Between a Book and a Hard Place (3 page)

“A reasonable request that I feel the city council should approve.” Boone shot a glance at the mayor.

Egger nodded and said, “Any other questions for our benefactor?”

The name
Benedict
had finally clicked in my brain, and I raised my hand.

The mayor pointed at me, and I stood. I really didn't want to know the answer, but I forced myself
to ask, “Mr. Benedict, you mentioned that your wife told you about our town's need for a library. Is she from Shadow Bend?”

“Not originally, but she lived here for many years.” His eyes twinkled.

“May I ask your wife's name?” My heart was pounding, and I could barely breathe.

“How about if I just introduce her to everyone?” Jett winked at me. “Although most of you already know her.” He held out his hand, and a voluptuous blonde walked out from behind a portable whiteboard. He put his arm around her slim waist and said, “It's my pleasure to bring your own Yvette Sinclair Benedict back to Shadow Bend.”

The audience was eerily silent as I stared at my mother's beautiful and traitorous face.

One of my best friends, along with a man who claimed to love me, had ambushed me. Mom was back in town, flaunting a new husband and his money. And I had a bad feeling that with Hurricane Yvette around, Shadow Bend would need to put up its storm shutters and take cover.

J
ett Benedict's little bombshell knocked me for such a loop that it took several seconds before I was able to put all the pieces together. When I did, I narrowed my eyes and glanced between Noah and Boone. Noah's expression was hard to read, but Boone, my up until now BFF, lifted one shoulder in an unapologetic shrug.

As I suspected, Boone had known for some time that the library benefactor was my stepfather, and that was why he'd been so insistent that I attend the meeting. My presence hadn't had anything to do with supporting the cause. The whole scheme had been a trap.

Boone was well aware that I would not have agreed to see my mother, and clearly, either Yvette or her loving husband had manipulated my friend into persuading me to come to the city hall. The only mystery was why Yvette would care enough to arrange all this. Considering that since dropping me on Gran's front porch, she'd made virtually no effort to be a part of my life, what had changed?

I didn't wait around to find out. Standing, I
hurried down the aisle. I could hear high heels clicking on the hardwood floors behind me, and I doubled my speed. With any luck, I could outrun a fiftysomething woman hindered by her Louboutin stilettos.

City hall was divided into four spaces, half of which was the mayor's elaborately and expensively decorated office. The remainder was shared by a postage-stamp-size reception area, the clerk's tiny cubicle, and the large conference room where the city council met.

Once I made it out of the conference room, I sprinted across the lobby to the building's exit. As I pushed through the frosted glass double doors, I heard my mother calling my name.

Parking could be difficult around the town square, and since the city hall was kitty-corner from my shop, I had left my car in the tiny lot behind the dime store and walked to the meeting. Now I was sorry I hadn't attempted to secure a closer spot.

Thankful that I had on sneakers, I increased my pace. Ignoring the sidewalks, I took the more direct route from the city hall to my store. Surely Yvette couldn't keep up in five-inch heels running across grass.

“Devereaux Sinclair, you wait up for me,” Yvette ordered breathlessly.

She sounded closer. I peeked over my shoulder and saw her closing in on me. Yvette had taken off her shoes and was running barefoot. She really did want to talk to me about something.

I hesitated. Maybe it would be better just to be done with it. Mom was nothing if not persistent. Especially if it was something she'd set her mind on
accomplishing. After all, she'd moved to a new town fresh out of college, had married one of the most eligible bachelors—my dad—and had gone from a virtually penniless nobody to one of the movers and shakers of Shadow Bend.

No!
I wasn't about to give in that easily. Besides, I wanted to speak to my father and grandmother before I dealt with Yvette. My mother had taken more wrong turns in her life than a shopping cart with a wobbly wheel, and I wasn't going to help her with whatever her current mistake might be.

I'd made it across the square and was heading down the alley between my building and the empty shop next door when I felt a hand on my upper arm. The grip was surprisingly strong, and when I tried to shrug it off, the fingernails dug into my flesh.

“Got you!” Yvette's triumphant voice echoed in my ear. “Now, let's talk.”

I allowed her to lead me by the arm down the alley and into the parking lot, wondering why it was that when people decide to suck the life out of you, they don't take some fat along with it.

As we emerged from the dark passageway, we both blinked. After a body had been dumped behind my store, on the advice of the police chief I had installed halogen floodlights above the back entrance of the business. Even though it wasn't dark yet, I had them set to come on when the place closed, so their sudden brightness blinded me, and it took several seconds to focus.

I slowly turned and examined my mother. Yvette hadn't changed much since the last time I'd seen her. She was still model thin, her hair was still thick and a rich shade of honey blond, and if she had any
wrinkles, I couldn't find them. Was her smooth skin a result of a face-lift or good genes? I certainly hoped it was the latter, since I'd never be able to afford cosmetic surgery.

While I had been inspecting my mother, she'd been returning the favor. Frowning, she rubbed my ponytail between her fingers and said, “Why are you wearing your hair like this? Women pay a fortune to get the cinnamon gold color you have naturally. And scraping it back instead of playing up one of your major assets is just stupid.”

“Good to see you, too, Mom.” I crossed my arms, ignoring her criticism.

Yvette had never been happy with my appearance. Even back in my teenage days, when I put a lot more effort into looking good, she'd been dissatisfied with my curvier figure and less than classically beautiful features. When she'd left me at Gran's, it had been a relief to stop trying to be the popular daughter my mother wanted.

“You know, Dev”—Mom leaned in as if she were about to reveal the secret of the century—“life is an unending battle full of disappointments and trials, but if you keep trying, you
can
finally find a hairdresser you like.”

“My financial plan doesn't allow for the kind of stylist who knows how to handle the thickness and curls.” I moved out of her reach.

Yvette waved away my words. “A budget is just a way to go broke on a schedule.”

“Nevertheless.” I knew it was senseless to argue. Any similarity between Mom's reality and mine had always been solely coincidental. “A good hairstylist is a luxury I've had to forgo since I no longer make the big bucks.”

“I heard about your previous job.” Yvette pursed her lips. “It was certainly lucky that you quit before Stramp was arrested.”

I wondered how she knew about that. Had she been keeping tabs on me the whole time, or when she'd found out she'd be coming to Shadow Bend, had she just done a Google search? The information would be easy enough to find. Ronald Stramp, the CEO of Stramp Investments, had been prosecuted for stealing investors' life savings.

A lot of people thought Stramp's employees were as guilty as their boss. Having left several months before he was exposed had not spared me from the accusations or the venom. And it hadn't helped that my testimony during his trial hadn't resulted in his conviction.

My silence seemed to annoy Yvette, and she snapped, “Being such a dutiful granddaughter certainly paid off for you. I wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice a six-figure salary to take care of Birdie.”

“Of course you wouldn't.” I sniffed. “You wouldn't even give up your social standing to stick by your husband or take care of your teenage daughter.”

“That was different.” Yvette dismissed her inexcusable behavior as if she'd tried to check out eleven items in the ten-or-fewer aisle rather than abandoned her only child and never looked back. “I knew Birdie would take good care of you and that in the long run, it would be better for both of us if I were able to make a fresh start while I was still young enough to marry well again. Kern wasn't the angel you thought he was.”

“How did that remarrying-well-thing work out
for you?” I asked, cringing at her insinuation about my father's character. “What number husband is Jett?”

Ignoring my question, she put a finger under my chin and tilted my head. Then murmuring half under her breath, she said, “Why don't you do anything to emphasize your gorgeous eyes? Do you realize people wear aquamarine contacts to get that color? What I could have done with your hair and eyes. I'd be married to Steven Spielberg by now.”

“Doesn't he already have a wife?” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “I'm pretty sure Kate Capshaw is still Mrs. Spielberg.”

“That was just an example.” Yvette seemed suddenly to realize where our conversation had led her and added quickly, “Of course, I love Jett to death and am thrilled that we're together.”

“Of course.” Tired of rehashing the past, I walked toward my car. “Now that we've reminisced and caught up on our lives, why did you chase me all the way across the square to talk to me?”

“Because I'm your mother and I haven't seen you in twelve years.” Yvette clasped both her hands to her chest, her bottom lip trembling.

For a split second, I was thrown by her hurt expression. But then I remembered that she had been the star of our local theater guild. Her best role had been Lilly Dillon when the group had put on
The Grifters
. It wasn't until years later that I realized it probably hadn't taken much acting ability for Mom to play the inattentive, callous mother and desperate con woman.

“Thirteen years, Mom.” I dug out my keys and
pressed the button to unlock my BMW. “You haven't seen me in thirteen years.”

“Details.” Yvette pouted. “But now that I'm in town, we can spend some quality time together.” She clapped her hands together. “I know. We can go shopping.” She eyed my polo shirt, which bore the dime store logo, and my Walmart jeans. “I'll buy you some new clothes. Something pretty so you can close the deal and marry Noah Underwood.” She smirked. “Won't that just chap Nadine's ass?”

Ah.
That explained a lot. Now I knew why she wanted to see me. She must have a mole in town. Someone who kept her informed about what was happening in Shadow Bend. When I'd started dating Noah, she must have realized that if I married him, I'd finally be the daughter she'd always wanted—not to mention, getting one up on her archrival, Nadine.

The Underwoods and the Sinclairs were two of the five founding families of Shadow Bend, which made socializing with one another inevitable. Before my father's conviction, Nadine and Yvette had competed for the position of the town's belle of the ball. Both of the women craved attention like a smoker jonesing for his next cigarette. They each vied for the limelight and saw the other as an obstacle in their path to the top. When Dad went to jail, Nadine had claimed the victory. Now Mom was back for a rematch.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Opening the door to the Z4, I slid inside and quickly closed it in Yvette's face. When I turned on the engine, I lowered the window and added, “I don't need any new clothes. I don't need help landing Noah. And I don't need you in my life.”

I backed up, and as I pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Yvette had a strange look on her face. I would have expected anger, or maybe even a little regret. Instead, her expression was speculative. Like she was already planning her next move.

Shuddering at the thought of Nadine and Yvette duking it out over Noah and me, I started home. If those two conniving women got involved, any chance that I might end up having a happily-ever-after with Noah was mighty slim. And with Jake's ex occupying his time, that relationship didn't seem too promising, either.

Maybe I shouldn't have fixed Ronni up with Cooper McCall. The new fire chief was hot, and he'd definitely shown some interest in getting to know me better. But since I was already having difficulty juggling two guys, I had done the right thing and arranged a blind date for him and Ronni. Now I had a bit of seller's remorse.

I pushed aside my man troubles as I turned into our long driveway. We lived on the ten remaining acres of the property my ancestors had settled in the eighteen sixties. A few premature deaths, some infertility, several families with only children, and everyone else moving away meant that Dad, Gran, and I were the last Sinclairs in Shadow Bend.

Fifteen years ago, when my grandfather died and my father showed no interest in farming, Gran had started to sell off the land surrounding the old homestead to Tony Del Vecchio. She used the money to pay the taxes and supplement her meager social security. Then, when Dad went to prison and I arrived on her doorstep, she sold off even more to provide for me.

Inch by inch, my heritage had vanished before I was old enough to realize what it meant. Now I cherished the acreage we had left.

Passing the duck pond, I slowed to gaze at my favorite spot. When Dad had gotten out of jail, this was where we'd had his welcome-home party. Smiling, I remembered the warm reception he'd received from our friends. I'd been especially touched that his old pal Chief Kincaid had welcomed him back as if he'd never been convicted of a crime.

I also loved our little orchard. The fall apples wouldn't be ready for another couple of weeks, but once they were, Gran would make her famous apple butter from the crisp and tart Jonathans.

As I drove the final quarter mile through the white fir and blue spruce lining either side of the lane, instead of the usual feeling of peace that coming home typically brought to me, tension crawled across my shoulders. How would I break the news to Gran and Dad that Yvette was in Shadow Bend? Birdie would want to shoot her, but I wasn't sure how my father would react.

Would her being in town remind him of the bad times? When he was on trial, she'd refused to come to the courtroom to support him. Would he be upset that she was here with another man? If he still loved her, Jett's presence would hurt like hell. Would Dad try to win her back?

Yvette was no stranger to divorce. So already having a husband wouldn't be much of an impediment. And if Dad and Mom did get back together, how would it be with her around all the time?

•   •   •

I found my father and grandmother in the living room. Before Dad's return, I would have sworn that Birdie was more of a boilermaker type of gal, but having him home seemed to have calmed her, and they'd grown into the habit of having a bedtime milk shake together.

Another change was Gran's use of the Mondae Siren milk shake glasses she'd collected as a teenager. The horizontal ribs below the four optical bull's-eyes were unique, and although I had begged to drink from them, they had always been for display only.