Mad River Road (32 page)

Jeff’s arm brushed against hers. Can he feel all the layers of clothing beneath my jacket? Emma wondered, happy the outside air was as cool as it was. Any warmer and she’d be in deep trouble.

“What’ll it be?” Jeff asked as they entered the always busy café and approached the counter.

“I’d love a cappuccino.”

“One cappuccino, one regular coffee.” He pushed a twenty-dollar bill across the counter. “You want anything to eat? A muffin or something?”

“No, thanks.” The last thing she wanted was to get crumbs all over her new sweater. She glanced down, began casually doing up the buttons of her jacket as they waited for their order to be readied. No point drawing any more unnecessary attention to herself.

“Cold?”

“Just not used to air-conditioning, I guess,” Emma lied.

“Then I suggest we sit near the window. At least that way, you’ll get a little sun.”

Emma smiled, retrieved her cappuccino from the young man behind the counter, and sprinkled it with cinnamon. Was he playing with her? she wondered, following Jeff to a small, round table at the front of the café, the sun settling on her shoulders like a well-worn shawl as she sank into her chair. All around her, people were chatting and reading the morning paper. She took a slow sip of her coffee, watched Jeff do the same. Was he going to tell her what they were doing here? “What is it you wanted to talk about?” Emma ventured reluctantly.

“I was in Scully’s just after you left,” he began.

Emma felt her heart stop. Oh, God, she thought.

“Jan wanted you to have this.” He reached into the pocket of his tan windbreaker, pulled out a black mug with the
Scully’s
logo scribbled in gold across its sides, placed it on the table between them. “She said you left before she had a chance to give it to you.”

Emma stared at the mug in amazement.

“She said to tell you it was her way of apologizing for not recognizing you right away. Apparently, she ran after you, but you were already on your way into Marshalls and she couldn’t leave the gym, so I volunteered to find you.”

“Well, you found me all right.”

“I was looking around the store when I saw this woman wrap a scarf around her neck, and my instincts told me to keep an eye on her. I didn’t realize it was you until I saw you slip that purple blouse inside your purse.”

“Fuchsia,” Emma corrected.

“What?”

“The color. It’s fuchsia. Not purple. Sorry, I guess that’s hardly relevant.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Emma squirmed, traced the embossed gold letters of the
Scully’s
logo with her fingertips. “Temporary insanity?” Her eyes sought his. “I don’t know. The blouse was pretty. The silk felt good. I knew there was no way I could afford it.”

He nodded, although his eyes told her he was far from convinced. “I don’t have to remind you that shoplifting is a serious offense.”

“I know that.”

“If you’re convicted, it means a criminal record, possible jail time.”

“Oh, God.”

“I came this close to arresting you.” He indicated with his fingers how close he’d come.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because you caught me off guard. Because I felt sorry for your kid. Because you’re Lily’s friend, and I figured I owe you one.”

“You owe me?”

“For last night.”

Emma nodded. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me.” Jeff glanced around the crowded café, as if afraid someone might be monitoring their conversation. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

“If I ever catch you at it again, I won’t care whose friend you are.”

“It’ll never happen again. I promise.” Emma took another sip of her cappuccino, wiping the foam from her upper lip with her tongue, and leaning back in her chair, perspiration beginning to seep through the layers of clothing beneath her denim jacket. She wondered if there was anything else Jeff wanted to talk to her about. He’d given her the mug and the lecture. Was there more? “So, did you and Lily have a nice evening?”

“Yes, very nice.” He offered nothing further.

“I’ve never been to Joso’s. I hear it’s fabulous.”

“It’s very nice,” he said again. Obviously it was the adjective of choice.

“I think Lily had a nice time.” When in Rome, she thought.

Jeff lifted his eyes from his coffee, his interest clearly piqued. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Just briefly. When she came to get Michael. She offered to take Dylan for the day, which was really … nice.” She wondered if Lily had ever been caught shoplifting.

Jeff nodded his agreement, took a long sip of his coffee. “So, tell me about Emma Frost.”

Emma took a deep breath. Had she misread his intentions? Was it possible he was coming on to her? Was
threatening to arrest her his idea of foreplay? And how did she feel about moving in on her friend’s, her
best
friend’s, her
only
friend’s, territory? “What is it you want to know?”

“Whatever.” He shrugged, leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table, and balanced his chin on the backs of his huge hands.

“Well, I’m twenty-nine. Divorced. Have a five-year-old son.…”

“Dylan,” Jeff said.

“Yes. Dylan,” Emma repeated. Didn’t he believe her? Was this some sort of fishing expedition? “And aside from that, there isn’t a whole lot to tell.”

“Now, why do I have trouble believing that?”

“You’d have to tell me.”

“Where are you from?”

“I was born in Buffalo.”

“Buffalo?”

“Yeah, but we moved when I was two.”

“Where to?”

“Cleveland, Detroit, Los Angeles, Miami. Name a city, I’ve probably lived there. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Army brat,” Emma said with a shrug.

“I didn’t realize Detroit and Miami had army bases.”

Emma felt several beads of perspiration forming at her hairline, threatening to disrupt the smooth lines of her new cut. “We moved there after my dad died.”

“He must have died very young.”

“Yes, he did.”

“How’d he die?”

“He was killed in Vietnam.”

Jeff nodded. “Must have been hard, all that moving around.”

“Yeah, it was. It seemed like every time we got settled into a new neighborhood, we’d have to move, and I’d have to start all over again, making friends, getting used to new schools, new teachers. It wasn’t easy.”

“Why’d you have to move?”

“What?”

“You said that every time you got settled into a new neighborhood, you had to move.”

“I didn’t mean we
had
to move. We just moved, that’s all.”

“Any particular reason?”

Why was he asking her all these questions? Emma was growing impatient and was tempted to gulp down the balance of her cappuccino, make her excuses, and hightail it out of there. Except she’d already used up all her excuses, and a hasty retreat was probably not the best way to handle Jeff Dawson. “My mom got transferred a lot.”

“She was in the army too?”

Emma laughed. “In a manner of speaking, I guess. She was a school principal.”

“She got transferred between cities? Isn’t that unusual?”

“Unusual kind of sums her up,” Emma said. “How so?”

“Let’s just say she was one of a kind and leave it at that, shall we?”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

What I’d like is to get out of here, Emma thought. Was he never going to finish his coffee?

“So, how long have you lived on Mad River Road?” he was asking.

“About a year.”

“You like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Thinking of moving again?”

“Who knows?”

“There can’t be much in the way of modeling jobs here in Dayton,” he remarked.

“I haven’t really looked into it.”

“No. Why is that?”

“Been there, done that, I guess.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

“Not really. I mean, I liked it for a while. It was great having people fuss over me and tell me how beautiful I was and stuff, but there’s a lot of pressure involved that people don’t realize.”

“What kind of pressure?”

Emma took a deep breath. “Well, the pressure to be thin, of course. And not
just
thin, but really,
really
thin. Unhealthy thin.”

“Thin eyelashes?”

“What?”

“I thought the whole point of mascara was to make your eyelashes look thick.”

You think too much, Emma wanted to shout. “I did other stuff besides Maybelline.”

“Yeah? What other stuff did you do?”

“Some hair products. L’Oréal.
I’m worth it,”
she said, and laughed again.

“You’re kidding. I’ve seen those ads.”

“The one I did was years ago. Before they started using celebrities. I’m not even sure they aired it in this part of the country.”

“I’m surprised the Maybelline people let you do ads for a rival company.”

“Well, they’re not exactly rivals. I mean, they were totally different products.”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t think the rules were as strict as they are now.”

“You were lucky.”

“I guess.”

“You’re never tempted to get back into it?”

“Not really. Besides, I’m getting a little long in the tooth, as they say.”

“Twenty-nine is old?”

“For a model, yes. Unless you’re Cindy Crawford or someone like that.”

“So, what do you do?”

“What?”

“To support yourself. Do you have a job?”

Emma stared longingly out the front window, the sun shining its harsh spotlight directly into her eyes as she watched a carefree young woman striding toward her car in the parking lot, arms waving freely at her sides. Take me with you, she called silently after her. “I’m not working at the moment, no.”

“You’re between jobs?’ ”

“I guess.”

“Trust fund?”

“What?”

“I’m just curious how you support yourself.”

“I have some money saved up. From when I used to model. Not much left,” she added, hoping to ward off future questions. Enough was enough. “I plan to start looking for a job in the fall, when Dylan goes back to school.”

“What sort of job are you interested in? I might be able to help.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I hope you won’t think I’m being terribly rude, but I really have to get going. I have all this stuff to do before Dylan gets home. The laundry and groceries …”

“All of which you’ll be paying for, I trust.”

Emma forced her lips into a smile, fighting the unkind urge to toss the mug from Scully’s at his head. “Absolutely. You don’t have to worry about me.” She rose to her feet. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Don’t forget the mug.”

Emma dropped the mug inside her purse. “Thanks again.”

“Have a nice day,” he said.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Emma exclaimed as she threw open her front door and tore off her jacket, pulling off the layers of clothing beneath it as if her flesh were on fire. “I’m so hot, I’m going to explode,” she shouted at the empty house. Seconds later, she stood naked in front of her kitchen sink, guzzling water from the tap, as if it were a water fountain. “Damn it,” she said again, catching her reflection in the polished steel of the toaster and noting that her hair had started to flip up at the sides, so that it looked as if she were about to take flight. “That’s just great.” She marched back to the front hall, began retrieving her discarded clothes from the floor. “Fifty-five dollars for a haircut and it’s ruined, and it’s all your fault, Detective Do-Good,” she said, snatching the peach-colored sweaters from the floor and throwing them over her arm, along with the yellow cotton blouse, a white T-shirt, a pair of white shorts, and a pair of black capris, all
of which she’d managed to hide underneath her regular clothes. “You think you’re so damn smart, Detective Dimwit. What do you think this is? Kiddies’ day at the Exhibition? You think you’re dealing with amateurs? Shit!” She grabbed her purse from where she’d dropped it just inside the front door, then marched everything up the stairs to her bedroom, throwing her purse on the bed and hiding the stolen items at the back of her closet, to be retrieved at a later date.

She sank down on her bed and opened her purse, withdrawing the mug from Scully’s and dropping it on the bed. She didn’t accept Jan’s pathetic attempt at an apology, a conciliatory gesture for not remembering who she was. Stupid thing almost got me arrested, Emma thought, shaking her head at the irony. If it weren’t for that mug, she’d have a beautiful pair of rhinestone earrings and a gorgeous silk shirt. A
fuchsia
silk shirt. “Fuchsia you, Detective Dawson.” She dug deep into her purse, her fingers quickly locating the object she was looking for. “You think you’re so damn smart.” Emma smiled, her first genuine smile since leaving Natalie’s, as she extricated a small, but surprisingly heavy, brass bowl from her purse and examined it in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the window.

W
OMEN’S
B
ODYBUILDING
C
OMPETITION
, C
INCINNATI
, O
HIO
, 2002. S
ECOND
P
RIZE

Emma would have preferred a trophy for first prize, but she hadn’t had the time to be choosy. She’d selected something small, from the back row, fairly nondescript, so that it wouldn’t be immediately missed. Hadn’t Jan
herself admitted she didn’t know exactly how many trophies she had? It might be weeks, even months, before she discovered the trophy was missing. Possibly not even then.

Emma’s smile flipped into a frown. Why had she stolen the worthless trinket? It was ugly, and she couldn’t very well leave it lying around for anyone to see. Besides, Jan was Lily’s boss, and Lily was Emma’s only friend. She had to take the trophy back. What was the matter with her? Why did she do such things? She carried it into the bathroom, hid it inside the small cabinet beneath the sink. She’d take it back as soon as she got the chance, figure out a way to return it to its rightful place without Jan noticing.

And then she’d never steal anything ever again.

“W
ELL
, what do you know?” Brad asked, breaking over an hour of silence. “We’re about to drive by the Carpet Capital of North America.”