Josie Day Is Coming Home (19 page)

Josie didn’t know. “In the clear? Enshrined as the
perfect daughter?”

“Nowhere, that’s where!” Jenna’s voice cracked.
“No matter what I do, it’s never enough. No matter how much I do
right
,
all that matters is what
you
do
wrong
. Now that you’re back, I
don’t stand a chance.”

“Of course you do.” God, she was serious. Josie
couldn’t believe it. “You’ve got the trump card, remember?
Grandkids!”

Jenna snorted.

Okay. Joking wasn’t working. Honestly perplexed, Josie moved
closer. “What do you mean, ‘never enough’? It’s
always
enough when
it comes to you, and you know it. You’re Mom and Dad’s favorite. We’ve both
known that for a long time. We just…don’t talk about it.”

Jenna remained silent.

“Come on, Jenna. Don’t clam up now.”

Josie fastened her skirt and smoothed out the hem. She
glanced up, waiting for her sister’s inevitable agreement…but somehow the
world shifted. Jenna only stood there, determinedly watching a blue jay nest in
a nearby pine tree. She gave no sign of feeling anything but as overlooked as
Josie often did.

Could it be true? Could Jenna really feel as though she was
never enough?

“If Mom and Dad don’t see how fantastic you are, that’s
their loss,” Josie said. “Honestly. Forget about it.”

Jenna sniffed. “Wow. Things are really simple in your
world, aren’t they? Must be nice to—” She turned, stopped, took in Josie’s
outfit. Her eyes narrowed.

A twirl. “What do you think?”

Josie waited as her skirt settled just above her knees, as
her prim suit jacket fluttered closed at the waist. The suit belonged to one of
her roommates, Sheila, who danced at Bally’s. Josie had thought it was one of
her own outfits when she’d packed it.

It was coming in handy now, though. If she wasn’t mistaken,
Jenna approved. Her sister tapped her finger against her lips, walking closer.
She bent her head and examined the fit, the fabric, the length of the skirt.

“That won’t work,” she announced.

“Why not? The skirt is modest, the jacket covers me,
the top underneath isn’t see-through or shiny or—”

Jenna grabbed a handful of fabric at the waist. She tugged.
The whole suit fell away, baring a bodysuit underneath.

“It’s a breakaway suit!” she cried, tossing it on
the bed in disgust. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

Actually, yes. Or at least the day before yesterday.

Josie hadn’t thought Jenna even knew such a thing as a
breakaway suit existed. In Donovan’s Corner, even the bachelorette-party
entertainment stripped down to a pair of gym shorts and tube socks. And a party
hat.

With dignity, Josie examined the suit. “At least it’s
not tweed. I still think it would work.”

“Sure. Barring a strong wind.”

“I don’t seriously expect anybody to yank off my
clothes.”

Jenna aimed a meaningful look toward the window—where the
sounds of Luke’s Harley being revved could be heard. She folded her arms over
her chest. “
I
do.”

Josie grinned. “And that would be bad…why,
again?”

“Laugh all you want, but I’m serious,” Jenna said.
“If you think you can stay here in this house with him,
sleep
with
him”—this last was said in a scandalized whisper—“and not fall in
love with him, you’re delusional.”

“Luke lives in the carriage house, not here.”
And
I only wish we’d slept together
. “I’m not ‘in love’ with him.”

“Not yet, maybe. But I know you. You form attachments.
You like to pretend you don’t, but you do.” Jenna glanced at the crumpled
breakaway suit on the bed. “Being immune to zippers doesn’t make you
immune to falling for someone special.”

Luke
was
special. He was also talented and fun and he
made her laugh. He was trustworthy. He believed in her. And okay, so sometimes
Josie found herself gazing dreamily at him, imagining the two of them settling
down at Blue Moon together with a pantry full of Ding Dongs and hundreds of
long Sunday mornings they’d spend cuddling in bed.

But that was silly. Luke wouldn’t cuddle. He’d throw her
down and ravish her senseless.

Hugging herself at the thought, Josie grinned. Then she gave
herself a mental kick. Luke was temporary. That was it.

“Har, har,” she said, snapping herself out of it.
“Enough with the stripper jokes, okay?”

“You and Luke together is a bad idea,” Jenna
insisted. “What do you really know about this guy?”

“Hmmm.” Josie pulled an elaborately thoughtful
face. “Let’s see. I know he doesn’t hound me about ‘relationships’ with a
capital don’t-go-there. Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

Jenna rolled her eyes.

“I know about Luke, okay?” Josie said. “I
know all I need to know. He’s hot, he’s friendly, and he’s good with his
hands.”

“He’s Mr. Goodwrench, then.”

“Actually, yeah. Kind of. He’s a motorcycle mechanic in
his spare time.” Josie spied the impatient look on her sister’s face and
relented. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

“Do you think that skeptical streak is hereditary? You
might have passed it on to Emily and Hannah.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

With another look at her sister’s serious face, Josie
nodded. Reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, about these clothes….”

Groaning, Josie gave up. Her sister nattered on, flinging
polyester pantsuits and tied-at-the-collar blouses her way. The ugly pile and
the dreary pile awaited her—but beyond them, so did her dance school dream. No
matter what it took, she promised herself, she was going to get there.

All she had to do was reinvent herself, hang on long enough
to dispel those stripper rumors, and find some students. Once everyone saw what
a wonderful teacher she was, her new life would be on its way.

In the meantime, surely she could survive a wardrobe swap
with her sister.

“Hey,” Jenna said, an eager look in her eye.
“Do you think I can borrow those rainbow wedgies?”

“Why not?” Josie slipped them off and handed them
over with a sigh of resignation. “I won’t need them. Not in Sensible
City.”

Chapter Eleven

“Dude. I think your dad’s weakening,” TJ said.
“I think he’s about to give in.”

Upstairs in his carriage house apartment, Luke frowned.
“I don’t want to talk about my dad.”

“But you could win back your inheritance. And your
trust fund! Your dad was totally sucked in by the latest report I sent
him.” TJ waved his most recently acquired spyathon swag—the
state-of-the-art PDA Robert Donovan had equipped him with. “
Totally
sucked in.”

Luke told himself he didn’t care. Not caring, he went on
working on the Suzuki engine parts he’d carried upstairs to clean. Not caring,
he squinted at the ESPN Classic basketball game on TV. Not caring—okay, maybe
just a little bit—he stifled the instant, idiotic spark of hope TJ’s words had
caused.

He’d never been on the outs with his dad for this long.
Sure, they’d had some hairy moments. Like the time Luke had been booted from
his fifth boarding school (in a row) for staging indoor go-kart races. Or the
time his dad had sent him to Europe during summer break to stay with some
“cultured, civilized” friends of the family. Luke had returned with
nothing but fond memories of a hickey-loving French girl and an increased
mastery of metric-sized socket wrenches. Not exactly what his dad had had in
mind.

“Hey!” TJ bounced on the sofa like a six-foot
toddler on a sugar high. “Don’t you want to know what I told him? Huh?
Don’t you?”

“No.”

“I told him you’ve been spending your nights with a
telescope, looking for aliens!” TJ chortled. “Dude! You’re an
alien-watching whack job.”

“They’re out there,” Luke deadpanned, wiping motor
oil from a piston. He replaced it on the newspaper he’d spread on the floor.
“I’ve seen ‘em.”

“See? I knew you’d be into it.” Enthusiastically,
TJ went on. “Last week, I told him you were doing motorcycle stunts like
Evel Knievel. Next week, you’re going to start eating paste and
gibbering.”

Luke shook his head. “Why don’t you just say I’m living
in the local loony bin and be done with it?”

“Good idea. Note to self.” TJ poked at his PDA
with the stylus. He frowned. “Does nuthouse have one ‘t’ or two?”

“Three.”

“Oh. Cool.” He paused. “Hey. Is your aunt
Tallulah as gullible as your dad? Because if she is, you could probably
convince her she meant to give Josie a different estate all along, dude.”

“I’m working on it.”

Luke had e-mailed Ambrose last week, using one of the
patron-accessible computers at the Donovan’s Corner public library, asking him
to look into another property for Tallulah to give Josie. He hadn’t heard from
the attorney yet, but he was optimistic. Barb swore her boss checked his e-mail
religiously. Still, it might be time for another tactic. A telegram? A
shore-to-ship phone call?

A thumping on the stairs made Luke glance toward the
doorway. Josie appeared there an instant later, scowling at her shoes—a pair of
clodhoppers unlike anything he’d ever seen on her. Her outfit met the same
criteria. Her dress was like something a modesty-crazed nun would wear on
laundry day.

She propped her hands on her hips. Or in the general
vicinity. Given those clothes, Luke couldn’t tell—she possessed about as much
shape as the Michelin Man.

“Luke, I have to go to town, and my car won’t
start.”

“Maybe you scared it, Sister Mary Burlap Bag.” He
grinned, figuring this had to be a joke. “What the hell are you
wearing?”

Josie tilted her chin. “For your information, this is
my new going-to-town wardrobe. It’s going to convince everyone that I’m
responsible, respectable, and trustworthy.”

“It’s going to convince them you got dressed in a mud
pit.”

“Very funny.”

Examining her from head to toe, Luke couldn’t prevent a
sinking feeling. “You can’t be serious. You look like…one of them!”
He gestured toward town.

“Let me get this straight,” Josie began.

Uh-oh. She took a step forward, revealing her taut,
slicked-back hair and her lack of false eyelashes. Damn it, he’d kind of grown
to like them. They were so…
her
.

“You think I look like a stuffy, prudish, small-town
busybody? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Uhhh.” This had to be a trap. Another, more
insidious version of the “do I look fat?” question. But Luke had
never pulled his punches with Josie—except for that “I’m just the
handyman” thing, which had gotten admittedly out of hand. He wasn’t going
to start lying to her now. Anymore.

Cautiously, he nodded.

To his astonishment, she brightened. She also tried to
bounce up with glee. Her clodhoppers held her down.

“Yay! It’s working then.”

“Working?”

“To make me look dependable and reliable.
Etcetera.”

Luke wrinkled his brow doubtfully. “What was wrong with
the way you looked before?”

“According to my sister, everything. Plus she said I
looked like Mary Ann, when I
know
I’m more Ginger than that.”

Confused, Luke angled his head. Hmmm. From here it looked
possible that she’d skipped shaving her legs, too. He couldn’t be certain.
There were only a few inches of leg visible from mid-calf down.

“I think you look very nice,” TJ offered.

“Awww. Thanks, TJ. That’s sweet.”

“Just like my fourth grade teacher, Mrs.
Kurzweiler.” TJ shook his head with a smile, obviously remembering.
“She never let her hairy upper lip break her spirit.”

“Ummm, that’s…good.” Brightly, Josie slung her
suitcase-size purse over her shoulder. She glanced at the TV. “Hey! You’ve
got cable in here.” She gave Luke an accusing look. “In the main
house, all I get are local access channels.”

“Your dad hooked us up with five-tier cable last
week,” Luke told her. He’d been psyched to learn that Warren Day, hauler
of donuts and admirer of motorcycles, was also an installer for Donovan’s
Corner SuperCable. “I thought he wired the main house, too.”

“No. I didn’t even know he was here.”

Uh-oh.

“He’s been stopping by a couple of times a week,”
TJ volunteered, looking up from his Chee-tos. “Hanging out, messing with
the cable, checking out Luke’s motorcycles. You know. Guy stuff.”

Josie looked troubled. “He has?”

Luke sent TJ a
shut up
look. Josie had enough to
worry about without wondering why her father was ditching her.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He touched her arm.
“He probably meant to stop by to see you. He just ran out of time.”

“Right.” Josie blinked, then stepped backward. She
hated, he’d learned, being on the receiving end of sympathy. “So, about my
car—can you fix it? It’s going
klunk, klunk
whenever I try the
ignition.”

“Sounds like a problem with the starter.” He wiped
his hands on his shop rag, then got to his feet. “Tell you what. I’ll take
you to town myself.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do today.” Josie
bit her lip. To Luke’s disbelief, she pulled out a pocket calendar and riffled
through the pages. “I’m going to help Jenna and the other PTSO moms serve
snacks at Hannah’s school. You’ll be stuck waiting around for me.”

“PTSO?” Luke cracked. “Tell me another
one.”

“Okay. After that, I’m applying for a business license
and a chamber of commerce membership for my dance school. I figure it’ll lend
me some much-needed legitimacy.”

She was serious. Luke was speechless.

But Josie wasn’t. “I’ve got a full schedule all week,
now that the heavy-duty cleanup around here is done,” she continued
matter-of-factly. “Tomorrow I’m going to network with local businesspeople
at the library fund-raiser. Sunday I’m going to church with my family—you’re
both invited, of course. Next week I’m co-chairing a bake sale with Jenna’s
friends.”