Colleen
It didn’t take her more than five minutes to figure out that her
brother-in-law was not the kind of boss to hover over her shoulder or
micromanage. He gave her a quick tour of the building, showed her the recording
studio and the restroom, pointed out the coffee pot, the fridge, the microwave,
the telephone that was buried under a pile of mail on the reception desk, and
left her to figure out the rest on her own.
The first thing she did was make a pot of coffee. She poured
herself a cup, then poured one for Rob, carried it to his private office, and
knocked on the open door. Phone clasped to his ear, he swiveled in his chair,
saw the cup, and his eyes lit up. Colleen handed it to him silently. He gave
her a thumbs-up, said into the phone, “That’s not a high enough percentage. We
need to negotiate for more,” and swiveled back around.
She spent a half-hour sorting through six weeks of mail. Somebody
had already made a halfhearted run-through, because a couple of the envelopes
had been opened and their contents stuffed back inside. Most of it was junk
mail. Sales flyers, electronics catalogs, random pieces addressed to Occupant. Thinking
about all those trees who’d sacrificed their lives for this vast assortment of
rubbish, she tossed out everything addressed to Occupant, along with all the
junk mail, except for a couple of catalogs she thought he might want to hold onto.
She took her time going through the rest of it, sorting it into
neat little piles: one for him to read, another to be filed, a third she could
deal with once she’d talked them over with him. She’d just finished her second
cup of coffee when Rob emerged from his office. “Hey,” he said. “You doing
okay?”
“So far, so good.”
“I forgot to mention that you need to go to the post office every
morning and pick up the mail.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a
set of car keys. “Here.” He tossed the keys and she caught them in midair. “Take
the Explorer. Box 237. The key’s on the ring. The mail’s usually in the boxes
by 8:30. It wouldn’t break my heart if you wanted to bring back doughnuts.”
The post office was located in a tidy, post-WWII building that
also housed the police station, where her cousin Teddy worked as one of the
town’s two full-time officers. She parked the Explorer beside a muddy police
cruiser and crossed the parking lot, the American flag whipping in the wind
above her head. Hoping she wouldn’t run into Teddy, she entered the foyer of
the police station, where the receptionist sat gossiping on the phone about somebody
named Gloria. Spying her cousin at the far end of the corridor, Colleen took a
hard left through a glass door and into the post office lobby.
Had he seen her? The last thing she needed today was to run into
Teddy. He was a royal pain in the ass, a know-it-all who could talk you into a
coma. Teddy liked to throw his weight around, and she didn’t doubt that he was
taking advantage of his position to spread his particular brand of sunshine all
over the citizens of Jackson Falls.
She managed to avoid the postmistress, Eleanor Hardy, whose dour
face had been stationed behind that counter since dinosaurs roamed the earth. Colleen
found Box 237, opened it with her key, and pulled out a stack of mail. She was
sorting through the pile, discarding the junk mail in a trash can, when the
glass door opened and an all-too-familiar voice said, “Well, I’ll be damned! It’s
my little cousin Colleen. I thought you blew this town without ever looking
back.”
She straightened, took a breath to compose herself, then wheeled
around to face him. “Hello, Teddy. The police department hasn’t fired you yet?”
“Ha, ha. Real funny. What the hell are you doing back here in
Jackson Falls?”
“Maybe I got homesick.”
He moved the toothpick he was chewing from the left side of his
mouth to the right. “And maybe I have a piece of swampland in Arizona that I
want to sell you. So, what, you got a post office box or something?”
“Or something.”
He leaned his considerable bulk over her, invading her personal
space to peer at the stack of mail she held clasped to her bosom. “Two Dreamers
Records,” he read aloud. “Hunh. You picking up Casey’s mail for her?”
“Actually, I’m working for Rob. As his assistant.”
“Her hippie-dippie freak of a husband? Waste of air space, that
one, if you ask me.”
Her smile oozed insincerity. “What a shame that I didn’t ask
you.”
He stood there, still too close, beefy arms swinging at his side. “I
hear your husband died.”
She raised her chin. “Yes,” she said flatly. “He did.”
“So what number was this one? Your fifth? Sixth?”
Rage swept through her. She clutched the mail more tightly and
said, “You know what, Teddy? It’s been really great running into you. Next
time, I’ll be sure I’m behind the wheel when I do it.”
The fool actually grinned. “Good thing I know you don’t mean it. That
could be construed as threatening a police officer.”
“Take it any way you want to, big boy. Excuse me, but I have to
get back to work before my hippie-dippie freak of a boss docks my pay.”
She shoved past him, thrust open the glass door, felt his eyes on
her as she exited. Just before the door closed behind her, he shouted, “Make
sure he’s paying you what you’re worth!”
***
She slammed her purse down on the desk and said grimly, “I want a
raise.”
His mouth wrapped around the honey-glazed doughnut he’d pulled
from the bag she’d unceremoniously tossed at him ten seconds earlier, Rob
reached for a tissue from the box on her desk. “Already?” he said, wiping his
mouth. “You just started two hours ago.”
“I ran into my cousin Teddy at the post office.”
“Oh, boy.”
“If I have to put up with the likes of him five days a week, I
think I deserve combat pay!” She pulled off her coat and hung it on the coat
rack by her desk. Bent to unzip her boots. “He’s not exactly your biggest fan,
by the way.”
“That road runs both ways.” Her brother-in-law perched on the
corner of her desk and lovingly eyed his doughnut. “What’d he say about me?”
“Not much,” she said, lining up the boots neatly beside the coat
rack. “Unless you consider being called a hippie-dippie freak to be much. Oh,
and he also said you’re a waste of air space. What the hell is that all about?”
“I don’t really know. All I can say is there’s no love lost
between us. And he fawns over Casey like she’s the Queen of England. Why she
lets him get away with it, I don’t know.”
“Maybe he’s jealous.”
Her brother-in-law raised his eyebrows. “He’s her first cousin,
and if you’re implying what I think you are, that’s sick and twisted.”
“I rest my case. And my sister needs to pull that stick out of her
ass and stop being so damn polite to everyone. I don’t have time to be polite. I
threatened to run over him the next time I see him.”
He grinned. “You,” he said around a mouthful of doughnut, “are
like the dark side of my wife. The yin to her yang.”
She sniffed. “What’s Teddy doing hanging around the station,
anyway? As an officer of the law, isn’t he supposed to be out on the street,
solving crime?”
“Not much crime to be solved here in this rural paradise.”
“Then maybe he should move somewhere else to fight it. Some place
far, far away. Miami’s a hotbed of illegal activity. On the other hand, that’s
still too close for comfort. Maybe Los Angeles.” She smiled darkly. “Or Hong
Kong.”
“So I suppose this wouldn’t be the best time to say
welcome
home
.”
Her response to that was a resounding snort.
She spent the rest of the morning stewing, didn’t calm down until a
heavy load of carbohydrates disguised as lunch mellowed her mood. She took a
few calls, passed most of them on to Rob. Scheduled time for a local band to
come in and tour the studio. Spent a few minutes playing with Emma while Casey
held a closed-door summit with her husband. She sorted today’s mail, sat down
with Rob to go over the various piles and clarify what he expected her to do
with them.
Then she tried to make sense of the filing system Ali had set up.
She was leaning over an open file drawer when the outer door
opened and closed. “Be with you in a minute,” she said.
“No rush,” said a familiar voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She spun around, the filing forgotten. “Bill,” she whispered, and
her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my God, Bill!”
“Hey, kid. What’s shaking?”
She met him halfway, this brother she adored, the one person who
made coming home worth the hassle. Ever since she’d arrived, she’d struggled to
maintain a brave front, but when his arms went around her, she lost it
completely. A total blubbering mess, she clung to him until the storm passed
and there was nothing left but hiccups and red, swollen eyes. Only then was she
able to compose herself enough to say, “What’s with the gray hair?”
“Just wait. Your turn will come.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been dyeing my hair for two years now. God,
what a sniveling wretch I am. Now you’ll go home and Trish will give you the
third degree about who blubbered all over your shirt.”
“She knew I was coming.”
“And she let you out anyway?”
“Come on, Coll, it’s not that bad. She was mad at you for a while,
but she got over it.”
“She never liked me.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“Okay. Maybe it’s not true. But she never thought I was good
enough for her baby brother. Ten years Jesse and I were married, and she barely
spoke to me for the entire decade.”
He shrugged amiably. Said, “So are you staying? For the long
haul?”
“You know I can’t do that. This town and I mix like oil and water.
It’s always been that way.”
“It’s never too late to change.”
“It’s way too late to change. And I can’t believe you’d even ask
such a thing. Especially considering that your wife would be the one holding
the bucket of tar while the rest of the town feathered me.”
“I think you’re wrong. And why should it matter what Trish thinks?
I want you to stay. Casey wants you to stay.”
“Two lone voices,” she said, “crying in the wilderness.”
“Hon, I don’t know if I’m the one who should tell you this, but
since I’m your big brother, it’s probably my duty to take a shot at it. You
have to dislodge that chip on your shoulder. It’s weighing you down. Preventing
you from moving ahead. Drop that heavy load and open your eyes. You might see
something really special.”
Patting his face fondly, she said, “You’re such a dreamer. You
always were.”
Harley
Since he already had business at the Cooperative Extension Service
office, Harley decided he’d do what he could to help out a friend. “You folks
have any information on raising sheep?” he asked the young woman at the
reception desk. “I have a friend who’s considering going into the wool business.”
The woman peered at him through Coke-bottle lenses. “Well, now. Sheep?
Let me see what I can find.”
It took her a while, but after scrounging around, she hit pay dirt.
He left with a half-dozen pamphlets and the names of several local sheep farmers
who, she said, would be more than willing to talk to his friend. Rob would
probably throttle him, but he felt like he owed it to Casey, especially after
the mayhem his dog had created at her dinner table the other night.
With January thaw over, the Northeast had been plunged into a deep
freeze, and every one of those little slushy ridges created by countless snow
treads had frozen as hard as Gibraltar. The twenty-mile trip home almost jarred
the teeth out of his head. After ten years in Manhattan, he’d thought he knew
what winter was all about. But driving through this arctic mess that shook the bejesus
out of his suspension and was probably destroying his alignment was a far cry
from walking out of his midtown office wearing a cashmere coat and dress shoes
and hailing a cab to take him uptown.
His dashboard clock told him he had some free time before the
afternoon milking, so he passed Meadowbrook Road and took Ridge Road instead. He
wasn’t dropping by Two Dreamers in the hopes of running into the Widow again;
he was simply doing Casey MacKenzie a favor. His visit had nothing to do with
the evening he’d recently spent with her younger sister.
“You keep telling yourself that, son,” he muttered under his
breath. Scowling, he clicked his blinker and pulled into the driveway of the
MacKenzie house. Pamphlets in hand, he knocked vigorously on the front door. Somewhere
inside the house, Leroy started barking, but nobody came to the door. The
Explorer was missing from the driveway. Maybe Casey was out running errands.
For about ten seconds, he debated the advisability of coming back
on a different day, but what was the point when he was already here and Colleen
was undoubtedly sitting at the reception desk in the studio? He ran a hand
through his hair, in case it looked worse than he remembered, then cursed
himself for being a fool. It didn’t make one whit of difference whether or not
he looked presentable to the Widow Berkowitz. Oh, she was nice to look at. And
she smelled heavenly. That edge of hers, razor sharp and intriguing, was an
enticing challenge. And, as embarrassing as this was to admit, it had been
fifteen months, two weeks, and three days since he’d last been laid. He was as
jumpy as a canary in a room full of tomcats.
But the ice princess was still off-limits.
She was on the phone when he came in. She glanced up, rolled her
eyes, and said into the phone, “Is that so? That’s quite impressive.”
Hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, Harley wandered the
room, examined the gold records that lined the walls, the Grammy Awards in a
glass-fronted case. Behind him, Colleen said, “I’ll be sure to pass that
information on to Mr. MacKenzie when he comes back. Right. Thanks so much for
calling.”
She disconnected the phone, swiveled in her chair, and said to him,
“Where are these people coming from? Did an alien space ship land out back of
the IGA?”
“I take it that wasn’t a personal call?”
“Hardly. Just one more third-rate Karaoke singer who’s heard that
my brother-in-law built a real, live studio here in the puckerbrush and thinks
Rob can make him into the next Elvis Presley.”
He hid a smile. “Elvis Presley?”
“Okay, so that dates me. How about the next Michael Jackson?”
“Old Michael or new Michael?”
She tapped her Papermate on the edge of her desk. Clicked it a
couple of times. “Jesus, Atkins, you’re taking this way too seriously. What can
I do for you?”
“Your sister around? I knocked on the door, but nobody answered.”
“She’s at the doctor’s office. Emma has an ear infection. They
both went with her.”
“That’s sweet, that whole family thing.”
“That’s a kid who’s going to end up spoiled rotten. What did you
want with Casey?”
He waved the pamphlets in the air. “I picked these up for her
while I was at the Cooperative Extension office.”
She took them from him, skimmed a few lines of text. “Sheep,” she
said dryly. “They’re about raising sheep. I’m sure my brother-in-law will be
thrilled.”
“Just tryin’ to be neighborly.”
“And you do it so well.”
“Will you please give these to her?”
Her smile was cool and professional. Smoothly, she said, “I’ll be
happy to pass them on to her.”
“Thank you.”
Blue eyes gazed boldly into blue eyes, until finally she cleared
her throat and said, “Was there anything else?”
“That was it. And I have to skedaddle. There’s an eager group of
females waiting on me.”
“The afternoon milking?”
“Score one for the little lady.”
“Little lady? It’s a good thing I lived in the South long enough
to know that term isn’t meant in a derogatory manner.”
“I would never refer to you in a derogatory manner.”
“You’d better—what was the word you used? Skedaddle. Before all your
adoring females turn on you. Have you ever seen a herd of Holsteins carrying
pitchforks? It’s not a pretty sight.”
He snorted. “Now that would be something to see.”
“Goodbye, Harley.”
He tipped his hat and let himself out the door. As he walked to
his truck, he realized there was a spring to his step that hadn’t been there in
a long time. Not since he discovered Amy’s long lunches were being spent in
Peter Swinson’s king-size bed. Damned if Colleen Berkowitz, with her defiant
attitude and her sassy mouth, didn’t make him feel better than he’d felt in
ages.
Which, now that he thought about it, was a very bad thing.