The Tenderness of Thieves (14 page)

M
Y MOTHER LOOKED UP
from her sewing machine. It was early in the morning, and her eyes were still weary. This time, pale yellow chiffon covered every available surface and the floor like a layer of butter. Despite the air conditioner humming in the window, she was sweating. It was the only room in the house that had one. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

I placed her iced coffee in the only available space, right against the wall behind the giant red pincushion. “Talk about what?”

She pushed aside the chiffon. “Jane, don’t play dumb.”

I sighed. “I’m not.”

“I’m worried about you, and we haven’t had a real talk in a while. Then Professor O’Connor comes over and says the police have a lead. You didn’t know anything about it? Nothing at—”

“It’s not like I remember anything else,” I cut in. Walked away from her. Stopped only when I stood in the doorway, ready to disappear down the hall.

My mother took a sip of the coffee. “All right. I’m not going to push you.”

The dark cloud lifted. “Thank you.” I wanted to change the subject. I took a step forward, now that the conversation could go somewhere safer. Glanced at all the fabric everywhere. “Who’s forcing bridesmaids into yellow chiffon?”

My mother closed her eyes a moment. Like she was trying to forget her worry. Then she took a deep breath and opened them again. “Lizzie McCreary.”

“The oldest McCreary sister?”

My mother nodded.

“All that fair freckled skin and she couldn’t have chosen another color?”

My mother made an ick face. “I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?”

I grabbed a yard off the floor, held it up to my body. Even my olive skin looked washed out. “It really is.”

My mother took some of it into her hands. “The fabric is lovely, but that color is death to anyone who wears it, regardless of how pretty they are. I tried to convince Lizzie to choose blue or green to go with her sisters’ pretty strawberry-blond hair, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Something about her bridesmaids matching the center of the daisies in their bouquets.”

“Wow. How horrible.”

“Truly.”

“Promise me something,” I said.

“And what’s that?”

“When I get married, you will not allow me to inflict such trauma onto Tammy, Michaela, and Bridget. You’ll remind me what good friends they’ve been to me all these years and how a bride should always be kind to her bridesmaids.”

My mother laughed. “I’ll do that.” Her face grew serious. “You’re not about to tell me you’re engaged, are you?” Her tone was half kidding, but only half.

I put a hand to my chest. “Me? Getting married? Any time this century?” I shook my head like she was crazy. “Have you been drinking?”

The look on her face lightened up. “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. “Though, the way Jenny Nolan was talking about you and Handel Davies, it sounded like she hoped you two would be married off already.”

“Jenny Nolan has no idea about anything.”

“You do, though. Care to share?”

“Don’t you have work to do?” I dodged.

“I’m here when you want to talk about it.”

“I’m aware,” I said, halfway out the door again.

The pedal of my mother’s Singer began its slow rhythm, then stopped. “Jane, one last thing.”

I’d already turned around, but I stopped. “What’s that?”

“It’s not your job to save anyone,” she said. “Not even if you fall in love with them.” Then the pedal started up, the sewing needle pricking the delicate chiffon mercilessly and leaving a trail of stitches behind.

• • •

“Bridget’s got a boyfriend,” Tammy was singing when I arrived at the beach.

Bridget leaned over and whacked Tammy with her magazine. The “Us” in
Us Weekly
just barely readable on the curve. “What are you, twelve?”

“Sometimes,” she said, rubbing her arm.

“Yeah, well, Tammy’s got a boyfriend,” Bridget sang back to her.

“That’s not fair,” Tammy said. “I don’t have a magazine to hit you with.”

“I take it last night at the Ocean Club ended well,” I said, laying out my towel, watching as it floated down onto the sand. I threw my flip-flops onto the far corners.

Bridget was busy guarding her magazines so Tammy couldn’t get ahold of one. “Tammy’s luck had nothing to do with the Ocean Club, though she’s not quite ready to admit it,” she whispered to me. Then she mouthed
Seamus
and put a finger to her lips.

I nodded. I couldn’t help but smile, too. I loved the idea of Tammy and Seamus together. “What’s this about you having a boyfriend, B?”

Michaela huffed. “If you’d stayed with us until we left, you’d already know the answer.”

I let my hair fall from its knot on my head so I wouldn’t feel the bump when I lay down. “I was tired.”

“Tired of us?” Michaela asked.

I shook my head forcefully. “No way.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Tammy said.

“Someone’s been doing their summer reading assignment,” Michaela said wryly.

Tammy shrugged. “We can’t all be as smart as
Jane,
” she said, her voice singsongy.

“You really are twelve,” I told her.

“She totally is,” Bridget said with a sigh.

I took refuge on the other side of Bridget. Slathered on sunscreen. Waited for the conversation to continue without me, but when it didn’t, I turned to the girls, wondering what was causing the silence. The sun burned on my bare skin. “Did I miss something?”

Michaela seemed exasperated. “Jane!”

“Fine.” I knew what they were waiting for, and it was about time to give in. “I have another story to tell. A longer one this time. About Handel,” I added.

“I knew it,” Bridget chirped.

“So did I.” Michaela sighed. She shifted on her towel, turning onto her side so she could face me. “I just hoped I was wrong.”

I put my sunglasses on to cut the glare. “I’m not telling my story if you’re going to prejudge.”

“Tell it, tell it,” Tammy said. “No prejudging on this part of the beach.”

“I will, as long as you guys spill after I do.”

“Of course,” Bridget said, her eyes sliding to the lifeguard who had just loped past on his break. “I’m dying to tell you my updates, anyway.”

Michaela’s exasperation turned on Bridget now. “You’re too easy, you know.”

This time, Michaela got whacked by Bridget’s magazine. A different one.
People.
“Well, you’re too bitchy. How ’bout that?”

“Ladies, please,” I said, laughing. “We’re all friends here.”

Bridget harrumphed. “I always
thought
so, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Sorry, B,” Michaela droned. “You’ve got quite an arm.”

Bridget smiled sweetly now. “I might be easy, but I’m definitely not weak.”

“That you are not,” Tammy said. “You were saying, Jane?”

My sunglasses provided adequate cover from their stares—I was glad I had them. I took a deep breath, then launched into the details. “I went down to the docks to meet Handel last night. And, um, we’ve seen each other more than I may have told you,” I admitted, then shrank back a little, waiting for possible contact with one of Bridget’s magazines.

Bridget’s mouth opened in surprise. “You’ve been keeping things from us!”

“I told you it was a longer story this time.”

“Uh-oh,” Michaela said. “You really like him, don’t you?”

A smile wanted onto my face, but I tried to hold it off. Handel didn’t even have to be nearby to make me swoon. “I do.” Michaela was about to say something else, but I didn’t let her. “He’s different from how you guys think. He’s different from how everyone else says for that matter. I know he’s got that bad boy thing, but after spending all this time with him, I really don’t understand what’s so bad.”

Tammy’s laugh was full of sarcasm. “Um, he’s a Davies.”

“Which means he’s also connected to every single hoodlum in our town,” Michaela went on, but she wasn’t laughing. “Your father would have—” she started, but then was halted from finishing by another hard whack of a magazine, this time from Tammy, who’d grabbed one off Bridget’s towel to do it.

The smile fell from my face. “I swear, Handel’s not like that. My dad would have liked him. Because of how Handel likes me,” I added.

Bridget placed a hand on my arm. “I believe you, Jane.” Then she turned her glare on Michaela. “And I think if you want to tell us more about how you feel, there will not be any more judgment or negativity. Will there? Hmm?”

“Sorry, J,” Michaela said. “Really.”

Tammy just nodded. “Promise.”

I reached for the remains of Bridget’s iced coffee, the cup anchored in the sand.

“Go ahead,” she said, nodding.

I picked it up, avoiding the wet chunks falling off the bottom. The sun was so hot, and I was suddenly so parched. I sucked down all that was left, my eyes widening at the shock of how sweet it was. Bridget always put in way too much sugar, but I wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks,” was all I said. Then, “I want you guys to like Handel. Actually, I
need
you guys to like him.”

Bridget’s face lit up. “Oh my God. Do you, like,
love
him?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

Michaela, who’d been holding her breath, let it out.

Tammy stared blankly.

The burn in my cheeks had nothing to do with the sun overhead. I was thinking about last night and all that had happened between us. Things were starting to get . . . intense. “But there was quite a lot of, well, kissing, et cetera.”

Michaela’s eyebrows went up. “Define
et cetera.
”

Tammy glanced at Michaela. “Jane doesn’t
need
to give us details. It’s not like
you
ever give us details.”

Michaela huffed but didn’t push any further.

Bridget cocked her head, looking at me. “I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself, Jane. Maybe you do love him. And I say that because of the, well,
et cetera
you just mentioned. It’s not like you to, you know, go anywhere with a boy besides kissing—not that I’m disapproving because I’m absolutely not,” she added quickly. “I approve wholeheartedly if it’s what you really want.”

I waited for the blush on my face to subside. “Maybe Handel and I are heading in that direction. You know, toward
love.
” It was strange to say that word out loud in reference to a boy and me. It tasted like a foreign substance. “But I’m not quite ready to decide that love is what’s happening. It feels serious, though, which is why it’s so important to me that you guys like him.”

Tammy shifted positions on her towel. She was nodding. “Okay. Maybe all we need to do is spend some time with him. Maybe he’s suspicious simply because he’s an unknown.”

“And because,” Michaela began, but Bridget shot her a glare, to which she replied, “I’m not gonna say anything bad,” with gritted teeth, before continuing her response. “Because we
love
you, Jane, and want you to be okay. We want you to be with someone who’s going to make you happy.”

“I am happy,” I admitted. “He makes me happy.”

“It’s settled, then,” Michaela said.

“What is?” I asked.

Michaela picked up her suntan lotion and began applying some to her arms. “You’re going to arrange for all of us to get together so we can start feeling about Handel the way you do.”

This got Michaela a confused look from Tammy. “I don’t know about you, but I am not planning on liking Handel Davies the way Jane does.”

Michaela switched to her legs. “You know what I mean.”

I waved a hand in front of their faces, trying to get their attention back. “Um, I can try to make that happen, but Handel is a pretty private guy.”

Bridget sighed dreamily. “Mystery is half of what makes the bad boy seem so bad.”

“If he cares about you, then he’ll do it,” Tammy said simply. “We’re your girls.”

“Right,” I said.

But I wasn’t sure it was that simple.

“Great,” Michaela said.

“Oooh,” Bridget nearly squealed. “I’ve always wanted to get up close and personal with someone like Handel.”

I laughed. “I think it’s about time you told me how
your
night ended, now that I’ve told you about mine.”

Michaela rolled onto her stomach, like she couldn’t bear to go through the details, but on her way there, she said, “Bridget had three guys fighting over her.”

“It was
wonderful,
” Bridget sighed.

I smiled. “And what were you two doing while this was going on?”

Tammy snorted. “Making bets.”

Michaela lifted her head an inch. “I thought Hugh might win.”

“But it seems Logan has the edge,” Tammy said. “Then again, James was in the lead at one point. Bridget, would you care to share?”

“You girls make it sound so pedestrian,” she said.

“Pedestrian? Apparently it’s not just me who’s been studying,” Tammy said.

Bridget took off her sunglasses. Batted her eyelashes at us, then put them back on. “I’ve got plenty of SAT words up my sleeve.”

“You’re really good at that, B.” Tammy was sincere. “The batting-your-eyelashes thing, I mean.”

“You should try it,” she said with a slight pout. “Boys love it. All it takes is a little practice.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” I said. “Which boy has the edge, B?”

There was that dreamy smile of hers. “They’re
all
really sweet. Ask Michaela what she thinks of Hugh, for example.”

Michaela shook her head. Then shrugged. “Fine. Hugh is kind of hot. I’ve never dated a black guy. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe you should,” I echoed, giving her a smirk.

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally.

A woman lugging two beach chairs and an umbrella nearly knocked into me as she walked by our setup. I ducked away just in time. “And Miles?” I asked, righting myself again. “What about him in all of this jockeying?”

Tammy tsked. “He was rather shattered when you took off.”

I dug for an elastic in my beach bag, but it was stuffed with so many things I couldn’t seem to find one. I needed to get my hair off my neck. It was too hot to have it down. “Nah.”

“
Yeah,
” Tammy said, tossing me one of her elastics. “Don’t deny it. He has a thing for you.”