be still, couldn’t stay in one place. One little puff of wind and he was gone.
He’d proved that, hadn’t he? A little over two months ago, when he left her.
She wasn’t here to contemplate past follies, she reminded herself, and trained the beam from her high-powered torch on the wiring she’d just finished redoing. It looked fine. The damned beam was trembling, though. So was Annie’s hand. She scowled and shut the torch off. “All done here,” she said, and started down the ladder.
“I appreciate you coming out to fix this so promptly.” Annie’s former teacher held the ladder for her until Annie had her feet once more on the ground. “Give me a moment to find my checkbook, and I’ll pay you for your time. Though I still don’t understand why you’re doing handyman work instead of teaching.”
“Mrs. P—”
“Never mind.” She patted Annie’s shoulder. “I promised not to nag, and I won’t.”
While Mrs. Perez went in search of her checkbook, Annie made out her bill on the kitchen table. She was determined not to let herself start brooding over past mistakes or her current lack of direction. She’d done too much of that already. After years of working determinedly toward one goal, taking step after difficult step along the path she’d set for herself—a path she had chosen in part because of the woman whose wiring she had just fixed—it had been more than upsetting to learn she’d been wrong about her life’s work. It had shaken her world.
Which was how she’d ended up making the second big mistake of her life.
Annie shook her head. She was not going to think about Jack. She wasn’t going to speculate about why he was here, or what he intended to do. With Jack, she assured herself as she tore off the bill, speculation was pointless.
Mrs. Perez’s voice came to her from the back of the house. “Why do you suppose Jack Merriman is in town?”
Of course, it was hard to put him out of her mind when people insisted on talking about him. “Who knows? Jack’s reasons don’t always make sense to normal people.”
“He didn’t return for his aunt’s funeral.”
“He was in Borneo, for heaven’s sake. I’m sure he would have been here if he could have made it in time.” She bit her lip, annoyed at the way she’d automatically defended Jack—and that she’d given away her knowledge of his whereabouts.
“Here it is!” Mrs. Perez returned, waving her checkbook triumphantly. “Ida was hoping Jack might have decided to move home for good. He owns that house now, after all.”
“I imagine he’ll sell it. Jack doesn’t need a house here, not when his job takes him all over the world.” Which was just how he liked his life to be—in motion. Annie held out the bill. “Here you go, Mrs. P. You let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
Mrs. Perez glanced at the bill, then fixed Annie with the steely look that had always made Annie confess to anything in high school. “This can’t be right.”
“Is it too high? Let me run the figures again.”
“Nonsense. You know very well you haven’t charged me enough.”
Annie also knew that Mrs. Perez’s husband had been in the hospital twice this year. She tried to look innocent. “Ah—senior citizens’ discount?”
Mrs. Perez charmed Annie by rolling her eyes. “Shall I tell all my age-disadvantaged friends that you will do their work for less than half the going rate, then?”
That might be a problem, given the current state of her bank account. “Age-disadvantaged?”
The old eyes twinkled. “Never mind. You’re a rascal, Annie, but a bighearted one.” She bent and wrote out the check. “Now, when you see that other rascal, you be sure and tell him I expect him to come visit me.” She cocked her head to one side, looking like a wrinkled sparrow. “You know, back when you and Jack were in high school I used to wonder if you two would make a match of it.”
Annie concentrated on tucking the check away neatly in a bank deposit pouch. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You were such good friends and you had so much in common, in spite of your differences…I suppose I thought you might be a good balance for each other. You’re so level-headed. Jack could use a touch of your caution.”
“Except that it usually worked the other way around,” Annie said dryly. “Just ask my brothers. Jack always could talk me into…” She flushed. That came too close to home. The last escapade Jack had talked her into had been a good deal more serious than the high school high jinks she and Jack and her brother Charlie had sometimes pulled.
Mrs. Perez looked at her over her glasses. “Perhaps you could use a touch of his impulsiveness, too.”
Definitely not. She’d proved how poorly acting on impulse worked for her. She started for the door. “Don’t let Ben hear you say that.”
Mrs. Perez followed, opening the door for her. “Ben means well, but brothers aren’t always realistic about their little sisters. And you’ve always possessed a surfeit of brothers.”
She grinned, liking the phrase. Since she had three older brothers, it fit all too well. “You do have a way with words, Mrs. P. How would you say that in Spanish?”
“Una plaga testosterone,” the older woman replied promptly.
A testosterone plague? Annie laughed and took her leave. She was still grinning as she climbed into her Bronco. The first thing she did was check her to-do list and cross off Mrs. P.’s job.
Jack was back.
There was no point in writing that down. She wasn’t going to forget, and nothing Jack Merriman was likely to do would fit neatly on any list.
Though it was only September, the air had a bite to it. She shrugged into her jacket so she could leave her window down. Annie liked to feel connected to the world around her—to the quiet bustle of her hometown, and to the wild and rugged peaks surrounding it. The air streaming in her window was spiced with pine and juniper, sharpened by a hint of ozone. Breathing in the familiar mingling of scents comforted her.
Whatever mistakes she might have made, coming home to Highpoint wasn’t one of them. The big city hadn’t been right. Not for her.
It was late afternoon. Thunderheads building to the north had darkened the sky, making the air dreamy with dusk. Annie took note of the storm that was headed their way and smiled. She had a fondness for storms.
As she turned onto Main, her cell phone rang. She crossed her fingers as she thumbed the connect button, hoping it was someone calling about work.
It wasn’t.
“What the hell is Jack Merriman doing back in town?” her oldest brother’s voice growled in her ear. “And why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Gosh, Ben, I wish you’d quit beating around the bush,” she said dryly. “Just come out and say what’s on your mind.”
That low, rumbling noise was
