she said regretfully, “but, yeah, I guess we have a deal.”
J.C. watched her leave his office and prayed he’d done the right thing. If she’d seemed even a tiny bit depressed, he wouldn’t have given her the leeway to work this out for herself. He’d have been all over it. Misty struck him as a kid who just needed a bit of a shove to solve this problem for herself. And, in his experience, the sense of empowerment that came from that could go a long way toward healing whatever issues a teen might be facing.
He’d just spend the next twenty-four hours praying his instincts in this instance had been right.
2
Since he’d sworn off dating, J.C. tended to spend a portion of most evenings at Fit for Anything, the new gym for men that had just opened in town. An hour-long workout before he headed home for dinner constituted what passed for his sorry social life most of the time.
It was a lot easier to pretend working out was a good substitute for dating in this environment than it had been at Dexter’s. Nobody had wanted to spend a minute longer than necessary in that dump. Here, he could even grab a bite to eat before heading home, and since the healthy food selections were supplied by Sullivan’s, one of the region’s best restaurants, they weren’t half bad.
Though it had taken a while because of his working partnership with Bill Townsend—a pariah with some people since his very messy divorce from Maddie a number of years ago—J.C. had eventually become friendly with Cal Maddox, Ronnie Sullivan and a few of the other men involved with the gym. As long as he left Bill out of the conversation, they seemed to get along just fine.
Tonight he found Cal here, just finishing up his own workout.
“You’re late,” Cal noted. “Don’t tell me you finally asked some woman out for coffee and broke the hearts of all the matchmakers in Serenity.”
J.C. chuckled. “Sadly, no. I had an unexpected after-hours visit from a patient.”
Cal immediately looked concerned. “An emergency? Was it a kid I might know?”
Though he wasn’t about to violate Misty’s confidence, he wondered if Cal would have any insights about what might be going on to make her dislike school so much she wanted to quit. “Do you know Misty Dawson?” he asked.
The look on Cal’s face was answer enough.
“You do,” J.C. concluded. “Any idea what’s going on with her?”
“No, but you’re the second person today who’s expressed real concern about her. What did she tell you?” Cal asked, then instantly waved off the question. “Sorry, I know you can’t say anything. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay. Actually, knowing that I’m not the only one who’s worried is reassuring. If enough adults are paying attention, hopefully we’ll figure this out and get things back on track. From everything I know, she’s a bright girl with great potential.”
“Laura Reed, Misty’s English teacher, is all over it,” Cal assured him. “I’m looking into a couple of things myself.”
“Good to know,” J.C. said, relieved. “Has anyone spoken to her parents?”
Cal shook his head. “Laura’s trying to dig a little deeper and figure out what’s going on before she stirs things up by going to either her parents or the principal. Want me to have her give you a call, let you know if she finds out anything?”
“Absolutely,” J.C. said. “And I’ll get back to you or to her, if I come up with any answers.”
Cal nodded. “I know living in a small town can have its drawbacks, but in situations like this, I see all the advantages. People genuinely care. They get involved. It’s a great environment for raising kids.”
J.C. grinned. “So there is a positive side to all that meddling, after all.”
Cal laughed. “That’s the way I see it, anyway.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get home. Maddie’s probably hit a wall and is ready for backup with handling the little kids’ baths by now, and then I have some sleuthing to do with my stepdaughter.”
“Good luck with that,” J.C. said sincerely. He knew better than most what it was like trying to get information from a teenager. From what he’d observed, they were better at protecting their sources than any experienced journalist had ever been.
* * *
Laura had been feeling restless ever since her talk with Cal and Nancy and her failure to track down Misty before school let out. Over time she’d found that the two best solutions for this kind of mood were ice cream or what she liked to think of as shopping therapy. And she had a coupon in her purse for Raylene Rollins’s boutique on Main Street that might satisfy at least one urge. If a shopping splurge didn’t pan out, Wharton’s was just across the town green and had the best hot-fudge sundaes around.
Inside the store, which was known for its smart fashions, she headed straight for the sale rack. On a teacher’s salary, full price was out of the question.
“Looking for something special?” Adelia Hernandez asked her as Laura checked out what was available in a size eight. “Or are you just browsing, hoping for a great deal?”
Laura grinned. “You know me too well, Adelia. I can’t resist a bargain, and I have a coupon from the paper burning a hole in my purse.”
“Then let’s find something to spend it on,” Adelia said eagerly. “A pretty date dress, maybe?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I can’t even remember the last time I had a date that required anything fancier than jeans.”
Even though she’d been drawn to teaching in a small town much like the one she’d grown up in halfway across the country, she’d suspected the lack of social life would be one of the disadvantages. At the time, fresh out of college and still deeply scarred by her first great love back in high school and its disastrous outcome, having a social life hadn’t really mattered to her. These days, though, she was coming to regret the serious lack of available professional men. The men who asked her out, while perfectly nice, were, for the most part, not intellectually stimulating.
“You’re obviously looking in all the wrong places,” Adelia said, though even as she spoke, her expression turned rueful. “Not that I’d know. I only have one toe into the divorce process. Dating is way, way down the road, somewhere past never, for me.”
“I was sorry to hear about your marriage breaking up,” Laura said carefully, eager to change the subject but not sure if she was being too personal with a woman she knew only casually.
Adelia gave her a wry look. “But not surprised? I know everyone in town was aware that Ernesto was cheating on me, but they were all too polite to say anything.”
“I’m not sure there’s a good way to broach that particular subject,” Laura told her. “What do you say, ‘Hi, how are you? By the way I spotted your husband out with someone else last night.’”
Adelia chuckled. “You’re right. I doubt Emily Post covered anything quite like that in her etiquette books.”
“At least
