Josie Day Is Coming Home (38 page)

I can’t talk about dads,
Josie remembered Luke
saying.
I haven’t had the greatest experience in that department.

Sympathy filled her. Maybe some of the things he’d told her
had
been true, she thought reluctantly. Maybe some of the important things had been
real—and so had his feelings for her. Maybe, maybe….

No. Luke had hurt her and he hadn’t cared. She wouldn’t
care, either. She wouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“What happened?” she heard herself ask, hugging a
throw pillow to her chest. “What happened at Blowhard & Sons?”

Arrgh. She could have drowned herself in Kool-Aid just for
saying the words. What was the matter with her? Why give TJ more ammunition for
his annoying Luke defense theories?

But TJ wasn’t the one who made Josie lean forward to catch
every word he said next. And TJ wasn’t the one who made her sit up straight in
surprise, who made her catch her breath in commiseration, who made her tear up
at the finale to “Link’s” life story.

“He can’t even go to Melissa’s wedding?” Josie
wailed when he’d finished. Reaching for a tissue, she accidentally dabbed her eyes
with a dried-out marshmallow Peep instead. Stupid junk food. She accepted the
tissue TJ handed her. “Luke’s lost everything,
everything
, and
nobody in his family will even take his side in this feud with his dad?”

Appalled, she stared at TJ.

He nodded. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Even though all Luke wants is to be a motorcycle
mechanic instead of a freight company big shot?”

“Yeah. I guess I should’ve explained the whole story,
back when I told you about Luke wanting to open his own shop. But I figured Luke
would kick my butt if I did.”

A sniffle. “Won’t he kick your butt now?”

“He’d like to.” Remarkably, TJ grinned. “But
he’s pretty dog-tired after working on Blue Moon night and day.”

Blue Moon.
Instantly, bitterness washed over Josie.
No matter how sorry she felt for “Link” now, it didn’t feel good to
lose the man you loved to a house.

“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.” TJ put down the Cap’n
Crunch. He leaned forward, awkwardly patting her blankets in the vicinity of
her shoulder. “It’s not like that. Come on. You’re the first person Luke
cared about who didn’t nag him to wash the motor oil off his hands. He needs
you.”

He couldn’t possibly need her as much as she needed him.
Defiantly, Josie stuffed a Twizzler in her mouth. She chewed furiously.

What was wrong with TJ? Why was he putting all this stuff in
her head? She didn’t want to empathize with Luke. She wanted…. She wanted to
be
with him. Oh, criminy.

“Does
he
know that? Does
he
know he needs
me?”

“He asked you to stay, didn’t he? He offered you a new
dance studio, didn’t he?” TJ said. “In guy talk, wanting to do stuff
for a woman means something.”

“Yeah. It means he wants to buy me.”

TJ rolled his eyes. Abruptly, Josie realized that
Luke—stripped of his inheritance, his trust fund, and all his properties,
couldn’t buy much more than
she
could. Which amounted to a gumball. Or
maybe half a Twix bar.

Feeling overwhelmed and confused and, yes, strangely hopeful
for the first time in days, she kept her voice small.

“Is Blue Moon really all he has left?”

TJ gave her a meaningful look.

“
Now
it is,” he said. “Without you.
Without you being with him, together. Like, forever. You know, true love
style.”

TJ had never been one for subtlety.

“I guess I could ask my mom to list Blue Moon for
him,” Josie mused. “She’d know how to get the best price for it. You
know, in an auction or something.”

“You don’t care if Luke sells the place?”

“I wouldn’t go
that
far.” She sort of
missed it. All that work, all that cleaning…. Josie had formed an attachment
to Blue Moon. But there were other considerations here.

“That’s really awesome of you,” TJ enthused, eyes
wide.

“It’s not that big a deal.” His blatant approval
made her feel twitchy. It wasn’t as though Josie was
forgiving
Luke or
anything. All she was doing was giving him a leg up on the competition. A
helping hand toward settling things with his dad, the way she had with hers.

“Besides,” she said with forced breeziness,
“if I can’t have Blue Moon, some moneybags mansion-owning wanna-be might
as well pay through the nose for the privilege, right?”

“Hell, yeah.” TJ laughed and grabbed another
nacho.

“But you’d better not tell Luke,” she warned him.
“He doesn’t need to know I’m involved in this.”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up a nacho, swearing-in
style.

“As if
you
were ever a Boy Scout.” Filled
with a weird sense of energy, Josie flung off her blanket. For the first time
in days, she actually felt good about something. “I’ll go talk to my mom
right now.”

It wasn’t everything, she decided. But it was a start.

Tallulah slouched in a booth at Frank’s Diner, a Garbo-style
scarf on her head. A pair of Jackie O sunglasses hid most of her face. Turning
up the collar of her trench coat, she scanned the restaurant. Her contact
wasn’t here yet.

“Mmmm.” Across the table Ambrose paused in mid-bite,
an expression of bliss on his distinguished features. “This apple pie is
beyond compare. Especially with this—what did you call it? Reddi-Wip?—on top.
Delicious.”

“Shhh. Pull down your fedora and be quiet. You don’t
want to be recognized, do you?”

He smiled at her. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s meddling.”

“Which is why you’re enjoying it.”

“Hmmph. I’m only doing what’s necessary.”

“You’re in love.” Smiling, Ambrose pointed his
fork at her. “You want everyone else to be in love, too.”

She was saved from answering that sentimental—if
accurate—twaddle by the arrival of her partner in crime. Tallulah waved him
over, thrilled by their clandestine meeting.

TJ slid in the booth. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Where’s your disguise?” Tallulah demanded. She
waved at his Laundromat T-shirt and baggy surf shorts. “Do you want us to
get caught?”

“Chill out.” He signaled for Luanne, the waitress,
by pantomiming a cup of coffee in his hand. When she nodded, he looked back at
Tallulah. “We won’t get caught. They’re both on the hook now.”

She leaned forward. “Josie’s come around?”

“Almost. How about Luke?”

“Almost,” Tallulah and Ambrose said in unison.

The three of them smiled.

“Family meddling sure beats corporate spying,” TJ
said. “But Luke would kill us if he knew about this. Josie, too.”

“It’s for their own good. They’ll thank us in the
end.” Confidently, Tallulah snitched a bite of her husband’s piecrust.
“My, that is tasty. Oh, Luanne…?”

Two days after the sprinkler head incident, Luke still hadn’t
gotten Tallulah’s irritating comments out of his head. Ambrose’s, either.

Pigheaded pride won’t tell you knock-knock jokes.

Damn it. That one had really gotten under his skin.

Was it possible he was being too stubborn? Had
always
been too stubborn? Even with his dad…and Josie?

Luke considered it, picking up his paintbrush to apply
another coat to the repaired beams on the house’s porch. He slapped on some
Colonial Blue. All around him, the estate lay quiet. Too quiet. TJ had started
spending more and more time at Amber’s apartment, and even Tallulah and Ambrose
had quit their daily lecture visits.

“Good idea,” someone said from the driveway.
“Painting the trim will increase your curb appeal a hundred and ten
percent. You should plant some flowers in those window boxes, too. Buyers like
flowers.”

He glanced past the porch, surprised to find Nancy Day
standing beside her white Caddy. He must have been too lost in thought to hear
her drive up. That wasn’t like him at all.

“I
knew
you owned this place,” she said,
coming closer with her eyes—and her gold jewelry—shining. “No ‘handyman’
would have worked as hard as you have.”

He shrugged, offering her his least paint-splattered palm
for a handshake. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t think so.” Making herself at home, Nancy
sat on the wide porch railing. She gazed up at him steadily, with unnerving
perception. “I think it’s pretty simple. You know what you want, and
you’re going after it. That’s an admirable quality. I hope you succeed.”

“Right. With six percent commission going to you.”

“Maybe. If you decide to let me help you sell this
place.” She smiled, not the least bit bothered by his blunt statement.
“You know, you and my daughter have a lot in common. She’s always had that
go-getter quality, too. It’s what led her to dancing.”

Not wanting to hear about Josie—not
ready
to hear
about Josie—Luke picked up his paintbrush again. He stroked on a little more
Colonial Blue, not speaking.

“One innocent showing of the Radio City ‘Christmas
Spectacular’ with her grandmother,” Nancy rattled on cheerfully, “and
Josie
knew
she was going to become a Rockette. Nobody was going to stop
her.”

“But she’s not a Rockette,” Luke pointed out, not
sure why he needed to make that distinction. “She’s a showgirl.”

“Well, technically, she
was
a showgirl. We both
know that’s finished for Josie now.”

Chastened, he went on painting. He focused on smoothing on
an even layer of blue, unwilling to think about Josie as a little girl. Josie
sitting in a theater balcony, enchanted, watching a bunch of high-kicking,
Santa-suited Rockettes. Josie dreaming of dancing…dreaming, as an adult, of
teaching dancing. Exactly the way he dreamed of being a mechanic.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point.” Nancy gave a
dismissive wave, her multiple bracelets jangling. “The point is, Josie did
it. She achieved her dream.”

Luke didn’t agree. “If she didn’t become a Rockette,
she didn’t achieve her dream. End of story.”

“Some people,” Nancy said, “are wise enough
to know when their dreams need modifying.”

Luke met her gaze. The meaning there was loud and clear.

“If you’re one of them,” she added, “you’ll
never need this.”

She plucked out one of her business cards and anchored its
corner beneath Luke’s paint can. She gave Blue Moon one final, covetous look,
then clattered down the porch steps.

“Wait.” Frowning, Luke fisted his hand. “Does
Josie still want her dance school? Or did all…this…make her give up?”

Graciously, Nancy Day didn’t push him on what
this
referred to. It was obvious she already knew. It was equally obvious he’d
underestimated her all along.

She smiled. “Give up? Not while there are still
Rockettes in the world.”

Then Nancy Day drove away in her Caddy, leaving Luke with
the distinct feeling he’d just been outmaneuvered by the QVC jewelry queen.
She’d called his bluff, too.

Stymied, he gazed out over the estate’s wide green lawn. If
holding tight to his pride didn’t work, and explaining to Josie didn’t
work…what would?

Browsing through the overstuffed racks at Glenda’s Clothing
Cache in downtown Donovan’s Corner, Josie slid aside another flowered skirt.
Her lunch break from her new filing job at her mother’s realty office wasn’t
long enough to allow any waffling. She either liked something or she didn’t.
Moving on….

“Not me, not me, not me,” she told Jenna, scraping
the hangers aside. “
So
not me. Unless I become a professional hog
caller.”

Jenna made a face. “How would you know what’s not you?
You’ve been impersonating
me
for the past few months.”

“Right,” Josie agreed, looking her sister over.
“And I have to say, our wardrobe swap has done
your
look a world of
good. I want those jeans back, by the way.”

She leaned over and gave Emily a chin tickle, delighting in
her niece’s throaty chuckle. Ever since asking her mom to take over Luke’s
auction of Blue Moon, Josie had felt better. Almost free, strange as it
sounded. She’d even cut back on E! TV.

“My point is,” Jenna persisted, “when are you
going to become
yourself
again?”

“I am myself. A little worse for the wear, but—”

“No, you’re not,” Jenna interrupted. “You’re
not ‘you’ yet. That’s my crew neck top, and those are Mom’s gold sandals.”

“Well, it’s my skirt,” Josie said defensively. She
examined her sister. “What’s your problem, anyway? After everything I’ve
been through with Luke, with him
lying
to me, with losing my job, and
losing Blue Moon…. I don’t need this today.”

“I happen to think it’s
exactly
what you
need.” Pulling a soggy price tag from Emily’s mouth, Jenna serenely
substituted an animal cracker. The girl munched. “We’ve all been walking
on eggshells around you for days. It’s gone on long enough.”

“Sheesh. Settle down, Oprah.”

“Nope.” Jenna shook her head, boosting Emily
higher on her hip as she followed Josie to the next rack. “I’ve had it!
You keep whining about ‘Luke this,’ and ‘Luke that,’ and complaining about him
‘lying’ to you. Well, here’s a news flash.”

Josie gawked. Her sister—her perfect, patient, and sensible
sister—was actually going ballistic on her.

“What about
you
, huh?” Jenna asked.
“You haven’t exactly been a thousand percent truthful about who you are,
either.”

“Yes, I was! I always was.”

“Oh, yeah? Baked any cupcakes lately? Dropped in on any
PTSO meetings?” She narrowed her eyes as though sensing her impending
victory. “Worn any orthopedic shoes?”

Josie gasped. “You promised you’d never mention those
again!”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”