Almost Perfect (20 page)

Hero-worship, she thought wryly. That was new. “I know Josh. I went to high school with him.”

Tyler's mouth drooped. “So he's like really old, huh?”

Liz winced. “Hey, not so old. Although he's a couple years older than me.”

“But he could still teach me stuff. Only if we don't live here, I guess I couldn't go.”

Great. So now it wasn't just Melissa and Abby who didn't want to move. “You can't go to the school for a few years, so let's not worry about that now.”

Tyler hesitated. “But if we moved here, I could.”

“Yes. I get it. Let's move on.”

Her son sighed, then nodded. “Dad says because I'm so good in math and science, that I could study a lot of different things in college. Like engineering or maybe do research.”

They were discussing his college plans?

“Maybe you should think about finishing high school first.”

“Oh, Mom. Plans are important. And goals. It's a guy thing.”

“Girls don't have goals?” she asked as she poured the batter into the heated grid.

“I guess some do, but some just want to be pretty.”

“And some guys are only into playing video games and partying.”

“Sure, but that's different.”

Her son, the sexist, she thought, faintly annoyed. Apparently there needed to be more conversations about equality and tolerance. Perhaps Ethan should be the one doing the explaining. Then he could be more than the fun parent.

While she appreciated that Ethan and Tyler got along so well, she knew they were a long way from being father and son. Right now Ethan was entertaining and new. He'd yet to have to make any hard decisions, to stand up to Tyler or punish him.

“How is it different?” she asked.

“Guys don't care about how they look and girls don't care about computer games. Melissa takes forever in the bathroom.”

“Abby plays with you.”

“But there are more girls like Melissa than there are like Abby.”

“You know this how? Did you take a survey?”

He frowned. “You're mad. Why?”

She checked on the cooking waffles. “Because you're making statements about people that may or may not be true. You're assuming a lot. It's easy to say a group of people always acts a certain way, but it's not accurate.”

“But why does it matter?”

“Because people are a lot more alike than they are different. The biggest problems we have in this world are because of what we assume about each other. People make decisions based on appearance or gender or race, without getting to know anyone in that group. Or they have a very limited sample. Then they say things and other people hear them and start to believe them. Pretty soon we have a cultural bias that affects all kinds of decisions.”

Tyler stared at her blankly.

Liz shook her head. “Let me try it another way. When Melissa and Abby move to San Francisco with us, Abby will be in your school, right?”

He nodded.

“She's from a small town. Let's say a few students and teachers think that people from small towns are stupid. So they find out about Abby transferring and they tell everyone at the school that Abby is stupid. Is that right or fair?”

Tyler's eyes widened. “Abby's not stupid. She's really smart and nice and fun. She's my friend.”

“I understand that, but so what? You said it didn't
matter if you said something about someone that wasn't true.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “They'll hurt Abby's feelings and I'll get mad. And if I act out because I'm mad, I could get into trouble. And all my friends will help me and they'll get in trouble.”

“That's a big mess,” Liz said as she used a fork to pop the waffle onto a plate. “All because someone believed something that wasn't true.”

“I guess it does matter what we say, huh?”

“Yeah. And a little word can have a big impact. The difference between
all
and
some.
‘All girls don't care about computer games' is really different than ‘Some girls don't care about computer games.'”

“Okay. So when I said girls don't have goals, I was wrong. Some boys don't have goals.”

“Exactly.” She passed him the waffle.

He grinned at her. “You're really smart.”

“Thank you.”

“You're probably the smartest mom in the whole world.”

She laughed. “That's very possibly true.”

 

L
IZ HAD LIVED THROUGH CABINETS
being torn out, carpet being ripped up, drywall installation and insistent banging of hardwood floors being laid. But the noise that finally drove her out of the house was the high-pitched scream of a tile saw.

She took her laptop and a blanket to the far end of
the yard and stretched out in the shade of a tree. The sound was still intense, but not so distracting.

She glanced up at the house. Even from here, she could see the changes. What had once been poured foundation and a few attempts at framing had become a real room attached to the house. The master suite was nearly complete. When it was, she might think about moving off the sofa.

Inside, the kitchen gleamed, the fresh paint added a brightness and the carpet was plush. The house had come a long way since she'd first arrived in town. It was practically new.

But no matter how many changes occurred, she couldn't seem to shake the sense of doom and defeat when she walked inside. Maybe the memories were just too strong. Whatever the cause, this house would never be her home. Staying or leaving, she would move out as soon as possible.

She returned her attention to her computer. After loading her word processing program, she started to read the pages she'd finished the previous day.

It only took a few minutes to get back into the story. She glanced at her plotting notes, then began to type. The serial killer in this book targeted teenaged boys. The scene took place at a high school basketball game and she closed her eyes to imagine what it would sound like and feel like to be in that gym during an important game.

Two hours later, she leaned against the tree. The scene was nearly finished, her back ached from the un
comfortable position and the tile saw had grown mercifully silent. All in all, a pretty decent morning's work.

The back door of her house opened and Ethan stepped onto the patio. He had a bottle of water in each hand.

God, he looked good, she thought as she took in the faded jeans, the long legs and narrow hips. He moved with an easy masculine grace—a man comfortable in his own skin.

“Couldn't stand the noise?” he guessed.

“They defeated me with the tile saw.”

“And here I thought you were indestructible.” He offered her a bottle, then settled across from her on the blanket.

“Not all the time.” She glanced at the house. “They're doing great work. Thank you for that.”

“You're welcome. I have a good team.” He pointed at her computer. “How's the book going?”

“Good. I'm finally into it enough to make the writing easier. The beginning is always a nightmare. Figuring out who everyone is, why they're doing what they do. That sort of thing.”

“You make it sound like work,” he teased.

She mock glared at him. “Don't make me hurt you. We both know I could.”

“I'm trembling in fear.”

They smiled at each other and she felt a quiver low in her belly.

“Are you going to keep killing me?” he asked.

“I wasn't, but I've changed my mind.”

“What did I do?” he inquired, looking all innocent.

“What didn't you do? You're raising my son to be sexist and judgmental when it comes to women.”

Ethan stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Girls don't have goals? Since when? I know he got that from you.”

Ethan groaned. “I didn't mean it like that. We were talking about how important it is to set goals. To figure out what you want and just go for it.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I might have said something about girls not being interested in anything but fashion and talking on the phone.”

“If I didn't need my laptop, I'd throw it at you.”

“I'm sorry. It was just one of those things guys say to each other.”

“Tyler isn't a guy. He's a kid and he adores you. As far as he's concerned, everything you said to him is ultimate truth.”

Ethan looked both pleased and chagrined. “Okay. You're right. I need to think before I speak.”

She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“You're right. I shouldn't have said that. In fact there's a lot of things I regret. Like the injunction. I should have talked to you first. I was upset. That's not the best time to make an important decision.”

“Well, damn. If you're going to take responsibility and express regret, how can I keep yelling at you?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “You'll find a reason. Then you can kill me off in your book again.”

She smirked, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe I already did.”

He laughed, then took a drink of water. “You're good, you know. Those books. They're extraordinary.”

His compliment warmed her. “Thank you.”

“You have a detective you talk to?”

She nodded. “I met her at Tyler's preschool. She was picking up her daughter and we started talking. She reads my manuscripts and tells me where I get it wrong.”

“She's a mother?”

Liz put aside her laptop, stretched out her arm and slapped him on the shoulder. “What is it with you? Nevada is female and she's an engineer. Why is that okay but you're a pig about other women?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the blanket next to him, then rolled her onto her back.

“I don't have a problem with women,” he said leaning over her. “I said mother not woman. I never thought of a detective as having a family.”

“You wouldn't. They usually don't show the home life on TV.”

“Are you saying I'm shallow?” he asked with a grin. “You're awfully arrogant for someone completely in my power.”

“You only think I'm in your power.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

They stared at each other. His mouth hovered inches from hers. She did her best not to react to the feel of his body against hers.

“What are the odds of one of my crew watching out the window?” he theorized.

“Better than fifty percent.”

“That's what I thought, too. Damn.” He rolled off her. “Change of subject. Has being here made you late with your book?”

“I'm not too behind.”

“This summer can't have helped with your deadline.”

“That's true, but I tend to plan ahead. Usually I have less time to write in the summer because Tyler's home, so I'm still okay.”

He shifted so he faced her and brushed the hair from her face. “What were you doing before you were a writer?” he asked.

“I waited on tables. Same as here. That's what I did when I first moved to San Francisco. When I got big enough that I walked slow, I was a cashier, where I could sit during my shift. After Tyler was born, I got work at a nicer restaurant where the tips were better.”

“Don't take this wrong,” he suggested slowly, “but I would have helped.”

“If you'd known.”

He nodded.

She considered the words. He was right—he would have helped.

She thought about the long, lonely evenings after she'd brought Tyler home from the hospital. Her terror at being alone with a newborn. She had checked out a few books from the library, but had no real working knowledge of what to do. She'd never really been around babies and there was no one to ask. Help would have been nice.

Loss made her throat tighten. Everything could have been different, she thought. Looking back, she wasn't sure if it would have been better, if they would have lasted as a couple. She wasn't sure she would have ever started writing. After all, her first short stories had all been about killing Ethan in an assortment of creative ways.

Regardless, she was sure, given the choice, he would want the chance to know his son from birth.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“Me, too.”

She rolled toward him. He leaned in and lightly kissed her mouth, then they stared at each other for a long time.

She read a world of ache in his eyes. Saw the place where the past should have been. In that moment, she knew she had never stopped loving Ethan, never stopped missing him, had never moved on. And if she stayed here too long, she was in danger of him discovering that particular truth.

T
HE BANQUET ROOM AT THE HOTEL
had a view of the mountain that filled the window. Concentrating on the lush colors of the plant-life seemed much easier than making small-talk with people she didn't know at a luncheon she didn't want to attend. But here she was.

The purpose—to award scholarship recipients—made perfect sense. But knowing these women were getting scholarships in her name made her feel as if she was having an out-of-body experience.

Betty Higgins, the clerk from the community college, waved from another table. Liz waved back. There were about fifteen tables in all—and nearly one hundred people at the event. Lunch had been pleasant—a delicious salad and warm sourdough bread. But after the hot fudge brownie had been delivered, Dana Marton, the president of the college, stood to address everyone.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Dana, an attractive, slender woman said with a smile. She'd introduced several members of the faculty, a few significant donors, then had shifted to Liz.

“Everyone here has been brought together by a single person of extraordinary talent. Liz Sutton left Fool's Gold only a few months after graduating high school. She went away, had a baby, supported herself and her child, then started writing a detective novel. That first book, published nearly six years ago, made it to the top of the bestseller lists. Not only are her characters real and smart and sympathetic, they remind us of people we know. And for me, that's writing at its best.”

Dana glanced down at her notes, then back at the people listening. “But the significance of Liz's story lies elsewhere. Yes, she managed to overcome tremendous odds and adversity. But the most amazing part of her journey is that it had to happen somewhere else. Not here, in the town we love so much.”

Dana drew in a breath. “In a town that prides itself on caring, Liz slipped through the cracks. While we all noticed she was neglected at home, no one acted. Maybe it's because she was so mature for her age. Her grades never suffered, she was always on time to school. Maybe it was because we weren't as sensitized to disenfranchised children years ago. But when we, as a community, could have helped, there was silence.”

Liz felt the heat on her cheeks and did her best not to give in to the need to bolt for the closest door. They were talking about her life as if everyone knew. She'd become a sad and tragic legend.

“While the outcome of Liz's story is a happy one,
not every ignored child is so successful,” Dana continued. “Not every child has the skills and determination and character to survive. While we are proud of Liz and her life, we must not lose sight of this opportunity to learn from our mistakes. To do better next time so no child ever slips through the cracks again.”

There was a round of applause. Liz felt everyone glancing in her direction and did her best to appear calm and engaged. Because panic was just so unattractive.

“When Liz disappeared, we were left with a small scholarship,” Dana went on. “It should have been hers. The first suggestion was to simply fold the money back into the scholarship fund. But before we could do that, someone sent in a few dollars in Liz's name. More checks arrived. As someone once told me, fifty dollars can't change a life, but when everyone gives a little, we can change the world.”

Dana smiled at Liz. “That is how the Elizabeth Marie Sutton Scholarship was born. To date there have been nearly thirty recipients and most of them are here today.”

To Liz's astonishment, several people stood. Then more joined them. There were exactly twenty-eight woman clapping and smiling at her. Beaming as if she'd actually done something for them.

When the women were seated, Dana invited the four women who would be receiving the money this year to speak. Each of them talked about how she wanted to go
to college and how this money made it possible. They thanked Liz, which made her want to point out her big act had been to run away. But maybe this wasn't the time.

There were a few more speeches, then the luncheon ended. Liz found herself shaking hands with people and accepting their thanks. As much as she wanted to say she didn't deserve their praise, she was glad that her story had become symbolic of something bigger.

Only in Fool's Gold, she thought as a teenager was explaining how her mother was sick and the girl had to take care of her younger three brothers. That meant paying for college wasn't possible. But at Fool's Gold Community College, she could get a start on her education. All thanks to Liz.

It took a while to work through the crowd. Liz finally made her way to the college president.

“It's so nice to meet you,” Dana said warmly. “I only moved here a few years ago, so I missed the formative years of the scholarship. However, I'm happy to tell you more women apply for this money than any other scholarship we have.”

“I'm happy to hear that,” Liz stated, pulling a business size envelope out of her purse and handing it over. “I want to make a donation, but please don't say anything.”

“I won't,” Dana promised, then opened the envelope and glanced at the ten thousand dollar check. “Oh, my.”

Liz glanced around warily. “Not a word.”

“But you're being so generous.”

“I want to give back.”

A few weeks ago, Liz would have laughed at the idea of giving back. To a town that had ignored her? But things had changed. Sure, Fool's Gold wasn't perfect. No place was. There were good things and bad things, the same with the people. She might have slipped through the cracks, as Dana had described it, but that was as much a symptom of the time. Back then, how you raised your children was a more private matter. People looked away, rather than get involved. She realized it was more important to see that the people in town had tried to change. And in doing so, they'd helped others.

“Maybe you'd like to come speak to our students in the fall,” Dana suggested. “We have a lecture series that's very popular. I know you'd draw a crowd.”

Liz hesitated. “I'm not sure of my travel plans this fall,” she explained, which was mostly true. “I usually go on a book tour.”

“We could work around that.”

“Maybe,” Liz said, doing her best to sound doubtful. “I'll think about it.”

Come back here and lecture? She didn't want to have to make a special trip. Although if she was still living here…

No, she told herself. Not here. She couldn't let herself be lulled by a few good days. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life in a place where people felt free to judge her when they didn't know what they were talking about?

Never, she thought with a firm nod.

 

“I
CAN GET YOU A DISCOUNT
,” Ethan murmured.

Liz stared at the dresser made entirely of twigs. Not logs, not sticks, but twigs. Lots of twigs.

“How does he do that?” she reflected in a low voice. “How is it staying together?”

“You don't want to know.”

The book festival took place in the main park in town, but as Liz and Ethan walked with Abby and Tyler, she saw there was a lot more than books for sale.

The booths were clustered by subject. All the crafts together, the cooking across from the travel section. Novels were at the far end, but Liz wasn't due there for half an hour.

“She has a great crowd,” Liz noted, pointing to a large group of people surging toward a booth.

“Cookies,” he told her, grabbing her hand and keeping her close. “She writes a cookbook and offers samples.”

“Great idea. I should do that.” She frowned. “Although I'm not sure what sample I would offer.”

“Blood,” Tyler teased cheerfully from Ethan's other side.

“Or dead bodies,” Abby said with a giggle. The preteen walked next to her. Melissa had gone off with a couple of girlfriends.

“Very nice,” Liz said. “Where do you two get your ideas?”

They both laughed.

This was fun, she thought as they stopped for lemon
ade at a stand, then strolled by the quilting demonstration. Part party, part county fair. So far everyone had been friendly enough, calling out to her. No one had said anything bad about her or Tyler.

“Is that a llama?” Ethan asked, pointing.

Liz squinted, then stopped when she saw a small llama in the shade. “Don't they spit?”

“That's what I heard.”

“It's not a llama,” Tyler stated importantly. “It's an alpaca.”

“They're like sheep,” Abby added. “Their fibers are like wool and can be made into a lot of different things. Some of the fibers are really soft.”

“Llamas have ears shaped like bananas,” Tyler informed. “Alpaca ears are straight.”

Liz glanced at both of them. “Excuse me?”

The kids grinned. “A lady brought alpacas to camp last week,” Abby told her. “We spent a morning learning about them.”

“Impressive,” Liz said.

Ethan ruffled Tyler's hair. “Nicely done.”

The boy shrugged, but looked proud.

They continued toward the far end of the park. The crowd got thicker and Liz noticed big posters featuring her books. It was strange to see huge publicity photos hanging from trees.

“Is that you?” an older woman asked, stopping her. “You're Liz Sutton?”

Liz smiled. “Yes.”

“Oh, I'm such a fan. I can't wait to have you sign my books. I drove in from Tahoe this morning. I told my Edgar that we were spending the day in Fool's Gold and that I was going to meet you.”

The woman smiled at Ethan. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

Liz separated herself from Ethan and the kids and moved toward the woman. “I'm signing from one to three, then from four to six,” she said. An impossibly long time, but Montana had insisted. Now that Liz saw the crowd, she had an idea that maybe she would be selling books for that long.

“I think the lines are going to be long,” Liz continued. “Did you bring a book with you? If so, I can sign it now.”

The woman beamed. “Would you? That would be so nice. Edgar wants to get home before dark.” She sighed. “You know how men are.”

Liz nodded and got a pen out of her purse. She took the offered book. “What's your name?”

“Patricia.”

Liz wrote a note, then signed the book and handed it back. Patricia patted her arm.

“You're lovely. I knew you would be.” She winked at Ethan. “And your husband is very handsome. No wonder you have such nice-looking children.”

“Thank you,” Liz said.

Patricia excused herself and left.

“Why did she say that?” Tyler asked. “Dad isn't your husband. You should have told her.”

Liz crouched in front of him. “She was trying to be nice. Sometimes it's easier to accept the compliment than explain. Besides, both you and Abby
are
nice looking.”

“Jason's parents are married,” Tyler declared.

She stayed where she was, eye level with her son. “Yes, they are.”

“You and Dad aren't married.”

“No, we're not.”

“You didn't get a divorce.”

“That's right.”

She could feel Ethan hovering, sensed that he wanted to help. But what was there to say? Eventually Tyler was going to figure out that she and his dad hadn't followed a traditional path.

“You didn't get married at all.” The words sounded like an accusation.

“It's complicated,” Ethan described, drawing Liz to her feet and putting his hand on Tyler's shoulders. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

“I don't care about that,” Tyler argued stubbornly.

Abby looked uncomfortable. Liz took her hand and smiled reassuringly.

“You should be married,” their son announced.

Liz held in a groan. “An interesting idea,” she said lightly. “But not one we're going to discuss right now and certainly not here.”

“But I—”

“You heard your mother,” Ethan reiterated firmly. “She has a signing. This isn't the time to deal with the subject. We'll talk later.”

“I want to talk now!”

“Come on, Tyler,” Ethan said firmly. He glanced at her. “All right with you?”

She nodded and Ethan led Tyler away.

Abby hovered close by. “Should I go?”

“I thought you wanted to be with me for the first part of the signing. It's okay. Really. Why don't you come with me until you meet with your friends at one-thirty?”

“Okay.”

They walked toward the booths at the far end of the park.

“Tyler's mad,” Abby observed.

“I know.”

“He said he always wanted a dad, but you wouldn't talk about his. He didn't know how to make you. Sometimes he got really sad and stuff.”

Liz didn't know if she wanted to hear more or not. “I remember he would ask a lot. It's complicated.”

“Grown-ups always say that, but if you don't tell us stuff, how can we learn?”

Liz smiled. “You're pretty smart.”

“I know.” Abby grinned.

The preteen's point was a good one. Maybe it was time to explain the truth to Tyler. That Liz hadn't exactly pressed for Ethan to know about his son, and
later fate, in the form of Rayanne, had intervened. She would discuss the idea with Ethan later.

Liz saw the signs pointing toward the signing area and was surprised at how many people had already lined up. Rather than go through the crowd, she and Abby went around, down by the lake, then back up through the trees.

“Do I have leaves in my hair?” Liz asked as they broke through several bushes and came out behind the booth where she would be signing. “I don't want to look—”

She came to a stop and stared at the stacks of boxes from her publisher. There were at least a dozen. Maybe more. Both hardcovers and paperbacks.

Liz held in a groan. Montana seemed to have gotten ahead of herself. Enthusiasm was great, but if a significant percentage of the books didn't sell, Liz's publisher wasn't going to be happy.