Authors: Susan Mallery
“Keep telling yourself that.”
They stared at each other. His mouth hovered inches from hers. She did her best not to react to the feel of his body against hers.
“What are the odds of one of my crew watching out the window?” he theorized.
“Better than fifty percent.”
“That's what I thought, too. Damn.” He rolled off her. “Change of subject. Has being here made you late with your book?”
“I'm not too behind.”
“This summer can't have helped with your deadline.”
“That's true, but I tend to plan ahead. Usually I have less time to write in the summer because Tyler's home, so I'm still okay.”
He shifted so he faced her and brushed the hair from her face. “What were you doing before you were a writer?” he asked.
“I waited on tables. Same as here. That's what I did when I first moved to San Francisco. When I got big enough that I walked slow, I was a cashier, where I could sit during my shift. After Tyler was born, I got work at a nicer restaurant where the tips were better.”
“Don't take this wrong,” he suggested slowly, “but I would have helped.”
“If you'd known.”
He nodded.
She considered the words. He was rightâhe would have helped.
She thought about the long, lonely evenings after she'd brought Tyler home from the hospital. Her terror at being alone with a newborn. She had checked out a few books from the library, but had no real working knowledge of what to do. She'd never really been around babies and there was no one to ask. Help would have been nice.
Loss made her throat tighten. Everything could have been different, she thought. Looking back, she wasn't sure if it would have been better, if they would have lasted as a couple. She wasn't sure she would have ever started writing. After all, her first short stories had all been about killing Ethan in an assortment of creative ways.
Regardless, she was sure, given the choice, he would want the chance to know his son from birth.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
She rolled toward him. He leaned in and lightly kissed her mouth, then they stared at each other for a long time.
She read a world of ache in his eyes. Saw the place where the past should have been. In that moment, she knew she had never stopped loving Ethan, never stopped missing him, had never moved on. And if she stayed here too long, she was in danger of him discovering that particular truth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
T
HE BANQUET ROOM AT THE HOTEL
had a view of the mountain that filled the window. Concentrating on the lush colors of the plant-life seemed much easier than making small-talk with people she didn't know at a luncheon she didn't want to attend. But here she was.
The purposeâto award scholarship recipientsâmade perfect sense. But knowing these women were getting scholarships in her name made her feel as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
Betty Higgins, the clerk from the community college, waved from another table. Liz waved back. There were about fifteen tables in allâand nearly one hundred people at the event. Lunch had been pleasantâa delicious salad and warm sourdough bread. But after the hot fudge brownie had been delivered, Dana Marton, the president of the college, stood to address everyone.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Dana, an attractive, slender woman said with a smile. She'd introduced several members of the faculty, a few significant donors, then had shifted to Liz.
“Everyone here has been brought together by a single person of extraordinary talent. Liz Sutton left Fool's Gold only a few months after graduating high school. She went away, had a baby, supported herself and her child, then started writing a detective novel. That first book, published nearly six years ago, made it to the top of the bestseller lists. Not only are her characters real and smart and sympathetic, they remind us of people we know. And for me, that's writing at its best.”
Dana glanced down at her notes, then back at the people listening. “But the significance of Liz's story lies elsewhere. Yes, she managed to overcome tremendous odds and adversity. But the most amazing part of her journey is that it had to happen somewhere else. Not here, in the town we love so much.”
Dana drew in a breath. “In a town that prides itself on caring, Liz slipped through the cracks. While we all noticed she was neglected at home, no one acted. Maybe it's because she was so mature for her age. Her grades never suffered, she was always on time to school. Maybe it was because we weren't as sensitized to disenfranchised children years ago. But when we, as a community, could have helped, there was silence.”
Liz felt the heat on her cheeks and did her best not to give in to the need to bolt for the closest door. They were talking about her life as if everyone knew. She'd become a sad and tragic legend.
“While the outcome of Liz's story is a happy one,
not every ignored child is so successful,” Dana continued. “Not every child has the skills and determination and character to survive. While we are proud of Liz and her life, we must not lose sight of this opportunity to learn from our mistakes. To do better next time so no child ever slips through the cracks again.”
There was a round of applause. Liz felt everyone glancing in her direction and did her best to appear calm and engaged. Because panic was just so unattractive.
“When Liz disappeared, we were left with a small scholarship,” Dana went on. “It should have been hers. The first suggestion was to simply fold the money back into the scholarship fund. But before we could do that, someone sent in a few dollars in Liz's name. More checks arrived. As someone once told me, fifty dollars can't change a life, but when everyone gives a little, we can change the world.”
Dana smiled at Liz. “That is how the Elizabeth Marie Sutton Scholarship was born. To date there have been nearly thirty recipients and most of them are here today.”
To Liz's astonishment, several people stood. Then more joined them. There were exactly twenty-eight woman clapping and smiling at her. Beaming as if she'd actually done something for them.
When the women were seated, Dana invited the four women who would be receiving the money this year to speak. Each of them talked about how she wanted to go
to college and how this money made it possible. They thanked Liz, which made her want to point out her big act had been to run away. But maybe this wasn't the time.
There were a few more speeches, then the luncheon ended. Liz found herself shaking hands with people and accepting their thanks. As much as she wanted to say she didn't deserve their praise, she was glad that her story had become symbolic of something bigger.
Only in Fool's Gold, she thought as a teenager was explaining how her mother was sick and the girl had to take care of her younger three brothers. That meant paying for college wasn't possible. But at Fool's Gold Community College, she could get a start on her education. All thanks to Liz.
It took a while to work through the crowd. Liz finally made her way to the college president.
“It's so nice to meet you,” Dana said warmly. “I only moved here a few years ago, so I missed the formative years of the scholarship. However, I'm happy to tell you more women apply for this money than any other scholarship we have.”
“I'm happy to hear that,” Liz stated, pulling a business size envelope out of her purse and handing it over. “I want to make a donation, but please don't say anything.”
“I won't,” Dana promised, then opened the envelope and glanced at the ten thousand dollar check. “Oh, my.”
Liz glanced around warily. “Not a word.”
“But you're being so generous.”
“I want to give back.”
A few weeks ago, Liz would have laughed at the idea of giving back. To a town that had ignored her? But things had changed. Sure, Fool's Gold wasn't perfect. No place was. There were good things and bad things, the same with the people. She might have slipped through the cracks, as Dana had described it, but that was as much a symptom of the time. Back then, how you raised your children was a more private matter. People looked away, rather than get involved. She realized it was more important to see that the people in town had tried to change. And in doing so, they'd helped others.
“Maybe you'd like to come speak to our students in the fall,” Dana suggested. “We have a lecture series that's very popular. I know you'd draw a crowd.”
Liz hesitated. “I'm not sure of my travel plans this fall,” she explained, which was mostly true. “I usually go on a book tour.”
“We could work around that.”
“Maybe,” Liz said, doing her best to sound doubtful. “I'll think about it.”
Come back here and lecture? She didn't want to have to make a special trip. Although if she was still living hereâ¦
No, she told herself. Not here. She couldn't let herself be lulled by a few good days. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life in a place where people felt free to judge her when they didn't know what they were talking about?
Never, she thought with a firm nod.
* * *
“I
CAN GET YOU A DISCOUNT
,” Ethan murmured.
Liz stared at the dresser made entirely of twigs. Not logs, not sticks, but twigs. Lots of twigs.
“How does he do that?” she reflected in a low voice. “How is it staying together?”
“You don't want to know.”
The book festival took place in the main park in town, but as Liz and Ethan walked with Abby and Tyler, she saw there was a lot more than books for sale.
The booths were clustered by subject. All the crafts together, the cooking across from the travel section. Novels were at the far end, but Liz wasn't due there for half an hour.
“She has a great crowd,” Liz noted, pointing to a large group of people surging toward a booth.
“Cookies,” he told her, grabbing her hand and keeping her close. “She writes a cookbook and offers samples.”
“Great idea. I should do that.” She frowned. “Although I'm not sure what sample I would offer.”
“Blood,” Tyler teased cheerfully from Ethan's other side.
“Or dead bodies,” Abby said with a giggle. The preteen walked next to her. Melissa had gone off with a couple of girlfriends.
“Very nice,” Liz said. “Where do you two get your ideas?”
They both laughed.
This was fun, she thought as they stopped for lemon
ade at a stand, then strolled by the quilting demonstration. Part party, part county fair. So far everyone had been friendly enough, calling out to her. No one had said anything bad about her or Tyler.
“Is that a llama?” Ethan asked, pointing.
Liz squinted, then stopped when she saw a small llama in the shade. “Don't they spit?”
“That's what I heard.”
“It's not a llama,” Tyler stated importantly. “It's an alpaca.”
“They're like sheep,” Abby added. “Their fibers are like wool and can be made into a lot of different things. Some of the fibers are really soft.”
“Llamas have ears shaped like bananas,” Tyler informed. “Alpaca ears are straight.”
Liz glanced at both of them. “Excuse me?”
The kids grinned. “A lady brought alpacas to camp last week,” Abby told her. “We spent a morning learning about them.”
“Impressive,” Liz said.
Ethan ruffled Tyler's hair. “Nicely done.”
The boy shrugged, but looked proud.
They continued toward the far end of the park. The crowd got thicker and Liz noticed big posters featuring her books. It was strange to see huge publicity photos hanging from trees.
“Is that you?” an older woman asked, stopping her. “You're Liz Sutton?”
Liz smiled. “Yes.”
“Oh, I'm such a fan. I can't wait to have you sign my books. I drove in from Tahoe this morning. I told my Edgar that we were spending the day in Fool's Gold and that I was going to meet you.”
The woman smiled at Ethan. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Liz separated herself from Ethan and the kids and moved toward the woman. “I'm signing from one to three, then from four to six,” she said. An impossibly long time, but Montana had insisted. Now that Liz saw the crowd, she had an idea that maybe she would be selling books for that long.
“I think the lines are going to be long,” Liz continued. “Did you bring a book with you? If so, I can sign it now.”
The woman beamed. “Would you? That would be so nice. Edgar wants to get home before dark.” She sighed. “You know how men are.”
Liz nodded and got a pen out of her purse. She took the offered book. “What's your name?”
“Patricia.”
Liz wrote a note, then signed the book and handed it back. Patricia patted her arm.
“You're lovely. I knew you would be.” She winked at Ethan. “And your husband is very handsome. No wonder you have such nice-looking children.”
“Thank you,” Liz said.
Patricia excused herself and left.
“Why did she say that?” Tyler asked. “Dad isn't your husband. You should have told her.”
Liz crouched in front of him. “She was trying to be nice. Sometimes it's easier to accept the compliment than explain. Besides, both you and Abby
are
nice looking.”
“Jason's parents are married,” Tyler declared.
She stayed where she was, eye level with her son. “Yes, they are.”
“You and Dad aren't married.”
“No, we're not.”
“You didn't get a divorce.”
“That's right.”
She could feel Ethan hovering, sensed that he wanted to help. But what was there to say? Eventually Tyler was going to figure out that she and his dad hadn't followed a traditional path.
“You didn't get married at all.” The words sounded like an accusation.