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His mouth curved into a very male, very predatory smile. “I don't.”

“Then I don't think you're moving too fast at all.”

V
iolet woke up early Tuesday morning with a sense of doom but also determined to get back to work. Her jaw still hurt, but not as much as it had. As long as she avoided gasping or laughing too much, she would be fine. As for Cliff—she couldn't hide from him forever. She wanted to get back to her life, and if she had to face him to do that, so be it.

The bruises were getting better. They were less painful, although the color palette wasn't any more subtle than it had been. She would hope for a makeup miracle to conceal the biggest one on her cheek.

She was also going to have to return to her own apartment. She couldn't continue to stay in Beth and Marshall's guest room. Although the thought of being alone at her place made her stomach hurt, she would simply have to suck it up and face her fears. She'd survived this kind of thing before, and she would again.

After showering and dressing, she went downstairs to pour
some coffee. Marshall was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, talking on his cell phone. She smiled and waved, then quietly got a mug from the cupboard. Before she could pour her coffee and duck out to give him some privacy for his call, he hung up.

“You're up early,” he said. “Sleeping okay?”

“I'm doing great. The room and bed are so comfortable.” She walked to the refrigerator and collected the hazelnut coffee creamer. “I'm going back to work today.”

“You up to that?”

“Physically, I'm much better. I know Jenna won't let me overwork myself, so I'll be fine. If nothing else, I need to get back into the world.” She touched her bare cheek. “Assuming I don't frighten little children with my bruise.”

Marshall nodded. “I'm sure routine will help. By the way…” He held up his cell phone. “I've been talking to a friend of mine in the police department.”

She glanced at the clock. It was barely after six. “Your friend gets up early.”

“He works nights. He's been doing some digging and has confirmed what we all suspected. You're not the first woman Cliff has hurt.”

She wasn't surprised to hear that. “I don't suppose that's going to keep him in jail, is it?”

“Sorry, no.” Marshall hesitated. “But I had a little talk with Cliff yesterday. I explained that it would be in his best interest to leave town. He's going to move back to Chicago. His company happened to have an opening there, so he should be gone in the next week or so.”

She stared at him, not sure what to say. Gratitude and relief rushed through her. Cliff would be leaving. She would be safe.

She supposed she should ask what Marshall had said, or
what strings he'd pulled. For all she knew, he had threatened Cliff. But she couldn't bring herself to care.

Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You're welcome.” He crossed to her, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead.

She leaned into him, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a father. “No one's ever taken care of me before,” she admitted.

“Then you're going to have to get used to it, because we're not going anywhere. And neither are you. Don't take this information as a hint you should move out. Beth and I like having you around.”

“I need to get back to my own life.”

“Maybe, but not today. Oh, and I'll be following up with Cliff to make sure he really does move.”

She nodded because there was too much emotion for her to speak.

Marshall set down his coffee and excused himself to finish getting ready for work. Violet sank down at the kitchen table, holding her mug in both hands.

Free, she thought. She was free, or she would be when Cliff was really gone.

Beth shuffled into the kitchen. Her blond hair was rumpled, her body covered in a pink fuzzy robe. Her hostess made it to the coffee, poured a mug and then drank deeply. When she'd swallowed, she looked up and wrinkled her nose.

“You're not even wearing makeup and you're beautiful. Do you know how depressing that is for me?”

Violet laughed, then pressed her hand to her side. “Ignoring the honking big bruise on my face.”

“That will fade. My wrinkles won't.”

“Your wrinkles are only in your imagination.”

Beth smiled. “I love it when you flatter me.” She crossed to the table and sat across from Violet. “Marshall told me the good news. You must be relieved.”

“I am. I've been so scared he would come after me again.”

“Marshall would be happy to fix you up with a nice little gun and some training on how to use it.”

“I'm not exactly a weapons kind of girl.”

Beth didn't look convinced. “If you'd had a gun when Cliff had first hit you?”

“He'd be dead now.” Violet knew that was more than a possibility. Probably why she shouldn't be trusted with a gun.

“I'm going back to work today,” she said, changing the subject. “And moving back to my own apartment.”

Beth sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that. We would love you to stay longer. At least until we know he's gone.”

“I'd love it, too, but I'm concerned that if I don't get back to my life, the fear will win. I need to stay strong.” For a lot of reasons Beth would never understand. “Besides, Cliff isn't going to hurt me after talking to Marshall.” Something she felt in her gut. Not that she wouldn't sleep better when he was several states away.

“You're very brave,” Beth told her.

“There's nothing to admire.” On the contrary. She had plenty to be ashamed about.

“You're wrong, Violet. As you get older, you'll see that.”

“Maybe.”

“There's nothing I can do to convince you to stay?” Beth asked.

“Sorry. No.”

“All my girls leave me. All right. I'll survive. It's the cycle of life and all that.”

Violet stared at her, unable to get past the first part of what Beth had said.
All my girls leave me.
As if she were part of the family.

“And when you start dating again, you'll have to bring your young man around.”

“I don't see a lot of dating in my future,” Violet told her.

“I know it seems that way now, but you'll heal and then you'll get interested in someone.”

Unlikely, Violet thought. She was tired of getting burned. “If the impossible happens, I'll be sure to do a background check.”

“That's my girl.”

 

Violet was at her apartment by nine that morning. She wanted to take back the few things Beth had collected for her, and to change into something suitable for work. As she stepped inside, she braced herself for the memories.

They were there, lunging out at her without a hint of subtlety. She could see everything that had happened, but this time as if from an aerial camera. Different perspective, she thought, willing herself not to flinch at the memory of Cliff's fist slamming into her face.

She ignored the instant replay and crossed to the kitchen. All traces of the meal were gone, the dishes were washed and put away. She couldn't see a hint of blood on the floor. No doubt Beth's doing, she thought, grateful to the other woman for everything. Beth had taken Violet's key, saying she wanted to get her some of her own clothing. Obviously, she'd done a lot more.

After changing into black pants and a long-sleeved blouse, she checked her makeup in the mirror. If the light was right
and no one was looking, the bruise was fairly invisible. That was a plus.

Someone knocked on her front door.

Violet froze, then willed herself to relax. She couldn't jump at every sound. But just to be sure, she called out, asking who was there, before opening the door.

“Your neighbor,” a familiar voice answered.

She crossed the small living room and opened the door to find her elderly friend waiting in the hall.

“Mr. McAllister,” she said, smiling at him.

“Beth Stevens called to say you were coming back,” the old man said as he hobbled over her threshold. “I thought I'd welcome you personally and see how you're feeling.”

“Better,” she admitted. “I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life.”

The old man shrugged. “You looked after Buster when I had to go into the hospital last fall. It was a real load off my mind, knowing he was taken care of. Besides, I still believe a man has a responsibility to protect the women in his life. I only wish I were twenty years younger, so I could have beaten the shit out of your young man.” He paused, then blushed a little. “Pardon my French.”

She smiled. “He's not my young man anymore, Mr. McAllister. I swear. You don't have to worry. I'm not taking him back.”

Mr. McAllister hugged her. “You're a good girl, Violet. You'll pick better next time.”

Why did everyone assume she would ever want to be with another man?

“I want to thank you,” she said. “May I make you dinner?”

“I'd like that.” His eyes brightened with humor. “As long
as you understand we're just friends. I've started seeing Mrs. Brighten on the third floor.”

She laughed, then pressed her hand to her jaw. “I promise I won't hit on you.”

He grinned. “You can hit on me a little.”

“A little then.” She raised herself onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you again.”

“You're welcome, Violet. You take care.”

 

Violet arrived at work a little before nine-thirty. Jenna's car was already there. Violet hadn't warned her boss she would be in today, mostly because she wasn't sure she was up to a full day's work. It might take a while for her to get her stamina back. She'd also avoided calling because she was a little nervous about seeing Jenna.

She let herself in the back and set her purse on the shelf, next to Jenna's, then walked into the store. Jenna was attaching labels to brown bags filled with ingredients.

“Want any help?” she asked.

Jenna looked up, gasped, dropped the labels and came running.

“You're here,” she said, hugging her. “How are you? Should you be back? Is it too soon?”

Violet held out her hands in the shape of a T. “I'll take those questions in groups of twenty.”

Jenna laughed. “I'm so happy to see you. You look good.”

Violet touched her bruised cheek. “Not yet, but I'm healing. I want to get back to work. I'm not sure if I can put in a full day, but I'd like to try.”

“You're welcome to stay as long as you want. I've missed you desperately. Not only for your sparkling conversation, but I've had to place orders, and you know that's not my fa
vorite thing. I might have accidentally ordered an extra two hundred spatulas. We'll find out Thursday.”

Violet groaned. “I hope you're kidding.”

“I am. Sort of.”

“I'm glad you missed me.”

“I was desperate.”

Violet tried to smile and found herself with burning eyes again. “I'm sorry I was stupid,” she whispered.

“You weren't.”

“I was. I was taken in by a fancy suit and a guy who knew how to order wine. Amateur stuff. I should know better.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Jenna told her.

“My mistake landed me in the hospital. Did your dad tell you what he found out about Cliff?”

When Jenna shook her head, Violet filled her in on Cliff's background and how he would soon be moving.

“That's great,” Jenna breathed.

“It's going to make sleeping at night easier.”

“He would never find you at my parents' house.”

“True, but I can't live there forever. In fact I moved out this morning. I'm back at my apartment.”

Jenna looked concerned. “So soon. Are you sure?”

“I need to get back to my life. Which includes doing work around here. Why don't you tell me what's been going on?”

Jenna brought her up-to-date on the various classes, the new customers and how inventory had or hadn't been managed. She made a mental note to personally thank Tiffany and Kayla for picking up the slack.

“How are things otherwise?” she asked Jenna. “Last I heard, you and Ellington were fighting. Is that any better?”

Jenna's face flushed, and unlike Mr. McAllister, she hadn't said a bad word. Jenna's expression was a combination of guilty, smug and pleased.

Violet stared at her. “You slept with him.”

“Maybe.”

“You did. When did this happen? How was it? How do you feel?”

“Two days ago, fabulous and embarrassingly happy. I invited him over so I could explain why I'd had the freak-out. We talked and then one thing led to the other.” She sighed. “It was great. He stayed the night. He had to leave early to get home before Isaiah woke up, then he called me about fifteen times.” She pointed to a big bouquet of flowers. “Those were delivered yesterday and we're having dinner tomorrow.”

“You're floating.”

“I'm trying to keep my feet on the ground, but it's hard.” She lowered her voice. “He's really nice.”

“I'm glad.” Violet meant it. One of them should have a successful love life.

 

Jenna was surprised when her father walked into her store later that week. It was early afternoon and there were only a few customers.

“You're an unexpected treat,” she said, crossing to him.

“I thought I'd come by and see how things were working out.” He glanced around the space. “Very nice. You're busy?”

“Most of the time. We're doing several cooking classes a week. They're turning out to be popular. We've also been selling a lot of food. Supplies for the recipes we make in the class.”

She doubted hearing those details was why he'd stopped by. “If you're here thinking you can pick up something for Mom's birthday next month, I can't help. She's pretty much bought everything she already wants.”