Jeanie London – Then There Were Three (страница 9)

“Your parents?”

“No, a hotel, I think.” Her plate was brimming at the moment without heaping her parents on. She’d visit, of course, wouldn’t feel right about being in town and not seeing them. But only after she got things settled with Violet and Nic. So much was up in the air right now, and she didn’t have a clue what sort of working situation they’d come up with, couldn’t even begin to formulate a plan until she got a hold of her runaway. “Someplace central so it’s convenient to get around.”

Violet would want to see and do everything, and that would likely start with spending time with her father. Megan wondered how much time Nic would make for her.

“How long can you stay?” he asked.

“As long as it takes,” she answered honestly. “I’m afraid I don’t have a clue what Violet has in mind. And it’s only fair to give you a chance to wrap your brain around this and figure out what you want, too.”

He inclined his head, so solemn. “What about work and school?”

“School won’t be too much of a problem. Violet takes several online classes, so they won’t be an issue. I’ll talk to the school about the rest. Her teachers will make her work available so she can keep up. And the timing isn’t so bad for work, either. I’m on the tail end of a project, so everyone’s trained and functioning independently. If anything comes up, I should be able to solve any problems long distance.”

“Violet said you consulted for nonprofit organizations. She didn’t seem too clear on the details.”

“Pretty much what it sounds like—I set up their organizational structures and help them get established and operational.”

He fished a key from his pocket as they arrived at the lockers. Scanning the rows, he found what he was looking for on the bottom.

Good girl, Megan thought. Violet had remembered to store her bag on the floor rather than at eye level or overhead where thieves were more inclined to break in. Nice to know her daughter paid attention sometimes.

Nic opened the locker and slid out a duffel bag in a familiar shade of neon-green. “I thought you must have gotten a helluva deal on that suitcase, but I guess not. You actually chose this color.”

“Custom made. We paid a fortune,” she admitted. “But we travel so much it makes life easier at baggage claim.” She reached for her own bag. “I can take—”

Their fingers brushed as Nic reached for the handle at the same time. His warm fingertips connected with hers, a physical sensation. He jerked back as if shocked.

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll get this one.”

He headed toward the terminal exit, leaving Megan flush with the knowledge that he was as whacked about being together as she was. He had seemed like a stranger with his law enforcement poker face that concealed so much more than it revealed. But now she knew.

Seeing her was rattling him.

And she felt bad. Nic hadn’t caused this awkwardness. The last choice he’d had any control over had been when Violet had been conceived. The rest was on her head.

Following him in silence, she reasoned that the only thing she could do to ease the tension was buy this man some time to come to terms with all these changes.

He led her to an unmarked cruiser, stowed the gear in the backseat. Ever the gentleman, he held the door. Megan slipped in, and the silence stretched as he wheeled onto I-10 and headed toward town.

“I left Violet with my mother at her shop,” Nic finally said, as if the silence had been getting to him, too.

“She’s still doing hair?”

He nodded. “At her own place. Not the house.”

“Good for her,” she said. “She make out okay with Katrina?”

He shrugged. “Better than some—the damage was mostly on the lower level. We managed to keep her out of a FEMA trailer while we repaired the house. She had fun redecorating. What about your parents? Are they still in town?”

“Yes, thanks. They made out okay.” She gazed out the window at the passing city. Another stranger. “I was almost afraid to see what everything looked like. It’s totally different, but some things haven’t changed at all.”

“Looks a lot better than it did,” Nic agreed.

Megan could definitely see the changes. Lots of new construction in long-established neighborhoods. Easements with no landscaping. Vacant lots with weeds and not much else. But her hometown had character, and though there were still boarded-up windows on shop fronts, other places showed the strength of people determined to rebuild.

“We were living in Hat Yai at the time,” she said. “We didn’t get a lot of news coverage. But what we saw was so horrible. Took me days to track down my parents to make sure they’d gotten out okay.”

Of course, the real culprit hadn’t been spotty cell reception, but that her parents had changed cell carriers and Megan hadn’t had their new numbers. She didn’t share that information with Nic. Not when it was such a sad commentary on the health of that relationship.

By comparison, Nic’s family had seemed to have grown closer in the years since Megan had left, judging by the sign above the parking lot Nic drove into.

The large commercial property that housed Anthony DiLeo Automotive also was home to Angelina’s Salon and International Studio of Martial Arts, Damon DiLeo, sensei, on the upper story.

Nic was already scowling as he pulled right up in the handicap space, close enough to read a sign on the door that read Be Back Soon.

“Not good?” she asked.

“My mother must have closed the shop and taken Violet with her.”

Megan reached for her purse. “I can call—”

“They’re probably at the house.”

Without another word, he eased into traffic and took her to the house he’d grown up in. The DiLeo’s modest two-story was in a residential neighborhood in the Lower Garden District. The house and yard were well cared for with a colorful array of springtime blooms dripping over the fence. Cars crammed the driveway and overflowed onto the street, and while the house looked barely large enough to raise a family with six kids, it had a lived-in look and a friendly feel that still felt welcoming.

“Damn it.” Nic drove up on the curb without preamble and made a spot to park on the front lawn. “What is she doing? Throwing a block party?”

Megan didn’t know what was taking place inside that house and didn’t care as long as her daughter was among the guests. Megan had weathered the storm and now finally, finally, all the uncertainty of this nightmare, all the fear, all the guilt of facing her actions and putting on a good face for Nic came crashing in on her. Violet would be inside, and the most important part of this nightmare would be over. The rest she could handle, as long as her daughter was okay.

“You ready?” Nic asked.

She nodded. And then they were on their way inside a place that had been a forgotten memory. The decor may have changed, but the impression of Nic’s home remained the same.

A home filled with love and laughter.

A sort of numb disbelief took hold as Megan walked beside him. She knew exactly where he was heading—the kitchen at the rear of the house. They passed through the hall then the living room and…there she was.

Seated at the head of the table, Violet held court, alive and in one piece and not looking any worse for the trip.

She glanced up as if it was the most natural thing in the world to find Megan standing there. “Hey, Mom.”

As casual as if she’d arrived home from a friend’s house. As if the past few days had never been and she belonged in the family home of the father she hadn’t known existed in the entire time she’d been alive.

She hopped up with that long-legged grace Megan knew by heart. No longer her beautiful little girl, but an independent young woman, her own person, who thought for herself and knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to do what it took to get it.

Even if it meant running from one continent to another.

But none of that mattered right now. They were mother and daughter and came together as naturally as breathing. Violet slipped her arms around Megan’s waist and rested a cheek on her shoulder in a familiar hello.

And Megan held on.

No matter what had passed between them, the decisions, the mistakes, the tiny betrayals, love won out over all of them. Violet was as relieved to see her mom as Megan was to see her. She could feel it in those slender arms that held her close, hear it in the sweet voice that asked, “You okay, Mom?”

They were together and that was all that mattered. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations or accusations or anything but the only thing that was really important.

Violet was okay.

Megan pressed a kiss into her daughter’s hair. “I am now.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

NIC CAME TO A STOP IN the doorway. His life had suddenly become a YouTube video, loading jerkily into his brain, streaming only long enough to almost make sense of what he saw.

Violet. His daughter. She sat in the middle of his family. Anthony and his wife, Tess, each with a twin on their lap. Vince, still in dress pants and shirt, which meant he’d come straight from the hospital.

Damon was in the thick of things as usual, looking like a rebel with his long hair pulled in a ponytail, laughing it up as if he hadn’t kept everyone awake last night with his nonsense. Mom’s stylists were there, and a mechanic from Anthony’s garage, too.