi went to fetch some.

  “Just a dollop. You’ll see.” Kerrie Ann dribbled some into the beaten eggs, whisking all the while, then threw in salt and pepper and a handful of dried herbs from the spice rack. When the skillet was scoured and sizzling with butter, she poured in the eggs, and turned down the flame on the burner. “You cook them at a low temperature without stirring until they start to set. Then very gently, you fold them.” When the eggs were the consistency of runny pudding, she used the spatula to nudge them into a heap. She did this several more times, then quickly removed the skillet from the heat and scraped the scrambled eggs, loose and creamy, onto the plates Miss Honi had set out, pronouncing, “Voilà.”

  Lindsay and Miss Honi stared at her as if she’d performed a magic trick. “Where did you learn to do that?” asked Lindsay.

  “I worked in a French restaurant once,” Kerrie Ann told them. “The owner, who was also the chef, had this rule that everyone on the line, from the prep station on up, had to know how to do the basics. He used to say that if you could cook eggs, you could cook anything.”

  “Well, you learned your lesson well,” commented Lindsay when they were seated at the table, digging into their food. “These are the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever eaten.”

  Kerrie Ann felt herself blush. Usually when she was the center of attention, it was for all the wrong reasons. But she was glad she’d scored some points today. Maybe Lindsay would see that she could be of some use around here.

  Kerrie Ann ate quickly, shoveling in her food. The night before she’d barely touched the meal—no wonder, with that creep feeling her up under the table—but this morning her appetite had come roaring back. In addition to the eggs, she put away four strips of bacon and two toasted English muffins before her stomach finally protested.

  As soon as the table was cleared and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, it was time for Lindsay and Miss Honi to leave for work. Kerrie Ann drove them into town, to the service station where Lindsay’s Volvo was ready for pickup. She felt a fresh surge of anxiety watching Lindsay unbuckle her seatbelt and reach for the door handle. Lindsay hadn’t yet said whether or not she could stay. Either she was still thinking it over or she was waiting for the right moment to break it to her that the answer was no. Probably the latter.

  Kerrie Ann was wondering if she ought to head back to the house and pack her bag when Lindsay suggested casually, “Listen, why don’t you come to work with us today? I’m sure we can find something for you to do. Have you ever worked in a bookstore?”

  “No, but I could learn.” Kerrie Ann injected just enough enthusiasm into her voice, not wanting to appear too eager—or, worse, desperate.

  “‘Course you can.” Miss Honi beamed at her.

  “Good. It’s settled, then.” Lindsay gave Kerrie Ann a small smile as she climbed out of the car. Kerrie Ann sensed that she wasn’t entirely forgiven for last night, but at least she was being given a chance to redeem herself. She was determined not to blow it.

  At the book café, she was given the job of stocking shelves. Hardly a challenge, but at least she wouldn’t have an opportunity to screw up. She’d just finished sorting the various books into alphabetical order when she was approached by a stout, gray-haired matron. “Excuse me,” the woman said. “I was wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for a particular book, and I don’t see it.”

  “Um, sure.” Nervously Kerrie Ann glanced about in search of her sister, who was nowhere in sight. “What’s the title?” Maybe she could handle this without having to call on Lindsay. If so, wouldn’t that prove to her sister that she could be useful here as well?

  “Horace, by George Sand,” answered the woman.

  “Horace who?”

  “Horace is the title, dear. The author is George Sand.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Actually, it’s a her.”

  “Oh, she must be one of the newer authors. Who can keep track of them all?”

  Kerrie Ann spoke with the air of someone who read so many books, she couldn’t possibly keep them all straight. She didn’t realize her mistake until the woman replied, “Actually, if you have it, it would be in th
e Classics section. But please don’t trouble yourself. I can find someone else to help me.” She regarded Kerrie Ann with the kind but pitying expression one might bestow on a mentally handicapped person before drifting off.

  Kerrie Ann felt as humiliated as she used to in school whenever she’d been called on in class and hadn’t known the answer. Stupid, stupid, stupid … She ducked her head and crammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans so she wouldn’t give in to the impulse to send something flying—a book, for instance. When she glanced up, she saw her sister at the other end of the aisle, conferring with the woman. The woman pointed her out and smiled, saying something to Lindsay that made her smile as well. Were they making fun of her?

  “Hey, you okay?”

  She looked up to find Ollie standing before her, and she just as quickly dropped her gaze so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she mumbled.

  She felt the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up again, it was only to fall into the warm pool of Ollie’s molten-chocolate eyes. “Don’t worry—it won’t last.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever’s bugging you. Whenever I’m bummed about something, I always tell myself, ‘You won’t feel this way forever.’ Usually it works.” He winked at her. “If it doesn’t, don’t worry; I have the cure.”

  She caught his meaning, and a tiny smile surfaced. “One with about a billion calories in it, I bet.”

  “You guessed right,” he said with a laugh. “Listen, you wouldn’t happen to know how to operate a commercial espresso maker, by any chance? Because I could use a hand in the café.”

  She felt her spirits lift incrementally. “I worked in a Starbucks once. I think I can handle it.”

  He flashed her a grin, and she decided that he was really quite cute in an offbeat sort of way. Today’s outfit was black jeans, a vintage striped blazer over a purple Hard Rock Café T-shirt, and his signature orange sneakers. His black hair bristled like a thick, furry pelt. “In that case, you’re hired. In a manner of speaking, that is—I’m afraid I can only pay you in tips.”