A Path Less Traveled Page 16

  Trish scanned the pool area where Bo splashed around a giant mushroom fountain. “I actually think the temps are very comfortable.”

  “Want something to drink?”

  She thought about her dwindling cash. “No, thanks.” She’d need the money for gas to get home.

  “You didn’t eat lunch, and now you’re not thirsty? In this heat?”

  “I had a long drink at the water fountain not long ago.”

  When Delaine returned a few minutes later, Trish tried not to ogle the tall raspberry slushy, but instead monitored Bo’s movements.

  Her friend slurped through the straw. “I thought after we wore the kid out, I could hire a high school girl I know to watch him tonight while you and I hit the nightspots.”

  A wad of discomfort landed in her stomach. “Sorry, Delaine. I don’t leave Bo with people I don’t know.”

  “But I’ve already made plans to meet some friends.”

  “Go ahead and meet them. I’ll stay with Bo.”

  “But I invited you down for the weekend. I’d feel bad.”

  Trish waved a hand. “Please. I don’t mind if you spend time with your friends. That would give me time to enjoy that huge jetted swimming pool you call a bathtub.” And time to think about what she should do.

  Bo had enjoyed the trip—a five-year-old boy’s dream with pizza, video games, and a water park. Austin obviously offered more recreational activities than Miller’s Creek, and the drive through the state’s capitol proved its growing-metropolis status. There was new construction everywhere, and new construction meant plenty of business.

  And plenty of competition.

  * * * * *

  Trish awoke Sunday morning to scrumptious smells wafting from the kitchen. She padded down the hallway.

  Delaine was already dressed and made-up and buzzing around the room. “There you are, sleepyhead. I thought I got home early last night. It was only eleven o-clock and you and Bo were both sound asleep.”

  She raised groggy eyelids. Should she tell her they’d both gone to bed at nine? “You’re sure busy this morning. What’s going on?” Of course. It was Sunday. “Oh, church. I’ll get Bo dressed and ready.”

  Delaine laughed. “No, silly. I invited some friends over for brunch. They’ll be here in about an hour.”

  Panic snaked through her insides. Brunch? Friends? An hour!? Delaine was decked out in expensive designer Capri’s and a matching jacket. All she had was her jeans and t-shirts and the threadbare hausfrau dress she’d brought for church. “I wish you’d told me you were planning this, Delaine. I didn’t bring anything to wear.” Her words seeped the irritation she felt.

  She stopped in the middle of the kitchen, one hand on her hip as she eyed Trish up and down. “Hmm . . . you still wear size 8?”

  Trish nodded.

  “Relax. I have something that’ll look perfect on you. An outfit I bought last summer on my trip to Morocco.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Trish donned the outfit which hugged her figure like a surgeon’s glove. The cream color complimented her dark complexion, and the dainty beaded stiletto sandals provided the perfect finishing touch. Trish eyed her reflection and raised fingers to her cheeks. When was the last time she’d allowed herself to look so grown-up and sophisticated? Ever?

  As she made her way to the kitchen she checked in on Little Bo. He was dressed and sitting in front of the TV with the video controller. “Are you going to be okay in here by yourself?”

  He nodded in a game-induced trance.

  The guests began arriving a few minutes later, all friendly and full of chatter. The noise level in the room instantly quadrupled. Delaine tugged Trish in front of a well-dressed woman. “This is the lady I was telling you about. Francesca Giorelli. She owns her own design business in downtown Austin. Francesca, this is Trish James.”

  The woman, hair chopped short and eyes made-up big, held out a jewel-bedecked hand, an oversized silver bracelet dangling from her wrist. “So glad to meet you, Trish. I’m always on the lookout for new talent to add to the firm.”

  Her nerves on red alert, Trish shook her hand and attempted a smile. “Then you have lots of business?”

  Francesca laughed, a deep throaty sound that reminded Trish of a feline purr. “More than I can handle. I’ve had to be very selective about which clients I take. Nothing under fifty grand.”

  Trish struggled to keep her jaw from flapping open. “I see.” I see? This woman was a prospective employer and that’s all she could say?

  The smile faded from the woman’s face. “Excuse me, Trish. I see someone I need to speak with. Let’s chat later. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  Delaine elbowed her and waggled her eyebrows. “What did I tell you? Tons of work for you here in Austin.” She edged closer. “So what do you think of my gorgeous plastic surgeon?”

  Peter Huggins, Hollywood-handsome, leaned against the fireplace a few steps away like a panther about to pounce. He smirked with insolent eyes and raised his glass.

  “He seems, uh, very nice.”

  Another woman Trish didn’t know grabbed Delaine’s arm. “There you are, Delaine. I want you to tell me about that lovely painting you have hanging over your fireplace.”

  Now alone, Trish decided to check on Bo, but Peter stepped in front of her, blocking the hallway. “Not leaving so soon, I hope?”

  “Uh, no, I was just going to check on my son.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” His voice was razor-edged silk, and he ran his gaze down her chin. “Delaine didn’t tell me you were such a classic beauty. Have you done any modeling?”

  What rock had Delaine found him under? “No.” Trish was just about ready to spear the man’s foot with her stiletto heel, when Delaine possessively linked her arm in Peter’s, her eyes glittering.

  “So what are you two talking about?”

  Trish gave a close-lipped smile. “I told him I was just about to check on Bo. Now if you two will excuse me.”

  Later that afternoon, Trish carried a very sleepy little boy to the Suburban and buckled him in, then turned to face her friend. “Thanks so much for the weekend. We both had a wonderful time.”

  Delaine gave her a hug. “Thanks for coming. I hope you’ll give more thought to moving to Austin. I’d love to have you closer.”

  Trish let out a puff of air. “I’ll definitely give it some thought.” And then some. She pulled herself into the driver’s seat, waved, and drove toward the interstate that would lead them home. With Bo asleep, she had plenty of time to rehash the events of the weekend and think things through.

  No matter how painful, she had to face the facts. She wasn’t making enough money to support her son and pay her bills. A move to Austin would provide a good job to meet their needs. Bo needed stability, but her family had their own lives to lead. Yes, Andy had more than made up for the deficit, but the whole situation filled her with fear. Without Bo, she would be tempted to see where the road with Andy might lead, but under the circumstances, it made no sense. Impossible decision. How was she supposed to know what to do? God, what do You want?

  Trust and wait. The words were immediate, a still, small voice sounding in her thoughts.

  Wait for what? Bankruptcy?

  * * * * *

  Was it wise to call? From his small apartment, Andy peered out over downtown Miller’s Creek, the area emptied of traffic and people on this cloudy Monday evening. Everyone had gone home to their families, while he’d just returned from his nightly visit to the Morganville nursing home.

  After discovering dad’s dementia, he’d known he had to do something. The man was way past being able to care for himself. Guilt sliced through him. If he’d taken the time to find him earlier, would it have made a difference?

  A weary sigh escaped as his thoughts returned to Trish and Bo. He’d been over the situation a thousand times in his mind. Like a hamster on a spinning wheel, he’d agonized over it all weekend while she was away. He had to
convince Trish to stay in Miller’s Creek, but how? It was too soon to confess his feelings. That would send her sprinting to Austin faster than anything.

  He unclipped his cell phone and pushed speed-dial for Trish’s house, breathing a silent prayer for direction.

  Bo answered.

  “Hey, bud, this is Andy.”

  “Hey, guess what? We went to the coolest water park.”

  Unease stabbed at him. Bo liking Austin was not a good omen. “Sounds like fun. Is your mama there?”

  “Yep. I’ll go get her.”

  Several minutes later she came on the line, breathless. “Hi, Andy.”

  “Hi. What took you so long?”

  She laughed, a melodic sound. “Sorry about that. I was actually out in the cottage, painting.” Her voice held a happy lilt, and he imagined a sparkle in those tawny eyes of hers.

  “You sound happy.”

  “I guess I am.”

  Dread filled his heart. “So the weekend in Austin went well?”

  “Very well.” She offered no further information.

  “Glad to hear it.” Okay, that was a lie. “Glad to hear you’re painting again. You know, I bet you could sell your paintings professionally.”

  This time her laughter held cynicism. “It’s nice of you to say so, but I’m not so sure, especially in this economy.”

  He plopped onto the futon and took a swig of cool water, his pulse pounding. God, give me the words to say. “Thought maybe we should get started on the new building. You still planning on helping me out?”

  “Sure. I guess. I mean, if you want me to.”

  “I want you to.”

  “Okay. What would you like me to handle?”

  “Everything. Locate a building contractor, and then decorate and furnish the entire house and office space . . . except the basement.” He already had another purpose for that space. That is, if everything worked according to plan.

  “I assumed that would be storage space for your office.” Even her tone held a frown. “I don’t mind purchasing file cabine—”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The less said the better. “Why don’t I set up an account like I did for my temporary office, so you can order what you need and also pay yourself?”

  “That’s a lot more leeway than most clients give. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me bill you? I don’t want any special favors.”

  “I trust you, Trish.” Why couldn’t she get that through her beautiful, thick skull?

  “However you want to handle it is fine with me.”

  Finally. “I’ll set up the account tomorrow. Just let me know when you need more. Why don’t we meet on Thursday to go over plans? Will that give you sufficient time?”

  “It should. When and where?”

  “Ten a.m. at my office.” The conversation grew uncomfortably quiet. Would she go ballistic if he asked about the trip? “So tell me about Austin.”

  “We had a great time. I think we both needed the time away.”

  “Good. You, uh, still thinking about moving?”

  In the silence he could almost see her will-you-let-it-rest glare. “As a matter of fact, yes. I know I could be successful with an interior design business there. In fact, I met the lady interested in my portfolio.”

  His heart plummeted. “And what about Bo?” He hated the accusatory edge to the question, but he couldn’t help how he felt.

  “My son would have access to some of the best schools in the state.”

  He yearned to tell her that Bo needed the security of the familiar. To tell her how much he cared. But he didn’t dare say more.

  “I haven’t had the chance to ask about your friend who died. Were you very close?”

  Andy’s throat constricted. “Yes.”

  “That must have been difficult. Was he a classmate?”

  “No.”

  She waited, as if she expected more. “Why are you so close-lipped about your past?”

  The question socked him in the gut. How could you explain to someone who had no point of reference what it was like to feel judged because your father was a drunk? The drunk who no longer even recognized him. “Maybe there’s nothing to tell.”

  “Maybe.” Her tone screamed disbelief. “But it seems to me you’re trying to cover it up.”

  White-hot heat coursed through his veins. The queen of social masks was accusing him of covering up?

  “I don’t mean to sound unkind, but if you expect me to answer your questions about my plans and past, I think it’s only fair for you to reciprocate.”

  The white-hot heat turned to icicles. “It’s not like you’ve been completely straightforward with me either.”

  “What are you referring to?”

  “I know you’re in financial trouble, and your family suspects it, too.” As the words sloshed from his mouth, he knew he’d overstepped his bounds. Again.

  Chapter 14

  Trish squeezed into the bright yellow sardine can of a car. After checking for oncoming traffic, she zoomed away from Hank’s Used Car lot in Morganville. Already she missed the interior space of the larger vehicle, but some things couldn’t be helped. The switch to a small car made financial sense. It gave her enough money to get rid of the car payment and have a little cash left over. Besides, a small car meant better gas mileage, which could only help when you were on the verge of bankruptcy.

  She cracked a window to get rid of the stale smell and tucked her now windblown hair behind her ears. Otis Thacker had been on her back for three months to pay her monthly lease on the shop. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to pay him. The two design jobs she’d picked up in Morganville had provided food money, but little else. How could she drive around in a nice Suburban when she owed so many people?

  Time to pull out all the stops. If she couldn’t make a go of it in Miller’s Creek, she needed to know soon. Like before summer was over. If they had to move, it needed to happen before Bo started school in the fall.

  Andy’s handsome face loomed in her mind, but she pushed it away. Other than work and baseball, she hadn’t seen him in the two weeks since their argument. During the times she’d been around him, he’d been mentally elsewhere, his mind obviously on something more important. She slid a hand down the opposite arm to chase away goose bumps. Under the circumstances, this distance between them was a good thing. Now if she could only convince Bo of the fact.

  Within a half hour she pulled up to the front of Designs By Trish. She entered the two-story brick building and looked around the space, empty except for boxes she’d packed for the move.

  A sick feeling landed in her stomach, and she moved a hand to her abdomen in an effort to still the wild dance inside. She’d had such high hopes when she’d signed the lease. If only it didn’t feel like she was throwing in the towel. If only she could’ve made this work. She clenched her teeth. Enough of the “if only’s.”

  Trish lifted a box and trudged to the car. She wedged it in the tiny back seat. Okay, it would’ve been smarter to move this stuff before she sold the Suburban.

  “What are you doing?”

  She jumped at Andy’s unexpected and demanding voice, and bumped her head on the car ceiling. With one hand on her head, she faced him.

  He stood off to one side, hands on his hips, his eyes and forehead wrinkled.

  Her mouth went dry, a sour taste on her tongue. “Clearing out the store.”

  His face paled. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t make sense to pay a lease when I can run the business from home.” She stepped around him and hurried back inside the store.

  He followed, his steps echoing on the wooden floors. “But the store front and sign let people know you’re in business.”

  “Pretty expensive advertising, if you ask me.” She hoisted another box with a grunt.

  He grabbed one also and tagged along behind her. “Whose car?”

  “Mine. I traded the Suburban for it.”

  Andy slid his box in the backseat an
d turned to face her, his lips taut. “Is there something—”

  “I’m fine.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You sure?” His tone and expression held doubt.

  “I’m fine.” Trish rushed inside to get one more box for the front seat. The sooner she filled the car, the sooner she could leave. It was pretty obvious this move would take more than one trip, especially with a cracker box for a car.

  Andy blocked her way. “Say ‘you’re fine’ one more time and I won’t believe you.”

  She peered into his green eyes. “I’m . . .”

  “. . . fine. Yeah, you said that already.” He frowned. “Do I owe you money?”

  Trish forced a smile. “No. For the number of hours I’ve put in, I’ve been sufficiently paid. Once the building is in the dry, I’ll have more work to do.”

  “Have any other jobs besides mine?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” Trish balanced the box between her body and the building, locked the door, and moved to the car, Andy on her heels. “I’m really not trying to cut you off, Andy, but I’ve got to get this load home and come back for the rest.” Before she owed Otis another month’s rent.

  He hustled around her and opened the car door. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Andy lips curved upward, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  He stared as she pulled away from the curb, his expression full of concern.

  The dashboard clock read 4:45. She’d told Dad she’d be home by 5:00, and she should still have time to make it. After supper, she’d borrow one of the ranch trucks and bring Bo back to town with her to get the rest of the stuff. Then she’d call Otis.

  A mile out of Miller’s Creek, a grinding noise sounded from beneath the front part of the car. She pressed the accelerator, but the car only moved slower. Trish steered to the side of the road. The engine continued to run, but the car wouldn’t budge.

  This wasn’t good. She dropped her head back against the seat, her brain racing. The thought of having the car checked by a mechanic had crossed her mind, but she’d been running late and the salesman had seemed so reputable. Now here she was, in the same old position, needing to be rescued.