a luau next Friday night and I need a head count. Call me back if you can make it, but do it before eight o’clock.” Another laugh. “It’s dollar movie night. We’re seeing an old Doris Day film. Love you! Bye.”
Still smiling, he ambled into the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich. His coupon-clipping foster mom loved a good bargain. Always had. One of the first lessons she’d taught him was, don’t squander your money or your talents. At the time, he didn’t have any money and he doubted he had talent, so the words hadn’t sunk in until at least a decade later.
Jace stared at his reflection in the dark window, his vision blurring as the film strip in his mind rolled back ten years, then twenty…then twenty-four. Images appeared. And suddenly he was twelve years old again and watching nervously for his mother to come back, his hands cupped on another dark window.
Jillie Rae had dropped them off early that morning, saying she was going job hunting and she’d see them around lunchtime. But it was nearly ten o’clock when the phone at old Mrs. Conrad’s place finally rang. Scrambling from the glass, he and Ty had stood in the living room of her neat-as-a-pin trailer like proper soldiers, waiting for word that Jillie was on her way.
Mrs. Conrad’s shocked voice cut like a laser through Jace’s consciousness. “What do you mean, you’re not coming back? I can’t take care of these kids! I have a heart condition!” Then she’d become angry. “Jillie Rae, you get back here right now. Just clean up your act and catch the next bus home. You brought these children into the world, and they’re your responsibility. You need to do right by them!”
Then Ty had started to cry, and Jace had held him and told him it would be okay. Jillie’d come for them. But after Ty finally fell asleep, curled against him on Mrs. Conrad’s studio couch, Jace had cried, too, because he was afraid he’d lied. No matter what kind of mother she’d been, no matter that she sometimes passed herself off as their older sister and she wanted them to call her Jillie Rae, she was all they’d had and they’d loved her.
The next day, they’d met a woman from Children’s Services and a few hours after that, they’d moved into the Parrish’s home on Calendar Street. Betty and Carl had opened their arms to them, and in the process, saved their lives.
They’d never seen Jillie again.
The hum of an engine broke his thoughts. Feeling a quick shot of adrenaline, Jace strode to the front door and looked out. But it wasn’t Abbie’s SUV. It was Ty’s dark gray Silverado. Moments later, his brother was stamping snow from his feet and coming inside.
“Hey,” he called.
“Hey, yourself,” Jace answered stepping back. “Thought you were hanging out at Candy’s tonight. I was there for a few minutes around six, but I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah, I know. I got tied up.”
Jace raised a dubious brow. “A little early in the evening for that sort of thing, isn’t it?”
Blue eyes twinkling, Ty slipped off his gray vest and tossed it through the archway to land on Jace’s brown leather sofa. “It’s never too early. Unfortunately, this kind of tie-up wasn’t that much fun.”
“Oh? Where were you?”
“The hospital. I wanted to talk to Arnie.”
The mood in the room sobered. “Think that was wise?” Jace asked.
“You phoned him,” Ty pointed out.
“A phone call’s not a visit. We’re supposed to steer clear of Arnie. The bloodsucking lawyers are doing the talking.”
“I know, but we’ve known Arnie for a long time, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.” Ty inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Got any coffee made?”
Hoping Ty’s visit hadn’t done more harm than good, Jace started walking. “No, but it’ll only take a minute to make some.”
“Good. Because we need to talk, and I think better with a mug in my hand.”
Minutes later they were standing across from each other at the kitchen bar, ignoring the leather stools, and listening to the spit and splash of coffee brewing on the adjacent countertop.
After height, similar facial structure and the requisite jeans and boots, people had to look hard to see that they were related. Ty’s hair was as thick as Jace’s, but it was medium brown, not black, and his eyes were the deep blue women loved. But then, women loved everything about his little brother, and Ty felt the same about them. Short, tall, blond, brunette, he enjoyed them all. But he’d never had a serious relationship in his life.
Then again, neither had he, Jace admitted. Not one that had been totally reciprocated. In that way, he and Ty were like their mother. All flings, no strings.
“I don’t think this lawsuit is Arnie’s idea,” Ty began. “I think it’s his wife’s. Callie’s a nice woman, but they’ve got four kids and I think she’s worried that Arnie’ll never work again.”
Jace nodded gravely. He and Ty understood the need for security more than most people did. Financial and emotional. “She could be right.” The tree that put Arnie in the hospital had done enough damage to his leg that it would be a minor miracle if he was able to walk again without a cane.
“I’ve been giving that some thought, though,” Jace continued. “If he can’t log anymore, we’ll find something else for him.”
“Not the sawmill. Callie’d never go for that, even with all the safeguards.” Leaving the bar, Ty went to the refrigerator to rummage around. When he returned, he was balancing assorted packages of deli cold cuts, cheese and spicy mustard on his arm. “Want a sandwich?”
“No, you go ahead.” He wasn’t hungry anymore. Now, he just wanted this thing with Arnie Flagg settled in a way that benefited all of them, and he wanted Abbie Winslow to get the hell out of his mind. He could still see her staring through that open window, her hair lifting in the wind and her dark eyes serious.
Ty pulled a loaf of sliced rye from the bread drawer. “By the way, I passed a dark-colored Ford Expedition about a half mile up the road. Looked like our favorite banker’s ride.”
Jace shot a glance at him, wondering if Ty was fishing. “It was.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I’m not.”
Eyes brimming with interest, Ty pulled a plate from the cupboard. “So, what did Morgan want? Another opportunity to toss around a few insults? A pint of your blood?” He grinned suddenly. “Or did he just drop by to tell you to keep your nasty Rogan lips off his daughter?”
“None of the above,” Jace returned dryly. “It wasn’t him. It was her.”
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