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Authors: Kathryn Cushman

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Finding Me (10 page)

BOOK: Finding Me
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“Why, thank you. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No. Not yet anyway.” With a last jab of determination she plunged forward. “I was kind of thinking of moving to this part of the country for a while. I, uh . . . make jewelry, you see, and I live in California, which is beautiful, but I’ve been thinking of moving out this way and seeing if I can find new forms of inspiration.”

“California, you say?” His eyes narrowed just a fraction. “What part?”

“Central coast. Just outside of Santa Barbara.”

“I see.” He studied her face for several seconds too long. “Well, I think you’d like it around here if you decided to stay. Lots of natural beauty, if that’s the kind of thing that inspires you.”

“Yes, yes it is lovely. Thing is, I’d need to find a job. Are there many available in town?”

“Thought you designed jewelry.”

“I do, but, you know, it doesn’t really pay the rent yet. I’m hoping it will, someday. But I’ve got bills in the meanwhile.”

His eyes had never left her face. He cocked his head to the side and said, “I’m sure you could find a place to work without too much trouble.”

“Good to know.” She nodded back toward the store. “This is an amazing place. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“So you said.” He gestured around with his hand. “This store is the place the country folk come to when they don’t want to make the thirty-minute drive into Lawrenceburg to go to the Walmart.”

“Makes sense.” She nodded, frantically trying to come up with more conversation ideas. “Have you always worked here, at this store?” She knew the second she asked it, the question was too prying, was going to tip him off that she was up to something. And he did pause a long time before he finally answered.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I guess I do. It’s just that I’ve never been in the South before. This is all so new and different. Yet something about it feels so—” she paused, thinking about what she might say, when the word just seemed to pop out—“familiar.”

“That so?” He continued to study her. “Well, to answer your question, yes and no. It’s my family’s store, has been since my father was a young man, so I grew up working here. I moved on for a while, then came back.”

“Got it.” She looked around, making an effort to back off yet still keep some thread of conversation going.

“Just for a while, huh?”

He was looking at her as if he knew she was hiding something. “Oh, you know, sometimes in life you realize the grass really was greener on your own side of the fence.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m not sure whether or not I hope that proves true.”

“Planning to climb out of your own pasture for a while, are you?”

“I guess maybe I am. Actually, to tell you the truth, I got kicked out of mine. I got fired last week.” At that, he looked at her with such blatant disapproval that she felt she had to explain herself.
For some reason, she couldn’t stand the thought of this man she’d only just met thinking ill of her. “See, I got a job out of college as a receptionist for a contractor, but then I found out he was cheating people, including a dear old woman who lived down the street from my parents. I told her about it, and the boss found out I told. I got fired. She got sent to an assisted living facility. I figured I’d done enough damage to that part of the country for a while, decided it was time for a road trip so I could mess up people’s lives somewhere else.” She faked a little laugh.

He tilted his head back, as if considering whether or not this was a story to be believed. Finally, he said, “Honesty. It’s a good trait. You don’t see it all that often these days.”

“Apparently not, unfortunately for me.”

“You’re better off away from that place. You mark my word, before long you’d be included in the cheating—either by helping him cheat people or by him cheating you. Yep, you’re much better off away from there.” He nodded and stared off into the distance. Then he turned to look at her straight on. “I’ll bet your parents are proud.”

Kelli shrugged. “I’m sure they would have been.” She hated how her voice cracked at the end.

“Would have been? So, they are . . . ?”

Kelli just nodded. She didn’t trust her voice just then.

“I’m so sorry. How long?”

“A little over a month. Car wreck. Killed them both.” Kelli put the water bottle on the counter, as she had run out of conversation ideas. “I guess this is it for me.”

The keys on the cash register made a beeping sound as he entered the price. “That’ll be one dollar.”

Kelli fished a dollar out of her wallet. “Thanks.” She started toward the door.

“Hey, you know what, if you’re interested in a job, I’ve been
kind of thinking of hiring some help here, just for the summer. Would you be interested in something like that?”

“Well, I . . .” Kelli was getting ready to answer no when she realized this might be the opening to more conversations with Ken Moore. She could pretend to be interested all week long and see what else she could find out. “Yes, I think I might be.”

“Here, write down your name and number and I’ll give you a call in a day or two so we can talk more about it. Are you going to be in town for a while?”

“A few more days anyway. I was thinking of spending a few days just poking through downtown.” Kelli wrote down her name and cell number on the piece of paper he held out.

“It’s a nice little town. You should check out the City Center Church on Sunday. Nice place, nice people. I’m sure they’d make you feel right at home.”

“City Center Church, huh? Maybe I’ll just do that.” In fact, one of the few things Kelli had found about her mother involved City Center Church, so she had already planned to go there and see if she could get at least a glimpse of her. She turned back to him. “Do you want me to take an application or anything?”

“Nah. I work off my gut, not some mindless, formulaic paperwork. Besides, you already told me you got fired from your last job. I don’t reckon there’s any reason for me to check that reference.”

“I guess not.”

“I’ll be in touch. My name’s Kenmore, by the way.”

“Kenmore?”

“Ken Moore, actually, but nobody calls me anything but Kenmore.”

“Got it. Well, nice to meet you, Kenmore.” Kelli walked away, not certain whether she was glad he had her number or whether she should have lied and given him a fake one. She supposed the next few days would tell.

13

K
elli waited until evening, then drove toward the address she had long since memorized. She had no idea if Alison Waters still lived at the house, she only knew this was where the candlelight vigils were held when David and Darcy Waters were missing—or Don and Kelli Huddleston, depending on which parts of history you chose to accept as true. It appeared that in this case, truth might be a little bit . . . relative.

She found Beuerlein Avenue and drove up it slowly, checking house numbers as she went. The homes here weren’t new, but they were all larger and more upscale than those she’d seen in the rest of Shoal Creek. When she came to a large two-story Tudor-style home, she looked at the number on the mailbox just to be sure. This was the place. She pulled her car to the opposite curb and looked at this piece of her history.

Five windows were visible on the second floor, the nursery had likely been behind one of them. Kelli looked from one side of the house to the other, wondering where her crib had once stood. As an infant, perhaps she’d gazed over her parents’ shoulders out these very windows at this very yard. Maybe she took her
first steps here. Had she cried a lot? Who held and comforted her when teething kept her awake at night? She imagined her father peering out the window, her infant self in his arms feeling completely safe and secure and loved.

What had happened in this place that set the gears in motion for her to be where she was today? “Daddy, I know you had a reason for what you did. Help me find it.”

There were two cars in the driveway. Jutting up above the shrubs surrounding the backyard, she could see a swing set, and just beneath the front porch there was the outline of some sort of toy—it appeared to be a plastic lawnmower. Did these belong to her nieces and nephews, or did some other family live here now?

She could see shadows moving behind the curtains just to the right of the door, a fair amount of activity. Kelli imagined small children wrestling with their father just inside. Had she wrestled with Daddy in that very room?

A woman came toward her down the street, walking a border collie on a long leash. Kelli needed to leave before the woman came close enough to see her sitting here and got suspicious. She started the car and headed back toward the hotel, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and longing for what she’d found so far.

She knew that Alison Waters taught history at the local junior high school and that they would be out of session for the summer next week. She had to act fast if she was going to get the chance to see her. She just needed to come up with some plausible explanation to get close to her. She needed to make out this woman’s character. Surely there must be something about her that had caused Daddy to do what he did. Surely there was.

Shane looked through the glass door at his father limping down the first aisle of the store. For the life of him, he couldn’t
understand what drove his father to want to keep this place going. It was such an overwhelming amount of work with no significant payback. Shane walked in, prepared to make a stand.

“Come on in, and before you start your lecturing, you’ll be happy to know I offered somebody a job here today.”

“Pop! Way to go! I can’t believe you finally did it.”

“Gah.” Pop waved him off. “You can wipe that smile right off your face. I find it offensive.”

“You find my smile offensive?”

“It’s your victory smile. I’ve seen it a thousand times after you hit a home run or caught someone trying to steal second base. I want you to know, young man, that I made my own decision.”

“Of course, of course.” Shane focused his energy on trying to keep his expression neutral, but he knew his father saw right through him. “Erica was a nice girl, though, wasn’t she? I knew you’d like her if you gave her a chance.”

“Erica? Who’s that?”

“She’s the girl I sent you today that I’d prescreened. The one you just told me you hired.”

Pop waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, her. Didn’t like her. Sent her away.”

“What? But you just said . . . you said you offered her the job.”

“Wrong. I said I offered somebody a job, I didn’t say anything about Erica.”

“All right, Mr. Argue-with-a-signpost, who did you offer the job, then?”

“Her name is . . .” Pop fished around in his pocket and pulled out a scrap piece of paper. “Kelli Huddleston. She’s not from around here.”

“Where’s her job application? Did you check her references?”

“My gut is reference enough, and my gut tells me she’s the right person for the job.”

“Your gut, huh?” Shane shook his head and jumped up on the counter, already reaching for a piece of bubble gum from the large glass jar beside the cash register. “It’s amazing to me that you have made it this far in this cruel world with your naïveté. Dad, you’ve got to look at hard facts, not just feelings. You’ve lived long enough to know this.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’m sure I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

“Can I at least meet this Kelli-who’s-not-from-around-here?”

“Sure, you can meet her when she starts work.”

“Pop, this is all so sudden, especially for you. What’s going on?”

“You’re the one who is so desperate for your old man to get some help. I’ve found someone, end of story.” He looked at Shane with a dare in his eyes, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Although, she hasn’t accepted the offer yet, not technically. We’re going to talk again in the next day or two.”

“You said she’s not from around here. Where’s she from?”

“California. She needed a little getaway, and her road trip led her straight to me.”

“Really? Right to your store from California, huh?” Shane shook his head. His father had done some unconventional things over the years, but this one was taking the cake. “Let me see that paper.”

BOOK: Finding Me
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ads

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