but primarily, she thought it was because her dreams had been born here. They had died here, too, yet somehow, strangely, that had only strengthened her bond. Right now she existed somewhere between hope and devastation, unable to believe in a future here, but also unable to give up on it.
And—she even hated to admit this to herself—she couldn’t quite dispel the feeling that her mother clung to her. Not physically, of course, not with any apparent emotional dependency, but sometimes Rosie heard something in her voice, saw something in her eyes that recalled a long-ago past when things had been different.
Every time it happened, Rosie would chase the memory only to come to a dead end. Then she would tell herself she’d been imagining things, that she and her mother had never been that close. But that look in her mother’s eyes said things Rosie felt, rather than remembered, and she couldn’t quite dismiss it.
So she had to stay. At least for a while. At least until Gillian Howe of the Runway Boutique got serious about adding wedding dresses to her shop in Springfield just a few miles across the Connecticut River and bought Rosie out.
Then, with money in hand to plan the future, Rosie could think about whether it would be worth it to leave the place where she really wanted to be, to find the woman she really was.
“YO! MATT!”
The frantic sound of a woman’s voice was followed by loud rapping on the darkroom door.
“We’re developing!” Shorty shouted as he washed the contact sheet. “Don’t come in, Jenny!”
Matt DeMarco looked over Shorty’s shoulder as the faces of children at a local science fair began to materialize into the neat little squares of the contact sheet that represented every frame on the roll of film. He was fairly sure the Sacramento Sentinel was the only newspaper in the West that still developed film in a darkroom. Shorty and technology didn’t get along.
“I need Matt!” Jenny shouted.
“Control yourself, woman!” Shorty hung the contact sheet by a clothespin to an overhead line. He pointed a pen to one particular shot, as usual picking out the best one on the roll. It wasn’t showy or necessarily dramatic, but a ten-year-old boy’s excitement in his science experiment shone from a pair of dark blue eyes. “That’s it, Matt. Discovery. Pride. How do you always manage to find the definitive face?”
“I don’t find it, Shorty. I just shoot what’s there.”
“Come, now. When you have a fifty-thousand-dollar advance in your pocket, there’s no need to be modest.”
“Ma-att! I need you! There’s a fire at Hudson’s Department Store! Top floor completely engulfed!”
“Too bad,” Shorty said as Matt snatched his camera off the stainless-steel table. “I thought she just wanted you for a quickie in the news van.”
Matt reached for film in an overhead cabinet and headed for the door. “Well, I can always dream,” he said with a chuckle, opening the door to a small hallway.
“Come on, Matt, let’s go!” Jenny Morrow grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him down a corridor to the back door and the newspaper’s parking lot. Matt marveled at her energy. She was out-of-control enthusiasm and mouth.
She was also very beautiful, glossy brown hair flying as she ran toward her Honda.
Matt peeled off toward his Mustang, unlocking the door with the remote as he approached.
She finally realized he’d taken off in another direction and raced to follow. “Why don’t I ever get to drive?” she asked, catching up with him. She climbed into the passenger seat as he got in behind the wheel.
The Mustang did zero to sixty in five seconds, shooting out of the parking lot like a thumbed rubber band. It wasn’t as though the fire would be out before they got there, but he always wondered what he was missing while he was still on his way.
“You have a tendency to drive where other cars are parked.” He braked at the corner and cast her a grinning glance before looking quickly left, then right.
“One time! I hit a parked car one time!”
“It was a police car.”
She groaned. “The cop forgave me. Isn’t it time you did?”
“It was embarrassing.”
“Oh, get over yourself. It’s time you trusted me.” She put commands into her laptop even as she spoke to him and helped him watch for a break in the traffic. “We’ve been on stakeouts together, we’ve barfed at traffic accidents, we’ve lied our way out of tight spots, we’ve cried together…”
“When?”
“That story on the children’s wing of the hospital. Remember? The little girl with—”
“Oh, yeah.” He raised a hand to silence her. Somehow that little girl fighting lymphoma had reminded him of his own child, who’d never even lived to see the light of day. “I remember.”
The road clear, he sped off, as much to escape the memory as to take advantage of the opening in traffic. “I’m an important photojournalist now.” He faked an imperious air. “I have an image to protect.”
Jenny made a scornful sound. “Well, unfortunately for you, my mother believes that. You’re invited to dinner again next weekend.”
Jenny’s mother had designs on him for her daughter. She tried to be subtle about it and failed miserably. Matt and Jenny smiled at her matchmaking efforts, knowing that nothing more than friendship was possible between them. Matt was too reserved for Jenny, and her hyper behavior made him crazy.
He made the turn toward the department store. Smoke and flaming cinders filled the air. She pointed ahead. “There’s the police barricade.” He pulled over to park.
“Notice how I did that without hitting anything?” he said.
She punched him in the arm.
In the next block fire trucks and hoses were entangled in the street and a crowd of people had gathered to watch the flames. “Please offer your mom my apologies,” he said, reaching for his camera, “But I can’t go. I’m leaving tomorrow for my sister-in-law’s wedding.”
Jenny frowned at him. “You mean, the dragon’s sister is getting married?”
“Who said she was a dragon?”
“Aren’t exes always dragons?”
“I don’t know. Rosie’s the only ex I have, and she’s more of a…” What? he wondered. What described a woman who’d withdrawn so completely he could no longer reach her? “A turtle, I think.”
“You mean she moves slowly?”
“No.” He shook his head to end the discussion. She didn’t get it. But then, he’d been there, and he didn’t get it completely, either. He pushed his door open. “Come on before they put the damn thing out.”
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT
