Sucker Punch Page 2

  Jawarski’s smile dimmed. “You don’t want it?”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I might want to talk about this first? In private?”

  “Whoa! Hold on. Relax, slick. It’s not what you think.”

  He tossed the key onto the counter where it clattered, metal on glass. “I have to leave town for a couple of weeks. I just came by to ask if you’d mind taking in my mail while I’m gone.”

  Embarrassment came hard on the heels of anger, and I shot Karen a look that might have killed a weaker woman. “Your mail?”

  “Yeah. Do you mind? I can put in a delivery hold at the post office if you don’t want to.”

  I waved away his last suggestion and managed a thin smile. “Don’t be silly. Of course I can take in your mail. Is that all?”

  He shrugged. “No plants. No pets.” As if I didn’t know that already. “Mail’s it.”

  I tucked the key into my pocket and tried for a genuine smile this time. “That should be easy enough. When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning.” He eyed me cautiously, as if he expected me to wig out or something. “I know it’s short notice, but it’s really a last-minute thing.”

  This is the beauty of an uncommitted relationship, I told myself. There’s no pressure. One partner can flit off at a moment’s notice and the other one is just fine with it. No drama. No hysterics. No jealousy. I shot an I-told-you-so look at Karen and practically beamed at Jawarski. “I think it sounds wonderful. Where are you going?”

  “Montana. Ridge’s birthday is next week, and Bree called last night to suggest I come up there. She thought I might like to spend some time with the kids.”

  All those ugly insecurities bashed me, and my smile grew brittle. One whack with a kitchen mallet and it would have shattered into a hundred pieces. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t begrudge him a visit with his kids. But the one time I’d met Cheyenne and Ridge had been a total disaster. He wasn’t ready for me to be part of their lives, so every time he slipped into dad mode, I was left out. Some day I might become a part of their special triumvirate, but I wasn’t yet.

  But that wasn’t what made my nerve endings tingle. Somewhere along the way I’d developed a case of ex-wife-itis—probably because Jawarski mentioned his ex so rarely, I was never certain where things stood between them.

  It was hard to ignore the smug look Karen flung at me, but I did my best. “The trip was your ex-wife’s idea?”

  Jawarski nodded as if dropping everything to accept an invitation from the ex was the most natural thing in the world. “I haven’t seen the kids in a few months, and I have a couple of weeks of vacation saved up.”

  Jealous girlfriend questions rose in my throat, but I bit them all back. My reaction had nothing to do with Jawarski and everything to do with Roger. Karen’s earlier comments had just made me more susceptible to doubt, that’s all.

  “What a great idea,” I said, trying very hard to mean it. “I’ll bet the kids are excited.”

  Jawarski smiled, relief evident in every line on his face. “They seem to be.”

  See? We were fine. And Jawarski leaving for two weeks should prove, even to Karen, that there are some couples who are just fine without hearts and flowers . . . and even candy.

  Apparently satisfied that I wasn’t angry with him, Jawarski leaned across the counter and kissed me briefly. “Listen, I’ve gotta run. There’s some kind of trouble over at the theater and I need to check on it. But I’ll call you while I’m gone. And I should be back by Valentine’s Day, so think about what you want to do that night.” He walked backward for a couple of steps and spread his arms wide. “I’m all yours, babe. Just name it.”

  Babe?

  It was a good thing he left when he did, because if I’d named it right then, we’d probably both have been sorry.

  The door had barely closed behind Jawarski when the bell tinkled to signal another customer. We get a fair amount of walk-in traffic since we’re situated in a prime location, one I could never afford if I were trying to set up a business today. Paradise is growing rapidly, and in the tourist season we get a lot of spillover from Aspen and Vail. So it’s not unusual for someone I don’t recognize to walk into Divinity.

  It is unusual for that someone to be barking into a cell phone so intently he doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s walking. The customer, a twig of a man with reddish hair and hard blue eyes, plowed into a display table loaded with old-fashioned candy sticks and sent half of them crashing to the floor. He glared at them as if they’d bashed into him and shifted his cell phone to his other ear.

  “No, no, no. I said today. It has to be here today. Which part of that word do you have trouble understanding?”

  Karen was still busy with the boxes and Liberty wasn’t in yet, so guess who got to wait on him. Lucky me.

  I pasted on a bland smile—the best I could do considering what he’d just done to half my stock of candy sticks—and waited for him to acknowledge me. He plowed across the mess he’d made, crunching candy underfoot. I swear, I could smell money burning.

  “If you can’t do it, say so now,” he snarled into his phone. “I’ll find someone who can.” An ugly smile curved his thin lips as he listened to the response. “That’s what I thought. The Summit Lodge, no later than five. Got that?” He snapped his phone shut and fixed his hard little eyes on me. “How soon can you deliver a two-pound box of candy across town?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, making my best effort to look sincere, “but delivery isn’t one of our services.” Unless you placed a really big special order or I liked you. Which left this guy out in the cold. “We do offer gift wrapping though, and you can handpick the chocolates you want to include in your selection.”

  He wagged his narrow head from side to side and let out his breath in an irritated huff. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? What kind of Podunk town is this? Do you know who I am?”

  I was pretty sure he wouldn’t like my answer to either question, so I ignored them both and gave up trying to smile. “If you need something delivered, maybe you should—”

  Before I could finish, Karen bolted through the door and nudged me out of the way. “Of course we’ll deliver your order, but depending on where you want it delivered, we may have to charge a small delivery fee.”

  He shot me a haughty look and pulled out his wallet. “Money’s not the issue. Time is. You ought to teach your girl here a thing or two about customer satisfaction.”

  “Her girl?” Furious, I nudged Karen out of the way. “Now you listen here—”

  Karen locked eyes with me. “Why don’t I help the gentleman so you can get back to the kitchen?”

  An indignant refusal rose to my lips, but I swallowed it and turned away. I’d have loved to order him out of the store and tell him what he could do with his money, but maybe Karen was right. I wasn’t in the best mood. Maybe I should let her handle the situation.

  Leaving Karen with Mr. Personality, I pulled sugar, corn syrup, and flavor oils from the cupboards and dug out my large copper kettle. A few months ago I’d run through Divinity’s sales records for the past five years and I’d created a game plan for what to make when so we could get through the holiday season with relative ease. Today’s schedule called for ten dozen red rose lollipops in assorted flavors and two batches of cherry divinity. If I didn’t get started soon, I’d still be pouring syrup into molds at midnight.

  A few minutes later Liberty blew into the kitchen, oohing and aahing over the decorations as she shed her coat and tucked her purse into a drawer. “This is so exciting!” she said, clapping her hands in delight. “It looks even better in the daylight than it did last night. What do you think, Abby? Isn’t it great?”

  Usually, I’m a stickler for the truth, but I knew what Karen would do if I told Liberty to pull everything down, so I kept my eyes on the pan and said only, “You two certainly were busy.”

  “I know. It took us forever to do it all, but if you’re happy, the
n it was worth it.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? The argument over the decorations was between Karen and me. It wouldn’t be fair to put Liberty in the middle. Luckily, another customer came into the shop and Liberty hurried away to help her before the silence dragged out too long.

  I spent the next few minutes taking out my frustrations on the thick mixture of sugar and syrup with a wooden spoon. When the bell jangled again, I glanced up just in time to see Mr. Personality leave.

  Don’t let the door hit ya—

  Karen finished up at the cash register and turned to look over the half wall that separated the shop from the kitchen. “Do you know who that was?”

  “No, and I don’t care either. He was rude and obnoxious.”

  Karen tilted her head to one side, a silent acknowledgment that I had a point. At least she gave me that.

  “So who was he?”

  “His name is Geoffrey Manwaring, and he’s Laurence Nichols’s manager.”

  Okay, she had my attention. Laurence Nichols is to Colorado what Donny Osmond is to Utah. Without the brood of siblings. Or the teeth. Or the Mormon background. Laurence started out in Paradise as a kid, and the folks around here practically idolize him. I have to admit, I was a little starstruck, myself. But only a little.

  “That doesn’t excuse the way he acted. Why would Laurence Nichols keep such an annoying person on his payroll?”

  “Probably because he can get things done. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  I snorted a laugh. “I could have made him.”

  “I’m sure you could have, but that wouldn’t have been the best move for Divinity.”

  “Neither is pandering to awful people.”

  “He wanted a box of chocolates delivered,” Karen said, growing impatient with me. “Was that so awful?”

  “He called me your girl,” I reminded her. “And yes, it was awful. If we deliver for him, we’re going to have to deliver for everyone who flashes a little cash or thinks they’re special. It’s setting a bad precedent, one we can’t afford.”

  “We already deliver under special circumstances,” Karen said, coming into the kitchen and lowering her voice so it wouldn’t carry. “You just didn’t want to deliver for him because he was rude.”

  “Bingo!”

  “Well, relax. I’ll have Liberty make the delivery so you won’t even have to think about it again. Meanwhile, we made a nice sale and we can now say that Laurence Nichols is a customer.”

  I glanced at her sharply. “They were for Laurence?”

  “Yes they were. A nice gift from Laurence to a woman who lives right here in Paradise. If he’s happy with our service, maybe he’ll order more. Can you imagine what it would do for the store if he bought Valentine’s Day candy from us?”

  I had to admit, he’d make a nice addition to our client list. “As long as I don’t have to deal with Mr. Manhandle,” I bargained.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Karen sketched an X across her chest. “I promise, you never have to see Geoffrey Manwaring again if you don’t want to.”

  She had good reason to grin. So far, the score was Karen 2, Abby 0, and all I could do was hope the worst was over.

  Chapter 3

  We had a rush of customers after Manwaring left, and we all stayed busy for the next several hours. I didn’t have a chance to think about anything but rose-shaped lollipops and cherry divinity until Vonetta Cummings strolled into the shop with Paisley Pringle on her heels late in the afternoon.

  Liberty had left a few minutes earlier to deliver Manwaring’s order, and the shop was crowded with teenage girls making plans for the Sweetheart Ball that weekend, but they seemed to be shopping in a pack and Karen had taken charge.

  Vonetta stood out from the crowd for several reasons. First, she’s tall, slim, and regal and the rest of our customers were mostly short and giggly. She’s also closer to sixty than sixteen.

  She wore a long chocolate-colored coat and boots. Paired with matching leopard print hat, scarf, and gloves she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She’s the only woman I know who can wear that much animal print and not look overblown.

  Vonetta has been manager of the Paradise Playhouse for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always admired her. Even when I was a girl and African Americans were rare in Paradise, she dressed to celebrate her heritage. Her choices might not seem remarkable now, but in those days her wardrobe created quite a stir. Back then, Paradise wasn’t known for its forward thinking.

  Paisley, on the other hand, dresses like most of us—jeans, old sweater stuffed under last year’s ski jacket, feet laced into an inexpensive pair of black igloo boots. She owns the local beauty shop and changes her hairstyle at least once a month. February’s choice: a sleek mop of burgundy curls that spilled into her eyes every time she moved.

  I was happy to see Vonetta. Paisley, not so much.

  I finished ringing up the customer I’d been helping, then let myself out from behind the counter and found them looking at the one-pound milk chocolate assortment. I nodded at Paisley and told Vonetta, “We have some of those marshmallow caramels you like in the alcove if you’re interested.”

  Vonetta looked up with a warm smile. “I’ll definitely pick up a box. How are you, Abby?”

  “Fine. We’ve been swamped all day, but that’s good. How about you?”

  Vonetta pulled off her gloves and slipped them into her coat pocket. “Busy. We’re starting a new production this week.”

  We? As in Vonetta and Paisley? When had that happened? It’s not that I dislike Paisley. Or that I think she’s incompetent. She’s been running the Curl Up and Dye successfully for years. But there’s something about her that just rubs me the wrong way.

  I tried not to let my reaction show. “Does this mean you’re involved in the theater now?” I asked her.

  Paisley nodded and dark red curls bounced across her forehead. “I’m Vonetta’s assistant. Just part-time, of course. In the evenings. Because of the salon. But it’s so exciting. I just love it.”

  “We’re giving it a try,” Vonetta clarified, but the almost maternal glance she sent Paisley erased any hint of rebuke. “If things work out with this production, we’ll talk about something permanent.”

  “Oh. Sure. Sounds great.” Okay, yeah, I was a little envious. I’d been in one production at the Playhouse, and that was almost twenty-five years ago. But I’d been friends with Vonetta’s daughter, Serena, and I’d spent hours hanging out with her at the Playhouse watching the companies put their performances together. Apparently, I still felt a proprietary interest in what happened there.

  I shoved the envy aside and said, “I heard there was some trouble over your way this morning. Anything serious?”

  Vonetta’s smile faded slightly. “Thankfully, no. Just a bit of youthful exuberance. A member of the stage crew tied one on last night and forgot to sleep it off before he came to work. He didn’t like being told to go home.” She shook her head indulgently. “Life in the theater is never dull. But your handsome young policeman showed up and set everything to rights.”

  I still felt a brief jolt whenever someone referred to Jawarski as “mine,” but I was learning not to flinch when they did. “I’m glad to hear it. What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll take the caramels,” Vonetta said, “but we didn’t come in to shop. I’m here to talk with you about the play.”

  I’d been placing ads in the playbills almost as long as I’d been owner of Divinity, so I assured her, “I’ll take a quarter page. Do you need the check today?”

  Vonetta shook her head. “Drop it off any time in the next couple of weeks.” She glanced at the small seating area in the center of the shop. A handful of girls had taken over two of the wrought-iron tables, but the third was unoccupied. “Do you mind if we sit for a minute? Do you have time?”

  “Sounds serious,” I said with a grin. “Sure. I can take a quick break.” While Vonetta and Paisley dealt
with coats, gloves, and scarves, I rounded up a spare chair and carried it to the table. “So? What’s going on?”

  “I need your help,” Vonetta said. “I’m here to ask a favor, and I hope you’ll say yes.”

  “I will if I can,” I promised. “What do you need?”

  “We’re doing a musical comedy. A fun new piece from a playwright in Utah.” She looked me square in the eye and added, “This play is important to me. It’s important to the reputation of the Playhouse, and I want to make sure I have people I can rely on in the cast and crew.”

  She looked so serious, I laughed uneasily. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I want you in the cast. And don’t tell me you aren’t interested because I know better. As for talent, you’ve acted before, so I know you can do it.”

  I bleated another uneasy laugh. “Nothing like cutting my arguments off at the knees.” Sure, I’d nursed dreams of becoming a great actress once upon a time, but that was a dream for another lifetime. Besides, although I’m not one to carry a grudge, I hadn’t forgotten that Vonetta had cast me as one of the nameless, faceless wives of the King of Siam while propelling Chrissie Montague into the spotlight with the dancer position I’d wanted. “I’m sorry, Vonetta, but The King and I was both my debut and my swan song.”

  The girls at the other tables roared with laughter over something. Paisley leaned closer and almost shouted, “Don’t say no. It’s going to be a blast.”

  “I’m sure it will be, but I really have to pass. It’s not that I don’t want to help, just ask me something else. Something I can actually do. Why are you casting, anyway?” I asked Vonetta. “Don’t tell me you’re directing?”

  “I haven’t directed in years,” she said. “I don’t have the energy to produce and take on other jobs anymore, but I’m making an exception this time. Alexander Pastorelli has agreed to direct, but he doesn’t do his own casting.”

  I knew the name, of course. I think just about everyone in the tri-peaks area did. Like Laurence Nichols, he’s a local celebrity, and recently his star had risen high enough to catch the attention of a producer with connections to Broadway. If I remembered my trivia right, Laurence and Alexander had even started out at the same time. I wondered whether there was a connection between Vonetta’s play and Laurence Nichols’s visit to Paradise, or if it was just a coincidence.