Saving Scott (Kobo) (4 page)

“So did I. I’ve
been here about four months. I used to live in Pittsburgh, but I wanted a small
town. My dream was to open a bakery.” She flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m blathering.
And I really have to go. I open on the fifteenth, and I’m not sure the Klutz
Brigade is going to be finished.”

“I need to
get going myself.” He lifted the tray. “Thanks again.” He watched her retreat
in those curve-hugging jeans she now wore.

Cool your
jets.

Nothing
wrong with getting to know your neighbor, which could include enjoying the
female form. He eased the door closed, then went to get dressed for work.

“Think you
can handle reception? Doranna’s here until two, so she can show you the ropes.”
Kovak seemed to have lost some of that “in the presence of a hero” aura he’d
projected yesterday.

Scott’s
thoughts strayed to Ashley. Maybe that was why he found her refreshing. If she’d
been in Pittsburgh until four months ago, odds were she had no clue what had
happened to him.

“Scott?”
Kovak’s voice snapped him back. “Reception. Usually isn’t too busy, and you can
get a feel for things. Answer phones, reassure people. File paperwork.”

“Sure, no
problem.”

“Then I’ll
leave you in Doranna’s capable hands.” Kovak nodded, then walked toward his
shared office.

“You have
local emergency dispatch, right?” Scott asked Doranna. “No 911 calls come to
this desk?”

She moved a
stack of file folders. “That’s correct. You’ll have your share of people
screaming they can’t find their dog, or their neighbor’s hitting the volume on
the stereo. Do whatever you can to calm them down, then route calls. There’s a
list of extensions and the duty roster by the phone.”

“Spent the
last three weeks riding a desk at County. I think I can handle it.” Scott eyed
the chair. He’d skipped the pain meds this morning to keep his head clear,
which in hindsight had been a stupid move. He excused himself, hit the john,
and swallowed a pill. He stopped at the break room for coffee, where everyone
had descended on Ashley’s cookies like vultures on road kill. Score a few
points for the new guy.

He sipped
the coffee. Burnt sludge. A police station standard. It felt like home.

He returned
to the desk, took his seat. The public area was a tiny room with four chairs,
separated from the police side of things by a glass partition. Long gone were
the old days when any citizen could walk into a police station and actually see
a cop. And now, his job was to maintain that separation.

He sensed
Doranna looking at him. Please, let it be because she was making sure he didn’t
screw up. Not because of more damn misguided hero worship. The phone rang. He
gave her a nod. “After all that paperwork we filled out yesterday, guess I
should start earning my paycheck.” He picked up the handset. “Pine Hills
Police. Scott Whelan.”

***

Ashley
paused at the door of Elaine Rathburn’s photography studio, which doubled as
the town’s printing service. Inhaling a breath for courage, she pushed it open.
Inside, there was no one at the counter.

“One minute.”
A female voice came from somewhere beyond a narrow doorway behind the counter.
Ashley settled onto a faux leather love seat and waited.

Photographs
adorned the walls. Portraits filled one—weddings, babies, graduation shots.
Another was landscapes. Although Ashley hadn’t been in Pine Hills long, she
recognized some of the Oregon terrain. She got up and wandered over, admiring a
group of seascapes.

“May I help
you?”

Ashley
turned at the voice. A tall, slender woman with blonde-streaked hair held atop
her head by a plastic clip appeared from a back room.

“I’m Ashley
Eagan. Maggie Cooper recommended you. She said you could print some flyers for
me.” Ashley handed over the sample she’d spent two hours working on last night.
“I know it’s last-minute, but it’s kind of an emergency. I need five hundred as
soon as possible.”

Elaine
slipped on a pair of readers and glanced at the page. “Ah, yes. The new bakery
shop. Maggie called. If you want copies of
this
, I can have them in half
an hour. If you want me to create a professional one
based
on this—” She
paused and gave Ashley a look containing more than a hint of condescension. “It’ll
be tomorrow.”

Ashley
refused to take the bait. “I know what I’ve done isn’t very professional. But
time is of the essence. I have the file on a flash drive if that will help.”

Tight-lipped,
Elaine plucked a slip of paper from under the counter and slid it in Ashley’s
direction, along with a pen. “Fine.” She disappeared into the back again.

As Ashley
filled out the required information on Elaine’s Service Request Form, which
seemed to stop short of demanding her blood type and promise of her first born
child, she figured she owed Maggie another one. Without Maggie greasing the
skids, Ashley had a feeling Elaine would have brushed her off unless she agreed
to pay for an original creation. And probably taken three days to get it done.

Well, she
didn’t have three days to spare, and it was a stupid flyer with a bakeoff entry
form. In a week, it would be obsolete. She completed Elaine’s form, then went
to the loveseat and retrieved the plastic container of cookies she’d left
there. “Elaine? Excuse me?”

After a
moment, Elaine emerged, her smile tight rather than friendly this time. “Finished?”

Ashley
nodded and extended the container. “I thought you might like a sample of what I’ll
be offering when the shop opens.”

When Elaine
made no move to take the container, Ashley opened it and slid it closer. “Triple
chocolate chip cookies.”

Almost
reluctantly, Elaine nibbled the edge of one of the cookies. Ashley tried to
keep the anticipation, the need for approval, off her face.

Elaine
nodded. “Not bad. You’re going to be selling these?”

Ashley
grinned. “And lots more.”

Elaine
finished the cookie, took the container and slid it under the counter. She
inspected the sheet Ashley had filled out. “Let’s take care of the details.”

While Elaine
ran Ashley’s credit card, Ashley took a breath, and plunged in with her next
request, telling herself Elaine would be the hardest sell of the day. If Elaine
shot her down, things could only go up.

“I thought
you might like to photograph the event. I’m afraid I can’t pay much, if
anything, but you’ll definitely be acknowledged. And, of course, I’d be coming
to you to design and print the giveaway menus I plan to have.” No need to tell
Elaine that the idea had come to her not three seconds ago.

Elaine’s
eyebrows winged upward. She studied the sample flyer, frowned. “The fifteenth?
I’ll have to check my calendar.” After clicking some keys and fussing with the
mouse, she gave a smile a few degrees warmer than before. “I have that evening
open. I’m doing a workshop on the coast the fourteenth, but I’ll be back that
night.”

Ashley’s
heart lifted. If she could convince grouchy Elaine to help, she should be able
to recruit other merchants as well. Especially armed with more cookies. “That’s
wonderful. Thanks so much. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Heading in
the direction of her store, Ashley passed the Municipal Building. Remembering
what Maggie had said yesterday about the sabotage at That Special Something,
she wondered if the cops would be able to tell if whoever had caused Sarah’s
problems might be causing hers.

Even
thinking about walking into the police station and asking them to check had her
feeling like a fool. Why would someone who wanted to harm Sarah’s
business—someone she’d never heard of, and who had no reason to know about
her—want to do
her
harm?

Maybe her
new neighbor could do some quiet checking. He seemed nice enough. Perhaps she’d
bring him another one of her experimental recipes tonight. If he worked at the
police station, he had to be safe. Her face warmed as she recalled her initial
images when she’d seen him in the handcuff-print robe.

Yeah,
right. Like he’s got a four-poster bed and likes to cuff women while he has his
way with them.

Her face
went from warm to hot as she thought about how their bedroom walls backed up to
one another, and how sound carried. Not that she’d met anyone here to make
noise with. Or wanted to.

She brushed
aside thoughts of her ex fiancé. Yet another dream crusher.

No, she
wouldn’t bother Scott. Sarah would be back from her honeymoon soon, and Ashley
would bring it up then. She’d only met Randy a couple of times, but he’d been
friendly enough, and Maggie thought he was a good cop. He might be willing to
do something for his new wife.

Part
excitement, part dread filled her as she neared her store. Maybe a miracle had
repaired her window. Carl hadn’t called yet today. That had to be good. To
delay the possible discovery that things were
not
good, instead of
circling the block to drive past the storefront, she turned left and headed
straight into the back parking lot.

Heartened to
see Carl’s pickup, Willie Duncan’s pickup, and an electrician’s van, she parked
and strode to the rear entrance. As she opened the door, she paused. The whine
of power tools and the explosive reports of the nail gun played like a
symphony. No crashes. No curse words. Afraid she might jinx something, she left
the crew to their work and tapped on the back door to That Something Special.

Maggie
opened it. “Come on in. I was about to make some tea.”

When
wasn’t
she about to make some tea? Ashley stepped inside. “I wanted to thank you again
for the brainstorming session last night.”

“Don’t be
silly. Come on back to the office. Jennifer’s minding the front. I’m trying to
make sure everything is ready for Sarah’s return. I imagine she’ll be tired
after three weeks in Florida. All that sun. The ocean. The theme parks. Enough
to exhaust anyone.” She winked. “Assuming she and Randy ever got out of their
hotel.”

What was it
with sexual undercurrents today?

Ashley
nodded a hello to Jennifer, who was busy with a customer, and followed Maggie
to the small back office.

“I meant to
ask you,” Ashley said while Maggie poured two china cups of whatever tea she’d
chosen for the day. “Tell me more about the Women’s Center. I wonder if I
should join, or do you just show up? And what sorts of things do the women
do—besides bail out struggling bakery stores?”

Maggie
settled into her chair. “It’s primarily a support center. Gives women a place
to go, people to talk to. They’ve got formal counseling, informal therapy
groups.”

“You mean
the women from last night were there because they have—problems?” She
remembered the way the last woman—Lorna—had arrived, cowering as if she was
afraid someone would jump down her throat for being late. “Lorna?”

Maggie
lowered her voice. “An abusive relationship. She refuses to leave. No skills,
no money, nowhere to go. She’s new to the group.”

She tried to
imagine what that would be like. Ashley might have left home because she couldn’t
find what she needed there, but she had skills. An expensive Culinary Institute
education. A dream.

What if she’d
believed her parents when they’d said she was foolish to want something more
than to play a supporting role to her fiancé? “Why do you need to work?” her
father had said. “Being a stay-at-home mom was good enough for your mother.” Ashley’s
mother actually believed her husband could do no wrong.

“But if you
need to work until you get married and settle down,” her father had said to
her, “what’s wrong with being a secretary? I can get you a job with Norm
Shapiro.”

Secretary.
Even with the more modern terminology, administrative assistant, it was still
an
assistant
. Ashley’s stomach churned.

What if she’d
been locked into a marriage with Barry, who thought her dreams to open a bakery
were
cute?
But no place for
his
wife.

Wife
.
Right. He expected her to give up her dreams to be his wife. What would
he
give up to become her husband? Not his social circle, that was for sure. He was
a flipping insurance broker. His firm had offices all over the country. Would
he even
consider
moving for
her
dream? Ha!

Even so,
Ashley had never considered seeking a support group beyond a couple of
daiquiris with her friend Tina. Life happened. You found a way to cope.

Sipping tea,
Ashley wondered what problems brought Kathleen and Penny into the group. They
seemed perfectly adjusted.

None of
your business.

Maggie must
have sensed her curiosity. “Some of us are there to lend an ear. We take some
basic training, but anything out of hand, we turn over to the counselors, who
can refer them to specialized agencies if they need even more help.”

Ashley knew
Maggie would never reveal where each woman fit, so she switched gears. “My web
designer is uploading an on-line entry form for the bakeoff. Elaine’s going to
do the flyers. I’m going to pick them up in an hour and start asking merchants
to have them on their counters, stuff them in bags. And donate something for
door prizes. Penny’s idea was great. If we have lots of prizes, we should get
more people to come.” She smiled. “I brought cookie bribes.”

Maggie
flapped her hand. “I know they’ll be appreciated, but hardly needed. We’re all
in the same boat here. Small independent businesses trying to keep afloat
before the mega-store iceberg hits.”

A crash from
next door completed the image.

“I’m going
to file these,” Doranna said, picking up a stack of color-coded folders. “You
all right flying solo for a bit?”