Carrie Alexander – Smooth Moves (страница 2)

Carefully Julia Knox lifted the point of her pen off the paper. She shook her head so that a misplaced strand of honey-brown hair fell neatly into place in her precision-cut bob. “Yes, ladies, it’s shocking but true. Zack Brody is returning to Quimby.”

Somewhat deflated now that she’d been beaten to the punch, Gwen plopped into a peppermint-striped chair. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Allie Spangler said, “Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy,” and then suddenly all five of the Heartbroken were talking at once, even Faith.

Only Cathy Timmerman, whose position with the Wednesday nighters was often less that of a crafts teacher than a therapist, was silent. And it wasn’t because she didn’t know Zack “Heartbreak” Brody, although as far as these women and the rest of the town were concerned, she didn’t. Never met him at all.

Presumably.

Cathy had moved to Quimby only seven months ago, and Zack Brody had been gone for approximately a year. All she knew of him as an adult were the praises sung by the townsfolk and the frequent yet affectionate complaints lodged by the Wednesday nighters.

A year should have been enough time to heal a broken heart—even five of them—but of course Heartbreak was a legend unto himself. Ordinarily, Cathy might have believed that in Zack’s case time and distance had served to heighten, even exaggerate, his reputed lady-killer charms. She would have taken the women’s words with not just a grain but an entire shaker of salt.

Ordinarily, she might have.

If not for her secret.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Allie Spangler shouted above the fray. The women quieted. “Personally, I can’t believe it. Only last week—” Allie scrambled for her purse to a quartet of groans. “Okay, only a month ago, I had a postcard from Zack. He didn’t mention—aha, here it is!” She pulled the item from her disorganized saddlebag of a purse, blissfully unaware that the worn card’s continuing presence in her happily-married life was telling in its own way. Waving a red-rock canyon river scene at the other women, she said, “Zack’s still in Idaho with his brother.”

“A month ago, Allie.” Julia checked the postmark. April 6th. “Make that nearly two months ago.”

“So there,” Gwen said. “Kelly Thompson heard from the Rickeys in Florida who are neighbors to Eve Brody’s sister. Heartbreak’s coming home. Soon.”

“Julia?” Laurel’s voice was reedy. “Is this true? What do you know?”

With the excuse that she didn’t want anyone fainting in her store, Cathy was watching Laurel Barnard closely. The fellow shopkeeper’s face had gone from stark white to a mottled rosy pink. There was a fine trembling about her mouth. Though Cathy’s own emotions were in turmoil, she girded herself to minister first to Laurel.

Poor, poor Laurel. Heartbreak’s jilted bride.

Pale, feminine, maidenly slim at twenty-eight, Laurel’s air was delicate—misleadingly so, in Cathy’s opinion. Then again, at hearing the news, Laurel had believably gone from merely delicate to fragile as antique porcelain. The panic in her eyes seemed very real. While Cathy had never been sure if she entirely believed Laurel’s side of the cancelled wedding, she did sympathize with the woman. Being forever known as Quimby’s resident jilted bride couldn’t be easy.

Julia Knox capped her bottle of ink, her strong features drawn together in thought. She had been Heartbreak’s long-term girlfriend—from high school through a few years of college—and yet was still the most philosophical about him. While stingy with details, she claimed their breakup had been amicable. However, she also seemed to take little serious interest in the men she’d dated in the years hence.

“I’m afraid it’s true, Laurel.” Julia placed her manicured hand on the other woman’s sleeve. “Zack told me to take the Brody house off the market months ago.”

“Months?” Gwen was outraged. “And you kept it to yourself?”

Laurel sniffled. Faith handed her a tissue.

Julia was a Realtor. The Realtor, insular Quimby-style. “Zack and I haven’t spoken. He sent me a fax, Gwen. It didn’t provide any information concrete enough to share, except that he was planning to eventually return to town.”

Whatever Julia’s inside information, Cathy was certain that the real estate agent wouldn’t have shared inappropriate details. And definitely not with Gwen, whose heart was in the right place beneath her bluster, but whose restraint was suspect.

Upon her arrival in Quimby, Cathy had purchased her business and leased a house through Julia Knox’s small but exceedingly professional agency. She’d soon seen that in business dealings, Julia was cool, efficient, responsible. Once earned as a friend, she was warm, thoughtful and unquestionably loyal. Cathy valued Julia’s word above all others.

“I heard he’s arriving tomorrow,” Gwen said, dropping the bomb.

Faith squeaked. Laurel gasped. “Tomorrow!”

Allie’s freckles stood out in stark relief; she looked like she’d swallowed a frog. “Urg,” she said thickly, waving her hands.

“There’s no need to get crazy over this,” Julia counseled the agitated women. “Zack has every right to come back to Quimby—”

“Huh!” Gwendolyn crossed her arms over her chest, looking combative.

Laurel spoke. “I’ll say this—the town’s not big enough for both of us.”

Cathy was startled by the seething resentment evident in Laurel’s voice. Admittedly, being jilted by your catch-of-a-lifetime groom at the very altar of your dream-come-true wedding was not something a woman gets over in a week’s time. A year later, though…

Cathy shrugged inwardly. Who was she to question Laurel’s animosity toward Zack Brody? She, herself, had known him for only the one school year. Fifth grade, at that. And his memory had lingered for nearly two decades.

The man’s charms were potent.

It stood to reason that his betrayal would be poisonous.

Evidently Julia thought so, too. When she looked at Laurel, her amber hazel eyes filled with sympathy, and something more. Perhaps a touch of exasperation? Nonetheless, she wound a comforting arm around the woman she’d known for years. “You don’t have to associate with him, Laurel.”

Laurel heaved a watery sigh and laid her head on Julia’s shoulder. Her moment of vindictiveness had dissipated into a kind of childish helplessness that Cathy had seen her employ before. “I don’t see how I can avoid it.”

Gwen’s eyes were avid. “You can bet he’ll be showing up everywhere, shaking hands, making amends. Heck, most of the town’s already forgiven him. They still think he’s the greatest thing since Oxie Shaw made the basket that beat Buxton.”

“It wasn’t for them to judge him in the first place.” Short, auburn-haired Allie Colton Spangler was staunchly proHeartbreak. Not even the circumstances of Laurel’s jilting had shaken her good opinion of the man. The Coltons and the Brodys had been neighbors; Allie had grown up with Zack. Their relationship had never been romantic—which may have been why she was the only currently married woman among them—but they had been extremely close. Even her husband accepted that Heartbreak would always own a special place in Allie’s heart.

“What Zack did was wrong.” Once roused, Julia’s disapproval was fierce. “It may have turned out that he had a good reason, with his brother and all, but to skip town on the day of the wedding without explanation, leaving Laurel to contend with all the mess and questions—” Lips compressed, Julia shook her head in censure. “No wonder she can’t forgive him.”

Laurel swept aside the lustrous wave of rich chestnut hair that had fallen across her face. “Oh, I hate to remember. It was so humiliating….”

Faith cooed with commiseration.

Idly, Cathy drew elaborate swirls and curlicues on her practice paper. No calligraphy tonight. Since Heartbreak’s actions had stuck Laurel with the role of tragic jilted heroine whether she liked it or not, the woman had chosen to play it to the hilt. There would be no quick end to the dramatic embellishments of her legendary trauma.

A temporary escape seemed advisable. Feeling guilty about the short shrift of her sympathy for Laurel, Cathy offered to make a quick run to the Central Street Café for coffee and sweets.

When she returned ten minutes later with a tray of steaming foam cups and a box of assorted baked goods, Laurel was in better shape. Or at least sitting upright, Cathy noted as she distributed coffee, plastic spoons, and packets of sugar and cream. Progress.

“He shouldn’t get away with it,” Laurel said, adding a minuscule sprinkling of sugar to her coffee. Color flamed high in her cheeks; her green eyes were unnaturally bright. “I’ve suffered. So should he.”

Cathy held her tongue. Laurel’s “suffering” included the condolence gift of a fashionable dress shop by her placating parents, considerable leeway from the townsfolk and a steady string of suitors eager to restore her faith in men.

Julia agreed—with caution. “A stern scolding is in order.”

Gwen snorted. “A scolding? How about a tar-and-feathering?”

Wide-eyed, Allie put down a half-eaten doughnut and wiped powdered sugar off the tips of her prominent nose and jutting chin. The unorthodox features were at odds with her bubbly personality and rounded figure. “Are we talking revenge?” Allie’s eyes glinted. She may have been Zack’s champion, but she was also an inveterate prankster. “Hmm. Well. Gee. Maybe one nasty turn does deserve another.”