Smart Girls Think Twice (12 page)

“And to defend me,” Jake added.

Zoe turned to face him. “Who are you?”

Your son. Maybe. Who knows?

“He’s an extreme sports guy who wants me to walk his dog,” Lulu said.

“I can walk your dog, Jake,” Emma said.

“No way.” Lulu released Emma’s arm. “He asked me first and I accept.”

“But I don’t mind doing it—” Emma said.

Lulu interrupted her. “Yeah, well I mind.”

Jake recognized Lulu’s stubbornness. That was something they shared. That didn’t mean they shared the same mother, though. Did it?

He’d been stupid to think that he’d somehow recognize his birth mother when he met her, or that she’d recognize him. A fool to think that there’d be some sort of bond there.

Maybe his birth mother was one of the other women on the short list and not either of the two he’d met. Not Zoe and not Nic. Fine by him. Both women seemed to be head cases.

Not exactly Mother of the Year material. Not that Jake was looking for that. No, he was looking for answers, and so far he was finding damn few of them.

“Do you think it’s safe to leave the two of them alone in there?” Emma asked Jake after he’d hauled her out of Cosmic Comics with him.

“I think we should mind our own business.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“They don’t need our help. And I didn’t need you coming to my rescue.”

“Fine.” She yanked her hand out of his. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Wait a second.” He slid his hand down her bare arm to twine his fingers through hers. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

Emma didn’t reply because she was too distracted by his touch. Did he know the effect he had on her? Did he have this effect on
all
women? Why her? Why touch her? She wasn’t gorgeous or even close to beautiful. On her best days, which today wasn’t, she might be called cute. On her bad days the description was just plain or nothing special.

She was wearing jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. Hardly seductive attire. So what was going on here? Why had she leapt to his defense in that store? Yes, she had a track record of supporting the underdog, but Jake was hardly your run-of-the-mill underdog. He wasn’t your run-of-the-mill anything.

Usually Emma was good at figuring out interpersonal dynamics. But not when they involved her own personal life. So how had Jake gone from being a sociological study participant to being part of her personal life?

When he kissed you on the fire escape
, her inner academic diva replied.

“What do you know about Zoe?” Jake’s unexpected question interrupted Emma’s self-examination.

“Zoe? Not much.”

“Is Lulu her only kid?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“No reason.”

She noticed Jake was looking down when he replied. Did that mean he was hiding something from her? Why should he care about Zoe? And why ask Lulu to care for Mutt instead of asking her?

Emma studied his profile and was again distracted. The man looked good from every angle.

But she really didn’t have time to stand here drooling over him. She had things to do, places to go, and people to interview. “I’ve got to go.” She tugged free of his hold on her, at least his physical hold. Emma had yet to discover how to free herself from the sensual hold he had on her.

Emma had scheduled an interview with recently elected Rock Creek mayor Bart Chumley at his home in the Regency Mobile Home Community—formerly known as the trailer park.

Her trailer park. Bart had bought it a few years ago when he’d retired after years spent as a circus clown.

Emma heard the familiar sound of classical music as she stepped out of her Prius. Bart sat out on the covered deck of his double-wide trailer with a pitcher of iced tea on the small table beside him. He had the build of a slightly thinner Santa Claus—short and portly. He was also bald, and he appeared to be conducting the music with one hand.

“One of Bach’s cello suites, right?” Emma said.

He smiled. “Right. Played by my favorite, Yo-Yo Ma. Are you a fan of Bach?”

“I enjoy various classical composers. Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff.”

“That’s interesting.”

“It is? Why?”

“Because the first two are more intellectual, while Rachmaninoff’s music is passionate and emotional.”

“Yes, well . . .” Emma set her backpack down and removed her laptop. She wasn’t here to analyze her tastes in music. “I want to thank you for agreeing to speak with me this afternoon.”

“No problem. Would you like some iced tea?”

Emma nodded. His deck was in the shade, but the June day was hot and humid enough to make her hair misbehave even though she’d tried to scrape it back into a pony-tail. “Thank you.”

After she took a seat across from him, Bart handed her a glass, the ice cubes clinking. “I love talking about my hometown, and I’m very proud of all the changes and improvements we’ve made over the past year.”

“You were elected mayor two months ago, correct?”

“Yes. The changes in town started before then, however.”

Emma nodded. “With the renovation of the Tivoli Theater.”

“Yes. Since then, we’ve prettied up the downtown area with whiskey barrels filled with flowers in front of most of the businesses. You may have noticed them?”

“I did. The red, white, and purple petunias are very colorful.”

“That was actually your sister Leena’s idea, though she’d never admit it. Ditto for the new Rock Creek Community Park just north of town. Leena started that ball rolling by completing a grant application to a nonprofit organization that sets up parks and playgrounds in a weekend with community involvement. Those sisters of yours are real movers and shakers.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You must all be getting excited about the impending weddings.”

“Mmm,” Emma said absently as she typed info into her laptop.

“Not everyone in town is as excited about the changes in Rock Creek as we are,” Bart said.

“Traditionally, the citizens of Rock Creek have had the mindset of ridgerunners—they tend to be suspicious of flatlanders.”

Emma grinned. “I haven’t heard those terms in a while.”

“Have you forgotten what they mean?”

“Not at all. Ridgerunners are born and bred in the hills of northern and central Pennsylvania.

Basically everyone else is a flatlander.”

“And flatlanders aren’t really to be trusted.”

“That’s not unique to this area,” Emma said. “The distrust of outsiders is a universal human social condition unfortunately. Both the Internet and satellite TV have broadened people’s horizons in some cases, but there is still a sense of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ in many groups.”

“Then you’ve heard that Roy and a bunch of his buddies aren’t real happy with the recent changes?”

Emma already knew that Roy wasn’t real happy with her, but she had no idea of his views on Rock Creek.

“Rumor has it that you and Roy got into a small confrontation at Nick’s Tavern last week,”

Bart continued. “I hear he’s been boycotting the bar ever since and getting his drinks at Buzzy’s Liquor Store up by the interstate. He’s also increased his complaints about the dangerous path this town is taking. He’s not exactly a fan of the arts.”

“Then he must not be happy about the Arts and Crafts Drive that Angel Wright has organized.

I’m seeing her after I finish our interview.”

“Roy and his buddies are not only unhappy, they’ve filled the direction signs for the drive with buckshot or painted over them. Basically they’ve done whatever they can to make trouble.”

“What is the sheriff doing about it?”

“Everyone knows it’s Roy behind the vandalism, but he hasn’t been caught at it yet.

There’s no proof. He was quiet for a while there, but this past week he’s been angrier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Emma said, feeling guilty.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Bart said. “I’m a clown. Cheering people up is my specialty.”

“Right. Well, getting back to the town, what plans do you have for continuing improvements?”

“We’d like to fill the few vacancies we have in the commercial space downtown. There has already been a huge improvement in that area in the past year to year and a half. You’ve no doubt seen the new health food store, the Thai restaurant, and the antique mall, among others. We’ve got a specialty tea shop opening soon. Even the Sisters of the Poor Charity Thrift Shop has received a facelift. Your sister Leena does the window display each month, and the shop has a very successful web presence. Speaking of the Internet, I’d like to see our town’s website updated and made more interactive and welcoming. I’d also like to see everyone get involved with the town’s future, with our citizens uniting rather than being divided.”

“Did you plan on becoming the mayor when you returned to Rock Creek after so many years away?”

“No. But I could see the way the town was going downhill fast and I wanted to do something about it. That’s one of the neat things about small towns. One person
can
make a difference. Not that I’m that one person. As I said, your sister has done plenty as have Skye and her mother Angel. I wasn’t born to be a leader. I was born to be a clown. But I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to participate in this turnaround for my hometown.”

Emma spoke with Bart a bit longer before concluding the interview.

“It’s all about taking risks,” Angel Wright said an hour later. She and Emma were seated in a screened-in side porch of the farmhouse called Nirvana. “Believe me, I know all about taking risks.”

Which got Emma immediately thinking about Jake, the ultimate risk taker. That alone should have been a huge red flag for Emma.

It’s not like I want to marry the guy. I just want to have sex with him.

Right. Like you make a habit of having sex with men for the hell of it.

There’s always a first time.

Only if you’re a risk taker . . . and you’re not.

“Most of the risks I took ended in failure,” Angel was saying. “There was Friendly Franks, a tofu hot dog stand in Fairbanks, Alaska. But there were too many carnivores up there for that endeavor to be a success. And garlic gelato was the downfall of another business that went bust.

But one of my mottos is ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight.’ It’s one of my favorite Chinese proverbs. Or to put it another way: perseverance is failing nineteen times and succeeding on the twentieth. Julie Andrews said that or something very close to it. I’m not the best at quotes. My daughter Julia, the librarian, is great at it.” Angel frowned. “Where were we?”

“You were telling me how you started Angel Designs.”

“And I was talking about taking chances and not fearing failure.”

“My dad is a former Marine so I was raised with the concept that failure is not an option,”

Emma admitted.

“Oh, but that means that you’re afraid of making mistakes and you shouldn’t be. Mistakes can be a wonderful learning tool for you. You shouldn’t be afraid.”

The turn in the conversation left Emma feeling very uneasy. She didn’t want to examine her fears.

There were way too many of them for her to cope with at the moment. “Yes, well . . .

getting back to Angel Designs and how it got started.”

“It started with Ricky and Lucy. My two llamas. And then Nicole Kidman wore one of my crocheted designs and suddenly this was a big deal. My handmade scarves and shawls were really in demand. I expanded my collection and hired help. A while later I bought this farm and called it Nirvana. I got more llamas and some alpaca too. I networked with other llama owners as well as other fabric artists and weavers in the area. I have to say I was surprised at how many of them were located around here. I guess there’s something about mountains that makes artists gravitate toward them. PA actually already has several artisan trails, along Route 6 and Route 15. And now we’ve got a talented and enthusiastic group starting here in Rock Creek. We’ve got artisans who do everything from photography to watercolor painting, from furniture making and leatherworks to glassblowing. It really is amazing.”

“How many artisans do you have in the area?”

“Between forty and fifty and that’s been in the relatively short period of time of the past year or year and a half. Of course, a number of them are people I know or have interacted with over the years. Gary the glassblower used to visit my gelato store in Seattle. Artisans are often good networkers with each other.”

“A majority of them have agreed to participate in my research study and complete my questionnaire.”

“They’re good people, although you know, artists aren’t into questionnaires,” Angel warned her.

“We don’t do simple yes or no questions that well.”

“I have plenty of space for additional comments.”

“And I’m sure you’ll get plenty. I suppose you’ve heard that not everyone is as enthusiastic about the addition of artisans to this area as you are.”

“Yes, but they’re not the majority.”

“They don’t have to be. They only need to use fear and intimidation to get their way.”

“Have you received any threats?”

“Not directly, no. My significant other, Tyler, would scare off anyone who tried to come here to make trouble. But they don’t have to step foot on Nirvana to create chaos. An organization called Americans for Rock Creek has put flyers on parked cars in town, saying that weirdos aren’t welcome here, that we should all go back where we came from.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, so am I. They are creating bad karma for themselves when they wish ill on others.”

Emma doubted that Roy and his group were worried about their karma.

“That was Mom.” Emma closed her cell phone. They’d made it to Thursday, forty-eight hours before Sue Ellen’s wedding, without any major family meltdowns. “She said she’d be a little late and we should wait for her before we start our spa experience.”

“What can you say about a place called the Ritzee Day Spa?” Leena looked around, wrinkling her nose at the salmon and lime green paisley wallpaper that overpowered the tiny waiting area.