Now and Always (13 page)

Stop it! Get a grip!
Your problems are bigger than a cup of coffee. Yet as Katie got out of the jeep and slammed the door, her imaginary sense tasted the heavenly brew. She should have parked a mile away from this place and not tortured herself with the smells coming from the local hangout, but she didn't. Head down, she set her mind on her reason for being here. Business.

Mary Hoskins' big, black Lincoln Navigator pulled into an empty spot. Mary. Katie and Mary used to sit in a back booth and drink lattes on a weekly basis BTB (Before The Budget).

Ah, the good old days.

Katie quickened her stride. Utilities bills were due today. As loathsome as the budget was, and getting more so every day, this would be the first time a bill was paid on the due date regardless of the caviar and peachy crackers. Warren's plan worked — even indulging Clara's whim (which the cat enjoyed), with the extra typing making up the deficit. Lattes aside, Katie felt good about the small achievement. She'd prove to Warren that she could stick to a strict regime.

“Katie!”

She froze, recognizing Mary's voice and her intent. She would insist they have a latte and catch up. Katie was already one latte in the red.

She turned with a quick smile. “Mary!” How was she going to explain that she had two lattes yesterday, so today she couldn't have any in order to make up for her reckless spending. It was bad enough that Warren knew her financial muddle; she didn't want the whole town aware of her peccadilloes.

Mary crossed the nearly empty street and approached. “It's been ages. Where have you been keeping yourself lately?”

“Oh, busy. How about you?”

“Always.” Her gaze swept the coffee shop. “Latte? I'm buying.”

She had just said the enchanting words.

“Sure, love one.”

They backtracked the short distance to the shop and within minutes settled into a back booth, lattes ordered.

Mary unwound an expensive looking scarf and laid it on her leather jacket. The scent of imported perfume mingled with the bouquet of roasted coffee beans. Some envied Mary and the perks that marriage to a high-profile attorney brought, but Katie only felt sorry for her. Mary led a lonely life, and her marriage was a highly profitable sham with infidelity only one transgression on her husband's long list of mistakes. As far as Katie knew, Mary wasn't physically abused and from all appearances had grown comfortable with the lifestyle and the material rewards her husband's sins provided.

Coffee arrived. Katie took a sip then leaned back and savored the full-bodied, rich warmth trickling down her throat, glad she didn't have to worry about cheating husbands. But cheating or not, it would be nice to have someone to care for her.
Didn't all women seek that goal?

Sure, but Katie was smarter. She was an eyewitness to the atrocities and pain resulting from the wrong choice. She knew men, and the reason why she remained single was the fact that she had yet to find a man who would be equally yoked. Grandmoms said, “Marry a man of strong faith, and your troubles will be less.” Not trouble free, but less. The older Katie got, the more she understood that, religious fanaticism aside, when God made laws, he didn't speak to hear his head rattle. Warren flashed through Katie's mind. Granted he had an abrupt manner, and at times he didn't appear to share her faith and that concerned her. But they'd barely been reunited. Important stuff like faith and future goals would come up eventually. She would never marry a man who didn't share her faith, but Warren had as a child. The more she was around him, the more she understood that like Grandpops, Warren's bark was worse than his bite.

Mary arranged her cup. “So how're things at the shelter?”

“Good, but busy. Seems like there's never enough time to do it all. I keep hoping someday I'll catch up, but I suppose I'd be bored if that ever happened.”

They chatted about this and that. Cups drained. Mary signaled for two more.

My lucky day!

“What's this I hear about Warren Tate hanging around your place lately?”

Warmth flooded Katie's cheeks, and it wasn't the result of the hot coffee. “Who told you that?”

“Never mind who told me, is it true?” Mary leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity.“What I want to know is how did that man go from a nerd to a Harrison Ford in the years he's been gone?”

Katie shrugged. “He's smart, Mary. Really brilliant in business affairs. He was a Wall Street genius, you knew that?”

“I heard — but then he's always been a brainiac, just not exciting. Somewhere between here and New York something changed.” She leaned forward. “I hear he's quite a financial catch.”

“Really?” Katie had not considered his financial worth. She'd been poor for so long, she saw money as merely a requirement to live. She attached no particular sentiment to a person's bank account. She never had much of one.

Something had changed about Warren. Maybe it did concern money. Somewhere between here and the Big Apple, Warren had developed an aversion to trust. And maybe even to God.

Fresh lattes arrived.

“Did I tell you I've been asked to be a part of Devils Tower festival next year?” Mary tapped a pink package of artificial sweetener into her cup.

“How nice — are you going to accept?”

“I don't know — thinking about it. Working on this year's centennial was fun. Maybe.” She lifted the cup to her glossy lips and drank. Katie's gaze focused on the long, manicured acrylic nails.

“Love your nail polish. What's the color?”

Mary lowered the cup. “I'm-Not-Really-a-Waitress Red.”

“Beg pardon?”

“That's the name of it!” She lowered her hand to study the striking red on each of her nails. “I'm-Not-Really-a-Waitress Red.”

“Nice.”

Minutes flew by as Katie savored the last of her cup. Mary's pink Razr phone rang a funky version of an Aretha Franklin tune. She unsnapped her purse and punched on. “Yes?”

Katie folded a napkin. Should she mention how the shelter was in dire need of donations? Mary had occasionally donated, but Katie hated to put friends on the spot. It didn't seem fair, yet she knew if she mentioned the need, Mary would whip out her checkbook . . .

“No kidding.”

Katie drained the last of her caffeine, pretending oblivion to the personal conversation.

“He did, did he?”

She reached in her purse for lipstick. The colder weather was murder on lips.

“No. No — I said no! I'll be there in a few minutes.” She hit disconnect. “Jerk.” She reached in her purse, took out a pair of designer sunglasses, and slipped them on. “Sorry, Katie. I have to run. We must do this more often.”

“Sure.” Katie half-rose, expecting to follow her to the register. Instead, Mary picked up her oversized handbag and hightailed it out the front door.

When the bell over the door jingled, Katie's gaze froze on the bill lying coiled on the table like a prairie rattler.

Hey Katie! How about a latte? I'm buying
!

Resigned, Katie took a deep
breath and picked up the check for four house lattes. Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed.

As soon as she stepped out on the sidewalk, she spotted Ben headed her direction, his ruddy completion whipped pink by the wind. “My doting fan.”

“Sheriff.” She ignored his tease.

“Buy you a latte?”

The mere thought sickened her. “Thanks, I've had my fill.”

Ben fell into step with her. “Any more strange, bump-in-the-night incidents?”

“Not today.” She hadn't forgiven him for teasing about the flowers. Even if nothing more had happened, she wouldn't tell him. Well, maybe she would, but not now.

He pushed back his ball cap and grinned. She silently read the writing on his sweatshirt:
Bad Cop, No Donut.

“Sorry if I didn't appear to take you seriously the other day. I do. I just can't connect Neil Townsend and roses wadded in a mail box. He might be a jerk, but he's got class. Have you seen the guy on TV?”

She nodded. “I've seen him, and I don't see class. I see an abuser who would wad grenades in a mailbox to disconcert his wife.”

“You cannot wad a grenade.”

“Point taken.”

“You said the flowers didn't have a name on them.”

“They didn't have to, but I'd bet lunch that they were meant for her.”

“Really? Okay, lunch it is.”

“Don't be so smug, O'Keefe. We'll never know who sent those flowers.”

“Oh, we'll know,” he promised as he kept step with her. “I'll make sure that I find the culprit. Hamburgers or meatloaf?”

“Lobster, if I must.”

“For lunch?” He shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain, lady.”

She switched subjects.

“Did I tell you Sweet Tea got out? I think someone left the gate open.”

“One of the women could have forgotten to lock it.”

“They say not.” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

Ben's expression sobered. “Tell you what. I need to bring Fritz some of those fresh bones that he likes. I'll take another look around. I could have missed something earlier, and I can always look into Meg's boyfriend and the other abusers' present situations to see what they've been up to.”

“You're spoiling that dog.”

“He's a good ole mutt.”

Katie spotted Warren's pickup driving past. He didn't look their way. Was he still upset with her over the budget, or did he fail to notice her? She turned back to find Ben watching her.

“There's a guy who's changed since high school.”

Katie agreed. “He's a lot more sophisticated, more outgoing. Being out in the world has definitely added some polish.”

Ben was silent for a minute. “Maybe, but there's nothing wrong with Little Bush. It's always been good enough for me.”

“Me too. At least, I've never left.” Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if she had moved away from her roots, taken a different direction. Would Warren be willing to settle for a down-home girl when he'd met women who were glamorous and confident? He seemed content to be back in town. She sighed. She'd always been too comfortable with her life, never feeling that she needed a man to make her happy.

Now, she wasn't so sure. Maybe a good, strong, protective male was exactly what she needed.

That night during Bible study, Katie decided to tell the women about her situation. If the shelter went under, it would affect them too. She gazed around the small circle, commanding their attention. Clara was missing. She'd attended one Bible study and announced that was enough. She had enough religion to last for a while.

Ruth gave her a shrewd glance. “What's wrong, Katie? You've looked worried lately.”

Had she been that obvious? She didn't want to tell them about the strange things that kept happening, not yet. But they had to know the financial scare. She took a deep breath. “It's about the shelter.”

“What about it?” Meg sat up straighter. “Something's wrong, isn't it — I knew it. Everywhere I go something bad happens — ”

“Nothing's wrong. It's just that money is a little tight. Sometimes there isn't enough to go around. I've asked Warren to help, and he's worked out a budget. I'm trying to stay on it, but it's hard. I seem to be bookkeeping-challenged.”

Janet frowned. “Are you broke?”

“No, at the moment we're hanging on, but it's getting tougher all the time. I've got a little work coming in, enough to keep us afloat for a while. But I feel it's only fair to tell you I might have to close.”

“Are we going to have to leave? I know I'll be an even bigger expense when the baby comes, but I can get a job. Help out. Grandma said she could spare a little out of her savings,” Meg said.

The sudden apprehension in her eyes broke Katie's heart. Where would Meg go? On her own she might make it, but there was the baby. Closing the shelter would be a disaster for this young mother. “No. I'll work something out. It's not that desperate yet. I just wanted you to be aware of the financial situation. Right now the feed bill is high with the additional horses, but they'll be leaving once they can travel. That should help.”

Tottie, who had been quiet, spoke up. “It might help if we keep the thermostat set lower, maybe on sixty. We can dress warmer.”

“Yes, and use more blankets on the beds,” Janet added. “Now that we know the problem, we can economize. Why, I'm fairly good with figures. We could get one of those money programs, and I can keep the books. I got A's in high school math.”

“We have wood to burn,” Ruth said. “The fireplace will heat the living area and we can spend most of our time in there. We can work it out, Katie. Don't worry. We won't let you go under.”

Meg's eyes roamed the circle. “I know I'm not as religious as the rest of you, but it seems in a time like this we should pray.”

“Of course.” Still, Katie was surprised. Why hadn't she thought to mention prayer? She tried every day to bring the spiritual into conversations, hoping to win these women over. Apparently Meg had been paying attention.

They joined hands and prayed around the circle. Even Meg offered a few simple words, though Katie kept the petitions voluntary. Not everyone was comfortable praying out loud, and Katie respected their wishes. It touched her that they cared so much about her shelter. They were good women. Life had been painful for them, so they needed a place like Candlelight. God would make a way, but she knew she was asking for a miracle.

Katie gazed around the circle at their flushed, earnest faces, feeling a bond she had come to expect. There was always a tie between her and the women she sheltered. Many stayed in touch, even the ones who went back to their old lives. She wanted to protect them. If she told them about the odd occurrences that had been happening, they would be frightened. But even worse, it could damage the progress they were making in reclaiming their lives. No, she couldn't tell them, but there was something she could do.