Someone Like You

Page 12

“She’s pretty, too.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
She laughed again. “You’re not a good liar, Mac. Don’t try to make your living playing poker.”
“Never crossed my mind.”
JILL RETURNED HOME at the end of day two in a slightly better mood than at the end of day one. Tina had not only continued to be pleasant, but she’d actually stayed and worked until nearly four. The only black cloud in her otherwise bright blue sky—except for the lying rat weasel dog and her lack of acceptable employment—was the BMW.
There hadn’t been a scratch on it. Not a dent, not a hint of any contact at all. It still gleamed like a showroom special. She hoped that a couple of days in the local grocery store parking lot would take care of that.
She entered her aunt’s home a little after five. “It’s me,” she called.
Bev came out of the kitchen to greet her. “Better?” she asked.
“Not half-bad. Except for being insulted by Pam Whitefield.”
“No one likes her, so her opinion doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, I talked to Gracie. She sent me a ficus tree. She said even I shouldn’t be able to kill it.”
“I hope she’s right.”
Bev waited until she’d shrugged out of her jacket be fore leading the way back to the kitchen.
“How was your day?” Jill asked.
“Good. Emily and I had a terrific time. We spent the afternoon at the beach. Oh, speaking of which, you know it’s nearly the Fourth of July.”
“I’d heard a rumor, yes.”
“Mac has to work so Emily will be joining us on our picnic.”
Jill grabbed a diet soda from the refrigerator and popped the top. “Are we having a picnic?”
“Of course. It’s what the holiday is about.”
“Huh, and here I thought it was about celebrating our country’s independence.”
“That, too, but how could we celebrate without a picnic?”
“I’m not complaining. I’m sure it will be fun.” Los Lobos was at its best during holidays of any kind.
“Good. Now read this.” She held out a piece of paper.
Jill grabbed it and read the note twice. “Oh, man. Do I have to?”
“The mayor has graciously invited you to join the pier centennial committee meeting tonight. Don’t you think you should go?”
No. Not even for money. “I’m not going to be here that long. I don’t want to get involved in a project and then have to drop it halfway through.”
Bev opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pouch of marinating chicken. “I’m sure if you keep repeating that, eventually it will sound like the truth.”
“Fine. I don’t want to go. I’ve never been a fan of the pier and the mayor isn’t my favorite person. He’s smarmy and I think he looks up women’s skirts.”
“Have you seen him doing that?”
“No, but he seems like the type.” Jill stomped her foot and felt like a two-year-old. “Jeez, I hate this.” She looked back at the message her aunt had taken. “I’ll go but only if I get two desserts. One before and one after.”
“I’ll even read your cards for you if you’d like.”
Jill took a step back. “I’m not ready to know my future, but thanks for asking.” She glanced down at her slacks. “I need to go change. I hate this.”
“I know, dear, but it’s for the best.”
“That’s what you used to say about going to the dentist.”
“Was I wrong?”
CHAPTER SIX
MOST SIGNIFICANT EVENTS in Los Lobos took place in the community center and the committee for the pier centennial celebration was no exception. Jill experienced a slight case of déjà vu as she pushed open one of the heavy double-glass doors.
She’d attended Girl Scout meetings in this building, had decorated the largest room for various school dances. She’d had her first kiss out on the basketball courts on a rainy afternoon when she’d been seventeen. The boy in question—Kevin Denny—had quickly turned his attentions elsewhere, but to her that first kiss had been a huge deal.
Tonight she was less enthused about stepping into a piece of her past. For one thing, she didn’t want to get assigned actual work involving the celebration. For an other, she dreaded answering questions about why she was back, how she was doing and what she thought would happen in the future. There was also the twenty-eight-and-soon-to-be-divorced syndrome to deal with. Ah, to be home with a good DVD and a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s.
Knowing that her aunt would give her “the look” if she returned early, she stepped into the building and followed the sound of voices to the second meeting doorway on the right. As she walked into the large room and glanced around at too many familiar faces, she felt a slight tickling on the back of her neck. She turned. Mac stood by the coffee urn. His dark gaze settled on her face and he gave her a slow, sexy smile that reminded her that just about twenty-two hours ago, they’d been kissing and she’d been thinking about giving in to a whole lot more.
In the sensible light of almost-twilight, she didn’t know if she should go for a sophisticated I-do-this-sort-of-thing-all-the-time or if running for cover was the better option. Figuring there wasn’t anywhere to go, she walked toward him and accepted the cup of coffee he held out.
“How did you get roped into this?” he asked.
“The mayor’s office called and when I tried to whine my way out of it, Aunt Bev looked stern. I’m easily guilted.”
“Apparently.”
“What’s your excuse?”
“I’m the sheriff. I have to be here.”
“The joys of small-town life.” She glanced around the room. “Quite a turnout. All the small-business owners, the city council and many concerned citizens. With luck there will be more hands than work.”
Mac grinned. “Wishful thinking.”
“I know, but a girl has to have dreams. Is our esteemed mayor here yet?”
Mac put his free hand on her shoulder and pointed with the one holding his coffee cup. She liked how they were sticking together and how he touched her. She liked a lot of things. If Mac was the door prize for at tending the meeting, she would consider this an evening well spent.
She looked where he pointed and saw Los Lobos mayor Franklin Yardley speaking with a young woman she didn’t recognize.
Yardley had been mayor for as long as Jill could remember. Probably fifteen years. He was handsome, as tanned as George Hamilton and too well dressed for a town this small. He wore his gray hair short, in a modified military buzz. His eyes crinkled when he talked, giving the impression of good humor and affability. He had the practiced smile and easy manner of a successful used-car salesman. He’d always made Jill uncomfortable, especially at honors events during high school. Becoming a National Merit Scholar or winning a prize meant getting your picture taken with the mayor. In her opinion, he’d always held the girls a little too tight and she distinctly remembered him patting her butt after she received a scholarship to Stanford.
“Disgusting old man,” she muttered under her breath.
“He’s not that old,” Mac said. “Fifty-two, fifty-three.”
“Whatever his age, he gives me the creeps. Can we sit in the back?”
Mac chuckled. “Sure thing. Are we going to pass notes, too?”
“I’m ignoring the implication I’m acting as if I’m in high school. Sitting up front is the same as volunteering and my goal for tonight is to slip out unnoticed.”
“Jill, honey, is that you?” a loud, female voice called from the doorway.
Jill winced as she turned and saw Pam striding to ward her. “Oh, great. Here’s another opportunity for her to insult me.”
Mac leaned close. “What are you talking about?”
“She came by to see me about a legal thing today and nailed me good.” She plastered a smile on her face and tried to act pleased. “Pam. Hi. So you’re here, too.”
“Of course. The centennial celebration of our be loved pier is going to be an event to remember. The Fourth of July is just a warm-up. We’ve already started a national advertising campaign. We only have six weeks to get things finalized.” Her smile widened. “I’m sure we have something you can help with. Maybe stuffing information folders for the chamber of commerce. I know they need help with that.”
Determined to have a witty comeback this time, she searched her brain as she opened her mouth. Just then Franklin Yardley called the meeting to order.
Pam waggled her fingers and sauntered off.
“Bitch,” Jill said as Mac led her to the back of the room.
“Try to play nice with the other children.”
“You heard what she said.”
“I did. I also know that you’re younger, more successful and a hell of a lot sexier. Did it ever occur to you she’s acting this way because she’s bitter?”
Jill felt her bad mood drain away. “No, but I like it.”
EMILY HELD the deck of cards in her hand. Bev demonstrated how to shuffle and Emily did her best to follow directions.
“Just slide a few in front,” the older woman said with a smile. “It’s easy.”
The cards felt big and awkward, but Emily did as instructed. The cards slid into place.
“Good,” Bev told her. “Let’s try it again.” She winked. “We need a well-shuffled deck so I can beat you this time.”
They were playing Go Fish, which was a little kids’ game, but still fun. Emily shuffled two more times, then dealt out the cards. When one slipped and fell on the floor, Bev didn’t say anything. She was nice that way, Emily thought as she put the card back in place. She never yelled or got mad. She never made Emily feel scared.
“You have other cards,” Emily said as she sorted her cards by numbers. She already had two threes and two fives. That was good. “Cards with pictures and stuff on them.”
“You’re right. I do. My tarot cards.”
“What are they for? Different games?”
“Not exactly. The cards can be fun. People use them at parties. Some people think they’re special—that they can tell what’s going to happen in the future or what happened in the past.”
Knowing the future sounded scary, Emily thought. “Doesn’t everyone already know the past? Weren’t they there when it happened?”
“Sometimes. But they aren’t always clear on the events. A lot of people think tarot is silly.”
“Do you?”
Bev put down her cards and leaned forward. Her long red braid hung over her shoulder and nearly brushed against the table.
“I believe I have a gift. I can see things other people can’t. Like you’re a good reader. You read better than most kids you know. That’s a gift, right?”
Emily nodded.
“Now you being able to read is something people can see. They don’t have to take it on faith. But my gift is different. You can’t see it or touch it. So while I believe, others don’t.”
Emily thought she understood. “Does Jill believe?”
Bev laughed. “An interesting question. My niece is one of my doubters.”
Emily was shocked. “She thinks you’re lying?”
“Not lying, just pretending.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Emily tried to understand. “So the cards tell you what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”
“Not specifically. They give me ideas. Good fortune, bad fortune, that sort of thing. People come to me with questions and I try to help them find answers.”